"What is it, knave? What hubris possesses you that makes you think you can summon me at will?! I was in the shower! I will have your eyes!"
Abaddon barged into the darkened room of one of the Vengeful Spirit's many cargo holds. His ponytail was let down lazily into a damp clump of stringy hair on top of his otherwise bald head. A towel was loosely tied around his waist, and his bare feet slapped harshly against the cold black steel of his capital ship.
Neroth was waiting for Abaddon to arrive, standing over a stone box that the Warmaster didn't recognize.
"Warmaster. You look good! Have you been on that keto thing everybody is on nowadays?" Neroth said, his massive helmet spike decorations bobbing back and forth as he spoke.
"Silence! But yes. I feel FUCKING GREAT!" Abaddon said, flexing his unrealistically large muscles for all present to gaze upon. "I HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT! NOW, WHY AM I HERE?!"
"Of course, Warmaster." Neroth said, pointing his sorcerer staff at the box lying quietly on the ship's floor.
"What the fuck is it?!" Abaddon said, kneeling down to inspect the markings on the rocks. "This better be important, we are two hours from Cadia!"
"We found it in the Eye before departure. The markings are unknown to me, Warmaster." Neroth explained. "But we have scanned the inside, and found this."
Neroth activated a hologram nearby, showing the scan of what lay inside. It was the figure of a human male, not big enough to be an Astartes, but built large enough to be a candidate.
"SO WHAT?!" Abaddon screamed. "Just shoot it out the airlock and let's get on with the...what crusade are we on again?"
"Oh, twelve or thirteen, I can't remember, we've failed so many times…" Neroth pondered.
"IT'S NOT FAILURE!" Abaddon roared, stomping his bare feet against the ground. "We were merely testing Cadia's defenses! Twelve or thirteen times…"
"Right." Neroth said, trying to sound sincere. "You're not curious to see who it is? Perhaps he's a gift from the gods! We found a suit of armor nearby where we found him. Perhaps he is a Daemon or a champion! He may be a valuable resource."
"Hmm." Abaddon hummed, moving his hands over the markings. "Perhaps you are right. No harm in opening it. Be ready to blast him full of bolter if you are wrong. Pray you are not, Neroth. You took me from an amazing fucking shower."
Neroth's personal guard approached the stone tomb and held their bolters at the lid. Neroth opened the lid.
"Oh dear." Neroth said, looking away. "He's...nude."
"Nude? Can I see?" One of the marines said, poking his head closer to the box before being shoved back by Neroth's massive staff.
"Is he even alive?" Abaddon asked.
"Not sure." Neroth said. "Excuse me, mister daemon, maybe. Wakey wakey…"
"Out of the way!" The impatient Abaddon roared, shoving Neroth aside. "WAKE UP! HEY!"
Abaddon grabbed the sleeping man with both massive thick hands and shook him violently. The man's eyes opened.
"Good. Hello." Abaddon said. "We are Chaos, on our way to destroy civilization. Are you chaos?"
The man's teeth gritted and his eyebrows furrowed into a look of unfettered rage.
"Oh." Was all Abaddon could get out before the man's fist punched straight into the Warmaster's teeth.
Blood spurted and teeth went flying in all directions. Abaddon's eyes went wide with surprise.
"Warmaster!" Neroth whimpered. "Open fire, marines!"
The guards opened fire and engulfed the stone sarcophagus in a hail of explosive rounds. The dust of powdered stone filled the air as round after round struck the tomb. Once all magazines were emptied into the strange man, the dust slowly cleared, revealing Abaddon's bloody form. What remained of the Warmaster was little more than chunks of flesh and leaking guts. Big space marine guts. The man peeked out from behind Abaddon's corpse and tossed the limp Warmaster aside.
"Reload!" The squad leader ordered.
/
"Do you hear that?" A serf said to the other as they wandered the vast halls of the Vengeful Spirit.
"Hear what?" The other asked.
"Sounds like gunfire. And screaming." The first said.
"Ah. I guess it's Wednesday again." The other said.
Both shrugged and continued their stroll, albeit a little faster so as to not get caught up in the weekly Wednesday festivities.
/
The Doom Slayer looked down on the battered Black Legion sorcerer.
"Good work! You killed the worthless Warmaster!" Neroth exclaimed desperately. "You've proved your brutality and strength. Now you can take the throne of Warmaster, with me as your second-in-command! You could have the power of the twelfth or...thirteenth Black Crusade behind you! If you ask me, that's a pretty sweet deal!"
The Slayer looked down with an expression of complete disinterest.
"So, not interested in the throne? Can I have it, then?" Neroth asked quietly.
The Slayer grabbed Neroth's staff from the floor and stabbed it through the marine's impenetrable helmet. Neroth gurgled for a second before going limp. The Slayer turned his attention to the suit of armor sitting in the corner. He tested the wrist blade. Still worked. Grenade launcher? Operational. Helmet? Still fit.
"Greetings, Slayer." VEGA said as the helmet booted up. "I'm detecting an unusually high level of demonic corruption throughout this ship."
The Slayer looked down at the shredded Black Legionnaire, laying on top of his bolter. He rolled the marine over and picked up the massive Astartes weapon.
"This will do." VEGA said. "It fires 40mm explosive self-propelled grenade-rockets, as far as I can tell."
The Slayer loaded a magazine and moved towards the door leading into the corridors of the ship.
/
"Intruder Alert! Some asshole is ruining the paint job! It took weeks to get last Crusade's blood out of the carpet! All squads, kill the fucker before he reaches the bridge! Protect my tulips! My beautiful Tulips!"
The raspy voice continued to roar incoherent and strangely flora-based commands over the ship's vox as hundreds of marines and demonic entities charged through the corridors, desperately trying to find the intruder that had already killed Abaddon, Neroth and several hundred Marines on his rampage through the ship.
Falkus sat in the bridge command chair and watched over the camera feed as this man strafed around every round and blade the Black Legion sent at him. Daemons' heads were crushed, Marine's legs were broken and serfs were bitch-slapped into oblivion.
"Who is this guy?! An Imperial?" Falkus said, cradling his pot of tulips in his arms.
"He's no normal human." Falkus's serf noted.
"Oh, well thank you, slave. I do believe you deserve a promotion." Falkus said enthusiastically.
"I do?" The serf said, his eyes alight with hope.
"Yes." Falkus said. "You are now promoted to CAPTAIN FUCKING OBVIOUS!"
With a quick flick of Falkus's finger, the serf's head flew across the bridge, hitting a Marine in the back of the head.
Suddenly, the door to the bridge blew open. Smoke from flames in the corridor filled the bridge, reducing visibility. From the smoke, the head of a Bloodthirster rolled towards Falkus, coming to a halt at his feet.
"AN'GGRATH DOESN'T APPRECIATE GETTING DECAPITATED! AN'GGRATH IS VERY EMBARRASSED! Bluh-"
With that, the Bloodthirster head died, dissolving back into the Warp.
"Fire into the smoke, Marines!" Falkus ordered. "Don't let this fool enter the Bridge!"
Not a single shot was fired. In fact, no sounds came from any of the bridge crew.
"Guys?"
No response, except for the metallic thud of several marine bodies hitting the floor at once.
"Fine." Falkus said. "A worthy challenge then."
Falkus put his tulips down and Took his Power Sword from its sheath. The blade glowed through the smoke, revealing the silhouette of the enemy intruder.
"Hiding, eh?" Falkus said before swinging his blade through the smoke.
The figure strafed left and shot a bolter round at Falkus' face. Falkus felt the bolt hit his helmet, knocking him back a pace before swinging again. Once again, the Slayer strafed away, sending another bolt into Falkus' arm plate.
"Face me like a warrior!" Falkus said after recovering from the shot. "Put down the gun and fight me up close! Then we'll see how you fare!'
The smoke began to clear from the room, revealing the massive red glowing energy blade in his hand.
"Huh..." Falkus said before the crucible blade cut through his power sword and neck.
The last thing the First Captain saw as his head hit the floor was the Slayer deliberately ripping his tulips from their pot.
"Not the tulips…" Falkus' head mouthed silently before dozing into unconsciousness.
The Slayer looked around at the carnage around him for survivors.
"Demonic corruption onboard has been purged." VEGA stated. "However, I'm detecting another source of demonic activity. Multiple sources."
The slayer looked out the window of the bridge. As the Vengeful Spirit jumped out of the Warp above Cadia, so too did a thousand more Chaos ships. The Slayer looked down at the controls.
/
"What in the Kentucky-Fried fuck are they doing up there?" Creed asked, his voice muffled by the cigar in his mouth. The Cadian command mumbled among themselves as the monitor showed the Vengeful Spirit firing on the rest of the Chaos fleet.
"Not sure, sir. They are chaos." A nearby officer said. "Maybe someone called Abaddon "Failbaddon" again."
"Yes." Creed said. "Or perhaps 'Aba-dabba-doo.'"
"I personally like Ablobloddon the Blubbering myself." Another voice piped in.
"In any case, It looks like Cadia stood against another failed Black Crusade. Well done everybody." Creed said, pulling out a bottle of champagne and popping the cork.
Everybody held their glasses out for a pour as in the distance, thousands of Chaos ships burned in the atmosphere as they fell from orbit.
Every Guardsman shrugged at each other as the spectacle unfolded. Every Commissar pursed their lips in confusion. Every General said 'that worked out' to themselves, and everyone was generally confused and relieved to watch the forces of Chaos burn without firing a shot.
/
The Slayer finally turned the Vengeful Spirit back into the Eye.
"Warning. I'm detecting a Demonic Corruption Level unlike anything ever recorded. This isn't Hell. This is something else. Something bigger and more dangerous."
The Slayer held the course, his eyes fixed on the Warp Storm before him.
/
Fulgrim's snake body coiled around himself, surrounded by hundreds of Daemonettes in his own little slice of Slannesh's corner of the Warp.
"Ah, life is sooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO good!" He hissed as his Daemonette entourage wrapped molten razor wire around his tail. "OOH! A little higher, darlings."
Suddenly, the purple door to his bed-chamber burst open. There stood the Slayer. Everyone was silent as the Slayer scanned the room.
The naked Daemonettes.
The corpses of cultists ripped apart from the groin up, big smiles on their pierced faces.
The white noise blasting loudly through the speakers.
The smell of...bodily juices.
The Slayer had to take a moment to fully process what he was seeing.
"Uh…" Fulgrim said. "Who are you?"
The Slayer broke out of his initial shock and raised the crucible sword.
"OOH!" Fulgrim squealed. "Tell me where you're going to put that. My safety word doesn't exist-"
The Blade cut straight Fulgrim's body in half lengthwise. His twisted smile of pleasure split in two as the two halves of his body slid away from each other. The Daemonettes screamed and wailed for the death of their favorite Daemon Prince, then turned their eyes to the Slayer.
/
"Finally!" Draigo said as he approached Fulgrim's palace. "Soon I will have the traitor Primarch's head on a platter! And I will serve it to the Queen! The Queen...of France!"
As the Grey Knight Chaptermaster came through the door, he bumped his shoulder into the Slayer. The two lifted swords towards each other, but Kaldor noticed the head of Fulgrim laying on the ground behind him and loosened his grip. The Slayer also recognized the Knight as Human...ish...and he too lowered his guard.
"Excuse me." Kaldor said, motioning at the sliced up body if the Traitor Primarch. "Are you finished with that?"
The Slayer looked back at the pile of dead Daemons he left, then shrugged and nodded his head.
"Good!" Kaldor exclaimed. "I needed a new centerpiece for my crafting table!"
/
'Over the next millennia, the Slayer traveled across the Warp, occasionally entering the Materium through the Warp Storms, should a daemonic invasion grow too strong. He would arrive, just in the nick of time, to save the defenseless citizens of the Imperium. Several accounts of his appearance can be traced back hundreds of years, and the more time goes on, the more evidence exists that he is out there.
Some claim he is an angel of the Sky Father. Some claim he was a heretic who used daemons to gain power. Some say he is just a man, fighting against the evils of the Warp and defending humanity by any means possible. Perhaps he is a force of nature, or a god himself, born from Humanity's combined hatred for the spawns of the Immaterium.
Whatever he is, he's still out there, ripping and tearing, kicking daemon butt, and protecting humanity with fist and blade and boot. He will never be done, for his fight is eternal.
Addendum: This document is to be sealed away from public eyes, under the order of the Ministry of Truth.
Scribe Punious, Historical Revision Unit
End Log'