Iconoclasts:

"Why?"

That one word stirs you, breaking through the haze of malice and spite that plagues your mind.

It rings throughout your mind, awakening something within you as the sound reverberates

through the air.

Why?

That was the word you spoke so long ago, as a priest and flock tore your family apart and left

you alone. It was the same word that asked yourself as you saw countless fools through lies

away for demagogues who wouldn't lift a finger to help them in their time of need.

It was the same word which you asked yourself as astartes, spending countless hours off the

battlefield studying histories and sciences both human and xenos as you sought to find the truth

behind the cosmos. The same word left your lips as saw whole words devoured by hateful

creeds and the anodyne words of mad men and fools.

It was also the word spoken to you as you cast down the false idols and put priests to the pyre.

Finally it was the word spoken by cousins as we burned their homeworld to the ground, to set

an example that the Imperial creed cannot be tolerated.

All throughout your life, that word has made you, it has defined you in a way that you cannot

express. You were always inquisitive, unlike others could not simply just "be". No, you must

question, you must find the answers to life even if it killed you. How ironic was it that knowledge

damned you, if anyone could truly consider "damned" that is.

Even more ironic is that you are reminded of a verse from a long dead religion, but that seems

so appropriate for the moment: "The greater the knowledge, the greater the grief". What a great

grief indeed, for there were many things man was not meant to know. Which makes it all the

more cruel that so many of us are born with a desire to learn, how much more merciful it would

have been had we remained as mere beasts.

A painful cough jolts you out of your introspection and towards the one who had uttered the

word which sparked these thoughts. Rain poured down from the sky, as if the heavens were

trying to wash the sins of the earth. You pause to take in the sounds of anarchy and mayhem as

you turn to look at a downed PDF trooper, clutching his sides as his blood trickled across the

rooftop.

The man was unremarkable, little different from the countless mortals you have seen and cut

down in your life. His blue and white uniform was stained with his blood and the rest of his

squad. He was brave, you had to admit, for coming up to face you. Either that or was foolish,

sometimes it can be hard to tell the two apart, though you suppose in this circumstance that

they are one and the same.

Something compels you to speak to him, perhaps it is boredom, maybe it is pride, for what even

your lot are not immune to desire to gloat. No, it is something altogether more base, it is spite.

You want to break him, as you were broken, you want to prove that you were not weak, you

want to prove that anyone who was consistent would do as you have done. You tower over the

trooper, your shadow enveloping him. You are surprised to see resistance flare in his eyes, you

are going to enjoy this.

"Fear not the enemy, for the Emperor knows his schemes and he is most-" the trooper began

before you cut him off. "Merciful in all his ways, and he shall pay back the wicked their due" you

finished. You revile in his surprise that you know of the verse.

"That was Surah fourteen verse five. I know the book of the Prophet, I was alive when he wrote

it" you continue. A wry smile curls around your face as you see disbelief rise in the trooper. "But

traitors cannot know the words of the Prophet" he meekly replied. You laugh, a dark and cold

laughter that would send chills through even the strongest men.

"Many of us know that damned book, especially the Calphs that have turned that backs on your

corpse Emperor". You feel no small satisfaction to reveal the fact that even the Prophet's sons

can turn their backs on the Imperium. You watch him squirm under the thought and you enjoy it,

perhaps too much before you speak again.

"And speaking of the Prophet, if he were still alive he would aghast at the state of humanity.

Khalid once wept at the sight of a single child perishing in battle. Imagine what he would think of

the countless billions lost in your so-called holy wars as collateral. And all for what? So that you

can survive for just one more day? He would hate you and what you have become".

You watch as the trooper slowly digests what say, you see years of religious indoctrination fight

against logic and reason. Slowly but surely you see reason start to win out and despair set in.

"Think for yourself, do you really think that God cares for you? Do you really think there is some

sort of plan for this?" You say as you motion towards the chaos enveloping the city around you

as hundreds die by the second.

"You think that I hate you, no, I pity you. I too sought answers from above. But the reality is that

there is no God, not really. There are things claiming to be such. In reality there is no truth, no

objective rationality, there is nothing". You watch once more as the words wash over him.

Trembling, he reaches to his side arm. The pistol is of threat to you, so stand still as he pulls it

out.

"You have three choices now, the first you can lie to yourself and retreat to your anodyne cage

of false teachings before I kill you. The second is to embrace nihilism, serve Malal as we undo

the mistake of intelligent life and bring it to a merciful end. The third is to follow your subjective

logic to its ultimate conclusion"

You stand there a few moments as he makes his decision. You watch as his expression turns

dark, his side arm raises and he presses the pistol to his head and he pulls the trigger. You feel

vindication as his skull explodes from the impact of the bullet. As the blood brain matter falls to

the ground, that dreaded word echoes once more in your mind.

Why?