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that motherfucker was too close for Threshy – he was excited. Even busted out a little dance move that would have totes impressed Britney. The early, hot Britney, natch. Not the hot mess of late-stage Britney. Threshy was full to brimming over with powerfully charged memories, that were not exactly memories, of the calfling Trevor Candly coupling with the hot Britney.
    Now that he had safely removed himself from the unexpected threat of the Dave, Compt’n ur Threshrend had a clearer idea about what had just happened topside. A Threshrend daemon, a powerful elder, had somehow constrained Hooper and his crazy ninja bitch by reaching into their minds and . . . doing something.
    It was frustrating as hell that Threshy couldn’t figure out exactly what his thrall had done, but whatever it was, that bastard Hooper had been crippled by it. Or at least hobbled. Threshy had been able to feel that through the connection to his slain underling. And that was exciting. That was worth a little victory dance.
    ‘By the suppurating sun, Threshrend, what are you doing?’ Guyuk demanded as Threshy shook his fucking tail feather.
    Then he stopped.
    He didn’t have a tail feather, just a stump.
    ‘Sorry, boss. Just had to bust a move, you know. ’Cause this Dave douche bag, I think we got his number, my man. Or, you know, man-eater.’
    And to acknowledge the moment, he indulged himself in a few seconds of celebratory twerking.
    ‘Oh yeeeaah.’
    Guyuk furrowed the scarred and leathery folds of his brow, bringing Threshy’s victory dance to a halt.
    ‘This is good, Superiorae, because it did not feel as though we had the measure of the human champion when we fled from him.’ He paused and corrected himself, ‘No, when we fled from the mere spectre of him, like cowards.’
    ‘Pfft. We didn’t flee, we just withdrew. We were like in tactical withdrawal and shit. Like in Aliens 2 , with the fucking space marines shootin’ and scootin’ . . .’
    He stopped for a moment, considering the metaphor.
    ‘Except, I guess, we’re the monsters.’ Compt’n ur Threshrend heaved a very human shrug. ‘Meh.’
    The lord commander did not appear convinced. His furious glower was enough to tell Threshy to get on with it.
    ‘Okay. Okay. So I’m up there, you know, in the Above, working my mojo. I gots my loyal thrall on the job. A full Talon of big throbbing brainiac motherfuckers feeding me like daemon CNN. And they’re totally fucking winning it, not just with the live coverage but also with the terror, amping that sweet shit up to eleven.’
    Guyuk, still clad in his field armour and mail, took a seat on his favoured rock. The old prick would never admit it, but you could tell he was feeling his eons.
    ‘Continue. I think I follow your babbling so far. From the Threshrendum you had the knowing of all the actions in which they were engaged.’
    ‘Fuck yeah. And it’s cool. They’re all doing that thing they do, latching onto the fear and shit that peeps naturally gets when they meet a monster, even a baby Hunn without a battle name. And they be cranking on the fear like Stephen fucking King. Turn the volume up! Am I right? Gimme a booyah!’
    Guyuk nodded warily, ‘The . . . booyah is given. But such is the role of the Threshrendum, minor as it might be.’
    ‘Hey, don’t harsh my mellow here, big guy. My Threshrendum, they be fucking kicking it up there. So I’m like, in the park, with you and my homes, watching my monster YouTube channels on the psychic interwebs. Are you still with me?’
    ‘Barely.’
    ‘Awesome. And we’re good, right? We got our soldiers all up in their grill for a change. Bringing the awesome, putting the fear on motherfuckers. Next thing I know, some crazy ho is stepping to one of my boys, some gnarly old Threshrend with a big throbbing head full of mad powers and she’s like BOOM! Have some of that back in yo face.’
    ‘A calfling female? Protecting its young?’ said Guyuk, recalling the pathetic