Morning came, and Elias arrived at the venue. He set up his rig, feeling like a genius who had outsmarted the system. As the gala began, the feed was crisp. Thousands of viewers tuned in. The client was beaming.
He stared at the checkout page: several hundred dollars. It was money he didn’t have, not until the gala’s deposit cleared. Morning came, and Elias arrived at the venue
Panic surged through him. He tried to kill the process, but the keyboard was locked. On the main broadcast feed, the professional graphics were replaced by a garbled, mocking image of a skull. The audio turned into a deafening, distorted screech. Morning came, and Elias arrived at the venue
The gala went dark. The charity organizers rushed toward him, their faces masks of confusion and anger. Morning came, and Elias arrived at the venue
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