The Lesson
He ran the executable. A crude, jagged interface popped up, themed in neon greens and blacks. It looked powerful. It looked dangerous. He started configuring his "payload," imagining the control he’d have.
A new window opened, but it wasn't one he had triggered. It was his own webcam feed. In the grainy, low-light image, he saw himself—pale, wide-eyed, and completely exposed. Below the feed, a chat box appeared: