The man who had once been a Commissar looked around at the motley soldiers assembling around him. Traitors, mercenaries, beastmen, mutants, even xenos.
There was a time when he would have killed them all and not cared if he lived or died afterwards.
A time when he still believed in honor, in duty. When he still believed that the Emperor protects.
It had been a long time since he'd believed in anything. He'd seen what lurks out there in the darkness. He knew that whatever sat upon the throne on distant Terra, it could offer no protection. He knew what became of the dead.
Nothing mattered now except survival. Nothing mattered except avoiding that eternal night. He'd betrayed his uniform, betrayed his comrades, all just to buy a little more life, a little more time. He'd sacrificed all those who had followed him, slaughtered all those who had opposed him. Their faces haunted him in his dreams. The ones he'd lead to their death, the ones he betrayed and sold out to the renegades that now followed him.
Still, those accusing faces were a better sight than what he had seen in the darkness.
“Comm'sar.” A familiar voice broke him out of his reveries. “Time t' fight soon.”
The Ogryn. The last one of his men still with him. Too stupid to realise what they had become, still too honest, too loyal. The last one who still believed he had a plan, that there was some greater purpose to any of it than despair. The last one that still believed there was any nobility to the universe.
He almost flinched, seeing the trusting look in the abhuman's face.
He hoped the time would never come when he'd have to sacrifice the Ogryn too, even as he knew it was only a matter of time.
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