I closed the door, my body coated in the drizzle from outside. I was cold, wet, and frankly done with today. It began well enough, until I saw the time while eating a great breakfast, ham and eggs. I'd be late for work, so I rushed on my way there. Got pulled over for speeding and ticketed for two hundred bucks, and will only be able to pay during the busiest week I've had in six months. Then, when I got to work, there were only two types of customers that came in: window shoppers who asked way too many questions, and people with problems we couldn't fix. At least when I got off work and had my paycheck, I could pop on over to the local tabletop hobby store.

Everything went fine there. I ordered a set of Termagants since they didn't have any stocked there and they said they could do it, and lo and behold, there were my babies. I loved painting Tyranids from the Warhammer 40,000 tabletop game, though I couldn't play them very well at all whenever this place hosted tournaments. Try as I might, my luck was real bad. Out of, say, 80 dice rolled, maybe 12 would hit for me. I was considered "good fun" at our shop because of this pattern. Anyways, I saw a few gaming pals at the shop playing some weird game with robots that I couldn't recognize, probably something new, and talked with them a bit. I wished them well, and decided to head back home.

The moment I got out of the shop, it began pouring. Great, icing on the cake as far as I was aware. I tried to drive back to the friend's place who let me borrow the car since I can't afford one with my income and rent balancing out. I explained the ticket to him, and that I'd need to use his car to get there, and he told me I better just walk from now on. I couldn't convince him to let me use it for anything for the next few weeks. So off I went to walk home in the pouring rain.

Here we are. I drop off my box of Gaunts and I just collapse on the couch. Today was bad, maybe even the worst in a while. It was going to be real tight for these next few weeks. Looking at my Gaunts, I'm thinking to myself that an Imperial wouldn't have to deal with like half of these problems. Do they even have to pay rent in that universe? Curious, I drag out my laptop, and just start reading articles on 40k. This is what I did to pass the time, usually. I really did enjoy the universe, especially the unique aliens in it. It helps that they looked cool as all get out. I kept reading more and more, getting lost in the knowledge as my problems just flew away.

Halfway through my search for knowledge on the science fiction, I got a call from Clare, my girlfriend. I gave it a solid few seconds of looking at her picture before I answer. A bit selfish, but give me a break. I press the answer button, and bring the phone up to my ear. "Man, it's been a day."

"Oh?" she answers in her sweet voice, broken up slightly by the bad wifi I get around here. Oh yeah, that was a problem too. "What's up?"
"Same old, same old, but I got a criminal record now. The box I got for my new models got soaked!"

"What?!" she asks, completely taken aback by what I just said.

"I know right?! I can't believe it just started pouring out of nowh-"

"No, the thing you said before that!"

It's always fun messing with her. It brings a big old smile to my face. "Same old? I didn't know routines got you this worked up."

"After that and before the box."

"Oh, yeah, I got a ticket."

There is silence for a moment to my casual statement. "I just about had a heart attack. Stop doing that!"

"You chose me, so as far as rights go, I have right of heart attack giving." It's a very technical right, you understand.

"What's that, some kind of right of way?"

"More or less."

"Oh okay," she replies less than enthusiastically, "How about we talk more about this over something to cheer you up. Coffee tomorrow morning?"

"Oh my gosh, a date with a girl I like? Count me in!" I replied as childishly as I could.

She giggles a bit before responding, "Yes, a date. We can talk about our feelings and everything."
I get my best businessman impression out of the locker, "Very official."

"Yes," she replies, just as stalwart, then drops the act, replying with, "I got to go right now, but I can't wait to see you again. It feels like it's been forever."

"Yeah. Can't wait to see you too."

"Don't forget: Our two year anniversary is in two weeks. Do you remember what day?" she quizzed.

I actually didn't know. I've just been zoning out with 40k stuff. "A pop quiz? Right now?!"

She laughs at my confusion, and says, "I think you know the day." How wrong you are at the moment. "I'll talk to you then. Bye!"

"Bye," I said before hearing the call going away sound. Two little beeps. Man, does she bring me some bona fide happiness sometimes. I'm glad I'm with her.

Back to nerding out. At some point, I think I passed out. My alarm should get me up.

I know for a fact that I woke up somewhere that wasn't my couch. I'm decently sure my heater wasn't on either. Why was it so hot? My eyes didn't really feel much like opening, but when they tried, I got blasted by a lot of light. Was I staring at a lamp?! Why would I stare at a lamp before dozing off? I try to force my eyes open, my whole body system rebelling against me. Eventually, it happens, and I meet with the source of my issues.

That is… Not a lamp. Nor is it really a light. In fact, it was the ground. It was some kind of asphalt with sand around it. Glaringly bright sand. Last I recall, I was nowhere near a desert. In fact, last I recall I was inside my house, passed out on the couch. What happened? Did I get dragged out in the middle of the night and somehow transported across the entire United States into Arizona or something?

Looking around, I see a grand total of six buildings, all of which appear to be around this street I'm looking at. They look to be made of some weird clay brick stuff. They had tarps out of the front of them, and there were even some people in weird outfits hanging out outside a few, speaking about whatever. A few even gave me odd looks that I couldn't say that I appreciated. Did… Did I get hauled off to the Middle East? Were the last seven years of my life a fever dream as I was drafted to join the Gulf War? I have so many questions, all of which can't be answered by me sitting here. At least I'm under one of these tarps, so it's nice and shaded.

Unfortunately, I feel a hard jolt as a shoe kicks into the side of my leg. I didn't even see the guy approach me. He has a mustache, a bit curly, and a turban on. His skin color is that of an Indian and he's got a pretty thick accent as he says, "Get out of here, deadbeat! You've been sleeping outside my building for an hour! You're lucky I haven't called the police on you."
An hour? I motion to get myself up, saying, "Sorry, I didn't notice I was nodding off so bad. I had a pretty bad day." Hopefully that explanation flies.

His brow furrows greatly. "Oh, you've had a bad day? I guess that excuses driving off my customers," he says, some kind of sarcasm rolling off his tongue, "Get out of here! Go on!" He makes shooing motions with his hands. It is only now I see he has a firearm at his hip. Not any sort of model I recognize, although it looks like a pistol.

"Alright, alright, I'll get out of your hair!" I assent, getting up fully and wandering out into the strange little… Village, I guess? I wasn't going to risk this guy pointing a gun at me.

"By the Emperor, I swear people are getting dumber by the years…" the guy complains, heading back into his building.

Wait.

He didn't just say…

Oh no.

I take a moment to internally scream, and decide that denial, for now, is a better strategy than standing around freaking out. He most certainly did not say anything about an Emperor, and if he did, it was the Emperor of Iraq. Unless… If we're in Iraq, why was he speaking English? I didn't even think about it: Everyone here is speaking English. Also, looking down, I'm in my clothes I slept in. Jeans, white t-shirt, and boots. These aren't combat fatigues or anything like that.

Nevermind, having a panic attack is in season. Let's face the facts: I am in a desert village place with an Emperor ruling over it in my regular clothes and people are speaking my language. Cool. Great. I am being stared at by people. Again, awesome. Fantastic. Everything in the last twenty four hours of my life can be, at best, described as not optimal. I can work with this, though.

I start by walking on down the street. In fact, I am probably going to skip town if I can. Then again, I'd need to talk with some locals to find out where the nearest town is or some place I can find out more. Actually, now thinking about it, I could just walk up to people and ask them. I'm already a weirdo to them, no point trying to hide it, right?

My plan was now in motion. I'm walking towards this one dude I have my eyes on, just going dead on. I can't be bothered trying to sneak on over to him, everyone's practically already fully aware of my presence. The guy looks at me with what I think is discomfort. I'm not any more enthusiastic about this then you, pal.

I put my hand up when I'm around fifteen feet away, "Hey there, can you help me?"
The man seems to shudder a bit as I approach, and says, "Don't come any closer," he says, holding out a hand.
I raise an eyebrow at this and stop. "Okay, I'll stand right here. Can you help me?"
The man looks at me with some wild look, looking around the area, as if trying to find some escape. It doesn't appear like he can find any sort of route out of there, thankfully for me and not thankfully for thee, and responds, "Eh… I can try? W-what do you want from me?"

Short analysis: I scare everyone. Why would that be? Working with the assumption that I may still be on Earth, which is looking less and less likely by the minute, there might be a few reasons. Could be because I'm an American. I'm not here to mug you for your oil at the moment, so I can't really place it at the moment. Let's start with a pretty basic question following a perfect excuse, "I think I had a bit much to drink last night. Do you know where I am?"
"Ehm," the man began. I think he is actually sweating from talking to me. "Y-you're in Qida'ba."
This answers nothing in a satisfactory way. "And… In what country am I in?"
The man tilts his head. "C-country?"
If I'm in the ass end of nowhere, this makes sense that they don't know what a country is. However, since they have firearms, I doubt this a little bit. Let's broaden the search, "Come on, we live on Earth, right? Where on Earth are we?"
"Uh… We're in Qida'ba?"
I grow tired of this charade. "Okay yes, but where is here in relation to the universe?" Hopefully this gets through to him. If this is still on Earth, then he might even laugh at my-

"Segmentum Ultima, Thalos II? I don't know what you're asking for, s-sir," the man says, still looking around, "I-I have a family, I have to get back to them!"

My face is one of two things: In surprise, or in despair. Maybe both. I back up a tiny bit, and turn away, "Yeah, go do that, I'll just um… Process things over…" I heard him running off in the middle of what I was saying. I give up on talking to him when I start hearing that.

Okay. So. I am in 40k, yes? Yes. I am on a desert world loyal to the Imperium. Probably loyal. Unless there's some secret Chaos Cult all around the globe. Planet. Not globe. Maybe technically globe? I don't know what's the right terminology here!

Oh no, my hands lifted to the sides of my head while I wasn't looking, and now everyone's staring at me while I'm panicking. I bet you they're thinking I look like some kind of Psyker having a Warp attack. I hate this feeling. I need to get away from all this. Preferably right now.

I start walking in just any direction. I wasn't picky right now. I think I passed into some alleyway between buildings. I had to get out of the heat, I felt. So if I'm here, 38,000 years in the grim dark future where only war exists, that means… Oh shit, my date with Clare. No! I could miss work, I could have explained that away. I could have even explained it to Clare with a simple, "Ha ha I got drafted!" but this? My hand instinctively drifts to my pocket.

I feel the contents of my pocket. I have my phone? My keys too. I pull out the phone and hold it up. I press the button with a desperate feeling overtaking me. I had to let her know. At the very least, I'd be late. At the most… I'll never see her again. I can't do long distance. Or… Well, parallel dimensions, I guess.

The phone screen comes alive. I offer a thankful gaze upwards to whoever's looking. I look back down and unlock it. Peering at the bars in the top right… No. Of course not. Why would there be wifi in the grim darkness of the 41st millennium? It says on the tin "there is only war". No wifi in war.

I feel my face deaden slowly. I check my non-wifi related stuff, like my libraries and notes. Yep, I have my music. Downsides: No wifi, no girlfriend, no home, no NOTHING. Positives: I have an entire Powerwolf album. Woooo. This makes everything better.

I'm gonna die here.

I start laughing a bit at the sheer absurdity of what position I've found myself in. I just wanted to have a bad night of sleep, and this is what happens. Putting my phone away, I lean on a building for a bit of support. Standing was getting a tad bit more difficult.

"Eh you. Stranger. What're you doin' over there?" I hear somebody ask behind me.

"And I can't even get a break," I mutter out loud. I don't care if he heard it. I turn my head around, and there's two guys with rifles in their hands. They look like assault rifles rather than lasguns. Probably… What were they called? Autoguns? Grand. Looks like they had some vests on as well as turbaned helmets. "Just despairing a tiny bit, officer," I earnestly answer, "And I'd like to get back to it."

The police officer says, "Yeah, see, that's a bit of a problem. We've been getting some uh… Reports of disturbance. Yeah. We think that was you."

I tilt my head a bit. I just asked a guy some questions and woke up. You can't tell me… Wait. I have a ticket back home that I have to pay. How was I gonna afford rent? I shake my head, and strain, "I think you got the wrong guy."

"I'm getting all kinds of… Off feelings from you," the officer says. Is he sweating too? I can see his trigger finger twitching, despite a glove being on it. "So, I'm going to give you three options of how this is gonna go."

"Generous today, aren't we?" I reply looking back down to the ground. Yes, I'm gonna die here. At least I won't have to pay that ticket, right? There's no rent in hell. Well… Warp? Where would I go in this case?

"You're lucky I'm feeling that way, stranger. First option: You resist arrest, and I shoot you dead right here right now."

"I don't like that option," I blurt out, my lack of filter showing. I won't live kneeling, I'll die being the dumbass I am.

That seems to get a chuckle out of the two of them, and the guy responds, "I thought not. You don't seem too stupid, so maybe option two is more your speed. I take you to the judgement room, and you get processed for your crimes."

Guilty until proven innocent, yeah? Or maybe they just have so many criminals coming in, it's just easier this way. I didn't have a good wise crack for that one.

"Option three is just because we're a bit low on manpower in this district. You join the Defense Force. No questions asked. I can feel we'd have a use for a guy with your… Whatever you do."

I look back over to them, then back at the ground. What? Defense Force? Am I getting drafted into some kind of national guard of the planet? I look back over and ask, "Defense Force? What's that and what does it entail?"

"The Planetary Defense Force. Also known as us, the guys in charge. You go through basic training, about three days worth, we hand you a gun, and you do patrols for us for a couple years. We'll keep this incident quiet if you join up with us."

The opportunity of a life ti- Wait a second here. "Three days? Isn't that kind of short for… Well, the planet's defenders?"

"You get used to it. A few months in, you'll know how to deal with problems," the guy responds. I'm feeling some intense sleaze here. This feels more like a recruitment for the mafia than the 'heroic first defense' I would think of from such a name like Planetary Defense Force. Well, it gives me something to do.

"Room and board? Pay?" I ask, very curious.

"Provided by the Talos people. Pay won't afford you much, but if you need some sticks, they can get you something."

Sticks? Yeah, alright, this is very mafia-esque. I'm in, I guess. I don't want to be in, but servitorization or incarceration are my alternatives. Oh, and nonconsensual bullet based lobotomy, but I didn't think about that one too much. I nod my head, and confirm, "Alright. I'll join the Defense Force."

"Then get in the truck," the man points his thumb off in a direction, "Follow us." He turns around, and the other guy keeps an eye on me.

Might as well. If they're gonna bag and tag me when we're outside town, I'll totally get it and honestly, it's what I expect. I don't fancy my chances running. I pick up my feet after the main guy.

My eyes gaze over to the other guy, and I can see him kind of sweating and recoiling as soon as I approach close enough. I didn't realize it until now, but I'm about half a foot taller than most of these guys. I am a pretty tall guy, I just don't exactly have the muscle to back it up. Maybe everyone has been thinking I'm some kind of wicked creature based on my body? Heh, I scare little man with gun. I monster.

As I smile to myself at my own dumb jokes, the guy is walking me a little bit out of the vicinity of the town. I see some kind of jeep off in the distance with a heavier looking machine gun mounted on the back of it. It's very blocky except for the wheels.

"So uh… What's your name, friend?" the man asks, not looking back.

"It's…" I begin to unconsciously respond, but then think about it. If I'm really stuck in 40k, I can be anyone I want at this very point. I didn't have to be… Me, I guess. I could be someone else. Besides, I need a fitting name. Who's going to believe 'Antonio' as a name around here? It's gonna be a little bit weird, but I need something. Something… Desert-y.

"It's?" the man looks back, slowing a bit.

I got it. I smile a bit, not trying to laugh as I have the perfect name. "It's Ali Ababwa."