Day 270, Year 986 of the 41st Millennium
Lower Hive — Between Zone Z and Zone E
The beam from the laser rifle flashed in the darkness… several "pew!"s rang out as Eric de la Cruz — "Erica," as everyone called him — stood aiming at the towering figure before him. The red ray struck the skull-shaped helmet dead center, but nothing happened.
His weapon did nothing beyond leaving a faint scorch on the deep blue armor, which was marked with a bat-wing-like emblem and patched with what looked disturbingly like human skin. There was no blood, no holes, not even a dent — as if he had fired at a several-inch-thick steel wall.
"I see you… you're trembling. Cute little gun you have there — a toy for ordinary humans… just a lassgun," a deep, metallic voice issued from behind the skull helm, sounding as if metal were grinding bone. Eric felt the ground vibrate under his feet and took a step back. The night-vision feed he'd taped to his weapon showed the armor in unsettling detail: what he'd taken for a cloak was stitched human hide, and small heads hung from the belt. This was monstrous.
"What are you… a cyborg? Some experimental power-armor of the Imperium's troops…?" Eric murmured. He hardly knew what he faced; his mind scrambled for an explanation, but it all collapsed a moment later as the thing began to move.
"Ceramite-coated plaststeel — lassguns are useless against me," it said, advancing. Eric squeezed the trigger again, unleashing a burst of red beams at its chest, but the light sheared off as if reflected from thick metal. The figure barely flinched.
"How fun… smooth skin… that shape… that voice — I expect you'll scream rather nicely," it chuckled. Then the red lenses in its helmet fixed on Eric. The words drained the color from his face; he swallowed hard as his hands began to tremble. This was not an enemy for ordinary humans. Raul, standing behind them, sank to his knees, clutching his head.
"By the Emperor… that's… a Chaos Marine — a heretic!" Raul cried out in panic. Castra clung to Raul's leg so hard he could barely move.
"Shall I play with you, or should I let you watch while I enjoy your friend?" the thing taunted. It lifted the head of a woman in its hand — her hair hanging down, blood still seeping — and held it up like a trophy.
Eric ground his teeth. His head was about to spin, but instinct and fear kept his body moving. He raised his rifle, aimed for the helmet, and tried to pull the trigger — but in an instant the figure was gone from his sight.
"Aah—!"
A thunder of metal on metal slammed into him. Eric felt as if a truck had struck his chest; his body flew back and smashed into the wall. The laser rifle flew from his hand and clattered to the floor. He coughed, blood in his mouth, pain lancing through him — he felt certain a rib had broken.
When he looked up, all he could see were the heavy metal boots planted inches from his face. The red lenses peered down at him like a predator inspecting prey caught in a trap.
"Weak… but pretty… and from the sound of you, you'll scream properly," it sneered, bending slightly as if enjoying the sight.
Eric gritted his teeth and tried to reach for the plasma pistol holstered at his waist. But suddenly, an armored hand larger than his head pressed down on his arm with all his might.
A "CRASH!" echoed through the tunnel, and one of his arm bones instantly shattered.
"AAAAAARGHHH!!!" Eric screamed. The pain nearly blinded him, but in the dim light, he could still see the red eyes glowing with satisfaction. They were "enjoying" his torture.
"Stop it!" Castra's small voice cried out behind him. She picked up a small rock and threw it at the armor with childish courage, which did nothing but draw the iron demon's attention.
"You dare throw rocks at me, little girl? I like brave children like that... they're delicious." It laughed again. Eric gritted his teeth and tried to stand up with his broken arm. He slowly grabbed the plasma pistol with his left hand, though his hand was shaking and his vision was blurry from the blood flowing into his eyes. He aimed it at its chest at close range.
"Just... stop...!"
The muzzle glowed brightly. Plasma shot out with a screeching sound. Whoosh! The target was hit squarely in the chest armor. Blue light exploded, spreading out into fiery streams of energy that melted some of the metal.
But… it seemed his bullets were either too weak or too weak, causing little to no damage.
His pistol malfunctioned, its damage far less than normal.
"Huh…" It stood there, the burns only slightly discoloring its armor before it tilted its head to look at him like a predator enjoying prolonging the kill.
"Good… at least you've hurt me a little. Then I'll reward you… I won't kill you right away. I'll start having fun with you," it said, chuckling. In that instant, Eric knew he… couldn't fight. He didn't have the proper weapons or the power. He didn't have the energy, not even the speed to escape. What was before him wasn't a "human," but a large demon clad in bizarrely decorated armor. He could only pray silently for someone, or something… to stop it before it was too late.
Suddenly, he saw Raoul trying to run away. Now that he'd abandoned him?! But he was struck squarely by one of its mutated tentacles. A loud crash! A loud crash followed by the sound of metal hitting the wall. Raoul's body slammed into the wall with such force that the sound of broken bones echoed through the narrow alley. The contents of his bag flew out: a night vision scope, a silver coin, and a strange-looking pistol with no magazine, a massive barrel bearing the Church's emblem. It fell to the ground with a "click!" Before everything went quiet, only Erik's heavy breathing could be heard.
Erik tucked his pistol away and tried to raise his lassgun to aim. But before he could touch the trigger, the Night Lord's massive steel-armored boots stepped on the gun, turning it into deformed, unusable scrap metal.
"Poor thing... a thin human holding such a toy and expecting to hurt me?" A low voice emanated from his skull. Erik tried to get up, but before he could move, a Night Lord hand grabbed him tightly by the neck. Erik's body lifted off the ground, nearly half a meter away. The sound of metal screeching against metal was heard. "Crack!" As his wrist armor tightened, he squeezed harder.
"Squirm! Show that desperate expression again... more," it said, leaning its skull-like face closer. Its red-lensed eyes shone as if they could see every ounce of fear in its prey's heart. Eric raised both hands and tried to push its arms away with all his might. He struggled, kicked, and scratched, but the Night Lord's arms were as rigid as giant, unmoving iron rods. His voice began to rumble.
(Warning: This scene might be slightly unusual: a normal Night Lord in this situation might just be looking for a slave or armor accessory. But this was a Night Lord whose body had become mutated and worshipped the god Slaanesh, and thus might act slightly lewdly and abnormally, or even carelessly and irrationally.)
"Don't... don't do this..." A hoarse voice escaped his lips. His eyes blurred, tears streaming from his breath. He saw its other hand reach for his chest, about to rip off his shirt.
"I'll see... what's inside this toy," the Night Lord said with a low, perverse laugh. With his other hand, he placed the head he was holding on the hook, and used that hand to grab onto Eric's thick brown shirt.
Quack! With just a little force, Eric's thick shirt was easily torn off. Eric began to realize what was about to happen. He struggled even harder. He knew he might be getting raped. He didn't want to go through this. Today was supposed to be a good holiday! He laughed as he pulled off all of his shirt and scanned Eric's upper body, which was barely covered except for the cloth wrapped around his chest. Eric, who was barely breathing, blushed with fear and embarrassment.
"What a blessing! I wasted my time down here. Jackpot! I have a new sex slave. Or an offering to the god Slaanesh," he said lustfully, releasing his grip to give Eric some air.
"Cough, you son of a bitch, don't!" Eric, who had been breathing, coughed and desperately pleaded. The creature simply tilted its head and mocked him, its other hand gripping his chest. Eric, now filled with shame, didn't know what to do anymore. He used his free, uninjured left arm and left hand to uselessly pound the creature's helmet.
"555 What? I can't hear you, and it hurts so much~" it said as it ran a large, slimy, pinkish-red tentacle growing from under its arm down Eric's body. Eric gritted his teeth at the disgusting contact. The soft, warm, sticky, slimy tentacle made him want to vomit. It began to squeeze the hand holding Eric's neck harder, making only a gurgling sound. It chuckled softly before forcing the tentacle along the waistband of Eric's thick trousers, where it slipped into his pants.
"Ouch... Uh-huh!!! No, don't do that!!!" Eric tried to plead, both embarrassed and afraid, as he realized the tentacle was about to reach his private parts. He tried to use his still-functioning left arm to grab the tentacle, or try to pull it, or pry it out, but he couldn't resist. It was a futile action. Tears were streaming down his face unconsciously. He didn't want to be in a woman's body, and he didn't want to be raped by some unknown being. It felt like he was being trampled, and something about him was gone. But before the tentacle touched him, he felt like he was being trampled, and something about him was gone. But before the tentacle touched him, he didn't notice that Castra had gathered her courage to slowly reach out and grab Raoul's dropped pistol. She aimed it at the Night Lord, clinging onto him, trying not to hit him. She didn't hold it in for long before pulling the trigger.
A long, orange beam of light blazed through the Night Lord's chest from the side. The giant's body twitched like it was being hammered. A screeching sound of burning metal was heard, followed by the smell of melted metal. He turned slowly, his red lenses flickering slightly, and his body slowly slumped. Then, with a loud crash, he fell to the ground.
Eric fell to the ground as well, coughing up a mouthful of blood. He gasped for air, gasping for air, greedily breathing. He felt the cold, somewhat foul-smelling air rush back into his lungs. The tentacles that had gripped his body and the tentacles in his pants writhed. Eric quickly pulled them out of his pants. He looked around, seeing the Night Lord's body, holes in his side, and the edges of his armor glowing with heat.
Eric sighed in relief. His private area was barely safe from the tentacles, but his waist and chest were no longer safe.
Behind him stood Castra, her small hands shaking so hard he could barely hold the gun. Smoke billowed from the strange-looking pistol (Eric didn't recognize the Inferno pistol) she raised to fire. It bore the symbol of the Church. Her eyes were wide, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she stood there motionless.
(Writer: Yes, Raul had an Inferno pistol but refused to use it. It was definitely illegally obtained.)
Silence...
The only sound was the sobs of the girl still holding the gun. Eric tried to crawl toward her. He reached out a trembling hand and gently held hers. He likely had broken ribs, internal bruising, a broken right arm, and a severely sore neck. Eric hoped he hadn't suffered any neck or spinal injuries.
"You... you did so well, Castra. You're so good... so good," he said hoarsely. His sore throat prevented him from speaking loudly.
"It... it won't wake up, will it..." She shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. Eric stared at the large, armored figure that hadn't moved.
He didn't know what it was, didn't know if it was dead, so he took the pistol from her hand and shot it several more times, until it was now a Swiss cheese.
"No... It's dead. We have to get out of here before our friends come..." he said, trying to force himself to stand.
Behind him was the shadows of the alley, and the smell of burnt flesh and metal emanating from the Night Lord's body slowly cooling. When he saw Raoul's body, he forgot what he'd said and felt a surge of anger.
Eric limped forward and lunged at the injured Raoul, who was struggling to get up. The impact knocked Raoul back to the ground, having barely fallen back against the wall.
"You want to run?!" Eric shouted, his eyes wide with fear, anger, and pain all at once. He stomped on Raoul's chest, choking him. "Gulp!" Raoul tried to speak, but his voice was louder than any response. He used his unbroken left hand to grab Raoul by the collar of his shirt.
"You have everything you need and you're acting like Doraemon. You have a gun that can shoot it, but you didn't shoot it and ran! Did you see what happened to me!? Did you see how it grabbed me!? I almost got raped by that mustache!!!!" Eric said. His voice trailed off, interrupted by a gasp. He pointed at Castra, who was standing beside him, sobbing in terror and horror at the events that had just happened and his sudden escalation.
Eric gasped, his body still shaking from both fear and adrenaline. He used his broken right arm to cover his chest, which had been bruised and bruised by a kick or something when the Night Lord or whatever had attacked him at blinding speed. His other hand was still clutching Raoul's collar. Raoul looked at him with a pained expression.
"If you had raised that gun in the first place... if you had dared to shoot, he wouldn't have even touched me!!" Eric's voice began to tremble. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, feeling cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck. Being treated like this made him feel so awful and humiliated he didn't know what to say.
The images in his head reverberated like a nightmare he couldn't wake from.
The iron hand choking him, suffocating him. The tentacles crawled along his body until they reached the waistband of his pants and slipped inside. Its low laugh and lustful tone made him feel like a sex slave and its plaything.
Eric felt terrified. He felt terrible as it strangled him and ripped his shirt off. It left him naked and indescribably humiliated. The mutated tentacles made him swell with disgust, almost making him want to vomit. He almost cried as they slithered into his pants. Eric gritted his teeth until blood seeped from his lips.
"You let me... become prey... because you were afraid... you coward." Eric's voice was cold and filled with contempt, causing Raoul to freeze. Eric slammed the other man against the wall again. Raoul nearly collapsed to the ground. But before he could say anything else, a small sob came from behind him.
"I... I didn't think—" Raul tried to defend himself.
Thud! Eric's foot slammed into Raul's stomach.
"Don't say you didn't think about it... You were trying to escape, weren't you!? You didn't even hesitate to raise your own gun to shoot. You thought I was being lifted off the ground with one hand and strangled, and I didn't see it?" Eric said, touching his neck, which was still sore and red from the squeezing.
Castra's sobs came faintly from behind him. "Sister Erica... Stop... He... He can't take it anymore..."
Castra's voice trembled, but managed to regain Eric's senses. He paused, gasping for air, releasing his hand from Raoul's collar before taking a step back, leaving the man lying motionless on the ground, gasping for air. Eric closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to control his emotions. Then he caught sight of Raoul's long black coat.
Without saying anything, Eric grabbed the coat from Raoul, not gently, and slipped it on. When he took it from Raoul, he noticed that he had also planned to wear some sort of protective armor. That only made him even more resentful, this guy had everything from armor-piercing weapons, night vision goggles, and other good stuff, yet he chose not to give it to him or help him unless something happened first. Why should he stop himself from killing Raul? Oh yeah, because he was still useful and needed to guide him. His clothes were torn in shreds from when the Night Lord had ripped them off, and his neck and chest still hurt. He pulled his cloak tightly around himself, then turned around and spoke in a low voice.
"Don't think I've forgiven you... but I still need you right now. If you want to get out of here alive... you have to get me and this kid out of here." Raoul was still panting, but nodded slightly, his expression a mixture of fear and remorse. He knew that in this situation, no matter how much they fought, they would have to work together. Castra approached, gently tugging on Erik's robe. Her body was still terrified by what had happened and Erik's tone.
"Sister... can we... leave?" Erik looked down at her, his eyes, which had been filled with anger, softening. He smiled and reached out to place a hand gently on her head.
"We will... I promise," he said calmly but resolutely, then turned to look at the Night Lord, or what Raoul called a Chaos Space Marine, lying motionless in the darkness. Erik pursed his lips before speaking to Raoul without looking back.
"Get us out of here before something like that comes back again," Erik said coldly. Raoul pulled himself up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. Before he could even grab his night vision goggles and put them on in the darkness of the Lower Hive, Eric turned back to the corpse of the Chaos Space Marine lying there, transformed into Swiss cheese. His anger returned.
Eric approached the corpse and kicked it several times in the head, even stomping it with his foot. It scared him, humiliated him, and trampled on his pride. After stomping on it to his heart's content, Eric used his left hand and left arm to search for what was inside. He found a large plasma pistol on its belt, containing some energy cells, possibly from a plasma pistol. Eric didn't hesitate to take it for himself, trying to ignore Magda's teachings about the machine spirit. For him, anything that could reload, fire, and function as a gun, he didn't care as long as it worked.
"Nice balance," Eric said as he tried holding the plasma gun with one hand. Although it was too big, bulky, and rather heavy, he could still use it. He was confident that this gun was definitely more powerful than his old plasma gun, and it should be able to kill anything.
"Erica...we should be going now." "I don't know if there are any of them, and they might come at any moment," Raoul said quietly, filled with fear and anxiety.
"Shut up, Raoul!!!" Eric shouted. Afterward, he found a rag nearby and performed basic first aid. He bandaged his arm with a triangular bandage, just like he'd been trained to do. Eric wasn't sure if he was doing it right, but he felt more comfortable doing it this way. This left him severely underprepared for combat. Even without it, the situation would be the same.
Eric, with his broken right arm, broken ribs, and bruises, along with Raoul, who also had broken ribs and bruises, and a terrified Castra, continued their journey.
Eric had no idea how much worse things would get for him. From what he knew, the area he'd be walking through was a factory in Sector E.
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Writer: 555 This isn't the last bad thing Eric would encounter. It's just the beginning. Luckily, this Night Lord was a bit too playful and careless.