Three weeks into the Dark Eldar occupation of Charon Hive and Qlashrin Gret was just starting to truly enjoy himself. He stood on an outcropping of ruins that had formed the roof of one of the inner Imperial cathedrals that thousands of the hivers had flocked to before the Dark Eldar came. They were there again now, albeit in an existence they had never expected.

Gazing down at them now, his heart swelled to see the beauty of his new children. Herded by his faithful wracks, he saw a thousand of the experimental test subjects he had worked on the week before. They crawled in the dirt now, oblivious to their beauty. Men and women, old and young, all had received his blessing. Some had been rearranged so that their organs were placed externally, beating hearts and pulsing intestines exposed to the elements. Others who had begged not to be separated from their loved ones by their captors had been granted their wish and grafted together; mouth to sphincter or even by their abdomens being fused together so that they might share their digestive systems. Elsewhere he saw a man who had been crucified and fed growth stimulants  so that now his body was a great bloated mass of flesh and thick veins that hung down to the ground several feet below him and carpeted the floor where some of Gret’s lesser creations sunk teeth into glands and suckled away the bile and juices he produced so that they could later vomit it into Gret’s mixing vials.

Truly, he did not regret his decision to ally himself to the Archon of the Blacksuns at all, for it had allowed him to experience more glories than he had in centuries. In his labs in Commorough he had always had to ration himself to a handful test subjects at a time but now he was glutted on the seemingly never ending supply of humans. He had barely sacrificed or deformed a hundred-thousand or so and there were no less than sixty-million in this hive alone! It was paradise!

“My lord,” grunted a kabalite warrior who had just appeared on the outcropping after an exhausting climb, “tidings.”

“Mmmm?” Gret murmured as he eyed a group of women who had just been marched by in shackles.

“The starport has fallen!” the kabalite rasped as he tried to catch his breath.

“What?!” Gret rumbled, unconsciously activating his suspensors and rising slightly above the kabalite who gulped heavily as he saw Gret beginning to tower over him.

“It’s been taken by the humans! What’s more, the wych coven guarding it has been scattered and Lord Desiato has still not regained consciousness in the reanimation chamber.

“Typical,” Gret sneered. “Well, we shall have our revenge eventually, keep a track of the humans’ movements.”

“My lord…” the Kabalite began, unsure of whether or not he should continue for fear of his life. “They march on Charon Hive as we speak!” Gret stood, utterly stunned for a moment. “In fact, they are nearly upon us, with many times our number. What’s more, we have detected the Tyranid horde’s movements toward us!

“Too soon!” Gret whispered to himself in irritation. “It’s all too soon! I cannot savour what the hive mind has to offer me as test subjects and beat away the humans!”

The kabalite was just about to make his exit, having delivered his report, when Gret began to smile maliciously. Yes, he thought, let them come. After all, he had never had the opportunity to graft human flesh and tyranid bio-matter together before…