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Ratchet logs on, eyes widening at the current progress and flood of shitposts in the game.
He wants to focus on the fact he caught these limey bastards (with the Fake limey Dest), but he is overwhelmed by the sense of dread caused by Dest and Watson's spam.
His eyes start veering toward his scotch placed away from his desktop.

24 hours have passed, and the word spreads.
"Well, Ratchet drank himself to death." Nat exclaims.
"I'll miss my friend." Dest says, sorrow slowly, softly echoing.
"Do you even feel slight guilt?" Watson asks Nat.
"No," Nat says.

The end.
 
Ratchet logs on, eyes widening at the current progress and flood of shitposts in the game.
He wants to focus on the fact he caught these limey bastards (with the Fake limey Dest), but he is overwhelmed by the sense of dread caused by Dest and Watson's spam.
His eyes start veering toward his scotch placed away from his desktop.

24 hours have passed, and the word spreads.
"Well, Ratchet drank himself to death." Nat exclaims.
"I'll miss my friend." Dest says, sorrow slowly, softly echoing.
"Do you even feel slight guilt?" Watson asks Nat.
"No," Nat says.

The end.
Sounds the plot to a villain's story.
 
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