As the brightness begins to turn down again, you feel a sense of satisfaction run over you. One of your most hated enemies, now a pile of scrap...
Oh, fuсk.
In your hands is a large chunk of plastic alloy, silicon computer chips, and copper nanowire, ripped straight out of the server, as the sector's lights begin to flicker and the fire nozzles intermittently spout water to the tune of [b][i][HE'S GONE MAD, HE'S GONE MAD!!!][/i][/b] echoing from the hallway through the open sliding door.
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