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June 6, 2005

Stacy: Sabotage

There was a dull crump from the laboratory. Doors burst open, scientists pelting madly in all directions.

'Nowhere to run,' thought Brighton. He dropped the cutting laser into a wastebin and sauntered through the compound, not caring who noticed. In seventy seconds it would hardly matter who thought what at the Rockwell Fusion Research Labratory.

He found a niche, settled in to watch as the lab building folded in on itself. Decades of research felled by a tiny flaw.

In the millisecond before he died, Brighton noted the green hue of the plasma bubble.

'The color of money,' he thought.

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