Return of an old friend

Darien had mulled it over more than enough. Clearly, Scarlet was the better evil demon overlord, and this was because he had become too lax with his life. Sure, he was pretty much immortal in any way, he could kill just about anything with a single punch. But he's still only one person, and his minions were unreliable as always.

No, now he needed to improvise. He essentially needed another version of himself. Though the last time he tried that it ended predictably ..

He knew just the sort of thing he was looking for.

In his quaint little cottage, he ascended to the second story and entered the fabled Soul Room. It was always kept dark in here, the only light emanating from a small ritual ring around a chest; His trusty Soul Trap.

He'd yet to find a better Soul Trap, though, like a filing cabinet with too many files in it, he'd started to lose track of whose souls he'd trapped in their and which he'd simply devoured. But he knew that the one he was looking for was in there.

He threw open the lid of the chest and peered in, ethereal light beaming from the inside, faces of the dead leering up at him. He swatted them away like one might do to a fly, and plunged his hand in.

It was like trying to find a particular fish among a shoal, but he remembered what their soul felt like. The other souls of the dead pressed against his hand, eager to be released from their prison.

After much probing, he found what he was looking for, and tore a dark red orb from the deepest confines of the chest. Flicking the hangers-on off of his hand back into the chest, he slammed it shut and observed the orb.

"I have need of your services once again."

He placed the orb on the floor and took a few steps back. With an outstreched hand, tendrils of purple shot from his finger tips and into the orb.

The orb slowly unraveled, growing in size and taking form. When the process was complete, the being was full. They were mostly human, apart from the set of horns adorning their head, and the black leathery wings sprouting from their back. They were knelt down, more through exhaustion than anything else.

"Why have you re-called me?"

Darien smiled wickedly and paced around his servant.

"Because i'm sick of incompetence and mindless brutality around here, and your the only thing I have that acts differently."

The figure looked up at Darien, with no small measure of disdain.

"Then why not create a different minion?"

"You can't tell me you're -not- happy to be out of that box?"

The figure looked back down at the floor, gritting its teeth

"What do you need of me?"

"What can you offer?"

The figure looked back up with a measure of confusion

"Plenty. Why?"

"I need someone to think outside the box. Think for themselves."

The figure chuckled to itself

"And that worked out well last time for me, didn't it?"

Darien folded his arms, looking down at his minion and sighed

"I'm giving you another chance, Zhacol. You would be wise to accept this offer while it still stands?"

"That i'm here shows I have no choice in the matter."

Darien grinned and gestured to the door

"I'm sure you're familiar with the grounds. My latest project is there, waiting. You see what you can do."

Zhacol stood up. Unlike Darien's other minions, Zhacol was neither taller nor shorter than Darien, being almost exactly the same height.

"And the tools of my trade?"

"Your successor has created a pair of exquisite daggers for you to use."

Zhacol nodded and made for the door. Darien barred his path briefly.

"And, before you go out there and start murdering, you will need a proper disguise. Think on your disguise wisely."

Zhacol grinned back at Darien. In a shimmer of purple tendrils, Zhacol warped his image into that of a handsome, well-groomed man. Darien raised his eyebrows at Zhacol, and nodded in silent appreciation.

"How very witty, Zhacol. Do what you must out there. Should you require anything, it is available to you here."

Zhacol scoffed

"Showing me respect? What kind of hammer blow did you suffer"?

Darien narrowed his eyes at Zhacol

"Don't push it. Now get to work."

Darien let Zhacol pass and watched him exit his cottage. He only hoped this would play to his advantage in the end. But not-so-desperate times called for radical decisions.