The legacy servers, the bedrock of Omnicorp's entire client database, were shutting down one by one. The cooling systems had been overridden. Jack flew across the keyboard, his fingers moving with muscle memory he hadn't used in years. He bypassed the firewall, digging into the command logs. Someone had pushed a patch from the executive floor directly into the primary mainframe without running a sandbox test.
The code was riddled with conflicting commands. It was forcing the servers to infinite loop, overheating the CPUs. Greg. Jack tried to isolate the infected sector, but he was locked out. The admin credentials he needed had been changed.
The basement doors flew open. Greg stormed in, flanked by two security guards and a handful of panicked junior developers. "What the hell did you do, Thornton?" Greg screamed, spitflying from his lips. Jack stepped back from the console.
"I didn't do anything. Somebody pushed an untested patch from your department.." Greg pointed a manicured finger at him. "This is your hardware. You neglected the cooling units.
The whole system is melting down. Check the logs," Jack said, his voice dangerously calm. He was acutely aware of the junior devs whispering behind Greg. "They knew. They knew exactly whose fault this was, but they were terrified of Greg."
Greg stepped closer. He wanted an audience, and he had one. This was damage control. He needed a scapegoat before the board found out he had just paralyzed a billiondoll data firm. You're incompetent, Greg spat.
He looked Jack up and down, his eyes lingering on the faded flannel shirt, the grease stains on his jeans. Look at you. You're a mess. You come in here. You sleepwalk through your job.
You think we don't notice? You think we don't know? You spend half your shift on the phone with your kids' doctors. Jack's jaw tightened. Leave my daughter out of this.
Maybe if you spent less time playing mom and dad, you'd actually be useful here, Greg mocked, a cruel smile twisting his lips. No wonder your wife bolted. Who would want to rely on a loser who can't even keep a basement cold? The room went dead silent. Even the security guards looked uncomfortable.
Jack stared at Greg. For 5 seconds, the only sound was the whining pitch of the dying servers. Jack's hands balled into fists at his sides. He calculated the exact amount of force required to shatter Greg's jaw. It would take one swing, just one.
But then he saw Khloe's face. He saw the empty vials of insulin. He slowly unclenched his hands. Greg saw the surrender and his smile widened. "He had won.
He had dominated." "You're done, Thornton," Greg said loudly, making sure every person in the room heard. "You're fired. Clear out your locker. I want you off the property in 10 minutes or I'm having security drag you out.