Chapta Twentyfive: Boss Fight

Say of Da Day: "Quick! STOMP SUMFIN'!" – Killa Kan

The Snakebites struck like angry cobras. Despite the odds being stacked against them, their growing battle rage energised the Orks into a savage frenzy. Uurgrin's axe claimed first blood, severing the head off a Goff Warbiker who tried to swerve around the Wartrakk. Two more Warbikers and their excess passengers were put out of commission by the charging Snakebite trukks, leaving rather noticeable dents in the grills and giving the blue paint a rather pretty red splatter. The sneak attack had, at the very least, allowed the Snakebites to fight on their own terms.

"Good krumpin', boys!" Uurgrin roared his approval. "Get stuck into 'em! But don't get off da trukks unless ya 'ave ta!"

Goff trukks screeched to a halt to let their warriors disembark; the clan was known for their brutal close range combat, and they wanted nothing less. But the Snakebites just drove around them, and through them, and kept driving: they weren't as dedicated to the art of melee and didn't want unnecessary lessons in it. Instead, they targeted Kargust's ground troops who were still running up the street behind the leading Goffs on wheels, to join in the fray. The Goffs did not wield guns larger than a basic slugga; terrible for long range, rapidly moving enemies. To the enemy's credit, when faced with three charging trukks and the Wartrakk, the Goff foot soldiers did not flinch. They stood their ground, the mob of slugga boys and Nobs absorbing the impact of the rampant vehicles until the trukks came to a halt as though bogged in mud, having carved a path partway into the crowd. The Wartrakk tipped over; Oric and Uurgrin got to their feet, clubbing, chopping and stomping Goffs who had began to surround them, revelling in the escalating carnage despite their predicament. Snakebite Orks remained on the back of their trukks using the vehicles as barricades, shooting and stabbing anyone who tried to climb in or anyone who made a good target. Jamz was the only exception; he'd booted open his trukk's ramp, squashing a few Goffs, and lumbered into the green sea happy to oblige his enemy with the close combat they yearned for.

The Snakebites were not without casualties; their temporary barricades were quickly rendered useless – a hail of stikkbommz, particularly enjoyed by the Goffs, made a very meaty mess of any Ork too slow to abandon ship. The small warband was encircled completely; and things only got trickier when the Goff boys from the trukks joined the combat. Kargust was among them.

"COWARDS! Yew lot won't be callin' yerselves Orks when I'm done wiv ya – cos there'll be nuffin left! I's gonna burn an' stomp ev'ry one ov ya ta deff!" The Goff Boss had been insulted by Uurgrin's sneak attack; to him, this fight had become very personal. The offenders had violated Goff values, and the Boss was intent on making sure he dealt with these miscreants – and take Uurgrin's head as a trophy, and show it to Gilb-Rer. Yet another Ork he hated... he would deal with the other Snakebite Boss as soon as his usefulness to Kargust was over. But he'd cross that bridge (and burn it) when he came to it; presently, he had some serious fighting to do.

Kargust ploughed through his clan members, intent on destruction. He had thought it odd that Uurgrin seemed to be head of a band of Deffskullz, but thought little of it; either way, they were still his enemy as long as they pledged their allegiance to Uurgrin. Trying to get into the fray was frustrating; Kargust quickly found a solution to the problem, using his flame-thrower equipped power claw, he scorched a path towards the Snakebite Boss. Goffs parted like the Red Sea.

"I's commin' fer yew, Snakebite!" Kargust stomped his way deeper into the mob, thrashing out with his great spiked mace or simply burning anyone who got in his way. The bursts of fire made Kargust's innumerable studs and spikes glitter in the darkness; he almost looked like the beast he was named after, with his great demon-horned helmet, volatile temper and gushing orange flames.

The Goff Boss's rampage was rudely interrupted when several of his own warriors were flung at his head screaming, making him stagger sideways. "Oi, Goff, c'mere!" Jamz slowly trudged towards Kargust, towering over almost everyone surrounding him. He pointed his giant cleaver at his selected enemy, challenging the Boss; Jamz snarled, glaring directly at Kargust and ignoring all others. "I's gonna rip ya to pieces an' take dat lubly 'elmet o' yours! I wants et!"

Kargust assessed Jamz as the Mega Armoured Nob approached; he looked to be about as big as Uurgrin. Kargust had never seen this Ork before, but something about his savagery made Kargust wonder if this was perhaps the Boss of these Deffskullz (who he failed t recognise as badly disguised Snakebites) his clan was fighting. But then why was Uurgrin giving orders? They had listened to him. And Orlen was here, he'd seen the familiar Snakebite Mek in glimpses. Perhaps Uurgrin was trying to take control of a new warband. Kargust shook his head as if to clear it of the confusing observations. He didn't need to know the answer to those stupid questions, it made no difference to the fact he needed Uurgrin dead, but he would accept the challenge of this new Boss – Kargust never ever sissied out of a good biff, and this Deffskull Boss seemed quite the fighter. That was one helluva choppa!

"If yer wants me 'elmet, you'll 'ave ta cut me 'ead off!" Kargust answered his new rival. "An' dat aint gonna be easy."

Jamz made the final charge into close ranged combat with a deafening war cry. "WAAAAAGGHHH!" He collided with Kargust, and instantly the pair became locked into a brutal battle.

Cleaver made contact with mace, sparks flying as the blade scraped harmlessly along the shaft of the club, deflecting Jamz' powerful attack. Kargust had the wind knocked out of him when a mega claw thudded into his abdomen, which was protected by his wide spiky leather belt. Jamz took advantage of the belt, grabbing it with the same claw, ensuring his opponent couldn't move far.

Kargust aimed his power claw at Jamz' head, and let loose with his attachment flamer; the Mega Armoured Nob instinctively let go of the Goff, raising his hand to knock the menacing burna away, and shielding his unprotected head with his cleaver. No sooner had Jamz let go when he felt the impact of the mace as it struck his cleaver hand, skewering it and causing Jamz to drop his choppa.

"If ya gonna give me scars Goff, at least 'ave da courtesy ta give me propa ones!" Undeterred, Jamz used his now free hand to punch Kargust in the face. The Goff's studs cut into Jamz' already damaged flesh, but he did not notice. A bloodied stump could still be used to bludgeon an enemy with, if it came to it.

The pair threw each other around, grappling for the upper hand. Orks either got out of the way or got stomped on. Kargust managed to tear off a piece of Jamz' leg plating and clamped onto the Ork's newly exposed thigh with his power claw. The Goff mercilessly flamed Jamz' leg, causing the Mega Nob to go ballistic. Jamz thrashed out wildly; he ripped his empty shoota from its mount and used it to club Kargust, denting the Goff's favourite helmet and nearly breaking the Boss's power claw arm.

Kargust was forced to let go and defend himself. He shot a few flames at Jamz to try and force the Mega Nob to back off, but the Nob was in a complete battle rage; fire did nothing to fend off his onslaught. Kargust swung his mace at his opponent but it glanced off, and his power claw was busy grappling with Jamz' mega claw. He employed one of his favourite signature attacks, a head butt with his spiky helmet. Under normal circumstances this would have impaled the opponent's face, leaving them with a few air holes for their brain and relieved them of an eye; but Kargust instead found his own brain reverberating in his skull. The impact with Jamz' giant metal jaw cover had stunned the Goff and bent his spikes.

Jamz grabbed the demon horns of Kargust's helmet and began smashing the Goff's head into the thick chest plating of his Mega Armour; Kargust's head slipped out. He stumbled around feeling as though the world was spinning around him, and saw hallucinations of green mist surrounding them.

"Hur! Hur! Got ya 'elmet Goff, wotcha gonna do 'bout it?" Jamz goaded, and swung his prize at his opponent but missed; Kargust stumbled and fell backwards unable to keep his balance, inadvertently saving his own life.

Green mist grew thicker, static building up in the air. Kargust's eyes had not been tricking him, though he still thought it was an illusion due to having his skull pounded. The air seemed to fizz, until there was an explosion of green light.

Pop!

In mid air, something had materialised; Kargust looked up at the sky from where he lay dazed, unsure what exactly the big black objects were floating above him against the deep purple of the night, crackling with green lightning. The objects grew larger and larger as Kargust's addled brain tried to make sense of the sight, blissfully unaware of the dire situation he was in with a multi-tonne crane and a band of Killa Kans about to drop on top of him like yesterday's squig curry.

Jamz, completely unaware that such events were even unfolding, stepped closer and swung the demon horned helmet down at Kargust, having decided to bludgeon the Goff to death with his new killy hat. As the helmet came down, so did the crane – the giant vehicle slammed down with a great WHOMP!,splattering Kargust in all directions and crushing the helmet. The crane missed Jamz by a hair's breadth; he felt a rush of air gush past him when the crane landed, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stood for a moment looking at the bloodied crane, his mind still processing the sudden events. It was only when he looked down and saw a stump of a horn in his hand, and the remnants of the obliterated helmet he had wanted so much sticking out from under the caterpillar tracks, that he reacted... badly.

First his eyes widened; his chunky brow creased into a menacing scowl crinkling his tough, thick skin. Then his upper lip drew back almost like a baboon's, revealing his impressive yellow fangs and purple gums. Then his pig-like nose flared, and his back straightened out of its usual hunch ever so slightly as he inhaled, like a volcano swelling in the final months before its eruption. His exhale was nothing short of explosive.

"MYYYY HAAAAAAAAAT! 'OO CRUSHED MY HAT! AN' 'OO TOOK MY KILL! WAAAAAAAGH!"

Glim was startled back to his senses when he heard the thunderous voice of the angry Ork; he had hit his head, resulting in a bleeding snout and lump on his brow from the control sticks that had got in the way of his face when the crane had come crashing down after being teleported by the two Ork psykers.

The expatriate Deffskull didn't know what to make of the sudden change of scenery; they were no longer outside of Shilf's workshop as far as he could tell. They were in the middle of a fight though; the headlights of the crane lit up a carpet of violent, wriggling, loud Orks; some of whom had paused and looked at the crane in bewilderment.

Ongrat was steaming from his ears, twitching involuntarily, but still alive after the highly risky and unpredictable double-team-teleportation. He began sparking profusely, his eyes watering a little. "Fraggin' 'ell, we's supposed t've got AWAY from all da fightin'!" He complained, curling his hands into fists in frustration.

Glim looked across at his passenger raising an eyebrow.

"Don't yew say nuffin'," Ongrat immediately defended himself, "bein' a Weirdboy's a dangerus occupashun! 'Splodey 'ead is a common cause ov deff fer us lot. An' I don't fancy 'avin' ter test fate twice in a day – I learnt from a very good friend o' mine dat ya should quit while yer ahead. Or in dis case, whiles I still got me 'ead!"

"I didn't say anyfin'," Glim shrugged, feigning total innocence and returning his attention to the controls.

"Get smashin'," Ongrat ordered, "we gots Goffs ta kill. I c'n see da Boss an' da boys in dere – try not ta kill Snakebites, ya understand me Burnaboy?"

Unfortunately, Glim didn't understand. "Just squash da wuns in black!" Ongrat snapped, trying to simplify the instructions. "Oh, an' don't 'urt da big blue Mega Armoured Nob oo's attackin' da back ov da crane. Ee's on our side."

Not entirely sure how to deal with a raging Nob that was trying to rip open his beloved Destroya without being allowed to drop the wrecking ball on its head, Glim drove the crane forward. He rolled over any Ork who did not get out of the way, and turned dead bodies (and immobilised casualties) into a similar meaty mash as Kargust. With his wrecking ball, he played splat-a-Goff, a rather wide and evil grin spreading across his mug once more. He was enjoying his time as a driver very much.

Most of the Killa Kans had tipped over from the short fall, now wriggling and flailing their dangerous mechanical extensions in an attempt to get back onto their stumpy legs.

Goffs and Snakebites looked about stupefied; no one understood what had just happened. A Killa Kan who had managed to stay upright quickly set the scrap back into action when it began slicing into the closest Orks with its buzz saw, and shooting at anything that moved. Shilf's creations did not care who or what they killed, and they certainly did not require any reason: they just did it for the sport and to relieve some of their boredom and anger.

The fight was no longer two sided; it was more comparable to a pub free-for-all brawl. Goff Nobs fought for the right to be Boss once they realised Kargust had been turned into a meat patty, and groups of Goff boys began to fight each other in support of their favourite Nobs to try and win brownie points. Some were left fighting with the Snakebites, which was more than enough to keep Uurgrin's clan inundated, and others still turned their choppas on the Killa Kans and the crane.

Glim was happy to get his share of the action. He screamed and laughed insanely at the top of his lungs, teeth and gums bared. "AH HAHAHAHAHA! Dis's what ya call BOWLIN', boys!" He stopped picking single targets to release the wrecking ball on, and began swinging it through the crowd instead.

Ongrat was still amazed they had survived; he had, for the first time ever, performed an en masse teleportation. Ilgil had explained during their one-way chat she teleported often, though never far, and this is what had contributed to her surviving to the grand age of six so far. She believed that teleporting something larger was possible if she channelled her waagh energy through someone else; her body was still too small to cope with the charge that would have been required. With the two psykers working together, Ongrat performing the teleport and Ilgil acting as a sort of power supply, they'd done the impossible – they escaped! Only they had jumped out of the pan into the fire.

The Weirdboy felt claws rake his side as Ilgil flailed her arms about in panic, regaining consciousness in a confused state; she had blacked out after the teleportation. Her panic was only increased when she saw her old clan mates out the window. Ilgil had wanted to get away from the oppressive Goffs, not end up in the middle of Kargust's warband.

"Stop dat!" Ongrat pushed the flailing bundle of cloth aside so he could lean out of the passenger window, and began spewing out waagh energy. Between energy bursts he added, "Blast somefin', or yer 'eads gonna pop!"

Ilgil squeezed up beside Ongrat, poking her head out the window. She spat out a couple of rather pathetic blobs of green energy, reluctant to do much else.

Ongrat eyed her with irritation. "What's wrong wiv ya? JUS' BRING'T UP! I don't wanna 'ave me 'ead bang coz yew can't 'andle yer waagh energy."

Another blast from Ongrat set a corner of Ilgil's clothes on fire. She patted it out hastily, and spewed out a slightly more proficient energy bolt than her previous wimpy effort. To her satisfaction, she heard several agonised screams as her waagh energy made impact, and she felt a little better.

Below in the crowd, Uurgrin was hunting out Goff Nobs; he had every intention of merging the Goffs into his warband, but to do so, he needed to convince (bludgeon into submission) the other Nobs who felt they were Boss matetial. Was it just luck that Kargust had been squashed by a crane falling from the sky? Or was this another divine intervention? Uurgrin didn't know for sure, but whatever the answer, an opportunity such as this did not occur often. It was time to bash some heads together and show everyone who the top Ork was.

Uurgrin swung his axe at the first Goff Nob he could find, cutting his opponent's choppa arm off, and then beating the Nob senseless with his bare fist and the blunt end of his axe. One down, lots to go.

The second Nob he came across was not as easy to defeat; the Goff had actually approached Uurgrin, and so Uurgrin did not have the advantage of surprise. Armed with a power claw and fierce looking battery-powered chainsaw axe, the Goff meant business.

The challenger stood still a moment, snarling at Uurgrin. "Fink yer c'n jus' waltz up an' be Boss of us Goffs too, aye Uurgrin? Well, 'ate ter stomp on yer parade, but ya aint got what et takes ter lead real Orks! Dat's gonna be my job!" With a final war cry, the Nob literally sprang into action, jumping over corpses to meet Uurgrin in battle. "WAAAAGH!"

Uurgrin's natural reaction prompted him to burst forward, swinging his giant bone handled axe underarm with both hands gripping the shaft. The two Orks smashed together in a flurry of guttural growls, and rebounded almost as soon as they had violently clashed. Blood and bits of flesh arched into the air, torn from their owners by terrible weapons. The Orks were both so resistant to pain that only a visual inspection would reveal bodily harm so immediately. Uurgrin had a gaping ragged wound from right shoulder, down his collar and across his breast from the chainsaw axe, and two cleaner, but deep, parallel cuts on his opposite upper arm. The Goff, who had been forcefully smashed backwards by Uurgrin's rudimentary axe, had suffered a broad cut to his abdomen; if it hadn't been for his thick leather belly armour, he may have not been standing at all.

Neither Ork relented; they rushed in again, uncaring of their own conditions, and engaged in a second more prolonged round. Swipe for swipe, punch for kick; every hit that landed on each Ork was returned with compliments by the other. Realistically the fight was destined to last no more than a couple of minutes, but in the excitement of the battle both Orks felt as if time had been suspended as they revelled in the moment: despite the obvious implications of a death match, one thing was clear: whoever died would do so with a smile on their face!

The Snakebite's leader eventually got in a swing that would turn the tables; he had stumbled back a few paces from a hard blow to the cheek that nearly knocked his skull helmet off. The Goff Nob had taken the opportunity to swing his own buzzing and smoking weapon, but Uurgrin had been fast. A veteran with his simple weapon, the Boss was just as dangerous as, if not more so, than an Ork with a more conventional mechanical weapon with extra gubbins or flash. The Goff's weapon had been forcefully ripped from his grasp as Uurgrin's axe flew in a partial arc powered by the Snakebite's raw muscular power; the Nob was taken aback, wondering how this could happen. When the Goff saw his arm, it became clear how this had been possible: three of his fingers missing, and his hand and part of his forearm had been split down the centre. The last and final mistake the Goff ever made was to gawk at his own ghastly wound imagining how fantastic it would look when it healed with knotty scar tissue, and a few cybork parts added to replace his old fingers. Had he not had the attention span of a gold fish, the Nob may not have had his head hacked off; he may very well have been a Boss if he'd been a little more attentive.

"Dat's wot ya get for bein' such a loud mouf!" Uurgrin kicked the crumpled body of his rival; picking the head up, he threw it into a crowd of Killa Kans still thrashing on the ground like upturned tortoises.

No longer distracted by combat, Uurgrin noticed the green energy lighting up the night; a single thought popped into his mind: Weirdboy. He watched as another gout of green lightning emerged; it originated from the crane that had appeared from the sky, and was devastating Goffs. Over the din he heard a familiar voice yelling at someone. He knew that perpetually peeved voice anywhere: it was Ongrat! Uurgrin was very pleased; there would be fireworks after all.

He bellowed to get his Weirdboy's attention; the Snakebite leader couldn't be bothered to walk over – he still had Nobs to thrash, and frankly, the crane seemed to be extremely random in its attacks; he didn't desire tangling with a wrecking ball flying around higgledy piggledy like a squidgeon on Dok jooce. "OOOOIIII! ONGRAT! OV'R 'ERE!"

Most of the green lightening halted, except for a few smaller bursts. The wrecking ball completed its current flight path, crashing down onto Goff Warbikes that had been left unattended. The ball was still wobbling back and forth when the crane's cabin began to rotate slowly on its tracks. Uurgrin wasn't sure why, but it seemed almost... creepy. He wondered how this was possible, because he was a Boss, and Bosses weren't pansy enough to get creeped out. He put it down to his injuries messing with his head. Nothing ever made him feel creeped; it was not a sensation he ever felt... until now... yes. It had to be his injuries. It was just a zoggin' crane after all.

As the cabin spun around, Uurgrin momentarily caught the gaze of the driver. A glimmer reflected off the Ork's welding goggles.

Shtupid 'urties! Uurgrin thought to himself embarrassed. Dat dam strange feelin's back! Gotta see da Dok 'bout dis if et don't go away. It's jus' not right fer a Boss.

"I fawt I 'eard ya, Boss!" Ongrat stuck his head out of the passenger side window, grinning down at Uurgrin, a little bit of fluorescent drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. "What's da Goffs doin' 'ere?"

"Do me a favour an' kill Goff Nobs dat don't wanna lissen to me," the Snakebite Boss ordered Ongrat, completely ignoring his subordinate's question. "An' 'ow did ya pop outta da sky like dat? Dat's weird!"

Ongrat exhaled out his nose noisily, irritated but used to not having his questions answered. "Dat's why I's called a Weirdboy, Boss. It's a long story, tell ya later, when we aint got dese gits ter worry 'bout stabbin' us ta deff."

The mass brawl was beginning to wane. A large number of Orks had been killed or injured to the point they couldn't fight anymore, and some Orks had decided that looting corpses would be profitable. Those that were left clashing were gravitating into smaller groups, alongside the remaining top Nobs – including Jamz and Oric. Uurgrin drew his lips back in a snarl; that could be problematic. He'd have to somehow belt the pair into compliance, and he didn't have many Snakebites left to back him up.

Another chill rippled down his spine. Instinctively he turned around, and saw the crane was crawling closer slowly. It dawned on Uurgrin that there was a very simple solution to his problem. It was standing right behind him with a suspiciously smirking Deffskull at its controls. He ran up to the crane and yelled at Ongrat, "Why's dere a Deffskull lad drivin' dis? It's Snakebite property!" Uurgrin began climbing up the side of the crane on the passenger side without waiting for a reply.

Glim did not appreciate what he had heard; as far as he was concerned, he was the sole owner of the wonderful destructive contraption. "Knew I shoulda painted et sooner!" He grumbled angrily to himself, roughly jolting the control sticks, taking his frustrations out on anything that made an amusing target. There was no point arguing with the Snakebite Boss. He'd just get his head kicked in if he did so.

The cabin was about to become very cramped, so Ongrat opted to ride on top of the crane with Jawge to make room for Uurgrin. Ilgil followed the older psyker out; past experience had taught her to avoid large Orks when possible. Once the Boss was in the cabin, he slammed the door shut beside him, and immediately Glim felt a stare drilling into the side of his head. He grabbed his burna that was beside him, and pulled it closer for comfort, keeping his gaze forward to avoid looking the Boss in the eye.

To Glim's relief the awkward silence had been interrupted when Uurgrin bellowed out to his Weirdboy, "Oi, Ongrat, where's da Dok? I needs 'er."

A large scaly head appeared beside the passenger window as Jawge, the Weirdboy sitting with his legs wrapped around its neck just below the jaw, lowered itself so its rider could speak to Uurgrin face to face. "Oh... I forgot 'bout dem. Uh... well. Ya see, Boss..."

"Whadoya mean ya fergot 'bouts 'em? Wot, didja leave da Dok behind?" Uurgrin interrupted impatiently.

"No, Boss. Mokka bought 'em off Shilf, an' sent 'em back to da Goff's camp as slaves."

Ongrat tugged at Jawge's reigns to retreat, but a thick green arm flew out the window and grabbed a fistful of the Weirdboy's recently transplanted chest hair. "ARE YEW TELLIN' ME WE AINT GOT A DOK NO MORE?" Images of his clan charging into battle mounted on cyboars vaporised from Uurgrin's mind. Without a Dok, he wouldn't be able to have the wheeled steeds that he loved so much. He may as well not even have any Meks without a Dok. Speaking of which... "An' wot about dat runty Mek?" Uurgrin's voice was deadly quiet.

Fearing his life would end not with an explosion but with an implosion, Ongrat tried his best to pacify Uurgrin. "It aint so bad, Boss... ya still got Orlen, an' you'll soon 'ave all dese 'ere boys followin' ya, right? Why not jus' barge into da camp an' snatch da girls back. Most ov da Goff's're 'ere in Squigopolis. Dere camp must be as defenceless as a stinger squig wiv et's tail torn off." Well, it was sort of half true; but Ongrat didn't want to elaborate on the details – they might make the idea sound a little less appealing.

The Boss let go of Ongrat's chest hair. "S'pose dat's a good plan," Uurgrin mused; it did sound simple. He had a bit of a problem to deal with first, though. Turnign to Glim, he gave the crane driver instructions. "Right, lissen up..." Uurgrin paused, not sure who the Ork actually was, "...lad. Yer gonna drop da wreckin' ball right on top ov Jamz, an' pin 'im to da ground so's I c'n 'ave a moment to address da boys wivvout interrupshuns."

"Oo's Jamz den, Boss?" Glim deemd it was wise to address his large passenger appropriately. "Oh an' da name's Glim; I'm a Burnaboy."

Uurgrin chuckled roughly, "Burnaboy, aye? Bet dere's never a dull moment when you're 'round hur hur hur." He pointed with the handle of his axe to the Mega Armoured Nob to the far left of the crane, nearly punching a hole in the window. "Dat's Jamz, da big stompy git in blue."

Something stirred in the pits of Glim's stomach; he was hoping to avoid that destructive Ork at all costs. Nevertheless, he did as he was told and swung the crane around and ploughed towards the Nob.

Jamz and Oric had clobbered most of the Goff Nobs, and were surrounded by dozens of Goff boys; dozens more were confused, unsure who was the new Boss.

"I's ya new Boss!" Jamz yelled at a disobedient Ork. The mouthy Goff kept his distance from Jamz to avoid being splattered. "I killed Kargust, look, I gots 'is 'elmet!" Jamz held up what was left of the flattened metal icon. It wasn't particularly impressive anymore, minus its demon horns and unable to encompass one's head.

Angry and extremely volatile, Jamz lost his patience with the Goffs and set about stomping and smashing any Ork who was too slow to get out of his way. Oric joined in, enjoying the sport tremendously.

The Goffs looked like a swarm of starlings with a hawk in their midst as they ran away from Jamz, confused Snakebites among them. The increasing rumble of Destroya's engine was not noticeable above the ruckus. Jamz was an easy, slow target too inattentive to his surroundings to realise he was within a few metres of the massive vehicle.

"STOMP! SMASH! WAAAAA- OOF! Ow... 'OO PUT DAT DERE?"

The wrecking ball dropped and knocked Jamz onto his stomach, his back legs and lower back pinned by the metal mass; the thick armour saved him from being impaled in vital areas, but he felt something sticking through the back of his thigh.

Uurgrin stuck his head out of the cabin, bellowing at the Goffs. "Yer got two choices, lads," he yelled, glaring down at them. "Yer c'n join my warband, or... I c'n let dat dere Mega Armoured Nob 'ave 'is way wiv yer. Anyone 'oo chooses da second opshun also 'as da pleasure ov bein' dis git's target practice as well," he said, jabbing his thumb in Glim's direction.

To make Uurgrin's proposition even more appealing, Ongrat pitched in with his own threats. He appeared on Jawge's head, above the cab. "An' if yer don't stop fightin', I's gonna 'ave ter let out a bit more waagh energy – an' ya all know wot dat means."

There was some hesitation from a couple of the Goff Nobs, but a few revs from the crane made them more agreeable; even Oric reluctantly lowered his Squiggoth tusk club. Approving chatter broke out as Orks praised their new Boss, trying to avoid becoming the next casualty.

"Righto, Boss, we're wiv ya."

"Fine wiv me, 'ee's dead killy. Shoulda seen da way 'ee chopped up ol' Rippaboy!"

"Long as I still gets ter ride me bike, I dun care 'oo's da Boss."

Uurgrin jumped out of the cab, swelling up his massive chest as he listened to the praise. He walked over to Jamz, staying out of reach, and conversed with the still scowling Nob. "Oi, Jamz, lissen' up."

"What yew want?" the Ork replied tersely. "DAT FING STOMPED ME NEW 'AT FLAT!"

Uurgrin kept reminding himself that Jamz was more useful alive than dead. "Yeh, I knows. An' I also knows yer got a Boss somewheres, but fer now, I's yer Boss, righto? Coz I gots dis 'ere smashy trukk fingy, an' a new mob ov boys dat'll swamp ya if I tells 'em to. But dat's not wot I's 'ere to tell ya. Just fawt ya oughta know dat ya Dok an' Mek 'ave been taken as slaves an' they's not 'ere."

Over the short period of time that Uurgrin had known Jamz, there were two things he had learnt about this very traditional stompy short-tempered Ork: first, he was much like a squiggoth. You just pointed him in the right direction and let him plough a path through almost anything. Second was how to point Jamz in the right direction: either tell him some Ork stole his beer, or, tell him his favourite Dok and Mek were abducted or ranaway. Uurgrin didn't fully understand why this was so, but Jamz had explained during a boozing session that the two girls had to get to the Waagh or there would be serious consequences courtesy of some Ork Jamz called Mumzy. Uurgrin wondered just how big that Ork must have been to make Jamz do as he was told – he had to drop a wrecking ball on the big Nob's head just to get him to listen!

"WOT?" Jamz roared, never one to speak softly. "Only Cezzy-Po c'n stitch me up propa! An' Brudz aint been to a Waagh yet; an' she fixes me gubbins! Wot's I gonna tell Mumzy? I WOZ GONNA GET 'ER TA FIX ME NEW 'AT!"

"Dat's right," Uurgrin agreed, over exaggerating nods and pretending he empathised with the Nob. "So's we're gonna get 'em back, me an' da lads, if yer come wiv us. Rememba, we're still 'eadin' for dat big ol' Waagh ya told us 'bout, so we c'n get 'em on da way to et. No biggie Jamz. We jus' walk inta da Goff camp an' kill any Ork 'oo tries ter stop us. Yeah? Oh an' yew c'n bet yer boots dem Goffs's got a real good Pub – I 'eard dey drink more beer den even yew Evil Sunz!"

"NO ONE DRINKS BEER LIKE EVIL SUNZ!"

"Den prove et when we gets dere." Satisfied that Jamz had been 'pointed in da right direcshun', Uurgrin signalled Glim, and the wrecking ball was lifted off the Mega Armoured Nob. With the help of several Orks, Jamz was pulled to his feet once again.

"So wot's we doin' now, Boss?" A new Goff member of Uurgrin's warband asked.

"Get da trukks," Uurgrin said addressing the warband, "an' fix 'em up yer can. Dere any Meks 'ere?"

Only a single Goff raised their choppa. "Right 'ere Boss."

Why's da Meks always da wuns ter get killed or vanish? Uurgrin thought in frustration. "Go see Orlen; 'ee's da 'ead Snakebite Mek – ov'r dere, ee's already fixin' da trukks I see. Any Doks?" He asked hopefully. As expected, no one raised their hand; Uurgrin wasn't surprised. Doks were harder to come by than even Meks in the desert. "Righto then; da rest ov yew lot, 'elp get any Ork still alive dat's layin' 'round onto da trukks. We're leavin' soon as Orlen an' da uvver lad fixes our wheelz."

With the help of Glim and a couple of Goff Burnaboys, Orlen and the Goff Mek, who had introduced himself as 'Ludrik da Oily', cannibalised two trukks to repair as best they could the other seven. Several of the krumped Warbikes had been torn apart to aid the repairs as well, though Ludrik insisted that they put as many damaged bikes onto the trukks as was possible, for later endeavours. Orlen agreed, keeping his intentions of pilfering the wheels to install into new Cyboars secret; he didn't think Ludrik would appreciate his scheme.

Time might have been problem if it were not for Glim's foresight (he claims it was his intelligent foresight, but in reality it was his lust for destruction and fiery explosions) to sabotage the trukks at Shilf's workshop.

During the battle in the outskirts of Squigopolis, Mokka had rallied his small band of Goffs and bullied the freebooter Meks and Shilf himself into pursuing the fugitives; he may not have been able to teleport (a skill Mokka had never bothered trying to refine) but he felt the massive spike in Waagh energy – and the distinctive signature of his long time enemy Ongrat. Mokka was intent on hunting them down. The disappearance of Destroya, and the complete insubordination and treachery of his whelp of an apprentice (personal slave) had left the Goff Weirdboy boiling with rage. It was this animalistic essence, combined with his potent waagh energy, which made even Shilf bow to Mokka's whims.

Meks, Burnaboys and Gretchin piled onto the seemingly untouched trukks, rolled up the doors, and drove off under the command of Mokka. There had been something unusual about their departure, but Mokka had not been able to put his finger on it; and the few Meks whose gut instincts nagged at them kept quiet – Mokka was not a very approachable Boss.

The band had not gotten far when disaster first struck; the back wheels of a trukk had become loose and disengaged themselves from the vehicle as it tried to navigate around a corner. The trukk drove out of control into the side of a tall building, going up in flames with an unusually large explosion. Another trukk's back end blew up, sending its barbequed passengers on a joy flight in all directions.

Under Shilf's orders, the remaining trukks screeched to a halt; a switch had flipped in his head, and he realised what was wrong. "Somefin's blockin' da exhaust! No smoke's blowin' out!"

Mokka would have probably killed Shilf there and then if the Weirdboy's own ride hadn't blown up under his feet; Mokka had been launched into the air, engulfed in fire and riddled with shrapnel, crashing down onto the road before he even knew what had happened.

Orks fled their vehicles; Meks and Burnaboys alike knew that something ill was going on. One Mek had ventured a look down the muffler, only to leg it as fast as he could for cover yelling "Some git put bang-stikks in dere!"

'Bang stikks' being dynamite; Glim had counted on the heat of the exhaust setting them off, if the taped-together shafts had not caused the trukks to go out of control beforehand. Shilf ran, his beer belly bobbing up and down and his terrible looking squig hair transplant ruffled by the wind.

Many of the local Orks who had witnessed the fireworky event had got out a beer and kicked their feet up as they enjoyed the spectacle from their multistorey homes and shops; it was the kind of entertainment they regularly enjoyed in the big city. Not a single trukk the band had driven out of the garage that night had been left unscathed. Once the spectacle was over, Shilf and the remnants of his crew limped out from their hiding spots. Shilf saw Mokka lying in a bloody heap in the middle of the tarmac and walked over to inspect the Goff. The Weirdboy's head was still intact, but his legs were missing from the knees down, and he looked like a green, red and black Swiss cheese.

Shilf was very fond of revenge; and he knew exactly what he'd do to the obnoxious Weirdboy. "Oi, c'mere," he pointed to one of his Burnaboys who was surprisingly in good health.

The Ork trotted over to the Big Mek. "What'sit Boss?" He asked, unsure whether to expect pain or not.

"Go an' find me Bad Dok," Shilf couldn't help but smile deviously, "an' tell 'im I's got a present fer 'im. Make et snappy, we don't want bossy boots 'ere gettin' better while yer gone. Oh, an' tell Bad Dok dat 'is new pashent's a Weirdboy – a real tricky wun at dat."

The Burnaboy laughed with anticipation, "Oh, hur hur hur! Boss, I loves et when yer get Bad Dok over. Et's always a real treat ter watch yew two doin' yer 'andy work. Ha ha ha!" The Ork trotted away still laughing; Bad Dok was not the kind of Dok you called upon when you needed surgery, he was the kind of Dok you lent to your unsuspecting enemies.