I'm Actually Quite Selfish

[Tearen Wover]

"Over here! Over here!"

The voice came to Tearen, muffled and distant through a stifling blanket of darkness. It sounded shrill and cracked, like a child with pertussis. Unlike a sweet kid though, the intonation in the voice had a harsh, predatory tone. Tearen was aware of the haze filling his head...and not much else. Everything was fuzzy and disorienting. He was aware that he was probably alive again and in the Underverse, but why or how he had been killed was only a blur. He did remember that it had been his idea, however, so evidently everything was going to plan. The shadow squelched his thoughts as he heard more approaching voices.

"Are you sure you saw something? There's nothing here, Grubmeat."

"I'm telling ya! I saw a flash of Omnillium! More colors 'n I ever seen anywhere!"

Tearen made the note of attaching the name 'Grubmeat' onto the child-like voice. The other, more baritone growl didn't seem to be amused at all to have been dragged to wherever it was that Tearen was currently located. The Prime reached out with his senses in an experimental pulse of mental prowess, trying to get a feel for where he was. The first thing that came back was that he was upside down, and many feet above the ground. Some sort of casing was surrounding him; dense and fibrous. The first thing that came to mind was that he'd been webbed up by some sort of gigantic spider, but that was a disquieting notion and Tearen was feeling kind of vulnerable at the moment. Instead, he craned his ears for more voices.

"Which one, y'figure?" Grubmeat asked, his tone becoming hushed now. They sounded closer, and the Shadow could just barely make out their flickering minds through the psychic medium.

"That one looks freshest." grumbled the youthful demon's companion.

There was a pause before whatever tether was keeping Tearen's pod attached to the ceiling was somehow severed. There came a soft thump as he fell to the ground far below. The Shadow would have cried out had he possessed his voicebox, but evidently his speech was still impaired. A crinkling sound directly in front of his face indicated to Tearen that the pair of omnilium foragers were digging through this sac of his. There came a pang of bright, orange pain as light burst in through a fresh breach in his organic prison. The face of what he could only assume was Grubmeat greeted him, with a long snout full of misaligned teeth. It was a good thing that the Shadow's arms were still entombed, because he had a strong impulse to punch the ugly mug.

"Green! Green eye! Hey, this one's awake!" Grubmeat said, slinking off of Tearen's cocoon. Through the small aperture that was provided, Tearen blinked nonplussed at the monstrosity that now filled his vision. It was a towering humanoid creature with a ribcage splayed outwards and glowing blue eyes. Its skin was a muddy olive color, and it had not hair to speak of. The most remarkable feature of this other demon was, however, the tinier humanoid that occupied its eviscerated chest cavity. The slimy effigy twitched and squeaked languorously, as if in nothing but eternal pain. A cold finger that stung like the blackest of blizzards poked at the glassy flesh around Tearen's face.

"Oooohh...it has a stroonnng essence..." the larger demon said, his lipless grin stretching almost all the way to his ears. Tearen maintained his own, unblinking glaze, waiting for the right moment to lash out. The towering fiend ordered Grubmeat to cut more of the cocoon free from Tearen's body, but the ex-enigma remained totally still. Whatever fresh hell awaited when he was finally freed from this prison, he would be sure to have the advantage of surprise on his side. Feigning weakness always worked in the Omniverse for some reason, but he supposed that was what happened when demigods roamed the streets and hills...

[Tearen Wover]

Okay. Actually. Screw that.

Both demons let out a sharp scream as they were blown away from Tearen's cocoon. The telekinetic blast send Grubmeat flying into the far, slick cave wall with a sharp splat. The larger one looked back in half shock as he clambered to his feet, the smaller creature in his ribcage covering its eyes in fear.

"So..." whispered Tearen, rising from the shed wrappings like a glistening moth, "...what's your name?"

The hulking fiend staggered to his feet and shot a toothy glare at the Shadow.

"I guess the little runt was right, after all. Prime, eh? Don't your kind become terribly weak when you come back to life?" the emaciated ghoul cackled, running a clawed talon along his teeth. Tearen's cracked crystal mouth stretched into a nonplussed expression, reminiscent of the kind of look given to unexpected dog feces on one's shoe.

"Not sure. Let's test it out."

Just as a precautionary measure, the ex-enigma shifted himself into a higher relative flow of time and surged towards the startled...thing. The bastard still hadn't told Tearen its name, but that was okay. Things didn't need to have names to get punched. Tearen socked the slow giant in his face and observed quietly as he watched the gaunt face twist and grimace in slow motion. Time resumed its normal pace and the grey-skinned monstrosity tumbled to the cold floor. Tearen watched, po-faced, as the beast scrambled back to its bare feet and flung a crackling arc of bewitching energy at him. It bounced harmlessly off of a conjured ripple in space-time. This was really pathetic; Tearen had been spoiled on the hardened warriors of the arenas in the Underverse so far. If these were the kind of dregs the rest of this hell had to offer, things were going to become very boring.

"Yeah, I guess I'm not hitting quite as hard as usual." Tearen admitted with a shrug. He turned his back to the towering ghoul and began searching through the husk of his cocoon for his personal effects.

"You dare..." the monster started before trailing off. The demon could now see the insignia of Grooota etched on Tearen's back, glimmering with a sinister orange hue in the low light. The fact that the Prime was already another demon's property made him a much less enticing acquisition. Still, it was clear that this being had great power. The eviscerated ghoul looked down at the entrapped essence in his ribcage then back up at Tearen, still sifting through the contents of the fibrous sac. With a hungry lunge, the demon undead lunged at Tearen in a dead sprint. Five faceted constructs winked into existence in the air around Tearen and summarily blasted the encroaching wretch with a fusillade of particle beams.

"Look Deshawn," Tearen said, pulling his ragged robes over his torso and buckling all of his lovely straps into place, "I don't really feel like fighting anymore. I've been fighting like...constantly, since I got here and it's getting old."

"My name is not D-"

"Well you didn't tell me your name live with it. I'll see you later." Tearen said with a curt wave. Satisfied that he had all of his belongings, Tearen chose a random direction in the cave and started walking. Deshawn looked on with incredulity as the Prime began to depart before calling out in his gargling voice.

"Wait! Do you not wish to rescue this poor, captured soul? A heroic Prime such as yourself couldn't possibly leave such a wretch behind." Deshawn said, gesturing at the tiny creature stuck inside his exposed ribcage. The Shadow let out a long sigh and turned around, staring at the quivvering figurine. It was entirely possible this monster demon was bluffing him, but Tearen didn't really feel like probing his mind to find out; he really didn't feel well at the moment.

Whatever.

"Okay. How do I do that?"

The ghoul snickered.

"By killing me of-"

"Okay."

...

One induced singularity later, the ghoulish devil and most of the cave were completely destroyed. Tearen gathered his body back into a physical form as the last few rumblings of his event horizon shook down through the tunnels. Despite being and idiot and also dead, Deshawn had revealed something important to Tearen; he was indeed in a weakened state after being re-summoned. Turning into a black hole was always draining to an extent, but now all Tearen wanted to do was curl up back in his cocoon and sleep for the rest of the day. He still wasn't sure what had wrapped him up in such thick webbing in the first place, but apparently it wasn't in a hurry to get back to its nest.

The Prime snapped out of his self-indulgent pondering as a bright, powder-blue light began to blossom from the shredded corpse of Deshawn. The wisps of ethereal energy began to coalesce and weave themselves into a humanoid form, petite and curvaceous. A growing feeling of dread was brewing in Tearen's gut as the physical body resolved into that of an utterly lewd and scantily clad female. She had stupid little horns and winglets that looked completely non-functional. The Shadow was beginning to get a sinking feeling that he had just released a succubus from that fucker's ribcage. Once she had finished manifesting, she looked around the cavern with a bewildered look on her face before spotting Tearen, with his shoulders sagging and mouth clenched in a grimace.

"Ooohh mmyyyyyyyy~" she cooed, fluttering over and prostrating herself at his feet. She ran a finger up the seam of his loose sack-cloth pants and stared up into his scowling green eyes. She arched her back in a manner very obviously intended to reveal her plunging, cleavage ridden neckline.

"What big, strong warrior do I have the honor of...thanking for my rescue? Whatever you desire is surely fitting reward for such a gallant-"

"Nope." Tearen said, abruptly turning on his heel and storming off.

[Tearen Wover]

"Wait!" the succubus cried as Tearen stalked off in search of the cave's exit. It was clear that she wasn't going to be able to seduce him in this sort of atmosphere, but it was also clear that she wasn't going to simply be able to overpower him and have her way. After all, it was this Prime that had freed her from the Devourer; there was no doubt that he would be able to make short work of her. Not that, as a succubus, she did not have an array of formidable techniques. In a straight fight, however, this cloaked rogue was not to be trifled with. Perhaps there was a suitable middle ground. With a sudden lunge, the demonic vixen wrapped her arms around Tearen, hugging into his back and nestling her mouth next to where she presumed his left ear was.

"Hey now, this is the Underverse, babe. No need to pretend to be honorable hero." she hummed. Her pale hands wound their way down Tearen's torso before clamping tightly around his nether regions. Her eyes widened slightly as she was greeted with the presence of a giant, rock-solid nothing between his legs. She let out a small yelp as a telekinetic yank pulled her away from the barren Prime and plopped her on the ground a few feet behind him.

"If you're going to keep following me, we at least need to be on first name basis." Tearen uttered in his raspy voice.

"Chastity." the coquettish hellion chirped. Tearen did not turn around, and a long silence followed.

"Dick Slayer?" she tried, her toothy grin becoming somewhat self conscious. Again, there was no reaction from the Shadow.

"...Myla." the woman finally grumbled, settling her chin on an upturned palm. Tearen's face blossomed a cracked smile and he turned around to face the bewitching spirit. Imagine his surprise when she was sitting with her legs splayed apart, and her right hand barely covering the secrets beneath her poorly designed skirt. He chose to ignore this. Besides, there had to be more to this woman than simply playing the part of her infernal nature. Ilthiax and Gamil had taught him that all demons in the Underverse had a history and inherent identity that needed to be considered, even if they themselves chose to disregard it.

"Hello Myla. My name is Tearen. What exactly is it you're looking for?" the Shadow asked, his gleaming green eyes refusing to blink. Myla looked up at him sheepishly.

"Well, I mean, normally I'm supposed to trick guys into banging so I can suck their life energy and...stuff..." Myla said, her eyes flicking to the side in a moment of fleeting fantasy, "...but I guess you're not a 'guy', strictly speaking, am I right?" she asked, looking back to Tearen's eyes. The ex-enigma shook his head slowly, but his smile remained.

"I'm afraid not, and I have little vitality to spare at the moment. But perhaps an infusion of Omnilium would sate you?" the Prime asked, holding up his right hand. Glimmers of chromatic power began to radiate from the palm of the outstretched limb. Myla stood from the cold floor of the cave and gingerly touched her own clawed hand to his. Being given a shot of raw Omnilium was a rare treatment that very few secondaries in the Underverse could ever dream of being given. The two stood like that for some time, flashes of prismatic power showing just beneath the surface of her fair skin. Only when the succubus' breathing started to become worryingly erratic did Tearen finally pull away. Myla's eyes fluttered open slowly and she sucked in a sharp breath.

"Whoo boy, T. You really know how to-"

"Euhp." Tearen said, holding up a silencing hand.

"I'm just saying, I could really go for a-"

"Ehpepep." Tearen emphasized, waving the silencing hand rapidly. Once again, the Prime turned around and proceeded to shuffle off into the darkness. He was acutely aware of the fact that Myla was still continuing to follow him. Her mind was buzzing with questions and curiosity, as well as a strange emotion that Tearen couldn't quite identify. Something between admiration and...hope? It was an odd concoction, to say the least.

"Is there something else I can do for you? You've been fed." Tearen whispered. He ground his teeth together as he felt her come skipping up to his side, grabbing the hand he had used to transfer the Omnilium. The succubus ran a hand through her long red hair and twirled the end around, giving the shadowy Prime another once-over.

"I dunno I mean...I've never met a guy...thing..." she started. The ex-enigma turned his head and raised a non-existant eyebrow at her. Nervously, she started over.

"I've never met someone who didn't just wanna bump uglies...at all. I mean, you are into women, right?" she asked.

"Irrelevant." Tearen sighed.

"Yeah, see, that's what I'm talking about. Down here in the Underverse, everyone and everything wants to fuck you, metaphorically or physically. Usually both. But you just...gave me something and started walking away. That doesn't happen. Who are you?" Myla said in an excited tone. Tearen didn't respond, but not because he didn't want to. He was having a hard time trying to think of a suitable way to answer her question. The pair made their way over a small precipice in the cave, and the wavering twilight of the Underverse sky could be seen at the end of a long tunnel. With renewed vigor, Tearen hastened towards the exit.

"...at least, that's where I'm coming from. So like, I dunno. I guess I feel like if I hang out with a Prime like you...things might change for me." Myla said, trailing off. This statement put Tearen into a deeply furtive state of mind. Again, he didn't like the idea of having something tying him to the Underverse. Myla didn't immediately seem like a sinister character, and he would hate to leave this place feeling like he had left one person behind in exchange for another. On top of that, though Tearen wasn't sure what kind of change Myla hoped to see in herself, certain instincts compelled him to cultivate this sort of initiative in a person. A sharp gasp brought the Shadow back into the present. He traced the sharp mental spike of Myla's fear to a pile of rubble that had fallen, presumably after he had performed his most destructive ability. Jutting out from the heap of black stone were a myriad of fractured, hairy legs. Tearen smiled, then began to chuckle.

"What. What is it?" Myla asked, holding Tearen's glassy hand more tightly.

"I guess there was a spider after all. Heh." Tearen said, immediately moving on. He didn't bother explaining the source of his mirth to the succubus, but it felt good to laugh for the first time in...

...time didn't really apply to that statement. It simply felt good to laugh. After a short walk, the pair arrived at the mouth of the cave, and the Shadow smiled up at the blasphemous, cracked moons of the bruised red-purple sky.

"So...do we know where we're going or...?" Myla asked, leaning against the rim of the lava tube. The exact details of her outfit weren't pertinent, save for the face that it was terribly impractical for everything except solicitation. Now, in the light of the Underverse however, Tearen could make out the details of her face much better. The petit horns on her head had a metallic blue sheen to them, which must have been some form of lacquer or polish. Her auburn hair flowed to the small of her back, which contrasted sharply against her porcelain skin tone. Though her black makeup was heavy, Tearen could also discern faint scarring around the edges of her eyes, but from what, he couldn't tell.

"I intend to escape the Underverse." Tearen said flatly.

"Ah." Myla responded in a slightly downcast tone.

"But not by catering to Diablo's system. I will seek the Prime known as Tyrael. He must know of another way out." Tearen continued, surveying the horizon, hoping for instinct to give him some form of insight.

"Ah." Myla said, in an emphatically concerned tone. Tagging along with this Tearen guy might not work out so well for her after all. But, then again, maybe should wouldn't need to see him through to the end of his quest in order to get herself in some sort of better circumstance.

"I think I might be able to help with that." the succubus said, perking up. The Shadow turned to look at her, surprised.

"In what way?" he asked. Myla stood up straighter and pressed a thumb to her exposed chest.

"I used to run with one of the Wrecker Gangs out in the Salt Flats. Some of Joe's boys. Before that fucker-"

"Deshawn." Tearen interrupted. Myla gave him a look like he was on very strong drugs.

"...whatever. Before that fucker ate me, we were hunting Tyrael down. Rumor had it he was in the Salt Flats, and Joe wanted him for himself, obviously." Myla said, her toothy grin glistening in the violet light. Tearen nodded slowly. He hadn't heard of this 'Joe' character as of yet, but that was a matter that could be resolved at another time. For now, the Omniverse had delivered almost the perfect lead for his chosen path...which was kind of weird.

"Very well Myla. I think we can indeed be of great use to one-another." Tearen said with a smile. Myla clapped her hands together and began looking at the shattered moons overhead, trying to get a bearing on their location.

"Great, let's head out!" she said with a legitimate levity in her voice.

"Not dressed in that, you're not." Tearen said flatly.

Myla gave him a look like he had sprouted a second head, and it was on very strong drugs.

[Tearen Wover]

A few scant days later (at least as measured by Tearen’s limited capacity for measuring time in this stagnant dimension) the pair arrived at yet another blasted out crag of volcanic rock. The only difference was that this crag happened to be at the lip of a large precipice which descended to a sea of sand and salt, a thousand feet below. In the time they had been traveling together, Tearen had learned many interesting things about Myla the Succubus. Namely in that she wasn’t all that thrilled with her status in the unwritten hierarchy of Underverse demons. This was punctuated by the fact that, when asked again to change her outfit, the woman had opted to go for an almost totally concealing wardrobe of leather and dull red cloth wrapped loosely around her form.

“I want to make my way with my wit, you know? I don’t want to be just another vampire slut.” she said, walking alongside the Shadow and deftly springing over obstacles in her path. Despite the fact that she had promised to stop soliciting the ex-enigma, Tearen still noticed she had a fondness for trying to hold his hand. He didn’t detect any sort of romantic feelings in the gesture, at least not on the surface. It was more so a demonstration that she would stick with Tearen, and being what she was, it was the least sexual thing she knew. The two travelers stopped at the edge of a basalt cliff and looked over the edge at the steep descent.

“Your vehicle is down there?” Tearen said, blinking at the brightness of the corrosive sand. Myla searched the winding dunes for a moment before pointing to a small outcrop of rock that had broken off from the surrounding ridge.

“Right there, to the right of those.” she said. Nodding, Tearen grabbed her waist softly and began to levitate into the air before Myla harshly shoved him off of her.

“You think these things are for show, T? I can fly myself down there, thank you very much.” the succubus said, pointing to her comically undersized wings with her two thumbs. Slightly embarrassed, Tearen apologized for presuming she would be comfortable with his picking her up and the two floated swiftly down to the desert floor.

When they reached the half-buried rocks, Myla eagerly began digging through a sand pile on the far side of the cluster. Curious, Tearen extended his senses into the porous mound of sand and detected the mass of the car Myla had been so eager to return to. Taking in a slow breath, the Shadow felt his way around the sand pile and lifted the silt upwards in a cascade of hissing dust. Beaming, Myla skipped her way over to the rusted-over car and brushed the remaining sand off of the car’s brown surface.

“Fresh as newborn’s blood! I tell ya, this salty shit is great for keeping things safe and sound.” Myla said, opening the driver’s side door and inspecting the interior. Being that this car could be from an unlimited number of realities and universes, there was no sense in trying to identify what it might have been before the armor plating and superchargers had been added, but it had a sleek, polygonal look to it. Tearen walked around to the back of the car as the succubus continued to rummage through it, seeing what might need to be tended. The Shadow stopped in his tracks when he observed a rather unique paint job on the rear fender.

“Why does your bumper have eight vaginas painted on it.” Tearen said in a flat voice. Myla’s wings flapped slightly and the Shadow could detect a combination of embarrassment and excitement within her.

“Oh! Well. You know. Joe and his Warboys only respect cars with a V8, so…”

No more needed to be said.

After some simple repairs, the car (which Myla had named Carpet Cruncher), was cruising across the rough terrain of the Salt Flats, belting out a staccato blast of turbo-charged glee. The noise was deafening, but less throaty than Tearen had been expecting. Myla explained that since Carpet Cruncher only had an I5 engine, she had opted to keep it lightweight and sleek. It generally wasn’t an approach that was appreciated by the bellicose warboys, but seeing as how her main job was as a scout for Immortan Joe’s wrecker gangs, it was generally a good call. Indeed, Tearen was impressed at how the sprightly vehicle was able to skip over the cracked and intermittently soft terrain that may have seen other cars bogged down terribly.

They rode in contented silence for a little while, listening to songs playing from a miraculously functioning speaker system. It struck Tearen that he actually hadn’t heard any music in the Omniverse until now, at all. This thought perturbed him for a multitude of reasons, but that wasn’t important at the moment. The Shadow finally saw an opportunity to ask a question that had been irritating him for some time. Though he had been enjoying the music blaring from the car’s barely functioning stereo system (something about ‘no sleep’ and ‘Brooklyn’), Tearen slowly turned down the volume.

“Myla...how did you end up in Immortan Joe’s gang?”

The succubus immediately tensed up. Tearen didn’t even to feel for her mental emanations to pick up on her discomfort.

“It’s fine, never mind.”

“No...no it’s okay…” Myla said, keeping her eye on the horizon at all times. The portion of the Salt Flats they were currently in was, true to name, exceptionally flat and dry. Unfortunately, this made it very easy for mirages to form on the horizon, which could be used to conceal a pursuit.

“I’m not originally from this part of the Omniverse. I think...I was originally spawned in the Emerald Nightmare. Probably. Either way, that’s where my memory starts and it’s one chunk over from the Salt Flats. I was taken in by a small pack of demons in the Nightmare, but they traded me to Joe when he moved in here.” Myla said, gesturing at the endless sands.

“What need did Joe have of a succubus? From what you’ve indicated, he has no need for alternatives to violence.” Tearen said cautiously.

“I’m a good lay, T. That’s all the reason he needed to fuck any other female demons he came across. Immortan will summon Warboys for himself day in and day out, but I’ve never once heard of him summoning his own fuck-toys. I think he likes to...take things. ‘Specially women.” Myla said, her voice slowly descending into a grumble. The Shadow felt like asking an obvious question, but restrained himself. It was clear that being a succubus didn’t agree with Myla, and pressing the unfortunate implications of her means of sustenance would do neither Tearen nor the woman any good.

“Why let you be part of his war machine then?” Tearen asked, keeping his emerald gaze focused on her.

“Cuz I don’t make babies, T. I’m a succubus, I only take. I don’t give anything, ‘specially not birth. That’s probably the bigger reason Joe let me out of his rape-den, come to think of it.”

“...there are others?”

Myla shot Tearen a sour look.

“Uh, yeah man. Immortan Joe takes and he doesn’t give back. He’s got hundreds of poor fuckers trapped up in his special fortress.” Myla said, waving her hand in the air. It was presumably a gesture dismissive of Immortan Joe’s childishly possessive nature, but the ex-enigma was not entirely sure. A long silence passed between them, and after some time, it dawned on Myla what Tearen might be thinking.

“Oh no. No, no no Tearen. We’re not saving anyone. We’re getting you out of the Underverse. We’re finding Tyrael. Remember?” she barked, wagging a sharp finger in Tearen’s face. The Shadow watched on, non-plussed.

“Why not?”

“Well first because Joe is a tank and he’ll tear you and probably me apart. Second, because you’re not going to make their lives any better by freeing them. What, they gonna get out of the Citadel, then what? Walk around the Salt Flats for a few days before they keel over? They’re safe where they are.” Myla said, shaking her head. Tearen could tell that this was a mantra she told herself more often than she might care to admit. It was almost rehearsed in its assertiveness, and in that ingrained enforcement, Tearen could exploit a weakness. But before he could press the issue, he needed to figure out why he wanted to free Immortan’s prisoners.

It wasn’t as if Myla didn’t have a point; life wouldn’t necessarily be easier for them when they were released. There was a decent chance that many of them would just be captured again, as well. Ironically, it was something that Myla herself had said that helped the ex-enigma realize why he felt compelled to help these people.

“Things might change for me.” Tearen said quietly. The demonic temptress looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.
“What?”

“That’s something you said to me, right after I rescued you. That things might change for you, now that you had an opportunity.” Tearen said softly, his earnest stare boring a hole into Myla’s composure. She looked solemnly at the shimmering horizon. The Shadow continued.

“Right now, in that Citadel, those slaves don’t have an opportunity. I presume they’re kept alive if they’re useful, which might be the most they can hope for in the Underverse...but their fate is also sealed. Nothing is going to change for them. We can give them an opportunity. Forcing someone’s life onto a singular path is tantamount to murder.” Tearen said, concluding his monologue by turning his attention out the passenger side window. Something caught his eye.

“I’ll...think about it.” Myla said after a few minutes. When the Prime failed to respond for an equal number of minutes, the succubus turned to look at him, and saw the glimmer that he was watching. A flickering white dot slipping between distant salt dunes.

“Hmmm…” Myla said, popping open the glove compartment. Several different kinds of sexual aid came tumbling out of the rusted chamber, along with hand-made maps and other survival detritus. For all her dislike of being a succubus, it was clear that Myla still very much enjoyed intimacy in and of itself. It wasn’t as if Tearen disapproved of such a sex-positive attitude, but something about seeing it in someone like Myla made him feel uncomfortable for a reason he couldn’t quite define. Finally, the demon snatched what she had been looking for; a flare gun. She jammed the pyrotechnic pistol out of her window and fired a shot up into the air. A brilliant blue flash added another layer of brightness to the sands around them.

There was no response from the flickering dot. Myla licked her lips and a wicked grin split her face. Adrenaline. Nostalgia. Thirst. Tearen could feel all of them beginning to pump through her mind. The succubus nodded to a bundle of blankets in the cramped rear seats, and Tearen lifted them off to reveal an array of very heavy looking machine guns.

“Can you shoot?” Myla asked as Tearen grabbed a familiar model. Gas-powered firing mechanism with a STANAG magazine. The scope rail was regrettably empty, but it wasn’t as if he needed that kind of thing for a target as large as a car or truck.

“Even better…” Tearen said, pulling back the receiver, “...I can aim.”

[Tearen Wover]

“Alright, let’s take it to ‘em.” Myla said with an impish grin. The succubus cranked the gear shift up to maximum, causing the Carpet Cruncher to belt out a delighted cough of turbo. A spray of white salt fanned out from the rear wheels as the vehicle lurched forwards, the pliant ground of the Salt Flats barely an issue for its all-wheel drive. Myla punched a seam in the roof of the cabin that Tearen hadn’t seen until now, and the top of the car swung open in a shower of rust and sand. The demon pointed upwards, giving Tearen a nod, before whacking him on his hind end. Holding the machine gun aloft in one hand, the Shadow ascended through the gun roof and rested the bipod on the vibrating metal.

A sharp snap to the left of his head alerted him that the glimmering point on the horizon was already firing at them. As tempted as he was to utilize his eldritch powers in this situation, he couldn’t risk blowing his cover. The ex-enigma had already explained to Myla that he wished to keep a low profile, but not the exact reason why. Luckily, it was a common enough request in the Underverse that the succubus hadn’t questioned it. In light of all of this, Tearen simply primed the chamber and unleashed an assertive burst at the enlarging point of light. Once they had closed the difference, the singular beacon split into four sets of headlights.

I’m counting four, Myla

Tearen could hear the woman utter a short laugh at the ex-enigma’s telepathic prompt.

That means there’s eight, T

Where? There’s nowhere for four other vehicles to hide around here.

Right behind the other four, duh!

Tearen squinted at the approaching formation for a moment, and sure enough, once the enemy squad got within small arms range, four more sets of headlights slipped out from behind the original count. A hailstorm of small arms fire peppered the Carpet Cruncher, and one round even struck Tearen’s shoulder. The glancing shot only left a worrying tear in the mottled fabric enshrouding him, however.

We’re gonna go straight through them! That pisser isn’t gonna kill them though, but these WILL!

Tearen reached down to grab whatever it was he presumed Myla was handing to him, and shuddered slightly as something rubbery and phallic was placed into his awaiting hand. The Shadow withdrew his hand from the cabin to find it clutching an electric pink vibrator. Tearen stared at this for a long time, even as bullets continued to ping off the gun roof doors.

Just press the button and let him fly!

Despite her perfectly coherent telepathy, Tearen could hear the woman cackling madly in the cabin. The hail of gunfire intensified as the distance closed, and the ex-enigma couldn’t help but summon a ripple of bent space-time to ward off the bulk of the shots. As they passed between the enemy vehicles, however, the Shadow dutifully pressed the vibrator’s button and tossed it at the car on the left. As he flung the device, small winglets sprung from its root and a blast of fire shot out of it. The ad-hoc rocket whistled gleefully into the cabin of the enemy hulk and a smokey ball of fire bloomed within.

The other seven battle-cars roared on and split into two groups, moving to encircle the Carpet Cruncher. The vehicle stricken with the vibe missile spun to a halt, and several pale demons rolled out of the interior, gagging and waving smoke away from their faces. Tearen was slammed into the side of the gun roof as Myla jerked their car around and skidded to a halt. At first, the Shadow wasn’t sure if the maneuver was some sort of ploy, but when the succubus killed the engine, he knew something was wrong.

“Put your hands up!” Myla said, practically screaming. The other marauding vehicles roared hungrily, driving in a circle around them. Tearen could hear the predatory thoughts drifting over the psychic medium…

Fresh meat…

Nice car…

A gift for the Immortan…

Eight pussies...wait…

With the utterance of this final thought, the largest car in the enemy group shot a blast of three flares into the air; one green and two red. Gradually, the other vehicles came to a stop and their drivers dismounted. Likewise, Tearen and Myla exited the Carpet Cruncher, but kept their hands in the air as a precautionary measure. The driver of the lifted war-truck came hustling over to the travelling pair. He wore no shirt, and for the most part, appeared to be human. His skin was, however, an alabaster white like Myla’s, and his forehead was painted with black engine oil.

“That decal on the fender...Myla, issat you?” the (presumably) demon asked in an out of breath pant. Myla wordlessly flashed her breasts at him.

“It is Myla! ‘Sgotta be! Dat guy with her tossed one of her buzz bombs into our hack!” said one of the demons from the vehicle that Tearen had attacked with the improvised rocket. The lead driver let out a long, exaggerated laugh and hoisted the succubus up by the hips, spinning her around.

“Hahaaa! Old Myla the Dick Slayer! By Joe, we figured you’d been turned into rainbows by now!”

At this point, almost all of the War Boys had exited their vehicles and were milling around the Carpet Cruncher, patting it on the hood affectionately. Tearen was pretty surprised at the reception the succubus was getting. For all her resentment of Immortan Joe, the honest raport that these other demons felt for her was a tad shocking.

“Hello to you too Schemadness. Yeah, a Devourer got me. I tried to signal friendly but you dry-panned fucks didn’t signal back!” Myla said, graciously displaying her bare chest to any of the war band who had missed it. Tearen tilted his head curiously. These past few days she had seemed to enjoy not exhibiting or using her body for the benefit of others. Now that she was back in familiar company, it appeared that she was already regressing to old habits. It was a common enough phenomenon among humans to acquiesce to the unspoken expectations of peers, but somehow, the ex-enigma had expected more from Myla. After all, this was the woman who as of the previous morning had been explaining how exciting it was not to have to worry about shaving for the first time in her life.

“Yeah we saw the single blue shot, but that signals been out of cycle for...what?” the lead rider said, looking back at the rest of the War Boys. He got mixed answers, but the common consensus that it was a really long time.

“...’bout a year I ‘spose.” he concluded with a shrug. Myla let out a small noise of comprehension before covering herself back up and taking a seat on the salted ground. Despite his somewhat thick sense of social countenance, Schemadness realized that he had hit a soft spot on the succubus.

“Aw now Myla, don’t fret. Yer back with the Boys now, eh? By the way…” Schemadness said, nodding sharply at Tearen. The rest of the marauders turned to stare at the silent man shrouded in brown robes.

“A friend. He saved me from the Devourer. He uh…” Myla said softly looking over her shoulder at the Prime.

“...wants to see if he can work for Joe.” she concluded with a forced smile. Schemadness returned the smile, but his grin was entirely honest.

“Sure thing! Sure thing, yeah! We’re due back to the Citadel anyways. We were tasked with bringing back cars or bodies, and imagine our luck finding both!” the leader said, standing up with Myla and putting an arm around her shoulders.

“We’ll camp here for tonight and be back in the garage by noon tomorrow. Aw geez, Joe is gonna bust a washer when he sees you again!”
Tearen could hear the silent revulsion in Myla’s thoughts. Still, he needed to play things close to the chest at the moment, and could only watch as Schemadness walked the succubus back to his command truck.

…

At some point during the night, Tearen was awoken by the soft sound of Myla slinking into the front seat of the Carpet Cruncher. The Prime had been sleeping in the poor excuse for a back row of seats. The cabin was illuminated by the sharp glow of his green eyes, flickering as Tearen blinked twice. Night was disorienting in the Underverse, because even though the sky stayed mostly the same shade of red-purple, the ambient light levels did indeed go down sharply. In the black, blasted landscape of the Central Hellscape, it usually wasn’t terribly evident. Out here in the pure white sands of the Salt Flats, however, the difference was quite striking.

Tearen hadn’t seen much of the succubus after the initial ceasefire. The Shadow had stayed with the car for most of the day, seeing what amount of the light skirmish damage could be attended to. In ideal circumstances, he would have just used Omnilium to repair the vehicle back to a state of perfection that many of these War Boys could hardly conceive of. Indeed, several of them had stopped by to try and chat, but Tearen usually just pantomimed that he was mute when they did. Despite his inherent curiosity, it was just better this way. The Prime was brought back to the present as Myla let out a shaky sigh.

“Are you alright? Do you need some energy?” Tearen asked, sitting upright. Myla shook her head.

“No, no thanks I...already ate.”

Tearen paused for a moment, then reached out to clasp her hand. The succubus flinched at first, then relaxed.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, T. It’s just...what I am.” Myla said softly. She allowed herself just a few seconds of self-pity before taking a deep breath.

“No, I’m here because I got us some information. I asked Schemadness how the hunt for Tyrael was going. He was kind of clammy about it at first, but after…” Myla trailed off, trying to find a euphemism that would feel safe for both of them.

“...dinner.” Tearen offered.

“Yeah, dinner. After dinner he told me.” Myla said flatly. It was easy to sense the confusion and panic inside of Myla’s thoughts. She was truly an emotional creature, and Tearen wondered if this was, perhaps, what made her an anomaly among succubi. Still, she was dragging this out pretty hard, it was just hurting her.

“Come on, Myla.” Tearen said in his hoarse whisper.

“Yeah yeah. Joe has Tyrael. At the Citadel.”

Tearen didn’t say anything for a long time.

“If you just point me in the right direction…” he started, but Myla cut him off.

“Opportunity, Tearen. I said I’d think about it and I thought about it. We’re going to give those slaves an opportunity. And...and...maybe you’re a Prime so you’ll be fine in the end and maybe I won’t, but maybe this is my opportunity to…” Myla stumbled over her words as tears began to form in her eyes. The Shadow could tell that this was the tip of a very large iceberg that would have to be thawed over the course of a long relationship. The horrors she had been subjected to at the hands of Joe may never be healed, but Tearen did help that he could eventually help her learn to move past them.

But that would never happen in the Underverse.

“Shh, it’s okay Myla. I swear on everything I’m worth, I’ll bring you back with me.” Tearen said softly.

“How?” she asked in a tone filled with more annoyance than confusion.

“It’s a bit...complicated.”

“Try me.”

...and so Tearen and Myla talked. For a long time they conversed, and sometimes Myla cried. Sometimes Tearen felt like crying, but his alien physiology forbade it. He explained how, even though he couldn’t bring her body with him, he had a way of bringing her mind. It would, however, require him to absorb her component Omnilium, to make sure no information was lost. He warned her, promised her, of pain for a short time...but he also promised her freedom from this life, and a chance to start completely over. By the time they finished talking, Tearen could feel a rekindled warmth in her chest.

“This...this means everything to me, T. Really. We can do this, I know we can.” Myla said as she slipped out of the Carpet Cruncher. The succubus had promised Schemadness that she would spend the night with him, but that she had to go check to see if Tearen was alright. It was an easy sell, since most of the war band was now under the impression that the mysterious cloaked figure was a tad slow. That was fine, by Tearen’s opinion. Before she left, though, Myla did say one thing that would haunt the Shadow for the rest of the night.

“Before I shack up, do you need anything? We’ve got lots of supplies in the Command Truck. I can have a weirdling bring something out to you.”

Weirdling. The word instantly brought back memories of pain and darkness that Tearen thought he would never have to face again. What were weirdlings doing out here? And how was it that they were common knowledge? Luckily for him, Myla didn’t pick up on the loss of composure within the all-consuming darkness of the Salt Flats night.

“No...no I’ll be alright. Thank you.”



Sleep did not come.

[Tearen Wover]

The next day of travel was a long one.

Myla and Tearen drove in relative silence, aside from when the Shadow had to help her navigate more difficult terrain. The succubus was worried. She wasn’t sure if she had said something the night prior that had upset the Prime or if he was just plotting something in that inscrutable head of his. Whatever the problem was, it seemed as though that Tearen immediately forgot about it when the Citadel came into view.

It was a huge structure, jutting up out of the flat, barren sand like sandstone fang. Its jagged sides were emblazoned with the image of giant, screaming skulls, and chugging chimneys poked out of the side of the Citadel at odd angles and intervals. There was a large sort of gulley that led into the heart of the fortress itself, and after signaling their entry with a patterned blast of horns, a rusted steel gate screeched open to allow them ingress.

The small band of rugged vehicles, dressed in corroded armor and improvised guns of all kinds, thundered into the ochre depths of the Citadel, the thrum of their engines reverberating in an otherworldly manner off the cathedral-esque walls of what Myla called the ‘Garage’. It was a cavernous space, easily one-hundred meters square. Vehicles in repair and under construction populated each bay, and a dozen War Boys crawled over each. Blasts of strobing light heralded the sparking of acetylene torches, and echoing shouts blended together to form a chorus of metal and machinery just as sublime as any song that had been sung by the Heart Queen. Tearen could even feel Myla’s mind overcome with a sense of nostalgia.

“Second thoughts, Myla?” Tearen murmured as he looked around the buzzing Garage with vested curiosity. Squat, pale shapes lingered in the shadows, leering at the War Group as they rolled past. Weirdlings infested the bowels of this city too...though it seemed to the Shadow that these creatures were more purpose built, as opposed to the failed experiments of Grooota. As they pulled into a vacant service bay, Tearen figured now was as good a time as any to talk to Myla about what had been bothering him.

“Myla...the Weirdlings…” Tearen said, looking at her eyes earnestly. Myla waved her hand in a manner that suggested harmlessness.

“Ah don’t worry about them, they just help the black-thumbs with their wrench-”

“I know what Weirdlings are. I want to know where they come from.” the Shadow insisted, telekinetically yanking the succubus’ door shut as she tried to push it open. Myla raised an eyebrow at the ex-enigma, but relented.

“We trade them from some city in the Hellscape. Not sure for what, but hey, they’ve got entire toolkits built into them and they’re more mobile than robots, so…”

Tearen nodded solemnly.

“Yes, their biological component...Grooota creates Weirdlings from scrap that he gathers from other parts of the Underverse. What did you say happened to the slaves here when Immortan Joe was done with them?”

Myla blinked.

“Uh...I dunno, they just kind of disappear-No! You don’t think Joe gets them turned into…” Myla’s speech faltered as a mech-weirdling scuttled up to the hood of the Carpet Cruncher to inspect any problems under the hood. Its lifeless red eyes scanned the engine block, and an array of tools slithered out from a heavy case that was grafted to its skinny back. An obfuscating hood covered the creature’s face.

“I would be surprised if that wasn’t the case.” Tearen said solemnly. He thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t think these slaves are ‘safe’ here at all.”

WHAM.

Both travelers jumped as Schemadness whacked a heavy hand on the roof of the Carpet Cruncher, his toothy smile gleaming in the flickering torchlight.

“C’mon you lovebirds! Joe wants to meet the full-life.” the senior War Boy grunted, crossing his arms over his bare chest. It seemed as though he wasn’t going to leave them alone, so Myla and Tearen begrudgingly exited the vehicle. They followed Schemadness through the winding tunnels of the Citadel, past the medical and living quarters and up a spiraling staircase. The climb was long, but after a few minutes, the three of them arrived on a large balcony overlooking the Garage. A chrome railing adorned the edge of the overhang, and ornate furniture festooned with the screaming skull symbol was arrayed around the edge. Of all things, Tearen was bewildered to see an array of potted flowers and greenery being delicately tended to by younger slaves. The thought of these children being turned into the wretch currently clambering over the Carpet Cruncher cause Tearen to ball his fists so hard it almost cracked his skin.

Standing in the middle of this was a hulking man, covered in transparent armor molded to look like rippling muscle. Off-white cloth hung like robes from his waste, and a hissing respirator bag rose and fell on his shoulders. As this man turned around, Tearen observed the horse-tooth mask, the mane of white hair, and the eyes so filled with evil that they had turned almost a solid yellow-black.

“Myla…” Immortan Joe said, taking a few slow steps forward, a gloved hand reaching out to caress her cheek. His voice was low and rumbling, much like a V8 engine in and of itself. The succubus smiled and licked one of the powdery fingers as it retreated, despite the inner revulsion that the succubus felt at the act.

“...It is good to see you free from that horror. I regret putting you in its path. And you…” Immortan Joe said, turning to Tearen. The Prime did his best to remain still, holding his green gaze as Joe bore down on him. The legendary demon lord placed a heavy hand on Tearen’s enshrouded shoulder.

“I have you to thank for freeing her. You have my gratitude. Now…” Joe said with a malicious twinkle in his eye. It only dawned on Tearen that he was in trouble a split second before Joe gripped the younger Prime by the shoulder and flung the Shadow forcefully into the left-hand wall. There was a momentous boom as shards of sandstone flew out from the impact, and a cloud of dust billowed forth. Both Myla and Schemadness jumped at this sudden violence, and watched in awe as Joe walked over to where the dazed Tearen was slowly dragging himself away from the wall.

Immortan Joe grabbed the back of Tearen’s cloak and ripped it clear from his obsidian body, revealing the gleaming mark of Grooota that had been singed on the ex-enigma’s back. As he read the orange mark, Joe let out a low, guttural laugh.

“Well boys, is this your man?” Joe called aloud, grasping Tearen by the neck. The Shadow’s head lolled around loosely as he tried to get a bearing on what was happening. The Prime was able to make out the dim outlines of Klicka, Usshot and Gamil, of all people, approaching from a small room that had been behind them. Tearen dimly wondered how he hadn’t been able to detect these three very unique demonic minds before now. Joe must have had some sort of way to suppress his telepathic senses.

The ex-enigma shook his head, trying to bring his focus back on the moment. Gamil withdrew a collar from inside this armor; Tearen recognized it as the same kind of device used to suppress the powers of the contestants from the first Dante’s Abyss. Suddenly, Joe felt his grip on this new Prime beginning to slip, and the Immortan watched as Tearen’s form began to melt away into nothingness.

“Not that easily.” Joe said, and allowed his own left arm to dissolve into an incorporeal state. The demon lord grabbed Tearen’s ankle just as he started to float away and slammed the Shadow’s entire body into the ground. There was a sharp clink as the collar was snapped around Tearen’s neck, and he felt his body become heavy again. A heavy foot was driven into his back (Klicka’s by the feel of it), and the Prime felt himself pinned down. Once he was satisfied that the situation was under control, Joe stepped back and began gleefully circling the trapped Shadow.

“These boys from Grooota showed up just a few days ago, saying that a tracking signal from one of their branded Gladiators was in the area. A Prime, of all things. I heard a lot about you, but mostly about your green eyes and ratty robes.” Joe said in a gloating voice. Usshot hauled Tearen to his feet, and the Shadow glared back at the Immortan with a dirty look. The demon lord waved his finger at Tearen.

“The War Boys say you’ve gotten attached to Myla.” The Immortan said, drawing one of the chrome revolvers on his hip. He leveled it at the succubus with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“You’ll go quietly with your Masters, or I’ll see to it that she earns a new hole to fuck.”

Tearen shot a forlorn look at Myla, but the clever succubus just winked at her Prime friend.

We’re not licked yet, T.

“Sorry old boy, we tried to play nice.” Gamil sighed, clamping a single, massive hand around Tearen’s wrists. The hulking Knight of Hatred nodded to Klicka and Usshot, and the three demons of Grooota began descending the long staircase again. As they walked away, Tearen could hear Immortan Joe murmuring to Schemadness.

“Get a truck ready for them with this month’s rejects packed in the back.”

A few moments, the Shadow had been practically vibrating with anger, but after Myla’s reassurance that the situation was still salvageable, Tearen’s breathing had slowed. Granted, she hadn’t exactly given him a specific plan, but it was just sort of implicit that he would figure something out. Likewise, Tearen was sure that Myla was trying to find opportunities as well. The key mistake that all of these demons was make was, of course, that raw power was neither Tearen nor Myla’s greatest asset.

As such, as they reached the bottom of the staircase, waiting for the truck, Tearen waited a few moments before clearing his throat.

“So, Gamil. You’ve guys been here a few days. Did Immortan Joe tell you?” the Prime asked in a droll tone. Luckily, the hulking skeleton hadn’t known Tearen long enough to be aware of his dangerous wit.

“Tell us what?”

“About Tyrael.” the Prime said in a tone that belied false surprise. Gamil turned to look down at the comparatively smaller man.

“What about him?”

“He’s here.” Tearen said, nodding to the ground. “He’s here in the Citadel. Joe has him.”

Gamil thought about this for a long time. He was perfectly aware that Tearen could have been bluffing, but the was almost too incredible to be true. Something so unbelievable would hardly ever be used for a lie, so perhaps there was some truth to what this Prime was saying.

“Interesting. I will pass it on to Grooota when we return. Perhaps this honesty will forestall a harsher judgement-”

“Prolly not.” Klicka said with a sharp cackle. Gamil was about to chastise the insectoid demon for his interjection, but then nodded his head slowly. The bug had a point. As the truck loaded with sick and dying slaves was pulled alongside the curb, the four Underverse residents clambered into the cab. Only Tearen buckled his seatbelt.

“What does your sickle think? Tyrael is a heck of a Prime. I bet it’s real thirsty after that stunt you pulled in the arena.” Tearen said as Usshot started the car. Gamil’s hulking mass barely fit inside even this modified cab, so it was easy to notice when the giant skeleton began restlessly tapping the hilt of his weapon.

“I mean, the sickle is the one with the power right? You’re just a big guy who can carry it, right? That’s why Ilthiax has such fond memories of you. That was all before you found that thing and sucked people’s anger out of their-”

“ENOUGH!” Gamil roared. In one crushing swipe, he beheaded Klicka and Usshot, along with cutting the top half of the cabin free from its base. Tearen’s eyes widened, but otherwise his expression stayed flat as he looked up at the elderly warrior.

“No one…” Gamil breathed, “...knows that secret. What did Ilthiax tell you?” Gamil growled, his eyeless faceplate leering down at Tearen. Most of the War Boys at their location had noticed the outburst and were gathering around to watch as blood spurted from the neck stumps of Usshot and Klicka. Gamil clutched the haft of the odd reverse-sickle tightly and mumbled in a resentful tone.

“She hungers...she hungers deeply for the one called Tyrael. I...she is an animal. I must obey. I obey, my love.” Gamils said, stroking the edge of the sickle with a nervous finger. This was even better than Tearen had hoped.

“You wanna make a plan?” the ex-enigma asked in an upbeat voice.

“...absolutely, my little black chum.” Gamil said as he tried to regain som composure over the character he portrayed. Tearen wondered about what Myla was doing in that moment, but for now, they had to distract the gathering throng of War Boys around the transport truck...

[Tearen Wover]

“Gamil. Your sickle, can it channel hatred outwards as well as inwards?” Tearen asked, standing up in the shredded cab as the curious War Boys clamored and murmured at the senseless damage to the truck they had loaned the visitors from Grooota. The hulking, skeletal warrior glanced down at the ex-enigma with a worried stare.
 
“Yes, but I protest such action on two level,” The Knight of Hatred said, shoving a ranting and raving half-lifer away from him, “First, my goal here is to gain power, not spend it. Second, enraging these dregs shall have little effect; they already thrive on fury.”
 
Tearen nodded, then pointed out one of the scuttling Weirdlings that was still picking at a nearby vehicle.
 
“Those weirdlings, I learned that they are curiously receptive to psychic commands. It won’t take much. I suspect-“ Tearen was cut off as a booming voice came roaring down from overhead. It was Immortan Joe, asking just what in the blazes was going on. Time was growing short.
 
“Never mind suspect; I know that giving those weirdlings just a taste of hatred will spur them into a destructive frenzy. At least enough to distract these interlopers.” The Shadow said, gesturing to the pale warriors around them. Tearen had been working to prevent them from fully processing the scenario by distorting their perception of the flow of time, but this nuanced technique was not sustainable for long. This made it all the more alarming when Gamil took his sweet time in mulling Tearen’s suggestion over. Naturally, it could have been a ploy to get the Knight of Hatred to spend some of his stored power; Tearen could understand his suspicion. Still, time was of the essence.
 
“Gamil!” Tearen shouted, in as hoarse a wheeze as his broken voice would let him. The skeletal hulk let out an uncomfortable grunt before hoisting the inverted sickle overhead and letting a network of azure, energetic streamers to spill out of it. These filaments of emotional outrage wound there way around the heads of the collected weirdlings within the Garage. The effect was immediate. The pre-programmed monstrosities suddenly remembered a flicker of their past humanity, however single-minded it might have been. Immediately, the augmented bodies roared into a tantrum of ripped metal and screeching pain. Vehicles and machinery everwhere began to fly apart as the suddenly savage servitors lost any semblance of control. As predicted, the war boys completely forgot about the zone of temporal confusion that sat before them and rushed to tend to their machines.
 
“Come on!” the ex-enigma coughed, tugging on Gamil’s shoulder as he scampered over the back of the halved driver’s cab. Tearen was aware he was treading on the still-breathing bodies of expended slaves as he did so, but there was only so much he could do at this juncture. A loud thundering sound signaled to the Shadow that the Knight was indeed following close behind. Good.
The Shadow drew in a deep breath before simultaneously shifting into his avian body, which itself dissolved into a cloud of wispy, black smog. The Knight of Hatred cursed loudly as the ex-enigma slipped through a wall directly ahead of them and into the dark innards of the Citadel. There was certainly an advantage in never having demonstrated the extent of his powers to Gamil.
 
The prudent action at this juncture would have been to find Tyrael as quickly as possible, but as the crow-bodied Prime slipped through the layers of the Citadel like a speeding arrow, he quickly became aware of a hive of minds around him on all sides. The phantom bird alighted on a railing within one of the darkened rooms and extended his awareness, revealing that slumbering slaves surrounded him on all sides. Indecision plagued him only for a moment, before the wrought-iron door of this particular room blew off its hinges. The tremendous bang woke everyone within the malodorous darkness at once, and a quick telepathic urging had them on their feet in seconds.
 
Freedom! You are free! Release the others as you can, and flee!
 
Thus, a chain reaction was initiated within the bowels of the Citadel. Tearen took it on good faith that at least some of these poor souls would have the nobility to liberate their brethren. For good measure, the psychic crow demolished a few more holding pens, causing a near constant flow of unwashed bodies to stream down the hallways. Those token few warboys who deigned to try and stop the stampede were duly trampled. None of the frantic escapees dared question who their benefactor was, nor should they; there was only one priority on their minds right now, and that suited the Shadow just fine. The perched Prime watched the slaves file past, scanning their minds for cursory snippets that might lead him to Tyrael. There wasn’t much in the way of specifics; apparently the Immortan had kept the angel’s presence here a secret. A few repeated instances of the thought ‘treasure room’ piqued Tearen’s interest, however. The Prime reached out with his thoughts, seeking the only friendly mental signature in the immense building. Tearen almost gave up after a few minutes of searching, but finally found his friend.
 
Myla. Treasure room. Location?
 
A few moments passed.
 
Meet me on balcony. Still alive by the way, thanks for asking.
 
Tearen chose to ignore the ribbing for the time being.
 
Rendezvous in two minutes.
 
The crow shot off like a rocket, and exactly two minutes later, alighted on the railing of the sandstone balcony. The scene below was absolute chaos, with hordes of filthy, pale slaves streaming past the overwhelmed War Boys, who couldn’t decide between containing the jailbreak or trying to neutralize the rampaging weirdlings. Several moments passed, and Tearen began to grow worried that something had happened to Myla, but was reassured as the succubus slinked onto the lushly decorated reception area with a grin. Tearen shifted back into his hooded, burlap robes in a whorl of black smog. Myla jogged up to greet him with a big hug before immediately taking the ex-enigma by the hand and dragging him towards a staircase directly opposite of the balcony railing.
 
“There’s only one thing Joe considers his ‘treasures’; concubines and stuff. But, it’s the most secure place in the Citadel, so it would be the first place to look.” Myla said in an excited, hushed voice. As they ascended the spiraled, sandstone steps, the intrepid pair stepped over the bleeding, emaciated body of Immortan Joe’s lieutenant, Schemadness. Myla did not mention the corpse directly.
 
“I wasn’t able to find anyone with the information to the entrance code, but I’m guessing you’ve got some fancy Prime way of getting inside…” Myla said as they arrived at a small room that was built almost like a chapel. More plants and water features decorated the small room, and an immense vault door set into the wall. Tearen took a few steps forward, and touched an incorporeal hand to the heavy black metal. Much to his surprise, it sunk straight through the material, much like any other solid obstacle. The Prime had fully expected the vault to be constructed of some ghost-proof admixture of arcane metals, but evidently Joe was more concerned with keeping his treasures from getting out, rather than preventing ingress. The Shadow chuckled. Hubris never ceased to be useful. His levity was cut short as he remembered a promise, and he turned around with a grave expression on his glass face.
 
“Myla, we may not get another opportunity. Now would be a good time for me to absorb you.” Tearen said in a flat tone. He had been trying to think of gentler ways to put this morbid reality, but had devised none. Now was not the time for beating around the bush. Myla, understandably, balked slightly.
 
“I…dunno T. This is still kind of sudden and-“ the succubus was cut off as the sound of shouting came bouncing up the spiral staircase. The unmistakable growl of Immortan Joe’s filtered voice barked in indistinct rage, heralding his advance. Myla shoved Tearen away from her.
 
“Go! Find the angel. I’ll stall them.” She said, looking at the landing of the staircase. A flash of imminent events ran through Tearen’s mind as she said this. There was much that he could say to forestall the inevitable, but he had to remember his priorities.
 
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and squeezed her hand before slipping through the black metal of the vault door. The inside of the Vault was even more lavish than the reception room. If Tearen didn’t know better, he would assume he wasn’t even in the Underverse, rather, the most palatial summit of Nippur. The ethereal, beautiful creatures within looked up with sleepy eyes as the foreboding black cloud drifted through the metal door. Their doe-like gazes widened with adrenaline as it dawned on them what was happening.
 
“He’s not a War Boy!”
 
“I can smell it! Prime! He’s a Prime!”
 
“Did Myla send you? She said she’d send someone!”
 
“Please! Please!”
 
Their frenzy was so great that Tearen had to slow the local flow of time and try to acquire his objective. Nearly everything in the room was of polished silver or red velvet, so the large, blinking slab of carbon hanging on the wall stood out like…well…an angel in hell. The Shadow had heard of this process when he had been reading about legal repercussions of resisting the empire. Carbonite; a process of indefinitely preserving living biomass, or anything else, for that matter.
 
Much like the phantom he was, the Shadow brushed past the clawing desperation of Joe’s unwilling concubines. He swept towards the control panel of the preservation unit, and frowned. The angel’s face was stoic and grave, even in the black, gleaming sheen of the carbon coating. There was no time to try and analyze the mechanical structure of the device. The only thing Tearen could think of was to try and reach into Tyrael’s mind, and awaken the Prime within. Surely, once he was awakened from his hibernation, the most legendary warrior in the Omniverse would have the strength to break free from this all-encompassing bondage.
 
The ex-enigma was halfway through this process when the door to the vault slammed open. Tearen managed to glance around just in time to see Myla stagger through the metal-coated passageway, a bloody hand covering her gut. Her eyes went unfocused, and the succubus collapsed to the floor, uttering only a weak gurgle. The Shadow’s eyes went wide, despite having already seen these events a few moments prior. Tearen rushed to her side as Immortan Joe stomped into the vault, along with Gamil, Knight of Hatred.
 
Immortan Joe started to gloat about how Tearen had been so cocky as to think that he himself could not be double-crossed, and how eternities of agony were in store for him. The Shadow didn’t really pay attention. His focus was on Myla, and her ebbing life. She was fading too fast; he wouldn’t be able to absorb her living Omnilium fast enough to create a perfect replica of her body. Droplets of rainbow brilliance drifted up through her face as Tearen did what he could to salvage her darkening mind. Once she had gone completely, only then did the Prime rise to his feet and face his malefactors.
 
“…and so, it comes to this, your quest failing with victory just out of reach.” Joe said, finishing an apparent diatribe. The ex-enigma’s viridian glare flicked back and forth between the face of Gamil and Joe, anger swelling in his gut. He was not beaten yet; not by a long shot. The Shadow held out an arm and called the halberd, Enigma, to his hands in a flash of pinkish light. When next he looked at Immortan Joe, however, the armored geriatric warlord’s eyes were not fixed on Tearen. The escapee Prime followed the demon lord’s gaze to Tyrael’s makeshift sarcophagus, to see large tendrils of white power weaving their way out of the black stone.
 
Immortan Joe was only able to manage a curtailed ‘No…!’ before a streak of holy power burst out of the carbonite and slammed fully into the warlord’s pale bulk. The entangled pair of legendary Primes crashed through the far wall of the adjoining lobby, and from the sounds of it, several walls after that. This just left Gamil and Tearen standing alone in the treasure vault as the last of Immortan’s sex slaves scrambled past the dusty bulk of the Knight.
 
“I should thank you…” Tearen said, bringing the head of Enigma to bear against the colossal grave knight. “It’s only thanks to you that I was able to get this far.” Gamil sneered at the comparatively miniature Prime.
 
“There’s only one thing I want from you, old boy.”
 
Tearen offered a malicious grin in return.
 
“I know.”

[Tearen Wover]

The two gladiators circled one another, as if they were resuming their battle in Azgradurg right where it had left off. The difference was, this time, was that each combatant was a little better educated on his opponent. As such, Gamil was not remotely surprised when, instead of rushing forward to lock blades with him, Tearen leapt straight up into the air, shattering straight through the polished glass overhead. It was an unspoken challenge, and the Knight of Hatred sneered up at the Prime as shards of glass plinked off his calcified features.
 
Blue fire overtook the bony hulk’s body, pouring out of the joints and seams of his armor like azure verniers. With a sharp grunt, Gamil followed his quarry, jumping up through the glass ceiling in the same manner. Tearen did not even give the Knight a moment to gain his bearings on the windy rooftop before burrowing the razor point of Enigma in Gamil’s back. Nothing but droplets of dust came from the wound as the towering brute wheeled around, blindly bringing his sickle down on where he assumed Tearen to be. The reversed blade of the strange implement bit hard into the soft sandstone frame of the roof. With a low growl, Gamil looked around before spotting the ex-enigma hovering directly above him, surrounded by a flock of small, black prisms.
 
“You know Gamil, we don’t have to do this. I know your past…your human past. You fought for the betterment of mankind, once.” Tearen said in a calm voice. Gamil barked out a harsh laugh before swiping at the Shadow with his weapon. A tendril of hateful blue energy lashed out from the tip of the sickle and whipped itself around Tearen’s leg. The Knight of Hatred followed through on his swing and slammed the Prime onto a flat section of roof.
 
“My good man…” Gamil growled, advancing under a hail of energetic bolts from the Aspects. Tearen picked himself up out of the dirt just in time for the Knight of Hatred to surge forwards in an unexpected burst of speed. The immense gladiator grapped the Shadow by the shoulder and swung to slam him back into the roof, but Tearen turned into a smokey haze just in time to phase straight through the thick rock. The Shadow found himself hanging in the air, far above the floor of the Garage. His keen, viridian eyes spotted an immense scuffle far below, in the main avenue between the repair bays. Immortan Joe and Tyrael were battling fiercely, kicking up a cloud of flashing and swirling dust. Slaves, Weirdlings and War Boys raged around them. It was pure chaos.
 
A curtailed smashing sound from behind his head was all the warning Tearen got before Gamil came crashing through the roof, right below where he had intended to bury the Prime. This time, his left hand was veiled in flickering cyan fire, and the single-minded Knight grabbed the ex-enigma’s incorporeal body in a vice grip. The grappling pair plummeted towards the mosh pit far below; a sequence that was extended for the ex-enigma thanks to his ability to decelerate local time. As he and Gamil tumbled end over end in slow motion, Tearen spotted that Immortan had distanced himself from Tyrael, and was pointing one of his revolvers at the momentarily off-guard angel. Calculations were processed, and a solution was ascertained.
 
Time resumed its normal flow, and as it did so, Tearen grabbed and pawed at the Knight’s helmet, trying to pry it free from the emaciated warrior’s face. Gamil struggled, but was unwilling to drop his sickle to pull the Prime’s grasping hands. Finally, the Shadow tore the helmet free, revealing old, tired eyes. For a split moment, Tearen empathized with those eyes. They held within them regret and fatigue, and at the same time, hatred. Not just of Tearen, or even himself, but everything. Gamil was a misanthrope, through and through. It didn’t synch up with Ilthiax’s rosy memories of the ancient psion.
 
But enough of that. For a fleeting moment, Tearen reached into the depths of his mind, conjuring the dark Enigma that he had been burying for weeks now. A stream of uninhibited knowledge screamed into Gamil’s eyes, causing the elder Knight to shout in surprise and pain. It was all the Shadow needed to teleport out of the gladiator’s grip, and bounce him off an explosive knot of space-time for good measure.
 
…
 
Immortan Joe sneered down at Tyrael, who panted heavily in the dirt before him. Being cooped up in the carbonite for months had certainly taken its toll, and a drowsy angel was no match for a demon lord in top form. The warlord cocked the hammer on his revolver and smiled at the legendary angel with a glint in his eyes.
 
“Hard luck, mate.” Joe gloated, his horse-tooth respirator half-garbling his harsh words. Tyrael glanced up just in time to see the meteoric form of Gamil careening towards the warlord, and smiled. The Immortan didn’t even have time to react before he was nailed into the gravel by Gamil’s skeletal bulk. Tyrael stood up and brushed off the robes that covered his gilded armor.
 
“Very hard indeed.” The angel mumbled. He quirked an eyebrow as the ambient dust seemed to clump and grind together as the ground around the temporarily downed pair rumbled with a gravitational burst. Lances of pure white light stitched searing scars down Gamil and Joe’s hides, and Tyrael looked up to regard the descending form of Tearen.
 
“I suppose I have you to thank for my liberation.” The angel said in a calm tone, remaining still as the other Prime approached. His nearly clairvoyant senses assuaged any doubt of Tearen’s intentions as the Shadow summoned a bolus of Omnilium to tend to Tyrael’s wounds and fatigue. Tearen uttered a short scoff.
 
“Don’t be too grateful. I’m here for a reason.” The ex-enigma muttered before taking a step back. The legendary seraphim offered a weary nod.
 
“I had thought as m-“
 
Tearen did not hear the conclusion of his ally’s sentence, as he suddenly found himself rammed up against the grill of an immense, modified monster truck; the Gigahorse. It didn’t take extrasensory perception to tell that Immortan Joe was at the wheel. The Prime watched in stunned dismay at a repair bay wall that was rapidly approaching, and hissed a sharp cry of pain as the Gigahorse rammed straight through the sheet metal. The Shadow was flung clear of the spiked grillplate as the truck came to an abrupt stop. The door of the car in the repair bay buckled inwards from Tearen’s impact, and the Weirdling that had been tearing the vehicle apart was instantly crushed.
 
The Prime looked around blearily before recognizing the car he had just smashed. It was the Carpet Cruncher. The fire and dust were too thick to see what was coming, but Tearen could hear the twin engines of the Gigahorse revolving in preparation for a follow-through attack. With a grunt, the ex-enigma thrust an arm through the driver-side window of the Carpet Cruncher and felt around for one of Myla’s improvised missiles. Tearen finally grabbed a bright blue vibrator and wiped away the haze of dust with a telekinetic swipe.
 
Joe’s eyes burned fiercely from the cockpit of the Gigahorse as he kicked the gearshift into overdrive. Those terrible, yellow pits of greed widened as he saw Tearen cock his arm back, buzz bomb clasped firmly in his right hand. The Prime depressed the activation button and hurled the warhead at the monster truck as hard as he could…
 
…except the tossed implement was not a warhead. The electric blue phallus flew true and smacked Immortan Joe square in the face before bouncing harmlessly down to the dirt floor.
 
No one wanted to comment on it.
 
Luckily, Tyrael was upon the Gigahorse in the next instant, having gotten a moment to summon his beloved blade; the Holy Sword, El’Druin. On gleaming wings, the angel soared through the air and drove the tip of the blade straight between the inline V8 engine block, severing the drive shaft between the dual engines. There came a cacophonous clanking and grinding before Tyrael and Immortan both dove clear of the humungous rig. Tearen left it to the two ultimate Primes to sort out; now he had an opportunity to sort out the other component of this battle. Silent as a shadow, a crow flittered through the rolling smoke of the aftermath before coming to perch on the seared breastplate of Gamil. The skeletal hulk had never recovered after his unexpected crash landing, but Tearen could see that the man was still alive. A slight jostling alerted the Shadow to the fact that the Knight of Hatred was feeling around for his sickle. This was ridiculous; Gamil could have easily crushed Tearen’s avian body in a single hand, and yet, the gladiator still felt a need to search for his weapon.
 
The crow spotted it, dug into the dust a few meters away, jutting up from the carnage-strewn garage floor like an angry, half-loose fang.  The Shadow swiftly shifted back into his glassy, humanoid body and stalked over to the weapon, glaring at it. He could feel Gamil’s mind screaming in protest, begging the Prime to stop. Tearen slowly rose a hand to the gleaming blade of the reverse sickle, and began to draw the Omnilium forth from its psionic blade. It was almost impossible to see Gamil writhing on the floor through all the dust and smoke, but Tearen could tell the brute was in agony, but of what variety, he was not sure.
 
When the extraction was complete, all that remained was the cloth-wrapped hilt of the accursed weapon. Whatever malevolent force had possessed the sickle had dissipated along with the blade, and a binding connection to the Knight of Hatred as well. Tearen walked calmly back over to Gamil’s body and looked down at the wrinkled, aged face. His long, ash-filled hair lay limp around his stretched and baggy features. Red, swollen bags beneath his eyes wriggled as his eyes rolled around restlessly beneath their lids. It was sleep, deep and peaceful, in a manner that Tearen presumed had been unknown to Gamil for many years. The Prime bent down and smooth a strand of hair out of the gladiator’s face with a smile.
 
“There there, sport. Everything will be alright.” Tearen whispered. A barrage of gunfire through the smog immediately put the ex-enigma back on alert, especially when one of the massive rounds slammed into his mid back with shattering force. The power of the stray shot was unimaginable, and it forced the Shadow to stagger forwards over Gamil’s armored bulk with a wheezing gasp. The ex-enigma leaned up against a repair bay wall and sank to the floor, feeling cold, black blood soak through both the front and back of his burlap vestments. Things became very slow then.
 
A blurry light, swinging through the haze…
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Indistinct shouting…
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The sound of a screaming engine…
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Tearen’s head lolled up slowly as he distantly heard approaching footsteps. A dark figure stood over him, and grabbed him harshly by the cuff…
 
...

Sometime later, Tearen came to. He was unsure of whether or not he had died, at first. One of the drawbacks of being a Prime, he supposed. He weakly felt around at the wound in his upper left quadrant, and found that it had already closed. Good. That was good. He closed his eyes again, and listened. The sound of trickling water was what he noticed first, along with a warm breeze. He cracked open one, heavy eyelid and the world came into focus.
 
He was back in the Vault. At first, he grew concerned that the Immortan Joe had captured both himself and Tyrael, and that Tearen was just a new addition to the warlord’s bargaining chips. A few clues tipped him off that this wasn’t the case. First, the carbonite chamber was still empty. Second the shattered pane of glass in the ceiling was still broken. The injured Prime propped himself up and stared at a nearby bench, which an armored form was dozing on. It was odd, seeing such a legend of the Omniverse doing something as mundane as napping, but this was indeed what Tyrael was doing. Something seemed to signal the angel that his ally was awake, and the ultimate Prime sat upright.
 
“I had no doubt that you would survive; your healing abilities are quite remarkable.” Tyrael said, pulling his hood away from his face. He had a tired expression on his face, as if he had been carrying around bad news for too long.
 
“Still, it is good to see that you are well. I suspect you’ll want to be leaving the Underverse then, yes?” the angel said, his tone immaculately neutral. Tearen tried to gently probe at the seraphim’s thoughts, but felt his mind slapped away like a toddler reaching for the cookie jar.
 
“I know who you are, Nealaphh.” Tyrael said gravely.
 
“Tearen. Tearen Wover. The other name is who I was…not who I am.” The Shadow said in a tone that lingered somewhere between contrition and vindication. Tyrael shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
 
“All the same. Your actions that led you to this place, the Underverse, may seem benevolent on the surface, but nothing hides from Justice.” Tyrael said, gesturing at his immense sword. Tearen glared at the blade, becoming sick of half-sentient weaponry. It was tempting to try and put himself on trial, and defend his actions against this adjudicator, but both Primes knew the score here. Nealaphh had been a ruthless killer, manipulator and general fiend.
 
“Perhaps. I’m just glad I banished myself when I found the opportunity. Nealaphh was dangerous.” Tearen said, coming to a full, seated position. This response seemed to catch the angel off guard, but his staunch judgment remained.
 
“Yes. Which is why I cannot release you back into the Omniverse proper. You understand, yes?” Tyrael said, casting a heavy look at the rug beneath his bench. Tearen tried to accept this answer, but could not. No. Setbacks came and went, but Tearen Wover was never outright denied victory. Not when infinity was offered to him. Anger rose.
 
“I understand.” Tearen nodded. Tyrael began to stand up.
 
“…but I do not agree.” The comparatively novice Prime intoned. Tyrael sat back down, and donned a patient look. The Shadow could tell that the ensuing tantrum would be something the angel had seen many times before, but dammit, as long as he had this legend’s ear he would use it. The Shadow only wished he had the strength to pace around the room with a stern gait.
 
“You, who make yourself judge. On what authority? Auspice? Because you have the key and I don’t? Angels…” Tearen said throwing up his hands, “I knew angels. Servile beings without actual souls, incapable of breaking from their code. Not for lack of intelligence, no, but because their faith trumped reason. Fah. And what rank of angel are you?”
 
“Seraphim.” Tyrael said, in a tone that was not entirely unlike condescension.
 
“Of course. You array yourself as the protector of the innocent. Innocent! Innocence where? In Coruscant? In the Endless Dunes? You, who sit at the summit of power because you got to make the rules. You, who pit humans against their very natures, and the damndest thing is…” Tearen said, pausing to laugh.
 
“…the damndest thing is that they try. They try so HARD, Tyrael, to live up to those expectations that you have labeled ‘goodness’ and ‘purity’. And then, when they inevitably fail, so quick are the clergymen to point at the weakness of the human soul, the sins of the flesh. Smug!” Tearen swore, swiping his hand in front of him. The window nearest to his left shattered and blew itself out, causing Tyrael to raise a wary eyebrow. He knew better of it, but the ex-enigma allowed the outrage to help the injured Prime to his feet.
 
“Even the greatest of us, we, humans, are not free of our animal selves! Einstein squatted in the toilet! Mozart, plowing his whores! You label these things as being ‘vulgar’ and ‘untrue’. You deny us the realities of the bodies that YOU put us in. TO WHAT END?” Tearen shouted, his cracked mouth almost managing to catch an actual voice. A silence passed between them, and Tyrael’s brow furrowed deeply.
 
“Goodness, Truth, Justice, these are only perfectly attained by the likes of myself, who embody them. Yes.” Tyrael said in a low voice. Now he too, stood, and towered over the smaller, glass-skinned Prime.
 
“What is the alternative, Tearen? Chaos? Bedlam? We both know you idolized those ideals, and look how it kicked you into despair. It is in the striving for the holy alternative that mankind redeems itself. Without it, there can be no guarantee of sanctity of life. This is my directive.” Tyrael boomed. Tearen glowered up at the immense angel.
 
“…and if they don’t, what? They’ll end up here?” Tearen said, gesturing up at the profane sky overhead. Tyrael’s face adopted a grave darkness.
 
“…possibly.” He said softly. Tearen kept his eyes locked on Tyrael’s and allowed his hands to drop. A slow nod was the only response at first.
 
“How empty, your sanctified Omniverse will be.” The Shadow taunted. He held Tyrael’s stare for another minute before flipping up his own hood, and began to gather his possessions.
 
“Fine then. If you will not release me to the Omniverse, then perhaps Diablo will. With any luck, his standards for acts of evil will be as arbitrary as your standards for acts of good. Then, maybe, I’ll be able to redeem myself, even without your blessed approval.” Tearen spat, beginning to stagger out through the vault door. For the first time, he could feel a flicker of panic slip through Tyrael’s fortified mental barriers. The ex-enigma had almost made it out into the waiting room when the angel spoke again.
 
“…wait.”