HS40K

The following article is a /tg/ related story or fanfic. Should you continue, expect to find tl;dr and an occasional amount of awesome.

Chapter One

"Yeah, my dad gave me "The Talk" last night," Scout Marine groaned.

Lolcron turned his soulless gaze toward Scout and stared. Angry Marine continued to glare into his brown paper lunch bag.

"Motherfucking ham sandwich for three days in a goddamn row." Angry brought his armored fist down on the tabletop, crushing his lunchbag flat. "I FUCKING HATE HAM."

Scout sighed. "Then go buy the cafeteria hot lunch, man."

"Fucking creamed corn and shitloaf surprise? FUCK THAT SHIT."

"Trade with someone, moron," intoned Lolcron.

Angry stood and frowned belligerantly around the lunchroom. As usual, the three friends had a table to themselves. Not toward the south side windows, with the popular kids, but in the corner by the outside door. The room was filled with a buzz of conversation. The Dark Eldar Wytch and Demonette were laughing, probably at someone's expense. A techpriest and a fat, sweating ork mekboy were arguing loudly over a complex cardgame.

"Heexcuse mee.."

Angry turned and growled at the skinny, snaggle-toothed girl trying to edge past him. She clutched a lunchbag in both hands and her eyes were resolutely fixed on the door.

"HOLD IT." Angry grabbed the girl's arm, the fingers of his gauntlet closing like a vise. She flinched. "What's in the fuckin bag?"

"Hwee... we captured thees waffles for kay-osss..."

Angry snatched his smashed bag from the tabled and shoved it toward her face. Meat juice dripped from the darkening paper.

"TRADE ME."

"Whaat... whatever hyoo desire..."

"Cut it out, Angry." Scout was blushing with embarrassment at his cousin's behavior. "Let her go."

Angry turned and snarled at Scout. The grinding of his teeth was almost audible.

"Come on, man, you can have my meatbread, I'm not even hungry. God-Emperor, you're being such an asshole."

Angry shoved the girl away and flopped back down into his seat. "Gimme the fuckin meatbread, asscunt."

Scout pushed the remains of his lunch across the table with a sigh, and looked up at the girl. "Sorry about that, uh..." He trailed off, realizing he had no idea who she was. She stared at him.

Blushing, she turned and hurried out the door.

For a moment, the three sat in silence. Except for Angry, who muttered an cursed as he stuffed his face.

Lolcron broke the quiet. "What talk, meatbag?"

Scout blinked at him. "Uh, what?"

"You told us Guilliman gave you "The Talk." Explain."

"Oh. Uh. Empra, you know. The purging talk."

"I do not know."

Scout blushed again, irritated at the memory. "He sat me down and gave me this long lecture about how I was growing up, and all the changes my geneseed would be causing, and how he knew it was a confusing time for a young marine. Then he launched into this bit about how I'd be feeling these urges to purge xenos and heretics, and how this was all perfectly normal, but I should never purge without proper protection and armament. God-Emperor, I've never been so embarrassed."

Angry spoke up, spitting crumbs of meatbread across the table. "Fucking old fart thinks you're a goddam little kid. We're fucking teenagers, it's not like we've never fucking purged a bitch before. Amiright, Lolcron? FUCK."

Lolcron nodded slowly. "Many a wretched biological has fallen to my gauss flayer. Their screams echoed as they begged for mercy, for kindness alien to my icy mind."

"Fuck yeah, 'cron."

The two turned to look at Scout, who was staring intently at his hands.

Angry's jaw fell open, and his eyebrows lowered. "MOTHER FUCK. You're fucking unblooded."

Scout was turning red. "Dammit, Angry, shut up."

"Fuck, it's true, you've never fucking purged anyone! Fucking fuck!"

Scout gritted his teeth.

Angry was giving him a look of combined contempt and astonishment. "Shitting dick-nipples, Scout, with the amount of play your brother Ultramarine gets, he never fuckin sent any your way? That thundering asshole purges a different xeno bitch every night of the goddam week!"

"Well, yeah," Scout muttered, "It's easy for him, he's captain of the damn Bloodbowl team."

"You should ask out Cultist-chan."

The two marines looked at Lolcron in surprise. "What the fuck are you talking about, you creepy metal fuck?" spat Angry.

His deathless eyes stared back at them, unblinking. "Cultist-chan. The girl you accosted. Ask her on a date. Then purge her."

Scout sputtered. "She's kinda cute, yeah, but what makes you think..."

Lolcron interrupted in his sepulchural monotone. "She is unpopular. She is moderatly attractive, but not sufficiently so to overcome her social disadvantages. Her family situation is tenuous and chaotic. There is a high probability that she has self-esteem issues and craves acceptance. She may be attracted to you, and you rescued her from a problematic situation."

"Fuck yeah, easy purge!" Angry yelled loudly enough that Scout glanced around at the other tables to make sure no one was looking at them. "And did you see the way she fuckin dresses, that ripped-up goth shit? No fuckin armor save on that shit, she's fuckin asking for it! I'll loan you my fuckin landraider so you can take her out. FUCKIN DO IT, FAGGOT."

"Alright, alright, Empra, I'll ask her out." Scout slumped in his seat. In the grim darkness of the far future, being a teenager sure was complicated.

Chapter Two

"Hey, Macha," said Scout, not looking up from the spreadsheet on the computer screen, "We're not gonna have enough for punch."

"Yes we will. That's why we do this planning in advance. We'll work something out... a fundraiser or something." Macha was chewing on a strand of her long red hair as she leaned over Scout's shoulder to peer dissapprovingly at the uncooperative numbers.

Scout sighed. "Macha, there's not nearly enough time before prom for a fundraiser. Why the hell did you blow the entire budget booking Doomrider and the Emperor's Children?"

She folded her arms and looked down her nose at him. "If you have a problem with the comittee decision-making process, you shouldn't be in Student Government."

Scout spun around in his chair to face her. "I'm only in it because I need the extracurricular. What's your excuse?"

"If you aren't going to take it seriously, then..."

Scout gave her a tired smile. "Oh, come on, Macha. You don't like sitting through those meetings any more than I do."

She frowned. "Nonsense. I chair every meeting, I... um."

"Heh... yeah, and after the first ten minutes you start sounding like my friend Lolcron. You're bored to tears. Aw, Empra, Vice Principle Eldrad makes you do it, doesn't he."

"Well, uh, yes, my father is of the opinion that Student Government builds character, and I agree."

Scout slumped in his chair. "Sure you do. So because of him, you wind up head of the prom planning committee, and I wind up staying after school helping you figure out how many plastic cups we can buy if we get off-brand cola."

Macha bristled. "It's not like I forced you into it, stupid. But you can't quit now, you made a committment! Don't you care about prom?"

"Honestly? Not particularly. I wasn't planning on going." He spun the chair again, and stared out the door at the people walking by in the hallway. He caught a glimpse of ripped black fabric and tattoos.

"Whaaat?" Macha was fuming now, her face going almost as red as the stripes on her cheek. "But you said..."

"Look, can we finish this tomorrow?" Scout grabbed his bag and headed for the door. "Sorry, I really gotta go."

"Scout! You're being really immature! You can't..." He didn't catch the rest of her harange as he shut the door behind him and hurried down the hall. He skidded around the corner, and saw his target, strolling along and chatting with the wierd one-horned girl with the BO problem.

"Cultist-chan! Hey! Cultist-chan!"

The two girls turned and looked up in surprise as Scout jogged up to them. He stopped, panting, and realized he hadn't thought this far ahead. "Uh... Hi," he muttered.

There were several seconds of silence. Then the horned girl grinned widely. "Ohhhhhhh, Cultist, is this the guy? He's cuuute!"

Scout froze. Cultist-chan froze. The horned girl looked confused for a moment.

Then she looked uncomfortable.

Then she belched. It was a hearty, solid belch, lasting about three seconds and echoing up and down the hallway. A foul stench washed over them, curling the edges of the posters stuck to the walls.

Cultist-chan broke into a snaggle-toothed grin and started cackling wildly. "Plaguebearer-chaaaan! Thaat one had thee power of thee daark gods!"

The demon girl watched her for a moment, then began to snort with laughter. Scout bit his lip, but couldn't stop a snicker.

Cultist-chan was still giggling. Scout thought back to his training, his indoctrination. He must have courage, lest he disgrace the name of the Adeptus Astartes. "So, um, Cultist-chan, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Cultist-chan wiped a tear from her eye. "Eef that ees your weeesh..."

Plaguebearer slapped her friend on the back and attempted a wink; difficult, because she only had one eye. "I'll see you later, girl!" She laughed, and walked away down the hall, leaving the two alone.

Scout coughed. "So... uh. What are you doing here so late?"

"Hwee await transportaayshunn."

"Um... your ride's pretty late, huh?"

"Daddy Abbadon lost hees liscense. Hee's been uneemployed seence thee last crusade, hand hee dreenks... Hwee must wait for uncle Kharn to geef us ay ryyde."

Scout stammered. "Oh, Emperor, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... wait, Coach Kharn's your uncle?"

She stared at her shoes. "Eeet ees soo. Hwee awaait thee end of practeeece."

"Oh, I gotcha. Um. My brother's on the team. You wanna walk over to the field and see them?"

She smiled at him, teeth crooked and filed. "Whatever hyoo desire."

They walked together, sneaking glances at each other, through the halls and out into the warmth of the late afternoon sunlight. Soon as they approached the field, they could hear the raucous crys and viscious crunches of Bloodbowl practice.

Scout paused, thinking of his brother. Huge, handsome, perfectly muscled, resplendent in his gleaming blue power armor. And a total asshole. The last person Scout wanted to see right then.

Cultist-Chan walked a step further, then turned to look at Scout. "Hwaaat ees wrong?"

Scout swallowed. It was now or never. For the primarch. For the honor of the Adeptus Astartes. For the Emperor Himself. If he was ever going to purge a heretic, he had to speak now. He closed his eyes, for a moment, and with a supreme effort of will ripped the words out of his throat and into existance.

"Um... You wanna go see a movie tomorrow?"

She flushed and grinned, shuffling her feet. "Hweee liiike moovieees."

"Uh. I'll pick you up at... um..."

"Eight eees my faaayvorite number."

"Right. Uh. I'll see you at eight. Um. Bye then, Cultist-chan."

"Fare whell..."

Still blushing, he walked quickly back to the school. Through the halls and out the other side was probably the quickest way to the parking lot where Angry was supposed to pick him um. He was probably already there, and getting more and more pissed at having to wait.

Lost in thought, Scout turned a corner, only to find himself staring into an abyss. A single great eye filled the hallway, surrounded by a corona of multicolored, crackling fire. The massive pupil seemed a portal to another realm, a dark and swirling void where scintillating points of light chased and multiplied and devoured each other.

"Oh. Um, hi Principle Tzeench."

The vortex seemed to stare at him, through him. Then it narrowed, peering at him. It's voice boomed down the hallway, subtly warping reality as it passed. "PROCEED."

"Um. Ok. Bye, Principle Tzeench."

Scout hurried away down the sunlit hallway, his mind filled with swirling darkness and a snaggle-toothed smile.