# "Corruption Within" - 40k Genestealer Cult Fiction



## Handbag of Joy (Dec 1, 2007)

“A Screamer Killer Sir?”
Kendek sat there staring mindlessly at his commander as if mentioning this Xenos horror would render him unfavoured in the eyes of the Emperor.
“Yes, a Screamer Killer, have you ever witnessed one with your own eyes?”
The Guardsman thought for a moment until his flow of mind came back to an even current. He hesitated on his answer,
“No Sir, I don’t believe I have, although training taught me all there is to know about the fearsome Carn-“ the commander hushed him, making his way around his office desk to the deluxe chair the Imperium had kindly given to him in light of past achievements. He dropped noiselessly into the leather furniture and caught eye contact with his guest for an uncomfortable instance which seemed to drag an eternity behind it.
Finally he spoke, cunning in his tone. “Nothing you have learned from the Guard will ever reveal the true power these beasts have. The sheer amount of alienate muscle work enveloped in steel hard carapace astounds simply from what would be a glimpse of its mass in action.”
Commander Silek turned to his liquor cabinet and began to par himself a drink, Kendek felt his body tighten, something in his commander had changed, and it was not for the better, his commander was not known to indulge in such liquids. Silek took a sip from his mixed spirits.
“These… Tyranids”, the words oozed out of him almost unwillingly, as if the name ‘tyranid’ bothered him.
“They may be our…”, he paused, “…enemy, but you have to admire one thing on their behalf, they achieve results, while we… we simply resist and stall their efforts, always ultimately failing, it makes you think doesn’t it private, about which side we should truly be fighting for”.
He let the words sink in to the guardsman’s head.
Kendek’s expression of both disgust and shock froze on him for what seemed infinite; finally regaining control of his facial features he slowly stood to face his commander.
Looking down onto this warped figure of authority he only now noticed the almost purple hue to the man’s facial extremities, this only further disturbed him.
Silek’s words cut through the atmosphere like a sharpened sword boring through a boneless enemy, striking square into the heart of Kendek’s being, his core of belief.
Silek continued, “I have found new beings to devote myself to, and am officially turning my back to the Imperium, the Emperor and Terra altogether”.
In any situation resembling this one common procedure employed by an individual such as Kendek would be to loosen the strap of his lasgun and take aim yet something stopped him from doing just that, instead dumbfoundedly fixated on his commander’s form, mesmerized by all of the unnaturally calculated movements and lack thereof equally.
Silek let the moment pass and continued on with his speech, a previously absent lisp making its debut as he went on.
“Unfortunately I know all too well of your undying devotion to this ‘God-Emperor’ and this puts me in rather a complicated situation to find myself in.” 
The guardsman’s thoughts violently pieced themselves together to make the image of a truly grim scene, one of death, lacking in faith, of unending hunger.
He did not even react when Silek drew the laspistol from his belt; With a last breath held tightly in his lungs almost as to carry with him one last piece of this universe Kendek’s skull caved in, the walls crackling in extreme heat and splintering as it simultaneously exploded and singed off the contents. His body fell unceremoniously as was to be the future for his carcass, never to be remembered.
Silek stood over the mess he had spawned and briefly sighed in sadness. He looked out of his window into the horizon.
“Goodbye Brother, and may your Emperor protect you”.


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