04-24-2017, 11:11 PM
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.”
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.”
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