Warhammer 40k: Ours Journey

Chapter 12: Tell Mom We Might Not Be Home for Dinner Tonight

"What's happening?"

Arthur was the first to rush forward, the crackling psychic lightning arcing off Ramesses having no effect on him. He grabbed the Thousand Son by the pauldrons and looked at his face, but could only see a blank, white void where his eyes should be.

Don't tell me he's been possessed by a Chaos God.

Meeting Arthur's worried gaze, the Thousand Son's chaotic eyes focused. Then, Ramesses opened his mouth.

He held out a hand, and a voice echoed through the Sanctum—a tone that had resonated in their ears since ancient times.

"V me 50."

(Translator's Note: "V me 50" is a Chinese meme originating from a KFC ad, essentially meaning "Spot me 50 bucks" or "Send me 50.")

"..."

Arthur expressionlessly retracted his hand. Romulus fought the urge to melt his friend's stupid head with a melta gun. Karna, with a look that said "I knew it," put away the power lance he had been about to throw. They all transferred some of their points over.

"Ahhh—I'm alive," Ramesses sighed in relief after receiving the quantified souls. He tapped the deck with his force stave, and a nameless pulse radiated outward through the metal. The gore on the floor began to disintegrate into fine dust, vanishing into the air.

At the same time, Arthur and the others felt a mysterious connection tugging them from the Warp into another reality.

A sense of weightlessness rose from the soles of their feet. Everything inside the Navigator's Sanctum began to float, before simultaneously crashing back to the deck as the ship's internal gravity reasserted itself.

Arthur flexed his ankles. He could still feel his connection to their "safe house" just as strongly as before.

WHOOSH!

The armored shutters covering the Sanctum's viewports slid open. Through the crystal-clear adamantium, the view was no longer the bizarre, swirling chaos of the Warp, but a silent, profound vista of stars.

With that, the Thousand Sons Librarian in his 30k-era Tartaros Terminator armor landed gracefully on the deck.

"What was all that about?" Arthur demanded, balling his fists as he strode forward. If this joker didn't have a good explanation, he was getting a punch to the head.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there," Ramesses said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. "If it weren't for my quick thinking, we'd probably still be stuck in the Warp when this ship fell apart. A Void Whale just passed by in front of us. If I hadn't burned some souls to throw up a thicker shield, we'd all be boss-mobs in a Space Hulk by now."

"...Then what was with all the screaming?" Arthur relaxed his fists, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. For a second, he'd thought Ramesses had been possessed by something nasty. It had scared the hell out of him.

"The light flashed in my eyes," Ramesses said, awkwardly wiping his faceplate. "That Void Whale was huge. It blocked the light of the Astronomican for a second, and I accidentally looked at the Emperor's true form instead. Nearly blinded me."

As it turned out, it was a false alarm.

"...You seem to be in good spirits. Still have the energy to crack jokes," Romulus said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "So, you took fifty points from us. Not gonna treat us to Crazy Thursday?"

The delicate chair groaned and its armrests snapped under the weight of his ceramite-clad backside, the contrast between the small furniture and his massive frame looking slightly comical. No one paid it any mind. They all found a comfortable spot and gathered in a circle. While realspace in 40k was hardly much better than the Warp, it was relatively safe. At least you didn't have to worry about the floor suddenly growing a mouth and biting you.

"Oh, right, Crazy Thursday! Of course, help yourselves," Ramesses said. At his will, a table laden with fried chicken and cola materialized in the empty space between them.

Taking off his sorcerer's helm, Ramesses chugged a can of cola and looked at the three familiar-yet-unfamiliar faces around him, letting out a hearty, enthusiastic laugh.

"At least there are still people in this universe who get the reference."

"Oh, the poor bastard on the Golden Throne probably gets it too," Karna interjected. "Too bad he can't get off it. Past, present, future—he's welded to that thing, forced to watch this cesspit get worse and worse."

Ramesses seemed to be laughing mockingly, but then his laughter turned to sobs.

"Damn it... all alone... living in a shithole like this. Did you guys see those mutants? They're not even human anymore! And the servitors... just looking at those things makes me want to puke."

"And the people here in the Sanctum, they were all just expendable supplies with their tongues cut out! Did you see the mess on the floor? Before I could even react, they were all killed and sacrificed! And for what? 'For the Emperor,' they said! What kind of goddamn cult is that? These bastards... I can burn daemons myself, I don't need that!"

"It's the forty-first millennium! How did humanity sink so low?!"

Everyone knows that a game is a game. In a game, nothing you do is real. Every action is designed to provide you with an emotional reward, so you don't have to worry about morals or reality.

But reality is reality. It's a different story.

Back home, they were the kind of people who drove carefully and yielded to pedestrians, who thought about whether they could provide a good life for a child before having one. They all yearned for order and a better world. How could they possibly endure life in a place like Warhammer?

Ever since they woke up, everything they saw had been a constant assault on their core values.

Earlier, amongst the Imperial Guard, Arthur and Romulus had been deliberately ignoring the servitors that chanted alongside the Sisters and helped transport logistical supplies. They could admire the Sisters' faith and applaud the Guardsmen's courage, but they couldn't stand the sight of those things that still had half a human face, things you couldn't even tell were human or not.

"I'm glad... I'm glad you guys are here. I'm not alone," Ramesses wailed, grabbing Arthur and Karna by the shoulders, tears streaming down his face.

Unlike the others, whose past lives had been relatively peaceful and ordinary, Ramesses had been a "super-rich kid" who could afford to play tabletop wargaming offline. Though they hadn't met in person many times, they all knew from their online chats how free and wonderful his life had been. Even Arthur, who desperately missed his own cozy little home, had gone into a blind rage upon arrival, refusing to think. It was so much worse for Ramesses. To be thrown into a cesspit like the Warhammer world overnight... one could only imagine the psychological whiplash.

Arthur sighed and patted Ramesses's shoulder, then picked up a box of chicken nuggets. He disengaged his rebreather's external seals and took a sniff. His brain analyzed the complex aroma, and behind the new experience was a wave of inexplicable familiarity.

Besides his friends, this table of fast food was the only familiar thing Arthur had encountered since he'd arrived.

But...

"Sigh—"

Arthur put the chicken nuggets down.

Even this familiar creation was something they had just conjured into existence with a power from who-knows-where.

He looked up, at his surroundings.

The deep expanse of stars outside the viewport, the lavish yet alien decor of the Sanctum, and the four of them, encased in iron, no longer resembling the people they remembered...

Everything around them was a constant, screaming reminder of one simple fact.

This was no longer the world they loved.

(End of Chapter)