You unlock your phone and open the chat, the earlier messages still sitting there. For a moment, you think about how to frame it. With Mango, there’s no value in overexplaining. He doesn’t read tone. He reads outcomes. You know how this works: in the modern Ransomware-as-a-Service (RaaS) model, you are strictly an affiliate. Mango manages the technical operators who deploy the encryptor. Your only job is to provide the initial access. If you succeed, you get a percentage of the multimillion-dollar payout, washed through a dozen cryptocurrency mixers. If you fail, Mango ghosts you. You type. "Reached out to Isabella. Referenced pharma concentration and NHS funding angle. She acknowledged but stayed guarded. Tried probing internal positioning, she pushed back. Asked for clarification on my angle. I pulled it back to general sentiment and kept it external. Still engaged. No flag." You read it once, then send it. The reply comes almost immediately. "Good. Don’t push internal again." You stare at the message for a moment, then type again. "She’s open to continuing discussion on market sentiment." There’s a pause this time, just long enough to notice. Then: "Stay there. Build trust." You lean back slightly, letting the exchange settle. There’s no praise in it, no reassurance, just direction. It’s efficient, stripped of anything unnecessary, and because of that, it leaves no room for interpretation. You type one last message. "Understood." This time, there’s no reply. The chat goes still again, as if the conversation has reached its natural end without needing to say so. With Mango, it usually does. [[Cybercrime/The_Phisherman/Off to party!|Go to the party]]