First fanfic, give your thoughts and suggestions!
One Morning on the Vengeful Spirit
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! A monster of a man immediately jumped out of bed, switching off his alarm clock. Abaddon the Despoiler, the man doing so, proceeded to strip off his Marks of Chaos pajamas and wrap a towel around his enormous waist, heading for his personal shower down the hall of his flagship, the Vengeful Spirit.
Opening and walking through his door, Abaddon's two Terminator armor-clad bodyguards wordlessly saluted and bowed to their master.
The Despoiler nodded to the pair and continued on his way, walking up to a large recaf machine. Abaddon grabbed his coffee mug, a black one with the Eye of Horus on its side and text reading, "#1 Warmaster" underneath the badge.
He put the cup under the nozzle, hit a button to specify what he wanted (espresso), and quietly waited as the machine filled the mug, watching as crewmen and Marines walked by, bowing or saluting if they noticed the Warmaster.
Abaddon was still a bit sleepy after a swig of the drink, even though by normal human standards he drank a gallon of pure caffeine.
The Chosen of Chaos made it to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door, finished the recaf, undid the towel, and stepped in the shower, which turned on and warmed up the moment he walked in. It was a little luxury given to him by the ship's many Warpsmiths, and he appreciated it greatly.
After the shower, Abaddon dried himself off, wrapped the towel around his waist, stepping out to grab his toothbrush.
The brush was in an old coffee mug given to him during the days of the Great Crusade, with the old "#1 Horus Fan" still somehow written on its side after 10,000 years.
The Despoiler now hated his old Primarch, yet kept the mug anyway to keep aforementioned toothbrush in, as well as his comb and razor.
He then opened his medicine cabinet/mirror, the door silently hitting the wall. Abaddon looked for and grabbed all of his grooming implements he didn't keep in the mug, like his hair gel, shaving cream, and a few other things as he brushed his teeth.
Realizing he needed to close the door after laying the items around the sink, Abaddon grabbed the mirror and began to shut it.
Just before it clicked into place, the Despoiler froze. In the reflection, a pudgy, middle-aged man with a cigar drooping out of his smirking mouth stood in front of many, many Imperial Guardsmen, all wearing the same face the old general was, their lasguns all trained on him.
Abaddon spun around to face them, with a look of sheer horror. He was without his Terminator armor and his Talon of Horus, nor was he armed with Drach'nyen. Just a towel and a toothbrush, which dropped out of his quivering mouth and trembling hands, the only sound in the room was it hitting the floor.
He gave a good hard look at them, especially the old man. "Where have I seen him before?" Abaddon's terrified mind asked.
That's when he remembered, a few months ago at the beginning of his 13th Black Crusade. He was on Cadia, slaughtering Guardsmen willy-nilly when an Imperator-Class Titan came out of NOWHERE, destroying many of his hordes, using its oversized guns on the various Marines, Cultists, and Daemons who weren't crushed by its gargantuan feet.
All the work of a single tactical genius.
The revelation hit Abaddon the Despoiler like a Mag Train, and seconds before the general ordered the Guardsmen to fire, the Warmaster of Chaos let out a scream.
A scream of pure rage and humiliation, one that could be heard from bridge to engine room. A scream that prevailed even after the las-bolts tore through his body. The scream was but one mere word.
"CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!