Tales of the Admins

[Garrett Jax]

Garrett Jax was bored. The list of rule violators were dealt with in rapid succession by Admin Mwerte and the Staff. Now, it was time to celebrate. But what to do?

He spotted a shaking moderator, his arms wrapped about himself, mumbling incoherently and sitting precariously on one of the Temple's cafeteria chairs.

Garrett, realizing the poor guy was already suffering, decided against kicking him...this time. "What's the matter with you?" he asked.

The Moderator looked up at Garrett and jumped in fright.

Garrett tried to calm him. "Take it easy, bud. Just tell me what happened?"

"Mwerte...he uh, well...he beamed a couple of us into space for following your orders. He beamed me right next to the sun."

"Wow," Garrett said. "I was wondering why you looked so tan." He changed the subject. "Anyways, I want to know what you Moderators do for fun. I'm bored."

The Mod perked up, appearing to momentarily forget his discomfort, "For fun? Have you been to the Fights?"

"The Fights?" asked Garrett. "I can't say I have."

The Mod's eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, the Fights are awesome. Everybody, who's anybody, goes there. The action is nonstop and intense."

Garrett learned from the Moderator where the Fights were located. Apparently, it was an invite only, exclusive club where each member was actually a participant in various forms of combat. Thankfully, the Moderator gave him a pass to enter into the coliseum where the fights took place. Garrett .beamed himself over to the location, observing the sign above the door, which said,

Official Faction Leader Skype Chat.

What a strange title, he thought.

The first thing Garrett noticed was dark patches of blood spattered all over the walls, floor and ceiling of the foyer. Don't they keep this place clean? He wondered if this was what the foyer looked like, how bad must the coliseum itself be? Ahead of him were a set of large heavy doors that led to the main arena. Before he could go through them, however, the doors slammed open, nearly knocking him over. He dodged to the side as a pair of Mortals rushed a brutally disfigured man out of the arena. The moans and cries from the injured participant were drowned out by laughter and jeering from inside.

This is what they do for fun? Garrett silently questioned the sanity of these Mortals.

He entered the arena and quietly took a seat away from the crowds, in order to observe the melee that was playing out before him. There was a man, a Faction leader, that stood in the center of the arena. All around him, were other Faction leaders yelling and screaming at him. Soon enough, some of them started throwing punches. The Faction leader in the center threw punches back. Eventually, the number of punches became too much for him and he succumbed to the pummeling. Once he stopped fighting, the rest of the Faction leaders backed off, laughing and insulting him.

Soon, another Faction leader was chosen, seemingly by random, and the whole process began again. He was surrounded by his peers and the screams and taunts started flowing, followed by punches and kicks. Even the first Faction leader, who was already beaten, joined in the fight. This process played out over and over again.

Garrett found it quite interesting to watch. Each participant had his own style of fighting. No matter how good they were though, they all succumbed to the might of the rest. He wondered when they would tire of it and quit, but they never did.

After several rounds of fighting, a loud bell sounded and they all backed off into their own section of the arena. A large drum, the kind used for transporting oil, appeared from the top of the arena. It was slowly lowered down by a crane. It stopped about two meters above the arena floor and turned over, spilling out the worst substance Garrett had ever smelled.

Was that human excrement?

One of the Faction leaders ran up to it, grabbed a large handful and threw it at one of his peers, nailing him in the face. In turn, that Faction leader took a handful himself and returned the favor. It wasn't long before all the Faction leaders were hurling handfuls of crap at each other. The smell was horrific. Why were they doing this, he wondered. Some delighted in the crap slinging. Others were miserable. Yet, they all kept it up. When the final bell rang, they all stopped and immediately returned to their homes. They didn't even shower before they left.

This is what Mortals do for fun? Garrett asked himself. He recalled the Moderator that suggested he attend this awful place. He began planning horrible things for him. He wiped some residue excrement off his shoulder. Yep, Getting .beamed to the sun was going to be a picnic compared to what he had in store for him.

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