Work - Rantrucoff

On the screen, the command prompt turned a violent shade of red. The program—RanTrucoff—wasn't a standard virus. It was a chaotic swarm of logic bombs and backdoors. It didn't pick the lock; it melted the doorframe.

"Grab the data and get out, Rann!" Kael shouted. "You’ve got thirty seconds before their physical location ping hits your subnet." rantrucoff