The server couldn't render something that mathematically wasn't allowed to be there.
Sebastian let his remaining hand fall to his lap. He stared at the static.
The terrifying, invincible Sovereign of Laws was gone. He couldn't just casually edit away the damage. He couldn't just punch the universe until it gave him what he wanted.
He was permanently, utterly crippled.
"Seattle," Sebastian whispered into the comm-link, his voice dropping all of its usual sarcastic bravado. "We have a massive problem."
—-
Sebastian sat slumped against the cold, metal hull of the Rusthound, staring blankly at his right shoulder. Or rather, he stared at the exact spatial coordinates where his right arm was supposed to be.
It wasn't a bloody stump. There was no jagged bone jutting out, no torn muscle fibers, and no frantic, green error codes desperately trying to stitch the wound back together. It was just a perfectly smooth, two-dimensional plane of gray television static.
