In the universe, cruelly is but a word for ‘natural’. Planets are burned by their life giving stars, races are wiped out by war, whole star clusters are wiped out on a whim by uncaring insanity.
But sometimes, the universe, in its infinite cruelty and malice, tells a joke. This joke is the soul of one Aaron Michals.
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Darkness filled his vision. His mind though, was in turmoil. ‘Is this really what death is supposed to be like? I get I got shot in a robbery. But for fucks sake, this is terrible.’ he thought. He remembered reading about sensory deprivation and just KNEW he wished for this to be someone else’s problem.
He sat there, in the black nothingness for what felt like years, cursing up a storm that would make a hurricane proud, when suddenly, everything was in view. He immediately he cursed due to sensory overload and just knew if he ever saw god, he would give them what for. Probably with a stick to the head.
When he finally got over his issues, both imagined and not, he began remembering. Well, that wasn’t right, more like knowing. He was Amonoket Ferotep of the Xhereiax Dynasty. He was a Lord, under overlord Zerxer Ferotep, his father, or what once was. He was lord of the 1st Legion. His duty, to protect the dynasty.
More and more information began flooding him, and with it, the personality engrams. They fought him to take over the body. And to be frank, they were kicking he’s ass.
Slowly, the being known as Aaron Michals was losing cohesion. And he would, at this rate, be nothing more then a forgotten memory. ‘NO! FUCK THIS! I REFUSE TO DIE AGAIN! SORRY BUDDY, BUT I AM THE CHAMPION!’. The whole of his being, while singing a particular song from queen, assaulted one part of the engram’s control . Bits broke off and were integrated into Aaron, making him more.
Again he attacked. Gaining more. Again and again, he continued. And after hours or days of back and forth, it, was left. An amalgamation of the two. One neuron, and one human, borne together unto the cruel universe. It… no, he was named Amonoket Ferotep. For this is who he was, is, and may become. But as he focuses back outwards, he sees a lone eye staring down.
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”Lord Amonoket Ferotep, Lord and Protecter of the dynasty, you awaken from slumber once more.” The cryptek said. Amonoket pulled its name his memory engrams, and all data regarding it.
”Ah. Cryptek Aharatet. I have indeed awaked. Perhaps too early. What year is it until the great awakening?” Amonoket asked.
”A bit over ten thousand years until the great awakening Lord.” Aharatet stated. This immediately sent warning bells ringing throughout his head. He searched for why in a scramble. And, in the dark corners of the memory engrams, labeled’Teenage mistakes, don’t open’, he found why. He was in Warhammer 40k. He was IN Warhammer.
With a mental breath in, he began screaming internally. And when he finally stopped, he remembered the time period. ‘Oh fucking hell. It’s about to be, or already is 30k! Fuck! In a minimal amount of time, the crusade is going to start, and all hell is going to break loose. War across the galaxy, the emperor’s death, chaos in, whelk, chaos. I’m boned. This is great.’
His internal rant stopped when he had a thought. He consulted his memory’s, both Necron and Human. And in a rash decision that he knew would haunt him, made up his mind. ‘Fuck it. I don’t care. Not my problem. But… The Emperor must survive. He must live so I can fuck off and do as I please. I’m use do this… FOR WHISKY AND HOOKERS! Oh, and so I can develop pistols for the higher classes.’
With this plan in motion, he slowly got up. His internal clock said that this whole event took only 6 days. Truly a blistering speed considering time has non meaning and life doesn’t matter. From his coffin, he stepped out, and from his sides came a loud BANG of metal on metal.
“LORD AMONOKET, THE LICHGUARD GREET THE LORD OF THE FIRST LEGION.” Two Lichguard with Hyperphaze swords and Dispersion shields were behind him, and guarding where he rested. Their large 2.1 meter height still shorter then his 2.4 meters.
“Come. I desire a walk, and you three will join me.” He stated, not showing the startled panic he felt. Being an amalgamation of two people had its benefits he supposed.
He got down and went forward, his mental map showing where he wanted to go. He remembered those story’s about random kids going to a fantasy world. BUT NOT FUCKIN WARHAMMER DAMNIT! In all those story’s they had great power and could blow up the moon with their piss alone. But he wasn’t that. He was a Necron Lord. Powerful, yes. But not truly immortal. Where he couldn’t personally kill army’s, he would train to. He would build himself weapons, gather his legion if needed, and do his duty.
’For the emperor.’ He thought, sarcasm oozing out of his every word.