Surprise! Okay, sorry for being gone for so long. Life has been... a trainwreck... A trainwreck that just kept getting worse the longer it has been going on and it is still going worse. And that is just talking about my life and not the times we are all living in. But worry not everyone. I, Don Orbit, your German fanfiction writer for fun brings you a little something today.
For context, I'm relatively new to the Warhammer fandom and it was an acquaintance and good friend here that introduced me to the franchise, which goes to show that the community here can rock and be decent. So cheers to all of you beautiful sons of guns.
Now for those who might not be aware of this, I for one hate the Death Guard traitors. To be fair, all traitors are messed up in one way or another just like all the other blokes in the 41s or now 42nd millennium. But as much as I do like Mortarion as a character I also despise the Death Guard who are just second to the Emperor's Children in my book of most hated traitor legions.
However, as much as I dislike those guys and having just finished my very first Warhammer 40.000 novel ever "Lords of Silence" by Chris Wraight for those who are curious, I have had this idea in my mind for quite a while now when my opinion of the Death Guard was not as bad as it is now. (And I might or might not have been motivated further by the statement of a certain dreadnought of the Adeptus Custodes: "We need a DADDY.")
Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time to write stories like I used to have before, so here is a short teaser for an upcoming short story... Well short in the sense that it will just be one chapter and this is a sneak peak to get you all interested in it.
Now without further ado, lights, camera, action!
Disclaimer: I don't own BioShock or Warhammer 40.000. All rights belong to their respective owners.
Sneak Peak: Virulent Father
Water dripped from overhanging pipes down to the ground where it had formed large puddles on the once pristine tiled floors of the hallways of Rapture. Now said tiles were cracked and broken, allowing the water to flow through the cracks like veins and run deeper into the structure, progressing its overall decay. The moisture had promoted the rusting of the structures and mold and algea spread across the floors and walls. Once this place had been a luxurious night club where the wealthy in their fine garbs would amuse themselves and enjoy the pleasures of flesh that their wealth could buy. Now though, it was little more than an abandoned ruin with its once fine interior broken, rusting and rotting away. Elegant cloths had faded and torn as they weathered the elements for so long. Cracks in the ground had filled with water, creating shallow pools where the floor had caved in for one reason or another. The only thing that had somehow managed to survive was the coloured lights that dyed the room in a soft red glow.
Once created to be an utopia away from the rest of the world by an idealistic genius of a man, Rapture had become little more than a hidden ruins that was filled with nothing but death and decay. And that was why he felt right at home, even though he had no idea how he had gotten there.
Loud footsteps echoed through the empty hallways as he was making his way through the dilapidated corridors, heavy ceramite boots crushing tiles and debris beneath him. The many gifts of the Grandfather had manifested on his body and his armour and grown bountiful. His armour, once little more than cold machine, had become alive with not just the machine spirits of its servos, but actually growing into something more organic. The faded green plates had grown sharp fangs, horns and pustules at some places. Like many of his kind, he could no longer remove his helmet, but like so many alterations to is body over the course of millennia, removing the battered and dented Mark VII helmet was the least of his concerns.
In one hand he was holding a large drill. Not the tool of an apothecary, but one that he had taken from one of the lumbering creatures that roamed this place. Some of them had been decent fellows, but the one he had taken it from had been rather rude and attacked him as soon as they had seen him. He still recalled the many red glowing lenses on its helmet as it charged at him with a mad howl, driven insane by untold years of isolation and the madness of this place. They had been weak, but their tool was making for a good armament.
It had even taken on some of the gifts of his patron, having rusted and sharp teeth having grown around the cone along the length of the spiral. It was not like the chainblade that he had once owned before coming here that dripped with noxious poisons, but it still was a good weapon that had served him well in the years he had roamed this place. Not to mention that most of the weapons he found in this place were simply too small for him to use.
As he was walking through the corridor, that once would have led to the lounges at the back of the nightclub where men and women alike would enjoy each other's company for whatever debased acts they partook in while not having prying eyes on them, the place became more and more putrid. Decay had truly settled into this place that he often frequented. Algea, moss, lichen and fungi had taken root in this place while breaking down furniture and cloth alike, while rust covered the exposed metal structures behind the rotten tapestries and wallpapers. He stopped for a moment to look at an expansive-looking and ornate vase with a bouquet of artificial roses in it. Taking it out, he looked at it for a moment as if contemplating what to do with it, before, crashing the cheap imitation of life beneath his fingers and casting the broken remains into a pool of putrid water.
Something beneath the almost black water moved towards the broken and fake flowers and the water splashed. When the water calmed once more, the artifices of life had disappeared and only ripples on the surface remained for a short moment.
He let out an amused huff before moving on to the destination of his walk.
The nightclub had two entries that also functioned as its exists as well as a third one that led to a hidden supply tunnel where the employees would get their food supply into the now abandoned storage room. His goal was the second entrance which directly led to a part that once housed the hab units of this corner of Rapture. Once men and women lived in those luxurious apartments, though now they were all abandoned. In part, he was the reason for that. He stopped in front of a large rusted door, which set itself apart by a particularly advanced decay. The metal bulkhead door was not merely rusted, but it was also sprouting moss and fungi in the holes the rust had eaten into the structure. Just below the wheel, he sported something that was not the result of decay though. A childish drawing of a horned humanoid figure with a round body and two other figures next to it. One was shorter with a triangular body to resemble a dress. The other was taller than the second one with a round head and a circle in the middle behind a grid like a diver suit's helmet.
He couldn't help but let out a sound akin to distant thunder that was him chuckling as he looked at the drawing that was clearly meant to be and then down his own bloated body, which had caused the ceramite of his armour to indeed swell outward like a beer belly. A beer belly full off bacteria and parasites, but round indeed. If he still had a mouth, he'd have smiled slightly, before grabbed the wheel and turning it. The rusted metal screeched and squealed in protest, but it yielded under his strength with ease. Opening the door and stepping inside, the place was suprisingly less putrid than the door or the former night club, even though the floor was wet and covered in moss, while the walls were also lined with unnatural plant life in which vermin moved around like thick centipedes, pill bugs, roaches and worms. here and there some sort of lilies had also sprouted from the walls with fragile looking, violet and blue petals, bringing a bit more colour into the otherwise monotonous brown and green into the place. Closing the door behind him, he turned around to see a hallway leading into an open living area. He didn't move further though as he awaited a routine that he had settled in some time ago...
"Ah! Daddy!" A young cheerful voice cried out followed by the soft tapping of quick footsteps. From behind a corner a small silhouette emerged. A young girl with unnaturally yellow glowing eyes and dressed up in a slightly torn victorian dress. Her dirty brown hair was braided with a small ponytail at the back of the head. Her skin was a strange blueish gray with hues of green mixing into it, but other than that she sported no other mutations. Other than those two obvious inhumane traits, she looked like a normal, young albeit dirty girl.
She ran towards him in a hurry, her face split in a wide cheerful smile as she looked at the plague marine with no fear and not the slightest bit of discomfort or disgust. To her, he was simply her daddy.
She was so caught up in her joy that her feet tripped over a lump of moss, creating a slightly uneven bump on the ground.
The Plague Marine, while slower than how he used to be, lowered his body down on one knee and raised his arms to catch the young girl gently the moment her foot made contact with the obstacle. She stumbled and hopped on one leg, trying her best to regain her balance with her arms flailing around, only to fall right into his hands. His hand was easily larger than her head or her torso. It was strange to him how fragile she sometimes seemed to be. Especially when she was dressed up like a doll. Looking up at him with big yellow eyes, she smiled sheepishly.
"Welcome home, daddy." She said with a beaming smile. The Plague Marine gently helped her onto her feet.
"I'm back." He said, before standing back up. At this the girl took one of his fingers in both of her hands and led him deeper into their home.
"Play with me daddy." She said before turning to him, bringing a finger to her lips. "Psst. But quietly. Big sister is sleeping." The transhuman mimicked her gesture, bringing a finger to the vox grid of his helmet, dripping with putrid fluids.
"Then we better don't wake her..." He said quietly as he patted her on her head, causing her smile widen slightly and to giggle slightly. Something that filled him with joy and he knew that he would protect that smile.