03 [Audio//Common]

[sprayemnslayem]

[One moment Roland is at his workbench tweaking his turret and reaching for his tools, and the next moment a quarter of his room is gone...along with half of his left arm. Roland stares at his now bloody stump for a good six seconds before agonizing pain streaks up what's left of his arm.

He cries out and falls out of his chair, clutching at the wound. After a long and creative string of swears he grabs his comm.]

Need a medic! Now!