Time: M30.001
Location: Uncharted Xenos Cluster, Segmentum Obscurus
In the cold expanse of the void, where stars whispered the secrets of dying gods and comets trailed forgotten prayers, a figure danced across the void.
Hisoka.
The Chaos's Champion. Chosen of Slaanesh and Khorne.
He floated inside a pleasure-barge torn from a Dark Eldar raiding vessel, reworked with his own delightful flair. Chains of gold, mirrors forged from screaming souls, and a dozen captives hung by nerve-thread, suspended in states between life and death — always watching. Always screaming. Their torment was the music of his solitude.
But Hisoka was bored.
Even chaos could be monotonous when no challenge presented itself. Worlds burned, hearts broken, generals driven mad by the tilt of his head. All too easy.
Until something changed.
A signal. Unnatural. Alien. Pure.
Hisoka turned from his crystalline window. The strange signal reached his mind like a siren's kiss — no emotion, no song, just cold, terrifying purpose.
He licked his lips. "Now that's new."
---
The Tyranid Scout Ship
It was a seed of hunger drifting through stars, a glistening biomechanical sphere the size of a Thunderhawk, cloaked in silence. It had not been named by mortals, for its kind did not believe in names. It pulsed with thought, primitive and collective, a fragment of the Hive.
This was no mere ship.
This was an eye. A probe sent forth eons before the Great Devourer would truly arrive.
Inside, the creature that served as its pilot was less an individual and more a node — four arms, glistening chitin, eyes like twin black pits. It sensed prey in the warp. Not food of the flesh. Something... elusive. Different.
Hisoka.
---
Third-Person View: Hisoka's Approach
The champion approached in a single-manned shuttle, hull painted with swirls of flesh-tone paint and blood. He sang to himself as he flew, ignoring the servitor warning him of extreme biological risk.
"I wonder," he murmured, gazing through his screen at the strange, squirming form of the Tyranid vessel. "Can you feel pain?"
He smiled. "Can you enjoy it?"
---
Boarding the Beast
Hisoka didn't breach like a warrior. He entered like a lover.
Warp-blades shimmered in his hands as he carved through the Tyranid outer hull, stepping into the living corridor with elegance. The walls pulsed, slick with mucous and heat.
The ship reacted immediately. Spines jutted from walls, neurotoxin gas flooded the chamber.
Hisoka laughed. "Foreplay. I like that."
With an agile flip, he leapt between lunging tendrils and living defense mechanisms. The ship adapted fast — bone-scythes erupted from the floor. He ducked, twisted, pirouetted.
"Faster!" he yelled. "More!"
His blades, blessed by Slaanesh, cut through chitin like paper. Khorne's fury gave each strike weight beyond mortal strength.
Then, at the heart of the ship, the scout appeared.
Six feet tall, hunched, eyes staring without emotion.
The room shuddered. Psychic static filled the air.
Hisoka froze.
He had expected rage. Fear. But what stared at him held no desire, no hate, no ambition. Only... purpose.
"Oh. You're no fun at all."
---
The Battle
The Tyranid moved first — four arms striking in perfect synchronicity, like a machine of murder. One blade caught Hisoka's ribs. Another sliced through his cheek.
He grinned through the blood.
"Beautiful!"
They danced.
The chamber shook from their clash. Warp-tainted swords met chitinous talons. Sparks flew. Purple ichor painted the walls.
But Hisoka wasn't fighting to kill.
He was learning.
Each strike showed him the Tyranid's pattern. Its rhythm. Its flaw.
He whispered in its ear between dodges.
"You feel no pleasure, do you? No pain. No joy."
He slid under its next blow, slashed deep across its chest.
"But you still think, don't you? Somewhere in that hive, someone is watching."
He placed his hand against its head.
Whispers of Slaanesh passed into it.
And for the first time in its existence, the Tyranid hesitated.
Hisoka leaned close.
"I'm going to show you how to want."
---
The Capture
The creature fell, not dead, but stunned. Hisoka sheathed his blades, stepping back.
Daemonic chains wrapped around the beast — not forged of steel, but of emotion. Each link sang with hunger, ecstasy, agony. The creature twitched, resisting.
But it didn't scream.
Not yet.
He returned to his ship, dragging the Tyranid behind him. Every servo-skull and prisoner watched in horror and awe as he entered the lower lab. There, beneath shifting mirrors, he began his work.
---
Hisoka's Laboratory – Days Later
He named it Niyth. A joke, an insult, a promise.
It was bound in soulsteel and psychic dampeners, monitored by Slaaneshi daemons who whispered sensations into its neural cortex: delight, grief, rapture, longing.
And the more it felt... the more the Hive Mind strained to cut it off.
But Hisoka was faster.
He carved runes into its bones. Slipped Warp essence into its blood.
Not to break it. Not to enslave it.
To teach it.
---
Interlude: Slaanesh Watches
From her silken throne of screams, the Dark Prince leaned forward.
Never had a New specimen like TYRANID before that mind one under thing so called the Hive's will and soul is one with the hive thing.
Never Heard so called the song of the Devourer, but because this he/she/it can see this specimen from outer galaxy.
Hisoka was succeeding found something new.
And Khorne, though silent, approved of the blood spilled. The strength proved.
God of blood can see if TYRANID come now there Will be a New battle.
---
Later: Hisoka's Reflection
He sat cross-legged before the Tyranid, watching it twitch.
"You don't understand yet," he said. "But you will."
He drew a card from his deck — a Joker, splashed with Warp-fire.
"This is my friend," he whispered. "He taught me that Chaos is not about destruction."
The Tyranid stared, unmoving.
"It's about freedom. Freedom to make others suffer, sure. But also to make them laugh, cry, feel alive."
He leaned close.
"One day, you'll feel. And when you do... I wonder which god you'll pray to."
---
Whisper in the Warp
In the darkness between stars, the Hive Mind stirred.
One of its eyes had gone silent.
Worse — it had begun to dream.
And speed up process immigration to new galaxy.