04-14-2017, 09:40 PM
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...
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...
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued