Chapter 301 - My SI Stash #1 - Waking Nightmare by Envisioning the Dark Imperium (Warhammer40K) (1/2)

-The worst universe to be Isekai'd into the story~ Even after all the MC's mishappenings, he still has it better than most... Big F/

Synopsis: Thrown from my life in the 21st century and into the Imperial Guard, this is the story of my struggle to survive in the dark millennium. This is a self-insert that will explore Warhammer 40,000 from a serious, realistic perspective. This will show how cruel and inhumane the universe can be. Expect a slow pace and development at first, I want this to truly capture the grimdarkness.

Rated: M

Words: 61K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13573863/1/Waking-Nightmare (Envisioning the Dark Imperium)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

I g_r_o_a_n_e_d. The pain was like being stabbed in the head. It was like the most unpleasant form of hangover I've ever had but amplified a thousandfold. The sensation was akin to having a light shone into your eyes in the middle of the night. Like being thrown into cold water, or the feeling of an uncontrolled freefall, all at once, drawn out forever.

It was unbearable.

”…is waking up.”

A voice, indistinct. Male.

”Good, 'bout time.”

Another. Female. Younger.

”What kind of idiot gets drunk on Offering night? He's a fool.”

Another. Male. Raspy.

”He's not the only one.”

”Where am I?” I managed to mumble, leaning forward and cradling my head, eyes shut tight to block out the throbbing pain of the blinding lights. It was receding, mercifully, but ever so slowly.

”You're on your way to the Victorious Sword,” the first voice again, the male, deeper than the rest.

”The what?” I said, squinting. I was just able to make out indistinct shapes. My sight was returning, and the pain was rapidly receding. It was still hideously uncomfortable.

”The Victorious Sword. The ship we're going to travel on,” the female voice came again. I could not see the speaker. ”Throne, he doesn't know anything.””Looks like a farmhand to me. Probably got drunk because he didn't know it was Offering,” the deeper voice said.

”Who doesn't know that?” The raspy voice again.

”Where am I?” I repeated. ”Where am I, right now?”

”Aboard a transport, heading into orbit.”

”Into orbit? C'mon,” I m_o_a_n_e_d. I was in no mood for jokes. Were it not for the overwhelming pain, I would be somewhat more concerned about waking up surrounded by strangers, but in my addled state I could only assume this was a fever dream, or some sort of prank. Either way, the pain overruled my concern.

”Yeah…did you not remember being offered?” The deep voice asked. I looked up, and through bleary eyes I could make out the people who were sharing my…confines with.

”Oh, what the f_u_c_k,” I muttered. ”How did this happen?”

I was out drinking with my friends last night, having a good time…I thought I made it back home and fell asleep in my bed, but now I wake up and I'm in the f_u_c_k_i_n_g army or air force or some shit…what the hell happened?

”Looks like he's actually waking up, eh?” Someone new spoke, the man sitting next to me. He poked me with his elbow to get my attention.

”You remember anything at all?” he said. He was skinny, scrawny in fact, shorter than me, with tanned skin and dirty blonde hair, with an unkempt mess of hair which might pass for a beard if you squinted. A thin, stubby moustache completed the look. He was a scraggly looking fellow. His eyes were pale blue and looked to be around my age. From his somewhat ragged look, he gave me the impression of a homeless man. An uncomfortable thought formed in my mind.

Had I passed out in the street and been picked up by some weird recruitment drive? Then I remembered I was in an aircraft, and grew even more concerned. Looking around the interior of the cabin, it was definitely a plane of some sort, complete with harnesses and camo netting in the roof. What was this? Did I get thrown into a plane and sent off to an airbase as a joke? Did I sign up for a role in some reality TV? Civilians in the airforce or some shit like that?

No, not unless something very wrong had happened in the time I was passed out. So, what was this? A cult?”Hey, buddy, do you remember anything?” The same voice called out again. I looked over to the other side of the ship. The man calling out was dark skinned, with a thin layer of black hair on the top of his head. He was the tallest one in the ship, I realised, and looked like he had done hard work every day of his life. He was clean shaven and had the sort of easy-going attitude of a man who made friends with everyone.

”I remember…drinking with my friends…we were drunk, but we made it back home. I passed out in my bed, then woke up here.”

”Wow, they got you out of your room. Dedication to duty, that is,” it was the female voice, which I now saw came from a very pretty ginger girl next to the tall guy. She was short, and had a somewhat unkempt look, her curly orange hair stained by dirt and grease. She too was skinny. In fact, all but me, the tall guy, a rather plump dude and another, so far silent, woman seemed to be short and skinny. They also all looked dead tired, downright scrawny at worst or resigned and skinny at best. This was more than a little odd.

”Ok…who dragged me out? What sort of f_u_c_k_e_d up shit is this? Is this a joke? Because if not, this is a very big mistake!” I said, finally starting to regain some sense. The others gave me annoyed looks, with the only person speaking up being the fat guy.

”YES, YES, IT IS!” The plump man shouted. He was sitting in the middle of my row, next to the scraggy blonde who elbowed me. I couldn't see the other two people next to him, but everyone g_r_o_a_n_e_d when he said that. Apparently, they were in no mood for this. I stayed quiet, wanting to see how they reacted to someone claiming they weren't meant to be here. If I had been picked up by some weird cult, I didn't want them turning violent if I threatened to leave. I'd have to wait, be patient, and play my cards right. Then again, if I was in an aircraft, I don't know how I planned to do that.

And what was that about going to orbit?A joke, surely.

”Oh, by his golden grace, shut up Desmond!” The tall guy shouted. ”We all know you don't want to be here, but you were chosen like us, so don't fight it!”

”THIS IS A MISTAKE!” The plump man, Desmond, shouted. His clothes were a lot finer than everyone else's. While everyone else looked like they had just come from a farm or a factory, he looked like he had just come from a renaissance fair. Very strange indeed.

On closer inspection, he wasn't that much older than me. In fact, he might be younger than me. Looking around, everyone seemed to be of similar age.

”I'M NOT MEANT TO BE HERE; I CAN'T BE HERE AND YOU KNOW IT! LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT, LETMEOUT, LEMEOUT, LEMOUT! OUT, OUT, OUT!” Desmond said, growing increasingly desperate and high-pitched. He was having a full-on panic attack. Tears were streaming down his face and he rattled against the harness keeping him in place.

”What's his deal?” I said, trying to be as quiet as possible, lest I attract the attention of the possibly crazy man.

”Didn't want to be offered,” the scraggy man told me. ”Guess service in the Imperial Guard doesn't appeal to everyone.” He laughed, but no one else laughed alongside him. They all either returned sullen or cold stares.

”Wait…the Imperial Guard?” I said, confused. I had to have misheard, right?

”Yep. The Emperor's finest,” Scraggy said.

”Wouldn't that be the Space Marines?” I said, joking weakly, hoping against hope that he'd either look at me like I'm a lunatic, or recognise the phrase and then ask if I'm a 40k fan. I certainly didn't want him to act as though it was a real question.

”Well, suppose so, yeah. But the Imperial Guard is still great, though.”

F_u_c_k.

F_u_c_k_i_n_g f_u_c_k. F_u_c_kity f_u_c_kin' f_u_c_k.

I'm in f_u_c_k_i_n_g Warhammer 40,000 universe, aren't I? I got drunk and woke up in the 40k universe. As an Imperial Guardsman…no…an Imperial Guardsmen recruit. Holy shit. Fuuuuuck. The colour drained from my face. I never wanted to be in the army in real life. Not my kind of thing. But to be in the army in 40k…the Imperial Guard? The Astra Militarum?

Well suffice to say, I really would've chosen death then and there. In fact, had a gun presented itself before me, I would've shot myself to escape what I knew would come next. Alas, there was no gun, no means of escape and apparently no way to convince people that I was not meant to be here.

With a growing sense of fear and dread, I found myself agreeing with Desmond. I was not meant to be here. In fact, I would've preferred to be anywhere on Earth right now, rather then here, in this cargo hold, on my way to some godforsaken ship off to who knows what hell.

At the terrible realization of my newfound hellish reality, I tried as hard as I possibly could not to piss myself.

Chapter 2

Ok, breathe. Time to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Be silent. Be still. Be calm.

You are in the 40k universe. You are going to die sooner or later. Everything you do should be making sure that the 'later' comes as late as possible. Preferably as painlessly as possible too.

From now on, everything you do should be geared towards your current, personal survival. Play it smart. Play it safe. Live to see another day. Live well and die peacefully, that was the goal. I'd settle for just dying peacefully, honestly. This being 40k, hoping for either was a tall order. Maybe we'd be fighting Necrons and I could just run head-first into a Gauss Flayer and get myself deatomized. That would probably be the least painful way to go, as opposed to…being eaten by Tyranids, or chopped up by Orks, or…whatever the f_u_c_k Dark Eldar did to you. That was the fate I'd be avoiding at all costs.

”Hey, hey, c'mon, tell us your story!” the tall guy shouted at me, over Desmond's now inarticulate but thankfully quieter m_o_a_ning.

Well, have to start somewhere. Can't go wrong with making friends. Any friends, I added. More friends means more backup. More people between me and the hordes of enemies waiting to kill me to death.

”Yeah, tell us man,” Scraggy elbowed me again. He seemed to like doing that.

”Don't know what to say,” I said, looking up at the tall guy. I made sure to meet his eyes. I couldn't be weak or cowardly. If we were all going to be recruited, then I had to make an impression as a team player. Loyal, trustworthy, dependable. Desmond seemed to be the weakest link so far, and I couldn't let myself be anything like him. So, best start now. I just have to be better then him. So long as I'm not the weakest link, I'm safe…well, safer.

”I went out last night with some friends. We got drunk. When I woke up, here I was. I don't know why we decided to go out last night…we just could. All my friends were free.”

”Most people choose to stay with their families on Offering night. You know, just in case they get chosen,” the ginger girl said, looking at me weirdly.

”I don't know, guess we were feeling c_o_c_ky,” I said, trying to act as though it were no big deal. Make an impression.

”How old are you?” the tall guy said, smiling. He and scraggy seemed to be the only two in good moods.

”Twenty-two,” I replied.

”Ah. Half-tracker, eh? Nearly made it,” he smiled. The others all either smirked or rolled their eyes.

”Well, I didn't make it, so here I am,” I said, risking a smile. The tall guy seemed to like that, smiling back.”I'm Prassus. This here on my right, she's Oleev. The guy next to her, Temond. On my left, is Burtrus, and then Ratfinch.”

So, they know each other. Or at least their names. But from the looks they gave each other; they knew each other well.

”On your side, you'll find Clauda, then Ivet, Desmond, Egeers, and yourself. Don't know your name. Can't recall seeing you around either. Tell me, where are you from?”

”Oh, I don't know where it will be in relation to you guys,” I said slowly. Shit. I didn't even know where these people were from, the name of their planet, or anything about it. Holy f_u_c_k, I was in deep. No, I wasn't in deep, I was drowning in the deep! Drowning in shit!

”C'mon, armwards or cityward?” the ginger girl, Oleev, said. I had no idea what either meant, so I just guessed. Picking one couldn't hurt.

”Armwards,” I stated, with a fake confidence I didn't feel. They all cheered. All but Desmond, who just muttered about not wanting to be here over and over.

”Uplands or plains?” Oleev said. Looking closely, I realized she couldn't be anything more than 18 or 19 years old. In fact, everyone here seemed rather young, or at least, younger than me. And I was only 22. In my head, I was slowly putting pieces together. This 'offering' they spoke of was clearly some sort of mandatory recruitment. They must've drawn from everyone from a certain age. A blind recruitment? Conscription by lottery, perhaps, or were they voluntarily offered up? Either would explain why Desmond was acting the way he was.

If this really was the Imperium, and this really was 40k, then I knew that few Imperial citizens knew how shit the guard was. Especially young people. They would know nothing but propaganda their whole lives. So, they would likely think this was some grand old adventure, yes? Desmond must be complaining that he was here against his will…maybe he was well off back home? Not to put to fine a point on it, but he looked rather well-fed, compared to pretty much everyone else who honestly seemed rather underfed, bar me, Prassus and the girl who I now knew was Clauda.

Now, Prassus said I was a half-tracker, and that I nearly made it, which would mean I was almost ineligible for conscription…that must mean they only recruit from a certain age range…18-25? That would explain the comments. At 22, I only had three more years to go before I would be free of the conscription.

”Plains,” I said, answering the question after realizing there had been an uncomfortable silence.

”Huh,” Oleev said, seemingly unconvinced. ”How far Armward?”

”Pretty far. Might be why you've never seen me.”

That wasn't exactly untrue. I was from pretty far away from where they lived.

”Huh. Odd that they stick some random farmhand in with us lot. We all come from the same village, in the uplands. Close to the arm. Tandoran Village,” Oleev explained.

”Ah, I see.” I didn't, but the more they told me, the more convincing I could make my lies.

”So, you're a farmer, eh?” Scraggy, I mean, Egeers, said. I just nodded. Wasn't too far from the truth. I did grow up on a farm.

”What's your name?” Prassus asked. Shit. I had no idea what kind of name would fit into their world, so I blanked for a moment, only to curse myself. No one blanks when giving their name unless hiding something.

”Just call me Sent.”

”Sent…short for sentinel?” Egeers asked. I nodded along. Sure, why not?

”What's your real name?” Oleev asked curiously.

”I'd rather not use that name anymore. I'd like to leave it behind,” I said. I was taking a risk here but hoping that these people would build a connection with the character I was constructing. I'd like to be looked upon better than Desmond.

”Sent…yeah. You look like a Sent,” Egeers smiled and elbowed me again. Good thing he was so scrawny, otherwise that might actually hurt.

”Must have had a shit life, huh?” Oleev said. I didn't say anything. Let them speculate. Cultivate an aura of mystique. Hopefully it worked in my favor. Plus, if they thought I had a hard life, but complained less then Desmond, they would think I had more resolve then I myself suspected I had. I don't know how long I could maintain this façade, but hopefully it was long enough that by the time it broke the others would like me well enough to keep me around anyway.

”My life led me here, so I can only see where it goes,” I said slowly. ”Are we all here for the same reason?” I said, testing the waters, trying to work out if there was anything more than a conscription behind this recruitment. I was hoping this wasn't a penal legion or some shit. That would be worse than a normal Guard regiment. I didn't think I had it in me to survive if these guys were criminals, especially if they were violent criminals. I could probably take a few of these people on, if it was one on one, since they looked rather underdeveloped next to me, but I didn't think I wanted to. Viscous desperation was common in penal legions, after all. They probably wouldn't hold back, and they definitely wouldn't share my moral obligations. They'd fight to kill, which I wouldn't do unless forced to.