Meanwhile in Mordor, in the deepest bowels of Barad-dûr, a fresh crop of orcs is being hatched. As he slips out of his slimy cocoon, Prigozhin is being examined by a leering, black-faced orc. Aarhh, what an ugly one this is. You'll serve in the kitchens, to keep our Uruks in a foul mood, yes! Upon hearing this, Prigozhin's scream echoes louder than the roaring fires of Mount Doom itself: SHOIGU!! GERASIMOV!!! WHERE IS MY FUCKING ARMY?!?
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