Praise the Emperor

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

One fine day, a thread was created which pointed out the fact that, in DH:Ascension, Eversor Assassins can drive vehicles and fly aircraft. This, of course, is pure-awesome, and inspired some writefaggotry, as well as all-around assassin love, but nobody cares about that, they just want to read about the Eversor killing people.

---

Find the target kill the target kill anything in the way praise the emperor kill the target find the target-

The Eversor wanted to scream, wanted to chant and rave and chatter like it normally did as it flew at its targets. It stuck to moving its lips behind the mask in a constant litany.

It was hiding. Quivering from the drugs and sheer anticipation; the Eversor had been dispatched and told to eliminate this House of Irjeld. It didn't know why; only that the house was to be eliminated. There would be guards with weapons to be eliminated. There would be house-members to be eliminated. There would be xenos to be eliminated. There would be so MUCH to eliminate in the name of the God-Emperor. So much to do.

It went through the genemarkers pressed into its mind again. Tall-brown-lean-hairy-healthy-beaky-tall-brown-lean-praise the emperor.

Its mind scuttled around the images that popped up of the target, curled around the maps in its mind, snapped at the aching, throbbing wait the schedule had promised.

It was forced to wait for the lord to come to him. The rules in its mind- God-Emperor spoke to him the rules all right there loud and golden, two-headed eagles- told him to wait, wait, wait. Wait until he came in. Wait for the crowd. Wait for the xeno. Wait!

It hated waiting! It's whole body thrummed with the drugs- the needles in its spine dosing it into wakefulness. So awake, can't even blink. So glad for the mask.

The Eversor shivered in the ducts above the court of Irjeld, and waited, its whole body a testament to the God-Emperor's wrath.

PRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAISE

---

It screamed into the lift-port, shrieked past the doors. Anything in its way was murdered- bodies sliced open, through clothes, through armors, through anything that was in its way.

Find the heretic! Kill the heretic! Find-and-kill-and-maim-and-eliminate! Praise the God-Emperor! Find! Kill! Praise!

The doors didn't stop it. The walls didn't stop it. The Arbites certainly didn't stop it. It was a mass of death and faith made flesh, screaming uncontrollably in pain or ecstasy or rage or everything at once. It slammed through the servitors, climbing over the massive, dumb things, leaving gouges that killed them with poison mere moments later. It wailed through security- none of the defense mechanisms started up, as if afraid of the Emperor's wrath.

Hunt the heretic! Burn the target! Hunt-and-burn-and-kill-and-eliminate! Praise the God-Emperor! Hunt! Kill! Praise!

The Eversor crashed into the little foil, ripping open the door with its terrible claws, pausing in the new window, letting loose shots while howling unintelligibly and shaking violently.

It crawled over the bodies shaking and jumping and twitching, the needles in its spine spurring it onward- Find! Kill! Praise! they sang.

It put shaking hands on the throttle, gun dropping to the ground, forgotten. Rules long-since pressed into its head leaped to the fore, golden-eagle-double-header voice singing the way to the target, through this machine, through this.

The foil shuddered and erupted into the sky, bobbling wildly. The target would not escape. It would eliminate this heretic!

Fly! Kill! Praise!