Elias lunged for the power strip, but the mouse cursor moved on its own, snapping to the 'Record' button. The red light didn't just glow on the screen—it bled out into the room, staining the walls.

The speakers crackled. A synthesized voice, cold and perfectly modulated by the suite’s premium engine, spoke through his monitors.

The basement went silent. No hum. No wind. Just the sound of a single, perfect file being saved to the cloud.

He wasn’t supposed to have it. The "Free Download" tag on the forum thread was a digital siren song for a producer whose bank account was as empty as his master tracks. Elias clicked "Run," and the interface bloomed across his screen like a dark nebula.

Elias zoomed in until the waveforms looked like jagged mountain ranges. He looped a three-second clip. Clack. Clack-clack. Clack. It was Morse code.