[40K] Marneus Calgar's Barmy Army - Marneus Pan: Prat in Tights
Marneus Pan: Prat In Tights
A Marneus Calgar's Barmy Army story by NoPoet
NOTE: This story features strong language, vulgarity and (in a later part) Calgar's naked rear end.
He got all of her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up trying for the kiss.
- This depressing statement of the Darlings' marriage is an actual quote from Peter Pan. The only way to make this statement more inappropriate for children is if the author reads it with glowing red eyes, a maniacal smile and flames coming out of his mouth.
Special thanks to Imp Lit member Jorawar1 for suggesting Peter Pan as the basis for a new Barmy Army story.
When Marneus Calgar was a little boy, he was as boring as watching a pile of dog muck on the pavement, praying that someone will be unwary enough to step into it and – beyond your wildest hope! – even slip in it, but nobody ever does. Let's face it, if ten million flies can see a big pile of Barker's Eggs lying on the pavement, human beings are hardly likely to miss it.
So Marneus Calgar was more boring than the Treebeard sections of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. What do you expect? He grew up on Ultramar. Haven't you ever yawned your way through any 40K colour text?
Dick Bannerman, by contrast, was a massive stud – or would have been if he hadn't been eight years old when the Ultramarines walked into his house, pointed at him as he sat at the dinnertable flicking bogies into his sister's mushroom stew and said "We want that one."
Well of course, when one is having the Emperor's science performed upon his body – which really hurts – even the most die-hard of potential studs encounters problems. Astartes surgery is a bad dream of chanting, drugs and horrible growing pains; rather like going to university in Eastern Europe.
Burgeoning thoughts of breasts and stockings fly out of your head like the Ultramarines banner blowing away in a fierce gale, which also unfortunately happened one time… in fairness, Dick caught the banner after several days' pursuit across the continent, though by the time he got back, the Gathering of Chapters was over.
By contrast, eenie-meenie-minie-Milo (to quote his full childhood nickname) was a right scallywag. Shagging, scrumping, joyriding, all of these went unknown to Milo as he spent every night staying up too late playing Minecraft. Such a hiding his father gave him!
"Son!" Mr Milo said as he bent the sobbing Brin across his knee and smacked his bottom red raw, "you're nearly 22! You should be knocking one out to Angelina Jolie Sexy Pics on the internet and smoking drugs and stuff! How DARE you disgrace the world of Tanith by sitting here playing this harmless, joyful game? This world will BURN, young Brin, it will BURN as punishment for your sins, just like that time in Minecraft when you tried to chop some wood and set the forest on fire! Can I have a go when you're done with it? I've heard it's pretty good."
Poor Brin Milo could only find solace playing the Tanith pipes – which were curiously identical to Scottish bagpipes, except they sounded more Irish (or Welsh, depending on Dan Abnett's mood at the time). Little did he know that one day his world WOULD burn, and the very pipes that brought him solace would one day end up in a framed X-ray pict of his lower intestine… courtesy of the man, the legend…
Calgar stepped onto the stage and headed for the vox stand, a heavy thing embossed with bronze Chapter emblems and Imperial Aquila. The Dreadnought who had announced Calgar lumbered away with such slowness the Chapter Master was forced to shove him aside.
The entire Ultramarines Chapter erupted with indifference. Crickets chirruped somewhere like in an American film. Every seat in the Ampitheatre of Calgar's Bigness was taken yet nobody could be bothered to make any noise at all. It was like being at the World Cup watching Khazakstan versus Wales.
"Ladies and Germs!" Calgar greeted his audience. "Stay your screaming, I get enough of that from the girls every time I visit one of the Macraggian villages."
There was no response to the joke. This was the quietest it had been on Macragge since last year, when Calgar had demanded to know which mucky bastard shat all over the floor of the ablutions block. "Nobody leaves this hall until someone owns up." They'd remained there in silence for three weeks until Brother Lukan finally, tentatively, raised his hand. Lukan was now a servitor who cleaned the toilets out with his tongue.
Marneus Calgar, First Lord of the Space Marines and All-Round Top Bloke, took the silence in his stride and gave his men the glorious thumbs-up (since he didn't know how to do the aquila).
"Men!" Calgar boomed. "And Milo! Where is he, the rancid little chick-pea? Ah there he is – I think! Can't bloody see through all these spotlights. Sitting with Dick as usual, Milo? We all know what you get up to when it's dark and the entire Chapter is looking the other way!"
"Indeed we do!" roared Chaplain Derrick from somewhere off to Calgar's left. "Send them to me, sire, I know what to do with men like that!"
"I bet you do, you randy bugger," Calgar muttered. The vox unit had sharp ears and relayed this to the rest of the Chapter.
"What does he mean?" battle-brothers began murmuring. A babble of voices broke out and even Calgar's Prince-Charles-edition ears could only catch snatches of the conversations.
"What is 'randy'?"
"…dissent among our senior figures…"
"…that feth-bomb of a Chapter Master, accusing our Chaplain of arse-buggery…"
"…onanistic son of a bitch -"
"…dirty old bastard, I'll chop his…"
"That's it, I'm corrupted! I'm gonna wear pink and worship Slaanesh -"
"…you can tell because they walk like John Wayne the next day -"
"Is this gonna be over soon? Home and Away's on in fifteen minutes."
"…sticks it up Dick's arse."
"ULTRAMARINES!" Calgar roared, slamming his hands together in a clap that deafened Milo and caused an avalanche in the mountains beyond. The assembled warriors fell silent, though resentment billowed like an invisible fog.
"Warriors of the best Chapter ever! The days shorten and our thoughts turn to writing our Christmas lists. The end of summer and the beginning of autumn is a sacred time, for it is story time. Story time is a momentous occasion. The venerable Dreadnoughts, ancient heroes from the Age of Strife, tell us the great deeds of our ancestors, blending in plenty of made-up shit to make it more exciting and give it symbolic meaning."
"BOO!" someone yelled from the seats.
"Nerve glove for you, Apothecary Mender!" Calgar said, peering into the gloom beyond the spotlights. "Pain level, 'Having a Woman Take You To the Peak of Ecstasy, Only To Realise She's Actually a Chinaman.'"
"Aw, feth! Er… I'm not Mender, I'm… er… his twin brother."
"Lying bastard!" Calgar spat. He leaned forward over the vox stand. "I can see it's… oh feth!"
The entire stand collapsed under Calgar's flabby, rancid bulk. Calgar banged his face against a brass Ultramarine emblem, leaving a red U-shape across his face. Calgar stood up, rubbing his head, mind whirling with excuses as to why he'd actually done that on purpose just to make the Chapter laugh. It all fell flat. He'd made a prat of himself once more.
"Look our, sir!" Dick's voice called from the audience.
A huge set of spotlights connected by a crossbar fell down from the ceiling and hit Calgar on the skull, immediately flooring the Master of Ultramar like a weightlifter being pinned by his own weights.
Half the audience cheered at this fine display. Mender could be heard laughing his head off, almost crying as he clutched his sides.
"Best speech ever!" he yelled. "Encore!"
The stage began to come apart at the seams and Calgar crashed down into the chamber beneath them, landing chin-first on the rockrete floor. Crunched teeth flew out of his mouth in a spray of blood and spit. The lights rebounded from his scalp once again. A little black scribble appeared above Calgar's head with tiny golden struthids running round it, accompanied by the sound of cheeping. Planks of wood rained down around him, most of them cracking off his skull.
"LOOK OUT, SIR!" Dick yelled again.
Calgar rolled over and peered up at the ceiling.
The announcer Dreadnought had been unbalanced as the stage broke and the venerable brother was tiptoing – against his will – towards the man-shaped hole Calgar had left in the centre of the stage!
"FETH!" the Dreadnought blared; it pirouetted on the spot and fell backwards into the hole.
"Mummy," Calgar sobbed as he watched the Dreadnought coming towards him in slow motion.
Even as Dick and Milo reached the broken stage, dust and machine parts flew up from the hole with a clonk that sounded like the gong at the end of existence.
They peered over the edge. The Dreadnought was clambering back to its feet, revealing Marneus Calgar, flattened into a giant 2-dimensional cartoon of himself. The expression locked on his face was quite revealing: he'd thought he was going to die.
Milo and Bannerman dropped down beside their lord. Milo landed badly and rolled across Calgar's prone, flattened form.
"MMMMM!" Calgar said.
"Are you all right, sir?" asked Milo.
"Mmmf-mmf-mff-mff, mm-mm, MMMM!"
Dick unpeeled Calgar from the ground and shook him out like a dusty blanket. Calgar's body popped back to its usual size. The mighty Smurf sank to the ground, clutching his head.
"I said, are you all right, my Lord?"
"And I said funnily enough, Milo, NO!" Calgar collapsed back onto the ground. "Get me to the apothecary, I've lost my last Wound."
Marneus Calgar passed out; they knew he wasn't dead because he didn't turn black and have his head go limp like Optimus Prime in the horror film that is Transformers: The Movie (1984). Come on, EVERYONE cried at that bit. You didn't? Well there's something wrong with you. So there.
When Calgar woke up, he was in Neverland. (See, we're not wasting any fething time this year.) He didn't work this out straight away – since he was thicker than pig muck mixed with rockrete powder – but there's no need for you to real-time it.
The landscape was bizarre and somehow remote. He was lying on a beach beneath a cloudless sky. There were hills on three sides and to his left, beyond the sea, Calgar made out distant islands where rocks climbed toward the sky. Everything seemed wrong. At first Calgar thought his head-splitting migraine was the cause. He stood up and brushed sand from his power armour.
"Feth me!" said the Leader of the Ultramarines, scratching his head. "I didn't realise we had a tropical beach on Macragge. That'll teach me for sitting inside with the curtains drawn watching porn!"
Calgar climbed a nearby hill – and climbed, and climbed.
"I've got a right sweat on!" Calgar said to himself. "Perhaps it was a mistake to install stair-lifts everywhere at Smurf HQ. Where the hell am I?"
He reached the top of the hill. The landscape stretched ahead. There were jungles and cliffs, plains and craters – an Ultramarine's veiwing distance was set to FAR by default and his resolution would have blown an average person's brains out.
"Oh God-Emperor! This reminds me of that wretched Minecraft game Milo's always pulling his plonker to. I wouldn't mind, but I'm on the front lines against the Tau Expansion and half the Chapter are sitting in their cells back on Macragge, building fething castles and stuff."
SexySabbat has joined the dream.
Bigdick69 has joined the dream.
"Sir?" Dick's voice said. "What's going on? Where are we?"
"Woah!" Milo said. "I can't believe it! We're in Minecraft!"
"Aw, for feth's sake," Calgar moaned, turning to face his so-called friends. "I can't even die without you two bugging me!"
"Sir, don't be like that," Dick said. "We're like Kirk, Spock and McCoy."
"He's got big ears at any rate," Milo muttered.
"I heard that!" Calgar said, touching his ears to see if they really were big; they really, really were. "The nerve glove for you mate, pain level 'going to the sex disease clinic for the umbrella.'"
"Oh, Fethy Ruxpin!"
"And you can change your username an' all. I thought the Saint was coming; nearly shat myself."
"Now now, sir," Dick said. "Pace yourself this time. We're only just getting started, there's plenty of time for that."
"Anyway," Calgar said. "Would you mind explaining what we're doing in Minecraft?"
"Ah, yes," Milo said. "I asked Tech-Priest Nerdingham to hook you up to the computer so we could communicate with you in a dream."
"What for? Why didn't you just stick me in a regenerator booth?"
"Because they don't exist, sir," Bannerman said.
"The point is," said Milo, "nobody knows where the key to the champagne cabinet is, so we needed to create a virtual world where Dick and I could physically ask you where it was."
"What do you need the champagne for? I hope you aren't celebrating my death."
"Er… of course not, sir," Dick said, thinking quickly. "We were… er…"
"Going to have it waiting for you when you woke up!" said Milo.
"Good thinking!" Dick cried, holding his hand up for a high-five. Milo cleared his throat and nodded his head in Calgar's direction.
"Er… I mean, I haven't congratulated him yet for his brilliant idea," Dick said meekly.
"So I'm not dead then?"
"No, sir," Dick said. "You're in a coma. Apothecary Mender says you'll make a complete recovery. He's waiting for you to wake up so he can give you an enema."
"What for? Can't he do it while I'm asleep?"
"I'm not sure, sir, he just said you need one. He was very keen for you to be awake for it."
"Hmm, this installment of the Barmy Army gets stranger and stranger. How long will I be out for? I can't stand Minecraft. What do you actually do on it?"
"Nerdingham said Milo and I can just hop on the spot and it'll jolt us back to consciousness. Your recovery will take a few more days."
"Oh God-Emperor, that long? I can't face collecting three hundred gravel and chucking it all in a lava pit just because I needed five flint."
"Just build a mud hut and stay in it like other new players," said Milo. "Anyway, about that champagne…"
"This is a kind of computer-generated dream then?" said Calgar. "Fine, I'm dreaming of Pussy Galore."
"Speaking of pussies, sir," Dick said, nodding towards an oncoming stranger.
"Now then, gaylords!" the man greeted them. Man? He looked more like an Eldar. He wore a green jacket that looked like it was made of leaves stitched together; his codpiece bulged within green tights. There was a smug smile on his face – a face which on the surface seemed handsome, but the skin was stretched until it fleetingly resembled a skull. There was a haunted quality in his eyes. He wore a green cap with a red feather sticking out of it.
"Do you know who I am?" the man said. He suddenly seemed very young, where moments ago he'd looked about thirty.
"Zephro Carnelian?" Calgar guessed.
"Do I look like the Harlequin Man?" the youth asked. His laugh was pleasant with a mocking undertone. It was most disconcerting.
"Yes," our heroes agreed.
I think that's the only time in this story that all three of them will agree on the same thing at the same time.
"My name is Peter Pan. You have entered the realm of Neverland, my home. You will be my guests from now unto eternity. Slaanesh has decreed it thus."
END OF PART ONE
The sledge looked sized for one of Santa's elves. It was made of shiny red plastic. There were no engines or weapons.
"Perfect?" Calgar snorted. "You couldn't fit Kevin McCallister in that! How are four of us going to get in?"
"You didn't give me enough points to buy anything proper. I had to get what I could afford."
"You fething wally, it isn't even blue." Calgar inspected the tag which was still attached. "Fun for children aged two to six."
"Milo does have a point, my Lord," said Dick. "When I suggested that we're meant to be the most balanced Chapter and should allocate our spending for all contingencies, you said – and I quote – 'If I want to hear the raving of a leftist commie, I'll watch BBC News'."
Last edited by NoPoet; 08-20-12 at 08:51 PM.