Authors note:
I would just like to say that I'm really sorry for not uploading more chapters as often as I'd like. These last weeks in my life have been complicated, to say the least. But don't worry, I'll carry on with this story and upload the next chapter on Tuesday. I truly thank you for waiting and hope you enjoy this chapter.
Sincerely, Lewis II
Disclaimer:
This story is a fan fiction of my own creation inspired by various sources. Both Darth Vader and Darth Sidious along with any Star Wars franchise reference belong to Lucasfilm, while all secondary characters, environment and locations belong to Games Workshop. I do not claim any ownership of the source material. This story was created for entertainment purposes and not intended to be linked directly to either the Star Wars universe or the Warhammer 40,000 universe official canons. All rights reserved to the respective owners.
My sincere thanks to George Lucas, Rick Priestly, Andy Chambers and all the people in charge of creating and expanding both of these fantastic universes.I hope you can keep fascinating and inspiring many generations to come.
I also appreciate all who collaborated in the editing of this fanfic with their comments, and above all my readers. Love you guys.
41st Millennium: A Star Wars Story
By: Lewis II
Original Idea by:
YouTube (2018). " Could Darth Vader survive in Warhammer 40k?" Commissar Gamza: YouTube. From: /p0czd32HPQw
YouTube (2018). " Could Darth Sidious survive in Warhammer 40k?" Commissar Gamza: YouTube. From: /p0czd32HPQw
Logo by Lewis II, both emblems are property of Games Workshop and Lucasfilm
Chapter 3:
The thief
It was a hot day. the smell of death was in the air as the sun rose above the spires and towers of Mediolanum. The first strokes of daylight fell over the lower levels as the noise of the manufactorums became stronger, marking the beginning of a new labor turn. The relentless sound of machines was just below deafening: engines buzzing, metal clanking, pistons and hammers stomping, electricity running, chimneys burning.
The servitors carried the bundles of armor plates and steel chassis to be shipped and assembled on other worlds into vehicles and armor. They always made sure to calculate the ideal weight for their mechanical augmentations in order to maximize their performance. That was their best and only function. This was all that remained of their existence after all, as once sentient and emotional beings they betrayed The Emperor's will and were confined to be soulless slaves. Their fellow workers were considered the scum of this world, minor offenders of the Imperium. Confined to the assembly lines and raw material processing under constant surveillance of the mechanicus.
In the midst of this organized chaos, few noticed a ball of light flashing on a dark corner close. It could be as well another working blowtorch. But it was the way of entry for an old and fragile man, which erratically walked away from the flashing light. He stood up wearing a dark and sober tunic with a hood, seemingly clean and untouched by the lighting. A taller figure with a glowing mask approached and pushed him around as he calmly walked into the production line. He turned around and quickly tried to imitate the movement of the others. The strange man gazed around him and saw no familiar faces. Above him, a glass window covered with ashes depicted a symbol he had never seen: a two headed eagle. It was clear for him this world was beyond his knowledge. His hood was removed from behind. A gray and hideously wrinkled man with pristine white hair, red and yellow eyes and inexpressive mouth. Not so different from the rest. Yet his presence was too somber and restrained compared to the ones around him. The elder kept his work while his neck twitched and his face frowned, as if he was attempting to remember something. He then heard amidst all the thunderous noise, a single drop falling to the floor.
His sharp nose confirmed his suspicions: blood. The smell of gunpowder and the sound of fear. All came from the same direction, from a single source. He grabbed the nearest crate and went on to find it.
Several hours ago, the public waste automatic car passed by one of the narrow streets as many doors opened and rushing figures placed containers on it. Few others threw body bags and severed limbs of servitors. Few minutes later, 5 hooded men jumped into the car, scavenging between the servitor parts for hydraulic augmentations or electronic components and rushing into the nearest alley.
As they gathered to check the loot, one nervously whispered: "This is Sorvitax territory and you know it." The one next to him replied:
"Then we must be quick and we shall be gone before they notice."
As soon as the man finished, 7 men shot them with rifles and pistols. The hooded men ran away from their attackers, clinging as many parts as they could to their chests. The shooters came up from the shadows, revealing men with bronze , grey and pink colored skins, covered by tattoos with intricate patterns and helmets made from different kinds of skulls, from small animals to fully fleshed human skulls. The thinnest of them pulled a knife and readied himself to run after the only two survivors before being stopped by their leader, the tallest of them, with a hand gesture.
He then spoke with a coarse,monotonous voice: "Leave them. The dogs always leave a trail back to their master."
The remaining bodies were looted and dismembered to be put in bags by the others. They might be worth a few credits with the correct butcher. Some of their body fluids could be distilled for water or chems.
The youngest of the fleeing pair separated from his partner and rushed back to his living quarters, while watching his back for any tracker. He paused before entering the barracks and removed his blood stained boots, he would clean them later. His abdomen had been graced by shotgun pellets. He pressed on the wound with rags as he entered the cramped dormitory, where his coworkers enjoyed their scarce three hours of sleep. He bit a dirty shirt while he extracted the shards from his wounds and poured a small bottle of industrial alcohol on them. He used sheets of paper and adhesive tape to try to conceal his injury. As the pain faded away he found a place to sleep. It had been a rough night. No bounty had been recovered, one of his friends died, no big score, only valuable hours of sleep wasted. Perhaps the metal he extracted would be worth something tomorrow. After waking up and cleaning his boots, he entered his normal working shift. His muscles ached and his lack of sleep made his eyelids heavier than usual. He tried to appear normal as he felt a shadow behind him. Someone was walking towards him. He then saw an old man carrying a crate of metal parts. His red and yellow eyes were unnerving, but his wrinkles soothed him as such an elder could not be a threat.
The elder stood aside him, putting the crate on the floor. The young man then decided to break the silence as friendly as possible:
"You are new, right? I have never seen you. Those eyes are from intense heat. Let me guess, Voracum?"
"Perhaps." the old man said playfully.
"Those poor bastards are always close to be burned alive. No wonder many escape here." responded the young man.
The elder looked down as if to prove himself right about his assumptions.
"I see you are wounded." the elder said softly.
"It is nothing." replied the worker while still attending his duty. The moment he finished, the worker felt immense pain.
"You will guide me to your leader." stated the elder. The young man gazed into his eyes with fear and impotence, as it seemed he was being tortured without a single finger being laid on him.
The senior kept opening his wound and tearing his skin apart as the man struggled not to scream in pain and keep working. He nodded as tear rolled down his face.
"After my shift, please. Or my family will suffer." he whispered
"Now. Or your family will die." the ancient replied.
A dark figure, accompanied by two security guards approached them. It was the head Constructor Tech-Priest. He activated his voice translator and addressed them both with a menacing tone:
"What is it you are doing?"
"We are to be taken for waste disposal duty." the ancient answered.
"They are to be taken for waste disposal duty… carry on with it" the Tech-Priest said to the guards while pointing at them. The guards pushed them with their batons into the waste disposal bay.
They both ran away from the manufactorum as soon as they were left alone and the young man took the lead. They passed through narrow alleys and nets of pipelines, barely covered by the sun as the day faded away. They arrived at a black wooden door, where a trail of blood followed under the entrance. The pair stopped by order of the old one, as to rest and meditate their next step.
"The entrance to the main hall, where the boss can be mostly found. Please I beg you, let me go now. If I come in they will kill me." the young one cried.
"You have been useful to me. What is your name young one?" The ancient said
"Karriven." he mumbled
"Do my bidding, Karriven. And you shall fear no more." the elder stated.
They entered the small warehouse, where a prominent, nearly colossal, wooden chair stood at the center over a pedestal, emulating some kind of throne hall. A group of hooded men surrounded a corpse leaning on the wall. It was Karriven's partner. They turned to see the pair and behind them, an outstanding shadow appeared. A gargantuan bloated humanoid with large arms and thick neck: an Ogryn. His kind was known to be brutes, working mules for the furnaces. But he was known to be ahead of the curve.
"Whoiz dees shit ?" The Ogryn boss shouted
"You have some serious explaining to do, K. " one of the hooded men stated out loud while unsheathing a long and rusty knife. His fellow gang members readied their weapons as well, being mostly blades or blunt weapons which could channel electricity.
"We mean no harm." said the elder calmly.
"You will only speak when you are told to do so." mentioned one of the hooded men as he put his sword over the old man's throat.
"Address the Great Dirk again and we shall hang you from a chimney using your own entrails." He was restrained by the hand of his leader, at the time the Great Dirk approached this seemingly calm and friendly old man.
"'Watis it you want from de Coal hand?" inquired Dirk .The elder smiled.
Outside, footsteps were heard. The Sorvitax had followed the blood trail to the small door was broken, the gang bursted inside guns blazing but found no resistance. As the smoke from the barrels settled down, they found something beyond their expectations.
The hall was all covered in blood. A pile of dismembered corpses sat at a corner. A massive corpse dangled from the ceiling and two figures were now by the big throne, it was Karriven and the old one with the head of the Great Dirk at their feet. In front of the elder, a pile of electronic and mechanical parts was arranged ready for the taking. Not a word being said, the Sorvitax pillaged the accumulated loot and took the pair as hostages to their lair. Entering an abandoned sewer entrance which connected to the ancient part of the underhive, where tunnels were guarded by the Sorvitax and connected rooms served as laboratories and dorm rooms. They were brought to the main hall to be heard and later executed. It was a dark hall with brick walls, full of loot and guns. At the end stood a throne hall with a bright blue cloaked man sitting on it, it was the mob leader. He ordered his men to release them and stand down with a hand gesture, then stood up and walked towards his new guests:
"Who are you ?" Asked with a mocking tone as he chuckled in disbelief. His grey eyes swiftly scanned both of his prisoners. His brown face skin wrinkled slightly as to indicate a laugh or smile. He turned his eyes to Karriven as he saw his lips moving.
"I- I am the one you expected."
Karriven stuttered.
"I expected no…" he stopped his phrase as he walked to the elder. He then changed his expression to surprise and turned to the young one as if he received great news. The leader returned to his place and standing with both arms open addressed his men with an expressive yet unsettling scowl. All the time he spoke from that moment on, few saw the elder's lips moving along, even whispering.
"My brothers. We have found him! I have been looking for him, and now he has come to us!" said the leader with potent voice.
" He shall become your heir and the only head of this organization should anything happen to you." the elder whispered.
"He shall become my heir and only head of this organization should anything happen to me." The leader spoke out loud. His men were standing as mere spectators, some shook their heads in denial while others turned elsewhere in shame. Despite believing it or not, the men knew these two strangers were powerful and it would not be wise to turn against them.
"This is Sidious. My lieutenant and most trusted man." Karriven continued while pointing at the elder. "He must stay here to plan our next big score. I have prepared it for months now and I have to make sure everything is ready. We shall meet tomorrow." The leader nodded. Sidious stepped forward and walked towards the leader, which received him with a grin and put his arm over his shoulders as they walked away.
"Escort him out, get ready for tomorrow men." That is all that was heard in the hall before the pair was split up.
Karriven walked directly back to the living quarters, with his new bodyguards leaving him at the entrance. His dormitory partners stared at him as he roamed back to his bed. His expression was of terror and his head was full of doubt. He slept as well as he could, thanking The Emperor their plan had worked and that he was still alive. Still, it was clear for him that he was no longer safe.
The next morning, a party of Sorvitax was waiting for him at the entrance of the manofactorum. The strongest of them addressed him:
"The boss is dead. It is time, my lord."
The young one was escorted by the party as they made their way back to their lair. Inside, a row of his new men kneeled before him and nodded in approval on his way to the main hall. He saw one of them writing an inscription on the wall: Graziel, Son of Wisdom. The name of their former leader.
He was covered with a dark blue cloak and sat on the throne with Sidious by his side. a tribute was presented to him: A basket with the heads of those who tried to desert the organization. A tarnished Bolt pistol was handed to him. It was Graziel's sidearm, so he was later told.
" Do not forget who put you here." Sidious softly whispered as Karriven's expression changed into victorious pride.
Karriven held the pistol in the air and stood up in front of his men.
All the Sorvitax raised their firearms, as well as swords and other weapons made of scrap metal. They shouted repeatedly in unison:
"All hail Karriven The Merciless!"
And so it was how Karriven became leader of the Sorvitax, and a new crime lord at gunpoint.
He knew he would die should he disobeyed Sidious, but at least he was now ahead of many problems he shared with most of the city. Food has been scarce for decades and those who have access to it live at the Pinnacle, where the hive guard have still enough fire power to suppress any riot. The tax on the oxygen supply had recently increased for those few who still needed to breathe. Tribes and families dominated districts as gangs. The powerful Mechanicus sect received new implants, new bionic parts, new electronic antiquities every day to turn a blind eye on the crimes of the underhive. Some even received parts from below the lower levels, as it was believed the wisdom of the ancient world had a stronger link with the Omnissiah.
It was a cruel system of greed and violence. The perfect template to create a new empire.
The biggest and most dangerous of the 5 hive cities was the crown jewel of Vorlanthus IV, and yet few could withstand the daily grind within its walls. Soon enough, it would become the heart of the world and the home of its new ruler: Sidious.
And within the dungeons of his new base of operations, as he meditated to strengthen his grip on The Force, something whispered to him...