Defiance of the Fall

"A bunch of nothing," Bubbur said, looking about ready to bite into the engraved antenna he'd taken out. "What about you, big guy?"

Rhuger shook his head and stepped back. "The lingering energy has already dissipated. There's no way to reopen a pathway or see where the others were sent."

"What dogshit luck! With so many freaks around, I get struck with you two? Might as well lay down and die before one of those revolting things finds us," Bubbur grumbled before catching himself. "Uh, no offense."

"I get it," Rhuger said. "We're not exactly the first string here."

"So what should we do? Stay put?" Bubbur said, looking around the cluttered warehouse. "As far as an infested base goes, this place isn't too bad. Less gunk than in the chambers before, and I'm carrying enough liquor to keep me going for a decade."

Rhuger turned toward Carl, who'd only half-listened to the conversation. The werewolf had been neurotic since his resurrection, which made sense considering how his predecessor's fearlessness led to his demise. Being separated from his dad and sister was bound to leave him floundering. Meanwhile, the musclebound brute hadn't followed their Emperor long enough to appreciate the nuances of being swept up in his storm of providence.

Carl was more interested in the buckets filled with tools and wires on the closest shelf than in figuring out why the gate separated them. Because why wouldn't it? This was how the boss operated. He'd disappear for days or years to do whatever madmen did. They'd probably reconvene when the boss was ready to blow up the base, the star, or perhaps the whole galaxy.

"Hey, snap out of it," Bubbur said, poking Carl with the antenna. "The scare didn't make you lose your marbles, right? Should we set up camp until someone comes to pick us up?"

"We can't," Carl said. "Not when we have a mission to complete."