The Waaagh! Eternal didn't just arrive in the Dal'yth S'kar System—it slammed into it like a green goddamn meteor shower made of guns, teeth, and howling lunacy. Once a gleaming T'au bastion of science and propaganda, it now burned under a sky filled with rokkit smoke, and the howls of Orks were gone absolutely, pants-wetting feral. The planet Ka'var Prime, a jungle-choked death world teeming with toxin-spitting plants, towering razorvine trees, and deeply unlucky T'au garrisons, was the next stop on the road to the Maelstrom. Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka led the charge—screaming into battle with his Boyz, blasting apart defense grids, smashing Crisis Suits into paint smears, and howling "ULTRANOB!" with every kill like it was a war hymn.
But Red? Red was bored.
So, naturally, she challenged Killkrumpa to a "friendly" race. To the equator. Through death jungles, collapsing fortresses, and active warzones. On warbikes.
With nukes strapped to them.
She didn't even wait for a yes. She just unveiled her new magnum opus: The Red Reaper—a blood-red, Baneblade-sized monstrosity of a warbike, shaped like a flaming skull mounted on tank treads, bristling with giga-twin shootas, nuclear exhausts, whirring saw blades the size of drop pods, and a rear spoiler made from a crushed T'au battlesuit that was still leaking coolant. Killkrumpa stared at it for a moment. Then pointed at it and bellowed, "ZOG YEAH, I WANT ONE."
Instead, Red pointed him to his beast: the Boomkrusha 999—a cobbled-together murder machine of obscene proportions. Jet boosters made from looted Valkyrie engines? Check. Ram-spikes made of Baneblade turrets? Check. A kill-kannon mounted on the front that fires Goblin-loaded grenades? Oh yes. And it all ran on a fuel mix of promethium, fungusbrew, and pure disrespect for physics.
With a shriek of tires and the thunderous roar of overclocked engines, the race began.
They tore across Ka'var Prime like gods on wheels, flattening trees, demolishing T'au convoys, and leaving streaks of fire across the jungle floor. Red activated the orbital defense grid—because why not—and fired lance batteries at random, giggling as they dodged the blasts by ramping off collapsed mesas. Every few miles, the jungle tried to fight back with poison spores or carnivorous plant monsters, but that just made it more fun. Killkrumpa ran over a toxic goliath-beast mid-charge, turning it into chunky salsa under his rear treads. Red, not to be outdone, fired a missile into a cliff, collapsing it onto a platoon of Fire Warriors who had just learned the meaning of regret.
T'au commanders tried to reroute their forces to stop the madness—only for Killkrumpa to crash through their command bunker at 300 mph, flattening the staff like pancakes. Red, meanwhile, sliced a Hammerhead in half with the Red Reaper's saw-blades, muttering, "Get a better tank, blue bitches."
At one point, Killkrumpa hit a bridge. It was full of T'au tanks.
Killkrumpa didn't slow down. He hit the bridge doing 400, screaming "WAAAAAAGH!" as the Boomkrusha 999 launched over the entire column, detonating the strapped-on tactical nuke mid-jump. The bridge, the tanks, and several thousand square feet of jungle vanished in a mushroom cloud that washed over Killkrumpa, laughing, sending him flying as the one-shot Phase Shield Red built into his warbike activated. Protecting the bike more than Killkrumpa, who would have soaked in the explosion like a hot tub if given the chance. It drops him off right behind Red, who had been in the lead after taking another route to blow up a science outpost. The two of them pull beside each other and high-five.
Clinging to her fender the entire time was one unlucky Goblin mechanic named Screech, whose only job was to "hold the flux pipe steady." He spent the entire ride screaming louder than the engines, occasionally begging for death. Red refused to grant it. "He's my lucky charm," she said dryly. "Or a seat warmer. Haven't decided."
As the race neared the equator, both bikes hit max burn. They were neck-and-neck, tearing through the final T'au fortress—ripping apart walls, smashing fleeing troops, crashing through medical bays, and leaving only gore and twisted steel behind. In the last stretch, Red leaned out, looked at Killkrumpa, and said, "Loser has to feed the squigs."
Killkrumpa roared, slammed his boosters, and rammed the Red Reaper off the track.
Red activated her gravity stabilizers, backflipped mid-air, landed in front of him, and dropped a tactical nuke from the undercarriage.
They both crashed through the equator ring at the same time, engines on fire, tires screaming, bikes disintegrating from the sheer violence. And the nuclear blast, if you want to get technical.
It was a draw.
They lay in the smoking crater for a moment. Then Killkrumpa sat up, laughed like a maniac, and yelled, "BEST. RACE. EVER."
Red laughed from the rubble, brushing soot off her shoulder plating. "Agreed. Next time, we race in zero-g."
Screech, still alive but missing most of his hair and dignity, whimpered, "Please… no more…"
No one listened. The planet burned. The Waaagh roared. And somewhere to the north, Ghazghkull, busy stomping the last of the T'au resistance, looked over and muttered, "Wot the zog are they doin' ova there?"
