"Sir! We have a problem!" Ash said, banging on the President's door frantically. It took several minutes for the President to open the door. When he did Ash had to restrain a gasp; his eyes were bloodshot, his hair dishevelled and his attire a mess. Behind him was a poorly concealed, empty, bottle of tequila.
"What is it?" the President grumbled before suddenly realising that something was off "Where's Fantome? He was supposed to be serving as my aid today."
"Well about that…" Ash said grimacing "You need to clean up and come outside."
Ten minutes later, the President was standing in the car park around the corner from the Underground's political centre. A large crowd was gathered around a humble VW Bug. Sitting in the driver's seat was Fantome… or rather what was left of him. Still attached to the charred remains of his corpse were the leads connecting the car's battery to his ears.
The President did not have time for the guilt to settle in however, for as he was about to open his mouth a gunshot rang out throughout the car park and a scream of "those of weak faith are as bad as those with none!" was heard shortly before a screech of tyres and a black vehicle driving off into the distance. The President stood stunned as he saw the body of gio7sm lying on the very edge of the carpark.
"It's one lunatic after the other and they keep getting bolder. Are they brave, desperate or is this something else entirely?
Fantome is dead. He was loyal to the Masses.
gio7sm is dead. He was a Blarzigordian.
The crowd soon dispersed the final few staying to ogle the corpses or the police, or in rare cases to pay their respects. The last two to leave were Bidoof FTW and arachnidsGrip.
"Who am I?" How did I get here?" Bidoof FTW asked arachnidsGrip, a vacant expression on his face. arachnidsGrip simply sighed and turned away, leaving him behind and muttering to herself.
"I hope you come back soon you poor bastard."
The car screeched to a halt in the garage, the feeder stepping out and laughing manically at his success.
"I have done it my lord! Great one bless me the pretender is dead! Only those who truly worship you shall remain! I am yours forever!" Even as he spoke, writing begun to etch into the wall in front of the Feeder of its own accord.
Your lord is pleased but he hungers for new blood. Blarzigord demands well-cooked meat, bring him someone with over 1000 posts to eat.