Brother Hannibal had never asked for this. He had done his duty bravely- he had done his duty well. He had fought to the last, even as the swarm of Guardsmen crashed down on him like a tidal wave, a million lasguns killing him with pinpricks.
He was aware that he had not been entirely killed, as he lay there on the edge of mortality, trampled over by tens of boots. He had felt himself drifting back and forth across the veil even as strong hands seized him and began dragging him into the land-raider. And a single word floated into his mind from the world of the living: Dreadnought.
Unstoppable engine of war. Glorified servant of destruction. Dreadnought. Terror of the foe. Earth-shaking beast of battle. The warrior's last tomb. To serve until death was noble. To serve beyond was grandeur.
Hours later, days- rituals and operations had been carried out to no end. Even cutting him free from the armor- armor that had melted and fused under a barrage of las-fire -was a chore. And now, he saw the world once more, in a new light...
His voice rang harsh and mighty and hollow, a mechanical growl from beyond the grave.
"Brothers, I am upside-down."