Tales of the Admins

[arvg]

Mod-Al was not having a good time of it... He was sprinting down a forgotten aisle of ICANHAZSKYPE, which teetered and tottered behind him, as the growling BEAST of FLOOD powered after him, a cacophony of din, tentacles and tears that threatened to drag his soul into the briny depths never to be seen again.

Skidding around, he slid through a gap that had been created by someone invisibling an offensive post, small little star openings that were just big enough for him to scamper through, crashing back into the darkness as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

Some how, some way, Flood had created it's own consciousnesses, either that, or the mad hatter of Flood, the great arch villain Craig Ferguson had finally found a way to bring life to his dark soulless minions...

That had been why they'd banished him down there, wasn't it? To ensure his particular brand of insanity never ever saw the light of day...

He listened to the BEAST on the other thread, stalking about, snuffling for his trail, no doubt sore from where the loo brush had been stuffed unceremoniously up his kiester in a fit of blind luck that saw Mod-Al actually refraining from being pile driven through a stack of Mod-Dab's Ego mail...

"Al to Bridge," he panted, as the BEAST shuffled past, his voice a croak, "I need a positional reference..."

Reverend Del's voice echoed through the earphones, "You're on the reservation..."

Mod-Al's heart sank through his boots as he turned his head, shaking in abject fear as he did so, looking through the foggy mist towards the blinking eyes that were beginning to open around him by their millions.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

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