Threesome And Voyeurism On A Public Parking

In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, where war consumes entire systems and faith is often the only armor left, there are souls who embody the Imperium’s most harrowing truths. They threw her into a cell of rot and rust, where Brother-Sergeant Caelen hung in chains. After long, hellish moments, the weight slid free. She didn’t have to. Cold. No armor. The alarms began to scream across the compound. The pain was white, all-consuming. The belt muffled it only slightly as the edges of the capsule stretched her farther than she thought possible. She didn’t have to. Her vision swam. Her hands gripped her knees. Roxy screamed. “Where?”

Her voice cracked. She didn’t have to. Vents hissed. But in a galaxy that grinds even saints to dust, her greatest act of service would come not from battle — but from surrender. “Inside. This tale does not seek comfort or triumph. No weapons. Those who served with her never forgot. Her vision swam.