After dying - back on earth. I was brought forth in front of an impossibly tall being yet one that I could recognize as easily as my parents, yet, as one that I couldn't remember.
Something that simply transcended my imagination.
He gave me two choices - pass on, or help him, and I didn't feel like going into heaven, or hell. So I decided to help, then he gave me a ticket, it wasn't golden, it wasn't bronze, nor a precious metal.
But red, like I was going to see a movie in a theater, yet, I felt an immense feeling of pressure spreading all around me. I remember what the golden being said before I faded away.
"Think of a great hero"
It stunned me for a moment but a moment was all it took for anyone's imagination for it to work its magic in my mind. I thought of great heroes in humanities' time both real and fantasy.
From Alexander the Great, Liu Bu, Julius Caesar, Ghandi, George Washington, to Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Wonder Woman, Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Kratos, Goku, Naruto.
So many figures, so many names, I thought about them all. Not their principles, not their techniques, not even their looks, but their power. I thought about how powerful they are, about how with that power everything always seemed right, about how they changed history with their actions.
Then after that I thought about why the golden figure wanted me to think about this, the area around me being drowned in that of darkness.
"Rise" a deep voice, everywhere and nowhere, it came with a presence that was downright overwhelming, in one that wasn't good, wasn't bad, but one that was an overwhelming feeling - but of duty.
Duty so resolute that not even humanity back on earth could ever rise and meet the pure weight behind the voice. The darkness gave way to warmth of that equal to one of a heater turning on a cold night.
"Rise, son of Russ" the voice started again "For I am in need of a hero" the voice seemingly confessed its desire just before the warmth exploded as the darkness came to life with a golden light.
Before consciousness gave way to the exploding light and I felt like I was drifting.
Waking up was painful, breathing - even more so, the thundering of machine gun fire and the soul shattering landing of missiles that couldn't be far, the air filled with ash, smoke, and the mistakable smell of blood.
Looking down I found my hands covered massive black armor, my hands felt light yet heavy, the armor had dents and seemingly scars onto the armor, on my right arm was that of a chain wrapped around it with seemingly practical ease and yet it looked to seemingly fuse with the armor, for I cannot find the end nor beginning.
I then reached up to my face with these armored hands to that of a helmet, or one that… felt like it, it was even harder to explain, as it felt like my body had an exoskeleton of which I could feel all of it. I could feel my body underneath the armor, then I could feel the armor outside - a second skin.
I breathed again, this time the sounds of gunfire brought me back from my own concerns, and I started to look around, from memories that weren't my own I knew where I was.
The Hive world of Armageddon, one that housed billions upon billions of lives in its toxic smoke and crushing weight of duty and souls, the reason why I was here was apparently I am a member of the Deathwatch, originally one of the Space Wolves.
I was only forty and I hold the rank of scout, the only reason I became a Deathwatch member was because I showed promise to a particular inquisitor named Ravenor, and that I passed selection with more than flying colors.
Armageddon was currently under assault of that of Orks, under the Warboss named Darktooth, with his Waaaagh unleashing its terrible might into the hive world, and the Ordo Xenos sent multiple kill squads out along with the planetary defense, with a full chapter of Salamanders arriving in a weeks time.
Rubble covered the surroundings, as that of the remains of the Thunderhawk I was riding with was hit when we went down, blood pooled from an arm sticking out of the ground that showed another Deathwatch's Astartes' arm poking out, a fallen space marine; or rather now my brother in all but in blood.
Trailing down and following the blood my eyes landed on that of a hammer, one that was easily recognized by my eyes. A Thunderhammer, one that was as scarred as my armor but one that was no doubt needed.
Standing up took far more effort than I was comfortable enough to admit. Be it just me being stubborn or was it my newfound power inside, admitting standing up took effort made something inside me… bristle in irritation.
I stomped forwards, suddenly being now around 8 ish feet tall made my depth of view seemingly flipped over. My feet didn't make cracks in the ground due to my weight, it didn't need to - the sound alone negated any and all need for stealth.
'Well, there goes stealth' I thought this as I feel down to one knee just before the Thunderhammer, I fell to one knee because I didn't want my hand missing the Thunderhammer due to my depth of view being wack.
My right hand found the grip of the Thunderhammer, it didn't spark with the power field that it came with, at least not immediately. Only when my grip solidified did it spark, then I stood, staring at its markings. My memories from this life found the religious markings and other heraldry.
The regular double headed eagle that symbolizes the Imperium of man down to the purity seals that seemed to be stuck to the hammer in the middle. It brought a foreign part of my mind at ease but also the part that didn't belong to this universe was curious on what they meant.
I twirled the hammer in my right hand before I lifted it over my shoulder, it felt at home by my side. Looking ahead was that of blackened pillars and that of a hallway that turned left, the sounds was war outside didn't die down from my sudden appearance in this reality.
Which suddenly realized where I was I was brought to the fear of the Warp, of Chaos, did it know who I was? Did the Chaos gods know me? What I am? Where I came from? These questions alone welded me to my spot as I stared down at the broken and bloodied floor.
A missile landing stopped me from my questioning, and the realization of everything finally coming into view of both minds. Astartes and human were at odds both spiritually and mentally, that was good, I needed that.
I wanted to stay human.
I breathed in, the sound amplified by the box in my armor, I needed to figure out what I wanted to be here, who I am.
So I thought, I could do what I was told, fight for was seemed to be a dying galaxy, for a dying race, to eventually fall to that of thrusting gods.
"Think of a great hero" those words came back to me like a slap.
Hero.
Does the Imperium need a hero? Who am I kidding, of course they do. But they don't want one, they just want to survive, not hope for a better tomorrow - for that's heresy, it's hopeless.
Hero.
Inquisitions, Xenos, Cults, Daemons, Comissars, Orks, so many, so many that just want to survive, be it turning to chaos just so it'll either be fast or so they'd get power, power to survive, power to control their fate.
Hero.
So what will I be, I can't forgive myself if I just do what I'm told, to just kill, I'm just one man yes, but one man has changed so much in so many cultures, in so many different wars; my mind felt heavy and numb at the same time.
I'm being nonsensical.
Nobody asked for a hero, nobody asked for hope, nobody asked for anything without giving up their soul in return. For this is the future, where there's only war.
I breathed in, for it's a shame, a shame that I was never from the future and that despite no one asking me, despite no one demanding me to, I decided.
I'll be the hero, not a saint of the Emperor, not his extension of his will, not the Ruinous Powers' chess pieces. I'll be the one man, the one being that will change history by doing one thing.
Actually winning.
Not giving the imperium Pyrrhic victories, or Martyrs to forget under bureaucracies. It'll be something that has been foreign to the imperium since the time the Emperor walked.
I finally stood up.
"Think of a great hero" I spoke. My voice was that of a Swedish accent, seemingly having the accent of that of a Viking, the voice was deep, one not yet marked by the weight of duty but rather of one that held power.
The heroes of old that brought hope to their people, I wouldn't simply be added to that list - I will ascend them, heroes become heroes because they died, saints become saints because they died. I needed to evolve into something new.
I will be their hero.
———————————
Sergeant Maggs wasn't in a good spot, from blood and mud covering to, his left ear seemingly constantly ringing, he's lived through only one planetary assault, and that alone was more than enough for his mortal life.
He wasn't blessed like the God-Emperor's Angels' but rather he felt cursed, his second year of service and his second planetary defense, Emperor willing he'll see through this one like the last.
His lasgun slammed down into the railing of his perch overlooking the Orks Waagh, it wasn't like a sea of green but rather a sea of visible violence and promising pain.
He didn't yell, didn't need too, the lasgun screamed for him, it's red laser found home in Ork shoulder then one's gut a mere second later, he didn't even need to aim, it was practically a guaranteed hit.
"Fight! Fight! Fight you, damn dogs!" Comissar Lorrick barked out, the visage of his face was scar tissue than normal tissue, but the hardened features of that of the Comissar commanded that of nearly ten thousand imperial guards.
This number only fell to him due to the Colonel placing his life to the outer layer of the defense, and when the outer layer failed and fell, the Colonel went through his words, ending himself before the Comissar.
If this was a good or bad thing has yet to be revealed to everyone but with the green skins and their overwhelming size and power pushing forwards has yet to properly affect them as the psychic energy from the Ork's Waaagh was overwhelming, one that wasn't one of power but of inevitably of death.
"Fight, show the God-Emperor your faith!" Commissar Lorrick gave his regular rallying cry, it worked, it always works, but against the unrelenting green tide, faith falters, and when faith falters, Xenos wins.
Then the doors behind them started to groan with an undeniable movement of it being opened as more officers and even more imperial guards came forth as a new barrage of bullets and lasgun fire.
Sergeants Maggs' sight and ears were nearly overwhelmed with that of pure warfare, the area has transcended from a battle to that of a full blown war. The place where hope dies, martyrs are born, and despair lingers like a poison that won't go away.
Sergeant Magg's stayed where he was, seven days was alll they had to held before His angels descend to grant the salvation that their devotion deserved, and running away only grants them a traitors' death.
Frak grenades were thrown overhead with reckless abandon, for it didn't matter where they landed, they would hit. Planetary defense guns rang out over head, as they aimed for vehicles that the Orks made that by all rights shouldn't fly.
But the Orks flew anyways.
Sergeant Maggs' left hand cramped as holding his position for only minutes and having his barrel glowing red hot wasn't a sign that he was fighting, then nothing was.
This war was bleak, but he's survived the Tyranids before, then he could survive this green tide of violence. Sergeant Maggs gave a silent thanks to the emperor for not allowing the Orks' horrid weaponry to hit him.
"Who's in command here?!" A Commisar, different from Commissar Lorrick approached him and his squad. The commisar was male, had one organic eye and the other was bionic; both of his arms were mechanical and his dark coat seemingly bled into the ground he stood upon.
"I am, Sir!" Sergeant spoke as he turned fully and saluted.
"Good" the Commisar looked him up and down "I am Commissar Corvus and I am assuming command of you and your squad"
"Sir!" Sergeant Maggs spoke in acknowledgment as he silently swallowed, this will either be a suicide charge or a flank; either or will result in his and his squads deaths.
"A planetary gun has gone down, you and your squad will get it back up" the Commissar pulled out his laspistol, his power sword hung loosely by his side.
"Follow me! For the Emperor!" Commissar started to lead and Sergeant Maggs had no choice but to follow, be it for good or for worse, it was no longer his choice, Emperor willing he'll at least get back to the front lines.
————————————
Walking through these halls which were more like a maze is tiring; the armor which I had a further look at was that of pitch black and was bulky, but on my frame I felt nothing, in fact it felt like I was weightless.
As if I could jump, and never come back down. The armor held purity seals on the forearms and shoulders - or at least the points of the armor I could see.
Looking at my memories, or rather the memories of the Astartes I took over, I did my best to catalog the different potential Orks I'll come across from the Boyz and all their different versions of themselves.
Either way, I can't help but think that I won't make it past this planet, but I couldn't give in as despair was that of Nurgles' domain. I hate Nurgle.
So now I'm walking through endless tunnels with no way out, and where shadows were silk in areas I couldn't see, and I was more than fine with that. The bricks that made the hive section I was in croaked a small whine of pain underneath my weight.
It wasn't like I was looking forwards to whatever the grim dark that this horrid future holds but neither was I against it, for I know what I must do.
Die or kill.
I inhaled slowly, my vox amplification picked it up, and it sounded like a million voices trying to corrupt the air in front of me. Be it anxiety or something else, I found my mind shaking, my body seemingly incapable of shaking as doors automatically opened before me.
Lights shone through the cracks and windows of the hive section I was in, the ceremite buildings seeming croaked under the assault of the Orks, as explosions rocked the area I was in and red lights started to blare, giving the area a sense of unfamiliar dread.
I exhaled ever so slowly, my hidden dread slowly being drowned out by the rising sound of gunfire, no longer was I being met with the distant rumbling and after effects of such horrors; instead I will be facing them.
My breath halted as I thought back once again to fantasy and real heroes, I wanted to be them, to give this broken, horrid, terrifying Imperium something even more dangerous than that of what chaos gods could even give.
Hope.
I inhaled one last time, my brief time of peace was needed when the last door opened and light, both terrifying and beautiful assaulted my eyes, I didn't wince from it nor did I act like it wasn't blinding.
Instead my mind was brought to a horror that could barely be put into words; a mass of green tide clashed down below, massive titans that shot failing missiles but nevertheless landed in its intended place.
The massive war cry was that one with every single Ork made my soul seemingly shake the deafening 'WAAAAAAGH' from every single mouth of every single Ork brought a new and terrible feeling, I twisted my hand that carried the Thunderhammer once, then twice.
Nervousness clung to that of my appendix, and if another Adeptus Astartes were near me they'd easily be able to tell that something with me wasn't right.
Movement; closer than anticipated caught my eye as I looked at a railing of rubble that only went down, before I saw green. Orks in fact, Boyz both tall and small, none of them actually small; but rather muscular, around the height of an average male, but I am no longer average.
I am a space marine.
"Da biggest scrap!" One of them pointed at me as he raised a rusty blocky sword over its head, and I felt the cold air release from my mouth as I stared them down.
"Git da hummie!" Another one barked out with its yellow teeth disgustingly protruding.
The Thunderhammer seemingly teeming with a desire to taste that of Ork blood, I hesitated, in this grim dark universe I who from another time and place had a kindness that simply didn't exist in this world.
'I will not deny what needs to be done' I slowly spoke in my mind 'but neither will I ignore who I am fundamentally' Be it weakness that forced me or compassion from a different reality I spoke.
"Turn around, or else" the Swedish accent spoke in Gothic in a voice, in a language I simply had no knowledge a mere hour ago of, I spoke it none the less.
I was met with laughter even as they ran towards me, as if my words were nothing but dust before them. I knew it was futile, but even then; I know I couldn't do it without forgiving myself.
"Then" I started as I twirled the Thunderhammer in my hands as I felt something in me surge in anticipation, every hero had a quote, I wanted one as well, but before I could think it over my lips and damnable voice started before my mind "I WILL FINISH WHAT THE PRIMARCHS STARTED"
I moved, before the Orks could even retaliate in any meaningful way I was before them, or at least the closest one to me, and in a devastating arc the Thunderhammer came down onto the Ork.
The Ork for all that it was, a bundle of muscles and visible violence seemed to squawk whether it was fear or realization of its incoming end is up for debate. Then unceremoniously, a shower of gore and fungal bone a single scream came to the conclusion of an Ork Boy life.
Then, like a sudden green light for traffic the rest came, a pure tidal wave of pure green came towards me and I couldn't help but think that the first one was pretty easy.
—————————————
The area opened up to that of war once more the Commissar leveled his laspistol and shot an incoming Ork as the rest of the imperial guard squad following him took their stances and unleashed their fire.
A hail of red flame spat out of their weapons, each taking a chunk of green flesh, a bit of a tooth, or even a lucky beam took off a limb. They weren't that of space marines but with their numbers and their discipline they could take them out.
Or at least Sergeant Maggs hoped they could; but hope in this universe is a cruel tool of which isn't the Emperors' as such, hope is heresy.
"Come men! Show these Orks the Emperors' wrath!" The commissar rallied once more; which in reality wasn't needed as the squad he acquired is currently giving all they could.
The barrels of each of their lasguns were magma red, each one sizzling in the toxic air of the hive worlds' atmosphere; the sizzling sound of cooking blood underneath the Ork's skin was that of holy bells tolling in that of the Commissar's ears.
The smoke caused by the barrage of the lasguns' assault slowly dissipated into nothingness as the rumblings continued, the Comissar didn't let out, with a wave of his hand in a wordless command they fanned out, slowly walking through the smoke.
The sound of the Orks' WAAAGGH was still fresh in their minds; how couldn't it be? For it is omnipresent, especially here on Armageddon.
The steps ahead lead to the main building holding the planetary defenses; no doubt sabotaged by a particularly scary Ork, or worse, a traitor.
"Let us-" the Commissar was interrupted by a smashing of the wall, the holy wall that held murals to that of saints and to the emperor broke as a rather large Ork busted through, even when its back was facing them.
The Ork staggered back a few more steps before it tumbled onto its back and rolled onto its feet and through the smoke came that of a hulking figure, black was its color except that of a flowing torn cape that hung more like a curtain to its hulking frame.
Its form was covered in that of blood, with a crackling bloodied Thunderhammer in its right hand, a skull and crossbones seemed to be sealed, not welded nor a part of the armor onto his chest. And its helmet was that of black as well, with glowing red eyes and that of a rebreather.
It was one of HIS angels, his angel of death.
A space marine.
"Yous a strong one hummie" the Ork spat out a tooth but gave out a smile, one of yellow and more akin to that of sharp blades rather than teeth "this 'bout ta be da biggest scrap e'ver!"
The angel said nothing only continued to walk through the hole as he raised his Thunderhammer in wordless contempt.
"Suffer not the Xenos that lives" the vox amplified voice was that sent chills down the spine of every except the Ork, it seemed detached from even the pure purging of the Xenos, as if instead of carrying of the Emperor's will the angel instead spoke as if he was commencing the routine that requires the completion of a particularly annoying chore.
The Ork bellowed and swung its mechanical claw only for the angel to duck underneath it and slam its left fist into the kidney, then without losing momentum slamming the top of the Thunderhammer into the jaw of the Ork.
This seemed to stun the Ork as blood and further teeth flew out before the Angel found its foot directly into the Orks' stomach forcing it further back.
The angel twirled the Thunderhammer in its right hand, its damning weight seeming less than weightless in the angels' hand before he grabbed it with two hands.
In that moment, in that single moment it felt as if reality was witnessing something fundamentally wrong, as if only the Ork and the Angel had dominion over the planet as if all other sounds were rendered naught as they faced each other.
Then the Thunderhammer sang, it sang as it flew in an arc towards the Orks' head in a speed that not even the eyes of the mortals nearby could see, and that of the Orks' could barely see. In the next moment the Ork's head was rendered into a fine red mist, its fungal nature and war built body couldn't handle the sheer power of the angel.
Then the angel turned towards them, bloodied, vengeful, and absolutely terrifying. Sergeant Maggs forced his eyes down, should it offend the Angel.
"Name your allegiance" the Angel demanded, its voice was colder than that of the Commissars' endless executions.
The commissar spoke first "M'lord! 137th planetary defense, underneath the eternal dominion of the God-Emperor" Commissar Corvus saluted as the rest knelt.
Surely the angel would assist them correct?
—————————
My hands shook, be it from me recoiling from the pure shower of blood and violence I forced myself out of but suddenly finding the imperial guard before along with a commissar wasn't on my list of things to find.
"Good" I started out slowly "my Vox communication has been destroyed; I will be following you until my command retrieves me" when in doubt offload leadership to someone else entirely!
The commissar froze, maybe he didn't hear me? Or maybe it was the fact the 2.4 meter abomination of pure violence asked him to lead, or just perhaps the sheer statement rooted to Commissar in place. After staring at the slack jawed Commissar for about five seconds I changed my mind.
"Nevermind" I spoke, sighing "what is your original objective?" I asked as the Commissar blinked twice.
"W- we were attempting to get the planetary defenses back on after the foul Xenos have attacked it" the Commissar struggled seemingly rebooting in real time before me.
I nodded once "good, we will turn on the planetary defenses and aim the guns down" I spoke a flicker of an idea in my mind.
"My lord?" The Commissar questioned the plan.
"Tell me Commissar" I started "what would happen to Orks if, let's say, an imperial planetary weapon meant to strike down heretical craft started to shoot down at xeno scum that are on the ground"
Almost immediately the Commissar understood my vision "they'd… they'd be open to a devastating attack" he muttered most likely thinking it was too quiet for my enhanced hearing.
"Correct" I nodded "guardsmen, prepare yourselves" I spoke as I stepped past the Commissar in only a single step. "Oh and Commissar"
I called getting the Commissars' attention once more "when you get a chance, vox Inquisitor Ravenor. I, Agnar Wolfbreaker still live, the rest of my squad do not; he and the Heretic Slaughterer should still be in orbit."
I said this as the Commissar followed after me and the squad, who I counted which were a little less than forty Guardsmen that started to bow at me, which in all honesty I felt a bit miffed at.
"Do not bow towards me, we're in hostile territory." I'd rather not get shot by a sniper "besides I have yet to do much to earn your respect besides my natural strength" I said as I walked towards the building that had the planetary defense guns.
Even from this distance I saw the barrels pointing out of the tower that housed it. If the warships back on earth held massive guns, this dwarfed it and made it seem like small arms fire.
Each end of the barrels was the regular size of the smaller battleships that the US Navy had, if each wheel could tear the Orks' ships out of orbit then the damage on ground units would be beyond catastrophic.
It'd be apocalyptic.
I had to surpass a smile, even if they couldn't see it, something told me it wasn't worth smiling yet. I rolled my shoulders, my mind rolling with memories that aren't mine, doctrine I knew to the letter yet I rejected, and at the heart of what I knew only one thing was true.
I was different.
I wasn't just a man, and something deep inside me also said I wasn't just a space marine - I felt further, more yet incomplete something in me didn't complete fully. It feels like a fog is over what I could truly do, and that felt grating.
"Guardsmen, let us get those guns back online, and then we will destroy these xeno scum" I spoke as I steeled myself for an actual objective, not just aimless wandering.
I got a bunch of 'ayes' and 'lord' from them of which I mostly ignored as I continued forwards as the psychic power of the Waaaagh down below seemingly assaulted us all at once.
"Do not falter men!" The Commissar barked out despite the grimace of invisible weight on him as well.
"Da's a space marine!" Orks crested over the top of the stairs and descended down, my eyes categorizing the different types. From Squigs, Gretchens, to regular sized Orks to an occasional Nobz.
I felt a small chuckle from my throat beginning to bubble before I forced it down "firing line now!" I commanded.
The guardsmen stood beside me, some crouching down standing as the lasguns let out a fury that words could barely be put into words. A wave of a red ocean of plasma that erased the first few charging ranks of Orks, but it was painfully clear that with their overwhelming mass and amount of Orks that the Guardsmen couldn't keep up.
So I charged, wordlessly. No yell, no prayer to the Emperor, not even a curse to the Orks, just silence. Within fifteen steps I met the Orks head on with a brutal swing from my Thunderhammer.
If Orks were meant to be a being built for war then whoever built them did it wrong, as the frost swing from my Thunderhammer erased five or so Orks from existence into that of pure red gore.
Another wave of red plasma came from the guardsmen behind me as I brought my Thunderhammer back into another arc of pure metallic fury, the Thunderhammer came down onto the horde like a scythe into wheat.
The Orks broke onto me like waves onto rock; it was like an unstoppable force and immovable object met, and the result was bone, guts, and death.
"Hummie! Da biggest scrap!" A rather large Ork, a Nob, came forth slapping several Squigs and Gretchens away as he made his way to me "time for a good Krumpin'!!"
I ignored its challenge as I prepared for the Thunderhammers' decent onto the Nob with more than righteous fury, but rather an expectation for the Nob to be crushed within a few strikes.
I charged forth simply stepping through and onto the smaller Orks killing them as easily as a wrecking ball. The Nob met me with a laugh and a power claw of sharp rusted metal on its right arm.
I didn't mindlessly attack like the Orks do, or even bloodlusted Space Marines do, I ducked, letting the swipe of its sharp talons fly over me, and I thrusted the top of the Thunderhammer into its jaw causing the Nob to stumble back with a yell.
I didn't let up, putting the Thunderhammer into both my hands I slammed it down with a force that was undeniable fury, an overhead strike that slammed down onto the Nob's head. The force was so strong, so absolute, that the Nob's head was crushed and killed in two strikes.
It was effective and strangely out of place, something inside me told me that he should've been stronger, but I had no time to think about it, lest I'd be swarmed. I blinked once before the Thunderhammer sang out in an arc once more as its terrifying fury made a tsunami of blood and gore.
It wasn't long, it was short and brutal; the wave of Orks were rendered naught in but blood and gore that left a strong smell of iron in the air as I slowly looked around, blood covered me like a waterfall, most of the guardsmen survived seemingly only losing only a few unlucky ones.
A little over thirty.
Something uncomfortable inside me stirred, seeing the blood of Orks did nothing to me, like seeing a sidewalk on the side of a road; but human blood, or rather dead human bodies made me unusually uncomfortable, a slight twinge of anger and a dash of despair flashed in me before it was quelled with a ruthless efficiency.
"Guardsmen, we've no time to mourn the dead; worst will await us should we stall further" I spoke, my vox grill making my voice slightly distorted.
Grim determination met me; it wasn't that of one that accepted their comrades' deaths, but rather one that already understood it, one that accepted it and they moved forward faster than the time I needed to fully understand it.
My footsteps quickly fell with them, then exceeded theirs. The air tasted of both blood and rusty metal, the constant sound of soul shattering war surrounded us as we arrived at the doors towards the orbital defenses.
"Why is the door not opening?" I asked as the Guardsmen pressed buttons multiple times for several minutes.
"M…my lord, the machine spirit refuses to answer" a female guardsman stuttered out, hands shaking over the controls.
"What of the tech priests?" I asked, no doubt one will answer right?
"Get vox communication up!" The Commissar barked out.
A guardsman was already moving before the Commissar finished his order, the eyebrows furrowed as he was attempting vox communication.
"Enough" my patience already broke and I exhaled "I will not wait for a mechanicus' attempts to please his Machine God" I spoke as I walked up to the door.
"My lord?" The Commissar questioned as my fingers of my left hand touched the crevices between the two doors.
I dropped my Thunderhammer before I wedge my hands between both doors before I separated, strength that I didn't know I had or one that I simply summoned came forth as the doors screamed out in perceived pain.
The doors sparked around the floor as I held them open unapologetically. The guardsmen to their credit didn't hesitate to go underneath my arms and enter the building, when I noticed that all had passed through I reached back and grabbed the Thunderhammer and passed through the doors, thousands of pounds closing shut behind me with an unapologetic force.
I walked forwards before I felt a force tug behind me and as I looked back I realized a bit of red cloth had torn from my cloak. I turned back ignoring it as I passed through multiple guardsmen, the building was massive, with chains going up to the ceiling, crackling lightning.
Murals of machines and servitors covered the walls from head to toe, the floor was a mix of solid rock and a religious walkway. Before us was that of a being more machine than man in its left hand was that of a staff of metal, wearing a cloak of red, whirling eyes of machine for its head and a backpack of unidentified machines. A stench of iron and sacred incense forced its way into my nose as I winced in a brand new sensation.
"How dare you! Under what authority do you have to step into the sanctuary of the Omnissiah?!" The tech-priest screamed out in a mix of binary curses.
"Mine" I spoke with a bit of hate in my voice, I didn't even know I spoke it with such hate until a mere heartbeat I said it.
"Yours? You have no authority!" The Tech-priest accused point a finger "I am Magos-"
I cut it off "why are the guns not firing?" I asked and for about three heartbeats the tech-priest now a magos faltered.
A whirl of binary assaulted everyone's ears with consent as he slammed the butt of his staff on the ground "this!… this is an outrage! You force your way into the Omnissaiah's sacred place, speak disrespectfully and dare to make demands of me?!"
I exhaled slowly as I felt fury rising in my blood. Maybe it was gene-seed, maybe it was my personality or I hated this man before me.
"I do not make demands" I spoke slowly before I exhaled a growl that came out of my throat accidentally "I never do… I only make commands, why do the guns not fire?" I asked again more slowly.
The magos regarded me for a mere moment before he let his pride fall a bit just like I did "treachery does"
I frowned, it wasn't noticeable but I understood what the magos truly meant "chaos" I spoke as the guardsmen tensed and shifted, even the Commissar swallowed.
"Indeed, the machine spirit is silent only reciting heretical texts not apart of any of our scriptures that we have" Magos' voice broke down in binary before he spoke up his mechanical voice not filling any hope within the guardsmen.
"I have broken most of it down, but the machine spirit will not come to reason" the Magos turned towards a massive block of moving metal, pistons hurt the eyes as they were moving in ways that hurt to understand.
"Have you tried turning it off then on again?" I asked quicker, the words a more snark than an actual suggestion.
"No" the machine man spoke as he made more binary noises, and for a few breaths nobody moved.
"Are you going to try?" I asked.
The magos answered in a way that seemed like a bit of anger "no!" He barked out.
"The machine spirit does not need to be turned off or on! It needs rites, incense, and prayers before chaos takes hold!"
"Do you know what type of corruption takes hold?" I asked more from curiosity rather than from a place of suggestion.
"No" the magos looked at me as if regarding me, looking at me for something "until the rites of cleansing the gun will not fire"
I exhaled in frustration "then our journey was for naught" I was upset, honestly I expected something like a generator break or even a broken fuse, not chaos taint.
"You are Deathwatch, yes?" The magos spoke up as he somehow got a candle of incense from… somewhere, all while several servitors and servoskulls floated from up top towards him.
"Indeed, underneath Inquisitor Ravenor" I nodded.
The magos started to prepare a rite as binary rang out again "have you contacted the Inquisitor?"
"No" I answered honestly "vox communication broke"
"I will contact him for you; so you'd remove yourself from my sanctuary" the magos then started his rite as the building shook from the Waaagh outside, attacking once more.
I inhaled, meeting with the inquisitor wasn't something I was looking forwards too, I couldn't explain my sudden personality change at all; let alone explain any of my actions except for 'I felt like it'
"Magos can the guns hit ground targets?" I eventually asked after several minutes of silence.
"Yes" the magos rumbled as he now moved towards the glowing green console with an invisible scrutiny that I somehow saw.
"Then after cleansing it… shoot it towards the Warboss, killing the Ork will sow discord through their ranks; we'd be able to pick them off easily" I spoke with a smile forcing its way onto my face.
"Yes that… is the idea" the magos spoke distractedly, but there was little I could do, as I realized something absolutely horrifying and utterly detrimental.
I cannot read Gothic.
Binary wasn't easy either, even if it was a bunch of ones and zeros; looking around I saw murals of a golden radiant figure that when describing, words will simply fail.
Underneath him stood machines, men, and shadows that seemed to recoil away, it was clear who it was- the Emperor.
Meta knowledge flooded my mind, or at least the little I know, I knew he didn't want to be a god, but forced to be one out of sheer pragmatism or of need of the Imperium.
I looked back at the guardsmen who were kneeling and praying, offering murmurs of words that I barely heard. I wasn't going to pray, he wasn't a god, nor was he someone I could believe would want my faith, so instead I walked up to the door that leaves to the exit.
"My lord!" The commissar walked up to me with a look of a somewhat of a smile.
"What is it?" I simply asked, seemingly cold as the fire of combat completely faded from my voice.
"My lord reinforcements; Space wolves have entered the sector" my eyes lit up, impossible to notice for anyone.
"What of the Salamanders?" I asked curious.
"They were diverged after the Space Wolves were closer, more angels are descending" he smirked "the God-emperor smiles on us today"
"Who descends? Do you know?"
"Aye M'lord: Logan Grimmar, he brings his entire company the Champions of Fenris behind him!" The Commissar actually smiled, fragile, cold, and yet seemingly somewhat happy.
"The Old Wolf comes…" my voice spoke before my mind could stop it.
"M'lord?" He asked just before the world became that of pure red as alarms blared out.
"Magos! What have you done?!" I screeched out as I faced him upon his dial.
"Nothing!" He defended himself "but… the warp… CHAOS!" He screeched before the room exploded with fire and force, slamming me back into the doors which, with the force I flew, tossed me through the doors as I skipped on the floor, the cold ground unforgiving in its wordless weight.
My vision swam with that of sounds of increased warfare happening around me as explosions rocked the hive I was on. The sky broke in a crying red as an orbital bombardment slammed down into everything.
I stood to a knee looking out onto the battlefield below a screeches of cries of heresy came forth as my eyes scanned down below, a tide of imperial colors, Ork green, and Khornes' daemons slamming on the ground with glee.
A fear clenched at my chest before I fully stood up and held the Thunderhammer with both of my hands as the pure heat from my mouth came out, and steam bellowed out of my vox grill.
"Traitors" hatred came forth from my mouth before any words did, and it surprised me, surely this bodies' previous memories didn't carry that much hate for chaos.
Then memories came forth from when this universe was fiction and the horrible things chaos does to the regular people of the imperium…
My body involuntarily shuddered as I whispered to myself "there's only war" I spoke the motto of Warhammer 40k with a distant sadness.
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The warp was a cascade of colors, of pain, of pure suffering. Made during the Great War in heaven in which houses the great Ruinous Powers; The Chaos Gods who exist both inside and outside the warp reveled in the warring galaxy of which their master crafted schemes have made.
But something happened, the Anathema has done something downright impossible: it has pulled something from nothing, and with it now through the warp it has landed in a place it wasn't supposed to be in.
Daemons with no master cried out, in an instant they felt an infinity of pure shame, of pure pain. Then like an peerless actor the emotion stopped, in which the Daemons returned to normal, but their thoughts were all the same, something has entered and it has affected them so heavily that it caused them to cease their actions and force them to acknowledge its existence.
Like a show of dominance.
All at once the great and infinite schemes of Tzeentch seemingly broke and remade themselves instantly, the action making The Changer of Ways blink in confusion. The impossible geometry shifted in ways that made sense as greater daemons grimaced, feeling as if they saw something that caused them slight irritation.
The blood rivers on Khorne hiccuped, seemingly dried up before they existed again, Khorne's eyes shifted to the rivers which no longer boiled, the infinite wails of anger and violence ended, causing a mountain of suffocating silence before they began again.
Nurgle felt rot and despair end almost instantly before it came again, the disgusting god frowned, its grotesque form teared its eyes away from its concoction of gross liquefied disease filled cauldron and gazed around in paranoia.
Slaanesh froze in perceived emotion, for once in its existence it felt something other than pleasure and instead it was a tense feeling - as if its father came home and it had failed a test. The infinite realm of excess seemingly ran out of its infinite before it refilled.
The warp felt something that day; it wasn't fear but something absolutely crushing something beyond its scope, and for once it didn't blink, it looked away.
All the while the Anathema smiled ever so faintly.
The Great Game had its table flipped over and then reset before everyone and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do.