A Ransomware Thriller: Riding Out to Meet the "Rough People"

Some ransomware negotiations are chess matches. This one is a soap opera.

Most victims try to look professional. They speak in terms of "management," "insurance," and "technical audits."

But in this negotiation with the ransomware group, the victim takes a different route. They don't just plead poverty; they plead absolute chaos.

They weaponize their own misery.

From "internal fights" and "sick children" to a bizarre, noir-style climax involving "rough people" in the middle of the night, this transcript is a masterclass in wearing an attacker down.

The victim proves that sometimes, the best way to lower a ransom isn't to be a shrewd negotiator.

It’s to be the most exhausting person in the room.

“Things Are Super Difficult Here”

The negotiation begins with the standard script. They are polite, almost corporate.

"For now you have to know that dealing with us is the best possible way to settle this quick and cheap."

They offer the usual menu: decryption, evidence of deletion, and a security report. They set the anchor at $225,000.

Usually, a victim responds with a counter-offer or a request for proof. Instead, this victim responds with a narrative of total organizational collapse.

"The company is not in a good position right now... things are really hectic here. And people want to do different things. Also stupid things."

When the attacker presses for a response, the victim doesn't talk about money. They talk about morale.

"Things are super difficult here. Some of the others seem to have abandoned all hope... We own unsellable buildings. People are disillusioned."

This is the "Chaos Defense."

By painting a picture of a company that is already dead, the victim subtly undermines the leverage of the ransomware. You can’t kill a body.

the attackers tries to cut through the noise:

"We've heard these stories many times. What do you offer?"

But the victim refuses to be hurried. They are not just negotiating for a discount; they are negotiating for sympathy.

The "Sick Child" Pivot

The psychological warfare hits a peak when they try to apply pressure.

"We are waiting for your offer today."

The victim responds with a paragraph that is so personal, so frantic, and so unprofessional that it stops the attackers in their tracks.

"The last 24 hours have been absolutely rough. I almost didn’t sleep last night, and when I finally fell asleep I got woken by my smallest child who was sick all over the place."

They apologize for "annoying" the attacker, admitting they "just had to get that off my chest."

It is a brilliant, if desperate, move.

It forces the human operator behind the "Support Chat" to step out of their role as a terrifying extortionist and into the role of a reluctant therapist.

It strips the transaction of its sterile, business-like appearance. It is hard to demand a quarter-million dollars from someone who is currently cleaning up vomit and fighting with their colleagues.

The victim reinforces this by describing a "crazy internal fight" where people are shouting at each other and threatening to sue.

They position themselves not as a decision-maker, but as a helpless middleman trying to save a sinking ship.

The $71,500 Anchor

After days of delay and emotional dumping, the victim finally drops their anchor.

They preface it with maximum humility:

"I know you may think I am not serious-minded and quite annoying... I have USD 71,500."

This is roughly 30% of the initial demand.

The attackers rejects it immediately:

"Your offer is not enough... we are ready to accept $170,000 and get this over with."

The gap is nearly $100,000. Most negotiations would stall here.

But the victim goes back to their primary tactic: Desperation.

"Right now I feel lost. And desperate... even my smallest steps are so heavy. This is so overwhelmingly scary and painful."

They claim to be "out of energy" and "out of help," eventually scraping together $93,300—their "all in" number.

The attackers are frustrated. They tell the victim to "organize a meeting" and "not give up," essentially coaching the victim on how to find money to pay them.

But the victim has one final card to play. And it is the weirdest card in the deck.

The "Rough People" Narrative

When the price is stuck at $125,000, the victim needs to bridge the gap without admitting they have corporate funds.

They need the money to come from a source that is limited and dangerous, so the attacker won’t ask for more.

So, the victim invents a scene straight out of a movie.

"I took a big chance and my neck is on the line for real here. I rode out to meet some very rough people to solve the bitcoins."

They imply they borrowed money from loan sharks or criminals physically dangerous enough to make the attacker look calm.

"I pray to God I don’t need to talk to them again."

This changes the dynamic instantly.

The victim is no longer a corporate suit withholding funds; they are a desperate individual risking physical harm to satisfy the ransom.

It creates a hard ceiling. You cannot ask a man to go back to the "rough people" for another $10k. He might get his legs broken.

The victim produces a screenshot of 1.562 BTC (roughly $100,000 at the time).

The attackers see the wallet. They see the "risk" the victim took. And they fold.

"$100,000 and we have a deal here."

The Security Report: A Final Irony

After the payment is made and the decryptors are sent, They provides their usual "Security Report" as part of the service.

The advice is standard corporate IT hygiene:

"None of your employees should open suspicious emails."

"Use strong passwords, change them as often as possible."

"The most vulnerable point is the human factor and the irresponsibility of your employees."

The irony is striking.

The attacker lectures the victim on "irresponsibility," completely unaware that they have just been manipulated by a master of "human factor" engineering.

The victim closes the chat with a final, polite nod to the strange relationship they built:

"Thanks for listening to my troubles and helping me get through this."

What This Case Teaches

This transcript highlights that in ransomware negotiations, emotional labor is a currency.

• Chaos Dilutes Authority: By flooding the chat with internal drama, unsellable buildings, and screaming colleagues, the victim made the environment feel too unstable to support a high ransom.
• The "Helpless Middleman" Wins: The victim never claimed to be in charge. They claimed to be "fighting on two fronts," sandwiched between angry colleagues and the attackers. This absolves them of the power to say "yes" to higher numbers.
• Narrative Ceilings Work: The "rough people" story was absurd, but effective. It explained why there was no more money in a way that spreadsheets never could.
• Fatigue is Leverage: The negotiation dragged on. The victim wrote long, emotional paragraphs. Eventually, the attackers took the $100k just to stop the conversation.

The attacker thought they were extorting a business.

In reality, they were charging a consulting fee for listening to a soap opera.