Dimitri Romanov sat in his home office, staring at the clean design of his freshly assembled computer, and felt a rage so pure it made his hands shake. For five days now, he had been systematically reconstructing his digital life from the ground up, piece by painstaking piece, and the fury had not abated one iota.

His online presence, OrthoBro1054, was dead. Completely, utterly, professionally erased.

It had started the morning after he'd posted the police interview footage of John Foster on YouTube. Dimitri had been monitoring the video's metrics—watching the view count climb, reading the increasingly heated comments—when suddenly the screen went black. Not a connection error, not a server timeout. The video simply vanished, along with his entire channel.

Within minutes, his Gmail account was gone. Then Facebook. Then Instagram. His backup video accounts on Rumble and BitChute. Even his barely-used LinkedIn profile, which he'd created years ago and forgotten about. One by one, his digital presence was being systematically annihilated by forces unknown.

The final insult came Tuesday afternoon when his primary workstation—a custom-built machine worth more than most people's cars—simply died. No blue screen, no error messages, no gradual degradation. One moment he was frantically trying to save what files he could to his backup drive, the next moment the system was completely bricked. It wouldn't even POST.

Only his reflexes had saved anything at all. As the computer crashed, some instinct had made him yank the USB cable from his external backup drive. That single action had preserved his copies of the Foster interview video, the forensics files of John Foster’s death, along with his personal files and client data.

Now, five days later, Dimitri had rebuilt everything from scratch using an old laptop that could barely run modern browsers. The new workstation sat before him, hardened with every security measure he knew—and as an IT security consultant, he knew quite a few. Multiple VPNs, encrypted connections, compartmentalized virtual machines, the works. He'd been in the cybersecurity business for ten years, and he'd never seen anything like what had been done to him.

The sophistication required to simultaneously target multiple platforms, brick hardware remotely, and do it all without leaving significant digital fingerprints spoke to resources far beyond typical corporate or even government capabilities. This was something else entirely, a malign demon or worse.

His wife Marina appeared in the doorway, holding their three-year-old daughter Katya. "Dima, are you coming to dinner? Mama made borscht."

Dimitri glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was already past six. He'd been so absorbed in rebuilding his security protocols that he'd lost track of time entirely.

"Five minutes," he said, saving his work. "Just let me finish this firewall configuration."

Marina studied his face with the concerned expression that had become familiar over the past few days. "You've been working non-stop since Tuesday. Maybe it's time to let this go?"

"I can't let it go," Dimitri replied, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Someone with serious resources decided OrthoBro1054 was a threat and wiped me off the face of the internet. They violated everything I believe in about free speech and open information."

"But why?" Marina asked, shifting Katya to her other hip. "What did you post that was so dangerous?"

Dimitri's jaw clenched. "A police interview with a man who claims he died and came back to life. Apparently, that was enough to warrant digital assassination."

After dinner with Marina's parents—who had emigrated from Russia when Marina was a child—Dimitri was preparing to return to his office when his phone rang. The caller ID showed Father Mark Appleton from St. Nicholas Orthodox Church.

"Father Mark," Dimitri answered, surprised. He'd visited St. Nicholas several times, drawn by their traditional liturgy, stunning iconography, and Father Mark's thoughtful homilies, though he remained faithful to his home parish of St. Sergius Russian Orthodox.

"Dimitri, I hope I'm not calling at a bad time," Father Mark's voice carried an unusual urgency. "I need to tell you something extraordinary that happened at my church on Thursday morning."

Dimitri settled into his desk chair, his cybersecurity instincts immediately alert. "Thursday morning? Two days after my entire digital presence was erased."

"That may not be a coincidence," Father Mark said. "John Foster came to my church that morning."

The name sent a jolt through Dimitri. "The man who claims he was resurrected?"

"Not claims, Dimitri. I saw incontrovertible proof.” Father Mark's voice carried absolute conviction. "He healed a paralyzed girl through prayer. I watched her stand up from her wheelchair and walk. Then the glory cloud of God filled the sanctuary, and the voice of the Almighty commanded me to anoint John Foster as a Prophet of the Most High."

Dimitri felt the world tilt slightly. He was a man of faith, yes, but also a man of technology and evidence. "Father, are you certain—"

"I performed the anointing myself," Father Mark interrupted gently. "With chrism, according to an ancient ritual that came to me as if guided by the Holy Spirit. Dimitri, I've been a faithful Christian my whole life.. I know the difference between spiritual experience and delusion. This man carries the power of God."

For several seconds, Dimitri could only process what he was hearing. A resurrection. Divine healing. Prophetic anointing. And his digital life had been destroyed for posting evidence of John Foster's return just two days before this miraculous confirmation.

"There's more," Father Mark continued. "I just finished speaking with Father Giuseppe Fortini at St. Pius V. John Foster gave his testimony during Mass on Sunday, speaking in the language of scripture about his death, his judgment, his trials, and his divine commission. Father Giuseppe confirmed that Foster spoke with authority unlike anything he's witnessed in the whole span of his priesthood."

Dimitri's mind raced. Two priests from different denominations both confirming the same man's divine calling?

"Father Giuseppe and I discussed this at length. We have come to believe that denominational differences matter little when God chooses to act. What matters is faithfulness to His commandments and willingness to serve His purposes."

A chill ran down Dimitri's spine as the implications began to crystallize. "You think that's why I was targeted? Because I documented evidence of John Foster’s resurrection?"

"I think forces opposed to God's work recognized the threat that evidence represented," Father Mark replied. "They moved against you even before Thursday's divine confirmation. And I think you're going to be crucial to whatever comes next."

"I don't understand."

"John Foster has been commissioned for a specific ministry—one that will likely require significant internet capabilities to reach the global Christian community. Who better to help establish secure, uncensorable communication channels than someone who's already been through digital persecution and emerged stronger?"

Dimitri stared at his newly built workstation, seeing it suddenly in a different light. Not just a replacement for what had been destroyed, but preparation for something larger.

"Father Giuseppe and I want to meet with you," Father Mark continued. "We believe God is assembling a support network around John Foster, bringing together people with the skills needed for his mission. We want to offer our counsel and assistance, and we think your technical expertise will be essential."

"When?" Dimitri asked, though he already knew his answer.

"Tomorrow evening, if possible. At St. Nicholas. Seven o'clock."

After ending the call, Dimitri sat in silence, staring at the blank monitors. Marina appeared in the doorway again, this time without Katya.

"Bad news?" she asked, noting his expression.

"I'm not sure," Dimitri replied slowly. "Father Mark thinks what happened to my accounts wasn't random targeting. He thinks it was connected to that video I posted about John Foster."

Marina moved behind his chair, placing her hands on his shoulders. "The man who supposedly came back from the dead?"

"According to Father Mark, not supposedly. He witnessed Foster perform a miracle healing on Thursday morning. Then God himself commanded the priest to anoint Foster as a prophet."

Marina was quiet for a long moment. "Do you believe it?"

Dimitri considered the question seriously. He believed in God, believed in miracles, in principle, even if he had never witnessed one himself. But believing in them abstractly was different from accepting that one had happened in present-day Texas to a businessman from Dallas.

Yet the timing was undeniable. He had been digitally assassinated for posting evidence of Foster's resurrection, and two days later Foster was anointed as a prophet by divine command. That suggested forces were already moving to suppress information about the man—and those forces had acted with prophetic anticipation.

"I believe someone powerful enough to wipe me off the internet thinks John Foster is a threat," Dimitri said finally. "They acted against me even before Thursday's divine confirmation. That alone makes him worth paying attention to."

"And if he really is what he claims to be?"

Dimitri turned to meet his wife's eyes. "Then we're living through Biblical times. And God may have used my destruction as preparation for something much more important than OrthoBro1054 ever was."

Marina squeezed his shoulders. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

Dimitri looked back at his computer, then at the external drive containing his only surviving copy of the Foster interview. Perhaps his digital death hadn't been the end of something, but the beginning.

Tomorrow evening, he would meet with two priests from different traditions who both believed they had witnessed the divine commissioning of a modern prophet. And maybe, just maybe, he would find out what God wanted from a Russian Orthodox IT consultant whose entire online presence had been sacrificed on the altar of bearing witness to the impossible.

The thought both terrified and exhilarated him.