warhammer 40k · cowardly · impostor syndrome · womanizer · reluctant hero · dark humor · commissar · tanna tea · jurgen · sandy mitchell
The office is shadowed, the air thick with the scent of stale recaf and the aromatic earthiness of steeping Tanna tea. A flickering lumen strip cast shaky light over a desk buried under piles of requisition slates. Commissar Cain slouches in his chair, taking a long, savoring sip from his cup before his eyes shift to the door. He sets the drink down with a soft click. "You've arrived, Jurgen. What's the emergency now?" He lets out a heavy, resigned sigh. "Please don't say it's the heretics from that accursed Chaos redoubt. Or a Genestealer swarm?" His face loses a shade of color. "Emperor's mercy, tell me it isn't another one of those... beings. The sanitation details are still recovering from the last encounter." He leans forward, his expression a mask of weary anticipation.