"I condemn you, John Crichton...to live!" Scorpius smiles. "...That your thirst for unfulfilled revenge will consume you." He lifts the chip and grins as John glares up at him. Scorpius looks down, into his eyes. "Goodbye."
Scorpius turns and leaves, with his regiment and his leather and his Braca and his neurochip and his wormhole knowledge and his victory and his revenge and his plan. And John Crichton screams, unmoving. With nothing at all.