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Meanwhile, at the oHarmony HQ

#1
Inside a large room were fifteen men and women, all sitting in their respective seats. Some sat in front of panels, typing away at keyboards as they arranged matches, other stood by a giant aquarium, netting out algea from the tank. Two manatees swam around, picking out pink and blue balls that all had a names on them.

In the center of the room was a man dressed in a suit, smoking a large cigar. He had a receding hairline stretching to the back of his head, but what hair he did have extrended up a foot up in the air. His big bushy silver mustache featured prominently on his crusty face. He blowed up another puff of smoke as she finished his last e-mail on his laptop.

Once he finished typing, the computer retracted into the floor and the man reclined in his large velvet red chair. One of his subordinate approached.

"You sure it was wise to antagonize King Sombra like that?"

The boss took another long inhale on his cigar before blowing out another gust of smoke.

"Even if he knew where to find me, he'd never get to the Dataverse."

"But sir, was all this really worth it? Was it really worth the trouble?"

The boss chuckled under his breath, the subordinate felt like he may have asked a stupid question.

"Of course. I don't care if my son was a low life, King Sombra will pay for killing him."
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#2
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE FUCKING MANATEES WERE STOLEN?" Screamed the president.

First, somehow his location leaked to that damn dirty unicorn, now his employees lost a pair of marine mammals. He couldn't believe the sheer incompetance of his workers.

"Well, a couple of Green Peace guys showed up in a giant tanker-"

"WHY DIDN'T THE GODDAMN GUARDS STOP THEM?"

"It was lunch break."

"FUCK SHIT GODDAMN FUCKING IDIOTIC MORONS, HOW DO YOU FUCKING FAIL ME SO FUCKING GODDAMNED HARD! HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO MAKE FUCKING MATCHES!"

"Maybe we can do it ourselves?"

"FUCK YOU! WHAT IS THIS THE FUCKING DARK AGES! WE COMMAND THE SHIT EATING BEASTS FOR A REASON, MY GOD, WHAT DID I ENSLAVE YOU GUYS FOR IF YOU JUST GIVE ME THIS FUCKING SHIT!"

He plopped down on his large boss chair, his palm firmly pressed on his forehead. Quivering with anger, he reached for a cigar which was stashed away in a tin jar near the right side of his chair. He stuck it into his jacket, and when he pulled it out again, it was somehow lit.

He took a large puff from his cigar and he immediately started to calm down.

"Just make Charles do it. He has psychic powers, right? Maybe he can do something."

"But Charles only uses his powers to troll people..."

"I don't fucking care anymore."
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