Author: Khuzdul

{oOo}

Roboute Guilliman made a note. If any Catachan regiment revolted, it was better to just order an Exterminatus against whatever planet they were on. It just wasn't worth it.

When they drew back to the cities, and 'refused to come out and play' according to a vox broadcast made on an open channel from Colonel Greiss, Catachans declared that 'they would be coming to them, in that case'. And that damnable Colonel called him, Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines and Lord of Ultramar, a 'killjoy'.

Oh, for...

Then the games started. That damn regiment must have something that made them invisible.

"What do you mean the Sixth Company is unavailable. I need them to cover the southern approach. Can't wear their armor? Wha... How can someone put itching powder in one hundred Power Armor suits in one night, without one damn sentry or security imager seeing them? Get me that damn Sergeant. What do you mean he's in the head. Oh..." Roboute rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Just... Just wash them as quickly as you can. I need that group."

The Catachans came allright. In the night. Invisible. They moved freely through the Space Marine lines, like they weren't even there. They dropped surprises, adolescent 'pranks' everywhere. Worse, the pranks were constructed out of simple stuff found in the jungle. Itching powder made out of dried poison ivy. Stink bombs made out of animal excrement and skunk glands.

Roboute Guilliman went back to sit in his seat. A BRRRAAAAPP made him pause. He got up and looked. There sat an inflated toad, now fully crushed, on his seat. He looked back at his three brothers. Persephone was cheerily waving at someone, but she immediately stopped when he turned towards them.

He sighed. He was getting too old for this shit.

And he would get them back for this. Especially Leman Russ, with that damnable grin of his. He didn't know how, but he would.

{oOo}

Epilogue:

A month later, Ultramarines and other marines were beyond utter and burning hatred for the Catachans, and starting to feel a grudging respect. The men were tenacious. They were unstoppable. They just didn't comprehend the meaning of the word "impossible".

Finally, Roboute Guilliman's woes came to an end when he woke up one day to find a cross painted on his chest, along with a single shotgun round full of poisoned flechettes and a note left on his bedside table.

The note read: "Gotcha! - Sly"

At the end of the Wargames, Roboute Guilliman stood in front of the cameras of Imperial press, and shook hands with Colonel Greiss. His smile might have looked a bit forced, while the honored Colonel's smile was more than a little smug, and the journalists resolutely ignored the incessant giggling and snickering coming from the corner where the primarches of the other three legions participating in the exercise and Senshi Saturn sat. Though people were puzzled about the uncharacteristically short and hurried debriefing and award ceremony, nobody commented on the abrupt departure of the Ultramarines primarch and his long stays in the head.

But it was noted that Colonel Greiss advised the members of the press "to avoid the municipial water supplies, and prefer the bottled water and beverages provided courtesy of the Catachan 2nd".

{oOo}