The crimson glow of the organic decontamination chamber filled the small room, accompanied by the piercing sound of alarms.
Hades instinctively closed his eyes tightly, preparing himself.
Specially formulated disinfectant sprayed down in the confined space, washing over his genetically enhanced body. Despite his post-human physiology, the intense treatnt stung, leaving his skin feeling raw.
This was the fifth round of decontamination, with the Apothecaries having tailored the treatnt specifically for Hades and Fernando.
Hades stood inside the cramped, single-occupant chamber, one wall made of glass to allow the Apothecaries outside to monitor the process.
Currently, the Apothecaries in the observation room stared intently at him through the glass, their eyes practically glowing with enthusiasm.
‘I’m not embarrassed. I’m not embarrassed,’ Hades chanted internally.
Next ca ultraviolet sterilization. The sudden burst of harsh purple light nearly blinded him, and he thought for a mont his remaining right eye might go completely dark.
But the ordeal wasn’t over yet. Fully suited Apothecaries entered, carrying a tank of disinfectant.
Although Hades and Fernando had remained within the sealed system of their power armor, additional precautions were deed necessary to cleanse their respiratory systems, which had been exposed to the contaminated air.
Apothecary Leo pulled out two nasal irrigation tubes, fixing Hades with a cold, unyielding stare.
‘I accept my fate,’ Hades thought.
What followed could only be described as torture.
< >
Half-dead from the relentless disinfection process, Hades slumped lifelessly in an interrogation chair. The harsh white light from above bathed the room, reflecting off his skin, now bleached a shade paler by the disinfectant.
He looked, unironically, like a corpse that had been soaked too long in embalming fluid.
The heavy iron door groaned open, and Mortarion ducked slightly to enter the room.
Hades instantly straightened in his chair, adjusting his posture and mindset. He was ready to admit his mistakes and reform his ways.
Mortarion wasn’t wearing his power armor. Instead, he was dressed in his plain combat attire, which hung loosely on his gaunt fra.
At his waist, the Xenos handgun Lantern rested quietly, as if dormant.
Mortarion approached in silence and pulled out the chair opposite Hades.
Screeeeech—
The grating noise echoed in the empty room as Mortarion deliberately dragged the chair out, stretching the mont and setting the stage for the interrogation.
Mortarion sat down casually, adopting the posture of an authoritative figure awaiting the confessions of a guilty subordinate.
"You stink," he said, wrinkling his nose.
Hades’ temper flared instantly. ‘I stink?! That’s your opening line? Between the two of us, who’s the one with the worse stench? You’ve got to be kidding .’
But the burst of anger fizzled out just as quickly. ‘Fine. To be fair, even I can sll sothing off on myself.’
"You’re right. You’re always right."
Hades swallowed nervously.
"So, uh… Mortarion, you know I underwent treatnt aboard the Imperator Somnium, right?"
Sorry about this, Emperor. You’ve been volunteered.
"And, well, my physiology isn’t exactly normal, is it? I’m a… unique Untouchable."
Mortarion didn’t reply. From behind his respirator, the faint sound of hissing emanated, almost imperceptible.
“So… during my occasional monts of lucidity, the Sisters of Silence—composed of Untouchables like —shared so information with ,” Hades began cautiously.
“They told you?” Mortarion’s voice was sharp.
“They wrote it down,” Hades corrected quickly, anticipating Mortarion’s tendency to fixate on details.
The Primarch crossed his arms and fell silent. His father, after all, had indeed sent the Sisters of Silence to deliver weapons to Hades.
“So… I learned that entities exist in the Warp,” Hades continued.
Mortarion’s brow furrowed at this but he did not interrupt, allowing Hades to press on.
“These Warp entities draw power from our emotions. The stronger the emotions, the more sustenance they provide,” Hades explained, speaking faster.
“Due to the diversity of emotions in sentient beings, these Warp entities are divided into… distinct types.”
“You had better know exactly what you’re saying,” Mortarion warned, his voice low and nacing.
Hades blinked. “This is just what I’ve deduced from the Sisters of Silence, my interactions with the Librarium, and my own reading and reasoning. I could be mistaken, which is why I wanted your input to confirm or refute it.”
Mortarion stared at Hades, clearly weighing the truth in his words.
“Then why didn’t you tell sooner?”
Critical hit!
“Because I wasn’t sure if any of it was true!” Hades shot back, his voice rising slightly. “It wasn’t until today, when I saw that thing—that Daemon, or rather, that Warp entity—that I could confirm the reliability of this information.”
“I didn’t want to bother you with uncertain speculations,” he added quickly, trying to soften the blow.
“And the Daemon we encountered today,” Hades continued cautiously, “belonged to the category of—”
“Nurgle.”
The final syllable hit the air like a hamr. Across from him, Mortarion visibly flinched.
< >
Lush greenery thrived in the Grand Garden, its enchanting decay wafting sweetly through the air. Mortarion lay lazily beside a soft, boggy marsh, listening as plague toads croaked out praises to the Grandfather.
His wings itched slightly. Perhaps the mischievous Nurglings had brushed away so of their protective scales with their antics.
He didn’t like those ever-screeching little bugs.
Mortarion shifted, intending to shake the Nurglings off his wings.
Wings?
Wait… Wings?!
A blinding white light suddenly cut through the vivid hallucination, shattering it like glass.
Mortarion’s face turned deathly pale. Heavy breathing echoed from his respirator. The searing pain in his hands drove the vision away, dragging him back to reality.
He looked up—
“Mortarion! Are you alright?!”
Hades was gripping his hand tightly, concern etched on his face. The chair Mortarion had been sitting on was now toppled over. Clearly, the sudden vision had shocked him as much as it had Mortarion.
Mortarion inhaled deeply, steadying himself before turning his sharp gaze back to Hades.
“Hades…” he rasped, his voice filled with venom. “What is Nurgle?”
The words burned like acid as they passed his lips.
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