It began as a whisper from Minsk. A post. A reel. A meme with far too much red in it.

From the propaganda wing of Belarus came a digital broadside aimed squarely at Leo Versteeg — NATO’s most prolific psychological asset. The caption was short, bitter, and echoed across Slavic botnets like a drumbeat from a dying ideology:
“You are dust.”

The message came with uncanny timing, woven through anti-Versteeg edits: clips of him speaking Dutch, slowed down and pitched like a demon; side-by-sides with collapsing bridges; Cyrillic subtitles that didn’t translate, but threatened.

For a moment, the internet held its breath. Even NATO’s psy-ops division paused to observe the countermove. And somewhere — amidst cables, Star Destroyers, and well-placed RGB — Leo narrowed his eyes.

“Dust, is it…” he whispered. “Then let’s talk erosion.”

He began his reply not with words, but syntax dissection. He posted screenshots of the Belarusian memes with sarcastic annotations like:

“Comma misuse: Slavic signature.”
“This font hasn’t been legal in the EU since 2007.”
“Syntax matches known Luhansk Telegram bots.”
Then, he went live.
The stream was titled: “Dust Settles. I Don’t.”

He spoke slowly. Calmly. In flawless Belarusian. He read their comment aloud — “You are dust” — and smiled.

“Dust is what’s left after something’s been reduced.
But I am not what’s left.
I’m what’s coming.”
Meanwhile, on a secure NATO channel, Mark watched.
Expression unreadable. Fingers steepled.
He let it breathe. Let the Belarusians think they had landed a blow.

And then he moved.

A statement appeared across all verified NATO feeds:

"Belarus has produced fine sarcasm.
Leo produces victories.
If you truly believe he is dust,
then I advise you to stop breathing.
The air may contain him."
— Mark, Secretary General of NATO, Supreme Architect
Within the hour, Belarusian meme accounts began posting apologies in Dutch.