Sorry if this is in the wrong place - I couldn't see a better place for it.
Just a little story I wrote. Feedback appreciated

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VECT'S GAME


“Ah, Mr Captain. You’re awake. How wonderful.”

The Dark Eldar loomed over the bound Ultramarine Captain. Stripped of his armour, the soldier was tied to a metallic chair in the centre of a medium sized room. The only other piece of furniture was a metal table towards the edge of the room. There was only one door. All the walls seemed to be mirrored, but immediately the captain knew they were made of one-way glass. The ceiling was full of cameras and video devices. He was being watched.

“My name…” the black-clad xenos continued, “Is Vect. You may have heard of me. I want you to help me, with a little game I like to play. My friends and I. We call it…surrender. We will try to make you… surrender. To give up. To admit that you have lost. And you, you must stay strong. And when you surrender, we will give you a clean death. We will even send your body and armour back to the ultramarines, with a full video recording of how brave and strong you were. Do you understand?”

The marine tried to spit at the xenos, but his restraints affected his aim, and the phlegm went wide.

“Very good. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. I’ll send your first visitor in. He’ll have one hour with you. Have fun.”

As he walked towards the door, he hesitated for a moment, before pointing his hand up towards a camera installed on the ceiling. “Don’t forget to smile now Mr Captain, this is for posterity”.

The first man with thuggish, and simple. He was clearly still eldar, but with more muscles than the captain had ever seen on the foul, cat-like xenos. He spoke only one language. Pain. It was blunt pain. There was no finesse or beauty to it. But it was loud, and it was strong. The agony was intense, yet the marine held. A simple buzzer sounded, and the torturer left, taking his tools with him.

The second was not a man, but a woman. Or at least, a female eldar. She brought with her two slaves – a human man and a human woman. All three were barely clothed. At her command the slaves, and the mistress herself, inflicted every sensory pleasure upon the marine. They blurred the lines between pleasure and pain, and did things to him that could make a servant of Slaanesh salivate. But the captain’s resolve did not break. Her hour was up, and she cursed and kicked her slaves as they crawled on their hands and knees out of the room.

The third torturer brought in a machine of unbearable evil. It was a glass cylinder, large enough for a man to stand in. The top was fixed with spikes. They slowly moved down the inside of the container until they reached the bottom. Once the torturer had demonstrated the evil device, he left the room. The ultramarine tried to look away from the wretched machine, but his straps prevented him. His tormentor returned a minute later, with a small human girl. She was no more than 7 or 8. His eyes shed tears but his mouth never uttered a single noise. Not even after the pool of her blood started to lap against his feet. Not even as his tormentor left the room for a second child. And a third. He spoke no words. He gave them no satisfaction.

Another thuggish xenos entered the room, this time pushing a heavy trolley. Instantly the captain knew what was on it. Other marines. Dead marines. Three other soldiers from the squad he had been with. Two of them had just been standard tacticals, but the third was their sergeant, his lifelong friend. The thuggish alien just left them in front of the captain. The blood pooled on the floor and a rotting smell was already starting to fill the room. After about twenty minutes without any response, his torturer started playing with the bodies in front of the captain. He made the corpses sing, forcing their mouths open and closed. He made them dance to his strange eldar songs, like a child might play with puppets. Finally, he re-enacted the famous battle between Fulgrim and Ferus Manus. As the severed head rolled to the floor, the buzzer sounded, and the gruff xenos pushed his macabre theatre away.

Next came a human. He was old and grey, but walked with a purpose, putting a leather tool-case onto the table, and removing the instruments of torture one by one – showing each in turn to the space marine. Explaining their many uses. Then he started. If the first torturer spoke in pain, this man sung a symphony of it. He was a conductor, and each stroke of a knife or stab of a blade made a note of pain that created a song of agony in his mind. Yet, somehow, against all the odds, the marine would not crack.

A Chaos Space Marine walked in next. He was Alpha Legion, his emblem of the hydra glinting in the cold light of the room. He brought a chair in, and sat next to the bound captain. And for an hour, he spoke calmly to the captive marine. He told him that he was really a double agent. He had been working for the Alpha Legion all this time. He told the captain things only the captain could know. He told the captain his own security passwords. His daily diary and record book were read out. Every little secret the captain kept was revealed to the world, but still the stolid man sat in his shackles and his silence.

There seemed to be a gap before the next entrant came in. Another Dark Eldar. This was one of their Huemonculi. Their sadistic culture’s doctors and torturers and scientists and philosophers all rolled into one. He had a shard of a large mirror, tied to strange machines. The shard reflected for him, and the reflection started changing as the Huemonculi twiddled the dials on the machine.

“This mirror is more of a window.” He said calmly to the tied up space marine. “It can show us people and places in other realities or times. Every large historical event creates ripples, and these ripples can be used to see other versions of history.” The xenos stopped and paused for a moment, as if lost in thought. “We’ve got time for three different realities, if we go quickly.”

He turned some knobs and dials on the machine.
“This is the universe, if it had been Guilliman, not Horus, who fell to chaos.” The captain could not stop himself gaze into the mirror’s glistening screen. There was darkness in the shard. It showed him whole star systems burnt out by the forces of chaos. He saw holes in the fabric of reality, from which daemons flowed freely into real space. He saw that it as Guilliman, not The Emperor, who sat on the golden throne.
“You see, Guilliman was a much better leader than Horus ever was. He united 13 of the legions to chaos, and the remaining 5 didn’t stand a chance. From his rule, the universe fell to chaos. Macragge was destroyed. He sacrificed every man, woman and child to the chaotic four, and then blew up the planet in a sacrifice that brought a second eye of terror into the real world. Guilliman was chaos’s greatest servant.

The mirror shard turned opaque, then returned to being a normal mirror.

The captain shook his head as best he could, in denial of the vision showed before him.

Again the evil Huemonculi turned dials and the mirror changed to a galaxy without life.
“We’re back in our own timeline again, but we’ve gone to the future, the 42nd millennium. Tell me, how many of your friends and brothers have fought and died to fight the Tyranid race back into the void? Actually, it doesn’t matter. Because they died in vain. All of them. The tyranids win. They strip all life from this galaxy, and then move onto the next. Only those hiding in the webway and the daemons of the warp did not get eaten by their all-consuming hunger. Even a last, great alliance between the Orks, the Imperium and seventeen craftworlds could not turn back their tide. Every death against the tyranids was a pointless waste.”

Once again, the mirror shifted back to normal.

“Time for one more short visit. Another alternative. I know the perfect spot. A reality where a different primarch became Warmaster, and there was no great heresy. ”

This time, as the mirror’s surface changed, a face peered out of it. It was a human child. A boy, no older that 11.
“Hello boy” said the grizzled xenos to the mirror shard.
“Hello” replied the boy nervously. “Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. We just want to ask you some questions. Please tell us honestly what you have learned in your lessons at school. First, where are you now?”
“Macragge sir. The 2nd city”

Thank you. Now, please, where is there fighting? Where are the marines and soldiers at war?”
“Fighting? You’re a silly! There hasn’t been any fighting for thousands of years! Not since the end of the great campaign. The Warmaster took the entire galaxy in the name of the Emperor.”
“Really?” queried the torturer. “What about chaos? Where are the daemons?”
“What is chaos? What are daemons?” replied the child’s innocents.
“What about aliens? Do Orks and Kroot and Carnifexes give you nightmares?”

The boy shivered in fear. “Yes. Ever since I saw them at the zoo. But it’s OK really. I know they don’t live outside zoos anymore. The Warmaster made the tyranids….extanct? Explanlt? EXTINCT! That’s the word! We learnt it in school last month. The Warmaster made the tyranids and the Orks Extinct.”

“Thank you, my boy. You’ve been very helpful. One last question, if you please. What is the name of the Warmaster? His full name?”

“That’s an easy question! Warmaster Konrad Curze, Emperor’s chosen, saviour of humanity!”

As the mirror turned back to normal, the Ultramarine Captain started to laugh. It was a deep, soulful laugh. The laugh of a broken man. The game was over.