Maher and Ameer cautiously moved through the dimly lit tunnel they had discovered beneath the fake company during their investigation. The air was thick with dust, and the faint hum of distant machinery echoed off the damp walls. After what felt like an eternity of walking, the tunnel opened into a vast storage room filled with stacks of unmarked boxes.
Maher immediately approached one of the boxes, his curiosity getting the better of him. As he reached out to open it, Ameer grabbed his wrist firmly.
"Wait," Ameer said, his voice low but urgent. "We don't know what's inside. We should prepare ourselves first."
Maher pulled his arm free, his expression determined. "If I wasn't prepared, I wouldn't have come down here in the first place,"he replied before prying open the lid.
Inside the box were several small, tightly sealed bags filled with a fine white powder. Maher carefully picked one up, examining it closely. His eyes widened as the realization struck him.
"This isn't just any powder," he muttered, turning to Ameer with a grim expression. "It's some kind of drug."
Ameer's jaw tightened as he surveyed the countless other boxes lining the room. "If all of these contain the same thing…"he trailed off, the weight of their discovery settling heavily between them.
Maher nodded, his earlier confidence now edged with concern. "We've just stumbled into something much bigger than we thought."
Maher carefully scooped a small sample of the white powder into a sealed evidence bag, slipping it into his pocket. He then pulled out his phone and quickly snapped pictures of the storage room—the stacked boxes, the dim lighting, the narrow tunnel entrance—ensuring every detail was captured. The silence of the underground chamber was unnerving, and the weight of their discovery pressed heavily on both men.
"We need to cover our tracks and get out of here before someone shows up,"Maher said, his voice tense but controlled.
Ameer nodded, scanning the room one last time. "You're right. If they find out we were here, we're dead." He grabbed a nearby tarp and draped it back over the opened box, making sure everything looked undisturbed.
Maher wiped his fingerprints off the lid and stepped back, checking for any signs of their presence. "Let's move. Same way we came in—quiet and fast."
Ameer led the way, his flashlight cutting through the darkness as they retraced their steps through the tunnel. The distant echo of dripping water was the only sound accompanying them, but both men moved with urgency, knowing that every second spent underground was a risk.
As they neared the exit, Ameer paused, listening for any movement above."Clear,"he whispered.
Maher took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Let's go. We've got what we came for—now we just need to make sure we live long enough to use it."
With that, they slipped out of the tunnel, disappearing into the night before anyone could discover they had ever been there.
________
Omar adjusted his tie as he sent a quick text to Maram:
"Going to be late tonight. Important dinner with Uncle and the managers. Don't wait up."
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and stepped into the upscale restaurant. The private dining room was already occupied by his uncle and the senior management team, their laughter echoing against the polished wood walls.
"Ah, Omar! Finally," his uncle greeted him with a broad smile, gesturing to an empty seat. "We were just getting started."
Omar forced a polite smile and took his place at the table. The evening progressed with discussions about sales targets, marketing strategies, and projections—all standard corporate talk. Then, as dessert was served, his uncle raised his wine glass, his expression triumphant.
"Gentlemen, I have an announcement," he declared. "After months of negotiations, it's official—the government has granted us access to the national database of personal records."
A murmur of excitement rippled through the room. One of the managers grinned. "This changes everything. We'll know exactly what people buy, where they live, even their browsing habits. Targeted ads will be flawless."
Glasses clinked in celebration. "To unprecedented profits!" another executive cheered.
Omar lifted his glass mechanically, his stomach twisting. They were toasting to the invasion of privacy, to exploiting personal data just to push more products. It was capitalism at its most ruthless—efficiency over ethics, profit over people.
His uncle noticed his silence and leaned in. "You don't seem thrilled, Omar. This is a massive win for us."
Omar schooled his expression into neutrality. "No, it's—it's brilliant. Just thinking about implementation logistics."
His uncle clapped him on the back. "That's my nephew—always three steps ahead!"
As the laughter swelled around him, Omar sipped his drink, the taste suddenly bitter. He had played his part perfectly—but inside, disgust coiled in his chest.
How far were willing to go? Capitalism was Cruel.
The question lingered, unanswered, as the celebration raged on around him.