"Your mother is dead." Thragg said plainly and quickly. And Argall stiffened at the news – only very briefly glancing at the Rangdan creature in Thragg's grasp.

There was no need to sugarcoat the truth of it to spare his boy from pain and grief. No need to lie when reality was so much clearer. And so, Thragg told him the full truth of it. There was nothing more to be said – at least, for now. Still, he did not miss the break in Argall's otherwise stony expression as soon as the words left Thragg's lips, a twitch in his eyes and the clenching of his jaws. He'd never seen his son truly angered before, Thragg mused. This would be a good test of his patience and his ability to power through grief. Argall's rage streamed out of him, like a great tidal wave. The boy's hands balled into fists, shaking with barely-contained fury.

"Did she-?"

Thragg shook his head and, briefly, glanced down upon the alien creature in his grasp, which had stayed limp and placid this whole time. It was still alive, of course, but, Thragg mused, likely not for long. "She did not suffer. She died in her sleep... blissfully unaware."

"That... that is good." Argall breathed a sigh of relief, one ladened by grief. No tears fell from his boy's eyes. And Thragg had to wonder if the lack of tears came from a place of strength or if it stemmed from a place of weakness. But, ultimately, that was something Argall would have to decide for himself, a trial that only he could take and hopefully pass. His son swallowed a lump in his throat, before his gaze turned downwards, towards the alien in Thragg's grasp. "This must be one of the masters."

Thragg nodded. "That's certainly possible, but it is one of many; we should not be hasty in drawing conclusions, which is precisely why I brought this one back with me. Already, I've found that these creatures possess an incredible form of regeneration – greater than yours, I think. Whether or not they can come back from the dead or merely survive grave injuries remains unknown; though, if the former is true, then I suppose we'll see soon enough."

After all, there had been quite a number of them, falling from the sky, their bodies torn and ripped to shreds alongside their hideous and misshapen vessels. If these aliens were capable of returning to life from death, then dealing with them would be a very tedious thing. Thragg himself hadn't encountered many such creatures, but – after thousands and thousands of years of war and battle – he did meet and fight and kill a few. The trick was destroy their whole bodies immediately. Fire, most of the time, was sufficient in dealing with them. Failing that, hurling them into their own star or into a black hole usually did the trick.

Luckily, these Rangdan were small and largely confined to somewhat humanoid size – if only a bit larger than most humans could ever be, but not towering monstrosities of flesh and bone. And so the humans of this planet had plenty of tools for dealing with them, considering that some of their weapons of war were powerful enough, by Thragg's estimation, to pose a threat to some of the weaker Viltrumites, which was not at all a discredit to their power. And so, with the right tool, these aliens can and will be defeated.

"We should bring this to the others for further testing and study," Argall said, after a moment, the bow scowling at the defeated alien. Sighing, the boy reached into his pouch and pulled out a metallic disc of some sort, with a green jewel at its center. Argall handed it to him. "Press it against your chest and press the button, father. It'll clothe you in... something I've been working on for a while. It's not perfect – not yet – but it'll be a lot better than walking around in the nude. This way, people ask less questions."

Thragg raised a brow did as instructed, placing the disc on his chest and pressing the button. Immediately, a rush of energies fluttered out and enveloped his form, creating a sort of cast that perfectly mimicked the shape of his body, before an almost skintight suit appeared over his skin – white and gray and dark red, with sleeves that opened up slightly, and a skirt-like loincloth that honestly reminded him a little too much of what Viltrumites often wore. Actually, the whole suit was damn-near identical to what he'd worn when he was the Grand Regent, missing the cape, the long skirt, and the furs over his shoulders. It was... eerie. Still, the material, whatever it was, was soft and comfortable and flexible and didn't seemed at all as though it would tear itself apart if he flew or moved at high speeds. "It is good; thank you, Argall. But, I assume you designed this for a specific purpose in mind; what was it?"

Argall shrugged. For a moment, it almost seemed as though he'd forgotten his grief as he answered. "Outer space. It was meant to be a flexible means of traversing the vacuum of space, resist radiation, heat, cold, friction, and overall physical damage. It's as durable as I could make out a skintight suit to be, which means it's not nearly as resilient as I'd like. But, should you ever find yourself once more diving into a mountain, father, or into a volcano, then I'm rather certain it would, at least, survive."

Thragg nodded. That was good to know.

And then, his eyes narrowed and his head turned upward, towards the sky – beyond it, to the thousands of twinkling, blinking lights that'd just plunged into the planet's exosphere. Thragg scowled. This must be the brunt of their invasion force; certainly, a thousand of their ships was more than enough to conquer the entire planet if the awakening of the Iron Men failed or if the populace simply could not properly defend their settlements. They were lucky, then, that these Rangdan just so happened to make the mistake of killing his beloved Nareena. "More of them are coming – another fleet. Bigger than the last. Thousands this time. They are headed straight for this city."

"I will destroy them," Thragg finished, before he raised the alien, still in his grasp, and passed it to Argall. "Take this to the others. Study it, learn from it, and try to discern its weaknesses; most of all, try to figure out the location of their home world. When I am done, these aliens will regret ever coming to this world; but, after that, the defense of this planet falls to you, my son."

Argall nodded, not bothering to argue or pry more information as he usually would've. "I will do my best, father. But, what will you do?"

"Provided its location is revealed to us," Thragg said, his eyes darkening, a tiny bit of rage seeping out of its cage, before he stomped it away into nothing. He could not lose control. He couldn't. Losing himself to his anger would mean spitting on all the years he'd spent with Nareena, all the time and effort she'd spent so that Thragg could become better than who he'd once been. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't exact revenge on her behalf. "I will be paying their home planet a visit."

His son's eyes narrowed, a look of understanding about him, before he nodded. "You intend to annihilate their main world?"

"I will do what is necessary," Thragg answered. In truth, he wasn't sure what he'd do even if they did find the home planet of these Rangdan. A part of him wished they wouldn't find anything at all. But, if he was pushed to it, if the need for destruction and carnage outweighed the need for mercy, then it wouldn't be the first time he'd destroyed the surface of an entire planet – far from it. And, if he was being entirely honest, these Rangdan aliens didn't exactly stir any feeling of mercy from within him. In fact, he felt only loathing for them. "But, we're likely dealing with an interstellar empire. The loss of their home world, no matter how impactful, likely wouldn't stop them. These Rangdan would be dealt a savage blow, yes, but it is possible that the destruction of their home planet would only embolden them. So, the people of this planet must be ready for what comes after."

Confusion flickered all over his son's face, the boy's eyes narrowing. And then, he asked, "What should I do, father? I can only build things, weapons, armor, trinkets, but... I'm... I'm not a leader."

"No one ever is." Thragg answered. He himself wasn't ready when he was made Grand Regent of the Viltrumite Empire and look where that got him. But Argall was different. The boy was wise and possessed of something Thragg had lacked when he came into power – empathy. Argall, for all his faults, possessed a strong sense of right and wrong, a sense of justice. And, really, Thragg couldn't think of anyone else more suited; it honestly seemed as though the boy was designed to be a great leader, even excluding his aura of extreme charisma.

"You must unite them, Argall. Already, many of them look up to you as their leader. You and you alone possess the power to change this world for the better. Unite them. Unite every city. Hell, if you can convince them, have the Iron Men join you as well." Thragg continued. "And, when the Rangdan finally return, the people of this planet will be ready – with you at the helm, leading them forward."

Argall breathed in, nodded, and steeled himself. He did not argue. "Do you think I can do it, father? Do you think I can be a good leader?"

"I believe that you are a good man, Argall," Thragg reached out and placed his right hand on his son's shoulder, comforting him. "And, because of that, I know that you will be a great leader of the people; your mother and I always believed that you were destined for more than just the scrap of this world. They will look up to you. They will race behind you. You will be a symbol to them, a goal to strive towards. So, stop holding back, my son. Show the people of this world what you're truly capable of."

Argall's face hardened for a moment, before he nodded. "I will do all that I can, father. I will make you proud."

"I've always been proud of you, my son." Thragg smiled softly as he pulled his son, who was now almost as tall as he was, into a warm embrace. Funny. He'd never really hugged Argall before. The boy stiffened for a moment, before he returned the gesture. They separated after a moment, and Thragg nodded as he took a step back, his feet levitating off the ground higher and higher. "Your mother loved you with all her heart, as well, Argall. And she would've been proud to see you now."

"Thank you... father." A few droplets of tears gathered at the edges of Argall's face, but Thragg knew better. Even now, he heard the beating of Argall's heart, the rage, the grief, the anguish of losing his mother. Not even Viltrumites were above such emotions. And Argall was no exception. For all his power, the boy was just that, a boy – one gifted with powers beyond what most humans could ever dream of. That he was pushing such a hefty responsibility onto his son did not sit right with him, truly, but these were extraordinary circumstances that required extraordinary solutions. Argall was the solution. Hopefully, the people of this planet would realize that as well. "I will do my best."

"I know you will, my son." Thragg's head snapped upwards. The alien fleet drew closer and closer with every passing moment. It was time. "Do not worry for me, Argall. I will return."

"See you soon, father."

And then, Thragg accelerated upwards and quickly gained speed, leaving a trail of dust and fire behind him, which dissipated into the clouds. A fleet of thousands of ships awaited him the void. He would lose himself to anger, Thragg swore, but he most certainly was going to let loose. He reached the thermosphere within the span of a single second, a gathering of grotesque vessels immediately appearing about him. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a sneer.

This time, he wouldn't be leaving any survivors. He was going to kill them all.

AN: Chapter 12 is up on (Pat)reon