A Monster in Hell: A 40K Story

Chapter-3

"You are an orphan?" Olga asked me, through a puff of smoke. 

"Yes. I am." 

"That is unfortunate. I was an orphan too..." she trailed off, evidently remembering something. "Unfortunately, we will have to continue this discussion at a later date. I forgot to make a few vox calls..." she hurried off.

I watched her go. At least she is falling into my clutches.

It had been two months of training. I was slowly becoming completely resistant to all psychological traps laid out for me, and was almost a perfect marksman. I was good with a Chainsword, but somewhat average with knives and stuff. My physical fitness was excellent. My stringy body, while packing a lot of strength on the inside, was also becoming slowly more muscular on the outside. 

I was also making progress with the people around here. 

Brutus and I were becoming fast friends. Brutus was often a sparring partner, and we sometimes went together to have a drink at the small bar, one of the few pleasures we could enjoy. He hated reading, so I was the one telling him the news coming in: an Ork attack here, a Tyranid invasion there, a T'au conversion attempt there, a Drukhari raid here, a Daemonic summoning there, a Necron uprising there, a High Lord going mad here, a Commander/Governor/Popular Leader rising in revolt here, an important person becoming a Heretic here...

The Thirteenth Black Crusade was soon going to happen, and it was clearly reflected. Slowly, the Warmaster of Chaos was setting his pieces on the board to finally destroy Cadia... which was not happening, if I could help it. 

Iden worshipped me like a hero: to him, the very ground I walked on deserved to be written in his own version of the Lectitio Divinatus. I let him... because I was aware that stopping him would likely cause another Monarchia.

Who I definitely did not get along with was Desmond. Desmond was a weak bully. I may be a psychopath according to others, but I usually seek out strong creatures who did something wrong (as I told you, they deserved it). Desmond, however, sought out the weak and the vulnerable. He had stopped pestering Claudia after being beaten up... but something told me she was in danger from him. Worse, he was rich: I did not like rich spoilt people. They were, to me, an alien kind, as worthy of a purge as a T'au, Ork or Tyranid. 

What really put me on edge though, was Roman Un. Roman was a tall, well-built guy, extremely muscular. He had hawk-like eyes that gave you that unsettling feeling. I sensed a threat. I sensed... competition. I sensed... lust. And unlike Desmond, Roman was smart. Desmond seemed to command Roman, but in truth Roman wielded the real power in the group of bullies that had formed. I knew that. Roman was also super-interested in me... in a platonic competitive way, idiots. He was the first one to have created the group of bullies and perverts that plagued the training center nowadays: Timothy, Vladimir, and June were the other three. Roman was the real threat in the group.

A week or two before this, two girls and a guy ended up dead. They had been approached by Roman before, but the guy, Joe, had the two girls wrapped around his finger. There was no direct indication of any interest from Roman's side. They were not even that good-looking by my standards, and Roman seemed to be picky. They were found in the morning on the floor with their guts pulled through their ass and dried cum around their cunts. Joe had been thrown through a balcony and had definitely been beaten to death on the ground.

I suspected that the grumpy guard on the ground floor, Markel, had something to do with it. There was no way Roman could have done this without an inside ally. Olga had been frustrated that Roman could not be prosecuted without evidence that pointed directly to him.