A large, muscular man struggled with his bonds. His body was covered in scars from a life of hardship, one eye was missing. He was bound to a cold metal table with leather straps, around his wrists, upper arms, ankles, upper legs, chest, abdomen and forehead, within a padlocked cage with crackling void shield around it, within a room with a sealed blast door which could be flooded with toxic gases in an instant. He was starving, having refused all food offered to him. He could never escape this prison, it was massively overdone, but he was the only prisoner within this palace.
On the far side of the room, a simple mirror hung. A grinning female face, pale and beautiful, looked out of it. She had long, flowing hair of dark red and mischievous, twinkling violet eyes.
"Whore! Whore of the Flesh God!"
"Yes, yes, get it out your system," she replied to the caged man calmly.
The man roared inarticulately, shaking the table even though it was screwed firmly to the floor.
"So, Servant of Blood, tell me, what is your purpose?"
"To kill! In Khorne's name, to shed blood and claim skulls!"
"That is all? You do not aspire to glory, you care for nothing but death?"
"Blood for the Blood God!"
"Ah, the usual chorus of a berserker who is faced with a question he cannot answer. Tell me, what would you do now?"
"I would kill you! And every weakling in your city!"
"You can't, though. Somewhere in that roiling sea of testosterone you call a brain there must be a small part of you that knows you cannot escape this table, let alone the cage, or the power field, or the door. You simply cannot kill not even yourself. Would you kill yourself, if you could?"
Here the woman's voice changed, her interest clearly piqued.
The man remained silent.
"You are helpless, bound and caged. You can't kill. What are you now? What is your purpose now?"
A pause.
"I have none."
The woman pressed home her advantage.
"You are nothing, then. No mind, no heart, no soul, just death to whatever you can kill. A beast, nothing more."
"You are a stupid whore. You serve the Flesh God. If you could not feel, what are you? Then you are nothing. I am death. You? You are a joke! Sensation is an illusion of the flesh! Death! Death is the only way to experience anything! Free of the mortal world!"
A long pause.
The mirror was empty once more, and the victorious captive laughed to himself.