"Alright, you remember the plan, right?"
I received several nods from the Orks around me, dressed as Skullrippa's Boyz. I, on the other hand, wore the Nob's repaired armor, or what remained of it after the fight.
It was charred, dented, cracked, bullet-riddled, and partially melted. New parts were welded on, a new coat of paint added, and padding placed inside to bring me to the same height as the Nob.
We had to make a new helmet identical to the old one to hide my face, with blue-painted straw replacing the mohawk squig.
The Snazzgun was destroyed, but the Power Klaw still worked. I used it in my right hand, but despite being a great weapon, I didn't like having one of my hands prevented from performing complex actions.
Aside from that, I carried my various firearms and Stikkbombz strapped to my waist.
BUMP!
A jolt broke my thoughts, sending me leaping onto the back of one of the few Trukkz still intact after the war, now in my possession.
However, this caused the gagged Ork with a sack over his head to struggle beside me. The thick, heavy chains that bound him creaked, but refused to break.
He was dressed like me, wearing a cheap imitation of my clothes and equipment. Rukzod didn't know how much I had changed, and I would use that to my advantage.
I whipped him with the end of the chain in my hand, making him stop before he accidentally removed the pins from the Stikkbombz strapped inside his cloak.
"And you, Dobby? Do you remember where you're supposed to go?"
"Yes, boss!"
The Grot exclaimed determinedly, now dressed in rags and wielding the worst possible weapon a Grot could have, if not the worst weapon in the Ork arsenal: a Grot Blasta, a rusty piece of metal that barely fired.
He and the other Grots present were similarly equipped, as they needed to blend in, just like us.
However, I couldn't shake the worry in my chest. I know they were skilled, capable of completing dangerous missions with quality equipment, but now, it couldn't be worse.
I could only review the plan and pray to Gork and Mork that they would return alive. As for the Boyz, I only called them because I needed Orks that would fit properly into the looted equipment, as the Yoofs were too small.
It's hard to explain how much I hammered our objective into their heads, and how much I threatened them to keep their mouths shut and stay out of fights.
If by some miracle that happened, I would reward them, which also serves as motivation for them to behave.
We climbed the hill to the Boss's Fortress, the driver spoke with the guards at the entrance, and we heard the gate open, its mechanisms creaking until we found ourselves in the open courtyard inside.
The Trukk stopped near other vehicles parked at an Ork version of a gas station.
The driver kept the engine running while we left, the Grots splitting up and mingling with the others present, heading to the ammunition and fuel storage and the tank workshop.
We, on the other hand, went to the throne room without being interrupted; after all, we completed the mission Rukzod gave us, Gorlonik was captured, and his warband destroyed.
The damage to my armor would be easy to explain, but not what happened to Skullrippa's warband.
How did an unremarkable Boy manage to take down a larger and better-equipped force? I doubt he'll accept strategy and treat his Orks well as an answer.
Anyway, we went the way I'd taken long ago, stopping before the large metal doors of the throne room.
Strangely, there were no guards besides those patrolling the corridors. I guess Rukzod was arrogant enough to think he wouldn't need constant protection.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
I knocked on the door, and waited, knocking again harder when there was no answer.
"BOSS, IT'Z ME, SKULLRIPPA!"
Silence. I frowned in confusion, exchanging a glance with my Boyz, who shrugged in response.
I had a bad feeling; it could be nothing, but considering my luck, it wouldn't be that easy. I handed the end of the chain to one of the Orkz and drew my Slugga, leaning against the door as I slowly opened it.
I heard strange noises as soon as I did, a mixture of wetness and something crackling, similar to someone chewing with their mouth open, but like an animal.
My heart raced and tension took over. Sweat dripped down my face as I imagined all sorts of disastrous scenarios, but nothing prepared me for what I saw.
Rukzod's decapitated body slumped forward like a felled tree, falling from his throne and chest-first onto the ground, forming a red puddle.
The missing piece was in the clutches of a tall, thin creature, its carapace purple, its skin pale, with a long tail and four arms: two scythe-shaped ones at shoulder height and two more just below, ending in four fingers.
Its head was elongated and smooth, without a nose, with a pair of bright yellow eyes and a mass of tentacles hiding its mouth, which was now devouring the brain of the dead Ork.
"WHA THE ZOG?!"
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
It took me less than a second to process the seriousness of the situation and decide to end the problem right then and there. In response, the Lictor screeched swinging its tentacles towards me and revealing its mouth before dodging the shots with absurd speed.
I unloaded my Sluga, but no matter how hard I tried, even with the precision aid of my Git Finda, I couldn't hit the Nid. He ran, jumped, and spun, dodging each glancing shot, leaving sparks on the walls and pillars struck.
Eventually, I heard the click that made my stomach drop, and the Lictor seemed to sense it, using the opportunity to close the distance.
Fortunately, the commotion caused my Orks to storm the throne room, and after a second of hesitation and surprise, they opened fire, tearing through the air with a wall of lead.
The moment the various triggers snapped and the firing of the Shootas sent a deafening cacophony through the walls, the Lictor planted his feet on the ground, stopping his run, and for a second assumed a crouching position before leaping towards the ceiling.
Words couldn't describe how fast it was. The bullets missed their target, piercing what remained of Rukzod, and before the Orks could even raise their Shootas, the Tyranid began to camouflage itself, becoming invisible.
In a moment of desperation, I used my powers without my staff. I clenched my teeth, feeling as if my brain and heart were about to explode, and sent my prisoner towards the ceiling, where I thought the Lictor would land.
With a mental flick of my fingers, I removed all the pins from the Stikkbombz, causing a mixture of fire, explosions, smoke, and blinding flashes to assault everyone's vision.
Amidst the blurring in my eyes and the ringing in my ears, I saw something fall from the cloud of smoke, landing with a heavy thud. Momentarily, the camouflage failed, revealing the being covered in wounds and burns, struggling and coughing while protecting its eyes.
I wasted no time and snatched the Shoota from the hand of a nearby Ork, aiming at the monster and pulling the trigger. The accuracy of firing with one hand was deplorable, but that didn't mean I had missed.
His upper left arm flew out in a gush of green blood, unlike normal Nids, and thrashed on the ground like a lizard's tail.
The next shot cracked the armor on his right leg, causing the Nid to stumble, but without any clear indication that he was wounded.
The last one hit the right side of his chest, tearing off a chunk of flesh before he disappeared again.
I followed the trail of blood, watching it appear and disappear repeatedly. The wounds slowing his movements, but not enough for me to hit him without distractions helping.
I let out a noise I wasn't proud of when he appeared in front of me, swinging his remaining scythe at an absurd speed. I stepped back and raised the Power Klaw in front of my face, screaming as I heard the metal tearing and felt my flesh below being ripped apart.
A weight on my shoulders almost brought me to my knees, and looking back, I saw the Lictor clinging to the hallway wall after using me as a springboard.
He didn't bother to continue fighting and moved like a spider, leaving a trail of green in his wake. I struggled to stand, clutching my bloody forearm, and stepped into the hallway, trying to find him.
A pair of Orks turned the corner, but they were too slow, being decapitated with a swift slash before the Nid crossed his arms in front of his face and crashed through a window, creating a rain of glass shards.
I ran towards the window with my Orks following close behind. The Lictor cracked the concrete of the courtyard below as it landed with a thud, raising a cloud of dust amidst a group of surprised Orks.
With its camouflage flashing, it fled from the group, dodging bullets, angry Squigs, Grots, and Orks that stood in its way, climbing the fortress wall before disappearing on the other side by leaping from the top.
BOOM!
I didn't have time to think of my next move, as a massive explosion shook the building.
"DOBBY!"
As if that wasn't enough, I heard shouts coming from nearby and looking back, I saw Rukzod Orks entering the throne room.
"LET'S GET OUT UV 'ERE NAW!"
"But boss, ya arm!"
"I'LL DEAL WIT' 'DAT LATER, NOW LET'S GO!"
We hurried across the fortress, ignoring the screams and panicked Orks running through the corridors.
As we approached the exit, I smelled smoke and felt the rising temperature, seeing fire and a dark cloud billowing from the passages leading to the workshops and storage rooms.
I couldn't help but nod in approval, feeling proud of my Grots; this pride grew when I found them all waiting near the Trukk. Their smiles turned to worry and fear, but I assured them it wasn't their fault, and with a command, we got into the Trukk and drove away.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy; someone noticed our escape, and shouts for the gate to close echoed through the courtyard.
"SPEED UP, NAW!"
I didn't pay attention to the driver, but he did as I commanded.
Bullets ricocheted off the metal, and the gate scraped against the sides, creating a shower of sparks and nearly splitting the vehicle in two, but we managed to escape at the last second, speeding through the streets towards my territory.
I looked back, seeing the fortress getting smaller and smaller in the distance, the chaos becoming muffled and disappearing, but that did nothing to calm me, because one of the greatest assassins in the galaxy was in the city.
-XXXXXX-
I closed the door of my house behind me, flinching as I moved my bandaged arm.
"B-boss!"
I raised my head, snapping out of my thoughts as Laenae came running towards me, stumbling and almost falling with her arms outstretched while Gulg followed close behind.
I smiled weakly, crouching down and holding her by the armpits.
"I'm sorry for taking so long, did you miss me?"
I sat her down in my arms, wiping away her tears with a piece of cloth as she tried to push my hand away. When I finished, Laenae hugged my neck as I sighed, sitting down exhausted on the sofa and throwing myself back.
I ignored the creaking wood and metal and thought about what I would do next. My mind was a mess; I couldn't remember the last time I slept—first the preparations, then the war, and now this.
It was only the beginning of the problems. With Rukzod dead, the city would descend into civil war, with all the Orks vying to be the new leader.
I looked out the window, watching my Orks, Grots, and Snots working to clean up yesterday's mess under the rising sun.
There was so much to do in so little time: count the dead, explosives, remaining vehicles and ammunition, take inventory of equipment, organize its distribution, clear the rubble and fill the craters, repair the damage, and begin rebuilding the territory.
I felt a headache coming on, a mixture of my problems and the solution to them.
As much as I hated the idea, I would have to delegate tasks to my Orks; I would have to trust them to complete their work without messing everything up.
I can't be the only one making plans and organizing everything. They need to learn to think for themselves, create plans and strategies, and know what to do in difficult situations.
I will certainly make it clear what will happen if they fail, but I will also make sure to motivate them and offer rewards. I want loyalty, not pure fear.
However, I will have my Grots monitoring them in the first few days to ensure everything goes as planned.
"What do we do now, boss?"
I looked at Gulg, who was staring at me apprehensively. After a few seconds, I gave my next order of the day.
"First of all, you did a good job taking care of Laenae, thank you. Now, I want you, Dobby, and some Grots to gather the largest Orks and Yoofs in our pack, tell them I have a special job for them."
"Yes, boss!"
Then the Grot left, leaving me alone with the child in my arms. Again, I looked out the window, fearing what was to come.
-XXXXXX-
The city of Thumb of Gork was in chaos. Fire, smoke, gunfire, and explosions echoed through the streets amidst the screams of frantic Orks, each following their own desires after news of Rukzod's death spread.
Typical of the Death Skulls behavior, robbery and looting were the main problems.
One Ork had his Shoota snatched from his hands by another who ran past, only for the thief to fall to the ground with a Choppa lodged in his head, courtesy of another green brute who leaped from a nearby alley.
The newcomer barely had a chance to retrieve his new weapon before the original owner knocked him to the ground, causing both to roll away.
While they fought, both failed to notice the Grot who raised the Shoota above his head with both hands and ran away, laughing all the way. That same Grot turned into a red stain on the wall as he was kicked like a ball by another Ork who approached like a train.
In a few moments, that simple Shoota passed through countless hands in less than ten minutes.
In a different section of the city, a green mob swept through the streets, looting and trampling everything in its path. Despite being close, they didn't work together; they only had the same objective: to obtain as much loot as possible.
Anything that wasn't secured was stolen immediately. Merchants had their stalls dismantled and trampled, as well as their bodies when they tried to confront or flee the mob.
Buildings were invaded and all their contents taken, whether through doors or windows. Eventually, even the doors and windows were taken, as well as the walls, roofs, planks, bricks, and the kitchen sink.
Not even the foundations of the buildings were left behind, just an empty lot.
However, a group of Orks chose a more efficient option, tying a building together with several chains, with the other end attached to several vehicles.
The engines roared, the pedals slammed against the car floors, the chains creaked, and the building swayed.
CRACK!
With a snap, the building slid off its foundation, being dragged away while destroying everything in its path.
When there was nothing left to take, the crowd's eyes turned to the innocent passersby who only wished to loot something small and leave.
Some tried to run, others to shoot and throw Stickbombz, but the numbers were so large that the green mass refused to diminish.
First the equipment was taken, then the clothes, and when that wasn't enough, the flesh and bones of the victims, leaving a pool of blood behind.
Few Orks managed to survive all this chaos. Most were powerful gangs that emerged after the destruction of the old ones, while the minority consisted of Oddboyz like Maground and Skartok Bonecutta.
The former closed his workshop and used a mixture of turrets and other defenses to keep invaders away, such as electrified doors and windows, mechanical arms with claws and saws, and the occasional Squig covered in explosives.
The Painboy, whose infamy alone wasn't enough to keep danger away, used a mixture of poisons, drugs, gases, and acids, some fired from the strange device on his wrist while others came from the mechanical limbs on his back.
His experiments also joined the fighting, with Orks and Grots leaving their laboratory, maddened by combat stimulants and strengthened by bionic limbs.
Soon, the number of bodies outside their residences would serve as a warning to keep any foolish Ork away.
However, on the outskirts of the city, what was once a ghetto transformed into a small, prosperous town now in ruins, there was a yellow army that had not joined the madness.
Instead, they dug, opening a trench on the borders of their territory, building a great wall that separated their area from the rest of the Thumb of Gork.
The various craters were filled, creating circles of earth in the cobblestone streets where vehicles passed, reusing what remained of the constructions to erect the wall.
The workers were assisted by Grots and Snots, the former doing the necessary precision work while the latter kept the workers fed and hydrated.
Occasionally, a gunshot echoed in the distance, courtesy of the armed Orks who were there to ensure the work wasn't interrupted by looters.
So far, none had come too close, and the bodies of the dead were hung by their feet as a warning to anyone brave or foolish enough to approach.
Near the main building of that small town, one of the few still intact, a large Ork in purple was addressing the Orks in front of him, all enormous, but still smaller than their leader.
They were well-equipped, listening attentively. Especially Gharmott, the new Painboy, who, thanks to the new knowledge in his brain, had reached a new level of intelligence and understanding of the situation.
"As ya all know, Rukzo Nidkilla iz dead, an' now everyone iz tear'n da city apart, enjoy'n dere newfound freedom! But when 'da flames die down, 'der will be a WAAAGH! ta determine 'oo will be 'da new boss! Ta be onest, I don't plan ta fight for 'da drone, but I won't stand idly by eitha! I will secure our place 'n 'da city as a new pillar dat sustains it! Whoeva sits on top will have a shaky start, an' I will ensure dey kannot 'ist without us! Teef makes 'da world go round, an' our gang iz wun uv 'da biggest movers! 'Da new city boss may be strong, but I want ta see im assemble an army without a single teef 'n dere pocket! If we kan't win wit' numbers, den we'll do it wit' powa an' influence! Howeva, I kan't be everywhere at once. 'Dat's where ya kome 'n. Each uv ya will have a special role. Yer will be ma officers, orks 'oo will stand above 'da rest, lead'n dose below yer. But don't fink yer authority iz absolute; I will be watch'n. Do ya all understand?!"
"YES, BOSS!"
"'Ery 'ell, den let's begin..."
With the tasks assigned and orders given, the Orks set off towards their respective divisions, ready to carry out their orders.
Meanwhile, far from that point, in the tallest building of the Thumb of Work, whose walls trembled with the chaos of the streets below, the Lictor watched, choosing his next victim.
END OF CHAPTER