This is it. The end of the line. The famous last stand. Your freshly-looted chainsaw thunders into life, kicking and spluttering with malicious intent. Multiple warning labels suggest that the device was not intended for carnage. Maybe its brothers were birthed for the garages of middle-aged men? destined to rust in the dark, but the family resemblance is nil. This is a weapon, a furious tool of wrath and vivisection screaming to have its warranty voided.
