Thuringwethil parked the car outside of a rundown apartment building in LA and began slathering any exposed, dark skin with sunscreen before they got out to say hello. Sauron saw the overgrown sidewalks, the dinky pawn shop across the street, and a pair of loiterers near the front door as they approached. His mouth formed a thin line at the threadbare carpet. He let Thuring show him down a long, silent hallway to a staircase that led into the basement.

He could hear the sounds of a television from a dim rec room during their descent. The stairs opened up into a fully realized bar, with a TV showing sports over rows of different flavored alcohol and a few pool tables set up at the far end. The thing that set it apart from any other normal bar in the city was how insular it felt: everyone there had a patch, either on their jackets or their pants, of the same horned demon face.

Like some shitty biker movie from the 80's, Sauron saw a cozy place set aside where the king of the joint sprawled in an oversized armchair, his girth almost spilling out of it as he puffed on a cigar. It took all of Sauron's self-control not to roll his eyes at the two narrowed, yellow eyes peering at them from the gloom.

Thuring eyed the gang around them with casual familiarity. "Hey, boys," she called.

One of the bikers grinned. "Hey, law babe," he spouted back. "Ain't nobody died recently. What brought you back?"

"A friend." Sauron noticed her voice went higher, cloyingly sweet as she flirted unapologetically. 'Let her do what she wants,' he thought. He approached the man with yellow eyes with open contempt. "Gothmog, what is this?" he demanded.

Gothmog rose from his chair and looked down at his former peer. "Busy work," he said.

"Slacker." Sauron's eyes flickered to the cigar, the beer gut, the ugly human face. "What have you done with the millennia you've been given?"

"Given?" Gothmog barked out a harsh laugh. "This wasn't some gift, Mairon. This is punishment."

Sauron narrowed his eyes and took stock of what he saw. "You didn't even look for me," he growled. "Neither of you."

Thuring laughed nervously and appeared suddenly at Sauron's side. "Ron, love, now is not the greatest place to start a fight." She cast a sour look at Gothmog and jerked her head at Sauron. "We're a bit surrounded and you're probably tired from a long day of…"

"Save it." He slapped Thuringwethil's hands away from his shoulders. "Don't patronize me, Captain. And you—" he jabbed a finger at Gothmog, "Not either of you—not a single one of you that's left bothered to make anything useful of yourselves. You're here wallowing in a den of your own filth, and you rip money out of the weak with even less authority than you used to!" The speakeasy had gone otherwise silent. All eyes were staring at him. "I just broke Osse's trident out there in the Atlantic over his own head! You know he's only going to whine and run back to whoever that will still listen to him, which puts us on a time limit. So I'm only going to ask you once—I have a plan that I believe will bring our Master back into the world. Come with me, aid me, and I will make sure you are rewarded. Slow me down or get in my way, and I will break everything you've done before your very eyes. I hate seeing how far you've both fallen, and I will not allow it to continue."

Gothmog and Thuringwethil looked at each other. "Sir," Thuring began.

"You're right, Mairon. I didn't look for you." Gothmog thundered closer to Sauron and bent over the smaller man. "You were dead. The Third Age collapsed and Angband's forces had long ago been scattered. I remember hearing that a pair of little ones and a force of men caused your destruction, and I knew that the long, slow descent you'd been on since the Master's imprisonment had finally ended." He straightened and crossed his huge, menacing arms. "You'd gone mad, and I was happy you no longer suffered."

"Suffered? I was an animal," Sauron hissed, "Alone and predatory, stalking low beasts for sustenance. I hid by day and my thoughts were barely coherent. I pulled myself up from that to reclaim what I know is ours, and instead of a world driven by sorcery, I find men in every corner, their wills dominating the entire surface of the planet."

"And how is that bad?" Gothmog asked seriously. He pointed out his own gang of merry men. "They have guns, they have phones, they have cars. Allowing men to roam free has been the best decision any of us didn't make. They spread their own chaos, and all we have to do is harvest it." He slid a meaty hand around Sauron's shoulders and walked him to the bar. "These people here, they know who I am. I revealed myself to my chosen few and they've since pledged their allegiance to me. Now, before you protest, I want you to think about what you've just said." He looked Sauron square in the eye. "You've been gone a long time, my friend. I don't have the far-reaching desires you do, but I do know how and why you'll need my help. I do give it, by the way." He looked at Thuringwethil and gestured for them both to sit while he made them drinks. He passed two White Russians across the counter before he spoke again. "I just want to break things."

Sauron eyed him heavily. "That was a bit too easy," he said finally.

Gothmog smirked. "A few thousand years is a long time to lose your best friend," he said.

Sauron sipped and didn't answer. Thuringwethil looked away.