The sun had barely crested the horizon when eight people took their seats around the long conference table in the Sun Palace's war room. The walls were bare, gray concrete. A single light fixture flickered overhead, its persistent buzz the only sound cutting through the heavy silence. The air smelled of stale coffee and long-dead cigarettes.

  Mateo sat at the head of the table. To his right, Felix, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed, having snatched barely two hours of sleep after his long night in Valverde. To his left, Major Cruz, his uniform still smudged with dirt—thankfully not blood, this time. Across from them sat General Antonio Pérez, his weathered face still bearing the unmistakable marks of a man who had seen too many battles.

  Flanking them were four others: the Chief of the National Police, the Minister of Interior, the Director of Intelligence, and a civilian with thick glasses—the newly appointed head of the Propaganda and Media.

  In the center of the table, stacks of reports lay scattered. Photographs of the corpses in Valverde. Lists of officials who had fled their posts. Public opinion data, fresh from last night's survey: 62% of citizens in smaller towns believed the government couldn't protect them. 47% of respondents admitted they "understood" why the people in Valverde had "smiled."

  Mateo opened the meeting without preamble, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

  "Valverde was just the opening act." His tone was flat, yet carried enough weight to command absolute attention. "In the past three days, seven other cities have reported similar movements. No attacks yet, but preparations are underway. Markets are closing early. Local police are retreating from their posts. And our people on the ground report that someone is distributing money."

  Felix added, his voice rough from exhaustion, "In Valverde, we captured two of the perpetrators. They weren't ordinary thugs—they're former soldiers, discharged three years ago for 'disciplinary reasons.' Now they're working for someone. Who? They don't know. They only received orders via couriers, were paid in cash, and were given specific targets."

  "So this is organized," General Pérez rumbled, his voice hoarse. "Not spontaneous unrest."

  "Organized, trained, and well-funded." Cruz opened his folder. "We traced money from Valverde back to Caraccass. Shell company accounts. The owners? Nonexistent. All fake names. But one thing is certain—there's a lot of money involved. More than enough to pay thirty men, buy weapons, and bribe several local officials to look the other way."

  The Minister of Interior—Eduardo, a fleshy man with a perpetually sweaty forehead—interjected, "This is already beyond the control of local police. We need to—"

  "We need to control the narrative." Mateo's voice sliced through the interruption like a scalpel. Every eye in the room snapped to him. "Before this spirals completely out of control."

  He rose from his chair and walked to the chalkboard on the wall, chalk in hand.

  "The people in Valverde smiled when they saw those bodies. Why? Because they hated the officials. That mayor was corrupt. That police commander was a thug in uniform. Those two council members were extortionists. And that judge? He was for sale to the highest bidder." He scrawled the words on the board: CORRUPTION. EXTORTION. RESENTMENT.

  "All this time, we've been preoccupied with Prussi. Busy with the gunpowder factory, labor laws, military reform. But these petty officials—" He tapped the board sharply. "—they kept operating as usual. Extorting the people, selling their positions, protecting criminals. And now, when chaos erupts, the people are siding with the rebels."

  The room fell into a heavy silence. Pérez exhaled a long, weary breath.

  "You're right," he admitted. "I've seen it myself in the villages. Local officials are more feared than the thugs."

  Mateo returned to his seat, his gaze sweeping across each face at the table.

  "We have an enemy out there—someone with money and hired guns. But we also have an enemy within—deeply entrenched corruption, a rotten bureaucracy, officials who care more about their own pockets than the people." He paused, letting the words sink in. "We have to cleanse both. Simultaneously."

  The head of the Propaganda Bureau—Hugo, the man with the thick glasses—tentatively raised his hand. "Forgive me, Se?or Mateo. Cleaning out corrupt officials takes time. Meanwhile, public opinion—"

  "Public opinion can be shaped." Mateo fixed him with a cold stare. "That's why you're here."

  Hugo swallowed hard. "What exactly did you have in mind, sir?"

  Mateo opened the folder in front of him and extracted three sheets of paper—draft press statements. He tossed them onto the center of the table.

  "Tomorrow morning, we release this to every media outlet. Headline: 'Government Announces National Purge Operation: 7 Days to Eradicate Traitors and Corrupt Officials.'"

  Hugo scanned the pages rapidly, his eyes widening behind his thick lenses. "This... this is extremely harsh, sir. We're calling them 'traitors'? 'Pests of the state'? This could—"

  "This could make the people understand." Mateo cut him off sharply. "Until now, they've seen corrupt officials as part of the government. They hated the government because of those officials. Now, we separate the two. We tell them: corrupt officials are not us. They are our enemies. Just like the rebels in Valverde."

  Felix nodded slowly. "Redirecting the anger."

  "Not redirecting." Mateo's gaze was intense. "Channeling. The people are angry for a reason, and that reason is valid. But their anger is aimed at the wrong target. We aim it at the right one."

  He stood again, returning to the chalkboard.

  "Seven days. Starting tomorrow." He wrote the numbers 1 through 7 on the board. "Here's the plan."

  Day 1: Public announcement. A major press conference. My father will speak. All media invited. We release the initial list of corrupt officials already in custody—fifteen names, enough to convince the people we're serious.

  Days 2-4: Simultaneous operations across every province. Joint task forces—Security Corps, National Police, military units—arrest every official on the blacklist. Target: 200 people in three days. Transport them to Caraccas. Rapid interrogation. Secure confessions.

  Day 5: Second wave release. New names. Evidence. And most importantly—their connections to the rebels. We prove that the corrupt officials and the rebels are part of the same network. They're working together. They're a common enemy.

  Day 6: Public executions. The three biggest names. Tried by military tribunal. Sentenced to death. Executed before the media. Let everyone see that the government means business.

  Day 7: Closing ceremony. The President speaks again. Declares victory. Announces that in seven days, we have cleansed the nation of its pests. The people can return to their peaceful lives. And anyone who still dares to try anything—they'll be next.

  Mateo set down the chalk and turned to face them.

  "Questions?"

  Silence blanketed the room. Everyone stared at the board. The numbers 1 through 7. A plan so meticulously crafted, so ruthlessly systematic, so... Mateo.

  General Pérez was the first to speak. "This... this is a small-scale civil war compressed into seven days."

  "This is a rat extermination operation," Mateo corrected. "A civil war is when two sides attack each other. This is us attacking one side—the enemies of the people. The people will support us."

  "And if they don't?"

  Mateo met his gaze unflinchingly. "They will. Because we're giving them enemies more worthy of their hatred than us."

  The Minister of Interior was sweating again. "But sir... public executions? Military tribunals? The international community might see this as—"

  "The international community?" Mateo almost laughed. "The international community is busy fighting wars across the ocean. They don't care what we do here. And if they do care—" He paused deliberately. "—they'll see that we're capable of maintaining stability. That matters more to them than anything else."

  The Chief of Police—Fidel, an old man with a white mustache—asked hesitantly, "And the rebels in Valverde? The ones who killed those officials?"

  "We'll catch them too. But they're not the top priority. The corrupt officials are our priority. Because corrupt officials are everywhere, in every city, every village. The people know them. The people hate them. When we arrest corrupt officials, the people see it as their victory." Mateo sat back down. "The rebels are just shadows. They can't survive without popular support. And once the people are on our side, the rebels will run out of places to hide... that's when we wipe them out completely."

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  Felix, who had been silent throughout, finally spoke. "This is risky. If something leaks, if someone fights back, if the people still don't trust us—"

  "There's always risk." Mateo looked at him steadily. "But we have only two choices: stay silent and let the chaos spread, or act now and control the narrative. I choose the second."

  He stood. The meeting was over.

  "Starting tomorrow. We have seven days. Don't waste them."

  ***

  That Afternoon. The President's Office.

  Ricardo Guerrero read the plan twice. Then he set it down on his mahogany desk. His fingers drummed against the wood. Tap-tap-tap. The same nervous habit his son had.

  "This is harsh," he said finally.

  "Yes."

  "This is risky."

  "Yes."

  "This could get us labeled as dictators."

  Mateo didn't answer. He just looked at his father.

  Ricardo exhaled heavily. He stood and walked to the large window overlooking the city. Caraccass in the late afternoon—lights beginning to flicker on, factory smoke rising in thick plumes, people heading home from work. A living, breathing city, completely unaware that in a few hours, something momentous was about to unfold.

  "Do you know why I agree to this?" he asked without turning around.

  Mateo waited.

  "Because this isn't about us. It's about them." Ricardo gestured toward the city below. "Those people have suffered for too long. Corruption. Extortion. Injustice. They see our officials living in luxury while they struggle. They see their children dying because they can't afford medicine, while officials' children study abroad." He finally turned. "Camila? The girl whose little brother died?"

  Mateo was startled. "You know about that?"

  "I know many things, Mateo." Ricardo offered a thin smile. "Did you think I was just a puppet president who does whatever his son tells him? I stay silent because you're smarter than me about these things. But I'm not blind."

  He returned to his chair and sat down heavily. His expression shifted—harder, more resolute.

  "We've let corrupt officials slide for too long. Because we needed them. Because they were part of our political coalition. Because if we cleaned house, there would be chaos." He clenched his fist. "But the chaos has already arrived. Valverde is proof. If we do nothing, the next city will fall. And the next. Until Caraccass itself goes up in flames."

  Mateo nodded. "That's why we have to act now."

  "Yes." Ricardo stood again. "But this time, I'll be the one speaking. I'm the president. I need to be the one standing in front."

  "Agreed."

  "And after this—" Ricardo looked directly at his son. "—there needs to be lasting firmness. Not just about corrupt officials. About everyone in power. They need to know we're watching. That no one is untouchable."

  Mateo was silent. That statement went far beyond a seven-day operation. That was systemic change.

  "I'll handle these seven days," he said finally. "After that, we'll see what comes next."

  Ricardo nodded. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. A rare smile, the kind that only appeared when he was genuinely pleased.

  "You know," he said, "when you were born, I never imagined you'd turn out like this. I thought you'd be spoiled rotten. But you..." He shook his head, almost in wonder.

  Mateo didn't know how to respond. "I just do what needs to be done."

  "Yes. That's what sometimes frightens me." Ricardo clapped him on the shoulder. "Now go. Tomorrow morning, you'll listen to my speech. And you'll have your teams ready. Seven days."

  ***

  The Next Morning. Plaza de la República.

  The plaza was packed again. But this wasn't like the ceremony welcoming home the soldiers—this was tenser. Suspicious faces. Wary eyes. In the front rows, journalists with their bulky cameras. Behind them, ordinary citizens. At the edges, heavily armed soldiers.

  Ricardo Guerrero stepped up to the podium. Black uniform. A face devoid of smiles. Behind him, a massive banner proclaimed: "CLEANSE THE NATION OF ITS PESTS."

  He waited until absolute silence fell. Then he began. His voice, amplified by loudspeakers, thundered across the square.

  "Citizens of the Venez Republic!"

  The plaza held its breath.

  "In the past few days, we have been shocked by the bloody events in Valverde City. Our officials were murdered, their bodies strung up from lamp posts. Chaos is spreading."

  He paused, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.

  "But I am not here today to talk about that chaos. I am here to talk about its cause."

  He raised a thick folder, opened it, and read a single name.

  "Ignacio Salazar! Former Mayor of Valverde." He stared directly at the crowd. "A corrupt official. An extortionist. During his five years in office, he embezzled two million Bolívars. Money meant for schools, for roads, for hospitals—he used it for luxury villas, for secret accounts in foreign banks."

  He turned a page.

  "The Valverde Police Commander. Salazar's own brother." His voice rose. "An extortionist. His men demanded 'security payments' from every market vendor. Those who didn't pay were beaten, their goods confiscated."

  Another page.

  "Two city council members. A judge." Ricardo looked out at the crowd. "They died in Valverde. Their bodies were hung up. And I've heard that some of you smiled."

  The plaza was dead silent. Several faces looked down at their feet.

  "Go ahead and smile. Go ahead and feel satisfied. Because I feel satisfied too!" His voice shifted—lower, heavier. "But don't be mistaken. Those who died in Valverde were corrupt officials. They were enemies of the people. But they are not the only enemies."

  He pointed toward the surrounding buildings.

  "In this city. In your cities. In every town and village across the Republic, there are thousands of corrupt officials just like them. Officials who extort the people. Police who protect criminals. Judges who can be bought. They hide behind their uniforms, behind their positions, behind their power."

  Another pause. But this time, something was different. The air had changed—a sharper attention, a keener focus.

  "Today, I announce the National Purge Operation! Over the next seven days, the government will arrest every corrupt official, every extortionist, every rotten bureaucrat who has made the people suffer!"

  Cheers erupted. Not from everyone, but from a significant portion. Others remained still, watching, waiting.

  "We have a list. Two hundred names for the first phase. Officials at every level—mayors, department heads, judges, council members, even central government officials. They will be arrested. They will be tried in military courts. And those found guilty—" Ricardo paused for dramatic effect. "—will be executed!"

  The plaza exploded. Cheers, shouts, applause. But also whispers of fear.

  "You saw the bodies in Valverde? That was street justice. Chaotic justice. Justice that targeted the wrong people. But it reflected your anger." His voice rose to a crescendo. "Now, the government will deliver true justice. Orderly justice. Justice that ensures the guilty are truly punished, and the innocent are protected."

  He raised his right fist.

  "Seven days! Seven days to cleanse this nation of its pests! Seven days to restore the people's trust! Seven days to prove that the Venezian Republic will never bow to corrupt officials and traitors!"

  The plaza erupted. Cheering, shouting, applause. Handmade signs began appearing: "DEATH TO CORRUPT OFFICIALS!", "CLEANSE!", "WE SUPPORT THE PRESIDENT!".

  Behind the podium, Mateo watched. His father had done it. He had transformed the people's anger into a weapon. He had channeled it in the right direction—a direction that could be controlled.

  His father truly was a master of oratory.

  But at the edge of the crowd, a few faces weren't cheering. They stood silently, watching with different eyes. And among them, a man in a low-brimmed hat scribbled something in a small notebook before melting back into the masses.

  That Afternoon.

  El Sol Nacional

  Front Page: PHOTO—President Ricardo Guerrero with fist raised at the podium, the banner "CLEANSE THE NATION OF ITS PESTS" behind him.

  Headline: PRESIDENT DECLARES WAR ON CORRUPTION! 7-DAY NATIONAL PURGE BEGINS!

  By: Editorial

  A historic day for the Venez Republic! This morning in Plaza de la República, President Ricardo Guerrero declared total war on corruption and betrayal. In a soul-stirring speech, he announced the National Purge Operation—a seven-day campaign to arrest, try, and punish every rotten official who has harmed the people.

  "Two hundred names for the first phase," the President declared firmly. "They will be arrested, tried in military courts, and executed if found guilty."

  The crowd gathered in the plaza erupted in cheers. Supportive signs appeared everywhere. "This is what we've been waiting for!" a market vendor told our reporter. "We've been extorted for so long—finally the government is taking action!"

  The operation will involve the National Security Corps, the National Police, and special task forces formed specifically for this purpose. The public is urged to remain calm and support the authorities as they carry out their duties.

  Venez Awakens! Destroy the Corrupt Officials!

  La Voz del Pueblo

  Front Page: PHOTO—Plaza de la República from a different angle, showing the mixed crowd of cheerers and silent onlookers.

  Headline: 7 DECISIVE DAYS: BETWEEN HOPE AND FEAR

  By: Dona Esperanza

  The President has spoken. The people have cheered. But beneath the applause, a question lingers: what will actually happen in the next seven days?

  We do not doubt the good intentions behind cleaning up corruption. Corruption is a disease that has been rotting this nation for too long. But the methods announced—mass arrests, military tribunals, executions without civilian trials—leave room for abuse.

  Who determines the two hundred names on that list? Is there a fair legal process? What about those who might be falsely accused by competitors or political enemies? And most importantly—after seven days, will we truly be clean, or will we simply have exchanged one set of tyrants for another?

  A lawyer who requested anonymity told us, "This is martial law in disguise. Military trials for civilians violate fundamental principles of justice. The law must be upheld, but it must be upheld correctly."

  Here at La Voz, we will continue to watch. We will report every deviation, every injustice, every possible mistake. Because we believe that cleansing corruption should not mean sacrificing justice itself.

  The next seven days will determine this nation's direction. Let us watch together.

  El Independiente

  Front Page: PHOTO—The President speaking, with the banner behind him. In the corner, a small photo of Valverde City.

  Headline: PURGE OPERATION: RAPID RESPONSE OR THE NEW REGIME'S AUTHORITARIANISM?

  By: Editorial

  Following the bloody events in Valverde, the government has responded quickly. Perhaps too quickly. In his speech this morning, President Ricardo Guerrero announced the National Purge Operation—a seven-day plan to arrest two hundred officials accused of corruption, try them in military courts, and execute those found guilty.

  From a strategic perspective, this is a clever move. The government has seized the narrative.

  But from a legal perspective, it raises serious questions. Military trials for civilians, executions without appeal, mass arrests based on secret lists—these are recipes for abuse of power.

  We interviewed a law professor from the University of Caraccass. "In emergency situations, governments do have the right to act quickly. But 'quick' should not mean 'arbitrary.' There must be oversight. There must be transparency. There must be an opportunity for the accused to defend themselves."

  The government claims to have evidence. They say the list is based on months of investigation. But without public access to that evidence, without open trials, without guarantees of due process—we can only trust their promises.

  And history teaches us that promises without oversight are the beginning of tyranny.

  The next seven days will be a test. Not just for the accused officials, but for this nation's legal system and moral character.

  ***

  That Night. The Sun Palace.

  Mateo read all three newspapers carefully, one by one. El Sol Nacional—full support. La Voz del Pueblo—critical, but not attacking. El Independiente—analytical, questioning, but not inciting.

  Acceptable... as long as it stayed acceptable, he'd let it be.

  On his desk lay the list of two hundred names. Felix and his team had been working since afternoon, sending orders to every province. Tomorrow morning, the operation would begin.

  He picked up his pen and wrote in his small notebook:

  Announcement Day: Father's speech. Impact: positive. Media: under control. Public: divided but leaning toward support.

  He continued writing. Plans. Schedules. Targets. Outside, the city slept. But inside the palace, the machine kept moving.

  Seven days. Such a short time to change everything—or to destroy it all.

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