บท 3: Pump and Dump

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 Travis 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, Travis, 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 Travis 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.

"Fifty million dollars by the first month," Kellan declared, his voice brimming with confidence.

Travis 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 Travis, 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?"

Travis 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 Travis'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, Travis 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, Travis 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," Travis 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.

Within weeks, their accounts were everywhere. TikTok, Instagram, Twitter—every platform saw their posts plastered across feeds. Followers came pouring in, drawn to the flashy cars, staged parties, and "hot takes" designed to provoke just enough outrage to go viral.

Alpha Omega was building an empire, one red pill soundbite at a time. And Kael, for better or worse, was now part of it.

Then, boom. When their viewer count skyrocketed to nothing less than 500,000 per post, the real game began. The group introduced their meme coin, weaving it seamlessly into their content. At first, they made it genuinely profitable for early adopters. Not enough to create millionaires, but just enough for people to see tangible results—small profits that seemed easy to replicate.

The buzz spread like wildfire. Testimonials from "users" flooded the comments—many of them fake, crafted by AI-generated profiles. Videos showcased fake success stories, with screenshots of skyrocketing balances and exaggerated claims of financial freedom. Before long, people were hooked.

It wasn't just a few individuals buying in—it was a tidal wave. Picture over 80,000 people pouring in, each cashing in $100 or more every minute, chasing the dream of easy money. The coin's value soared, its graph an almost vertical climb.

Kael stood behind the scenes, watching the chaos unfold. His eyes widened as the live metrics updated on the dashboard.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, unable to look away. The numbers were surreal.

' So much money, he thought, his palms sweating. And with a single touch, I could swipe it all away. ' he thought.

TO BE CONTINUED