Editing Hua Yuan Exterminator Writefaggotry (section)

==Made in the Image of the First== 
Journal of Recruit Pvt. Trang, 132rd Exterminators (confiscated and destroyed)

Foreign hives are a special hell, but they are our hell. We like killing wannabe gangers in our backyards, that's easy, no need to try. Just bust down the door and let loose, if some escape, we cut them off a corridor down and finish the job. Try ambushing a xenos hive mind in unfamiliar terrain. Damn near impossible. Just avoiding ambushes is hard enough, getting shots off is almost a luxury before you're swarmed with bugs. So we need an edge, “Guant Stalkers”. The medics are making some seriously sketchy drug with stuff they brought from home and fucking 'Nid bits. They gave it to some quiet veterans in each squad who seemed familiar with it, those poor bastards with that dead stare in their eyes. Those guys left for a bit, and came back to their squads in a blood haze.

When Corporal Zhang returned the squad, the Red Pole sergeant put him in point. Within seconds, he broke into a sprint we didn't think was possible, with a bizarre, wordless determination. Everyone was bewildered, but he sprinted ahead, just calling out locations of things he shouldn't know. “Six little gun bugs and a Psyker bug below us, approaching.” We snapped back, secured breaching charges to the ground and waited. Zhang called, “40 meters... 25... 10... now.”

As our Red Pole blew the charges we threw in Blinkers. Zhang hit the ground the same time they did, his silence broken by deranged screams, armed with a fucking monoknife in one hand and a lascarbine in the other. We staggered for just a moment, switched on our filters and jumped after Zhang, the dust of the Blinkers filling the hallway. We poured las fire in the direction of the 'thrope, while Zhang was chopping and screaming in a crowd of termagants in the periphery. At least, that's what anyone could put together in the middle of a fire-fight full of lights and color. The 'gant bits flying everywhere was our major clue. After it taking a more shots than from a lasgun than anything should, the 'thrope quickly regained its bearings and threw witch fyre at us. Two good squadmates went down, blood splattered on the inside of their visor and leaking from their ear-slits, injuring most of the rest of us. We reopened fire as soon as the Emperor would let us, finally boiling that big bastard inside out with lasfire. We turned around to support Zhang, but found him covered from head to toe in blood 'n guts, grappling two on a pile of dead bugs. We wasted them while they were still disoriented by our entry enough to be pinned down. As the dust settled we saw Zhang, minus several of his fingers and pint of blood, holding a ripped off xeno's arm, and slamming it into his foe's head, with his knife was stuck in the xeno's gut.

Sarge shouted to him, “anymore bugs nearby?”, despite only being a few feet away. Zhang snapped his gaze up from the xeno corpse pile, making the greener of us jump a little, and looking back with glazed over eyes. He murmured, to no one in particular, “nothing left on this level. The bugs are pulling back to the under hive. We go there next.” Our medic hastily hit him with a sedative, and brought him back to our checkpoint fire base on a stretcher.

As we made our way to firebase, our Red Pole looked at me and joked, “A rookie survived, looks like our Leftenant will have some explaining to do,” the rest of the men started to laugh, until we remembered Zhang.

Sure enough, as soon as the rest of the platoon was back from 'Nid hunting, everyone with a rank less fancy than one a commanding officer might have was called to a “special training session” with the Platoon Red Pole and our Leftenant.

We were lead into a real barebones room,  a re-purposed conference hall from the hive hotel we were using as a firebase. As soon as the last of us trickled in, the Platoon Red Pole locked the door behind us. The Leftenant stood in the front, surrounded by tired and sweaty guardsmen on all sides. “At ease, men. Congratulation on your promotions gentleman, you ten are now lance corporals and receive rights and traditions as Exterminators. Taking a few 'Nid skulls is no longer a punishable offense for you boys.” We shivered with a nervous pride. Most of us joined up from whatever shit-hole corner of The Garden we came from just to hear those words. “Any fool can blast a ganger coughing smoke” we all heard a thousand times back in basics, "hell, they do that themselves. The only guardmens worth a damn are the ones who can take home more of themselves than 'nid trophies they nab." We poor bastards, knowing more would die during this campaign than make it home, were swelling with an invincible pride. Hell, some of the boys even shed a tear.

“But,” continued the Leftenant, “Those rights come with hefty responsibilities, you will now be privy to the secrets of the Exterminators, and how it is some of the regiment manage to survive the fight with Tyranids. By being here you agree to keep these shameful secrets.” We would've agreed to arm wrestle with Orkz, we were so drunk off pride. “It's no secret to those inducted that the use of stimm synthesized from termagant nervous tissues circles around the garrison. The mere knowledge of it's existence is near enough to get everyone in the regiment executed for high heresy. The common practice is to mix diluted powdered 'guant brain with another compound found our home hive made from some mushrooms you men might be acquainted with. As it would have, this fungi has patterns that closely resemble that of a Tyranid strand of DNA. If ingested the user can see 'Nids through walls but all color drains his vision and he develops an overwhelming desire to kill. It takes a disciplined user to communicate to his team while under its effects, and the side effects are immense and debilitating, more than likely crippling for life. When this substance is offered to you by a fellow guardsmen, weigh the risks long and hard before you accept his offer.”

“You won't be operating in combat unless you have the experience necessary to keep your composure. The risk for friendly fire and jeopardized missions is far too high to allow fresh recruits on the battlefield under their influence. Any of you here today found ingesting this substance will be imprisoned, stripped of your rank, and possibly court marshaled. That is the dangers of partaking in this.”

He elaborated, “Introducing this substance into your system should only be done when you are as good as dead regardless.”

A grim silence fell over the room. I felt bold, still riding the high of the promotion, and asked, “Excuse me sir, but if this is so dangerous and heretical, why allow this to continue, sir?”

“Well,” said the Leftenant with the same somber tonality, “The drug is widely spread throughout the entire guard forces of Hua Yuan with direct contact with Tyranid forces. It is easy to synthesize, being done so on very insular levels. This makes it very hard to regulate and monitor. You had a firsthand account of what the substances capabilities are today, didn't you corporal. Despite the dangers, it can get some results that simply can not be ignored. Your Sargeant elaborate on the history of this practice.”

Our eyes turned to the Platoon Red Pole, a very large imposing man for a hive fighting unit. He was a something of a legend to us, he had been a member of the First before being transferred to us. He rarely spoke but carried a powerfist and wore what appeared to be carnifex fore claw carapace on his forearms and shins. To say he was pants-shitting intimidating was an understatement. He was sent to us after turning down a slot in the stormtroopers.

The Red Pole began in monotone as if it were prepared speech, “Near one hundred years ago, before the First were the famed regiment they are to today, they were conducting pre-operation preparations on of their introductory missions, a raid on a violent new gang in the lower hive. An offworld black-marketeer approached the newly constructed barracks a few days before the mission was set to commence. Some say it was Ollianus Pius himself come to aid his new brothers in the Guard, other say it was a missionary prophet blessed with a vision of the future, and the less religious minded say it was an Inquisitor who simply wanted to use us for an experiment. Nevertheless that man gave the founders’ of the First the first doses of 'Nid Dust. The results of ingesting it were horrific, but effective. It was a natural progression that popular stimms would be mixed with it.”

"This is more than likely all bullshit", he said flatly. "In reality, it is a used as a coping mechanism for the more psychologically damaged exterminators. It heightens what dulled senses are left after the many engagements an exterminator must go on. I have seen this make men perform miracles during engagements, slowly destroying what may be left of them in and out of combat. " being the sensitive man he is, he finished his warning with, "if any of you make this known to the inquisitorial forces, you will be executed as the heretic you are."

He returned to his tale, “The next day several of the First inhaled it before assaulting the Ganger headquarters despite the leftenant's very thorough warning. Thanks to this, we were able to become aware that the compound was laced with late generation genesteeler breed children. Had we entered with intent to save the kids we would have been massacred, had the first 'Guant Stalkers not seen through their deception proceeded to rip through them in a rage. The Exterminators would have been destroyed to man on their first mission. Instead, they were destroyed in a much slower, more productive process of injections.

After that we agreed to keep use using the Dust and keep it secret on pain of death. Anyone who reveals this is killed, along with their entire bloodline.”