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Flight of the Aquila
folder
+S through Z › Warhammer 40,000
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,487
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S through Z › Warhammer 40,000
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,487
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Warhammer 40, 000; nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Introduction
1. Introduction
He awoke and immediately regretted it. Blood stuck to his face and hands and he was soaking in sweat.
He smelt of piss and shit.
He was tied down by means of rope; it had clearly been brought in from off world. No one on this gods-forsaken planet would bother making a rope that sturdy; it was bad for business if rope didn’t need replacing now or then.
How’d he ended up like this?
Last he remembered, he had landed his Aquila-class lander on his private landing pad and was heading towards his favourite diner just down the street. Whatever they were serving it tasted great, but he’d never dared ask what was in the highly questionable concoction.
He really should have found someplace classier, he reflected bitterly, rather than hoarding all his Thrones for a new drive-upgrade.
He’d never made it to the diner. Or at least he didn’t think so, it was hard to focus and his head was throbbing like hell. Only one thing to do, he supposed and gulped.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRH!!!”
The sound echoed throughout the dark room and he imagined that he could hear rats scurrying away. And perhaps the sound of water dripping in the distance? And…
This was pointless.
There was two reasons why he was here like this:
1 – Someone had kidnapped him, intent on taking his assets and keeping him alive until he had given the necessary security codes an outsider would need to take his assets. It’d be a long time of loneliness, isolation, torture followed by a swift, painless death.
2 – Someone had caught wind of the recent deals he’d finished for that client, and his environment had been carefully chosen to best break his will, so he’d break faster. A couple of days without food or water coupled with lack of medical supplies would make most men break.
He kindda hoped it was the first one.
He awoke and immediately regretted it. Blood stuck to his face and hands and he was soaking in sweat.
He smelt of piss and shit.
He was tied down by means of rope; it had clearly been brought in from off world. No one on this gods-forsaken planet would bother making a rope that sturdy; it was bad for business if rope didn’t need replacing now or then.
How’d he ended up like this?
Last he remembered, he had landed his Aquila-class lander on his private landing pad and was heading towards his favourite diner just down the street. Whatever they were serving it tasted great, but he’d never dared ask what was in the highly questionable concoction.
He really should have found someplace classier, he reflected bitterly, rather than hoarding all his Thrones for a new drive-upgrade.
He’d never made it to the diner. Or at least he didn’t think so, it was hard to focus and his head was throbbing like hell. Only one thing to do, he supposed and gulped.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRH!!!”
The sound echoed throughout the dark room and he imagined that he could hear rats scurrying away. And perhaps the sound of water dripping in the distance? And…
This was pointless.
There was two reasons why he was here like this:
1 – Someone had kidnapped him, intent on taking his assets and keeping him alive until he had given the necessary security codes an outsider would need to take his assets. It’d be a long time of loneliness, isolation, torture followed by a swift, painless death.
2 – Someone had caught wind of the recent deals he’d finished for that client, and his environment had been carefully chosen to best break his will, so he’d break faster. A couple of days without food or water coupled with lack of medical supplies would make most men break.
He kindda hoped it was the first one.