The armor slid on like a glove, a heavy, metal, full-body, second-hand glove. The back opened somewhat, letting me step into the leg while it was held open by two Grots. It felt like being a child, with my parents holding up a pair of pants for me to step in. I did my best to ignore how demeaning it felt, and tried to get somewhat comfortable. There were more than a few metal bits sticking into me, but after a bit of shifting, I either broke them off, or moved to where they stopped poking.

  Once everything was on, I made sure things still worked. I did the mech equivalent of stretching, making sure there were no kinks or clogging. Of course there were, but a few goblins filled the rough spots with grease from a disgusting variant of Squig, which got rid of most of the issues. The range of mobility wasn't great, but it was plenty enough for me. I revved the chainsword, which roared to life, a comfortable hum reverberating through my arm. I tested the weapon on a nearby bit of scrap, the weapon sawing through it with ease. I checked the teeth, and none seemed to have been damaged.

  Next, I grabbed my Shoota, popped a magazine in, braced the gun against my armored arm, and sprayed the wall. The recoil from two barrels was powerful, but I weighed a massive amount, plus my arms were extremely powerful, so I kept a modest amount of control over the weapon. The cave wall was covered in small craters as the large bullets slammed into the mix of stone and metal. The roar of my sword and the thunder of my gun was like viagra for my fury, and even without the heavy handed presence of my Orky side, I was thirsting for blood.

  I started to move out, and as I was about to exit the warehouse, a familiar voice called to me. “Boss, don't forget dah Rokket!” I turned towards the approaching voice, and saw a small swarm of Grots hauling my still-damaged Ork rokket, though it had been modified extensively. Ahead of the crowd was Grikkle, his left arm hanging limply at his side, gun strapped to his good arm. I frowned at the sight, trying to remember just when Grikkle had returned. I hadn't noticed any memory of said return when I was watching the mind of my Orky side. I tried to recall the moment, and after a bit of digging in the hazy memory I had of the last two days, I remembered a short reunion, which amounted to exchanged grunts, the putting of his arm in a sling, and the basic modification of the rokket. The lack of thought from my Orky side regarding Grikkle was quite strange. I’d have hoped it would have a bigger impact on Orky me, but after a bit of thinking, it seemed like more of an assumed relationship between pet and owner, rather than of master and slave.

  While worrying, I had too many things on my mind as is, and spending any more time on figuring out the distinctions in the Ork-Human situation was somewhat low on my priorities. With the help of my Grot team, the rokket was attached to my suit, with pressurized locks keeping it in place. I gave the rokket its own round of testing, trying out the new hover mode I’d installed. It worked as intended, though only just, and was far too shaky for accurate fire or even a stable landing, which tended to be earth-shaking. After a thirteen second flight, the fuel was down 9%, though the loss of fuel weight would increase efficiency somewhat. Not exactly ideal, but it was what it was. I’d hopefully be able to improve things somewhat once I took more direct control of the manufacturing side of things.

  Tests complete, I stomped my way out of the cave, and towards the Stormboyz compound. A veritable wave of goblins followed, eager to see what carnage awaited. My plan was very simple. Cause a ruckus, bring out the boss, and stomp him into the ground. As for fighting techniques well, let's just say I had no qualms with filling my enemy with holes before he reached stomping distance, and unlike other greenskins, guns to me were meant to kill the enemy, not make things more exciting. The going was a bit slow, but I chose walking over driving, as I wanted to get as familiar with my new suit as possible. I almost fell twice, but slowly I grew used to the additional strength and momentum.

  I reached the camp before I grew too winded, and rather than take a short break, I opted to keep things moving. If I stopped, I might start rethinking the whole killing thing, and I needed those Boyz if I wanted to take my Mek career much farther. I needed more materials, and more brute labor for larger projects, and especially a few junior Meks to boss around, which would be a lot easier with a few hundred Orks under my control. With this in mind, I prepared for operation ‘Stomp Dah Git’. I stopped just outside the outter boundaries of the camp, and watched the milling orks with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. Would they all work together to fight me, and if I won, would they still stick around?

  The camp was filled with Gretchins and Grots, fetching, fixing, and sneaking around. There were relatively few Orks, but there was plenty of noise farther in. I made my way through the camp, goblins quickly making way for me and my entourage. Near the back of the camp, next to the cave wall, was a large crowd of the Orks, all roaring and cheering as several Boyz flew around on rokkets. As I got closer, I started to make out some sort of training area, with several different landing platforms built into the side of the cave wall, each varying in size and height. The Orks were busy cheering on several Boyz as they flew about the area, aiming for the various platforms, and mostly succeeding, though some ended up smashing into the walls, only to get back up and try again. Perfect.

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  I revved my rokket, and while still a dozen meters behind the crowd’s back, I launched into a run. Smoke billowed out of my suit, pistons filling the air with a explosive clatter. The rokket provided some lift, and I was able to move at a remarkable speed. Right as I was about to reach the crowd, I leaped into the air, gunning the rokket and shooting over the heads of the gathered greenskins. Whoops of delight and surprise filled the air as I aimed straight at the highest, and most narrow platform, taking a slight detour to crash into one of the slower Boyz, sending him careening into the wall. Laughter filled the air, so loud I could make it out even with the thunderous noise from my Rokket. I neared the platform, and with grace far beyond Orkish ken ( though far below my own standards ), I landed on the metal ledge, which groaned in protest.

  I stood above the cheering crowd, killing my rokket to better hear the applause and excitement. I added my own roar to that of the crowds, and basked in the pride that filled me. I let the ruckus go on for over a minute, and as the greenskins started to quiet down, questions on their lips, I used my artificial hand to activate my voice enhancer. I took in a deep breath, and shouted “Any of you gitz got dah spine to come up ‘n face me? I’z be lookin’ fer a good fightin’, but from dah lookz o’ fings, none of yah’z big ‘nuff to dare!” The shout thundered in the cave, echoing several times and nearly popping my eardrums. I'd have to work on that one.

  The crowd exploded with noise as howls of anger, hooting laughter, and the rev of engines filled the air. More than a few Boyz took me up on my challenge, all heading for the platform. But none could get even close. A few shot by, crashing into the wall, and falling to the ground in a heap of metal and broken bones, but not a single one could reach the highest platform. The results brought more howls and hooting, followed by some of the bigger Boyz taking up the challenge. Two nearly made it, but both had to swoop past to avoid a collision, though they both shot a few rounds at me, one plinking off my armor with a tinny clank. This second wave of failures brought the crowd to an almost insane frenzy, some of the Boyz firing off their guns at the ceiling, and a few at me, though none got close enough for even the flakk to hit me.

  As the Boyz started to get in a real frenzy, a large Ork, by far the biggest, pushed his way through the crowd. Massive steel plates were welded onto his frame, and his rokket was almost pristine, by Orkish standards. He held a massive Choppa in one hand, and some form of shotgun in the other. The Nob shouted the crowd down with a bellowing voice, then pointed his blade at me. “You’z an uppity git, izn’t yah? I’ma showz you how a REAL Ork ‘andles 'iz Rokket!” With that, he slapped his shotgun in its holster, then revved his rokket, smoke billowing out from beneath along with a few licks of flame. With a ear-shattering roar, the Nob shot through the air, and with skill that amazed me, he angled himself just right, and cut loose his engine to drop him at the edge of the platform. The Boyz went mad, screaming their warcries and firing their guns. The Nob made to say something, but I didn’t bother giving him the chance. My chainsword severed one of the main supports that kept the platform riveted to the wall. And with a massive screech, it started to come loose.

  Not leaving things to chance, I opened up with my Shoota at close range, aiming for the exposed rokket as much as possible. Sparks exploded as metal met metal, bullets leaving dents and rents all over the armor and rokket, with two finding bared flesh. The Ork stumbled back from the onslaught, as well as from the shaking platform. He glared at me, and raised his blade, but I cut a second support free, and the whole thing fell out from under our feet. While the Nob fell down nearly seventy feet, I hovered in the air with a nasty grin on my face. But the Ork surprised me yet again, firing up his rokket, and managing to rotate just enough to turn the fall into a rough landing, skidding along the stone floor. Without wasting a moment, I aimed myself at the Ork, and gunned the rokket. I shot forward, and as I neared him, I turned away, circling him as I reduced the rokket’s power. I came up and behind the Ork, leveling myself before cutting the engine. I fell through the air right at the Nob, right foot outstretched. My massive boot clipped the Ork’s side, sending him sprawling to the ground. I nearly fell as well, but I gunned the rokket again, the hover mode straightening me up at the last moment.

  Once I was steady, I ran at the Ork as he got to his feet, rokket still running at low power to lighten my steps. I gunned my chainsword, and we met blades in a massive clash. The teeth of my weapon scraped and gouged at the thick Choppa, leaving small rents along the blade as I pushed down, using weight to overpower the larger Ork. Slowly, the bigger Ork was forced down, despite using both hands to keep my blade at bay. While I could have continued to add pressure, I wasn’t in the mood for such a stereotypical ending. I aimed my Shoota and plugged the remaining rounds in his face and neck. The Ork collapsed in a heap, and without preamble, I removed his ruined head with my blade. Turning to the uproarious crowd, I sheathed my Shoota, and lifted the head for all to see. The Boyz went mad, and I roared with them, announcing my new position as ‘Ead Nob.