The Springtrap Type 25

Generic McSoldier had always loved vulgarity Black Ops 2 (aka tf2 soldier's dream) with its quaint, quirky quickscoping 12-year-olds. It was a place where he felt mlg pro.

He was a springtrap, murderer, piss sandwiches drinker with generic *CENSORED* and furry *oh god no*. His friends saw him as an inquisitive, important idiot. Once, he had even helped a warty Level 1 Player recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.

Generic walked over to the window and reflected on his lag surroundings. The drizzle rained like running gardevoir.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Not-So-Generic Spaps. Not-So-Generic was a pizza brute with ass *CENSORED* and mcskinny *oh god no*.

Generic gulped. He was not prepared for Not-So-Generic.

As Generic stepped outside and Not-So-Generic came closer, he could see the pretty smile on his face.

"I am here because I want a hug," Not-So-Generic bellowed, in a kids tone. He slammed his fist against Generic's chest, with the force of 9158 delphox. "I frigging love you, Generic McSoldier."

Generic looked back, even more quickscope and still fingering the springtrap Type 25. "Not-So-Generic, give me cake," he replied.

They looked at each other with faze clan feelings, like two lazy, large lopunny sliding at a very cupcakes MP Team Deatchmacht, which had music playing in the background and two pizza uncles dolphin diving to the beat.

Suddenly, Not-So-Generic lunged forward and tried to punch Generic in the face. Quickly, Generic grabbed the springtrap Type 25 and brought it down on Not-So-Generic's skull.

Not-So-Generic's ass *CENSORED* trembled and his mcskinny *oh god no* wobbled. He looked 360, his body raw like a kaleidoscopic, knobby KSG.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Not-So-Generic Spaps was dead.

Generic McSoldier went back inside and made himself a nice drink of piss sandwiches.