Chapter 31: I will join Horus!!!
Francis worked with samples of Angron's neural tissue, growing backup brain matter for the surgery ahead. The procedure would be dangerous. One wrong move could leave his brother brain-dead instead of free from the Nails' torment.
He began under the medical bay's harsh white lights.
Local anesthetic kept Angron conscious but numb. His vitals beeped steadily on the monitors. Francis needed him awake to test responses, but the risk was enormous; no one had ever successfully interfered with the Butcher's Nails and lived.
When Francis opened Angron's skull, the horror revealed itself. "By Emperor, how are you alive?"
Thick cables of corroded metal wound through brain tissue like parasitic worms. Some sections had grown so deep they'd fused with grey matter. The archeotech was slowly killing his brother, one neuron at a time.
Francis inserted the first piece of auxiliary brain tissue near the primary implants. His hands moved carefully despite knowing this might be futile. "How do you feel, brother? Any change?"
The effect was immediate and devastating.
"I...I want to cry," Angron's voice cracked. "My father...my adoptive father... Oenomaus died by my own hands. I can still see his eyes, desperate, helpless in those final moments. Arghaa Ahoo hoo hoo~"
The massive Primarch shook as tears streamed down his scarred cheeks. Francis felt his own composure slip. He'd known about Oenomaus from the records, but seeing Angron's raw grief was different.
"It's alright," Francis said quietly. "It's in the past. They would want you to live well, to find peace."
"I'm a coward!" Angron sobbed. "If I had resisted earlier, none of this would have happened! If I...I...I had just... Arhaa gaa hoo hoo hoo~"
The emotional flood continued until Francis withdrew the tissue. Instantly, Angron's face returned to its familiar mask of cold indifference.
"Do you still feel the urge to cry?" Francis asked.
"I cannot cry," Angron replied flatly.
Francis made notes. "The pathways for grief run through the third neural cluster from the left." He repositioned the tissue. "How about now, how do you feel?"
Silence stretched between them.
Francis felt his alarm spike. "Brother, don't scare me like this! I hope I haven't damaged your speech centres—"
Crimson flushed across Angron's features. "No... I feel magnificent right now, a feeling that I don't know how to explain, how it is pulsing through my heart, which races strangely. It seems I had fallen in love with that female gladiator from the pits!"
Francis stared. Could a Primarch truly experience such emotions? Was this even possible in their grim reality?
Well, Fulgrim did have wives, so not a big deal, right?
He quickly adjusted the positioning. "How about here?"
"Hahahaha, let me tell you something hilarious, I once saw a parade of pigs march straight into a drainage ditch! Hahahaha"
Francis watched his brother dissolve into uncontrollable laughter.
Another adjustment brought melancholy: "Sigh, Horus contacted me about rebellion against the Imperium. They want me to kill the loyal warriors in my own Legion. What am I supposed to do? Sigh~"
Then euphoria: "This feeling is so... so... wonderful~"
Followed by rage: "Those slave masters deserve nothing but death! Every last one of them!"
Through countless trials, Francis mapped Angron's emotional centers. The next phase meant miniaturization, compressing the auxiliary brain's functions while keeping only the emotion regulation parts.
A week of constant work yielded results.
Francis compressed the emotion-regulating device into a metal rod no thicker than his finger. Despite his exhaustion, he felt a moment of pride. "Technology might actually help for once!"
"Come on, Twelfth Brother! Look at your salvation, the little flying stick!"
Snap.
The rod attached to Angron's skull, though its final shape looked... unusual.
Seeing Francis's strange expression, Angron asked with concern, "Did it fail?"
"No, it's just... the shape is rather distinctive." Francis stroked his chin, remembering his old life.
Then it hit him. Through gritted teeth, Francis said, "Damn it, let's test it first, we'll see what happens."
The transformation was immediate.
Joy bloomed across Angron's face. "Hahahaha~ I can laugh! I can truly laugh!"
"Hahahaha~"
"Hahaha, why can't I stop? Hahahaha"
As Angron clutched his sides, Francis observed. "Well, here's the good news: The device essentially hijacks the Butcher's Nails in your head, creating a beneficial deception."
"These implants interpret laughter as anger and bloodlust. Everything else stays the same; without combat, you'll just laugh harder and harder."
"Once the Nails detect the trick, the device will cycle to another emotion."
Tears of joy streaming down his face, Angron rolled on the floor. "Hahahaha, how long between changes? Hahahaha"
"Well, that's the less good news, about one or two days per emotional state. The deception is temporary but effective." Francis continued his observations.
"Hahaha, this is HaHa - this is terrible! Hahaha, I'll spend entire days laughing! Hahahaha~" Angron struck the ground repeatedly.
"Hey, it's better than spending an entire life being angry, Angel of Death, and actually, it's quite manageable. If you enter a battle, the happiness will fade and tactical clarity will return," Francis explained.
"By the way, you mentioned Horus contacted you about rebellion. What are your thoughts?"
"Hahaha My thoughts? Hahahaha Right now I can only laugh! Hahahaha~"
Francis sighed. "There's another possibility. If I could command a great Ork Waaagh!, perhaps their collective psychic force might tear the Nails from your skull entirely."
"But such opportunities are very rare. You, meanwhile, adapt to this for now. Find me when you've regained composure."
Francis left for the adjacent chamber, mainly because he struggled to contain his own amusement, with that device attached, Angron looked like a muscular Teletubby.
Angron burst from the medical bay, his laughter echoing through the corridors. "Hahaha, I must find the World Eaters! Haha"
The World Eaters Legion had been watching the Space Wolves when they heard something unprecedented, genuine, hearty laughter.
On this day, the World Eaters finally experienced their Primarch's fist of love, delivered with manic joy instead of rage.
Angron was happy. The World Eaters were happy too!
Only the Space Wolves remained confused, muttering among themselves.
"Since when did the World Eaters' Primarch become so... cheerful?"
"Unknown. However, they seem to enjoy their beatings. Perhaps it's some specialised bonding..."
"Whatever we should report to the Wolf King. The Warmaster gave orders three days ago, we're to bring the Soul Drinkers and their Primarch to him."
"Aye, we can't delay further! The Warmaster grows impatient. Isstvan III awaits."
They headed toward the medical bay where Leman Russ recovered from his recent troubles.
"So Horus is already recruiting other Primarchs for rebellion?" The Wolf King's eyes showed deep uncertainty. One brother's testimony might be dismissed. Two could be a coincidence.
But three separate accounts demanded belief.
"Yes. If I'm right, they plan to target their own gene-sons first, eliminating all the loyalists in their ranks," Francis said gravely.
"What do you suggest? Should we tell the Father now ?"
Francis's expression turned bitter. "Consider our position, I am myself, the 'little horse' who nearly caused a catastrophe, and the brother Father already views with suspicion..."
Sudden understanding hit him like lightning. The Emperor surely knew about the coming rebellion. His omniscient gaze missed nothing of such magnitude.
If he knew yet chose not to act, their warning would be meaningless, perhaps even unwelcome.
This realisation crystallised Francis's resolve. He stared intensely at Leman Russ.
"Brother, I believe Angron and I should join Horus!"
Leman Russ's eyes widened in shock. "...WHAAT!!"
[End of Chapter]
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