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Author Topic: The 3rd Sin - Lust  (Read 1365 times)

refuse

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The 3rd Sin - Lust
« on: April 16, 2014, 12:09:29 PM »

His heart was pounding in his chest; the feeling of the explosive beating elated him like no other feeling had.  The running was pushing his body beyond any limits he had once thought he had, no he considered the possibility that there were no limits to his body.  His running had gone on for two days now, with scant minutes to appreciate the feelings his body was generating.  Hunger and thirst were memories, lost in the languished thrill of running.  All he was had become the current moment, lost before the on rushing next.  He found that he couldn’t remember why he was running or who he was, but he knew running.

He knew the black armored marines were chasing him on the orders of some one else.  What would happen to him when they finally cornered him was something that sent a thrill through him at the thought of the possibilities.  Even as his legs carried him across the broken pavement, his mind wandered to the myriad of possible experiences they would inflict upon him, but that was something for the future and his mind would snap back to the present to indulge in another heart racing moment.  Jumping across open holes in the streets, throwing himself from one building he just climbed to another, thrills he had never thought possible surged through him.

Then there were the moments, not of terror, but of excitement when the black armored marines would find him.  Sometimes they wore flight packs, and their arriving was accompanied by their screaming jets.  Other times he would round a corner to come face to face with a road block, those were his favorite moments.  He would pause to catch his breath, imagining they were studying his face to see if he was the one they were after, and with recognition came action.  The marines would bolt after him, faster then any human he had seen before, faster then he could have run days before.  But somehow he was faster, his legs propelling him from them.  Many times they would have an armored vehicle with them, and he found he couldn't outrun that, but he would dart into the rubble, and the vehicle would have to slow.  The marines would get out and give chase, but by then he would be long gone.

The flight pack marines were a different problem. They could keep pace with him.  Where he would run through the rubble, they would fly above it, keeping abreast of him.  It was during these chases that his excitement would reach its peak.  He knew they would be maneuvering their ground forces to blockade him.  During these chases he would feel more alive then he had ever thought possible.  His senses were heightening to where he could imagine hearing the thoughts of those chasing him, and indeed it seemed like he could.  He would run until he had slipped free of their plan, and then continue running through the city, aimless in his destination but experiencing his time.  The one chase where they had fired their guns at him, each shot had missed.  He would hear where they were aiming, and when they fired, dodging and maneuvering to assure he was not in the path of the rounds.  His closest call had come when two shots were fired at almost the same instant, and only by spinning in place and craning his neck did he avoid the fatal meeting with the round.  After that chase, they had seemed to give trying to shoot him.

It was the night of the third day of his game that they had almost captured him.  A blue armored marine had appeared in the road before him, stepping from the overhang of a building into the surreal moon light.  As their eyes met he had felt his legs go weak, and his will to run fade.  The blue armored figure still had the livery of the black armored marines, and his right shoulder bore the symbol of the raven marines, but there was a fire about him, something the runner had never seen before, almost as if this was the only other person as alive as he was.  The blue armored marine's fire had spared to the runner, draining him of motive, and ambition.  But the runner tired of the experience, and his fire leapt to the blue armored one, tracing back along the channel which connected the two.  But the runner wasn't seeking to sap the marine, he was experiencing him, and sharing his own experiences, the mutual transfer was only a single moment, a flash of existence, but when it was over the boy knew what the Raven Guard marine new, and the marine had viewed the boy’s existence.  The boy understood why they hunted him now, what their plans were and who had sent them.  He also knew that they wanted him alive, to be studied and then destroyed.  The boy started running again, the game was back on.  Behind him the blue armored marine had dropped into a fetal position, his mind violated and corrupted with the boy’s existence.

His mind reconciled the marine’s memories, from the moment of the marines birth, to the moment of their sharing, another life time was added to his.  The knowledge of the marine’s youth, the test of selection, his trip upon the black ship, and selection for elevation to a marine.  The soul bonding with the emperor struck him as the most interesting of all the experiences the marine librarian had undergone.  Then there was the induction in the Raven Guard, their rituals and history, the deeper truths taught to the older members, the veterans, the history of their primach, the founding of their legion.  Then too with a thing they called the heresy, and near extinction of their legion on a far away planet, the subsequent rebuilding.  Then too were the memories of his years of service, the training and indoctrination on the weapons of the Raven Guard.  All this was now part of him, as if he lad lived it, and flooded into him as he ran; he came to understand what he was, why the librarian had looked alive to him, and why they were here.  He also found it interesting that they were confounded that one boy, who hadn't even reached the age of thirteen yet, had evaded them for almost four days.  He was sure that the librarian now understood why they couldn't catch him.

It was on the eve of the fifth day that it really got interesting for him.  The force commanding the marines, an inquisitor of the Ordo Heretcus, had demanded the local planetary defense force become part of the search.  They lined each street, and building top in a long police line.  As they marched up the streets, each building was searched with auspices and savants.  From one end of the city to the other, they were flushing him out of the city.  He was sure the sewers were infested with searchers too.  He laughed what reaction would he get by rushing towards them, what discipline would they have?  His knowledge of the Raven Guard doctrine told him they would be waiting for him to be flushed out, or driven from the city.  They would have strangle-web, psyk-out grenades, and other non-lethal weapons to capture him, all this activity for him.  Sitting on his vantage point of an imperial chapel's tower, he found it quite entertaining wondering if they would find him here, would they scream with impotent anger as he threw himself from his resting point, plummeting to the ground below rendering their efforts moot.  He knew that he couldn't be taken alive, the experiences he would enjoy would be entertaining, but the final outcome would be unacceptable to him.  Bound and blinded by their emperor, eternal boredom, the ultimate sin to him.  And as the soldiers entered the chapel, he thought of that fate, and how many of the “alive” people were blinded by the Imperium.  His mind wandered through his experiences, calling each into sharp relief and then traveling to his next memory.  He even remembered the life of the marine, adding those experiences to his own, the self-discipline, and the mono-static life.  He sat there immobile until the door behind him opened and a soldier stood there.  He didn't even move as the soldier talked into his vox, indicating they had found him.  And he stood for the entire time it took the inquisitor, so sure he had caught the boy that he didn't even call the Raven Guard for help, to walk the stairs of the tower.  It was only as the inquisitor stepped through teh door that the boy moved, standing on his ledge, facing the inquisitor.  The inquisitor only put his hand out, a fatherly gesture meant to show caring and understanding, but the boy could see the inquisitor was alive, and that his fire showed he had not true feelings for the boy.

It was but a moment, but the inquisitor lowered his hand and raised a gun, pointing it towards the boy.  Deep in the boys mind he heard a voice say to him, "Experience the fall.  Live for it."  And he leaned back as the inquisitor's gun fired a mass of entangling threads, but the boys lean and gravity pulled him from the balls path, carrying it within a hairs breath of the boy's body.  The inquisitor was so smugly assured of his aim that he had turned his yes, an attempt to fool the boy into thinking he wouldn't fire, and missed the ball passing above the boy.  Had he been looking he would have seen the eleven gouts of flame driving eleven marines through the atmosphere.  And if he had looked closer he would have seen that ten of them were following the lead figure whose armor was of an older design, and whose flight pack had not been manufactured in ten thousand years.  All these things he would have seen, but the inquisitor saw none of this.

The runner was falling, the force of gravity his only master now, his backwards arch allowed him to see the racing figures streaking towards him.  Had the Raven Guard been fast enough to respond to the inquisitor, would the watch his final moments with amplified vision?  The moments ticked away as the ground pulled the boy to its fatal impact.  The streaking figures were closing faster then the falling boy thought possible, an intersecting path with his; did they mean to catch him?  He closed his eyes to savor the feel of the impact; he hoped that he could remain conscious the final moment, to feel the earth’s embrace once again.

But his fate wasn’t to end upon the streets of his city, he was destined for a larger cause and his favor was great in the eyes of his patron.  The lead figure of the streaking jet packers caught him within an arms distance of the ground.  To save the boy from being dismembered by the forces of his fall and the speed the jet packer was flying, the marine wearing the jet pack had approached at a precarious angle.  The boy was caught and the jet packer had used his legs to slow the final impact, his armored boots sliding along the pavement while the force was greater then the friction his feet could generate.  And with a twist of his body the boy’s catcher launched himself back in the direction he had just come from, back at the approaching 10 Raven Guard marines.

The boy’s eyes opened to find he was held under one arm of the marine, flying just above the ground, racing towards the Raven Guard.  The marine carrying him had drawn a sword that glowed with power and crackled with the force of lighting.  The hand, arm and rest of the armor of his savior were a dark purple, glittering with a hint of precious stone.  Through the approaching marines they flew, with the marine lashing out once, cutting the restraining straps of a passing Raven Guard’s flight pack.

Faster then the boy could run, they flittered through the city while they darted from street to street, no ascertainable pattern or logic in their flight.  The Raven Guard having been lost earlier in the first light of the boy’s sixth day of running.  Above they had spotted thunderhawks of the Raven Guard searching for them, and below they had passed the planetary defense forces also searching, but as the boy had run and lost his pursuers, so had the marine.  All during their flight the boy enjoyed the experience for the newness, but it paled to his own heart pounding pursuit.  And with the full of morning upon them, they left the city, a rocket birthing from his home projecting him to his future, and ultimately his destiny.

It was a few hours after his exodus from the city that he met the one responsible for his escape, and the one who told him of his future.  But all that would be future experiences, and the only words he said to the boy was, “You are the third of seven, welcome to your destiny”.

And the boy knew he was Lust, lust for experiences, for all the things he could possibly sense.  He was the third of the seven chosen sins of Slaanesh.  And his would be a fate worthy of his name.
« Last Edit: April 16, 2014, 12:12:01 PM by refuse »
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