Vargas was studying the carvings on the West Wall.

There were many scenes--many he didn't recognize; and, looking far newer, some glowing sketches done in what looked to be magical paint or chalk.

Some of them featured Nemean.

Some of those featured... unsavory things. Gruesome deaths, mismatched body parts (primarily male-specific, though Vargas couldn't make heads or tails of these) and more. He wasn't entirely sure of any of it.

His meeting had gone well enough--he felt confident that his servants would, well, serve him well. Except, perhaps, for Palefur--he still wasn't quite sure what to do with the cat. And now he waited, watching over Nemean's chrysalis where he'd concealed it, protecting it.

He had dismissed Palefur prior to coming here, regardless; he didn't want anyone knowing Nemean's stone was here. She was too small, too fragile, and even a housecat could undoubtedly find a way to destroy her. So now he waited--waited, and paced, and peered at the stones and the walls, wondering.

Just what does all of this mean?

Imp flapped cheerfully along, glad to be back out of Tunnel K. Canis wasn't his favorite cave, but he liked it well enough; he matched its rock and bones, it was fairly dry, and the walls were nice for drawing on-

"Oh that's my art! You like it? OH, I recognize you. You were at the Trial. Over on the other cliff." Despite his brazen nature, Imp found himself lingering back, a bit, cautious at the sight of Vargas. The towering monstrosity was aligned with the Masters, and Nemean! And also, a little scary.

A lot scary.

Imp's eyes darted over the Overseer's form uncertainly, despite the permanent grin fixed upon his face.

Vargas turned at the chirps, and pushed up almost off of his forelimbs as he peered over the bones ahead, looking for his servant. As the two flying beings approached, the Overseer dropped back down.

"Ahh, Five-Seven-Nine--there you are," he rumbled. He listened quietly, glancing to look Imp over with all six acidic eyes, even as the hybrid stared back at him.

Understanding flicked through him, and one long, spiked arm shot out, his clawed hand aiming to snag Imp around the neck. He then moved to haul the hybrid down and pin him to the stone, peering down at him--but not harming him; not yet.

"You prove a useful servant, Garnet! I am impressed," he praised, and he meant it. He had only asked for locations, not asked for one of the targets to be returned to him so soon. "Now--I am taken to understand that you have been speaking blasphemy against the Masters," the Overseer went on, staring implacably down at Imp. "Explain yourself. And explain--this..." and here Vargas half-turned, using his free arm to gesture at the wall--"'art.'"

"HEY!" Imp protested, twisting and writhing--but Vargas had snatched him right out of the air, and now he was on the ground, staring up at him.

Oh, shit.

At first, he struggled, even opening his jaws and trying to bite--missing, as Vargas wasn't leaving anything in biting-range--and then bringing up desperately-scraping hind legs and battering wings with an attempt to burn the giant purple bastard. "LET ME GO! What're you talkin' about, you big ugly?!" he demanded, fear clear in his voice. "What's BLASPHEMY even!? Are you talking about my ART?! NEMEAN? She's a BETRAYER, everyone knows that. Dad says it! Grandpa said it," he added, scrabbling at the Overseer's thickly-leathered limb. He then turned, staring briefly at Garnet. "Wait, servant? What's he mean, servant? You--? DID YOU-?"

Oh, that hurt. He'd never really made friends with anyone before, and now this--his first one!--had, within hours of meeting him, betrayed him. Possibly to his death. "I--you--I LET YOU USE MY CHALK!"

When Imp fought, his limbs flaring white-hot and searing at his flesh, Vargas growled and rapidly pressed down with his other hand instead.

"CEASE YOUR PATHETIC REBELLION, WRETCH," he bellowed. "What father? Betrayer, how? Speak, or I will tear your head from your shoulders." He was annoyed, more than intent; he really didn't need Imp alive. And he already thought he had an inkling of the whole "betrayer" and "father" thing; he'd met Dragon once before, and the alligator had mentioned something of a falling-out between Nemean and Aquarian.

They looked a little similar, too--the rectangular scutes, the ridged scales, the leering faces. This one looks more like a dragon, though smaller than its father. And neither of them look like Aquarian. Or like a true dragon, really. Though--hadn't Dragon arrived with flapping wings, as well? Magical, but-...

"What secrets does your family hold?" growled the Overseer, leaning down a little closer.

Imp had very little virtue to him, but the Children of Rot had his loyalty above all. His fathers were part of it, survival was their goal and he would not betray them.

Hissing, he pressed tail and wings to stone, flailing, trying to arch his back up; his tail flung out, the new stinger seeking flesh anywhere it could find it. He felt it scrape over scale, and briefly--only briefly--puncture. All the while, he argued, debated, challenged, rebelled.

"What--FAMILY? I have no family! -YOU MEAN AQUARIAN?" He choke-laughed, still writhing beneath the Overseer's grip. "You are UGLY, you know that? I'm gonna draw YOU all over everything, too! AND SO MANY PENISES-"

This is going nowhere. Vargas felt his irritation bleed into boredom. His anger, even, at the Gembound's rebellion had faded; it was a child throwing a tantrum, and little more.

Yet-... its tail had struck home, if even shallowly; and Vargas could feel a tightness spreading in his hind limb.
"I will leave you for Master Nemean to sort out," he told it wryly; and then he pressed down, choking the air--and the blood--from Imp. It was a strange thing, though, how his front limb seemed to spasm and disobey him.

Vargas scowled, looking Imp briefly over.

It's that damn Hydra venom, isn't it? Well, it is resilient--I will give it that.