I'm not sure if this will become something longer, or not, yet - I suppose that depends on whether you guys want more - But, it's something short and sweet, I think. Wrote it up, quick, after a moment of inspiration. Hope you guys enjoy!
Never Stop Running
Running, always running, through twisting alleyways and dank, narrow streets. Onwards I went, cradling the ruin of my left arm, gasping for breath - My left lung pierced, deflated, useless. Death was coming for me, they
were coming for me, with their bolters and their chainswords, their prayers and their curses. I paused, momentarily, beneath an overhanging hab, standing in piss, and looked upwards. The Hive, a monolith of rock and metal, was aflame. Black, poisonous smoke, thick and impenetrable, drifted from the city's flanks. This was genocide. Slaughter to preserve a secret. Blind, passionate hatred, unleashed with one goal in mind - Me
A Land Speeder hovered overhead, stablights spearing the gloom, illuminating puddles and rubbish, rats and pale, blind, suckling things that squirmed in the light. I continued to run, thundering across a rusting gangway, when my luck came to an end. It groaned, twisted, and then collapsed. I fell, a dozen levels, weightless, the air rushing at me. I bounced off a spar, felt my ribs break under the impact, and struck a roof, plunging through the rotten tiles. I found my descent halted, laying across the remnants of a bed, in a sub-level bedroom. I groaned, wiping blood from my face, and stumbled through the habitation. I shattered the door, and came out into a broad, empty courtyard.
I have overseen massacres. I have prevented death and destruction. I have ruled worlds, ruined worlds, saved worlds. I have been a warlord and an humanitarian. On some worlds, I am the Saviour, whilst on others, I am the Butcher. Some call me the Prophet, others call me the Sightless. Wherever I tread, bloodshed surely follows. I am an omen, a bringer of misery. I am the Voice of the Emperor, the figurehead of hope, lord of the unwashed masses. To my brothers, however, I am a traitor, an oathbreaker of the most monumental degree. I am all of these things, and so much more. I am-
A bolt-round struck my knee, destroyed the armour, pulverized flesh and bone in a welter of gore. I fell back, struck a wall, and sank to the ground. My run had ended, then.
A giant, coloured like bone, approached. It was hunched, feral, red-eyed and skull-faced. A Interrogator-Chaplain, a Hunter of the Fallen.
'Cypher,' The giant, jabbing a storm-bolter at me, growled. 'Your time has come.'
Cypher,' I grunted, through gritted teeth.
'What?' The Terminator asked, unlimbering a mace. Lightning sparked and fizzled around the head.
'I am a Lord,' I wheezed, grinning, locking eyes with the Chaplain. 'And you will show me-'
The mace swung. I felt it connect with my jaw, felt my bones break, and then all was dark.