"I have to say," Magnus calmly pointed out, lounging on the carpeted floor of their cell, "As far as prison cells go, this is quite comfy! I should speak to Dad about adding some shag carpet to the Imperial Palace, if he decides I'm no longer a traitor… again."
The cell holding the gang was designed and furnished in a way that far more resembled a luxurious suite than a prison. Carpeting, wallpaper, a full living room set and stocked kitchen – it even had several bedrooms to accommodate each member of the party. And of course, everything inside was decorated with a bright pink motif.
"My only complaint is that none of the furniture is Primarch-sized." Magnus continued, "I'd be much happier on a bed. Though, I must admit, this carpet is far comfier than those stone slabs the call 'beds' in the palace. That's why you get for letting Dorn design the bedrooms, I suppose."
Luz was slumped in a daze on the couch, leaning against Amity. Her girlfriend had one arm wrapped around her and held Luz' head close to hers in a show up comfort and support. At hearing Magnus' words, however, she suddenly rose up with anger. Luz looked down at the floor and stared daggers at the Primarch, and he looked back at her with indifference.
"I'm sorry, but I am taking crazy-pills?" Luz shouted, "How are you so calm? We just got captured by the pervy-narcissistic-snake-daemon, and are being held captive until he can, and I quote, find some 'savory uses for us!' We are children! I can handle trauma, Magnus, but not whatever crazy Neverland stuff Fulgrim has planned!"
"You don't need to worry about that." Magnus responded indifferently, "He meant what he said about having us be his 'personal theater troupe. These Slaaneshi types can derive pleasure from anything, but when you've indulged in your hedonistic impulses for as long as Fulgrim has, you become helplessly bored. Forcing a bunch of teenagers to perform Shakespeare is, for the time being, novel to him. Now, our clone Fulgrim, on the other hand…"
Magnus pointed across the room towards the clone Fulgrim, who sat slumped in the corner in a near catatonic state. By his side were Gus and Willow, desperately trying to snap their friend out of it.
"Yeah, he's got some real problems to worry about." Magnus concluded.
"Was meeting his original self that traumatizing?" Amity asked, holding Luz in consolation.
"Well, it certainly wasn't helpful." Magnus explained, "But it's definitely not the crux of the issue. Daemon Fulgrim is a malignant narcissist serving a god of pleasure and debauchery, and here we have a perfect clone of him at his prime. What is your first guess for what he might want to do with that clone?"
Amity stared at the Primarch for a moment, trying to understand the question. As she stared, she felt Luz pull away from her grasp and rise to an upright position. Amity turned towards her girlfriend and saw her eyes wide with a horrific realization. Upon seeing the expression, suddenly Amity understood what Magnus was implying.
"No…" Amity whispered with a shudder, "No, no… he wouldn't…"
"If there was anyone in the universe to take the phrase 'go f**k yourself' to heart…" Magnus groaned.
"I…" Luz started before lurching forward and clutching her stomach. She rose back up and let out an audible gag before covering her mouth with one hand and darting away from the couch.
"Bathroom!" Luz cried as she sprinted into an empty room, slamming the door shut behind her.
After Luz had fled, Amity turned her attention to Magnus.
"Hey, Magnus?" she asked in a voice dripping with annoyance, "Maybe save the selfcest talk for when the kids are gone?"
"Okay, that one was on me." Magnus admitted, "But I have to ask, why are you having such a subdued reaction to that revelation?"
"After seeing Banana-Boy's stripper buddies in the palace?" Amity rhetorically asked, "Every horrifying revelation since then has been a cakewalk."
"Ugh, tell me about it." Magnus groaned in agreement, "I like you, green-haired one. I can see why Luz likes you so much."
"Well…" Amity stuttered, suppressing the urge to grin as she began to blush, "Glad that somebody knows an awesome girlfriend when they see one."
"You remind me a bit of my younger self. Intelligent, ambitious, terrible parents… ha, even your face is turning red!" Magnus guffawed as he sat up and saw the blushing witch, "Though, to be honest, not crazy about the hair color. Have ever considered lavender? Oh, speaking of lavender, have you found any tea yet?"
Magnus turned his attention to the kitchen, where Kitten was sifting through several drawers and cabinets.
"All they have is lapsang!" an annoyed Kitten responded, "If I wanted something that smoky, I'd just set the bloody room on fire."
"Eh, put the kettle on. I'll have a mug." Magnus replied, "Any of you kids interested? I'm just going to go ahead and assume Fulgrim doesn't want any."
"Oh, Titan, shut up!" Willow cried. Magnus, shocked by the outburst, turned his head to see the girl marching towards him as Gus continued to tend to Fulgrim.
"Child, what's the reason for this?" Magnus asked, inexplicably feeling threatened by the witch's approach, "I only asked if you wanted some tea."
"That's the problem!" Willow growled, stopping her approach a few inches from the Primarch, "Luz was right, everything about this is totally messed up! Fulgrim is in crisis, we should be helping him out! At the very least, we should be trying to find a way out of this prison!"
"I've thought of that, child." Magnus frustratedly responded, "And I…"
Magnus stopped as a shark pain pressed against his cheek. His head was turned from the force, and he stared off into the distance in befuddlement. Once he had regathered his thoughts, he rubbed his hand against the part of his face that had been struck. Tender skin that would probably look very red if it wasn't already that color.
"D – did you slap me?" Magnus stuttered, turning back towards Willow, "She – she just f**king slapped me, and it hurt! What in the f**k are they feeding you witches?"
"I'm sick of Primarchs complaining about their fragile egos!" Willow hissed, "Aren't you guys, like, demigods? How is it that all of you can be so insecure?"
"How can I be so insecure?!" Magnus snarled, caressing his sore cheek, "Why don't you try being a precognizant psyker and tell me how f**king stable you are? It drove Konrad mad, and if not for Horus, it would've killed Sanguinius! You want to know why I'm so calm right now? It's because I F**KING FORESAW THESE EVENTS!"
"You… foresaw this?" Amity asked.
"Yes, most likeable witch, I foresaw this!" Magnus snapped, "When I resided in the Warp, I saw a day when I would be taken captive by Fulgrim – the daemon Fulgrim, to be precise. I enacted a contingency plan to make sure I'd have an escape window – and today just so happens to be the day my long-awaited plans come to fruition."
"Wait, you saw this?" an exasperated Willow asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because future-visions are confusing as s**t!" Magnus yelled, "I had this vision 800 years ago, but due to Warp nonsense, it was actually last Wednesday! Even then, not all of the details were clear. I had no idea you lot would be here!"
"Erm… Willow?" Kitten nervously asked from the kitchen, "Maybe don't rile Magnus up."
"I'm gonna have to go with Kitten on this one." Gus added.
Willow offered no response to her friend of the Captain General. She simply stood and continued to glare malevolently into Magnus' eye. Magnus let out an enraged huff, before regaining control over his breathing. Once properly calmed, he resumed speaking.
"You, Gus, and Fulgrim were on Istvaan III, correct? Magnus dutifully said to Willow, "You saw something there. A combination of human and machine. His name was Rylanor, right?"
"You knew about that?" Willowed asked, her expression softening.
"THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO…" Magnus shouted before stopping himself and calming down, "Yes, I knew. And you ran into three space marines upon your exit, right? Clad in azure and gold armor? They are my sons."
"We did…" Gus answered, "You really did see that? So, you know what to do next, right?"
"Yes, but not explicitly." Magnus explained, "I know that, in a few minutes, Fulgrim will summon you children to his throne room. He'll have me stay here with Kitten and clone Fulgrim for security purposes. Something will happen then – I don't know what, but I will know when it happens. Once that event has occurred, I will break out with clone Fulgrim and rendezvous with you all. Then we make our escape. Again, not all of the details are clear to me. But I am confident that this will work."
"Hey guys!" Luz shouted as she triumphantly exited the restroom, "Sorry, I was just, uh, brushing my teeth! By the way, did anyone else notice that they have Tom's of Maine in there? How did they know about my hydrogen peroxide allergy?"
The group looked upon Luz in uncomfortable silence.
"Uh…" Luz droned, "Sorry, did something happened while…"
Luz stopped at the sound of metal on metal filled the room. It may not have been noticed had the group been conversing, but in the relative silence, it was deafening. The sound of a key turning a lock, the sliding of gears, and then a loud click. The group turned their heads towards where the sound had originated, the front door, save the two Primarchs. Fulgrim continued to sit quietly in the corner, and Magnus lied himself back down on the carpet.
The front door was gently pushed open, revealing four cultists of Slaanesh. Each had pale skin and wore black leather garments, and their bodies had been twisted and deformed through a series of painful and pleasurable implements that stood impaled into their skin.
"Dios mío…" Luz thought to herself, "Clive Barker's a Slaaneshi cultist?!"
"Lord Fulgrim requeshtsh your preshenche." The leader of the cultists spoke. She was hairless, and a strip of black cloth covered her eyes. Metal wires were sewn into the corners of her lips and wrapped tightly around her head, stretching her mouth into a permanent rictus grin. Her visible teeth were barely held in place by decayed and blackened gums.
"The Primarch and the falshe Fulgrim will not be needed. Nor the gilded one." The head cultist elaborated, "We sheek only the children."
"Wait, what's going…"
Luz stopped as Amity jumped off of the couch and rushed to her girlfriend's side. She gripped Luz' hand tightly and looked deeply into her eyes. It was a looked that seemed to say, "Trust us."
"Okay." Willow responded, now seeing the truth in Magnus' prediction, "We will honor his summons."
"That ish for the besht." The head cultist replied. She turned away from the door, and her fellow cultists followed suit.
"Don't worry, Fulgrim." Gus whispered as he rose to his feet, "We'll see you again. We'll get out of this, I promise."
For the first time since their imprisonment, Fulgrim move. He turned his head up towards Gus, then turned to look at Willow, then back to Gus."
"Thank you." He whispered, "I'll see you again."
Gus nodded to Fulgrim, acknowledging his words, and then joined his fellow witches and Luz. They made their way through the threshold and followed the discount cenobites.
The four cultists were disturbingly fluid in their movements. They almost seemed to be floating as the group followed them. They made their way down lavishly decorated corridors throughout Fulgrim's residence, both parties completely silent. They hallway eventually came to an end, a stone wall painted in royal purple and accented with spun gold. The head cultist pressed each corner of the wall and then pointed her fingers in its center, slowly spreading them outwards. With that motion, the wall slowly slid back, revealing a dark stairwell. The head cultist turned and nodded to the children, before leading her fellow cultists up the stairs.
The children followed silently, though nervously shaking at what horrors may await them. The climb only took a minute or so, but to them, it felt like hours. Eventually, they could see a shimmering light beckon from above the stairs. As they crossed through the exit, they found themselves in a lavish suite. The walls were coated in golden paint, and to the left and wright, short Corinthian pillars supporting historic works of art stood proudly. The daemon Fulgrim sat directly ahead of them, atop towered a massive throne of pure gold, flanked on each side by daemonettes. The children couldn't help but notice how it looked remarkably similar to his father's.
"Ugh…" Willow groaned with a click of her tongue, "He would."
"My Mashter, oh Immaculate Lord Fulgrim," the head cultist said with a ceremonial bow, "We preshent the prishoners."
Her presence, for a moment, was unnoticed by Fulgrim. The daemon had a large manuscript on his lap and was turning through the pages discerningly. After a moment of reading, he marked his page and closed the binder, looking up at the loyal cultist.
"Ah, splendid." The daemon hissed as he uncoiled himself, slithering his way down from the throne, "My servants will make sure that you are rewarded handsomely."
The daemonettes flanking the throne marched forward, beckoning the cultists to follow them. The cultists obediently approached them, and they were soon led out into a chamber to the side of the throne. On their way, Fulgrim stopped one of the daemonettes, making sure she remained next to him once the rest of the party had left the room.
"Please, do make sure they're prepared confit this time." Fulgrim hissed, "The last batch were merely poached. Cultists just don't taste the same when they aren't bubbled away in their own fat."
The daemonette silently nodded, then made their way to the side chamber. Fulgrim, with the manuscript under his arm, turned to the children and smiled with delight.
"Oh, my dear thespians, it is truly a delight to see you!" he declared with damned praise, "I've been reviewing the summer tour, and I think that we've a perfect ensemble before us!"
With his two left arms, Fulgrim opened the manuscript. He used his lower right hand to flip through the pages, while the upper right hand pointed towards each of the children.
"You, Luz!" Fulgrim beckoned, "A troubled childhood, the tragic loss of your father, and being brought up by a struggling single mother? Oh my, you're the perfect underdog heroine the audience has been dying for!"
The children stood in silent obedience as Fulgrim slunk back and forth throughout the chamber. Amity, fully processing what Fulgrim had just said, turned towards her beloved. She saw wide, sad eyes, and wells of water collecting beneath them. She wanted to say something – anything to comfort her, but a combination of fear and duty kept her silent.
"Ah, yes, and you!" Fulgrim continued, slinking uncomfortably close to Amity, "Buonosera to you, our latest reformed school bully! You found your high school sweetheart! The people will love how your evil ways have been purified by the innocence of teenage romance! I mean, you haven't really repented: based on my notes, you did precisely nothing to make up for Willow's life of childhood bullying, but that's fine! They'll just compare you to a reformed Slytherin, sans the ethnonationalism. The audience will be too shallow to care, and Willow, despite her strength, is too spineless to…"
Daemon Fulgrim suddenly stopped and rose to full attention. He darted his eyes around the room, before looking down at the children with an abrasive glare.
"My apologies," the Primarch hissed, "But did someone leave their cellphone on?"
The four children stared silently at Fulgrim, still stunned from his harsh assessment of them.
"Ugh, there is goes again!" Fulgrim cried, using his upper arms to cover his ears, "Either answer me or make this bloody beeping stop!"
"Fulgrim," Luz answered, using her shirt to dab tears from her face, "We don't hear anything."
"What in the Prince's name do you mean you don't…" Fulgrim suddenly stopped, removing his hands from his head. His newly freed ears twitched reflexively back and forth, and his eyes widened, and pupils shrank in fury.
"No…" Fulgrim growled as he clenched his jaw, "I know that frequency. I know that f**king planet! Wait here, children, I'll be just a moment."
Fulgrim lowered his head and closed his eyes, taking in a few good, deep breaths. After a moment of silent contemplation, Fulgrim's upper right hand raised above his head, and with a snap of his finger, the serpentine daemon vanished in a puff of purple smoke.