I awoke with a start immediately trying to shift my body. 'What has happened I remember... pain, agony, my...'

I can hear the sounds of metal scraping against metal. As I tried to shift again I realize I cannot feel my body, I tried to pull my right arm forward only to feel it meet resistance immediately. I cannot see. I cannot feel. Its like I am buried in a metal sarcophagus.

I was already panicking, but now it's just getting worse. As I tried to jerk my body up, I can hear the screeching of metal and the sound of motors shifting. Just as my panic begins to reach new heights, a feeling of cold hatred envelops me like a blanket, cooling my racing heart.

As I calmed down, I realize this feeling is coming from me. Only then do I recall in brief, snippets and flashes of imagery. 'B-by the emperor... the rift... my home... brother!' I want to scream, but they feeling of emotionless hatred calms me again.

'I saw him leave. He is fine... he has to be... but how am I alive? The rift... oh.' I saw it. After getting an idea of what happened, I look inward to see... 'That.. is not my soul...' And it wasn't. It had the wrong shape. The wrong flavor. It was like an amalgam between...

I look down as far as I can, no easy feat as I feel stiff as stone. But I get a glimpse of my hand. As I shift it, a claw like fist moves. I look to my left, and my cannon moves side to side, scraping on the floor.

'Fuck... FUCK!' With my mental voice, my new body roars in rage. I no longer feel scared, only enraged. 'DAMN YOU TO THE VOID HORUS YOU TRAITOROUS WHORE SON!' I scream internally.

It took an hour to calm down, but when I did, I gave my surroundings a proper look around. I was in some type of hold, and with my sensors, I could tell there were cages around me filled with cowering humans. Most had blood coming from their ears, likely from my roar of rage.

'No time to feel sorry, it seems. I can ask for repentance later.' With a not insignificant amount of effort, I try to speak.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND. ME." I grate out in high gothic. No one answers me. "I. AM..." My name... I for got my name... 'To busy to guess and recall, uhhhhhhh... AHA!' "ZERVOS. OF. HOUSE. JAHARO. CITIZENS. SPEAK." I grate.

Eventually, a young lass of no more then 17 answers in broken high gothic. "I... speak little..." She answers timidly. I can hear someone whisper to her urgently. She ignores them, and stiffens her back. "What want?"

I hesitate. There are many things I wish to know, but knowing the warp, I ask the most pertinent question I can think. "YEAR?"

She looks at me like I'm daft. "M41." I stop moving entirely. My servos and oils freeze. 'Oh... oh shit.' With that one statement, my world crashes, and I fall into my mind.

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An indeterminate amout of time later, I pull out of my own head to the sound of screaming. I focus my senses to figure out everything. I see lithe figures putting people in chains, and dragging them off by the tens. I've read reports on these creatures, even if I've never fought them. Even better, or worse depending, I recall their name from my past life. The Drukari.

'OH BLOODY WONDERFUL.' I yell I my mind. Their distinctive armor and bodys give them away. But that doesn't help. In fact, I'm well and truly fucked. I pray to the emperor that I go into the arenas. If not...

'I will not be the toy of some Haemonculi coven or Archon. Death would be preferable. Best to overload my core and rend my own soul.' I think to myself. As more and more get led off to fates best forgotten, I see a dark eldar woman in little aproach me with two others behind her.

I see them talking to each other, and the lead woman pulls something from... I have no clue, probably some xenotek. She walks up to my bound form and prods me. Instantly, I feel soul searing pain flood me.

'It's not as bad as having my soul flayed alive and combined, but I should scream. I do not want to have my soul sold to a coven...'

I howl in agony, thrashing my armored body. The tiny eldar jump back and laugh am my useless flailing. This process repeats itself. My 10.5 meter frame bucking as far as I could. I then had an idea.

The next time she prodded me, I activated my claws, and began to rend the floor, deliberately missing the chains. I spewed warpfire from my faceplate, lighting up the dark room in hell fire. And finally, I shot my cannon into the ceiling. Then, I dropped limp. I was prodded twice more, but gave nothing but twitches.

Disappointed their game was over, they got some type of vehicle to drag me out. Deciding I can do nothing more, and praying to go to the arenas, I sink into my mind. After all, I need to finish what I started.

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