Warren slowly approached the trapped "Abyssal Beast."
He reached the blast door. A small viewing window allowed him to observe what was inside, and Curze's roars poured through that opening, thick with the stench of blood. Curze's hideous, terrifying face pressed close to the window, his eyes gleaming with madness and brutality in the darkness as he stared fixedly at the blind old man who had toyed with him.
Then the blind old man did something the Abyssal Beast could not comprehend.
He reached out with his rough, withered hand and felt along the wall beside the blast door, which was covered in grease and rust. After finding a well-concealed compartment, he pulled down a dusty mechanical lever with all his strength, then gripped a heavy emergency hydraulic wheel with both hands.
Creeeak-claaang!
Amid the teeth-grating scrape of machinery, Warren's shriveled arms displayed astonishing resolve as he turned the rusted wheel little by little. With the hydraulic system running in reverse, the blast door, weighing several tons, gave a muffled rumble and slowly rose, finally stopping high enough for one person to pass beneath it.
Curze froze.
His mind, ablaze with madness, suddenly went blank, as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. His sharp claws had already sprung from his fingertips, but they hung rigid in midair.
The prey had opened the beast's cage of his own accord?
The blast door was no longer an obstacle. Warren released the wheel and, leaning on his cane, stepped unguarded over the steel threshold into the enclosed space he would now share with the beast.
Step by step, he approached the towering, raging Primarch.
Curze stiffly lowered his head, staring at the old man within arm's reach. If he wished, he could tear this fragile mortal to