Listen up, choom. Your rig’s already coughing blood and you’re still flexing like a bigshot. I slid into your subnet on ghost packets and burner relays, no trace, no heat. Your ICE is straight gonk, your daemons are chasing their own tails, and your whole architecture’s one bad tick from flatlining. I’m jacking in deep, shredding your Black ICE, zeroing your watchdogs, and strip-mining your datavaults while your system feeds you fake greens and happy lies. When the lag hits and your chrome starts stuttering, that’s me knocking. Screens go static, logs get scrubbed, backups get bricked. And don’t kid yourself, NetWatch can’t save you once I drag this mess screaming toward the Blackwall. When it’s over, you’re no better than a Jig-Jig joytoy, used up, cheap, and forgotten, while I delta scot-free into the neon with not a single trace left behind. This ain’t a threat, choom. It’s your obituary buffering