I was jolted out of my head by that oh so familiar agony. The only difference being, I'm now in a new location. I was once again, bound to a wall. Only this time, miniscule pools of fetid water and bones abound in this room. No cages with suffering folk, nor screams of grieving children and parents.

In front of me, there is a large gate with holes roughly two meters from the ground for looking in. On the far left corner of the gate, an there is a door open. Probably where this xeno bastard came from. I twitch irritability. Strangely, the prodding stops.

I hear the light tip tap of feet walking away. I deliberately turn my gigantic head towards the sound, and follow the movement. It was a female, likely another wych. Are they one of the 3 that came for me first? Unimportant. I need information, time, and luck. I had none of any. But, I could work on acquiring information.

Soon enough, the xeno stops its grand standing, and turns to face me. "Do you speak, thing?" She asks. I think about answering, of the benefits of meekness and iron willed resistance. After a moment's thought, I choose a course of action.

I turned my head away and blow a jet of warp fire past their left shoulder. It moves slightly right, and it's face grows even uglier. It moves forward, begins to prod my joints. 'Damned sub human filth.' I curse internally, my anger building. It doesn't even hurt as bad as it did in that hold, but by the emperor is it aggravating. But instead of pasting this frail thing, I begin to twitch, like I'm having a seizure.

After an hour of non stop soul pain/irritation, the creature backs away again, having a cheerful smile I can't help but dispise. "So, will the dog learn, I wonder, or will you resist, and let me hurt you again?" It states, her smile growing slightly.

"SUBMISSION." I grate through my vocal receptors. It actually manages to drop the creatures smile a bit. My plan is simple, really. I need to get them to think they broke me, before they actually do. So, I think its best to play the stupid, incompetent, metal monstrosity up and pray the leave me be and don't look hard.

I can only hope. Back on track. I see my new owner, at least I think she owns me, pacing around, looking at me. She finally gets on with it, still pacing. "You are owned by me. I can not have disobedience of any kind, so I will teach you. You will learn. Oh, you will learn..."

She climbs up to my head, jumping from foot to foot, and sticks it straight onto one of my eyes. My optical lens sputters and goes dark, flaring my head with pain. I groan out loud. I dont even have to play it up! That actually hurts in a physical sense!

I twitch my gargantuan body, making clanging and scraping noises in this cavernous room. Is she stupid? I could blow warp fire and incinerate her body and mind in a second! It takes a while before I hypothesize. 'It could be she is just trying to break me in for her own owners. I'm owned by a wych cult. Not a person. I need to remember that. She is just a vicious, low ranking cunt who enjoys my pain.'

I started counting days. She comes in, starts talking, I pretend to rebel, she punishes me, I submit. Rinse and repeat. After 7 days of this torture, a new woman comes in with the old. Given this woman's dress and ornaments, she is higher ranked. They speak in their incomprehensible tongue as they watch me.

As they speak, I stay deliberately still, no head movements, no servo noises, nothing. I simply watch them with tertiary sensors. Thankfully my primary optical lens returned to functional condition days after, so I could count the bone piles to stave off boredom. Eventually, they finish speaking, and the new woman approaches me.

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Preemptibly, I grate "SUBMISSION." And the woman pauses. My loud voice making her ears twitch. She smiles though, and it would make and man weep just seeing it. I dispise her instantly.

"Good. Good slave. It only took you a bit to know your place." She purrs. Her smile only grows as I watch. Is she truly this self assured? I hope so.

"Listen slave. Your duty is to fight who we say you fight. You will fight in the pits of Commorragh for us. You will be worth so many slaves. So, so many..." Is she talking to me, or herself? Irrelevant.

She leaves Soon after, her subordinate leaving with her. And now I am left alone. It took two and a half days before I realize they are just leaving me here.

I need to figure out what I want to do. How to play this... I could go emotional, all full of rage and hate... or perhaps the unfeeling, cold machine. I could, possibly, accentuate that part of my soul to assist with playing that role.

So far I lean to the emotionless machine. It would assist me in the periods of a long isolation, as well as long-term decision making. But... would that be going too far? Emotions are there for a reason...

Damn it. I cannot underestimate isolation being my downfall. There is only one real option, whether I like it or not. No point in hesitation. As I begin to sink deep into my soul once more, I can't help but be nervous as what I am doing is essentially mutilating my soul.

'There is no true good option. This, is the best option for my survival... if only I could truly convince myself.' With that final thought, I get to work.

________________________________

It took 12 days and a bit to separate my more human aspects and my machine aspects. I couldn't do it perfectly, as some were too blended together, but I got most of it.

It is odd. I distinctly remember feeling my emotions, only now it's muted, if not gone entirely. It reminds me of being a sociopath. I can feel, only less. So much less. I can reconnect those removed sections of my being. After all, I only shunted them off to the side.

Anyhow, The course of action.I took appears to be the correct option. The xeno Wretches have not come back into my cell for... ah, 3 months. This is part of their game, I know. First the physical torture, then the mental. It seems I must wait.

The isolation is, in fact getting to me, only slower. The plan remains. If I am to survive, I am stuck here for the foreseeable future. Which means I must be the good, broken dog. Even now, with my emotions needed, I find it distasteful.

___________________________

Another three months have passed. Each month, they give a bit of scrap metal to me. A bit being about half a ton. I have found I can absorb it to repair myself, filling out my armor.

I tested this by scratching a light rent in my leg armor. With my accumulated metal, it repaired itself in a mater of days. Not useful for the battlefield, but better than laying wrecked and unmoving. Some metals give more 'Mass', so to say. As in, i can repair more with 1kg of adamantium then I can with 1kg of steel. It doesn't replace my armor with adamantium, only fill in the armor.

I also found out this 'Mass' can be used to make ammo. An excellent find, with the same time limitations as the repair function. It means that as long as I can absorb metals, I won't die unless my reactor detonates.

It is strange, really. Perhaps the warp changed me in more ways then I've discovered. How could I figure out what, though. Could I manipulate my body? I can manipulate my soul, so... perhaps.

I decide to change my cannon from this... chaos thing, to a imperial standard Battle cannon. If I want to go back to imperial space one day, then I must look the part. If I dont... well, a dread blades life isn't for me.

I begin trying to change the very tip of the barrel first. Slowly, ever so slowly, I try to shift its mass around. It worked. So, over the course of the next month, I work on changing my cannon and coaxial stubber to the imperial look. Eventually, when the work is done, my cannon looks as if it's brand new.

I look at the rest of my body through my immense amount of sensors. It would take time. A long time. But I would be able to return to normal. Or, more normal.

No matter how much I ignored it, my appearance bothered me. I was a loyalist, and still am, even now that I am this... abomination of metal. If I couldn't go back to humanity, it would hurt. So, I began shifting my body to my old shape. To look like a knight again.

To be me again.