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.

Rogue: Johnny, remember the plan?
Johnny: Get the payload on the elevator, arm it, let gravity do its thing. Explosion rocks the foundation, tower crumbles - chaos, screaming, roll credits.

Be alone with my thoughts? Near on unachievable these days.