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Kaotic Beginnings 4

Dinner had not been quite what they had expected. The military base they had found themselves in was also not quite what they had expected. It was barely built and, so far, deserted. As the sandstorm outside died down the three friends could see for miles in every direction; it was all flat, all beige, like a blank canvas waiting for a fine artist to create a masterpeice with. Or a toddler to smack painted handprints upon. Either way it was full of possibility, and very little else.

Past the dining hall lay a block of living quarters, a low grey concrete building filled with rather pleasant and spacious rooms that Rap and Rave spent a few minutes nosing into before choosing their favourite to claim as their new home.

The Dragon had other plans for Anar, and he left his two raptor friends unpacking their meagre belongings that they had brought with them from the old apartment, and made his way back towards the Reception area and turned left. Why he had to be up here he didn't know, but that was what The Dragon had told Rap and Rave while he had been contemplating the odd metal slab in the War Room. He walked past some offices, all fully furnished but predictably unoccupied, and then past a massive room with a fully stocked bar lit up inside

This must be the mess, though it's clean and tidy at the moment, haha. It was in need of a few pool tables and some snazzy neon signage for atmosphere. Maybe some Mario Kart arcade machines if he could wrangle a few of those from The Dragon. He walked across the brand spanking new carpet, not in a particular rush to be in his own quarters on his lonesome, and perused the beverage selection. There was electricity here, thanks to a whole bunch of generators. Fridges hummed full of Budweiser. 'Don't mind if I do,' he thought, popping a metal cap off with a 'clink'. Might as well make himself at home. Some people might be distraught at the thought of being stranded on a far-away planet far from home, unsure whether they would see their family ever again, but odd things happened to Anar all the time. Talking horses, plushies that came to life, velociraptors travelling through rogue portals - he'd seen it all. He'd made friends with Underworld fiends and left Hell burning (well, the bits of Hell that weren't meant to be burning, anyway) and this was just another chapter in his life to be filled with unexpected happenings and bizarre friendships.

The beer was cold and refreshing and welcome. It was clear that soon this would be a very busy army base, and he was going to be in command of it. He sure hoped The Dragon knew what he was doing! Anar wouldn't trust himself to keep plants alive, never mind actual sentient beings. Warlock was a brilliant name for a military officer though, it had to be said. It looked good after just about anything - Major Warlock, Commander Warlock. Maybe not Captain Warlock, that sounded like he wore his underpants on the outside and had a cape fetish. He tapped the glass bottle on the sparklingly clean bar counter and wondered if he should actually go for General Warlock as his chosen title, like his ancestor. His friend Destroyer the Nightmare often got he and his ancestor mixed up. The fantastically magical horse had served under the original General Warlock many hundreds of years ago, and he'd soon learned not to bother correcting the beast when he started on one of his trips down memory lane.

The Dragon had really pointed at him back in the little inn and declared that he could be a great man. Could he? An ex-Demon, a societal outcast thanks to the spark of useless natural magic that ran in his veins, a rare species of mammal that never got identified correctly first try. All he'd really wanted was to take over the running of the farm back at Warlock Court. Farming was honest work. No one had to die. Well... the sheep and cattle did. But he could have grown crops instead... As the last drop of amber liquid drained from the bottle he wondered what his uncle was up to these days. Was the old codger even still alive? He'd been so nice to him. Always joking and sharing the family mysteries with awe and wonder. What if he never got to tell him what he'd learned from Crispin? What the strange text had revealed in the Book of Warlock that no-one had been able to read for a hundred years or more? He'd always wanted to know.

As his thoughts turned melancholy and his ears drooped steadily downwards, Anar decided another beer was just asking for a bad time and he slowly made his way out of the mess, further along the corridor and up a flight of steps. This was the only one of the small selection of available buildings to have a higher storey. He wondered why go to the bother of making his private area up here when you had a bazillion miles of desert to build all over? But nothing seemed to make much sense right now. It was all rather chaotic. Huh. Anarchy was in charge of chaos. He'd remember that for tomorrow. Rap and Rave would find that little bit most amusing.

There was a hand scanner to the right of his door. His heart sank slightly as he dreaded what this piece of smart technology had in store for him but to his eternal gratitude he registered his print first try and the large, heavy door swung open with a 'click'. He nudged it further open with a foot and slid The Bag off his shoulder and shrugged off his old demonic cape. 'Welcome home', he thought. 'I suppose I'd better make myself comfortable'.

It was a spacious airy room, fully furnished just like Rap and Rave's, with a bed and dresser, wardrobe and table. There was a comfy sofa off to the side and a doorway leading to a bathroom. Another doorway lead into what looked like a little kitchen with a tiled floor. Very nice! A breeze ruffled his hair and he turned his head to the billowing floor-length curtain past the bed at the far end of the room. He walked over to close it and paused. The setting suns were glowing in glorious deep orange hues and for a moment he felt his breath taken away at the beauty of it all. As he brushed the curtain aside, the wondrous light caught the stretching desert beyond, making it look almost like it was ablaze, and he stepped out onto the balcony that was hidden beyond. He stood in the chill evening air, up high above this strange new land. This was why his living space was up here. He could see out across their property, take in the entirety of his new domain.

A part of him suddenly wanted to make this work, to be the great man that The Dragon thought he could be, to finally have something he could be passionate about. Years of skulking around Hell, being work-shy and emo, bad-tempered and bitter could be left behind in the past now where they belonged. This was his time. This was his future. All he had to do was reach out and take it. No matter what he was faced with tomorrow in the War Room with The Dragon, it would be General Warlock that would be dealing with the aftermath. Swords and sorcery? Bring it. Orcs and Elves? Whatever. He'd fed rogue demons to his Astral cat, he could do anything. Except push-ups, he'd probably have to work on those.

He stayed up on his little balcony watching the descending orbs a while longer until the tiredness really began to kick in. Reluctantly he turned his back on the fading vista and returned to his quarters, closing the glass door behind him and letting the curtain fall back into place. He found some basic clothes in the drawers; a few green t-shirts and vests with tan combat trousers to match, and a few thick green belts. They'd work on the uniform soon enough - make it their own. Rap was probably already dreaming up ideas!

He stripped to his Calvin Kleins for bed, he never wore anything more. As it was a desert, the temperature went down with the suns, but the heating appeared to work. Which was nice. It was going to feel strange being in a place that actually functioned. He wondered if the shower would meet expectations too and he walked into the bathroom to find out.

His mind had been so busy and distracted with being crammed full of inner dialogue and random thoughts that his eyes fell on the mirror in front of him and he damned near shat himself. Finally, his senses caught up with him to reassure his fleeing body that, no, his father was not in his bathroom, that was in fact himself that he'd just caught a fleeting glimpse of and Holy Hell what in the actual fuck was going on?!

His heart hammered and his pulse raced as he returned to the reflective surface, visibly shaken and distraught. He paled. He also felt vaguely nauseous. See, when he left the Underworld he'd been under the impression that crossing through the Abyssal Gate back into the mortal plane would reset his body. All minions working under Hell Afterlife Services contracts were promised their youth back on completion of their work term. That was one of the big perks. You could be down there slaving away for two hundred years and come back as though no time had passed. Like turning back the clock. He should be young and fresh-faced.

Anar was suddenly an old bastard. His hair was meant to be grey, true, well he was an aardvark after all, but this was proper grey. Aged grey. No wonder Rap had looked at him funny. There were a few lines on his brow, around the corners of his mouth too. He'd been robbed! Fuck knows how old he was, but he absolutely was not sodding nineteen like he'd expected himself to be. That was when he'd signed his contract. The contract that his stupid interfering father had extended to twenty years on his behalf. Thanks dad, you git. Not that it mattered because he'd gotten himself out after five years thank goodness. His Hell Afterlife Services contract had gone up in flames... deleted...

Shit.

He'd not thought about that, had he?

What had Jez Huttgart said back at the High Rise Block? There was always a price to pay for getting out early. Hell didn't let you just walk away.

Anarchy Warlock hadn't completed his contract. It had been destroyed. He was being punished by the small-print now. Hell Afterlife Services had taken the remaining years owed to them from him by force and he had aged for all of them.

Anarchy Warlock would now be thirty nine. He sighed, deeply. It was one thing to have a wasted youth - quite another to have a missing one. He broke contact with his distasteful reflection, showered angrily and went to bed. Tomorrow would be better. Had to be. It certainly couldn't get any worse.