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| - The air was cool in the Colossus XIII's Reclusiam, and Apothecary Itirus Armamon knelt infront of an image of the Emperor renderd in gold. Secretly, the Inquisition had dragged it away from the Imperial Palace and placed it here, where the greatest protectors of the 40k universe dwelled. Many thoughts coursed through his mind. The deaths of fellow brothers on his operating table. The gene-seed which he still had to send back to the chapter. The fact that he positivley had to find his nail-clipper since his toenails were growing and starting to hurt. All of these were common problems for the Apothecary. For some reason, he had been elected as an Apothecary, a decision which many felt unfit, since Armamon was a very forgetfull man. Once, he had forgotten to turn of his chainfist when he was starting to operate, slashing off a Guardsmans...private area. He had also accidentally dropped his vox-bead into the lung of a Battle Brother. Said battle brother now suffered from coughs when someone accidentaly voxed said vox bead. Now, however, he stood infront of a major task. He had to try and splice the Emperor's gene's himself to create gene-seed for the Warriors. It was a hard task, but he would succed. That much he knew. Rising from his crouch, he moved to his apothecarium to start testing on the one string of hair he had. There was much to be learned. Later "Well, Inquisitor, i can say this: The Emperor's hair could not survive a melta blast" The Inquisitor was still to stunned to believe it. Slowly, he asked the same question he had asked two times earlier "You...shot...the last straw of hair from the Emperor...with a Melta gun?" The Apothecary rubbed his neck awkwardly "It was for science." The Inquisitor's eye twitched, and the Apothecary could see he was about to burst of anger "WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE FOR USE IN SHOOTING THE LAST STRAW OF HAIR OF THE DIVINE GOD EMPEROR WITH A MELTA GUN?!?!?!" The Apothecary smiled in triumph "I have decreed, my good Inquisitor, that since the hair did not survive the blast...It was not, in fact, the Emperor's hair" The Inquisitor was stunned. Not so much by the sense it made, but by how idiotic the Apothecary was "Wu---Wa--I...Hu?" "It is simple. The Emperor, blessed be his name, could never have suffered such a fatal blow to his fabolous hair from a simple melta blast" As the Apothecary spoke, he snapped his head, making his long, fabolous brown hair flail in the light of the nearby star. "ARE YOU FOR REAL?! WHY WOULD THE GOD EMPEROR'S HAIR SURVIVE A MELTA BLAST?!?!" The Apothecary gave a high-pitched snort, before turning and walking away. Stopping half stride, he continued "You may talk with me when your simple brain has finally made sense of the proof i have offered you" The Apothecary strode through the meeting room, leaving in all his regal grace. The Inquisitor was stunned by how sure the man looked, and how calm he had seen. He understood why he was an Apothecary. He was clearly one who could remain calm in the heat of battle and be relied on to extract the holy gene-seed. He was a mighty Astartes, one who seemed capable of recieving multiple blows from an enemy as if it was nothing. The Inquisitors revering thoughts were interrupted when he heard a large "KLANG!", swiftly followed by the Apothecary. "THRONEFUCKINGDAMNITEMPERORTHATHURTSMYTOEAAAAARGHWHO MOVEDTHEBULKHEADHERERAAAAAGETMEMYAXEIAMCUTTINGTHISLITTLETOETOBITS!
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