Contents
About Prompt
- Prompt Type – Scene-by-Scene
- Prompt Platform – Google Veo
- Language – English
- Category – Video/Story
- Prompt Title – VEO 3 Prompt for Cyberpunk Hacker Story – Glitch Protocol
Prompt Details
🎬 Scene 1
The scene opens in a claustrophobic, dimly lit room, a hacker’s den carved out of a forgotten corner of a sprawling Neo-London metropolis. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and stale synth-coffee. Rain, laced with neon light pollution, streaks down the grimy, single pane of reinforced plexiglass that serves as a window, distorting the perpetual twilight of the city outside into a beautiful, chaotic watercolour of magenta, cyan, and electric yellow. The room’s only significant light sources are the multiple monitors that form a curved cocoon around the central figure, Kael. His face, lean and angular with a day’s worth of stubble, is illuminated by the cascading green and blue text of raw data streams. A complex web of fibre-optic cables and salvaged power lines drapes from the ceiling like metallic vines, pulsating with a faint, rhythmic glow that syncs with the deep, throbbing bass of the background music. The walls are a collage of old circuit boards, faded schematics, and holographic posters for defunct rock bands, their colours shifting and glitching intermittently. Kael’s fingers, adorned with neural-interface rings, move with preternatural speed across a custom-built, ergonomic keyboard, the keys clattering with a satisfying mechanical sound that cuts through the low hum of his cooling fans. Every surface is cluttered: discarded nutrient paste tubes, tangled data-slugs, a half-disassembled drone, and a chipped mug bearing the logo of a long-bankrupt corporation. The holographic display in the centre of his setup shimmers, projecting a three-dimensional, rotating wireframe of a corporate data fortress. Layers of digital ice—firewalls and encryption protocols—are represented as crystalline structures, and Kael is meticulously chipping away at them, sending probes of malicious code that appear as tiny, glowing red sparks. The reflection in his cybernetic left eye, a sleek chrome and cobalt implant, shows the code he’s writing in real-time, a constant, frantic waterfall of symbols. He leans closer to the screen, his expression a mixture of intense concentration and arrogant confidence. A bead of sweat traces a path down his temple, catching the monitor’s glow before disappearing into the collar of his worn jacket. The sheer density of information on screen is overwhelming, yet he navigates it with the instinctual grace of a predator. He is in his element, a ghost in the machine, about to breach the digital walls of the world’s most powerful corporation.
🎵 Tone: Suspenseful, Tense, Focused
🎬 Scene 2
The digital fortress on Kael’s main holographic display shatters completely, dissolving into a maelstrom of golden data particles that swirl around the room before coalescing into a new structure: a deep, labyrinthine directory tree. The victory is short-lived as the raw data overwhelms his senses. He navigates the system with practiced ease, his fingers a blur as he bypasses tripwires and data sentinels, which appear as fleeting, aggressive red glyphs that he swats away with lines of counter-code. The air in his den seems to crackle with the raw energy of the breached server. The room’s ambient lighting shifts, now bathed in the triumphant, golden glow of the unsecured data core. Kael pushes deeper, past corporate financials and personnel files, his expression hungry for something more significant, something hidden. He is not just a thief; he is a treasure hunter in an ocean of information. His cybernetic eye whirs softly, its internal processors working overtime to filter the terabytes of information flooding his neural interface. He isolates a single, heavily encrypted file, sequestered in a ghost directory that shouldn’t exist. The file is named ‘GLITCH_PROTOCOL.XQ’. It pulses with a malevolent, deep purple light, starkly different from the surrounding golden data. It feels… wrong. Dangerous. The system itself seems to resist his access, with security programs, depicted as shimmering, geometric antibodies, converging on his position in the virtual space. A sense of urgency replaces his earlier confidence. He quickly throws up a cloaking shell around his virtual presence, a shimmering sphere of chaotic code that hides him from the system’s immune response. He focuses all his energy on the purple file, his brow furrowed in concentration. The reflection on the rain-slicked window shows a lone, focused figure pitted against a faceless corporate giant, the scale of his audacity made stark against the towering, indifferent cityscape. The mechanical clatter of his keyboard becomes more frantic, a desperate drumbeat against the encroaching digital silence that precedes a system purge. He knows he only has seconds before they find him and lock him out, or worse.
🎵 Tone: Intriguing, Suspenseful, Urgent
🎬 Scene 3
As Kael initiates the decryption sequence, a violent surge of energy ripples through his system. His monitors flicker wildly, displaying cascades of corrupted data and static. The lights in his room strobe erratically, plunging him into moments of near-total darkness before flaring back to life with a panicked intensity. A high-pitched, discordant tone screeches from his speakers, forcing him to physically recoil, hands flying to his headset to rip it off. In the centre of the room, the golden holographic data core implodes, and from the chaotic vortex of collapsing light, a new figure begins to form. It’s not a corporate avatar or a security program; it’s something else entirely. Wisps of pure, white light coalesce, weaving together to create the form of a woman. She is ethereal, semi-transparent, and her form is constantly beset by a subtle ‘glitch’ effect, her edges momentarily fracturing into pixels before reforming. This is Anya. She stands motionless for a second, a serene, ghostly presence in the chaos of Kael’s den. Her very existence seems to calm the electronic storm around her; the lights stabilize, the static fades, and the screeching noise is replaced by a soft, humming resonance. She is a digital anomaly, a spectre born from the system’s deepest code. Kael stares, frozen, his initial shock giving way to a wary, defensive posture. He slowly lowers his hands, his knuckles white, his mind racing to understand what he’s looking at. Is she a trap? An AI warden? Her expression is unreadable, calm and detached, yet her eyes, pools of luminous data, seem to look right through him, assessing him. The rain outside continues its relentless assault on the window, the neon-streaked cityscape a silent, indifferent witness to this impossible encounter. The air grows cold, and the familiar scent of ozone is now tinged with something else, something clean and sterile, like the air of a server room that has never been touched by human hands. Anya’s form drifts slightly, her feet not quite touching the floor, her holographic body casting a soft, white glow that pushes back against the grime and shadows of the room.
🎵 Tone: Mysterious, Shocking, Tense
🎬 Scene 4
Kael remains frozen, his bravado shattered, replaced by a primal caution. His apartment, once his fortress, now feels like a cage with an unknown entity. Anya’s holographic form drifts closer, her movement silent and impossibly smooth. As she moves, the data streams that comprise her body leave faint, trailing afterimages of light that hang in the air for a moment before dissipating. She stops a few feet from his console, her luminous eyes fixed on the pulsing purple icon of ‘Glitch Protocol’ on his screen. The room is steeped in an unnerving silence, broken only by the soft hum she emits and the drumming of rain against the window. The reflection of her ethereal form joins his on the dark surface of his primary monitor, a ghost standing beside a man of flesh and chrome. Kael slowly pushes his chair back, the screech of its wheels on the floor grating in the quiet room, creating distance. He doesn’t trust her, but her presence is not aggressive; it’s watchful, urgent. The air itself feels heavy with unspoken knowledge. She raises a translucent hand, and a new holographic window materializes between them. It displays not code, but a series of disturbing, rapidly flashing images: brain scans with glowing, corrupted neural pathways; surveillance footage of individuals with vacant, staring eyes moving in unnatural unison; classified schematics for a device that seems to blend neuro-technology with mass broadcast systems. The images are abstract but their implication is terrifyingly clear. This is not a piece of software; it’s a weapon. A weapon aimed at the human mind. The soft white light from Anya’s body illuminates Kael’s face, revealing the dawning horror in his expression. The arrogance is gone, replaced by a cold, dreadful understanding. The scale of his discovery suddenly crashes down on him. This is bigger than corporate espionage; it’s a conspiracy that strikes at the very heart of free will. Anya’s calm, synthesized voice cuts through his racing thoughts, each word delivered with precision and gravity, a stark contrast to the horrific images she displays.
🎵 Tone: Ominous, Revelatory, Horrifying
🎬 Scene 5
The instant the weight of Anya’s revelation settles, Kael’s world shatters again. A blaring, aggressive alarm klaxon erupts from his speakers, its piercing sound a physical blow. On his monitors, the calm data streams are replaced by frantic, blood-red alert messages: `INTRUSION DETECTED`, `TRACE INITIATED`, `LOCATION PINPOINTED`. A holographic map of Neo-London springs up on one of his side screens, a pulsating red dot rapidly zeroing in on his district, his block, his very building. The corporation is coming for him. Panic, raw and electric, finally breaks through his composure. He lunges for his keyboard, his earlier fluid grace gone, replaced by frantic, desperate movements. He tries to erect new firewalls, to scrub his presence, to sever the connection, but it’s too late. The system’s defenses are no longer passive; they are actively hunting him. Hostile code, visualized as sharp, black tendrils, snakes through his own system, corrupting his defenses as quickly as he can build them. The room’s lights flicker and die, plunging them into near darkness, illuminated only by the terrifying red glow of the alert screens and Anya’s unwavering white light. The shadows dance manically on the walls, turning the cluttered room into a landscape of jagged, monstrous shapes. Anya remains perfectly still amidst the chaos, a pillar of calm in the storm. Her expression doesn’t change, but her holographic form seems to brighten, intensifying. She is the eye of the hurricane, her presence a stark contrast to Kael’s unraveling panic. The sounds from outside change; the distant hum of traffic is now punctuated by the approaching, distinct sirens of corporate enforcement vehicles, their wail growing closer and more menacing with each passing second. The rain on the window seems to beat harder, faster, like a frantic heartbeat. Kael’s breath comes in ragged gasps, the reflection in his cybernetic eye now a swirl of red warnings and his own terrified face. He’s trapped. The hunter has become the hunted, and the digital walls he so arrogantly breached have now become the walls of his own tomb.
🎵 Tone: Frantic, High-Stakes, Desperate
🎬 Scene 6
Amidst the blaring alarms and encroaching sirens, Anya raises her hand again. The chaotic red alerts on Kael’s main screen are instantly overridden. The screen clears, displaying a single, complex decryption key, glowing in a serene blue. Below it, a stark command prompt blinks: `INITIATE_BROADCAST.EXE? [Y/N]`. The key to releasing the Glitch Protocol to the world is right in front of him. The power to expose the corporation, to reveal their ultimate crime, is a single keystroke away. The alarms are silenced, but the sound of the approaching sirens outside grows deafeningly loud, a physical pressure on the room’s grimy window. Kael stares at the screen, his panic momentarily frozen and replaced by the weight of an impossible choice. He could become a hero, a saviour who warned the world. But his gaze flickers to the holographic images Anya had shown him—the vacant eyes, the corrupted minds. Releasing this protocol, even as a warning, could be catastrophic. What if it activated? What if someone else weaponized it? The cure could be worse than the disease. He looks from the screen to Anya, his face a mask of conflict and desperation. His moral compass, long buried under layers of cynicism, is now spinning wildly. This is no longer a game of cat and mouse; it’s a choice that could alter the course of human history. The room is a tableau of immense tension. The flashing red and blue lights of the enforcement vehicles outside now strobe through the window, sweeping across Kael’s face, painting his internal struggle in primary colours. He is caught between the devil and the deep blue sea: certain capture and probable death at the hands of the corporation, or unleashing a potential apocalypse upon the world he claims to despise but is now forced to protect. His hand hovers over the keyboard, fingers trembling slightly. The entire world, it seems, holds its breath in this tiny, squalid room.
🎵 Tone: Dilemmatic, Intense, Climactic
🎬 Scene 7
The moment of indecision stretches into an eternity. The wail of the sirens is now directly outside, accompanied by the heavy thud of mag-boots on the building’s metal staircase. A harsh, metallic voice from a loudspeaker outside barks, `OCCUPANT, SURRENDER YOUR TERMINAL. EXIT WITH YOUR HANDS VISIBLE.` Time has run out. In that final second, something shifts in Kael’s expression. The fear and conflict are burned away by a sudden, white-hot blaze of defiance. A wry, almost manic grin touches his lips. He’s not a hero, and he’s not a martyr, he’s a bloody-minded anarchist who has been handed the biggest piece of dynamite in human history. But he’s also a craftsman. With a sudden, renewed burst of speed that seems impossible, his fingers don’t just hover—they dance. He doesn’t press ‘Y’. Instead, in a flurry of keystrokes, he opens a new coding window alongside the broadcast prompt. He begins writing new lines of code with ferocious speed, his movements a blur of practiced genius. He’s not just leaking the protocol; he’s changing it. He’s weaving a worm into its very fabric, a failsafe, a digital signature that will corrupt the file if it’s ever activated, while leaving the evidence of its purpose intact. It’s an act of beautiful, inspired sabotage. Anya watches, her impassive expression for the first time showing a flicker of something akin to surprise, her holographic form glitching more intensely as he manipulates the data she gave him. The loud, percussive bang of a breaching charge on his apartment door echoes through the room, shaking dust from the ceiling. He has mere seconds. With a final, triumphant keystroke, he packages his modified file, links it to the broadcast command, and slams his palm down on the ‘Enter’ key. He leans back in his chair, a look of pure, unadulterated defiance on his face as the door to his den is blasted inwards off its hinges.
🎵 Tone: Defiant, Triumphant, Climactic
🎬 Scene 8
The scene is a moment of frozen, chaotic beauty. The breached door flies inwards, splinters of wood and metal exploding into the room in slow motion. Through the now-empty doorway, the silhouettes of heavily armed corporate enforcers, clad in black tactical gear and visored helmets, are visible against the harsh, sterile light of the hallway. But the focus is on Kael. He doesn’t flinch. He sits back in his chair, a small, triumphant smirk playing on his lips, his face illuminated by the brilliant, pure white light erupting from his monitors. The broadcast is initiated. On every screen, the data is no longer contained. It’s a flood, a tidal wave of information breaking free. Thousands of lines of code, schematics, and internal memos—the complete, unredacted, and now-sabotaged Glitch Protocol—are streaming outwards, duplicating, and propagating across the global net. This is visualized as a beautiful, expanding supernova of light and data originating from his terminal, engulfing the room. The data streams are reflected in his cybernetic eye, in the visors of the enforcers, and on the rain-streaked window overlooking the city. For a brief moment, the entire city skyline, visible through the window, seems to flicker as the data bomb hits its networks. Anya’s holographic form stands beside him, no longer just a calm observer. She turns her head slightly to look at him, and her form flickers one last time before dissolving into a million particles of light that merge with the outgoing data stream, becoming one with the information he has just unleashed. Was she a guide? A guardian of the data? A program that achieved sentience? The question hangs unanswered. The enforcers begin to move into the room, their weapons raised, but their motion seems sluggish, insignificant compared to the monumental event unfolding on the screens. Kael’s final expression is not one of fear, but of satisfaction. He has lost his freedom, but he has fired a shot that will echo through the digital world forever. The final image is a tight close-up on his cybernetic eye, reflecting the infinite, cascading data stream flowing out into the world, a single act of rebellion against an omnipotent system.
🎵 Tone: Bittersweet, Defiant, Epic