Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH here.
Now its been awhile since I updated this.
The reason is I want to finish up my other fic, Kriegcraft (which is almost done anyways)
Once I finish that, then I would be more then happy to work on Mean and Green.
For now, I'll be able to put out short updates like this, but dont expect anything meaty until maybe like mid july or august.
Anyways, enjoy.
It had been three weeks since Unkle had attacked the second STAR labs in Metropolis. His current whereabouts were unknown. Well, he knew where he was at least, and it wasn't in any good position.
Currently, he was swearing to himself, as he was trying to land a plane,
"Zog zog zog zog!" he shouted to himself, as he began to flip all of the switches, and push all of the buttons, to try and prevent the plane from crashing, after the engine spontaneously combusted. Sure, it could have been the modifications he added, but he was sure that it wasn't. However, Unkle was a very happy ork. For in his pocket was a USB stick, filled with valuable data. Extremely valuable data, thanks to a CADMUS facility he had sneaked into.
He stopped focusing on what was in his pockets, and into landing this damn thing. He grabbed the throttle of the plane, and yanked it upwards as much as possible. He let out a scream, as he continued to try and pull it upwards to prevent the crash, which at this point was unavoidable. The sheer strength involved was absurd. Because of the strength Unkle was putting into pulling the control wheel upward, it allowed the control wheel to be ripped straight out of the console. It let out a couple of sparks from the ruined wires, before it stopped. Unkle blinked. That was unexpected. He looked the throttle in his hands for a few moments, before he threw it down, and spat on it.
"ZOG!" He shouted, as he unbuckled himself from the pilot's seat, and stood up as best as he could, though the angle and trajectory certainly didn't help. Unkle rubbed his head, slipping on a pair of goggles, smacking them on his eyes. As the plane was spiralling down, he ran over to the side of the cockpit, and ripped out a parachute from a heavy metal case. He strapped it to his back, and slipped on a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses. He looked out the cockpit window. They were getting close to the ground. Unkle sighed, and yanked open the emergency door. A massive gust of wind hit him, as he chanted to himself, and jumped out the plane.
The air smashed into him, as he reached for the cord of the parachute. His finger went through the metal ring, and yanked it. The parachute opened, making the ork jerk upwards. As it was designed, he began to slow down. He grabbed onto his hat, and held it tight, as the plane crashed into the woody forest, destroying hundreds of trees and probably killing hundred of animals. A blazing inferno ignited from the crash, one that slowly began to consume the forest he had crashed into. Unkle glanced at the wildfire for a few moments, before he took out a camera, and took a quick picture of it.
"Eh. I give dat a foive." Unkle snorted, unimpressed at his own crash landing. He really could have done that better than that. He looked down. He was still hundreds of feet above the ground, and he was starting to get bored.
"Hm. Now how do I get down from here…" he grumbled. He didn't have too much time to think through, before a bird flew right into his parachute.
"Oi! Scram ya flying rat!" Unkle shouted, as he tried to swat the bird out of his parachute. It flopped around in a frenzy, ripping and tearing holes in the fabric. It managed to escape out of the parachute.
"Dats roight! Gettoutahere!" Unkle shouted, shaking his fist at the retreating bird. He paused, looking up. His parachute was completely ruined, so bad that one of the strings became undone, and fluttered away down to the ground. He gulped, and slowly looked down. He was still, a few hundred feet down to the ground. He looked up, and pulled a sign out from his coat. It said one word. Help.
Suddenly he started to plummet down to the ground, screaming. As he was freefalling, he reached into his coat, and started to pull things out, anything to save him from falling. A bowling ball, a DVD player, two pounds of poptarts, a brick, two plastic spoons, and a Samsung Galaxy all were thrown out, as Unkle desperately looked for something to save his skin. Finally, he yanked out that portal gun. He had put some modifications into the stolen humie tech (Including a knife that was glued to the barrel itself, and giving it a nice coat of red) as to improve its capabilities. He fired it at the ground, but failed miserably in the task, as he landed right into a large stream of water.
A rather painful smack followed, as the sound of a belly flop worth legend echoed like a cannon, followed by a pitiful scream of pain. A few minutes passed, before the greenskin finally clawed his way out of the river, and puked his lunch of complimentary peanuts all over the ground. He shook himself clean of water, as he reached into his coat, pulling out a tellyporta pad. He chucked it to the ground, and then gave it a solid kick.
Unkle glanced back at the flaming airplane, which was now causing a massive wildfire. Unkle pondered if he should do anything, but he shrugged. No Smoky was around to stop him.
The tellyporta pad let out a bright spark of energy, as Nibbla suddenly appeared. The Hive Tyrant let out a hiss, as it moodily stomped out. Unkle glanced up at the Hive Tyrant and frowned, noticing that somehow, a Bucket Hat had ended up impaled on the Hive Tyrants horn.
"Where da hell did ya get dat?" Unkle asked. Nibbla let out a hiss. The ork sighed, scratching his head.
"Ya know wot? I dun wanna ask." He grumbled. He glanced back at the massive fire. Nibbla let out a grumble, as it stomped around for a few moments.
"Woddya mean, da humies moight notice da massive forest foire? Course dey wont!" Unkle hooted in laughter. Nibbla let out another growl. Unkle took his argument in consideration, looking at the large smoke stack.
"Hm. Yoo might be roight." He grumbled. He scratched his head again, before he chuckled.
"Eh, woteva. Leave da foire fighters ta do dere dirty wurk." Unkle grumbled. He took out a notebook from his coat, and a pen. He opened up the notebook, and looked at the first page, labeled "Supa Evil Plan :3". He considered it super evil, due to the poorly driven skulls and shootas on the sides.
He crossed out Step One. Land In Aussie. Now he was going to do step two. Found a base of operations.
That should be easy. He had landed on a small island, off the southeastern coast of Australia. It was secluded and isolated, so it shouldn't be hard to find somewhere secluded and isolated, just the way he would like it.
He glanced at the USB stick in his pocket, and grinned to himself. He never was a dok, but oh boy, this was going to be fun.
/
"Woddya mean Nibbla, dat dis is NOT safe?" Unkle shouted, as he spat in his hands, rubbing the saliva together between his palms. Nibbla let out a grumble, as he continued to chow down on a group of now dead tourists.
"Well of course dis needs explosives! All of da best villains need a secret lair Nibbla!" He proclaimed, as he stopped rubbing his hands, and quickly adjusted his peaked hat, making sure he didn't get burned from the brutal sun. Damn, it hurt. When he was done, perhaps he would invest in some sunscreen.
"Now hurry up wiff yer meal already." Unkle demanded. Nibbla hissed, as the hive tyrant spewed out a massive river of bioacid all over their dead bodies, quickly beginning to dissolve them into nothing but slimy biomass, in which the tyranid began to lap it up. Unkle sighed, as he glanced back at the massive cliff face he was about to demolish.
"Let's see…" He said, as he glanced to his side, and bent over, grabbing a piece of C4.
"One explosive." He said, shoving it onto the rock face. He bent over, and grabbed another.
"Two explosive." He said, shoving another piece of C4 onto the cliff. Nibbla let out another hiss.
"Yea, it could be easier ta just, foind a cave, but where's da fun in dat Nibs? Da answer? Nun! I aint a quitta!" He shouted, as he paused. He grinned slightly, as he went back to the pile.
"Ten explosive." He added on, as he grabbed as much explosive supplies as he could, and shoved it onto the cliff face.
"Ya know wot?" He said, as he went back to the pile, and grabbed every piece of explosive equipment he could get his grubby paws on, before he shoved it onto the cliff face. When he was done, a whole four by four foot square of the rock face was now covered with C4, TNT, and other explosives, all wired to one detonator. A detonator that he conveniently had in his coat. He pulled out a detonator from his pocket, as he began to take several yards worth of steps away from the cliff, and giggled.
"Zog it! Use ALL of da explosives!" He grinned wildly, as he pushed the trigger.
A deafening boom echoed throughout the entire area, as the entire cliff shook and rumbled, causing a complete landslide.
Unkle covered his eyes, as the entire cliff collapsed and crumbled. The resulting explosion made almost as much noise as the damn plane crash, and his ears were ringing for a good solid minute. Once he was sure it was done, it was then when he turned around. He slowly uncovered his eyes and then squealed in delight.
"HA! See Nibbla? I told ya, wot did I tell ya? Dere we go! Perfect habitabul cave! Perfect for our operations, heh heh!" He grinned, showing off the impressive mouth of the cave, which lead to an impressive system of underground tunnels and routes.
Nibbla let out a surprised hiss, before it quickly slurped up the last bits of biomass on the ground.
"See Nibbla, That's why ya don't underestimate an ork. Cuz I always get wot I want." He said, before he started laughing insanely. He paused, rubbing his hands together.
"First, weze gunna establish ourselves. Gotta let da wurld know wot dere dealin wiff." He grumbled. He then paused, glancing around. He smirked.
"Nibbla. Pass me moi axe. Time ta do sum woodcuttin."
/
Two weeks later…
/
Unkle was back in the good old US of A. There was a reason to it, and the reason was simple. He wanted to have some fun. Naturally, this involved suffering, death, a glass of lemonade, and about fifty pounds of explosives, bullets, and any guns he could get his filthy grubby paws on. That phase was over though. Now it was just getting the hell away.
Unkle whistled to himself, as he madly steered a stolen car down the highway, on the getaway from ten police cars and several choppers. Nibbla was meanwhile still back in Australia, helping him forward his plans. A distraction, for the real deal.
Unkle put one foot on the steering wheel, taking out a cigar and lighting it. He shoved the fungus cigar into his maw, and took a deep breath. The filthy smoke of burned fungus and squig meat flowed into his lungs, and he blew it out, coughing slightly. He then glanced at the dead body of the driver in the back. Unkle grabbed it, and pulled it up to the front seat, shoving him into it.
"Droive fer me buddy, kay?" He asked. He got no response. Unkle giggled to himself, rubbing the bullet hole in the front of its head. He opened the roof of the car, it being a convertible and all. He peeked up to the cop cars, and shouted.
"Oi! Coppas! Suck moi green fat arse!" He shouted, laughing maniacally, as he pulled out a minigun from his coat. He wrapped the belt of 9mm bullets around his chest, as he pulled the trigger. A golden stream of bullets erupted from the cylinders in the gun, letting out a torrent of pure dakka.
"Dakka dakka dakka!" He shouted, as he wildly swung the thing round and about, covering the entire highway with bullets. Most of them either missed, or pinged into non essential areas of the car. A few of them were lucky. Some landed right into the tires of a police car, ripping the rubber frame to shreds. It let out a screech, molten hot sparks flying everywhere, as the car crashed right into another. The two cars were then driven right into a passing gas truck. The result was a massive explosion that rocked Unkles stolen car back and forth, the ork smiled at his work. He then glanced down at the driver, and moved the steering wheel slightly to prevent him from smashing into the sides.
"Bootiful Unkle. Just bootiful." He said, wiping a tear from his eye, before he went back to mindlessly shooting the chasing cars. A spotlight was cast upon him, and in this darkness, it was blinding. The ork hissed, covering his eyes, before he looked up. A deffkotpa. Huh. Ok.
The ork shrugged, as he threw the now spent minigun away, as he reached into his coat for an appropriate weapon. He then pulled out a large rifle like weapon. It looked like a fusion of junk metal and what appeared to be a sniper, though it was anything but.
The miniature Beamy Deffgun fit itself firmly onto Unkle shoulder, as he pointed the thing right at the chopper overhead. He pulled the trigger.
A golden lance of both warp and plasma energy was released from the miniature plasma generator inside, the recoil so powerful it made Unkle slam right back into the passenger seat. The lance of plasma struck the cockpit of the Helicopter, instantly melting almost half of it. Unkle could barely make out the screams of the victims inside, as the molten metal poured onto their skin, horribly burning them as the metal dripped on their flesh. The helicopter swung wildly, as the controls had literally been lost. It smashed into the highway, blocking the highway. Specifically, the route in which the rest of the law enforcement had been using.
Unkle laughed to himself, glancing back, before his jaw fell slightly ajaw.
"Oh… zog." He mumbled, before the car slammed right into a man with a red and blue costume. Unkle was sent flying out of the car, and skidded ass first on the road, leaving a red smear where he went. He then face first slammed into a barrier, knocking out a few teeth.
"Ow." He moaned weakly. The man in red and blue glanced at him with a rather angry look, as he slowly floated down towards him. It was Superman, the man of steel. Unkle grinned slightly. He came prepared for this.
He took out a special grenade from his coat, and pulled the pin, before he lightly lobbed it. Unkle covered his eyes and mouth, as he got up and ran. The grenade exploded behind him, a thick green cloud erupting from the thing. He hopped over the barrier of the highway, sliding down a grassy hill. Looks like he got away.
He then slid right into a group of cops, who were waiting for him. The ork was about to pull out a gun, when it suddenly disappeared from his hand. Unkle glanced down, his eye twitching slightly. He then pulled out another one. It too, disappeared. He snarled in anger, as he continued to pull gun after gun from his coat. This was a procedure that lasted for approximately twenty seconds, before a fist got him right in his gut. Normally, that wouldn't hurt. But the sheer speed that was put in it nearly made him puke. It took a lot to knock an ork down, something that happened when he got another velocity speed fist right in his jaw. As he fell down, he remembered now. The Flash. Welp. Shit.
/
Rojo was sitting in a bean bag couch, casually watching TV. How better the Imperium could be if they had stuff like this. Of course, he couldn't understand a single thing that was being presented to him, but he liked to imagine he could.
His trusty flamer was lying in his lap. Its name was The Final Ember. He didn't pick the name, but when he visited his son after his augmentation from mortal into Astartes, that was the name he suggested. He missed him.
Rojo stopped thinking about him, as he switched the channel. He was done with watching the news. Instead of some random woman talking in an intelligible tongue, he was now watching what appeared to be an animated show. Rojo raised an eyebrow, as he adjusted his power armor. An odd cast of characters appeared on the screen, along with strange music. This did not sound like cathedral music, not at all. Instead it sounded like a gutted necron. Indignatio would know. Speaking of which, where was he?
The angry marine walked into the room, pouring a bag of… something into his mouth grille, when he paused completely.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU WATCH THIS WEEABOO SHIT UNDER MY FUCKING ROOF?!" Indignatio screamed in anger, as he stomped forward, throwing the bag down to the ground, revealing multi colored pellets that scattered on the dirty floor.
"I don't think I understand." Rojo said, glancing back at the show. Ooh, things were getting interesting.
Indignatio let out a unholy roar of anger, as he ran over to the side of the room, picking up a ventilation unit, and throwing it at the television. The result effect was obvious, with the entire thing breaking apart.
"Why did you do that?" Rojo asked calmly. Indignatio whipped around, the Deathwatch marine having a thick frothy foam erupting from his grill, one that openly dripped on the ground, splattering the ground.
"LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE ASSMUNCHER. NONE OF YA FUCKS ARE WATCHING THIS WEEABOO, ANIME SHITFEST WHEN I'M ON THE SAME FUCKIN PLANET AS YOU, YOU UNDERSTAND ME CUNTNUGGET?!" Indignatio roared, pointing a finger right at him.
"Fine then. Let's go out for a light." Rojo merely said. Indignatio paused, before he tackled the Salamander, and began to try and strangle him. Despite Indignatio's unmatched anger, Rojo was still more powerful then him, and in a few seconds, he had the Angry Marine in a headlock.
"Going somewhere?" Rojo asked, while Indignatio began to curse, yell, and roar at such a rate that it simply became incomprehensible jibber, as more foam and saliva poured out of his grille.
Germael and Metum entered the room. The Ultramarine seemed humored, while Metum merely gave them a furious stare. The two of them stopped fighting immediately, though Rojo gave Indignatio a quick smack on the back of the head as they did so.
Though Metum was a Night Lord, he had more than earned their respect. They had served underneath him for nearly fifty years, and they both knew what happened when Metum got angry. Not even Indignatio could hope to match the primal fury that lurked within Metum.
The Night Lord cleared his throat.
"We know the location of our target. He was recently arrested in a crime spree. He is in the country known as the USA. However, we have quite alot of ocean to cross before we can get to him." He said. They all glanced at Metum. He was there leader after all.
"So… how do we get there?" Germael asked. Metum smirked underneath his helmet."
"I have an idea. Who knows how to fly a Thunderhawk?" He asked. Rojo slowly raised his hand.
"Now… would you know how to fly a plane?" Metum asked. Rojo shrugged.
"Can't be that hard…"