He stood there, his brows furrowed in confusion as he scanned the faces of the group. They all looked expectantly at him, except for Amara, who wore a knowing smile that only deepened his unease.
' This has to be a prank, right? ' he thought, his chest tightening as he looked at her.
"You're joking, or…?" he asked, his voice trailing off as Amara let out a light giggle. The others joined in, their laughter like a hum of conspiratorial agreement. Then, abruptly, she stopped, her smile sharp as a blade.
"No, I'm not," she replied coolly. "You see, we needed someone like you to complete our team—someone who knows their way around computers better than the rest of us. Someone who can lead us to victory."
She paused, leaning forward slightly. "Because instead of making an app, we're using a different kind of strategy. Something… lucrative. It's called pump and dump."
Before Kael could fully process her words, a tall guy with an easy swagger approached, grabbing his hand for a firm shake. His grin was all teeth, sharp and confident.
"Yo, Kael, I'm Kellan," the guy said, his tone dripping with a mix of charm and arrogance.
"The team and I, we've spotted a pattern. Something big. Something that could make us millionaires before we even hit 25. I mean, think about it—everyone's glued to social media these days. And besides old people, who's the easiest to manipulate?" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kids, of course."
Kellan straightened, holding up his hands as if anticipating an argument. "Now, I know what you're thinking—'That's so messed up.' But just look at these numbers."
He pulled Kael toward a sleek monitor on a nearby desk, the glow of the screen illuminating a spreadsheet bursting with projected profits. The numbers were staggering, practically leaping off the screen.
"A hundred million dollars by the first month," Kellan declared, his voice brimming with confidence.
Kael blinked at the screen, his heart pounding in disbelief. "What the hell are you guys planning?" he asked, his voice tight.
Kellan smirked, crossing his arms as he stood tall. "Good question," he said. "But before we tell you everything, we need to know—are you in or not?"
The room fell silent. Every face turned to Kael, their collective gaze heavy with expectation. The weight of their stares pressed down on him, making the air feel stifling. He glanced at Amara, who gave him a playful wink as if to say your move.
The decision clicked in his head before he even realized it. He shrugged, forcing a faint smile. "That sounds like… promotion," he said, his voice calm but edged with irony.
The room froze, confusion flickering across their faces like static. Kellan frowned. "What?"
Kael sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It means I'm in," he clarified, his tone resigned.
A cheer erupted from the group, their excitement filling the space. But Kael's smile didn't reach his eyes. The joke had flown over their heads, leaving him feeling like the only one in on it.
Just like that, Kael had joined their group, which they called Alpha Omega. Cringe name, sure, but it wasn't without purpose. It was designed to sound bold, mysterious, and just pretentious enough to attract the right crowd—eager, gullible, and hungry for belonging.
Over the past few years, Kael had noticed how "red pill" influencers had essentially taken over the internet. These self-styled gurus pulled in obscene amounts of money every month, peddling overpriced courses to insecure, weak-willed men desperate for a sense of control and identity.
' In fact,' Kael thought to himself, ' there's this dumb camp where guys pay fifty grand just to feel like they're in the military for a week. Fifty grand! What the hell has this world come to? Oh well… let's move on.'
Using this blueprint of exploiting insecurities, Alpha Omega had devised their plan. But instead of rehashing tired courses or boot camps, they zeroed in on something even more viral—and far more profitable—meme coins.
What made meme coins such a goldmine was their simplicity. They didn't need intrinsic value or a solid foundation—just hype. They thrived on the internet's short attention span and an endless stream of trends. If you played your cards right, you could turn nothing into millions overnight.
The plan was simple: Create a coin, give it a catchy, memeable name, and then advertise it like crazy. That's where the rest of the team came in. Their job? Flood the internet with videos that oozed confidence and manufactured allure.
They crafted content designed to mimic the "alpha male" playbook—endless clips of staged luxury, motivational soundbites, and unfiltered commentary ripping into societal norms. They drew inspiration from figures like Andrew Tate and other controversial influencers who built their empires on loud, contrarian posturing. Their goal wasn't to add anything new to the discourse but to amplify the noise and steer the traffic toward their coin.
...
A Week Before the Launch
Kael hadn't planned to go. Parties weren't really his thing—especially not the kind hosted by people who thought crypto was a personality trait. He was fully prepared to skip the gathering entirely, write it off as just another ego-fest, until Amara messaged him.
"Please come. It won't be the same without you."
That was all it took.
No follow-up questions. No second thoughts. He was already halfway out the door.
The party was being held at the dorm where the whole Alpha Omega crew stayed—a co-ed chaos nest that was part startup HQ, part frat house, and entirely too loud for Kael's taste. Still, he dressed decently. Slim-fit jeans, black tee, a dark denim jacket to pull it all together. Nothing too flashy, but sharp enough to look like he belonged.
As he reached the door, music pulsed through the walls—bass thumping like a second heartbeat. He paused, inhaled, and pushed it open.
Instantly, a wave of sound and smoke hit him.
Weed. Hookah. Some kind of cinnamon-sweet vape. The air was thick with it, like walking into a cloud of rebellion and bad decisions. Kael coughed softly and stepped inside.
To his left, a group lounged on the couch, faces lit up by the TV screen as they button-mashed their way through a fighting game. Someone shouted, "Combo, combo!" followed by loud laughter. To his right, the kitchen was in chaos. A couple of shirtless guys passed around a joint while tossing frozen fries onto a tray, and one girl in fishnets danced barefoot, stirring a pot of instant ramen like it was fine cuisine.
Kael felt the regret instantly bloom in his chest.
'What the hell am I doing here?' he thought, already pivoting toward the door.
But before he could leave, a hand grabbed his wrist.
He turned—and saw her.
"Hey!" Amara's voice cut through the noise, bright and clear despite the music. She leaned in closer, her perfume standing out against the smoke like a warm breeze in a storm.
"Hi!" he replied, surprised by how happy he was to see her.
"I'm so glad you came! Here, have a drink!" she said, placing a red cup into his hand with a grin.
"Oh, thanks," Kael said, smiling awkwardly as he took it.
'I don't drink though,' he thought, eyeing the cup like it was laced with poison.
"Wow, it's pretty loud in here," she said, leaning in to be heard. "Wanna go out?"
"Yeah, I don't mind," he replied, already thankful for the exit.
They stepped outside onto the narrow porch landing. The sudden quiet was a relief. Kael exhaled, realizing he'd been half-holding his breath the whole time, trying not to inhale the cocktail of toxins swirling inside.
"I really hate loud places, you know?" Amara said, brushing her hair back with a laugh. "All the yelling, the chaos—it's exhausting."
"Me too," Kael said, still staring at the drink in his hand like it might bite.
Amara noticed.
"Are you not gonna drink?"
"I kinda don't like alcohol," he replied, his voice lower now, like he was confessing a dark secret. "Never really been my thing."
She tilted her head, eyes curious. "Come on. People who don't like it just haven't found the right one yet. Go sit on the stairs. I'll get something better."
Before he could protest, she turned and disappeared back inside.
Kael let out a breathy laugh and made his way to the concrete stairs. He sat down, elbows on knees, drink untouched beside him.
A minute later, Amara returned. She dropped down next to him with a victorious smile and placed a full case of beer between them.
"We'll be drinking this tonight," she said, cracking one open like it was soda.
Kael stared at the cans, then at her.
'Fuck,' he thought.
TO BE CONTINUED