Reader discretion advised.
Twack… rolllll.
The roulette ball pirouetted along the wheel’s edge, teasing each pocket with a flirtatious clatter. Rick leaned in, fingers twitching around his chips, his pulse syncing with the spin.
Clack. Black.
A smirk tugged at his lips, sharp and restrained. Another win. He slid a single chip onto red, riding the high. Across the table, the croupier’s gaze darted briefly to a man approaching—smooth, unhurried, his tailored suit jacket and slacks radiating comfortable charisma off his athletic frame.
“Hey, Rick,” the man said, clapping a hand on his shoulder with easy familiarity. “How’s the night treating you?”
Rick’s face lit up. “Daniel! I’m great!” He gestured to his growing stack of chips, chest puffing slightly. “Not doing too bad, eh?”
Daniel slid into the seat beside him, tossing a chip onto Rick’s bet with a warm chuckle. “Love to see it. Still running that business of yours?”
Rick leaned back, savoring the moment. “Sure am. Just signed Zenith.”
He let the name linger, a quiet flex.
“Our biggest client yet.”
Daniel whistled, low and appreciative. “Never heard of them. Manufacturers?”
“Big ones,” Rick said, sitting taller. “Aerospace components. DoD contracts. Serious shit.”
Daniel raised his glass, a glint of admiration in his eyes. “Knew you’d make it big. Always respected how you grind.”
Rick’s grin softened, genuine now. Daniel understood him— the late nights, the relentless hustle, the climb to success. He wasn’t just some tech grunt. He was an entrepreneur.
Twack. Rolllll.
Another spin. Rick doubled down on red, cool as ever. Daniel mirrored him. Then, with a playful Texan drawl, Daniel asked, “But those big government guys—aren’t they paranoid about outsiders? What’s it you call yourself again? MMM… SSSPees?”
Rick laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. We take security dead serious. My setup’s tighter than Fort Knox.”
Daniel grinned wider. “Oh, come on. I bet some kid in a hoodie could crack it and jet off to Thailand with millions.”
Twack. Rolllll.
Loss. Rick’s jaw tightened. He doubled again. Daniel sat this one out.
“That’s Hollywood bullshit,” Rick snapped, a flicker of irritation breaking his calm. “I don’t mess around. Lawsuits aren’t my vibe. We lock it all down.”
Daniel raised his hands, mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just a simple guy. Firewalls, Antivirus, VeePeeNns, all that tech jazz—it’s Greek to me.”
Twack. Rolllll.
Loss. Rick muttered a curse, doubling down again, eyes narrowing. “Old school. My firm manages over 200 firewalls, managed through a sealed-off server in our virtual stack. Static IPs, Yubikey, Duo. No one’s waltzing in unless I say so.”
Daniel nodded, intrigued. “Sounds bulletproof.”
Twack. Rolllll.
Loss. Rick exhaled sharply, dropping to a single chip. “It has to be.”
Daniel chuckled, slipping into a exaggerated Texan twang. “My nephew set me up with a VeePeeNn and told me to ditch ‘admin’ as my Wi-Fi password. Said hackers could snatch IPs and run wild. You’ve got a tough gig, man.”
Rick’s patience thinned. “That’s child’s play. We don’t let random IPs or unverified users anywhere near admin access. Cyber insurance would have my head otherwise.”
Twack. Rolllll.
Another loss. His stack was dwindling. He hesitated, fingers hovering over his last chips. Then Daniel waved over a cocktail waitress—auburn hair pulled into a neat half-bun, her elegance understated but magnetic.
“Hey, Sam!” Daniel called. “You tormenting Rick again?”
Sam glided over, her smile teasing. “Always.”
“Double Laphroaig, no ice,” Daniel ordered. “Rick? My treat.”
“Same,” Rick mumbled, distracted by Sam’s fingers grazing the table’s edge.
Twack. Rolllll.
Loss. Rick swore under his breath.
“Rough night?” Sam asked, her tone soft and jovial. “Drinks coming right up.”
Rick slumped, mentally tallying. Seven losses? Eight? Red was overdue. He shoved his remaining chips onto red, defiant.
Daniel calmly stacked his untouched chips. Sam returned, setting the drinks down with care.
Twack. Rolllll.
Clack. Black.
Rick groaned, head dropping to the table. Sam and Daniel shared a fleeting smile.
Daniel patted his shoulder. “Luck’s a bitch tonight. Let’s ditch the wheel—drinks with my buddy instead. Maybe Sam’ll join us if she’s feeling nice.”
“Nope,” Sam teased, laughing. “But I’m off in twenty.”
“Promising,” Daniel shot back with a grin.
Rick grabbed his drink, the smooth and smoky sensation of Laphroaig easing his nerves. Life’s good, he thought. Money in the bank, a night at the tables—his little indulgence. The three drifted to the bar, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air as the night blurred into a warm haze.
---
Light stabbed through Rick’s skull—white, blinding, cold. His eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking against the glare. His head throbbed, mouth dry as ash. Blinking hard, the world sharpened: stone walls, low beams, the dank musk of his own cellar.
“Morning, Rick,” Sam’s voice purred.
He jerked, muscles straining—but he couldn’t move. Strapped to a chair, arms pinned to a metal table, his fingers splayed out like a specimen under glass.
“What the—Sam? What the hell is this?” His voice cracked, fear clawing at his throat.
CLACK.
The door creaked open, footsteps echoing—slow, deliberate. Daniel stepped into the light, his face a mask of cold composure.
“Daniel? Sam?” Rick’s pitch climbed, panic tangling his words as he thrashed against the restraints. “What’s happening?”
Silence. Just the hum of lights, the groan of pipes. Daniel loomed closer, eyes scanning him like a predator sizing up prey. Without a word, he gripped Rick’s pinky between thumb and forefinger.
Rick froze, breath hitching. “Daniel, what are you—”
SNAP.
A wet crunch. Pain exploded up his arm, a white-hot bolt that ripped a scream from his chest. His body bucked, but the straps held tight, trapping him in the firestorm of agony.
“Why—why are you doing this?!” he gasped, face paling, eyes wild.
Daniel’s voice cut through, smooth as a blade. “That was because I don’t like you, Rick.”
“What!? Why—oww, it hurts!” Rage and terror collided, his voice breaking.
“You said your setup was Fort Knox.” Daniel leaned in, his breath cold against Rick’s ear. “Let’s test that.”
He straightened, unruffled. “Here’s the game. I break your fingers—one by one—every time you lie or piss me off. Guess what happens when you run out?”
Rick spat, defiance flaring. “No! Screw you, Daniel! Let me—”
SNAP.
Another sickening crack. “AHHH! OWWW!” The scream was raw, animalistic, dissolving into sobs.
“I warned you,” Daniel said, flat and final.
“Please—stop! We’re friends!” Rick pleaded, tears streaking his face.
SNAP.
“AHHHH!” His voice shattered into a wet, broken whimper. His mind spun—How did this happen? One minute, drinks and laughs; now, a nightmare in his own cellar. Daniel’s dead eyes bore into him, unrecognizable. Had he ever known this man?
Daniel nodded to Sam. “Bring his things.”
She moved with grace, unzipping a duffel to reveal Rick’s laptop, phone, and Yubikey. His stomach dropped.
“How do you have that?” he croaked.
Sam’s smile was almost tender. “You don’t remember? You showed me everything last night…” Her soft laugh chilled him.
Slumped, hand pulsing with pain, three fingers twisted grotesquely, Rick couldn’t look at her. “You’re a smart guy, Rick,” she said, her tone soothing, maternal. “You’ve got what we need. Help us, and this ends. You walk—maybe even richer.”
Daniel grunted, stepping back, displeasure flickering across his face. Sam crouched beside Rick’s unbroken hand. “I can stop this. But you have to help me.”
His vision blurred with tears. “What do you want?” he rasped.
“Access,” she said simply. “Your datacenter. The management server with the 200 firewalls.”
“No… I can’t!” he stammered, shaking his head. “It’s locked down—static IPs, Yubikey, Duo. Any slip, and my team’s alerted.”
Sam nodded, acting impressed. “That’s why you’re still breathing.” She slid his laptop and Yubikey in front of him. His phone lit up, Duo blinking on the screen. “I don’t want passwords. I want you. Log in. Open the gate.”
“O-okay…” His voice trembled as she freed his good hand. He inserted the Yubikey, a soft chime confirming his login. Sam pointed. “Admin panel. New user: sysvault_ops. Match your permissions. Whitelist this IP: 62.211.8.118. It’s in your subnet—no flags.”
He hesitated. “W-Who’s this traced to?”
“You,” she said, unflinching. “Our insurance. Help us, and it’s fine. You get a cut, a new name, a new life. Thailand, remember?”
His hand shook over the “Create” button.
Click.
Sam took over, her fingers flying. She opened the firmware utility, selecting targets: NorthEdge Dynamics, HydraForm Utilities, Xyventra Systems. “Quiet ones,” she murmured. “They won’t notice.”
“You can’t,” Rick choked. “Those are critical—”
Daniel flicked a Zippo.
Flame. Rick froze at the sound.
“Systems?” Sam finished for him. “Exactly.” She dropped a file—Agent_314.bin—into the queue. “Shadow Stack. DNS tunneling. Stealthy.”
She clicked “Deploy.” Rick shut his eyes, guilt and dread pooling in his gut. Hours passed as Sam built her web: SSH tunnels, exfil tools, fake certificates. “They’ll never know,” she cooed. “Not for weeks. Blueprints, contracts, passwords—they're ours.”
She turned to him. “You’ll be rich and free.”
The screen flashed green:
Deployment Successful.
Sam handed him water. “You did good, Rick.”
Outside, Daniel exhaled smoke, texting on a burner: “Yes, I’m fine and inside. You?”
---
Two weeks later, Adam, Zenith’s IT manager, slammed his desk. “Where the hell is Rick? He’s AWOL!”
Fifty miles away, Rick lay crumpled beneath an overpass. Broken. Wallet gone. Heroin coursing through his veins—an overdose no one would question.
END.
———
This is a work of fiction, inspired by real-world incidents and events.
Any references to names, companies, or events is purely coincidental.
How to Prevent This Attack
What happened to Rick wasn’t just a failure of physical security, it was a breakdown in architecture, trust, and doctrine.
Too often, organizations stack layer upon layer of firewalls, monitoring tools, and authentication rituals… but still leave a single point of failure exposed. And in critical infrastructure, that point is often a person or business—a contractor, vendor, or third-party admin who holds the master keys to systems they don’t even own.
Rick wasn’t the target. He was the vector.
Here’s how to ensure your organization doesn’t meet the same fate:
➡️ Avoid nonsensical centralization.
Some things have to be centralized. Others absolutely shouldn’t be.
➡️ Restrict third-party access to zero standing privileges.
Access should be temporary, scoped, and verifiable. If they don’t need it right now, they shouldn’t have it.
➡️ Autonomize your perimeter.
MSPs and cloud-based systems create compounded risk. Ask yourself: what’s the more attractive target: a small solar panel manufacturer, or a service provider with access to dozens just like it? Know the level of risk before granting access.
This breach was preventable. But not by firewalls, MFA, or false assurances.
True sovereignty doesn’t rely on trust—it removes the need for it.
🔗 Read the full breakdown in POST_MORTEM: a cyber-thriller for some, a real-world playbook for those defending critical infrastructure.