Da Rippa' - Part Trez

Showdownz

"Senior kadet Snogrot," the kaptin shouted at the smaller ork, who kept rushing to and fro in the office, bringing more and more documents onto a few tables, temporarily pushed together to form a bigger one, "would ya mind tellin' me wot da bloody 'ell you'z doin'?!"

"I'z tellin' ya, kaptin, Iz know where 'e iz!"

"Dis should be gud."

"No, really, kaptin, here, lemme' show ya'."

The tables held up a massive map of the Big Rok in its entirety, from the warpal gardens to the sandy beaches. Dozens upon dozens of red crosses had been placed on it, in every non-ork district.

"Now, looky 'ere, kaptin. I'z been lookin' through da' old casez. Da crossy bitz be placez where da' Rippa' cut some boyz up. See, they be all ova' da place."

"Iz know dat, Snogrot. Iz need real info 'ere."

"Lemme' get to it! Zog," he suddenly pointed to a space with no marks, the 'Big place where we 'ave paradez and stuff', "see it, kaptin?"

"See wot?"

"Exactley! Dere be three 'umie and goody boy districtz right 'ere around da parade bitz. But there'z no X. Almost like da' Rippa' don't want us muckin' about."

"Maybe 'e just didn't get dere yet."

"Maybe, but listen. We'z both know da' Rippa' likez seein' wot 'e doez, right?"

The kaptin nodded slightly:

"Right."

"'E was probably watchin' da bombz go boom yesterday. But we'z didn't even spot 'im. Looky 'ere, though," his green finger moved lower, to what looked like derelict ruins, "da' old smelta', da' one dat went boom. Real close, close enough to blow some stuff up, if ya' ask me. Nobody goez muckin' about dere. Perfect spot," Gorasho started scratching his chin, a fiery spark in his eyes, "da' Rippa' be in dere, kaptin. I'z know it."

"Only one way ta' be sure," he rose from the table and turned to leave, "gud job, senior kadet."

"Wait, you'z goin' alone?"

"If Iz take boyz with me, 'e'll see uz comin' and zog off. Dis be my fight."

"But kaptin!"

Gorasho turned, a hint of rage in his features:

"Listen 'ere, Snogrot. I'z say I'z goin' alone. You'z a smart git, so you'z gonna' let me, understand?"

The smaller ork cowered a bit, then simply nodded. Content, Gorasho stormed away. As the roar of a buggy could be heard, Snogrot looked down to his foot. Ugu was staring right back at him with a look equal parts grim determination and fanatic devotion. Or maybe the little squig was just hungry.

The smelter's ruins were a small maze of corridors, created more by rubble than any of its previous design. Slowly, shoota' and Bessy raised, he made his way through it, eyes and ears scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Light passed through a few holes in the ceiling, providing just enough light to continue.

In the distance, he suddenly heard a clang, followed by other mechanical noises. Someone was definitely working on something. He followed the noise to the remains of a steel door, blown straight off its hinges. The noise was coming from within and so, with baited breath, he looked beyond the doorframe.

The room had been repurposed into some sort of workshop, with shelves lined from top to bottom in all manner of deadly implements, but most commonly explosives of all shapes and sizes. A hooded figure was working on another such device, tall, muscular, the right side of his body hidden by a tattered, blue cloak. His skin was a dark shade of green.

Without thinking too much, the kaptin aimed his shoota', shouting:

"Oy!"

A volley of bullets was unleashed, yet the figure expertly dodged to the side and the rounds managed only to wreck a perfectly good table. His head turned to look at the kaptin, his features still hidden in the shadow, save for a pair of flaming, red eyes. Rippa' returned the shout:

"Pain?!"

"One and only, git!"

"How'd ya find me?!"

"Youz ain't da' only smart git on da' Big Rok."

The Purifier stood upright, nodding his head slightly:

"Ah, Snogrot. Should 'ave sliced dat git long time ago," he shook his head, "woteva'. Iz can do dat lata'. When da fireworkz really start."

Gorasho growled:

"So dat'z wot all da bombz be for."

"Oh, yeh, kaptin. I'z gunna' turn all da' weakiez on dis zoggin' rok into yoghurt. With just a few buttonz."

"Wot makez ya think I'z gunna' let ya?"

"Because youz neva' had wot it takez to stop me."

He shot again, but the Crimson Shadow darted into another doorway and Gorasho gave pursuit. The duo dashed in the swirling corridors of the smelter, the kaptin never seemed to get any closer, but continued raining shots on the Rippa', but invariably missed. The other ork cackled and taunted him at every turn, further worsening his aim.

Finally, the chase came to an end. On a precarious walkway, partially demolished during the long-gone explosion, Black Death came to a halt. Gorasho ran up, noticing the massive array of jagged tubes and spikes below the destroyed bridge, as well as a few dozen long chains hanging to the right of it, with a smaller bridge beyond them.

He unloaded his final rounds, finally creating a disappointing click when the weapon ran empty. The final volley mostly missed, but some bullets struck where the right arm should have been, only to bounce off with a clang.

A ray of light illuminated the Rippa's face, revealing an unusually large pair of fangs, as well as a noticeable scar, running from the top of his scalp down to his chin.

"You'z alwayz been a lousy shot, Pain. Ya' got lucky dat time. But I guezz I should thank ya'," he flung aside the cape, revealing his new arm. Completely orky in every respect, mashed together from what looked like space marine armour plates, it ended in a massive set of long, sharp, serrated daggers, fashioned into the shape of a regular hand, "afta' all, youz did give me dis real gud cybork arm. Cuttia' than five otha' armz, dis one."

"Youz gunna' keep yappin'," holstering his shoota', the kaptin' whirred Bessy to life, "or youz gunna' start fightin'?"

"Iz though you'd neva' ask, kaptin!"

The two nobs charged in unison, Gorasho with a rage-filled battlecry. Chain choppa' darted through the air in rapid swings, but the Rippa' was just too fast, manoeuvring just out of the kaptin's reach. And then, like the fiercest squig, he struck back, the knives on his arm biting deep into Gorasho's side.

With a roar, Pain continued the assault, but fared no better and received another such blow to his shootin' arm. And then another cut up his chest and uniform. It was like the butcher was just toying with him, so efficient and effortless were his strikes. The kaptin finally fell to one knee, and though he remained defiant, it was obvious who had the upper hand.

"Heh, did ya' really think I'd go down dat easily? You'z less kunnin' than they give ya' credit for, Pain. Ya' got any last wordz? I'z got stuff to do."

Before the nob could spit out a sufficient insult, a loud scream echoed through the smelter:

"Kaptiiiiiin!"

They both looked towards the smaller bridge, Snikrot's cousin just in time to see a black maw of jagged teeth close around his face. Snogrot kept swinging back and forth on one of the unnecessarily long chains like some sort of jungle fighter. Gorasho did not waste his chance. Tightening his grip on Bessy, he dashed to his opponent and, with one mighty swing, severed his cybork arm, cutting through meat and armour with little issues.

Ugu dislodged himself from an unfortunate face, leaving behind several new sets of scars and releasing the nob's painful howl. Just in time for the kaptin to deliver a crushing headbutt, which made the butcher stumble and fall off the edge of the bridge. Yet even so, he managed to grab hold of the metal with his remaining arm. Which the kaptin then very gladly stomped on, earning himself another yelp.

After sheathing Bessy, he looked at the still-swinging Snogrot and helped him down onto the bridge.

"Fankz, senior kadet."

"Anytime, kaptin."

The trio then gazed down at the still-hanging criminal, Gorasho with his trademark grin:

"Need an 'and?"

"Zog you, Pain. And you, Snogrot. And yer zoggin' squig," he gasped as the kaptin stomped down a bit harder, crushing several bones in the process, "you'z mad! Youz protect all da' weakiez! All da' squishy 'umiez and goody boyz and kurvy eldurz! You'z gunna' destroy da' Big Rok, not me!"

"Let me tell ya somethin', Rippa'," he again increased the pressure under his boot, "I'z seen lotsa' stuff 'ere on da' Big Rok. Orkz fightin' like 'umiez, 'umiez fightin' like orkz. I'z seen all dese differin' boyz from all pointz of da' ooniverse get togetha' for a good jug of funguz beer. I'z seen them fight, only to go back to muckin' about and just havin' a good time. I'z told da' bestest storiez to da' bestest lil' runtz in da' galaxey," one last increase in pressure, with an accompanied yelp, "so if dat'z wot'z destroyin' da Big Rok, maybe it'z time fer da Big Rok to change and get used to it, 'cuz anyone be welcome 'ere. Well, except gitz like you."

He finally raised his foot and the Rippa', no longer able to hold on, fell. His paniced scream was cut short as he landed on the jagged spikes below, impaling himself on no less than a dozen. The kaptin shouted down at the presumed corpse:

"Iz hope ya got da' point," content with his line, he turned to Snogrot, who was holding up a grenade. He took it gladly, then added, "and 'ey, at least ya' go out with a bang!"

There was no kill quite like overkill, after all. The grenade detonated just as they stepped off the bridge and Gorasho turned to the senior kadet:

"Youz came anywayz."

"Well, yeh. Can't leave me kaptin alone and stuff. Didn't bring any boyz, though, since ya said those would scare 'im off."

"Fankz. Listen, Snogrot," he sighed, "I'z sorry. Fer yellin'. You'z no smart git. You'z a smart boy. And don't let anyone tell ya' otherwise."

Snogrot almost teared up at the words. The kindest he had ever received:

"Fankz kaptin. So, we goin' to Joe'z?"

"Go. I'll come see ya in a bit."

"Right. Come on, Ugu."

As the two ran off, the kaptin allowed himself a smirk. He needed to get bandaged up and then...

The breeze was particularly cool that evening. The primary lights had already been shut off for the rest of the night and so, she meditated without their annoying interference. She heard him coming from two floors away. Finally, he reached the roof, bandaged, but otherwise fine. Without even twitching an eyelid, she greeted him:

"Hello, captain."

"Dat woz creepy."

That forced her to chuckle, breaking her concentration.

"I hear you caught him. Good job."

"Fankz. Listen, Iz wanted to ask, wot be dis thing ya be doin'?"

"Meditation, captain. It helps me relax."

"Uhh, right. Could Iz try?"

The mere thought made her chuckle again, but she humoured him.

"Very well, sit down next to me, in whatever position makes you comfortable."

In direct opposite to her crossed legs, he just stretched them out.

"Gud."

"Now, close your eyes and clear your mind."

"Wot?"

"Try to think of nothing. Let your thoughts and memories flow freely, until there is nothing. Feel the world around you."

Even with those detailed instructions, he kept focusing on whichever story or battle came first, on any particularly awesome kill or one-liner. Then, he mentally screamed 'Zog off!' They went by faster, until truly nothing remained, as per usual. Then, he finally felt it. The breeze, brushing faintly against his thick hide, not even noticeable before. He felt the harmonic noises of several bugs not too far from his foot. The gob squig from two days ago still squirming in his mouth.

"Woorrrr, dis be intense."

At that point, she just burst out laughing, then looked back at the kaptin:

"And I think I know what else you want."

He snapped out of his trance:

"Oh, really? And wot dat be?"

"You wanted to ask if I wanted to go to Joe'z."

"Woah, you'z gud. And would ya'?"

"But of course."

"Gud."

They both got up and she presented her hand:

"Lead me, captain."

"Oh, all fancy like. Iz like dat."

Laughing in unison, they started descending the safest staircase on the Big Rok.