Yes, these Kommandoes are very Commando-ish. However, they are an extreme case. And Kommandoes are only Commandoes up to a point.
Anyway, enough said. I won't waste any time.
The noise was immense as the green horde rushed through the hole where the gates had once stood and into the compound's vulnerable innards. The boys shouted and whooped with glee as they tore their way inside roughly constructed buildings and cut apart the humies nestled within; those armed with shootas let rip with a thunderous torrent of large calibre shells the power of which was enough to tear down one of the weaker buildings, crushing and trapping those too slow to leave; though even those that had managed to escape were quickly minced by the shoota boys as they sprayed bullets every which way, aiming was secondary to making a lot of noise.
The humies were far too slow, taken utterly by surprise (and many unarmed or undressed) they were easy prey for the kommando's choppas and many were cut down in the first seconds; the orks revelling in the thrill of combat as they brought death to their favourite enemy, the waaagh energy put out would be felt by any other greenskins for miles around.
Nozgub found himself in the middle of this mayhem of war and death with no recollection as to how he had got there, he slipped back behind one of the buildings that was still standing as a burst of glowing red fire shot past, aimed towards the big ork who had guided him here. The ork stumbled as all three shots hit him, but quickly regained his composure and charged forwards, screaming at the top of his lungs and waving a sword like choppa which had blades at both ends. The next scream was undeniably that of the humie as the ork's strange weapon claimed another victim.
He breathed hard; he was a mek, fighting wasn't his job, building was. The other orks were turned into frothing, half-crazed beasts by the thrill of battle; something that was hardly believable considering their calm and skilful approach to the ooman's camp; but Nozgub didn't react in the same way, this battle didn't give him that same thrill as the dogfight in his fighta bommer had, being down here on the ground where everyone ran on foot just wasn't the same. It all seemed too slow.
Another burst of fire smashed into the wall beside him, knocking dusty chunks from it. Nozgub returned fire, poking his slugga around the corner and firing half a dozen rounds randomly, not caring if or what they hit. The humies were beginning to get organised now, overcoming their initial surprise they had started to band together into mobs, but anyone could tell that it was too late, half of the base had already been eradicated, puddles of blood and corpses littering the floor and several buildings issuing great columns of smoke into the air as they burned out of control.
He decided that he had to move. If he wanted to claim enough scrap to rebuild his fighta bommer he would have to be seen to be in the fighting. He let the empty magazine drop from his slugga and slapped in a fresh one; he didn't know how many rounds his trusted gun actually held but he knew exactly when it was empty. It was something that only mekboys were skilled in, other orks only noticed when their weapons stopped making noises so they simply referred to it as Mek's Know-wotz. Though most orks (Nozgub included) couldn't care less.
He drew one of his few remaining stikkbomms in his other hand and broke from cover. Careful to stay away from the thickest fighting he aimed for an area where a building had just started burning. That would be his best bet, somewhere to kill some humies and claim some scrap, and in the next fight he could be once again flying at high speeds and hearing the beating of his big shootas as they unloaded death into the enemy… whoever that might be.
[*]
It was so beautiful… The flames cast light all around them as they surged upwards, a ravenous beast feeding on the flammable structure and roaring in delight at what it had found. A full range of reds and oranges danced before him as the building was engulfed in the fire, the screams of those inside joining with the noise of the burning into a breathtaking melody that made his heart race.
It was pure joy… The smell of burning fuel and scorched flesh filled his nostrils with such a sweet aroma that he could do nothing more than breathe it in deep. And he had caused it. This was his doing. Unleashing the raging beast upon the humans felt so good and filled him with a deep satisfaction that few things in life could match.
Hefting his tool of destruction, he pointed it towards another building and unleashed another gout of flame, another stream of burning liquid burst forth from its nozzle and poured through the window, turning yet more humans into incandescent torches as they ran to seek something that would douse the flames. Many were lucky and ran straight into the oncoming bullets from the shoota boys, being torn to shreds in an instant; but the unlucky ones were forced to wait as their skin burned and they were sent, slowly, into the arms of whatever waited for them on the other side.
He cackled as he watched the mayhem that he had caused unfold, his voice loud even amongst the sounds of war that echoed all around them. He didn't care for what happened to the enemy, he didn't care for suffering or pain. All he wanted was to squeeze the trigger and let forth the burning beast once more, to set this whole place into one raging inferno.
So he laughed; unaware of the black shadow that stood behind him, unaware of the harsh click as a heavy round was drawn into a firing chamber, unaware of the cruel stifled laughter from that black figure as it plotted his death. To an ork, a real ork, death is just the path to an even better fight.
[*]
Nozgub heard the cackling laughter from the ork ahead. He saw the swish of a black cloak as a humie stepped out of nowhere. He watched the humie cock his weapon and raise it to the back of the ork's head, a large calibre pistol that was about to spray the contents of that ork's head into the air like a fountain… and he acted.
He ran forwards, straight towards his target in the same way that he had seen many a greenskin do before him, firing his slugga repeatedly and revelling in the solid kick that it reported back with after each pull of the trigger. The shots were wild however, and only succeeded in alerting the humie to the presence of a new threat.
Quick as a squig out of a cannon the humie turned to face him, ignoring his previous target completely and raising his own pistol against Nozgub. With no time to reload the mek resorted to the only other thing he could think of and hurled the stikkbomm with all of his might straight at the surprised 'ooman.
The stikkbomm sailed through the air, spinning in a graceful arc before colliding with the human's head. The heavy metal explosive head of the stikkbomm smashed straight into the soft and bony face with a sickening crunch, and bright red blood sprayed out in all directions.
The human fell with the stikkbomm, his body becoming limp after the tremendous impact. Though enough life remained for his finger to pull the trigger, the shots went harmlessly up into the air, becoming bright traces of light like rockets shooting for the heavens.
Nozgub too hit the dirt. He dove to the floor and covered his head, expecting at any moment to hear the stikkbomm's low bang, feel the ground tremor beneath his chin and hear the red hot shards of metal whistle past his ear as they scythed through the air. But nothing came.
"Hey! Is you stupid or somefink?" Nozgub looked up to see the ork he had saved standing above the fresh human corpse, holding a stikkbomm in an outstretched hand… his stikkbomm. "Don't you know that you is supposed to pull da pin BEFORE ya throws it?" The ork shouted above the battle, his voice higher than one would expect for one of his size.
Nozgub got to his feet and reloaded his slugga, saying nothing. The ork who stood before him wasn't actually that much bigger than Nozgub. He wore the same camouflage as the rest of his tribe, but he had a thick pair of goggles over his eyes and a metal welding mask strapped to his head, flipped upwards to allow greater visibility in battle. Though these were only small details as the real telling factor of this ork's passions was his weapon, a rusty flamethrower which most orks knew better as a 'burna' from which fuel lines fed to the large tanks upon his back. It was no wonder that he had seemed like such a huge ork from a distance, the tanks were fatter than a boar and probably weighed as much, and they were covered in the same mix of greens and browns as the tribe's uniform.
"Dis is yours." The burna boy said; throwing the stikkbomm down at Nozgub's feet, before indicating the human's corpse. "But 'e is mine."
"I killed dat humie!" Nozgub protested; he had to make sure that he got at least some of the glory, and he wasn't going to let this burna boy stop him. He snatched up the stikkbomm and placed his finger into the ring that would pull out the pin. There was no way that this burna boy would stop him.
"Alright, alright. Calm down." The ork said, his attitude and voice changing completely. "You can 'ave 'im. I don't wanna waste fuel on da likes of you, not when dere's 'umies to burn." His eyes lit up at the mention of burning things, glowing a bright red in the night; though it may just have been the fires reflecting in his goggles, it gave the ork a fearsome, unstable look.
Nozgub dropped the stikkbomm back into his bag and walked over to the humie, getting uncomfortably close to the burna boy who was probably about as stable as the flammable concoction that filled his weapon. The human wore almost all black; it was easy to see how he had gotten around behind them undetected, wearing a long black coat and hat. The humie's face had been so badly mangled that it wasn't worth taking his head, the skull would be useless, but Nozgub's eyes fixated on the jet black, peaked cap that he wore. He reckoned it would fit nicely.
He took the cap and jammed it on his own head. It was a bit snug and he didn't understand the insignia upon it, but it would do as a trophy nonetheless.
"Hey, is youse a mek?" The burna boy asked; a note of genuine query in his voice.
"Yeah, how does you know?" Nozgub responded defensively, he hated being asked the same thing over and over and over…
"You smells like one. But dat don't matter. Da fing is, can you make me a new burna? And some burny stuff ta put in it?"
His instinctive response was to tell the ork exactly where he could stick his burna if he didn't show some teeth… But he held it back, this was a chance for business and maybe they could both profit from it. Well, Nozgub would benefit most, but that was usual as very few greenskins were shrewd businessmen.
"Tell youse what." He began, trying to put the right spin on it. "I'll build you a burna if you'll use it ta help me wiv some buildin' stuff… an' if you keeps helpin' den I'll get ya all da burny stuff ya wants. Deal?"
The ork considered this for a long time, frowning as he put all of his brainpower and concentration into something that didn't involve setting fire to things. But eventually he agreed.
"Good choice." Nozgub said; even though it was the only choice really. "I is Nozgub, by da way."
"Grogit Deffburna." He responded. "Now, if dat's all. I 'as got some fings to do."
And with that, Grogit left, running off back into the fray. It wasn't long before Nozgub heard the screech of the burna as it found yet more victims and the cackling laughter of Grogit, which this time was accompanied by shouts of "BURN, HUMIE, BURN!"
I realised when I was writing this that there was no way I was going to fit all of this battle into a single chapter, no matter how much I tried, and this seemed like a good place to end. However, I'm going to try my best to do as much writing as possible, but I've got a lot going on at the moment so I'm making no promises.
Anyway, join us next time for Chapter 8 in which we shall see part two of the battle along with some much loved (and much feared) crazy orky Kultur.
