Chapter 87: Robbery
Jagatai Khan wheeled his motorcycle around on the battlefield, his gaze lingering on Francis for just a moment. When he spoke, there was something wistful in his voice, a primarch remembering ghosts.
"What a familiar feeling. The last time I witnessed something like this..." He paused. "It was with Horus and Mortarion. Time passes like wind through the steppes."
He made a graceful turn and rode away, leaving silence in his wake.
Guilliman, Leman Russ, and Perturabo exchanged glances. Bewilderment hung between them.
"What's wrong with him?" Guilliman asked.
"Missing Horus, probably," Leman Russ offered.
"As long as he's not betraying us, it doesn't matter," Perturabo said flatly.
The three stood in brief, awkward silence. There wasn't much else to say.
Then, a pitch-black dagger materialized among the daemon lines, moving with predatory silence toward Sage Hiyye Roma. The blade lunged. Her systems were in cooldown; she had no time to dodge. The strike was seconds away from connecting when...
Splat.
A massive tentacle appeared between them. The dagger drove straight through it, and Francis severed the limb decisively, cutting off any chance of infection spreading. Toxins poured from the wound, corroding everything impaled within.
After dealing with the threat, Francis's massive eye turned toward her. "Are you alright?"
"I am functional. Thank you, Fabricator-General," Sage Hierophant Hiei Roma replied. Her vocalizer, new, softer than before, carried something almost like warmth.
"That's good."
The other primarchs watched in silence. None of them could quite understand why the fully cybernetic Fabricator-General gazed at Francis's eye-monster form with such obvious affection.
The Emperor, seated upon His Throne, witnessed everything. He crushed the psychic material in His hand.
That familiar, terrible voice echoed through Francis's mind: "Come here. Bring what's on you."
Francis grimaced. Of course, He'd seen it. With no choice remaining, he piloted Soul Drinker Number One toward the Throne Room.
Thump.
The hatch opened, and Francis crawled out completely covered in sticky biomatter.
The Custodes stared at the bizarre xenos abomination before them, genuinely wanting to abandon protocol and destroy it.
"Francis, if you desire a Titan, the Titan Orders can provide one," the Emperor said calmly.
Francis could have sworn the golden radiance around the Emperor flickered, as if He were exercising tremendous restraint.
"Respected Father, rest assured, this armor is absolutely safe. And to preserve the Imperium's dignity, I deliberately incorporated a design element distinct from xenos technology." Francis gestured upward. "Please observe."
A skull-shaped device rose above Soul Drinker Number One.
"I specifically modified the processing core of this bio-armor into the shape of a human skull."
The Emperor's hand fell upon Francis's shoulder. "In short, do not mass-produce it."
This scene was witnessed by Guilliman, Sanguinius, and Lion El'Jonson as they entered. All three showed unmistakable envy. After Horus, Francis had once again become Father's favored son.
"Very well, then I won't mass-produce it," Francis said, waving his hand. He understood the Imperium was too conservative for such things. Then he noticed an Eldar warship grounded nearby.
The Emperor seemed eager, subtly urging him to depart.
"Then I'll gather the Soul Drinkers and leave now."
Hearing this, the Emperor finally received the answer He desired. Just then, Guilliman quietly approached.
"Francis, do you have anything that can resist psychic powers?" He paused, then added carefully, "I'm asking for a friend. Someone a bit vulnerable to psychic attacks."
Francis studied him for a moment, then answered, "Not currently. But I'm heading to the Webway soon, maybe I'll bring you some Eldar local specialties when I return."
"Good." Guilliman nodded, then quickly added, "I'll thank you on behalf of my friend."
Francis patted his shoulder. He said nothing but understood perfectly.
The Webway entrance erupted with intense golden lightning, tearing across the void in a thunderous roar. A massive Warp rift opened, red and black swirling vortices churning within, emanating raw Chaos energy.
Whoosh.
Francis and the Soul Drinkers piloted the Dark Eldar warship into the Webway.
In an instant, the Webway sealed behind them, and the void fell still as if nothing had occurred at all.
"Father, is it not dangerous for Francis to enter the Webway alone?" Sanguinius frowned slightly. This was unmapped territory, none of them had experience navigating it, and certainly not Francis.
"No need for concern. He will be perfectly safe in the Webway," the Emperor replied with quiet confidence.
Hearing this, they finally relaxed.
"I summoned you here to discuss the Webway itself. For its successful development, you must..."
Inside the Webway
Twisted space flowed with pale purple light, like the afterglow of distant stars. Francis's warship hung silently at the edge of a void rift.
The hull was damaged, the armor plating was broken, and the bridge lights flickered dimly. Hull fragments drifted nearby, torn apart by Webway violence. The communication device transmitted intermittent distress signals deliberately, attracting predators drawn to easy prey.
An Eldar fleet slipped from the depths.
The predators were immediately interested. A seemingly defenseless warship, damaged and vulnerable, they surrounded it quickly, preparing for what looked like effortless plunder.
"What luck! We just arrived and found free spoils," one Dark Eldar said excitedly. This was his first raid. It seemed so easy, nothing like what the veterans had warned about.
"Who says it isn't? This is too simple! Hehehe—"
Several Dark Eldar circled the vessel, but found no defenders. After confirming safety, they signaled the main force: "No danger here! It's clear!"
Hearing this, they dragged Francis's warship into their cargo hold. Once back in Commorragh, they could enjoy the spoils for weeks.
In the concealed compartment, Sarpedon's voice was cautious: "Primarch, what do we do next?"
"What do we do?" Francis, disguised as a Dark Eldar, made a slicing gesture across his neck. "Rob them, of course. Why else are we hiding here? The sounds above are getting more frequent. Now's the time to strike."
Following his command, the Soul Drinkers surged forward.
Bang!
The hidden door kicked open. A dozen Dark Eldar in the cargo hold, engaged in intensely depraved activities, were startled at the sudden intrusion.
"What do you want, you hiding pricks?"
Seeing that the intruders were also Eldar, they didn't take it seriously. Worst case, they'd simply lose their profit.
"This is a robbery. What else?" Serpedon responded.
Before they could process this, a bolter round pierced the first one's skull.
"Report, Primarch, enemies in cargo hold have been eliminated, within three seconds," a Soul Drinker reported.
"Excellent!! Collect these corpses for the next phase," Francis ordered, donning his helmet. He charged out with his warriors.
They immediately encountered another group. Alarm flashed across Eldar's face.
"Who are you people?"
To avoid raising alarms, Francis contorted his body and spoke coquettishly, "We're stowaway entertainers. We know many interesting tricks. Would you like to try them?"
The gathered Eldar's eyes lit up. Various implements appeared in their hands. They looked at Francis with predatory hunger as he began removing his clothing, then...
Hehehe.
"Stowaways are naughty... very naughty. How about we go inside and explore further?"
Just as their anticipation peaked, hundreds of eyes materialized beneath Francis's garments.
BOOM!
A massive beam of Chaos energy severed the upper halves of every Eldar before him. Even with only their lower bodies remaining, they stood rigidly in place.
The Soul Drinkers cleared the battlefield, or rather, cleaned it up.
Bang!
In one room, several Eldar experiencing vivid hallucinations actively impaled themselves on weapons, mistaking them for something else entirely.
Bang!
Another kick. A dozen Eldar, naked and bound to pillars, constantly shouting.
"Hit me! Hit me quickly! Use your most powerful weapon on me—"
"Please, please..."
The Soul Drinkers had never encountered such requests. They raised their multi-meltas and blasted until nothing remained.
Others crawled on the ground like animals. When the Soul Drinkers entered, they immediately began licking their boots. Sanity was a luxury few aboard possessed. Francis and his team seized control of the warship without significant resistance.
Finally, they reached the command bridge and subdued several relatively coherent Eldar.
"Who do you serve? We are raiders under Lord Vect. Show some respect," Captain Thory Vit said, forcing composure.
"How about we call it even? You concede defeat."
"We serve Chaos," Francis said, his helmet concealing his face. "The great Master of Change has sent me to bring you nightmares. Take us to your master. This is the will of the gods."
"Do you understand?"
[End of Chapters]