The figure on the screen stood up. It didn't look like a character model; it looked like a tear in reality, a silhouette made of static and dead code. It walked toward the "camera," growing larger until its face—a void of shifting pixels—filled Leo’s entire monitor. Suddenly, Leo’s webcam light flickered on.
I can take the "crack" in the code in any direction you like.
"I just wanted the game," Leo whispered, his voice trembling.
It was a throne room. Empty, save for a figure slumped in the center.
"Just the crack," he muttered, overriding the security. "It always says that."
Leo froze. He tried to Alt-F4, but the keys were dead. He tried to pull the power cord, but his hands felt heavy, as if the air in his room had turned to lead.