a fanfic by Daniel Trump
open source not copyrighted
This is a fan fiction and therefore includes sex, violence, gay stuff, and anything inappropriate and/or that the traditional storytellers aren’t willing to include. Also, as a mentally ill man, I decided to appropriate a mentally-ill villain – Konrad Kurze – and turned him into a mentally-ill hero. Too many crazy people are wrongfully considered to be monsters. I also write novels – if you like this check out Teen Slasher Zero by Daniel Trump on amazon. Rate and review. Thank you for your patronage.
I tried to pay attention to class, but it was fucking boring. The voices in my head were way more interesting. In my head we were trying to save reality from a terrorist who had kidnapped POTUS – the American President – and sent him to a moon lair and surrounded him with two hundred karate experts who were somehow all racists against demons. The chaos marines clearly needed to be called – in the story in my head. In reality we were learning about the Black Plague. Fleas were hungry constantly and could not get full no matter how much they bit and fed off of rats and humans and spread the Black Plague and killed half of Europe and a lot of Asia as well.
I wanted to get good grades but it was hard when the class was so dry. The teacher wore a cheap suit and was a little overweight and middle-aged and didn’t look to understand me at all. He talked slowly and clearly, being careful to explain everything with clarity and precision. I looked around. I couldn’t handle this anymore.
We had lost in my head. The terrorist had killed POTUS and taken over reality and I was to blame. I was being yelled at in my head by the leaders of the heroes.
I screamed bullshit in my head.
I whispered bullshit aloud.
I was Konrad Kurze, the Night Haunter, a chaos marine primarch, a legendary soldier who was re-doing his teenage years in the year 2024. I had become this so that the chaos marines and the space marines could learn to co-exist and not break reality fighting each other.
I wore blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I was in reasonable shape now – we had me on a strong exercise regimen while training me to become a chaos marine and I had lost all of the weight that I had ever gained. I was skinny and in good physical health.
I walked out of the classroom without asking permission.
Celestine walked out behind me.
Celestine was from the Sisters of Battle. She was a pretty young blonde teenage girl wearing a white dress to school. She smiled at me. She was one of the greatest fighters in the history of existence – and on the Imperial side, on the side opposite me – but we were supposed to be learning to get along and work together.
“I’m sorry,” Celestine said. “Whatever hell goes on in your head, I’m sorry, but you have to tough it up and fight to get back into class and learn and finish high school – despite all this mental hell you have to go through.”
“No,” I said. “I need to scream at the voices inside of my head. That is clearly the priority.”
“I’m sorry, but you have to know that the voices aren’t real,” Celestine said. “What they say doesn’t matter in the least. Reality matters. Real life rapes and murders matter. What goes on in your head isn’t important.”
“It matters to me,” I said.
“Right,” Celestine said. “I understand that. I appreciate that. I’m just saying, reality is wonderful. It has cool stuff in it. Maybe you should pay attention to that cool stuff, to reality, and you’d have a more fulfilling life experience.”
“Oh,” I said.
“You say oh too often,” Celestine said.
“Once!” I said.
Horus walked up to us. Horus Lupercal was the leader of the chaos marines, the soldiers that worshiped demons and supported the demon community. He was a living god to us.
“Dead demon, needs help, needs her case to be solved,” Horus said. “She was mentally ill. This is your thing. We need you on this one, Night Haunter.” Night Haunter was my nickname.
“Check,”I said. “School was not happening anyway.”
“So now you can get things done?” Celestine asked. “And a girl was killed. I’m helping.”
“Okay,” I said. “Come with. How am I getting there? The usual shuttle?”
Horus nodded. “It should get you from here to there,” he said. “It’s not the Spirit of Vengeance, but it’s a nice little transport ship to get you from one spot to another. It’s on the school’s roof.”
“Does anyone notice?” I asked.
“Yes,” Horus said. “They go along with it. They owe us. We defended Earth against the tyranids a few months back.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” I said.
“Get this done,” Horus said. “I need you to act with intelligence, dignity, and professionalism. I expect victory. I expect greatness. You are no ordinary person. You are a chaos space marine. Be worthy of that.” He hugged me and walked away after handing me a tablet with a data file about the dead demon girl.
We walked up to the roof – Celestine and I. On the roof was a shuttle, a ship about the size of a large van. We got into the shuttle and sat down. Perturabo turned and smiled. He was my brother and a strategy expert and technical genius.
“Be careful and touch nothing during the flight,” Peturabo said. “We are flying to Atlanta, Georgia, where a demon girl, Lisila, was one of the pretty and popular girls at a suburban high school near Atlanta, Georgia.”
“I’m texting her friends,” Celestine said. “One of them wants to talk on the phone. I’m putting it on speaker.” She called a number and someone answered.
“Hello,” the person answered. “I, Lyla Johnson, was a close personal friend of Lisila. I loved her dearly. We partied together, we slept together, we dated cute boys together, we got drunk together, we studied AP chemistry together. We did everything together. She was the greatest girl in the history of girls. And now she’s dead, and they say suicide.”
“Do you think that?” I asked.
“No?” Lyla said. “I don’t think so. I mean, she was taunted and harassed and slut-shamed, but what teenage girl hasn’t been? She was pretty strong and confident. I didn’t think that she was taking it too poorly.”
“Was she a demon?” I asked.
“Yes,” Lyla said. “She was a demon, a cool one. She was a cool chick who could transform and look human or look like a demon, whenever she wanted. We loved her. What? You expected us to hate her? To not know? Welcome to the 21st century. No one cares what race you are anymore. It’s cool.”
“Cool,” I said. “That’s the goal, right?”
“Right.”
We landed at their high school. We got out and looked at Lyla, a pretty teen girl with blonde hair who stood there in front of the shuttle. She wore a black dress.
Next to her stood a space marine, someone in armor and wearing a bolter and a chainsword. He was not smiling. He was looking angry at everyone and everything. I took a look at him. He was my brother, Rogal Dorn.
“Dorn,” I said.
Dorn was the thinker and planner for the space marines, a genius with no equal except maybe Perturabo. Dorn smiled a little smile.
“We drew the same case?” he asked.
I nodded. “Let’s team up,” I said.
Dorn nodded. “They say suicide,” he said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “The friends don’t buy suicide, so I don’t buy suicide. I will know more when I talk to the spirit of the dead demon.”
“Talk to the spirit? How about a traditional investigation? Processing some physical evidence?” Dorn asked. “At least you are interviewing people. That’s a nice start.”
“That can also be done,” I said. “I have a process, you have yours.”
“The body is this way,” Dorn said.
We walked down into the high school from the roof.
The high school was expensive and swanky. The rooms were high-tech for 2024. Every room had all the technical equipment – multiple computers and screens and laptops given to every student. There was a huge statue of a thinking black woman in the entry hallway of the high school. Right behind the statue and in front of a series of trophies and listings of state championships victories lay the body of the girl, Lisila Walis. She was dead, wearing a red dress. Her face was facing down. There was a little blood near the body but not much.
I walked towards the body. Then I made a call.
Fatey answered.
“Fateweaver,” Fatey said.
“What do we think about this dead demon?” I asked. “The computer is transferring you a rendering of the entire scene now.”
“This is a fascinating scene,” Fatey said. “I cannot believe it, but this appears to be suicide at first glance. I have to run some tests.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to talk to her.”
I channeled my inner energy and started to look for her spirit. An entity reached out to me. I sensed dark energy, anger, rage.
“Are you Lisila?” I asked.
“Yes,” a voice answered.
“Did you kill yourself?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“I was cyberbullied,” she said. “I had enough. I checked out.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“I couldn’t handle it, the pressure, being a pretty girl, a teenager in America. I couldn’t handle the responsibilities, the expectations.”
“I will do something about this,” I said.
“What? There is nothing that will fix this. I am irrevocably broken.”
The spirit faded away.
I looked around.
“Fatey, she says suicide. You will check everything? I think we are done here. We need suicide awareness and prevention education and that’s it.”
“I’m surprised,” Fatey said. “You usually aren’t wrong.”
“What?” I asked.
“I ran some tests,” Fatey said. “That is not Lisila Walis. That is a cloned body.”
“What?” I asked. “What in the fuck?”
“They murdered a fake, created a fake, created a fake already dead, hence the lack of blood gushing from the suicide with the knife,” Fatey said.
“Understood,” I said. “But why go through all of this?”
“I don’t know,” Fatey said.
“We need to find her body, or her, if she still is alive,” I said.
“I can help with that,” Celestine said.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes,” Celestine said. “I know a girl, a witch. She can track her DNA as it left this place and follow it to its destination.”
“Cool,” I said. “Let’s have this witch cast her spell.”
Celestine called someone on her phone.
“Hey, Sasha, I need you to find someone,” Celestine said. “Can you show up?”
“I can’t,” someone said on speaker. “The energy required to teleport is massive. Especially at long distances. I can’t show up.”
“Can you find Lisila Walis?” Celestine asked. “Not the clone body here. The real one.”
“I can,” Sasha said. “The spell requires something to work. You have to do something to get the spell to work.”
“What’s that?” Celestine asked.
“You need to learn something true about her, a secret,” Sasha said.
“On it,” I said. I turned to Lyla. “Secret.”
Lyla smiled. “We cheated on our boyfriends with our gay friend whenever she wanted, outrageously and when we were supposed to be praying and studying.”
“The spell accepted this secret,” Sasha said. “Oh, no. She is on a spaceship orbiting the moon. The Spellthief is the name of the ship. It’s a dark eldar ship. A drukhari ship.”
– “Thank you,” I said.
“We need something better than this shuttle to approach this enemy frigate,” Celestine said. “We’ll need a frigate of our own.”
“Do we have spaceships?” I asked.
“We stole a couple from the year 40,000,” Celestine said. “We have a few.”
“Cool,” I said.
Fifteen minutes later a frigate appeared above the high school. Celestine, Rogal Dorn, Perturabo, and I got onto the frigate and walked onto the bridge. The ship began to fly towards the moon.
“Fifteen minutes,” Perturabo said.
Our ship looked like a 21st century aircraft only much larger and designed to have a crew of twenty-five or so wandering through ten thousand square feet of space or so. We saw the ship bristling with plasma cannons and laser cannons and sensor equipment.
“You guys up for role-playing Friday?” Perturabo asked.
“Sure,” I said. “What are we going to be playing? Who will run?”
“I will run,” Perturabo said. “It will be fun. Dungeons and Dragons. Waterdeep city adventure. Lots of running around having adventures.”
“I’m in,” Celestine said. “Sounds like fun.”
“Sure,” Rogal Dorn said. “Why not?”
“Sounds good,” I said. “I will play a rogue with nothing. We will see how much money he can accumulate during the course of the adventure or adventures.”
We discussed role-playing while Celestine called Grayfax from the corner of the bridge.
“I love you,” Celestine said.
Grayfax said something. I couldn’t hear what.
“No,” Celestine said. “No, I love you. Not them. Goodbye.”
Our ship saw the enemy ship – a drukhari raider modified to fly through outer space. It had a mounted dark lance which pointed directly at us.
It fired before us – lancing black energy – or the absence of energy – at our frigate. The ship shuddered and slammed as explosions rocked our ship.
“Start dodging!” Celestine said. “Board their vessel!”
“I can sneak onboard with a space suit and a jump pack,” I said. “Then I can cast a spell to summon Celestine and Dorn.”
“It’s risky,” Celestine said.
“I can do this,” I said.
Celestine nodded.
I grabbed a space suit and attached it to my armor. I wore the customary armor of the Night Lords along with my customary jump pack. The ship rocked from another hit. It began to shut down systems. Power flickered on and off.
I jumped out the airlock and outside the ship.
It was beautiful.
I saw Earth from the moon, and I saw the most beautiful sight of it.
The moon was beautiful as well, with cavernous holes and mountainous hills dotting the landscape.
I flew to the dark eldar Raider. It was bigger than a normal Raider and more heavily armed and armored. I made it to the ship as it was dismantling the frigate. I arrived at an airlock for the drukhari vessel. I opened the airlock with a psychic power.
I closed the back door and opened the airlock’s inner door. I took off the space suit and opened the door to the rest of the ship. One person stood there, wearing double swords.
An incubus.
He drew his weapons and swung at me in a downwards arc towards my midsection.
I blocked with my lightning claws.
He tried to chop my head off with one of the two swords.
I ducked and tried to sweep his leg with my lightning claws.
He backed away, but he stumbled as he did so, losing his balance for a moment.
I jumped ahead and tried to stab him in the chest.
He moved to block, but he just wasn’t fast enough.
I stabbed him in the chest with both sets of lightning claws.
His eyes faded away. He said something in the elven language and collapsed to the ground, dead.
I channeled and summoned Celestine and Dorn.
They appeared.
Celestine wore her Sisters of Battle armor and carried a flamethrower and a sword. Dorn carried a massive chainsword and bolter. They saw a series of rooms along a hallway. I looked in the first one and saw Lisila Walis, alive and scared, wearing a bikini.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m a chaos marine. We are here to rescue you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you. They were selling me, taking me to the dark elf city. I was never going to see Earth again, they said.”
“We still have to take down that dark lance,” Dorn said.
“I’m bodyguarding the girls,” Celestine said.
“I’m on gun duty,” I said. I walked up a set of stairs to the weapons room and walked into a small, cramped room with four kabalite warriors controlling the dark lance.
I charged at the first one, but all four drew their splinter rifles and began shooting at me. They shot withering fire at me, and I saw a stream of bolter fire towards them from Dorn behind me.
I felt pain, intense pain, and the agony of poison slashing through my veins. I had trouble seeling. I focused.
A drukhari kabalite warrior was in front of me.
Concentrate. Focus on the battle.
I chopped his head off.
I moved to the second one, but Dorn had shot him to death. I looked at the dark lance’s computer controlling it – I didn’t know how to dismantle the weapon. I reached into the possible futures.
I can see the future.
I saw the future in which I destroyed the dark lance and attacked in the exact spot that it said to hit.
The weapon exploded above us.
The kabalite warriors fell next to me. Dorn slashed one to death with his chainsword, but the other one looked at me with hate in his eyes.
He swore at me in an alien language. He drew a nasty looking dagger. I stabbed his arm with my lightning claws, but the posion was overwhelming me. I collapsed backwards and fell out of consciousness…
I woke up in a bed on Earth near New York City where I normally lived in that era. I was in a hospital, Journey’s Heart Medical Center in New York. I looked at Horus Lupercal, who sat in a seat near the bed and looked at me.
“You took some hits,” Horus said. “But you’re going to be okay. The doctors fixed everything. Patched you right up.”
“Lisila?” I asked.
“Everyone was rescued before they could be enslaved,” Horus said. “Another win against the dark eldar. I want you to go undercover next time.”
“Undercover?” I asked.
“I want to know what makes them tick,” Horus said. “Understand them. They seem so evil. I want to sympathize with them. Realize why they are doing this to us.”
“Cool,” I said. “Did Celestine and Dorn make it out okay?”
Horus nodded. “Everyone made it,” he said. “A couple people on our frigate had minor injuries but nothing serious. I just don’t know. You really don’t realize that you – and mentally ill people – are capable of amazing things? I think that you can do amazing things. I think that you should not doubt your ability to accomplish the amazing.”
“Understood,” I said.
“Never cease to think that you can make a difference in this fucked-up, magical world in which we live.”
Control: Life with Mental Illness 