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The first sound that he heard when he awoke from his long slumber was the sound of distant explosions. And yet he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to witness the war that he could tell was raging. He was ashamed, deeply and almost cripplingly. So great was his shame at the actions of his past that more than a little of his mind wanted nothing but death. He could do it, he figured that with the sheer power of his Primarch will he could simply stop breathing. All that had passed through his mind in the few moments since his awakening. His awakening? Yes! He was awake. He did not think that there was any way this could be a dream, for in the black sleep of stasis he had had no dreams. Explosions? Was the sound that had broken through to his dull frozen mind truly the sound of battle? Yes, he supposed it could be nothing else.
"you must open your eyes" A voice! He heard a voice. It was speaking to him from deep within his own mind, and for a moment he felt a deep and grasping fear grip at his very soul. Remembering the dread voice of the possessed sword that had driven him to the act of terrible treachery that had damned him so long ago. The act of treachery that to this day defined him in the collective consciousness of all who still knew of his existence. And yet as soon as the fear came over him it was gone for this voice felt different. Not in any way that he could describe in words, but in one that was nonetheless as clear as day on an unpolluted world. Slowly, almost painfully he opened his eyes and saw... nothing. The room in which he found himself was pitch black, so dark that he couldn't see the walls. In truth, he had no way of knowing whether the room in which he now found himself was small, its walls being just beyond the edge of the shadow. Or whether it stretched off into infinity. What little light there was to be seen, was coming from a small lit control panel mounted against the side of the machine that had kept him in stasis. It was clearly Xenos in origin giving off a vile greenish light.
"They will come for you! You must fight!" Again there came that same deep and sickening terror, and again it faded before it had a chance to cloud his judgment. This voice was not his own, but it was not that of the cursed blade. Of that he was sure. Who the voice belonged to was a question that he had yet to answer, and Fulgrim swore to himself that once he escaped wherever he was he would find an answer to that question. And almost as if on cue the sounds of footsteps could be heard somewhere off to his right. Turning he peered into the inky blackness, and yet he could see no hint of a door. All the same, he lowered his body into a battle stance. Having no weapons he instead curled his fingers into fists ready to either live or die by the near steel-like strength of his hands. For a moment he thought of his brother Ferrus Manus and felt a deep sorrow welling up in his bosom. He wanted nothing more than to weep, deeply and openly over the act he had carried out against his favored honor brother.
And then in the blackness, he saw a light, as a door previously hidden opened flooding the room with light. In an instant, Fulgrim took in the size of the room, now revealed by the light from the hallway and beyond. Peering into the light he saw the form of what for an instant he thought were Humans, but soon realized where something far more evil,
"XENOS!" He roared as he leaped forwards towards the metallic alien beasts before him. Fulgrim did not recognize them as any of the foul Xenos races he had fought during the Emperor's Great Crusade. But it mattered little, all he needed to know was how to kill them. And thankfully they seemed to die like anything else. Soon he stood over the metal corpses of his would-be attackers now ripped limb from limb by the sheer strength of an enraged Primarch. For a split second, Fulgrim felt a sense of his old pride begin to rise within him at the perfection of his ability to kill such foul Xenos. And yet as soon as such a feeling rose within him, he was overcome by a wave of disgust was it not that very longing for perfection that the daemon within that unholy blade had used to turn him against his father, against his brothers, and against humanity itself? No. Not him, not exactly. He knew he was a clone, he had been told that much by Bile whilst still living with the mad old Astartes apothecary. Before he had betrayed him. Like father, like son. Fulgrim thought bitterly, wondering briefly if treachery was somehow hardcoded into his very geneseed. There had been terrible mistakes with it in the earliest days of his legion and for a moment he entertained the thought that that may have been the cause of their fall. Quickly however he dismissed that as nothing more than the human part of his psyche trying to pass the blame onto someone, or something other than himself. He was a man, however. In fact, he was more than a man he was a primarch and for a primarch to allow himself to pass blame from himself to another was wrong. Slowly he stepped out from the stasis room and into the hallway, a blank walled passage lit by a dim green glow. It stretched off seemingly for miles in either direction, flanked on either side by doors.
"More will be coming, you cannot fight them alone." Now free from his cell Fulgrim was able to pay more attention to this voice, and questioningly he spoke an answer in hopes that the voice would respond to him.
"Who are you, and what power do you have that you may speak to me?" There was a moment's pause in which Fulgrim feared he would receive no answer.
"I am a friend, now listen to me! You must find search this foul prison for allies. Or you are doomed!" Still wary of this Friend Fulgrim did see sense in its words. It was sensible that more of the metal Xenos would come for him, and if he was imprisoned in this place then in all likelihood so were many others.
"Then I shall gather them to me, Voice! But our conversation is far from over." There was no reply, and in truth, Fulgrim had not expected one as he picked a direction and strode quickly down the hallway stopping at the next door he looked around from a way to open it, and finding none slammed his great primarch's shoulder against the metal of the door, again and again, he slammed himself against the door. The sound of his repeated impacts joining the distant bombing in a deep bassy rhythm. With each hit, he saw the door's structural integrity failing more and more. Creaking, and bending beneath the strain of the repeated impacts of the Primarch's full weight. Finally, with a furious crash, the door caved inwards crashing to the ground in a room almost identical to the one in which he had awoken. Save for one minor detail. The stasis machine's odd freezing field contained not a single figure as had been contained within his, but rather what appeared to be two squads of Imperial Army troops dressed in khaki fatigues and net-covered helmets. Could he trust these men? He had no way of knowing, where they of a unit that had sided with Horus or stayed loyal to his father. And should they fall into either category would they follow him? After a moment of thought, he figured that they would. Still, a twinge of uncertainty remained. An altogether alien feeling to him. He had been so self-assured, so prideful once. And now? Now he was freed from the base vices that had warped him and made him a perfect victim for the daemon contained within the blade of lear. His whole life up to the point when he had awakened in the ruined of Fabius Bile's laboratory back in the child-like body that had been his over a millennium before. His mind, his very soul free from the taint of the warp. For too long he had been trapped by the damnation of his own choice in the darkest corner of his mind. Nothing but a dumb, mute passenger in his own head. But in that first moment that he had been awoken from the cloning vat he had been free. And now after much thought, and yet another betrayal. For once with him as the victim, he had come to the conclusion that his monstrous pride had been his undoing.
Looking from the control panel to the army unit he made his final decision and with a deep breath, he reached out and pressed the button to deactivate the terrible field of Xenos technology.
As soon as the field had been deactivated the men that it had held still for Emperor only knew how long fell to the ground. Fulgrim was surprised, as he himself had remained to stand. Of course, he realized a moment later that he was a Primarch and as such much more resilient than a common mortal. Slowly the men began to rise, staggering as they slowly tried to gain their feet. It did not take them long to realize that they were not alone in the room but instead shared it with something much greater than them. Slowly the Primarch approached a man amidst the soldiers that he could tell by the way he dressed as an officer. The officer wore a uniform identical to that of his men, however, instead of a net-covered helmet like his underlings the officer, a thin bespectacled man wore a peaked cap with a long flap sown to its back to keep his neck free from the degradation of the sun. A sensible design he decided.
"Officer! Listen to me. We are soon to face an attack from a Xenos force, I wish you to assist me in searching for more potential allies!" His voice was commanding, and intone there was still much of his old pridefulness. He wished deeply that he knew a way to command that was not so prideful but he had no other style available to him, and so he spoke with all the regal pride of a son of the Emperor.
"Yes sir!" The officer was quick to reply snapping to attention clearly able to tell from his great size and aura that he was a Primarch.
The common soldiers snapping to attention as well as they heard his order. He could see in their eyes the fanatical look of radicals and hoped that they would not try to kill him when they found out who he was.
Still, he wished that he recognized their uniform.
"Officer, what is your name?" The question he thought would start to get at what he wanted without letting him know that he was out of the loop to the current state of the Imperium.
"Lieutenant Tokagawa Kenta of the Kamikaze Last Regiment sir!" The man's answer has the Primarch more than he could have hoped for, not just his name but his unit too. However, the name was meaningless to him. He had no recollection of a world by the name of Kamikaze. Of course, it was likely a world that had been discovered in the ten thousand years since his possession by the daemon of the blade.
"Well Lieutenant Tokugawa Kenta of the Kamikaze Last Regiment, make sure your men have charged lasguns and follow me." And without looking he turned and strode out of the door and into the hallway. Already hoping that the next cell would hold more humans he could recruit to his escape plan from... wherever he was. That he realized was an important question that he had yet to ask.
"Where are we?" He asked quietly to no one in particular.
Have a good day, and God bless yin!