[VIRAL METER: NULL - THE INTERNET IS DEAD. LONG LIVE THE INTRANET.]
[LOCATION: AN UNDISCLOSED LUXURY BUNKER - "THE ARK"]
[STATUS: ASCENDED]
The world believed Washington D.C. was the funeral pyre of Dante Vane. The satellite footage of the K Street explosion had been played in a loop until the global power grids flickered out. To the masses, he was a martyr; to the elites, he was a nightmare that had finally ended in a tactical missile strike.
But Dante Vane did not believe in martyrdom. Martyrdom was for those who lacked the foresight to build a backdoor.
In the dim, amber light of a bunker carved into the bedrock of a private island, Dante sat in a high-backed leather chair. He wasn't celebrating. He was watching a wall of screens displaying the collapse of civilization. Without BlackRock's Aladdin or Blackstone's capital, the world's supply chains had frozen. Hunger was the new currency.
Dante didn't just cause this. He had groomed the world for it.
"The CIA and Mossad are currently fighting over the wreckage in D.C.," Sia said, stepping into the room. She looked tired, but Dante's presence seemed to pull the fatigue right out of her. It wasn't through kindness; it was through a subtle, suffocating psychological pressure he exerted without saying a word. "They've found a body. DNA matches your 'decoy'—the one we grew in the Singapore lab. They think you're dead, Dante."
Dante didn't turn around. He was practicing The Mirroring Silence—a tactic where he remained silent just long enough to make even his most loyal allies start confessing their deepest insecurities.
"Sia," Dante finally spoke, his voice lower, more resonant, vibrating with a frequency that commanded biological submission. "Do you know why I let them fire that missile?"
"To f-fake your death?" she stammered, her heart rate spiking.
"No," Dante replied, turning his chair. His eyes weren't just cold; they were voids. "I let them fire it because a man who dies for a cause is a symbol, but a man who returns from the dead is a God. I didn't destroy the financial system to free the people. I destroyed it to make the old masters look incompetent. Now, the people don't want freedom. They want a Savior. And I am the only one left with the keys to the pantry."
The Darkest Manipulation: The "Savior's Noose"
This was the core of Dante's new personality—a level of Machiavellian genius that made the original Italian philosopher look like a playground bully. Dante practiced The Art of Artificial Scarcity.
He had secretly moved 40% of the world's grain and fuel reserves into Blackstone-owned warehouses before he deleted the ledger. Now, he was the only one who could "discover" them and "generously" donate them back to the starving masses.
"Jax," Dante called out.
The mountain of a man entered, but he didn't walk with his usual swagger. He walked with his head slightly bowed. Dante had been using Fractional Validation on Jax for months—giving him immense praise one day and absolute, cold indifference the next. It had turned the world's most dangerous bodyguard into a man who lived only for Dante's rare nod of approval.
"Boss. The AIPAC remnants and the Lobby survivors are begging for a meeting. They're hiding in a fallout shelter in Switzerland. They have no money, no influence, and the Mossad has abandoned them."
"Good," Dante whispered. "Tell them I will meet them. But tell them I am not Dante Vane. Tell them I am a representative of the 'New Dawn.' Use the Dark Triad protocol. Make them feel like their survival is a gift I am struggling to give. Make them beg to be my slaves before I even offer them a crumb."
The Predator's Empathy
Later that night, Dante sat with the captured CIA Director Miller, who had been extracted by Jax before the missile hit. Miller was tied to a chair, broken and trembling.
Dante didn't torture him with electricity. He used The Gaslight Symphony.
"Director," Dante said, his voice dripping with a fake, honeyed warmth. He leaned in close, invading Miller's personal space. "You think I'm the villain. But deep down, you know I'm the only one who ever truly understood you. Your own bosses at Langley were going to let you die in that vault. They didn't even try to warn you about the missile."
"That's... that's not true," Miller sobbed.
"Isn't it? Look at the logs, Director." Dante showed him a forged document—a masterpiece of deception. "They authorized the strike while you were still on the comms. I'm the one who saved you. I'm the only one who loves you, in my own way."
Within an hour, Miller wasn't just talking; he was weeping at Dante's feet, handing over every deep-cover CIA asset list in Europe. Dante had used Traumatic Bonding to turn the head of the CIA into his most loyal hound.
The Final Reveal
Dante walked to the bunker's balcony, overlooking the dark ocean. He pulled out a small device. It was the master switch for the New World Intranet.
"The internet was chaos," Dante mused to himself. "But the Art of Chaos is leading the sheep back to the fold. I will give them back their phones. I will give them back their digital lives. But this time, every 'Like,' every 'Share,' and every 'Transaction' will be a thread in my web."
He turned to the camera drone that was still recording for his private archives.
"Machiavelli said it is better to be feared than loved. He was wrong. It is best to be The Only Option. When there is no one else to turn to, the sheep will kiss the hand of the butcher who feeds them."
[VIRAL METER: ERROR - THE METER IS NOW THE SYSTEM]
[STATUS: ASCENSION COMPLETE]