Eversor Assassin Temple, Holy Terra, 0 924.999.M41
Another hurtle underneath the planet of Terra had resulted in another stain of vomit on the concrete floor of the landing bay as the Callidus that was Grand Master of Assassins escorted the violently ill millennial into the Eversor temple. Unlike the others, there didn't seem to really be any sort of assassin presence - only the cyborg entities known as Servitors that scuttled throughout the facility.
Then he saw why.
Rows. Rows upon rows of stasis pods, filled with a green gellular substance that preserved humans in some of the most horrendous states he had ever seen. Many were missing arms and legs to various degrees, some having barbaric-looking cybernetic augmentations that looked sickeningly gruesome.. Many seemed to have copious amounts of damage to their faces or torsos - curled into the fetal position, looking like the rage-fueled undead of his time's horror films. He stopped in front of one pod in order to examine the information about the occupant, and what he saw horrified him.
++Unit #4432 service life: 3 years. Number of Sorties: 260. Estimated enemy deaths caused: 8,512.++
Truly the individual within the pod was a monster. The millennial could only imagine the depths of insane ferocity that had to flow through whatever mind the Eversor still had left. #4432 had copious quantities of cybernetic implants and limb replacements as well, and the damage record showed it.
++Damage reports: 7 crushed thoracic vertebrae, amputated left arm, 57 stubber and lasgun wounds, 3 cardiac arrests, 175 of 206 bones broken to various degrees of severity...++
++Biological age: 12 Terran Years++
How? How could someone take a... a not even teenager and turn them into this? He felt violently sick, and upchucked the last of what he could evacuate from his stomach onto the thick glass of the Eversor's capsule, stumbling back. If the service life was three years, then that meant... That meant that he was nine years old when he was turned into this, this thing.
"Eversors are the most murderous, the most lethal of all the Emperor's assassins. Filled with combat drugs, durable beyond belief... I once saw an Eversor who got flung from a two hundred foot building spire onto a twisted metal beam. It speared through him, but he pulled himself off of it and killed his target. Though his mind was gone, his devotion to the Emperor remained... A valiant effort, though he was unable to be saved. The explosion ensured his target was eliminated." She looked at him as he continued to stare at #4432's capsule, the shock on his face as he heard of the new level of depravity that the Imperium had reached. This... this was truly unacceptable. Even as the grey-haired Callidus tugged at his shoulder, he was still frozen in place, unable to move or even react to her grasp of his shoulder. Slowly, her hand lowered down his arm, grasping his palm and giving it a squeeze, partially bringing him back to the somber reality as he turned and followed her back to the car. He was unsure of what to say anymore, or how to react to every violation of the laws of ethics he had intentionally done his best to see preserved.
But perhaps it truly was too little, too late.
Vindicare Assassin Temple, Holy Terra, 0 925.999.M41
With the arrival at the Vindicare den, the millennial had nothing he could say - let alone upchuck. His stomach was so empty, he doubted there was any acid in there. Still, the sudden deceleration stunned him immensely beyond belief, and he wobbled a bit before standing up on his own, following the Callidus down the hallway leading to the place's entrance.
Lined along the walls were two rows. On the top row, or rack, rather, were rifles. They were massive rifles, at least the size of a musket in length, but all were very modern and high tech-looking. The bottom row was of pistols that generally resembled the rifle in overall form and function. Some of the rifles and pistols appeared to be checked out of service, and the occasional shot of extremely loud gunfire rang through the halls of the temple.
The two caught up to a woman who had her Exitus pistol seemingly aimed at a wall. The moment before pausing to tap her on her shoulder, she fired, and the small bullet went directly over the shoulder of the once frozen human. It grazed the slight outside layer of fabric of his shirt, igniting the cotton-like material which he feverishly attempted to pat down before dropping and rolling, the small blaze soon extinguished - though the remnants of burned fabric did mark some of his shoulder.
"This is Vindicare Assassin cognomen-designate LIXI. If you are not familiar with High Gothic numerals, she is designated Unit 59:1." The woman simply nodded, choosing to not further elaborate upon herself... but from the designation, the millennial knew that from this day onwards, she would always be Lixi in his terminology.
"Well, Lixi... that was a pretty damn impressive shot. No mirrors or anything... What's your secret?"
"Commanding asset will explain, tertiary asset." She spoke in a very mechanical voice, seemingly garbled by her helmet intentionally as she returned to fiddling with her weapon, adjusting it in ways he could never expect.
"She talks very formally, I apologize... Vindicares are the most skilled marksmen in the Imperium by far. They are augmented and trained to kill enemies from a distance unmatched by anyone. A single Vindicare on a hilltop can kill enemies from miles away with the Exitus rifle. Its wide variety of ammunition means that even armored vehicles are no match." Well, that certainly sounded fun - a rifle that could fuck anything and everything up, no matter how big.
"Commanding asset, primary target has escaped from our recent attempt to acquire him." The Callidus grimaced as the millennial raised a eyebrow.
"That egg-mutant thingie?"
"Worse." She grimaced. "I've had LIXI on the hunt, in concert with the Varus temple, for the rogue Vindicare known as LIIVI. We expected to have cornered him... but apparently he seems to have disappeared once more.
"The Varus?"
"Yes... We will not be visiting their temple. All they do is gather information and use it to kill the Emperor's enemies without any physical involvement whatsoever. They stay behind cogitators all day..." They were essentially the successors to Anonymous? Seemed legit. "There are the Venenum assassins as well... Master poisoncrafters. One of them was responsible for your incapacitation." A woman in a gas mask-like suit walked past, nodding. "Now that you know of the temples in question... you may go."
"Fuck, not again..." He slumped forward, finding himself to be somewhat weakened. Though he struggled to stay awake, the poison soon overwhelmed his system, leaving him in a state of unconsciousness once more.
Spaceport, Holy Terra, 927.999.M41
Wake up... The words rang through his head as he slowly lifted himself off the concrete he had evidently been left on. Looking up, he saw who the voice had come from - Dalia Cythera herself. Her robes seemed a bit drab, the little color in them sucked out by the dreary atmosphere of the underhive he had been left in. Not to mention he was hungry.
"Fuck, my shoulder..." She placed his arm over her own and swiftly, with seemingly no effort, helped him back onto his feet. "Alright... Let's get back to the ship. The two would limp along before soon returning back to his Arvus Lighter, Reri waiting impatiently for him upon his return.
"You know, for a mon'keigh who fights well, you seem to suffer the most pain out of battle." Her claw-like nails grazed over his back as he gave a soft sigh.
"All he knew was humanity." Dalia piped up, the circuit pathways embedded in her flesh glimmering and pulsating for a reason neither of the two would ever understand. "He likely wishes he could return to when that was all he knew, when he was not forced to deal with the perpetual persistence of war that fills the Imperium. Perhaps he fears that in his travels, all he has done has forged him into something inhuman, a mockery of what he once was." The millennial stayed quiet during the assessment between the two women as he let them continue.
"Or perhaps he adjusts all too well to the new world. You humans lack in technology even from what you once had during your apex - back then, we still were wielding more advanced weapons and technological innovations than anything you mon'keighs had created."
"The inspiration of the Cult Mechanicus advanced human technology over mere millennia, not millions of years."
"And what would you know of our race?" Reri snapped. "You know nothing of what we were, or what we are. Are we really so barbaric to you?"
"Ladies, I get you want to argue..." He interrupted, for the best, he felt. "But do it sometime when I'm not around. Fucking arguing and shit is why humankind back in my day had big problems, and I'm not going to let that happen. Not again. This period in time may suck ass for humanity, but I'll be damned if I let problems of the past resurface as the problems of the future." Seeing that they had been quiet so far, all that mattered was that he moved on to his next location. "Let's return to the Cryptic Retribution and gather our things. I figure our next stop should be flagship of the Imperial Navy in the Segmentum Solar... Might as well meet the Lord Commander. He does seem to be my sort of guy, after all."
Standing up and turning away, he found a cool metallic hand on his now bare shoulder. "May we speak privately?" It was Dalia, and the look on her face indicated seriousness and concern. He nodded, motioning for her to follow him into his office, shaking her head and letting her blonde locks flow more freely than they had previously. Sitting down, she exhaled before voicing her concerns.
"I have... some reservations about our visit to the Ecclesiarchy. Even to the Imperial Palace itself." She uttered clear as day. "With your... union to a Xeno, in concert with your ship having a crew-full of Hereteks, the Adepta Sororitas will immediately attempt to kill you as a traitor. If the Repentia are who come... May the Omnissiah have mercy upon us all."
"I don't see what the big deal is..." He had no clue as to the Sisters of Battle, or what the importance of such was. "If they have an issue, I'll tell them to suck it up, don't get their panties in a wad, and generally show them how to stop being insane." Clearly he had no understanding as to the depths of fervor that the Sisters of Battle underwent - they were completely mad, positive that even the slightest of punishment involved would require such exotic punishment as a Penitent Engine, or perhaps even...
"Such is my advice... regard or disregard it as you wish. But these Hereteks will rub off on you. The Sisters will never allow you deep into the Ecclesiarchy, and the Repentia will try to kill you on sight, even if you caused great harm to their greatest foe. This is a dangerous game... One in which life and limb are the currency used to wage war. Holy war."
He pondered for a moment... insane space nuns with space guns? Had the Catholic Church gone insane? Or was it coincidence? An all female order of great devotion... yet in this case, these sounded more crazed than anything. Hopefully they would be rational enough to talk to... If not, then things would go very bad, very soon.
Very soon...