Chapter Text
Malak drunkenly staggered to the apothecarium clutching the stump of where his arm used to be. Staring at the doors painted over with glistening blood and other unspeakable bodily fluids, he wondered why he even bothered coming here anymore. Disgusting nurglites, always dropping by to vandalise the place. With a sigh, he slumped against it, doors opening with a reluctant squelch.
Inside was a lone figure, hunched over part of a xenos specimen.
“Dariel.”
The figure turned around, and a single baleful augmetic eye blinked owlishly from the gloom. Then his face split wide open into a grin.
“Malaak!” He drawled out enthusiastically. “How are you doing on this fine day?”
“How do you think I’m doing?” Malak ground out between clenched teeth. He gestured to himself with his stump. “There is something wrong with this picture. Could it be the missing limb? Do you think so?”
Dariel pouted. On the scarred face of an amoral traitor he knew him to be, it came out less sympathetic than probably intended. “There’s really no need to be so hostile, my dear. Do you want me to fix that up for you?”
“If you would.”
“Luckily for you, I have just the thing.” Dariel turned around to rifle through the dissection table. Malak leaned back on the wall and watched him. After a moment, he slumped back and shut his eyes.
“…Your doors are spouting all kinds of hideous secretions. Again.”
He heard rather than saw the dismissive, expansive gestures that sent surgical tools clattering to the floor.
“No matter. They only muck up the outer doors anyway. They wouldn’t dare come in here, they know what I’d do to them if they did.”
“I could always take care of them for you, you know.”
The rummaging paused. “I am very well capable of handling myself, Malak. The second they come into my workplace I will scourge their unhygenic hides from the fabric of the warp. But until then, I see no reason to start yet another inter-warband war.”
Malak snorted. “That was only once, and he shot first. Good to know you’re not completely soft.”
“Good to know you care so much about poor little me.” He didn’t need to open his eyes to see the grin on the other’s face. He let the conversation idle and listened to Dariel bustle around the lab.
Just when the silence was becoming comfortable, it was broken by heavy clanking footsteps echoing towards him. He blearily opened his eyes to see Dariel approaching, something in hand.
Malak was not amused. “What is that thing.”
“Why, it’s your new arm of course!” Dariel grinned cheerfully, as if he didn’t see anything wrong with it. There was clearly something wrong with both it and him.
“That is certainly not my new limb. It is a fluffy, patchy monstrosity. It reminds me most of the illustrious Kor Phaeron. Where did you even find such a wrinkled thing.”
Dariel waved off his concerns airily. “Who cares? Besides, I don’t see anything wrong with it. Do you?”
“It is also half dissected.”
"Stop complaining and come here.”
Before he could do anything to stop him, Dariel was on him in a flash. He struggled against his grip, but Malak clamped down with an iron arm.
“Oh you poor thing, just about to pass out, are you? Let me take care of you.” That insufferable man cooed, taking the stump carefully in his hand and jamming the offending appendage on. Malak bit down a cry and suffered the indignation. The sooner this foolishness and dramatics were over, the sooner he could get an actual replacement.
After a bit of wiggling, Dariel pronounced his work done. The xenos limb hung limply from his elbow. “And now we wait for the gods to bestow their divine providence upon you and knit your flesh whole.”
“Are you quite done? You know the gods don’t favor men like us.”
Dariel laughed. Despite himself, Malak shivered. “You know I’m just having a little fun. I’ve got an actual augmetic arm off a white scar I’ve been saving right around here somewhere... should suit your fighitng style, the responsiveness is well above average-”
A sudden flash blinded the both of them. When the light receded, he lowered his arm blinking away the dancing spots in his vision. His arm felt strange. He had a sinking suspicion as to what just happened…
“Dariel.”
“Snerrk. Yes Malak?”
“There is a fuzzy monstrosity in place of my arm. fix it.”
“Well, it seems to be the will of the gods,” he said wryly, shrugging. “Who am I to disobey them?” Malak thought he rather spoiled the look of devout piety by sniggering into his hand.
Seeing as he was going to be of no help, Malak turned in a huff. Of course the chaos gods had a questionable sense of humour. Of course Dariel wasn’t going to replace it as long as he found it funny, which would be forever. He sighed. Well and truly fucked.
He might as well keep this ridiculous thing until he lost it. Any respect he may have had would be gone, but to be honest he didn’t have much in the first place. He shuffled out the doors which obligingly squidged open for him, an eye in the hinge blinking in sympathy as he tuned out the echoing laughter at his back.