The scrutiny did not arrive loudly.
It crept in through paperwork, phone calls, and quiet meetings that excluded press secretaries and aides. State officials didn't storm construction sites or issue subpoenas. They asked questions instead—measured, procedural questions designed to look harmless.
Mayor Reed noticed first.
The calls came from Sacramento, framed as routine inquiries. Requests for clarification on zoning exemptions. Questions about accelerated permitting. Concerns about tax concessions that stretched half a century into the future.
Individually, none of it was alarming.
Together, it was unmistakable.
The state was paying attention.
Reed sat in his office long after sunset, jacket off, tie loosened, staring at a folder that hadn't existed a week earlier. Across the cover, stamped in clean bureaucratic font, were the words:
Special Development Review – North Compton
He exhaled slowly.
This wasn't an audit yet. Not an investigation. But it was the stage before both.
By the next morning, Reed requested a private meeting with Derek Morgan.
No press.
No aides.
Just the two of them.
They met in the same downtown Los Angeles building now owned by the Raven Corporation—twenty floors of sleek efficiency that contrasted sharply with the temporary offices still operating in Compton. The conference room overlooked the city, sunlight cutting clean lines across polished stone.
Derek arrived alone.
As always, he appeared younger than anyone expected, dressed simply, posture relaxed, eyes alert.
Reed studied him for a long moment before speaking.
"They're asking about you," Reed said finally.
Derek nodded. "That was inevitable."
"They want to know who's authorizing the funding. Who's directing the strategy. Who exactly is behind the Raven Corporation."
"And what did you tell them?"
Reed hesitated. "What I knew."
"That I existed," Derek said calmly.
"Yes," Reed admitted. "But not much beyond that."
Derek leaned back slightly. "That won't hold for long."
"No," Reed agreed. "It won't."
The mayor folded his hands. "The scale of this project—it's unprecedented. A hundred-floor residential building completed in under two months. Land acquisition rates that don't align with standard market behavior. Financial flows that don't rely on state or federal backing."
His eyes narrowed. "They're starting to think this isn't just ambition."
Derek smiled faintly. "They're right."
Silence stretched between them.
Reed cleared his throat. "They're bringing in investigators. State-level for now. Possibly federal if they don't like what they find."
"And what will they find?" Derek asked.
Reed didn't answer immediately.
"Eventually," he said carefully, "they'll find you."
Derek's expression didn't change.
"They already have," he said.
Reed stiffened. "What?"
"The identity wall was never meant to be permanent," Derek continued. "Just delayed. Enough to build momentum before interference became unavoidable."
Reed leaned forward. "You're telling me they already know you're the CEO?"
"They know I'm a CEO," Derek corrected. "They know I control the Raven Corporation. They know I'm linked to Blackfire Technologies."
Reed's breath caught. "Both?"
"Yes."
"That's—" Reed stopped himself. "That's going to cause waves."
Derek nodded. "Good."
The mayor stared at him. "You're eighteen years old."
"I'm aware."
"They're not going to treat you like a visionary," Reed said. "They're going to treat you like a liability."
Derek met his gaze. "Then they'll underestimate me."
The meeting ended without resolution.
But the machinery had already started moving.
By the end of the week, state investigators were quietly requesting documents. Corporate structures. Capital origin reports. Employment records. They didn't accuse. They observed.
At the same time, whispers reached federal agencies—unconfirmed, speculative, but persistent.
Who was Derek Morgan?
Where had his money come from?
How did one individual orchestrate urban redevelopment, global logistics expansion, and the most disruptive gaming platform in history—simultaneously?
While government eyes turned inward, Blackfire Technologies detonated outward.
The announcement came without fanfare.
No countdown.
No cinematic trailer.
Just a single line posted across Blackfire's official channels:
Reality Quest is complete.
Within minutes, servers strained under traffic. Forums exploded. Media outlets scrambled to confirm.
Developers followed with a technical briefing—dry, precise, devastating.
All continents were finished.
Africa. Europe. Asia.
Towns, villages, kingdoms, empires—each constructed with obsessive attention to historical, cultural, and economic accuracy. Political borders shifted dynamically. Trade routes influenced diplomacy. Wars reshaped demographics.
No resets.
No safe zones.
No narrative rails.
Easter eggs had been woven into the world—not gimmicks, but discoveries that rewarded curiosity. Forgotten ruins. Lost texts. Events triggered only under specific social conditions.
Reality Quest was not a game designed to be beaten.
It was designed to be lived.
Then came the economic reveal.
RQ Coin.
Previously a demo-only curiosity, the cryptocurrency was now live. Officially pegged at 1 RQ = $0.0010—a deliberately low entry point.
Analysts laughed.
Then stopped laughing.
RQ Coin wasn't speculative in the traditional sense. It wasn't backed by promises or hype. It was backed by utility. Players earned it through labor, trade, conquest, governance. Entire in-game economies revolved around it.
Conversion systems were seamless.
The moment players realized wealth could persist beyond character death—and beyond the game itself—speculation erupted.
Comparisons flooded social media.
"Early Bitcoin vibes."
"Dogecoin but with actual use."
"Ethereum-level potential."
Financial influencers began modeling adoption curves. Economists debated whether RQ Coin represented a new class of asset entirely—one anchored not to belief, but to simulated human behavior.
Governments noticed.
Banks noticed.
Regulators noticed.
Blackfire Technologies, like the Raven Corporation before it, released no commentary.
They didn't need to.
By nightfall, Derek sat alone in his office, reviewing a consolidated report.
State scrutiny: escalating.
Federal interest: emerging.
Reality Quest: complete.
RQ Coin: alive.
Reindeer Logistics had already begun acquiring cargo aircraft. Shipyards were being evaluated. Kyle Butler's expansion plan moved ahead at aggressive speed, fueled by the two billion dollars Derek had released without ceremony.
The pieces were moving exactly as expected.
Outside, Los Angeles glowed beneath him.
Inside, Derek allowed himself a rare moment of stillness.
Exposure was no longer a threat.
It was a phase.
And once the world knew who stood behind Raven Corporation and Blackfire Technologies, the question would no longer be who is Derek Morgan?
It would be:
How much of the future does he already control?