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This is a companion fluff story for the /tg/ homebrew game Server Crash.

The Valve recovery team paused for a moment to survey the carnage. Ahead of them lay CHINANET, once upon a time the fourth most populous area on the Net. Now no more then a smoking blasted ruin filled with the dead and dying.

"Sven, what are you doing?" Dudemonster blurted out.

"I'm taking samples. The code of the area has been scrambled and warped beyond recognition, and there's only a few things that cause that." Sven responded.

"Elaborate a bit if you would - PLEASE" Dudemonster squeezed out. He wasn't very good at being diplomatic, Valve took him in because he could shoot not because he had any charisma.

"They formatted large areas of their own webforts in an attempt to destroy them. Interesting." Sven went quiet.

Dudemonster took his time with a measured response. "If I recall they did that a few times when this whole thing first started. It was one of few things that kept them away from the major population centers."

Sven paused for a moment. "It worked, too. Lost a few million lives, but it worked. But it didn't. The Olds didn't lose their stomach this time around. They didn't tap...and now look." Sven gestured at the webfort and looked at it for a second. The outer wall had been pierced in multiple areas and the main gate was torn off it's mechanisms. Large blast marks and melted defense systems marked a clearly one sided fight.

Dudemonster shrugged. "Team, we're headed into the residential sector and then to central administration. Ready weapons."

"...Additionally we're here for recovery and recovery only - no humanitarian heartbleeding today thank you. Them's orders."