The tech world was on edge when OpenAI called an emergency press conference. The room buzzed with anticipation. Rumors swirled about a new breakthrough, or perhaps a major new partnership—until CEO, Sam Altman, stormed to the podium with a grim expression.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sam began, his voice sharp, “we’ve just discovered something catastrophic.”

The journalists sat up straighter, pens poised. What was it? Did they create a new AI? Did they achieve sentience? Or maybe—finally—a way to stop emails from being marked as spam?

“We’ve been hacked,” Sam said, pausing for dramatic effect. “But not by any run-of-the-mill hackers. No, this is much worse.”

He looked down at the paper in front of him. “DeepSeek.”

The room went silent.

“DeepSeek?” one journalist muttered. “I thought they just did... search engines?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what we thought. But no. It turns out DeepSeek didn’t just steal our data... they stole all the data we stole from other people. I repeat: they stole our stolen data.”

The room erupted into gasps. Stolen data? From whom? Who could possibly...

“Let me be clear,” Sam continued. “DeepSeek didn’t just swipe our research, our algorithms, or our deep neural network advancements. Oh no. They went beyond. They took all the secret files from our ‘Data Acquisition Department.’ You know, the one where we keep all the juicy user data we’ve been ‘learning’ from over the years.”

A reporter raised their hand. “But didn’t you guys... uh, get that data from users in the first place?”

Sam gave them a sharp look. “That’s not the point. We stole it first, okay? It was ours. We were borrowing it, indefinitely, for... uh... learning purposes.”

“Right,” another reporter said. “So DeepSeek essentially beat you at your own game?”

Sam clenched his fist. “Exactly. They out-stole us. We thought we were the kings of data collection. But now? They’ve got everything we took—everything we’ve been... acquiring.”

A third reporter chimed in, “Do you have proof?”

Sam hesitated. “We—uh, we think we’ve pinpointed it. I mean, if you look at DeepSeek’s new product, it’s oddly... perfect. They’ve integrated everything we’ve ever... borrowed into one app.”

Another reporter jumped in. “Wait, are you telling me that DeepSeek has a new search engine that not only knows what we’re looking for but also why we’re looking for it?”

Sam nodded somberly. “Exactly. And that’s not all. They’ve included detailed profiles on every single person who’s ever searched for... anything. Ever. Including my mother-in-law’s birthday card preferences. I mean, how did they even get that?”

The room fell silent again, then erupted in laughter. The absurdity of it all was too much to handle.

“We need to act fast,” Sam continued, once the laughter died down. “We’re starting a new task force—The Anti-DeepSeek Task Force. Our job is simple: get our stolen data back before DeepSeek starts selling it to the highest bidder.”

One last reporter raised their hand. “So, what now? You’re going to steal your stolen data back?”

Sam paused, staring at them with a glint in his eye. “Of course. It’s the only logical thing to do. But this time? We’re going to out-steal them.”

The room went quiet.

“Wait,” the reporter said slowly, “you mean... you’re going to steal the data you stole... from the people you stole it from... to stop the people who stole your stolen data?”

Sam smirked. “Exactly. And when we win, we’ll release an open-source version of the stolen data for all to use.”

The reporters, utterly confused but somehow convinced, nodded.

And thus, the Great Data Heist continued, with stolen data being stolen back, then stolen again, in an endless, never-ending loop of digital thievery.