V: Bug, ya could at least try to be... nice.
T-Bug: You want nice, supportive? Call a damn helpline.

The boys have prepared everything and found me a lamb. Blood will course through the fiberoptics, swirling and blending with the digital, opening the gates of the abyss. Death within arm's reach, the metallic taste of his scythe on my tongue, I will tug at the tangled cables of Fate. A hard reset, a blue screen, a brain reformatted... I'm ready. Luck be with me.

It's like uncle Estevez always said - "If you gotta choose between your ride and savin' someone else's life, always choose the ride."

Guess even pneumatic arms can't lift morale in a toxic workplace.

V: You Sergei?
Sergei: Nice of you to ask. Lately I feel there is neon sign over my head that says "Sergei who fuck with Tiger Claws."