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The suns and their radiating warmth broke through into the mostly empty room and Anar woke with a start, almost reeling from the possibility that this was still Purgatory, and he was back in that old Hellscape with familiar terrors and challenges. He sat bolt upright in the spacious, comfy, barely-broken-in bed with a tangle of musty sheets at his ankles and a bead of sweat at his grey aged brow. His resurrected heart hammered, and his throat swallowed awkwardly. With a guttural exhale he shuddered with relief.

It was all over. He was in his new private quarters now, alone. Back on the mortal plane, on the Black Planet, in his new temporary workplace. He could breathe now, (quite literally, in fact,) he was a free aardvark. Well, free-ish. Free-er than he had been under that Damned contract at least. He glanced down at the bedside table where he had placed his phone and instinctively jabbed it on with a trembling grey finger. It was dead. There were no USB ports to charge it with here. Come to think of it, there were no satellites to connect to, neither. No signal, no wi-fi. It was like going back to the heady days of 1994 all over again but with less Thundercats on TV.

He let himself slump down again onto his pillow. It was soft and plump, exactly how a pillow should be. The mattress beneath him was firm yet springy, just as the expensive ones in Ikea are that you always vow to buy one day, but never actually do. The sheets, before he had soaked them with perspiration, were soft and sumptuous. Back at the High Rise apartment it hadn't been too difficult to pull himself out of his bed in the morning as it wasn't all that comfortable. Too long of a lie-in just gave you a numb bum. But this... this was like a hotel room bed.

His blood finally slowed down to a sensible pace as it flowed through his veins after that mad slumbering panic he'd just had. It had certainly invigorated him, pumping to parts of his body that had almost hibernated while he was miserably working Downstairs. They were certainly fully operational now, bringing themselves to his attention and honestly, he didn't mind in the least. Sex had not been on his to-do list in Hell, sure he'd had some fun with a cute half-elf demonology student by the name of Ember, and that had been simply wonderful, but it had all been done with an ulterior motive and two shags within a five-year timescale was nothing to be boasting about.

He closed his eyes letting the throb at his loins grow until his cock was nudging at his stomach. He smiled and ran his hand around that woefully underutilised part of his form, once more familiarising himself with the bumpy ridges running down the underside of his shaft and the thickening pulsing flesh that made it so satisfyingly girthy. His tapered tip spilled a bead of warm, sticky pre-cum and he sighed loudly. Pleasure, true pleasure, had seemed a distant memory until this morning. He gripped his hand around himself and pumped with vigour - it felt like his first time all over again. The deep throb that begged him not to stop, the lifting of his full balls as his muscles tightened and his stomach tensed up. He didn't have to worry about Rap and Rave hearing anything inappropriate, he could grunt and snort and moan all he wanted too and it was fucking fantastic! Grabbing and pulling with purpose now, he edged himself closer to climax until his thighs began to tremble, his hips bucked upwards furiously in an attempt to mate with something, anything, and his back arched. With a deep growl of triumph he pulled copious thick, milky ropes from his poor neglected dick that landed in a warm dribbly pool at his navel and he collapsed in a quivering but happy heap. His large nostrils flared as he gasped, spent. Oh fuck yes! He'd missed that so much.

He was going to wank off as much as he possibly could and that was a promise. How could a guy be expected to survive so long with a low sex drive and not go completely loopy? They certainly didn't tell you about that at College, or else half their classes would be bloody empty! 'Here's the deal, kids. You can gain untold cosmic power, but jerking off is gonna be more trouble than it's worth because your dick won't work in the Underworld'. Maybe now he'd get to have real sex with an actual willing partner. It was an undisputed fact that he was not particularly fussy neither; he'd nail anything that moved given half the chance. Guys, girls, he'd had fun with both. Just not demons. There'd not been a single one he'd met that he'd have touched with a twenty-foot pole, never mind his seven-inch one.

He idly wondered what curious creatures he would be having dealings with on this bizarre world? Back at Infernal Holy College he'd seen some unusual and rare specimens, even his hometown had its fair share of anthro people to choose from. Were there any humans here? Or other anthropomorphics like himself? He'd soon be finding out. Once he'd cleaned himself up, been for a piss and grabbed some clothes that is. What even was the time? No use looking at his watch, that was set to the Underworld. He slipped it on his wrist anyway, for the familiar feeling if nothing else. Funny how missing one little accessory out could leave you feeling not properly dressed. He slid out of the bed, albeit a little reluctantly, and padded to his bathroom. The shower had been used the night previous and he was still clean enough, so he made do with a flannel for a quick wipe around and kept his gaze low to avoid meeting his awful reflection. He wasn't ready to think about that today. He'd got enough on his plate. As he flushed his toilet he wondered where the water came from exactly, as they were in the middle of a big desert. Always a few mysteries wherever he ended up.

He remembered he had his own little kitchen space and nosed about in there, too. The tiles were cold here and he flexed his clawed toes, enjoying the sharp temperature contrast. He flicked on the kettle and grabbed his canister of coffee. Everything he needed to start the day off right: one orgasm and caffeine. Clothes! Knew he'd forgotten something. As the water boiled noisily, he dug in the largest set of drawers and pulled on his new uniform. No more stuffy shirts, ties and long sweeping capes, this was more like it; vests, t-shirts and combat trousers. Green probably wasn't his colour but he pulled them on anyway and tucked himself in, yanking the belt tight and giving his small stomach a pat. Rave was always poking fun of it, wasn't he? Well he was sure to lose it now; if the army didn't fitten him up then nothing would. He'd make sure to employ gym trainers that belonged in the World Wrestling Federation, big hulking bastards that would give Mr.T a run for his money. 'Drop and gimme twenty!' sort of thing. Mind you, he'd just drop. And expire. Again.

Coffee was drunk and actually savoured as just for once he didn't feel as though he would crumple into a depressed bundle of sobs without it. He tried to stand up a little straighter; stooping and skulking were no longer necessary for the job. He was General Warlock now. That meant a proud stance, a confident air. It was worth a try, right? Probably last right up to the point Rave laughed at him. It was going to happen. No point kidding himself. He rinsed his empty cup out in the stainless-steel sink to use again later, still desperately trying not to catch sight of his face that was being reflected back at him. Rave didn't need an excuse to laugh at him, he'd been turned into an old bugger, hadn't he? Did it serve him right? Probably. Who messed with the Underworld? Only idiots, and idiots got laughed at.

A pair of shiny, black military boots that just so happened to be a perfect fit were placed by the door and he tied them up tightly before leaving his sanctuary behind him and heading back down the stairs and past the Mess and offices towards the War room.

As before, silence rang out in the massive building. There wasn't even any dust in the air as nothing had shedded hairs or disturbed the surfaces. He strode down the long, deep green painted corridor and pumped himself up - this was it, the first day of his new career. Hoo boy! Take the bull by the horns and all that. He gripped the long, slender steel handle of the frosted double door and swung it open.

A massive blue swirly circle lit up the room in front of him. He stood, blinking, taking it all in. What kind of Stargate shit was this?! It just hung in the air, like the weird blue thing that it was. He was aware of a voice talking beside him but he was too distracted with whatever this was to pay any actual attention. It was mesmerising. Anar had become accustomed to seeing shades of blue wherever he went; he could see magic perfectly well, and sorcerous power always gave itself away with a gorgeous azure hue. This reminded him of that, but it felt different. Whatever this was, it wasn't created by any magician. Then he realised what the rippling, vertical whirlpool was sitting on top of, and he felt his stomach drop away.

A long time ago, back in the horrors of his youth, when he was a troubled teenager full of edgy angst and burdened with a hint of natural magic that made him a dangerous outcast, he'd been dumped on his uncle Mortimer's posh doorstep in the middle of the English countryside. A country estate known as Warlock Court, it had been built by a powerful distant ancestor and placed suspiciously close to the famous standing stones. It was now a working farm and most of the rooms in the castle-like mansion lay empty, abandoned and unused. Except for the lower levels where the living spaces and bedrooms were, and just two rooms up on the third floor. One of those rooms contained an old painting infused with raw magick that had given him weird dreams when he'd touched it, and the other room had been built entirely out of shiny metal with nothing but a flat slab on the floor with a matching console to the side, covered with curious writing that had looked pretty similar to Infernal but wasn't. The same flat metal slab that was now laid beneath the dazzlingly bright light that was captivating him so intensely.

No matter what Anar saw, heard, experienced or witnessed in his short but interesting life, he was always left with more questions than when he started. Especially so the moment Rap hopped out of the curious glowing circle clutching a case of AR-15 rifles.

"Maaaate!" the velociraptor grinned upon seeing him, "you're not gonna believe this-"

"What the fuck?" Anar wheezed, feeling a bit faint and dizzy and losing composure by the heartbeat.

"I did try telling him", a soft and patient voice spoke to Anar's left. The Dragon was sat at the curved table, sipping tea while surrounded by more gun storage units. He gestured to an empty seat beside him and the overwhelmed mammal took it gratefully before being brought up to speed on recent events.

"Have you ever seen this logo before, Anarchy?" He passed something over and tapped it.

Anar flapped his mouth, his grey eyes still adjusting from the bright light in the middle of the room as he scanned a worn, torn shred of booklet in front of him. Rings of blue made up a logo and the letters 'T', 'D' and 'W' sat inside. "No," he squeaked eventually. He wasn't used to being called his full name, neither. Felt like he was in trouble...

"I'd like you to imagine the London Underground, only instead of tube stations there are gates, like this one-" The Dragon gestured to the metal slab and the now-clearly-a-portal above it. "A public transport system that crosses dimensions and time."

"They're really cool!" Rap enthused, dropping the crate with the others and heading back, "there's this other Earth back here. Tons of stuff up for grabs. You should come mooch with us."

"Yeah. Great. Sure," Anar replied weakly.

The Dragon prodded at the crispy pamphlet once more, "the gates are fixed and cannot be moved. That's why I've built here, this planet is perfect for our needs and this access point was undisturbed."

"What about the other Earth in there?" he asked quickly.

"Everything is still too radioactive after they unfortunately blew each other up."

Anar raised an eye, "but it's fine to go grab this stuff, yeah?"

That query was breezily ignored, "there are, however... these..." small metal boxes were placed on the table. "Only beta tested, mind you, hence the lack of a logo, but with one you can summon Trans Dimensional Warpways as you wish. Co-ordinates go here -", he jabbed at the numerical keys, "and you hit the big button."

Another big swirly circle appeared. This one looked a bit fuzzy and wonky compared to what Rap had just used.

"Trans Dimension... what's?"

"Portals," The Dragon explained patiently. "Pocket portals." He gave Anar a moment to process this.

"Go anywhere?" he asked, hopefully.

"Anywhere," the beast agreed. "I know what you're about to ask. I don't know the co-ordinates to your home. We're going to have to do a bit of 'trial-and-error' with that it seems. I've only mapped a handful of combinations. It's all alien technology, see. But we will find your Earth eventually."

"I'm in Quantum Leap," Anar muttered under his breath, "fan-fucking-tastic. Where's Rave? I haven't been insulted in a hot minute."

"Your other friend has boldly taken one of these portables, he's currently outside bringing vehicles in," The Dragon grinned.

Anar vaguely hoped he'd run himself over in a comedic yet tragic accident in the process.

"They're both fine, both happy with their tasks," he was reassured. "They were itching to do something useful so I made them busy. Now-,"

Rap came and went again as he spoke, not glowing from the radiation yet thankfully

"- your task is to come up with a name for our army and a logo or emblem."

Anar looked at his new boss, who was still wearing his dark sunglasses and leather motorcycle jacket, "actually," he asked, "speaking of names. What is yours?'"

The Dragon opened his jaws and screeched. Anar bolted back in his chair, recoiling. Having massive ears was not always handy! He wasn't sure if that was a name so much as an impression of stepping on LEGO at two in the morning. "Dragon. Right. No problem." He contemplated having some more of those cold Budweisers and he'd only been up an hour. He gave his sore heads a shake. So they needed a name...