Go, Go, Gearheadz!

Tekbrain's eyes shot open and he slowly sat up with a yawn. Briefly, he glanced at the daemonette groupies around him, still deep in slumber. Each an expert in a different sort of sensual scratching. Then, he carefully moved the fursquig sheets and got off the bed. The crimson carpet squig nibbled at his toes, producing a quite pleasing sensation.

He shuffled into a pair of slippers and put on an exquisite violet nightrobe, both lined with nuggets of gold, and made his way out of the room. The hallways of their living quarters were lined by portraits of various prominent figures. Boss Nignub, a mandatory inclusion, Gork or Mork, no one could tell, even the likes of Gobby da' Gobbinator, resting in pieces.

He reached the kitchen, where a slender figure stood at a window, holding a small pouch. The eldar grabbed handfuls of teef and threw them down to the streets. The sounds of a brawl erupted soon afterwards, gunfire added to the mix within seconds. Malakar glanced in his direction and smiled:

"Good morning."

"Mornin'. Feedin' da' animulz?"

"Quite. Perfect timing, the coffee is almost ready."

The steaming liquid sent an exquisite aroma throughout the entire room. They drank from diamond-studded cups as Tekbrain clumsily opened the daily newspaper, Big Rok Big Text, with his cybork grabby thing. Most of the messages were at most surprising. New boss pole constructed from reinforced ceramite plating, kaptin Pain emits a sigh of relief. Purchases of anti-ceramite weaponry increase. Stiff Tail cafe voted Most Titilating Establishment of Big Rok. New toy manufacturer openi... Tekbrain made sure to calmly swallow his coffee before gasping.

"Wot da'?!"

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Competitiun," a daemonette wandered into the room and rested her head on his baldness, curious. He did not seem to notice, "todayz in da' Gearhead quarta', a new toy maka' 'az set up shop bitz and iz offerin' some real cute stuffz for a reasonabul price. 'Az the reign of Metul Punchiez(TM) come to an end?"

"Interesting. We should go check out this competitor, see what their toys are made of. Literally."

"Iz couldn't agree more!"

It was not hard to find this competitor, as a massive crowd gathered around their building. The two gearheads stared at a neon sign above the entrance, shining in a violet hue. Warped Enterntainment. It was a name, sure, but it lacked the simple power of Metul Punchiez. Simplicity was power. At least, that's what the two kept telling themselves.

Finally, a short eternity later, they were inside. The shop itself was modestly sized and filled to the brim with excited customers. Figures in dark blue robes walked among the crowd, offering assistance and recommending purchases. The toys were something exceptional, that was for sure.

They all depicted, to various extents, a mix between the daemonic and mechanical. From tiny defilers to bloodletters forged of steel, the toys had great attention to detail and even moved in swift, almost life-like motions. They had to admit, they were quite something. At one of the counters, they immediately identified the owner:

Clad in a mixture of navy blue ceremonial robe and black battle armour, she stood there with a large smile on her face. What was left of her face, anyway. The upper half of her head, while delicately modelled to resemble a human head, was clearly artificial, its sleek, metallic surface exquisitely crafted and kept in pristine condition. A quartet of tentacle-like appendages sprouted from her back, and she used them to reach for boxes on nearby ledges as if she had been born with them.

"May I aid you?" one of the robed ones came closer. He did not seem to have a mouth at all, his voice a mechanical rumbling.

"Yeh, I'z got a question," he pointed a her, "that yer boss?"

"Yes. The Techmaturge is our leader."

"Gud. Wez wanna' talk."

"The Techmaturge is currently occupied, but I shall ask."

He walked over to her and whispered something in her ear. She slowly turned to look at them, her mechanical eyes glowing a bright shade of purple. A wicked grin crept across her lips as she nodded to the servant and walked over to them.

"Oh, celebrities visiting my humble shop. I am honoured," she gave a slight bow, "have you come merely to admire, or maybe to purchase?"

"Neither, I am afraid," Malakar eyed her suspiciously, "just inspecting the level of our competition."

"Not 'alf-bad," one of her eyes seemed to twitch at that comment, for a split-second, "youz seem ta' know uz, but wez don't know you."

"Oh, everyone knows you. Your opulence alone attracts gazes and spreads word," the two frowned, much to her enjoyment, "my name is Rita. A faint pleasure to meet you," two of the tentacles extended to shake their hands, "now, if you will excuse me, I have quality, non-lethal products to sell at reasonable prices, while also providing refunds should they malfunction," every word was delivered with a venomous sting, "now, gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind, I have customers to serve and you are taking up space in my shop," she locked gazes with Malakar for a moment, then turned and walked away. Several acolytes soon approached to enforce the rules, but the two gearheads were already leaving.

While receiving their traditional afternoon massage from a pair of specially evolved gaunts, right next to their rooftop swimming pool, the two were uncharacteristically silent. Both were thinking along the same lines, however:

"We'z can't leave it at that."

"Nope."

"We'z need ta' check the place out. See wot'z in there."

"At night. That's when all the exciting stuff happens."

"Yeh. Real sneaky like... like a kommando."

"That sounds like an impossible mission."

"Iz consider it a challengey bit."

A few daemonettes jumped into the pool and the masseurs became distracted. Luckily for them, the gearheads were busy crafting plans.

"Challenge, indeed. And I suppose we'll need to open... the box?"

"Yeh," the box of mostly non-profitable wot'z-it'z was a marvelous thing. Delving into it was akin to an adventure into the mind of a psychopath, "dat'll be a gud larf."

They rose without warning, in perfect unison and made their way downstairs. The gaunts wasted no time and jumped into the pool, much to the squealing daemonettes' approval.

Two clumsy shadows crept through the alleyways of the gearhead quarter, wearing black uniforms in a stunning display of historical inaccuracy. They hugged walls as often as a daemonette hugged fluffy things and, after a few minutes of muckin' about, finally reached the competitor's building.

With the aid of infernal gadgetry, they climbed to the roof, where they soon located an entrance to the building's air vents. Gork bless the zog-off who invented those. After an initial, painful tumble, the two junior infiltrators went deeper into the building, bypassing several of the acolytes underneath. Unfortunately, the air vents came to a dead end. A potential exit was nearby and they crawled towards it, then stared at each other for a little bit.

"Oy," Tekbrain whispered, as silent as an ork could, "don't look at me. Youz da' skinny lil' eldur."

"Ugh, whatever."

After rummaging through his toolbelt, Malakar seemingly conjured a portable blowtorch out of nowhere and burned his way into the chambers below. Moving the lid to the side, he poked his head inside. A pair of acolytes stood at one end of an elongated hallway, buzzing at each other in binary kant. One seemed rather miffed about something. They soon shuffled out of the way and both gearheads descended.

They snuck through a few corridors, before hearing buzzing again and ducking into the shadow. A single one passed next to them, his mechanical eyes projecting a convenient vision cone for them to avoid. He towed a massive cart behind him, filled with chunks of various metals. The two infiltrators shared a look and followed the sod. The acolyte soon reached a large metal gate, buzzed for a few seconds, and was let through. The gate closed immediately afterwards, but, luckily for them, another air vent was nearby. A bit of cursing and squeezing later, they were watching some sort of ritual unfold in the chamber.

It was a large room, big enough to comfortably house about sixty acolytes and a massive set of machinery. Several of them chugged the scrap metal info what seemed like a massive furnace. Another machine extracted the resulting melted alloy and poured it into large moulds. A third seemed to take individual parts and stick them together inside strange, sarcophagus-esque caskets. There was a fourth, machine, a strange furnace with a violet flame and next to it, Techmaturge Rita.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically as one of the caskets was lowered and her metal arms carefully opened it up. The acolytes gasped in unison, some seemed to almost shiver with excitement. A hollow suit of armour could be seen inside, deliberately daemonic in appearance, including spikes, claws and even a moving jaw with razor-sharp teeth. Another casket was already being lowered when she took a few steps forward and addressed her servants, strangely without using the kant:

"Beautiful, is it not? Now, who shall be the first to ascend, my children?"

Intense buzzing erupted in the room, followed by fateful rok, metul, choppa' matches. Finally a victor emerged with a heroic 'Bzzzzt!' and walked up to her.

"Marvelous! Come now, lie down and be reborn!"

The acolyte lay on a platform right next to the mechanical armour. With a snap of metal digits, he was shoved into the furnace. A horrific sound filled the room, a mix between a distorted buzz and inhuman scream. Rita watched the entire process with a wicked smile, even as she fiddled with various controls on the furnace. The screaming suddenly died down and the platform was pulled out.

The acolyte was gone and something worse was left in his wake. The armour swiftly jumped to its feet, its insides filled with emerald flame. Nonexistent eyes gazed upon their new form and the creature roared in approval, fire spewing from its maw. The Techmaturge approached it and petted it on the head, earning herself an unnatural purr.

With a swift look to each other, the kommandos vacated the premises like discreet bolts of lightning.

"Right, so youz tellin' me, dat yer newest competita' jus' so 'appenz to be buildin' an army of daemun robotz?"

"Yeh, kaptin!"

Gorasho audibly sighed, even through the surrounding commotion. The celebration after the 'Bug Boy Reunifyin' Bitz' had left rather large collateral damage in its wake and every ork and git was busy complaining. Gorasho wouldn't have minded, had he not been obliged to actually listen.

"Listen 'ere, Tekbrain, I'z got work to do. Buzz off with yer squigcrap."

"But kaptin! We'z tellin' the truth, wez are!"

"Uhuh. Your track record begz to diffa'. Who waz it that told me Metulmasha'z basement waz full of illegally smuggled grotz? Who told me dat Zappybrain'z new, fancy zappygun was secretly aimed at da' boss pole? Who told me dat Nugnog waz makin' supa' poison fer squig piez," Tekbrain's jaw slacked open slightly, as his brain tried to muster a response, but the kaptin finished, "oh, dat'z right. You. Bloody you. And wot 'appened every time? Fiasko and false accusatiunz. Don't even getz me started on da' whole Metul Shootiez thing. So you'll excuse me if Iz don't believe a single word from yer gob. Now get outta' 'ere!"

Tekbrain left like a sad, humiliated child. Gorasho shook his head, muttering something about daemon robots being ridiculous, then turned to the partially-material, multi-limbed abomination at his desk, communicating with him on a metaphysical level:

"Right, so when waz the last time youz saw yer body bitz?"

Outside, Malakar waited patiently, flanked by a daemonette with glasses and a sizeable notebook, jutting down various information. He approached them and spoke:

"Youz were right. Kaptin ain't believin'."

"Told you calling squig would get you in trouble eventually."

"Ech. Wot are wez gonna' do now?"

"I would have a few ideas," he turned to the daemonette, "Crystal, have we received the newest parts shipment yet?"

"Oh, yes, it arrived this morning," she continued writing.

"If I may, what are you writing, exactly?"

"Oh, just my fanfic. It features Miriana and her fanclub."

"Riiiight... anyway," he swiftly turned back to Tekbrain, "I say we fight fire with fire."

The other's cybork eye literally it up, his tool arm started switching rapidly:

"Oooooh, Iz like the sound of dat."

"I knew you would. Now come, we have work ahead of us and no telling how much time we have. Oh, and Crystal?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get me a contact for inquisitor Brask."

For a couple of days and nights, they toiled in their workshop. As black smoke rose from the many chimneys of their workshop, many onlookers wondered what new, exciting inventions were being made in the incredibly opulent building's depths. Perhaps the new best-selling toyline? Not exactly.

It was on the arbitrarily-determined dawn of the third day, that things changed. The gearhead area was mostly vacant, with only a few early-bird meks getting up to continue working on their newest impractical vehicles. The entire area soon woke up, as a roar echoed through the streets.

The doors of Warped Entertainment were torn asunder, as a host of metallic horrors marched forth from within. Each monstrous mech was slightly different, adorned by decorations and trinkets from their past life in flesh. Among them, on a mechanized, walking platform, was Techmaturge Rita, shouting orders:

"March, march! This hulk shall bow to me!"

They made a beeline towards boss Nignub's hut, crushing any resistance that dared cross their path. The few polees patrols they met were swatted aside like flies, their small-arms fire barely capable of scratching the horrors' plating, augmented by warpal energies as it was. As they battered and tore another group of unlucky orks, a small, round device landed at their feet.

"What is –ack!"

A wall of smoke filled their immediate surroundings and disoriented them. When it cleared, two more figures stood in the street, blocking their advance. She recognised them immediately as the owners of the biggest brand on Big Rok. The eldar stood there in some sort of exosuit, sleek and undoubtedly manoeuvrable. The ork was on the other end of the spectrum, covered in plates of armour, with a massive backpack and equally humongous weapon on his right shoulder, nearly twice as long as his entire torso. The host snarled at them, while she merely scoffed.

The pathetic eldar shouted first:

"Not so fast, Rita!"

"Yeh! Youz didn't think we'z would just let ya' smash stuff up, did ya'?"

Her scowl turned to a wicked grin:

"I never assumed you'd have any say in the matter. In fact, you still don't," she swatted the air with her left limbs, "stand aside or be destroyed!"

"Hmph, I'd like to see you try. For today, Khaine stands with us!"

Immediately after saying that, he swatted at the air a few times and assumed a battle stance. Tekbrain did much the same:

"And Gork... and Mork, too, I guezz!"

When their choreography concluded, a random explosion erupted behind them, bewildering any onlookers. Only later would it be revealed that the rok's gas lines needed a few repairs here and there.

"Oh, I am quivering in my boots," she motioned with all of her upper limbs, "tear them apart!"

The horde did not waste a single second and charged in a terrifying frenzy, flames bellowing from their metal jaws. Their opponents retaliated with equal fervour. Malakar dashed ahead, assisted by back-mounted thrusters. Two large blades suddenly extended from the arms, crackling with ethereal energy. He clashed with two of the soul-mechs and cut through them like a hot choppa' through butter. Yet as the armour gave way, something else became apparent, as the hosts roared in agony. The blades, however exceptional, were not mere crafted tools.

The ork laughed maniacally as a few dozen approached him, the sound of the rotating barrel within his monstrous weapon sending shivers down his spine. Finally, it was time. The air was filled with an impenetrable hail of gunfire, each makeshift round about the size of a few human fingers.

Each impact was accompanied by a blast, shattering their plating with surprising ease and sending shrapnel through the air. Even more spectacularly, the weapon seemed to even tear at their incorporeal forms, like some sort of otherworldly acid. Some managed to close the distance, only to see a toothy grin appear on the mek's face. With the click of a button and a few prayers to whichever god would listen, he pressed a big, blue button... and vanished in a flash of red light. The machines stood there for a few moments, before another bombardment struck them in the back.

"'Ow ya' likez me tellyporta', daemun robotz?!"

Rita watched the eldar cut his way through her useless minions, until eventually the creatures grew afraid and started keeping their distance. Furious, she shouted:

"How?! How can you so easily dispatch them?!"

He answered shortly after cleaving a head in two:

"Your methods are cunning, but unfortunately for you," he ducked beneath a claw swipe and retaliated with a far more precise one, "we happen to have experts on dealing with this sort of filth."

That seemed to infuriate her even more than the killing itself:

"Filth. Filth?! You're a blind, egotistic fool, just like all of them. I'll show you, I'll show everyone," she lifted her arms into the air. One of the metallic ones held a strange, wand-like object, "come to me, my children! Come to me!"

The host paused for a few seconds, and was then violently pulled towards her. The whole process lasted mere seconds. Their metal twisted and changed, forming what seemed to be limbs, elongated and horrific. Its body took on a lizard-like form, complete with a spiked, prehensile tail. Its surface was dotted with the heads of its donors, still screaming for destruction.

As the two gearheads stared at the abomination in horror, Rita's voice sounded from within:

"Hahaaaah, you are mine now! Any last words?!"

The ork didn't even wait around and vanished with a flash. Staring into its flaming maw, Malakar gulped, then spoke:

"Yes. Goodbye."

His thrusters pack got him just far enough to avoid a wall of emerald flame. The beast roared mightily and gave pursuit, cracking the ground with every step. Even as death threatened to take him, Malakar was on his communicator:

"Crystal?"

A chunk of road landed beside him as she answered:

"Yes, sir?"

"I need the mining equipment we've been working on. East side of the gretchin district," fortunate that they were battling there, as collateral damage would be minimal, "right now."

"Oh, okay, I'll just put some clothes on. Be right there."

He sighed to himself and did so again when a turn brought him to a dead end. He turned and met gazes with the metal monster. It took a few steps closer, Rita undoubtedly savouring her victory, when a barrage of explosive ordnance made it stumble into one of the nearby buildings. The eldar rushed past it, giving a thumbs up to Tekbrain on a nearby rooftop.

They regrouped moments afterwards and vanished within of many small alleys. Soon enough, Malakar's communicator rang again:

"Got you on the locator thingie, sir. Be there in just a moment."

The beast got back to its feet with a roar and immediately started observing the area. Her foes were nowhere to be found. She roared again and took a bit into a nearby building in fury. Another screech suddenly filled the area. Her flaming eyes turned just in time to see the danger approaching.

It was half looted tank, half mining drill, half dream or nightmare come true, half too many halves. Dominated by a drill the size of another vehicle, it sped down the street at surprising speed. Rita did not even hesitate and charged to meet it.

Its insides were comfortably spacious, unlike the tank whose scrap it was built from. Malakar and tekbrain sat at the controls, Tekbrain holding onto the steering wheel, while a third seat behind them was occupied by Crystal, squealing like a child on a rollercoaster:

"This is so cool!"

"Yes," he watched as outside cameras showed them the charging warp-mech, "all systems nominal."

"Wot?"

"Working."

"Ohz. Well, turn 'em on, ya' git!"

Each action was accompanied by a comment:

"Drill spinning. Thrusters on. Auxiliary jump jets enabled. Khaine help us all."

The acceleration rammed them into their seats as the tank was lifted into the air, somewhat. Tekbrain shouted:

"Ourz be da' drill ta' pierce da' ooniverse flat!"

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Zog it! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

"Aaaaaaaagh!"

"Weeeeeeee!"

The two titans finally clashed with a hulk-wide crash. Almost immediately, however, it was apparent who had the upper hand. No matter how sturdy, not even the warp-enhanced metal could protect against such an onslaught. The drill pierced and shredded everything in its path, eventually bursting right through the mechanical monster, rendering it little more than scrap. They landed on the other side of the new scrap heap, everyone holding onto the tank to stay in place. There was a silence, before the daemonette spoke:

"That. Was. Amazing. Can we do it again, sometime?"

"Ugh, I'd rather not. Make sure the drill is fine, I'm going to check the wreckage."

He approached it with caution. The warpal energies seemed to be dissipating, always a good sign in his book. The more he looked around, though, the more he realised something was missing. A body.

As if on cue, Techmaturge Rita burst violently out of a nearby scrap pile. Her armour was torn, revealing in equal parts skin and mechanical enhancements, and one of her extra arms was missing, but she otherwise seemed okay, considering the circumstances. The two locked gazes and she screamed:

"Damnit. Damn you! You ruined everything," as she attempted to run at him, it turned into a bit of a hobble. Only then did he notice the shrapnel lodged in her leg, "years of plotting, serving under them."

She lashed out with her tentacles, with clear killing intent, but where she was a brilliant gearhead, she was at best a lacklustre fighter. Malakar dodged out of the way with relative ease even as she flailed in several directions at once. Her leg certainly wasn't helping. He commented:

"Them?"

That seemed to get her going:

"Damned techmaturges. Always just another acolyte, despite my brilliance," she tried to grab a nearby piece of scrap, but as she tried to lift it, another of her arms snapped off, "Rita, fetch me some spare parts. Rita, go get acolyte so-and-so for me. Rita, hand me the tome. Well, I showed them, when I set their planet ablaze."

Malakar put two and two together:

"And stole a daemonic forge in the process."

"They'd always laugh me out when I asked to work with it. The smile disappeared when their faces melted," she stood for a few moments, taking heavy breaths. Even from several feet, he could hear her respirator struggling, "and now, I'm here. Beaten. Disgraced. Nothing once more!"

She tried one last attack, only to collapse onto the ground, gasping for air. Even her extra arms seemed to go limp from exhaustion. He knelt beside her and helped her sit up:

"Don't stress yourself, some of your systems are damaged."

"What does it matter? I am done," her cameras stared into his visor, "nothing I do is ever good enough," he stared at her for a while, then shook his head and chuckled, "what's so funny!?"

"That you can't even see it. What about the toys?"

She would have had a puzzled look, but her expressiveness was limited:

"The toys? Just things I made in my spare time, little baubles, nothing special."

"I would wholeheartedly disagree. They are intricate, detailed, their movements so smooth. Works of art."

Her mouth was open as he said all that:

"Y-you think so?"

"Tell me you didn't think all those people showed up at your store just for the sake of showing up?"

"I... I had heard this was a strange place and assumed... they all loved my toys so much? Oh, my, I would never have thought that-"

"Oy, wot be goin' on 'ere," they looked up to see none other than boss Nignub, towering above them in a light blue coat. Clearly woken from his sleep, he also wore pink slippers shaped like a pair of power klawz and held what appeared to be a plush squig with his normal hand, "I waz sleepin' and then, boom, crash, baaaaaaang," each word accompanied by suitably ridiculous hand-waving, "and now da' grotz be snivelin' somethin' 'bout stompy robutz?"

Where she was worried, Malakar answered with stoic calm:

"Experiment went wrong, boss. Meet Rita, she owns the new toy store."

"Oh, yeh, Warpy Entertainyment. Gud stuff, 'ad a grot buy me a few of those myself. From 'is own teef, too."

"Yes, well, she tried to create an even better toy and, well," he waved at the destruction around them, "it sort of came to life and was hungry. We stopped it in time, though."

Nignub processed the information for a few moments, then nodded, all sagey-like:

"Right, Iz see. Can't be 'elped. Experimentatiun bringz uz cool stuffz, gotta' live with all da' side effectz. Oy, remindz me when Metulmasha' made dat 'uuuuge beamy gun. Took out 'alf the market square with it when it went boom, hurr. Good timez," he chuckled some more to himself, then turned to Rita herself, "you just keep yer bloody gud toyz comin', ya 'ear? Oh, and since Iz 'aven't gotten da' chance to greet ya' properly, welcome ta' Big Rok!"

She could only muster a:

"T-thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now, Iz gonna' go get me some more sleepy bitz. Can't boss around gitz without it."

The ork wandered off and her lenses were again on him:

"You covered for me. Gave me another chance."

"Heheh, that's just what we do around here on Big Rok. Now, come on, let's get you patched up."

"But I updated my system yesterday."

"Erm, not literally."

He helped her up and she clung to him with three appendages. They trudged towards the drill-tank at a necron's pace and she spoke:

"Your name was... Malakar."

"Quite so. Pleased to meet you, despite the circumstances."

"Thank you, Malakar. The pleasure is all mine."

Many wondered why 'Warped Entertainment' changed its name to 'Metul Warpiez'. Some wondered why Tekbrain owned seventy percent of its stock, or where all the robed fellows had gone. Only a few wondered why the 'owner' seemed to sell her wares with renewed vigour, as if she had found her calling in life. One daemonette kept detailed logs on when two certain gearheads met.

And absolutely no one could predict the slew of events prepared for the next squigfest.