"We have Orks, we have lots of Orks! Command, send reinforcements, we won't be able to hold this position much longer!" yelled the sarcastic Imperial Guard solider through his helmets vox ponder as the adjacent radio pack weighing down his back while several kinetic projectiles ate away at his cover within the abandoned street level bakery. He was one of three guardsmen in green combat fatigues and poorly crafted metal chest plates defending the street level slums of Hive Bengheim from the Ork invasion onslaught.

"Negative Echo 3, we have strict orders… No front-line infantry are to move into the slums until after the Ork artillery has been silenced… you are on your own…" droned the female communications operator over his vox, causing the poor communications guardsmen being shot at several miles away from command central to grind his yellow teeth with rage. The poor sod felt another nearby artillery explosion glass the streets in white mist and mortar as the resulting seismic tremor set off several nearby vehicle alarms. His quadrant of the Hive Slums had already been evacuated several hours ago in the wake of the Ork Invasion, but that was little comfort to those actually facing the military onslaught at its worst.

A thin mist of toxic rain drizzled from the heavens causing a fog of bitter acid to consume the streets and partially demolished shops. Several guardsmen adorned re-breathers to help fend off the worst side effects from the hive worlds decaying atmospheric smog as an Ork battlecry reverberated across the landscape in a droning WAAAGH… intermixed with sporadic lasfire and human screaming.

"I repeat, Echo 3, you are on your…" continued the disinterested combat removed communications officer with a hint of snidness to her sacrificial grinder fodder until a brief static discharge blurred out her voice and replaced it with a very loud man yelling at the top of his voice, "FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING BITCH! HEY! YOU THERE! GUY ON THE FUCKING RADIO! GET DOWN!"

Before the guardsman could respond to the loud profanity from this unknown voice another secondary explosion, this time from an atmospheric shockwave, heralding several large falling orbital drop pods coming in hard on his position. These pods were yellow and ornamented with several strange angry face symbols, or imperial fist logos with a standing middle fingers wreathed in profanity. Phrases such as 'Always Angry, All The Time,' 'RAGE MACHINE,' 'TOO ANGRY, TOO DIE,' and 'FUCK HORUS!' adorned their pods along with ornate graffiti of stick figures kicking Eldar pirates in the balls, or what appeared to be space marines skull fucking dead Tau soldiers.

"Who the hell…" muttered the vox operating guard soldier more to himself than anyone else as one of these pods crashed into the street with a magnificent red fireball sharding stone and asphalt from a smoking crater where an unlucky greenskin had also been splattered and was now sizzling as it cooked beneath the pods burning hot metal hull.

Another small greenskin charged the pod with a crude raised battleaxe, foam falling its vicious sharks teeth and lips, but before he could reach the metal drop coffin the door was kicked away revealing a large space marine in bright yellow armor and red trim. The little orkling had but a few brief moments to grasp the awe of his opponent before the towering behemoth kicked his charging foe with a well placed metal boot into the aliens little green fury balls, thus causing this small greenskins bones to shatter from the aliens pelvis to its ribs as a sharp electrical surge erupted from the Space Marines shin grieve sending the Orkling flying away in a puddle of green gore and broken bones.

"NO MEANS NO YOU FUCKING LEG HUMPER!" yelled the space marine as he resumed his killing with a casual spray from his unshouldered bolter firing at the hip, "COME AND GET ME YOU FUCKERS!" he laughed menacingly as he mowed down numerous greenskins until at last the alien tide managed to close the distance through shire numbers and grit. It was now that the space marine's bolter clicked empty, but he was far from done.

All the guardsmen hunkered down in the bombed out shopping venue watched in silence as the yellow giant tossed his bolter away like a useless toy. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as the lone Astartes bashed his two fists together causing a brief electrical arc between them. This was prior to him running straight at the greenskins like a crazed wild animal.

"Power Fists and Power Boots?" muttered a nearby guardsman with a hint of surprise. The vox operator did a double take at his fellow soldering guardsman hunkered down for their own safety, and the insane Astartes, before the human tank unleashed his brutal assault upon the startled alien horde.

The Orks were expecting to overrun their foe… They weren't expecting their foe to attack them head on, and the sight of this towering heavily armored human running full speed at their superior numbers with nothing but his fists for his defense caused a rather large amount of confusion… that is until his armored hand slammed the first alien fuck nugget with enough brute force to shatter the poor Orks skull and crater in its face two inches inward with green blood squeezing cartoonishly out of the creatures ears and nose like a fountain.

All the guardsmen watched as the space marines fists left knuckle marks on the face of his first victim, 'FUCK,' second punch, 'OFFF,' with the ork flying backwards sizzling from the electrical sting. Two more Orks filled in his space. The first was kicked in the groin with enough force to shatter his pelvis and still have enough kinetic movement for the boot to reach his liver, while the second ork was collared by the space marine and punched in the face, before having a live grenade dropped down its pants and being kicked back into his pack, all of whom then went up in a gory explosion of green goo and red fiery shrapnel.

"OHHH POOR MR FUCK NUGGETS! HE WILL BE FUCKING MISSED!" laughed the space marine brutalizer as the rest of his companions suddenly streamed in from the nearby ruins with each man wearing his own distinct yellow power armor with angry face insignia.

"WHAT TOOK YOU GUY FAGGOTS SO FUCKING LONG! He yelled to them with a raised power fisted middle finger dripping with green gore and sparking with blue electrical discharge.

"FUCK YOU SERGEANT! FUCKING PODS! I'M GONNA SKULL FUCK THAT FUCKING TECH PRIEST WHEN WE GET BACK!" replied one his men with a middle finger salute while skidding down some nearby rubble.

"WHICH ONE!?" yelled another yellow armored space marine to the man that had just spoken.

"FUCKING TRISHKA! FUCKING MECHANICAL WHORE FUCKER!"

"TRISHKA!? IS SHE THE ONE WITH THE HUGE RACK!?"

"FUCK YES!"

"FUCKING AWESOME!"

"I FUCKING KNOW RIGHT!?"

"WILL YOU FUCKERS SHUT THE FUCK UP! WE HAVE FUCKING WORK TO DO!"

"FUCKING HELL!" grumbled all his men.

"Pst," muttered one of the still somewhat surprised guardsmen to his radio operating XO, "Who are these guys?"

The two guardsmen looked at one another, and then collectively as a squad they all shrugged before resuming their observations of the yellow armored behemoths loudly slandering one another or flipping one another off as they casually assembled in the war torn streets filled with corpses and rubble.

"I think…" trailed one of the guardsmen," I think they're Space Marines…"

"Bullshit," whispered their XO, "Why are they so fucking angry? I thought the Emperor's Angels of Death were supposed to be… well… not this." His subordinate all shrugged while the group continued to observe the towering yellow Astartes.

These Space Marines were an odd group, no matter the swearing, with the first of these immortals that the guardsmen had seen in action being the yellow Sergeant wearing duel power fists, and what appeared to be duel powered boots, the latter of which sparking electricity at his ankles as he wondered through the rumble tattered streets. His armor was the most ornate of the group and he wore what appeared to be a necklace of Eldar Ears wrapped around his neck not to mention a poorly written message upon his chest 'FUCK YOU THAT'S WHY.'

Another of his Battle Brothers was a towering yellow armored space marine in Terminator Armor with snare mines strapped to his forearms, shines, and stomach. Upon his chest were the words, 'Point Towards Enemy,' and a giant red middle finger upon his shoulder guard. This Terminator also carried what appeared to be… a shovel, a giant metal shovel sparking electricity from its spade, a 'Power Shovel.'

There was also another group of space marines, what appeared to be regular Battle Brothers loitering off to the side, punching cars, angrily kicking dirt, or breathing heavily while starring through vacant shop windows at their unfortunately tattered or otherwise destroyed wares. One of these men wore an… Eldar skull… strapped to his crutch, and above this skull were the words, 'YA MUM!' in big red letters. Another of these Battle Brothers carried several layers of Bangalore grenades strapped around his chest in overlapping layers as well as a Vengeance Launcher across his chest which he cradled menacingly while giggling to himself.

"YOU THERE! GREEN FUCKERS! WHERE'S THAT FUCKING ORK ARTILLERY!" yelled the one called Sergeant to the guardsmen who were collectively still taking shelter within the relatively safe bombed out nearby bakery like a pack of cowering dogs.

"North of here sir… grid… 546-234-…."

"YEAH YEAH YEAH! FUCKING GREAT! WE'LL FUCKING FIGURE IT OUT FROM HERE!" said the Sergeant, cutting off the guardsmen before he could finish rambling off the coordinates, but before tapping the side of his helmet to transmit a message abroad, "OK YOU FUCKING FLYBOYS! WE GOT WORK TO DO SO GET YOUR SORRY ASSES DOWN HERE!"

"FUCKING FLYING FUCKERS ALWAYS FUCKING FLYING AROUND WHO THE FUCK DO THEY FUCKING THINK THEY FUCKING ARE…" rambled one of his men while angrily kicking a block of nearby rubble like it had somehow grievously offended him.

It was now that a solid yellow Thunderhawk fell from the sky and swooped in with its afterburners clipping the side of a nearby building causing a small cascade of brick and mortar to fall into the streets below. This armored troop transport had several additional guns mounted on its sides including two flamethrowers, a mine dropper, and an undercarriage bolted refrigerator with the poorly painted phrase, 'FUCK YOU BECAUSE I SAID SO!' written upon its white exterior doors. There was also an angry frowning face shark's grin upon its prow with additional angry slanted eyes next to the pilot's cockpit. Red middle fingers, poorly painted insult graffiti, and the aircrafts name 'Terrance' adorned its glorious yellow hull.

"WHEEEEWWWWW!" yelled its pilot through the exterior PA system, "DID YOU FUCKERS SEE THAT! I SURE FUCKED UP THAT BUILDING! HAAHAAHAA! OK BITCHES LET'S GET A MOVE ON!"

"FUCKING MAGNIFICENT YOU GLORIOUS SON OF A BITCH!" yelled the Sergeant as he and his men entered the Thunderhawk from its sidedoors thus causing a temporary loud eruption of ancient Earths music to fill the planets otherwise bleak atmosphere…

'I don't do what I've been told, You're so lame why don't you just go, Die Motherfucker Die Motherfucker Die, Die Motherfucker Die Motherfucker Die…'

Seconds later the music muffled into barely audible null silence as the yellow armored Astartes closed the doors to their VTOL troop transport, and the aircraft ascended into the sky towards the Ork artillery base.