DISCLAIMER I DO NOT OWN WARHAMMER.

Goldman sat within the bunker staring at his helm. It was a Mark III variant. Much like the rest of his armor purple in coloration with gold accents. Beside it though was a crystalline powder. His special combat drug crafted by Fabius Bile himself for him. Since their own ascension many within the legion had taken to their own past times to bring them greater pleasure. Lucius had his ritual scarring and duels. Eidolon his noise marines and implants. Fabius his experiments. He..he had his own addiction. Drugs. Yes, many even of his legion would look down upon him for partaking in something so trivial and mortal but he cared not. The rush he felt when he took them before battle filled his superhuman body with pure ecstasy. They made him feel powerful. Leagues above his fellow brothers. He would never stop now. Even now as he prepared for combat he thought of his first rush.

The legion had been called to war upon some backwater world against an ork incursion. The vile xenos, as ravenous and foolish as they were, actually managed to pin the legion down bringing the war to a grinding halt. What was meant to be a swift perfect victory had now shifted into a battle of attrition. Goldman's squad had been called upon to take down an enemy bastion that had been repelling their forces. Needless to say the pros were much more well prepared than expected. His battle brothers were slaughtered. Torn apart by crude blades and stolen bolt. He was all that was left to complete the mission.

He had all the necessary equipment. He had scavenged plenty of frak grenades and spare magazines from his fallen brothers. As well as the stems that had been split between the squad. However he found over twenty orks. Unless he could manage to get perfect kill shots upon each of their monstrous physiques he would do nothing but throw himself into a meaningless death. Unless he could find a way to match the fighting strength of this large force.

He looked over at the stems. Counting his own he had six in total. He knew a single stem would bring one such as himself to heightened combat readiness..but six he knew not the effect. Regardless he had no choice. He needed to take down this force so that his primarch and fellow Legionnaires could push through.

He took them. All of them injecting each into his body through the delivery system within his armor. He felt it..all of the stims working their way through his body at one time. His pupils dilated. His muscles began to bulge, pulsating with borrowed power. His senses heightened to new levels. He could feel...everything. His nostrils picked up even the faintest of stenches.

The putrid..vulgar stench of decaying flesh,both ork and Astartes. He heard the distant echo of battles far beyond what his superhuman hearing could pick up. The chemical payload had far boosted his physical abilities. His lips curled into a smile, his body twitching slightly as he revved the teeth of his chainsword, his remaining hand tightening around the grip of his bolt pistol.

"Children of the Emperor! DEATH TO HIS FOES!" He roared as he charged. The orks hearing his challenge roared their own defiant rebuttal in their crude language and met his charge. He heard rounds ping off his armor, he was sure some managed to hit exposed flesh but it mattered not. He felt none of it. He was akin to the mindless berserkers of the World Eater legion in this sense. Nothing would stop him. Time seemed to move at a slower pace for him. The orks movements are much more sluggish than what he was used to. It matters not..They would all fall regardless...

The first ork to come upon his path found itself collapsing, gurgling blood as the teeth of his chainsword tore the flesh from its throat. The next two he pumped full of bolt rounds. Their craniums are blown to fleshy giblets by precise fire from his bolter. The physiology of the ork meant that most kill shots would not fell them. One had to completely pulverize the areas. By the time these two fell he was already in the next group hacking away with his blade. His drug enhanced charge was met with the beastly assault of that of the Orks. They came at him with clubs and axes..Shootaz and looted weapons of the Imperium. The next ork found its head torn from its body by his chain sword, blood spurting upon his armor. Another had its skull shattered by a powerful headbutt. More of them came.

The orks knew no fear; they only wished to kill and plunder. They attacked him. Savages. Beastly..Imperfect. Yet this did not stop him. He was positive that during the carnage a few of his vital organs had been pierced by crude weaponry and bolt. He felt none of it. He would not cease until his duty was done. When the stim fueled adrenaline rush had finally ended the ork fortification was in tatters. Ork corpses spread all about and at the middle of the carnage stood Goldman, armor drenched in Xenos viscera.

His chainsword's teeth were clogged with ork flesh. His bolter, having clicked empty, had been used to bludgeon many of them to death and was now warped and dented. He twitched as he activated his comlink to notify the main force. This battle was theirs. He needed more stims of this level. This rush he needed it once more. It made him feel much closer to perfection and gave him a better edge against the enemies of mankind...

Now Goldman looked over the powdery substance, as he spread some upon his gauntlet. He brought it up and snorted the line. Almost instantaneously the drugs began to work their course through his body. Bile's concoction brought him a rush that not even hundreds of combat stims could bring. He gritted his teeth, his veins throbbing, muscles pulsating with new chemical infused power. He placed on his helm and stood unclipping his chainsword from his waist. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, caressing the trigger. Even the smallest of actions such as this felt amplified whilst he was under the influence. He twitched once opponents would be their cousins of the Tenth legion. The sons of Ferrus. The Iron Hands.

He salivated just thinking at the sheer joy he would find in combating them. He felt the jitters at the pure thought of tearing them limb from mechanical limb. Slaying his own kin on Isstvan III brought him a new sense of battle ecstasy. Who knew what kind of high he would feel from slaying the sons of the Gorgon.

He needed not wait for long as his quarry came,led by their primarch into battle. Alongside his brothers he charged into the fray. He found his first target, an Iron hand with a mechanical arm. He had been focusing on a downed battle brother...His mistake. Goldman shoulder charged him, planting his pauldron in the middle of his spine, his drug enhanced strength launching the marine. He heard a wet snap as he landed..His spine had been broken . The Iron Hand stirred reaching for his fallen blade.

Goldman wasted no time pouncing upon him. He stabbed his blade into the tenth legionarie's flesh arm , right at the joint pinning it. He fired a series of bolts into the warriors back. He squealed with joy at his anguished cries of pain as each round met his backside. He then gripped the mechanical arm and tugged with all his strength. He heard servos whine and tear before finally giving with a loud pop. Flesh and metal being torn from each other. Hot oils and blood spurting from the stomped down on his neck, shattering the vertebrae completely and ending the marine's life. He held the arm in the air and roared in triumph. Allowing some of the fresh blood and oil to drip upon him. Yes...now this was true bliss~