Thanks, Old Man

Rain from the heavens was an auspicious sign, especially for Holy Terra, whose oceans had been dry for ten thousand years. Humanity bathed in the rain, believing that the God-Emperor had answered their prayers—and they were right.

The torrential downpour continued without pause. So did the curses echoing through the Imperial Palace. None of the Adeptus Custodes who heard them dared show their faces and risk incurring the two men's wrath—not even Valdor, a veteran of long standing.

Hogg squatted beside the Golden Throne, utterly dejected. He'd never imagined that his greatest enemy would be the Emperor himself. What had the Shadow-beast ever done to deserve this? It was just a cute little black thing. Did the Emperor really have to squeeze it? Couldn't he have just put it on a shelf as a decoration? Well, now he'd squeezed it to bits.

And it would've been bad enough if he'd just crushed it. But there'd been two to choose from—a fifty percent chance—and he'd picked the one with all the research memories. Hogg had nothing more to say. Right now, he just wanted to sit in silence.

His heart raced, his hands trembled, and his tears of despair drifted away on the wind. A column of smoke rose from the holiest place in all humanity, telling the tale of his boundless regret.

Watching his wayward son hunch over one cigarette after another, the Emperor wanted to say something to ease the mood. In the end, all he could do was pull out a Rick electronic cigarette and do his part to pollute Terra's atmosphere.

"Hogg, let's just put this behind us. We both have bright futures ahead."

"Bullshit!" Hogg tossed away his cigarette butt, grabbed the Emperor by the collar, and snapped:

"That Shadow-beast was a legacy from the Slann—my