The Unexpected Crisis
The first sign of trouble came with the wind.
Ada stood on the balcony of the newly restored government building, watching as the sky above Lagos darkened with an unsettling swiftness. What had been a clear, humid day was now cloaked in bruised clouds swirling with strange, ominous energy. The air grew thick, charged with a kind of tension that seemed to creep into her bones. The wind, once gentle, picked up speed, whipping dust and debris through the streets, as if warning of the chaos to come.
"Ada, you need to come to the command center. Now." Femi’s voice crackled through her radio, urgent, almost breathless.
Ada’s pulse quickened. Femi didn’t sound alarms lightly. She turned and hurried back inside, nodding to Jidenna, who had been reviewing security reports at the long table. Within moments, they were moving through the narrow corridors, their footsteps echoing with a rhythmic urgency. The building itself seemed to tense, as if bracing for what was coming.