Somewhere, in the Caribbean, Yoshida gets a call on his phone. "Yoshida-san, the Americans are unable to get into the game!" a distressed Canadian intern says, the suppressed sound of servers bursting into flames in the janitorial closet in which the NA servers are held being heard off to the side. "Hahahaha, Steve-kun, let them know what they earned for making fun of glorious Dragoon DPS!", Yoshida cackles, throwing the phone into the pool. His genetically engineered Miqo'te come to serve him his drinks soon after he kicks up his legs to the solid gold footrest he bought with the money from EA. "Ah, delicious American tears!" Yoshi exclaimed, opening his laptop to view the distressed calls for help as he deleted every last message from the  Aether server staff from his email.
![[Image: UsyQa9f.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/UsyQa9f.gif)
