Warning: Contains cannibalism and other things typical to the Warhammer universe, the Imperium of man being the Imperium of man and Tyranids.
Have you ever felt True Hunger?
No, not the twinge in the gut after missing a single meal. Not the desire that wets the mouth smelling some delicious aroma.
The burning that consumes one's insides for sustenance out of desperation. That converts fat, muscle, even organ tissue into something that can be used to keep the body going just another day. Just another hour. Survival at any cost. Every creature more complex than an amoeba feels some version of it when pushed to their utter limit. Every complex being capable of communicating had a way of expressing it.
For humans, every single one of their languages had a word to describe it. Different cultures, different sounds, that all came to express a single meaning.
Starvation.
Starvation was not a rare occurrence in the 42nd Millenium, especially in the Imperium of Man. But neither was it a particularly common one. Whilst a hungry worker could still work, a starving worker did not; no matter how many threats or punishments were inflicted. And there were only so many people you could convert to servitors before the Mechanicus took exemption to the amount of resources and technical knowledge sunk into a single planet that wasn't specifically theirs.
Many worlds therefore tended to teeter on the edge between hunger and starvation; only a blow away from tumbling; where corruption, decadence and zealotry eroded year by year the protections that should allow the planet to survive at least a few such events.
Earia Secundus was such a world. A hive-world whose food came almost entirely from the nearby agri-world, a recent dispute between the noble houses had caused a great reduction of the shipments from it, resulting in much of the population collapsing into anarchy. This was exacerbated when a strange cult had risen from the underbelly of the hive, with strange claims and stranger symbols; thankfully defeated by the local PDF but not before causing chaos and damage to vital infrastructure. Calls for aid had been made to the wider Imperium, but the answers that came rang of cold indifference, if not outright threats. And when a high ranking member of the ecclesiarchy mentioned the possibility of sending a sororitas expedition to check the world for corruption of the alien kind, the planetary governor had ceased its calls, assuring the situation was under control.
The corpses of the cultists, those who had lost their life in the famine and those who had perished fighting back the first were incinerated in what few places could still take the task without costing the world vital production quotas that would see it no doubt sanctioned; but so many were the dead that the governor ordered the surplus thrown down into the sewers of the lower levels of the hive. Hidden from any surprise inspection.
Anya knew it was wrong. The preacher had said so, when the people had started sneaking into the sewer system and returned with their clothes bloodied and their bellies full. But she was so hungry. So, so hungry. No food had come from above in weeks; the guards shot anyone who got close to the gates leading to the upper levels.
No one was listening to them. No one was coming to help. And Anya was not strong enough to fight for what little could still be found down here.
She'd eaten the very last of the scraps she'd managed to hide from the other kids before going out, knowing she would have no way of getting more. Her thin, near skeletal frame allowed her to sneak through the bars leading to the entrance of the sewers easily.
She knew she wouldn't be the only one down there. The Preacher had screamed and raved and shouted at the people, but with the Arbites refusing to come down to these levels there was little he could actually do to impose discipline. It was difficult to convince people when your main argument was 'Better to starve for the Emperor than to eat such abhorrence'. That was easy to say when he had the only large stock of food around, remaining fat through the famine. No one had dared go so far as to try and steal from him. Despite the desperation, the fear, people still feared divine retribution. She wondered if this would last forever.
Slowly, she walked into the dark tunnels; colossal pipes of a material she did not know the name of. She could easily stand twenty times over herself without touching the ceiling.
The water was still and putrid. The system had barely been running before they threw in heaps of corpses into it. Thankfully, water was still relatively easy to come by, and so she ignored the brown waters.
Creeping forth, a putrid smell started assaulting her nose. She recoiled; gagging silently at the horrid stench. By the God-Emperor, she knew it would be bad, but this… this was worse than any scent in the underhive. And that was a very, very high bar to surpass. Still, the twisting hunger in her guts eventually pushed her forth. After another minute of careful walking, she finally stumbled onto a pile of bodies. They piled high, all the way to the ceiling of the sewer; the bloating of the corpses gently pushing against the massive grate they had been dumped under. As she gazed at the pile, she hesitated once more. The stench was bad enough; but the bodies themselves looked like they were just starting to decompose. Even if she were to eat, would it do her any good?
Lancing pain in her abdomen killed any of these thoughts. She was going to die anyways at this rate, and she didn't plan on doing so without giving it her absolute best. She walked to the pile, the mass of dead human flesh looming menacingly over her. Flies were flying around in a buzzing cacophony; glassy eyes looked back at her. She gulped at the sight, wondering where to even start. As she examined the pile, something caught her eye. A body that looked less decayed than the others. Fresh. Her eyes widened and she trotted to it, as fast as her emaciated legs would allow her. She stumbled; too weak to stop herself from falling to the ground, clenching her mouth shut as she hit the floor. She tried to get back up, her hands grasping the ground with straining fingers. Her lips trembled as she failed to gather the strength to get up; to rise back on her feet. Wetness gathered at the corner of her eyes. She tried to stifle the sound, did her best to keep her mouth close.
As she started to crawl forward, she sobbed as quietly as she could. The despair of her situation, the horror of living in the undercity; the weeks of starvation. It was all too much, far too much.
And the whispers in her head were becoming louder.
Her hand reached out to the body she'd seen. The robes showed him to be a cultist. The strange spiral symbol on his arm only saw a glance spared before she pulled, trying to make the body come out from the pile. She wasn't strong enough. Another sob escaped her. She wasn't strong enough! Her eyes glowed, for only a moment, the whispers in her mind almost screaming now before she closed her eyes and shook her head as fast as she could. No, no. She couldn't listen to the voices. No matter what. Her mom had made that very clear.
She managed to rise to her knees. Her legs were too weak to carry her body, but she could at least sit. She grabbed the arm of the corpse. The whispers grew louder and louder as she brought it to her mouth, before finally, she bit.
The voices grew silent. Revulsion and awe filled her all at once. The feeling in her mouth was horrible, disgusting, abhorrent. And yet, she could feel her body scream in joy at the feeling of nutrition, no matter the source. And best of all, the voices that had plagued her since she was an infant were for the first time silent. The painful lights that would appear whenever she closed her eyes were fading away, as if hidden away by some great shadow.
She forced herself to chew. Trying to ignore the feeling of her teeth tearing into muscle and veins, blood wetting her lips. She felt tears running down her face at the horrific act she was committing. But she would survive. This, she knew.
For the rest of the day, she ate, and ate, and ate, until her stomach no longer cried out in pain.
She walked back home. She felt… she wasn't sure how she felt. Stronger for certain. She'd taken a detour to clean herself. An open secret it might have been, eating the bodies in the sewer was still expected to be something one concealed. People wouldn't ask so long as you did not make it too obvious.
The place she lived in was but one apartment among thousands in sector twelve of the seventh level. Apartment E seven three nine. She kept to the side walk, creeping along the walls of the tall buildings, hoping to pass through unseen.
Unfortunately, the streets were not nearly as populated as they had once been, and so it was much harder for her to pass unnoticed.
"Hey." She tried not to react to the word, continuing forward without changing her pace. "Cockroach." Her hands tightened slightly, a nervous twitch pulling at her lips. "I'm speaking to you." Something grabbed her shoulder, and she turned around.
The boy wasn't much older than herself. But he was bigger, taller and stronger. And he wasn't alone.
"Azal." She replied curtly, giving him a nod. "Sorry. Ears full of mud."
"Fell into the river again?" She nodded as he grinned. "Aw, it's all good cockroach. I know you wouldn't ignore me on purpose." The grip on her shoulder tightened to a painfully uncomfortable degree. "Right?"
"Right." She agreed. She wasn't good at faking, not like the others were. The ones who smiled and grinned and bowed. Not that she was unwilling, but her face struggled to do the movements.
"Right." He repeated once more. "So anyway, I can't help but notice that you look… better." She did her best to keep the worry from her expression. At his widening grin, she failed. "Yeah, I can see it for sure. You don't look as pale. You walk straighter. Now, I'm sure our dear cockroach wouldn't be such an idiot as to go down into the sewers now. Would she?" She nodded frantically. "Of course. So, you must have found something good. Something nice. And because dear cockroach would never be so selfish as to keep everything for herself, you will be more than willing to share." His grin gained a threatening edge. "Right?" She was unsure what to respond, her eyes quickly darting to the others with him. Two of them she recognized. Baran and Pierre. Thugs that had been following Azal for the past year. The third however was a new one. A teenager with an augmented eye, a calculating look and some crude pistol attached to a leather belt. On the cross was the symbol of two wings. "So, you're going to be a good little roach, go out and get some of the good stuff back to us." He finally let her go, pushing her away with a shove. "You've got until the end of the week. On Emperor's day, come to the water treatment plant. And don't come empty handed." She nodded rapidly, scrambling back and quickly trotting away. As she rounded the corner, she dared to take a look back, to find Azal excitedly looking at the teenager, who was now giving a small nod. Her heart was beating like crazy.
Fuck. Azal was joining the Angels. He knew she didn't have anything; couldn't bring anything that wouldn't be a corpse from the sewers.
This wasn't about making her bring food. This was about the Angels' initiation.
He was going to kill her.
The realization hit her right as she crossed the door to the apartment, sliding down against it as she closed it. Her breathing was erratic; frightened.
No. No, this wasn't fair. This wasn't fair! She'd done everything she could. She degraded herself to begging, she'd stolen, she'd done everything. She'd even… her tongue felt the phantom taste of flesh on it. Nausea rose in her. She'd even done the unforgivable. And now she was going to get killed for some prick's fucking initiation ritual?!
This just wasn't fair.
It took her an hour to calm down. When she did, she let the automatisms of habits guide her; blocking off the entrance door with a piece of furniture; something that proved easier to do than usual now that she wasn't on the verge of starvation anymore. Then, she checked all her hidden caches of supplies for any signs of raiding. No food, she'd run out of that a long time ago. A few dozen gelts. A knife. Some bandages.
Not enough to get out of town. Not nearly enough. And even then, where would she go? The Angels had their grubby hands in every part of the sector. And if Azal that little bastard had chosen her for his initiation, they wouldn't let her leave. She couldn't escape them. Not her. Not weak, useless cockroach.
She laid beneath the sink, hidden in the cupboard. Exhaustion slowly allowed her to drift off, her fears and anxieties washed away as she faded to sleep.
She didn't bother praying to the God-Emperor. He'd never answered before.
Hunger.
A billion, trillion beings screamed out at once. As they did, a billion died, and a billion more were born.
HUNGER.
The never ending chorus resounded. Not in a voice, no. The alien beings held hunger at a much more primordial level than any other entity in the galaxy.
HUNGER.
But it was different. By its very nature, it hungered incessantly, but it could put it aside to think. To plan. To prepare. To experiment and try new methods of assimilation.
HUNGER.
It was not sentient, not in the way the creatures of the galaxy were. It was both far, far more…and far less. A billion trillion minds united as one to make something greater as a whole. Its task was simple. Keep the swarm fed. Expand. Grow. Find new prey. Devour. Expand further.
HUNGER.
This galaxy was not so different from the previous ones in many ways. But its sheer, insane resilience to its tendrils proved annoying. Over time, its victory was guaranteed. But its success?
Success was leaving with more biomass than it had arrived with. The greater the difference, the bigger the success.
And so, to find ever more efficient ways of accumulating biomass, it kept experimenting. Adapting. Evolving. Mutating. Sometimes, the changes were beneficial. Sometimes they were not.
HUNGER.
To say the faint light that joined the chorus caught its attention would be a lie. Its attention was ever divided, ever dispersed throughout the swarm. Giving some places a bit more of it, or a bit less.
HUNGER.
But it did give more attention to the flickering light than it usually would. It was not a proper part of the swarm. No, not at all. If anything, it was an infected being. It had consumed biomass belonging to one of the creatures of the swarm, albeit a hybrid one, and the genetic information would consume her from the inside, leaving nothing but a husk.
HUNGER.
And yet, something held its attention. A strange sense of kindred. It could feel the creature's fierce desire to live. To survive. Could feel the ability to adapt, how much had been changed, learned, tried and evolved. It was limited by its form; born a human. One of the species it had encountered across this new galaxy.
This one held powers like many of them did. To pull from that endless sea of nothingness, disgusting abominations which left nothing to eat when they died. She was strong. Very strong. But she was too small, too young. She would die before ever touching her powers.
INTRIGUE.
Perhaps there was something here. An opportunity to try something new. Something different. And so, a minute portion of itself reached out to the genetic material within the quivering creature. New instructions were given. New information. A subtle whisper in the child's brain. It could not change too much there, that would be against the point. It had already tried twisting the minds of humans to extremes with some success. This would be something different. It wanted to see what it could do. If it would listen. A new instrument to add to its arsenal.
EVOLVE. ADAPT.
CONSUME.
CONSUME.
CONSUME.
HUNGER.
Anya was used to having nightmares. The voices were always relentless at night, plaguing her mind with horrible visions. This night however was one without dreams. Without thought. A blessedly quiet night.
She woke up feeling strangely energized. For the first time in months, she did not struggle to exit the cupboard under the sink, emerging with a quick look around. The door was still closed. The furniture still in place. She allowed herself to relax slightly. Good. No one had tried to come in during the night.
She needed to prepare.
She nodded at the thought. Yes, prepare. By the end of the week, Azal would try and kill her. As it was, she would stand no chance. She would be killed, her body disposed of. Just another human life snuffed in the under-city.
No. No, she would not let this be her fate. She would fight. She would fight! She dug into one of her caches, digging out the sharp knife she'd hidden there. But not now. Not directly. She was too weak, far too weak. She needed to grow stronger.
She needed to eat.
Yes. That was the key. Eating yesterday had made her feel stronger, made her feel better. Sure, she couldn't beat the Angels, but she didn't have to. She just needed to beat Azal. If she did, they'd let her leave. Or ask her to join. One thing at a time however.
Exiting her apartment, she very carefully locked the door, waiting until she was certain not a single eye was on her before hiding the key in a nearby empty pot.
From above she could hear the sounds of the city in motion. The upper levels rebuilding themselves. Repairing the damage done during the riots. The industries sparking back to life. Nevermind they'd all been left to die down here.
She slapped herself lightly. No, enough of that. She needed to focus. She was limited on time. Hesitantly, she reached out to a nearby wall, and tried lifting herself up. Despite her regained strength, it proved not to be enough to climb up on the roof of houses. She cursed inwardly. She'd have to walk the streets.
She didn't come across anyone. People were either barricaded in their homes, or had left for their own survival tasks by now. She stuck to the shadows; much easier to do now that the upper levels had turned off the massive flood lights that usually illuminated the underhive. And eventually, she found herself once more at the entrance of the sewers. This time, slipping in was a little more difficult; she was surprised by that. Certainly the meal yesterday had given her some strength, but she hadn't expected her body to regain mass so fast. Still, she managed to get through, and softly trotted forward towards the pile of bodies. The stench came to her nose and she gagged, but continued forth. It wasn't quite as pungent this time thankfully.
"Damnit Larry!" She froze. The sound came from the other side of the corpse pile. "If I catch some god awful shit down here, I will rip out your bloody toes myself!" The voice was coarse, angry. An adult voice. Instinctively she drew back on herself, trying to appear smaller than she was whilst looking for a hiding spot.
"Oh calm down you prissy bastard. It's just some dead folk. Not like any of them are gonna bite you." The other voice was thick and greasy, laughing at his words. "Now help me out here, I can see a bag on that one."
The pile started to shift. To move. Her eyes widened. If any of the bodies fell on her, she could be crushed. If more than one did, she would absolutely be crushed. She gulped and looked around, desperately looking for an exit.
"Alright, got it." The bodies stopped moving. She prevented herself from letting out a sigh of relief. "Damn, there's a pretty good amount. You'd have thought they'd search these before throwin'em down there."
"Too busy trying to make sure the place doesn't collapse again." The sounds of footsteps reached her ears, slowly getting more distant as the voices did.
"Wait, we're already leaving?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Cultists in that pile. I'm not desperate enough to mess with that ju-ju shit." The voices started to echo as the two men presumably turned a corner. "There's enough corpses down here to avoid those weirdos." Anya waited a few more seconds for the voices to become inaudible. Only then did she exit from behind the corpse pile, looking at the cultist she'd been eating the day before. It was still fresh; even the parts that she had torn flesh off hadn't started decomposing.
And so she sat down and started eating once more. It was easier to ignore the disgust this time. In fact, there was something almost…savory about the flesh. She ate, and ate, and ate until she reached the bone. But she didn't stop. Some part of her was craving the bones; a niggling feeling in her brain that she should eat them. As she brought the tibia to her mouth, she hesitated. Why?
Why was she doing this?
The flesh had been out of desperation. Her return had been so she could gain enough strength to fight back, perhaps enough to no longer have to rely on human flesh.
And yet here she was, her jaw about to clamp down on hard bone. It wasn't even the bone marrow she was after. Her body craved bone itself.
It will help you grow stronger.
She was certain of that. She didn't know where that certainty had come from, but she was absolutely certain of it. Cautiously, she closed her jaws around the bone. Giving it a cautious nibble. To her surprise, the bone started to crack under the pressure. She let go of the bone, holding it out in front of her eyes and gaping at the sight. Her teeth had started to make lesions in the bone, cracking it in multiple places. But…this wasn't possible. Wasn't normal. She started lowering the bone, hesitation worming its way through her. She'd regained strength, sure, but not even the strong adults could crack bone with their teeth. Even when trying their hardest to. She took a step back. Perhaps the preacher had been right.
But it will help.
She thought of Azal and the murderous glint in his eyes, of the fat preacher when the people laid starving by the thousands. His sermons and ravings had never stopped the voices; hadn't prevented hunger from gripping her slowly but surely. Her hands trembled. It hadn't stopped the people of the town from kicking her like a sick dog. From calling her cockroach and spitting on her when they passed by. She brought the bone back to her teeth.
She didn't know where the certainty came from. But she knew one thing. Whatever the consequences of what she was doing…
It couldn't be worse than how things had been before she took that first bite.
The bone cracked and snapped within her mouth, her stomach growling with satisfaction.
Her eyes glowed a faint yellow in the dark of the tunnel as she consumed more and more of the cultist's corpse. Feeling herself grow stronger as she did; the perpetual exhaustion of starvation disappearing further and further, her hands no longer shaking but instead prying the corpse apart.
When she went back to her home that day, she did so with a gait more confident than she'd had in years.
Morning came with pain flaring through her joints. Anya slowly opened her eyes, letting out a childish groan as she struggled to emerge from under the sink. It felt like she was even more cramped than usual, and it certainly didn't help that her every limb was weary and cramped. She hoped there hadn't been some vermin or disease in the carrion she'd consumed the night before.
Still, despite her limbs and body feeling pain, she was actually filled with energy. Her eyes roamed the apartment in quick, sharp looks, finding everything still in place. She relaxed minutely, letting out a sigh as she grasped the wall and pushed, stretching her sore muscles. A scratching noise caught her attention, her eyes widening as she saw the marks in the wall. Lead paint scratched off in five distinct marks. She knew the paint used in the apartments was cheap, but she hadn't expected it to be that cheap to be peeled with just her fingernails!
She exited the apartment, hiding the key in the same location as before after checking over her shoulders. She thought of what to do for the day. Should she return to the corpse pile once more? She was hungry, yes, but it wasn't the starving hunger that she had been feeling for weeks on end. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be just…hungry. Not ravenous. Perhaps she could skip on corpse flesh for the day.
Eat to grow strong.
Then again, she should still eat. Who knew how long the bodies down there would stay fresh after all. And well, she was still skinny. She looked down at herself. Not nearly as skinny as before; in fact, she could barely see her own ribs anymore, and her arms had started gaining some definition. She would need to be as strong as she could when the day of the initiation came.
Her mind set, she started to go towards the sewers once more.
"Oh, cockroach!" She froze, her head tilting to the side to find a tall, muscular woman looking down at her with a grin. "There you are! Haven't seen you in town in a few days, was getting worried." Anya looked around. No one else was here.
"I've been out during the day." The woman gave her a knowing look.
"Trying to find food?" She nodded. "Well good on you. Nothing in this place for sure. Did you find anything?" There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes as she asked that. Anya's own eyes narrowed and she had to resist the urge to snarl. That was her reserve of food. Part of her knew that Daya wouldn't be interested in corpse flesh. She was strong enough to get better stuff. But…she felt strangely possessive over the dead meat.
"Nothing good."
"Hm." Daya knew she was lying, it was obvious, but she didn't call Anya out. "Shame. Ah well." The woman gave her a closer look. "Say. Have you grown since the last time I saw you?" Anya felt a sudden surge of discomfort. It wasn't the look she was giving her, no. Daya was merely curious. But something about her noticing the fast changes in Anya's body made her instincts flare with warning. She merely shrugged and walked away, her legs carrying her just slow enough to not look as if she was running. She could feel Daya's eyes on her as she made her way towards the sewers.
She couldn't pass through the bars.
The realization was startling. Sure, she'd noticed that she was gaining some weight back, but…in just three days? There was something strange there no matter how she tried to put it. And she still hadn't heard the voices. They had never stayed quiet for a minute let alone three days.
She needed to find another way through. The grate perhaps? No, the upper levels had closed it, and no doubt they'd locked it on the way out. The exit point then. With the water no longer flowing, it wouldn't be an issue to get in. But…it meant unfamiliar territory.
Her hand slipped into the pocket of her pants, gripping the small knife in it. Pain flared in her palm, making her let go with a startled yelp as she pulled her hand from her pocket as if burned. Bringing it up to her face, a cold sweat went down her back at the sight.
Claws. Long, bone-like claws emerging from her fingertips; only a few centimetres long, but vicious and sharp.
This wasn't possible. Wasn't normal. If people saw that…they'd drag her to the preacher to be burned. She reached out to the claw, trying to see if she could pull it off. But after almost cutting herself one too many times, she gave up. She could try to break them she supposed, but that wasn't solving the problem. Unless she planned on severing her own fingers, people would still be able to see the tips of bones protruding from the end of her digits.
Was this the result of eating the corpse? She should have known. She should have known that eating the flesh of that cultist was a terrible idea!
Had you not, you would have died of hunger.
Well yes, there was that, but…
You might die now at their hands if they find you while you are still too weak.
But she would have died anyway. She knew it, she just needed to remind herself of that fact. She clenched her fists, feeling the claws scrape gently against the skin on her palms.
She would survive.
She would survive.
Her mind set, she headed to the sewers exit.
The exit turned entrance to the sewers was empty of water; empty of people, and annoyingly, empty of corpses. Looking around, she did her best to ignore the smell of the rotting lake where the sewer used to empty its contents into. Her target was further inside.
As she walked through the sewers, she quickly found piles of dead bodies. But they were all rotting; all too disgustingly spoiled for her to even try a bite. She was hungry yes, but no longer desperate.
It took her nearly an hour of careful navigation through the sewers to find a pile with a fresh body. Once again, it was a dead cultist; this one had a burnt hole in their chest. No doubt shot with a lasgun from the PDF during their uprising.
Still, most of the flesh was still intact. Preserved. Fresh. She knew this to be abnormal, and yet she could not bring herself to care. The food was there. It was good. And so, she started to feast.
The sound of footsteps coming from afar a few minutes later did make her pause, but she did not stop. She didn't want to abandon her prize. Territorial instincts rose within her. No, she had given up enough in her life. This, she would not let them have. She continued eating.
Someone turned a corner. A scavenger, like the two men from before. She could tell from the ratty bag they carried around and the greedy look they were casting all around before those muddy brown eyes of theirs landed on her.
"Oh. Um. Hey." She stared back at them silently. "Fuck me, those are some creepy eyes. Look, I'm just passing…" Their eyes widened. "Wait. Are you eating that corpse? Oh that is messed up." The man's hand reached into their leather jacket, making Anya tense. "I'd heard people around here started doing that… Emperor protect me." She slowly rose from her meal, looking at the person with a cocked head. Her eyes remained stuck to him, glowing yellow staring into the brown eyes of the intruder. Despite them being taller and more muscular than her, she didn't feel intimidated. If anything, the man himself seemed nervous about her.
"I was hungry." She said. She didn't want a fight if she could avoid it. "The adults took all the good food. Nothing left but corpses." She crossed her arms. She realised her mistake when his eyes drifted to her hands.
"Sororitas tits…" The man swore, his arm starting to pull out whatever it was he'd gripped in his jacket. Anya panicked, scrambling backwards and running around the pile of corpses, throwing herself behind it just in time to hear the sizzle of laser pass behind her. Her veins thrummed with adrenaline as her pupils dilated; the bastard had tried to kill her! "Fucking mutant!" The man angrily screamed, the sound of boots getting closer to her hiding spot making her heart beat so fast she thought it would burst from her chest. The man had a laspistol. He had an emperor-be-damned laspistol, and she was going to die.
Unless she killed him first.
But he had a laspistol. No matter what she did, he would get at least one shot first, and if he hit she was dead. No two ways about it. She wouldn't be able to get a stab in before he got a shot on her. Looking around there was nothing that could help her. Nothing except corpses. An idea came to her mind.
"Come on out you little monster…" The man said as he cautiously stepped around the pile of corpses. "I just wanna…" She interrupted him by charging at him, holding the corpse of a large man in front of her like some grotesque shield. He yelled in surprise, discharging the lasgun into the body in front of her, burning holes into it. None of the shots pierced through however; and by the time she'd made it to him, his gun had gone empty and he was changing the battery pack when she dropped the corpse, using it as a step to jump up at him with her knife in hand. His eyes went wide and he squealed in fear as he batted his arm at her; Anya's strike aimed at his throat instead tearing into the muscles of his arm, cutting deep into the flesh with surprising strength for her age. She dangled from his arm with her legs thrashing as he screamed in pain before letting go of the knife as he tried to take a swing at her. The laspistol was lost; having fallen into the stained murky waters.
"GAH! YOU FUCKING BITCH!" The man screamed, holding his bleeding arm. "I AM GOING TO BEAT YOU TO DEATH FOR THAT!" She looked at him, her eyes fixated on the knife. She'd lost her weapon. The man must have realised that, as he gripped the knife and pulled it out, a grin on his face. "Time for payback you freak…"
He took a step forward. She took a step back. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I am going to enjoy this you mutant abomination." She showed him her teeth and growled, making him pause in hesitation to her surprise. "Emperor be damned, why do your eyes glow?!"
Now!
She didn't hesitate. Her instincts carried her forth, her hands lashing out. The man snapped out of his state and tried to stab down at her, Anya nimbly dodging to the side before planting her claws into his leg. The bony protusions sliced like a knife through butter, cutting deep gashes into the poor quality clothing and flesh. The man screamed and fell to the ground. He didn't get to say anything else as she plunged her other set of claws into his throat.
For a moment, it felt like the world fell silent. There was a ringing in her ears as she watched the blood pour between her fingers, the man's fingers wrapping weakly around her wrist. She pulled her hand back, holding it like a snake about to bite. The man coughed. There was so much blood.
He tried to speak but all that came from him was a gross gurgle. She blinked, shaking her head as she stepped back further and further, the man reaching for his throat and trying in vain to stem the bleeding. Her back hit the wall as she continued shaking her head, staring at the dying man. He was sobbing now, looking terrified.
She'd done this. Emperor protect her, she'd done this.
You defended herself.
She hadn't wanted this. He'd attacked her. She just wanted to be left alone.
Survival of the fittest. Consume or be consumed.
He'd tried to kill her. She stopped shaking her head. There was a hazy feeling in her head. She hadn't done anything wrong. He'd been the one to pull the trigger first.
The man had stopped moving. His eyes were still.
His body is fresh.
Slowly, she started to walk forward. Her hands stopped shaking.
She knelt by the corpse.
Consume or be consumed.
He'd tried to kill her, but she had been stronger. Smarter. Better prepared.
More fit to survive.
She grabbed his arm. Brought it to her mouth.
Consume and be stronger.
She did not return to her apartment that night.
A.N.: And here we are! The first chapter of my new fanfiction. I decided to go with an idea that has been trotting in my mind for some time, far darker than my previous work. I have always been a fan of the Tyranids faction, and wanted to do a story from the perspective of a genestealer cultist - like character, except...more. One that can follow the Hive-fleets, and can show the vast diversity of the 40k verse and let each faction have its own moment to shine and show off what makes them so unique and fascinating.
This will be starting off at a fairly small scale, but will be escalating as it goes forward, bringing in more and more factions into the story as it keeps trudging on. This will be a story with a lot of darkness, as I do not want to make the tyranids a good faction, but want to remain true to their representation as a whole, with adding some more human elements through the protagonist, albeit not necessarily good ones.
I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! If you have any questions feel free to leave them as a review and I will answer them at the beginning of the next chapter in the A.N.!