As the return to consciousness assaulted my senses, I became aware of alien voices around me. Gruff sounds, grunts and coughs. Low Gothic but with an extremely blunt edge to it. Orks.
Underlying them was the wet, simpering chatter of the lower caste of greenskin known as the gretchin. I felt as if they were close at hand but it was difficult to hear anything over the sharp ringing in my ears.
Where was I? Though I was sure my eyes were open, I could see only blackness.
The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and blood and the stink of burned flesh. I tried to lift my arm to see what was wrong with my eyes, but a strong hand gripped my wrist and forced it back to my side.
"Oi dok, e's awake" shouted an alien voice close to my right hand.
I tried to resist. I would not be manhandled by a greenskin. Eyesight or not, Alaric Valens would take some of the bastards with him before he was killed.
"Haha, dis might actually work. Ere, keep 'im still." This command from a different ork came just before the strike to my jaw. The blow damn near took my head off. I heard something crack, probably a tooth. The blackness I was seeing grew darker still and I struggled to maintain consciousness. If anything I would show these Xenos monsters that I was not afraid. I was a Captain in the Emperor's Imperial Guard. When dealing with the foul alien I was beyond fear. Beyond pain. Their primitive alien minds knew nothing of the strength of my will.
Unfortunately that strength could not fight against the straps I felt being tightened at my ankles and wrists. So I was to be experimented on. What a waste of the Imperium's training and efforts. If this was to be my end, then I must do something to make it worthy of the Emperor.
The ringing that engulfed my hearing was beginning to fade, enough for me to pick up more of the sounds around me. I could hear large guns firing in the distance. A battle of some sort.
Far more close at hand, there was a crackling. Like a welding torch, or loose, sparking electrical wiring. One of the orks appeared to be operating a small motor; perhaps a saw. No doubt intended for me. There was the blinking hum of electrical lighting. I could feel its heat on my face. It was hard to tell whether I was indoors, or if it was merely dark out. When you are blind, how do you tell?
And then I wasn't any more.
Suddenly the light entering the eyes I'd wondered if I still had, began to register something. First the black turned to grey and slowly, a smudgy waterfall of what was in-front of my began to appear.
"There, dat fixes dat," I heard from somewhere behind me. The crackling had stopped but I found it hard to notice. I could see. My eyesight returned, perhaps I could free myself.
I attempted to lift my head, but a hand with dry, gnarled skin grabbed it roughly by the forehead and slammed it back against the metal head rest, again shaking my already clumsy grasp on consciousness.
"Not yet you idyit. We gotta finish first."
Before I could struggle further, a searing pain made me buck against my bonds. As pleased as I was with my newly restored eyesight, the white hot pain I found shooting through the top of my head made me slam my eyes shut, cutting off the one salvation I'd felt since awakening.
I could smell my own flesh burning.
I was surprised several seconds later to find that I wasn't dead. The pain had stopped and I could still hear. I tentatively opened my eyes and I could still see. It was murky, but the more I blinked the clearer things got. Several metres above me were what looked like rusted iron sheets, though it was still hard to tell. A glint of sunlight shining through what looked like bullet holes made me blink.
There was some sort of excited chatter going on behind me. The gretchin were snickering away to one another incessantly. If the straps hadn't bound me so securely, I'd have smashed their pathetic little aliens heads apart like rotten eggs. I relished the thought.
"Dere we go, all dun. Get 'im up."
Once again I lifted my head, but this time it wasn't roughly forced back into place. I was able to raise it enough to see the murky image of an ork standing to my right. He was fiddling with the strap at my wrist. Expecting it to tighten, imagine my surprise when instead it was loosed.
Now was my chance.
As soon as the one hand was free, I drove it upwards, curled into a fist, striking the green monster underneath the chin. It made a grunt at the impact, the sound somewhat drowned out by the snapping of several teeth. It went over backwards and I reached for my other hand, hoping to free it.
"Oi!" said an ork from behind me, but I ignored it. The gretchin were still giggling. Not for much longer if I could help it.
"What ya doin'?" said the voice again, closer this time.
My left hand was free, but the ork was on me. I felt its hot breath on my neck as its huge green arms engulfed my own from behind, pulling them backwards and attempting to pin my back against the table. My training kicked in and I drove my head backwards, relishing in the blunt crack as a I squashed the already stunted nose of the xeno, further into its porcine face.
Its grip on my arms slackened a little and I repeated the gesture several more times until I felt the weight of the creature drop down just behind me; its warm blood greasing my back as it fell.
I reached for my ankles, undoing them as quickly as I could. My vision was still blurry but I was beginning to take in more of my surroundings. As I scrabbled to free my legs I noticed I was lying on a table several feet from the floor. There were others like it near me, each containing the body of an ork in some stage of medical procedure. The glare from the lights above gave them a macabre spotlight that glinted off the metal staples along the stumps of their missing limbs. They all appeared to be unconscious, though most likely they were dead.
The snickering had stopped. Finally freeing myself I jumped to the floor, blinking the final blurriness from my vision. The ork I had hit with a clean uppercut was out cold. I ignored him and turned to my right. In front of me was a pack of six small gretchin, each clutching certain items of crude surgical equipment. They stared at me with fear in their eyes; I'm sure a common emotion for such a pathetic creature.
I smiled and made to step towards them. They immediately shrieked, throwing their makeshift tools in the air and scattered, several of them diving into compartments dotted around the room, others ripping small sections of metal plating from the wall and disappearing outside.
I laughed. The first noise I had made since waking. It was a strange, deep noise. What had these greenskins done to me? I looked over at the table I had moments ago been lying upon. There was a steadily widening pool of dark blood, some of it beginning to drip from the table. The body of the ork lying upon it was leaking everywhere. That wouldn't do in such a fine medical establishment as this.
I reached over and rolled it over on the table. its face was a mess. I was pleased with my handiwork. Even if it wasn't dead, there was no way this ork would talk again, not for a long time.
This was no mere ork boy though. One arm had been surgically removed at the elbow, to be replaced by a strange contraption, one I had not seen in my years fighting the greenskin menace. It incorporated a circular saw blade, perhaps the one I had heard earlier. Mounted above it was a large needle, within which was a viscous green liquid. I hoped this wasn't what they had been using to keep me under. I shudder to think what toxins were in it.
I didn't have long to contemplate this however, as behind me I heard the roaring of a large engine pulling to a stop nearby the facility. I looked around frantically for a weapon and for a second felt a stab of jealousy that I too did not posses a circular saw arm.
Looking over my shoulder to check the entrance, I blindly grabbed one of the cleaver's the gretchin had dropped. Not daring to see if it had my own blood on it, I held it low at my side and stood ready. I would not skulk in the shadows like some assassin. I am a front-line trooper. I'll face whatever ork comes through that door and I'll drive my blade into its skull before it does the same to me.
The seconds dragged by as I heard the engine dwindle no more than 20metres away. I felt sweat running down my sides. I stank. Worse than the corpses around me.
Then the time came. The sheet metal door in-front of me slid open and in-stepped a large ork, one of the ruling caste, known as nobs. It was a huge beast, 7ft tall and extremely broad across the chest and shoulders. It had a large blade in its hand, a crude weapon that was barely more than a hunk of sharpened metal. So this is what it comes down to, cleaver vs cleaver.
I readied myself for its roaring charge – the standard attack pattern of any lone ork – staring into the brutish face of my enemy. It scanned the form of the unconscious ork at my feet and the dead one on the table behind me before swinging its' dumb, unfeeling eyes back to mine. I smiled. It was time.
"What da ell are youz grinnin' at?" It said, forcing me to pause. Why wasn't it charging?
"Look ere, wha' 'append to da dok?" It said, pointing its huge cleaver at the ork next to me.
But I didn't answer. Something had caught my eye and I was struggling to process it.
While my enemy's weapon was surely crude, one side was gleaming and polished sharp. It provided a near perfect mirror and I was able to see a slightly warped version of my surroundings in its surface.
Standing exactly where I should have been. Where I was. Was an ork.
I was dumbfounded. It was if time stood still. Little motes of dust, caught in the sunlight from the holed ceiling, hung suspended as I regarded myself in the metal of the ork's cleaver.
I was never a large man, 5'6 when standing to attention. Now I was probably over 6ft, though my hunched thighs reduced that by a few inches. My skin was green, as you would expect. A lustrous, young green. Wherever this ork body came from, it was not old.
Being a human at heart, I saw nothing recognisable in the face. All orks look alike to me. Still, this one was a little difference, thanks to the steel plate covering the entirety of its skull. My skull. I recalled the incredible burning sensation during the end of whatever procedure I had undergone here. Maybe they were fusing my new head back together. Throne! Was my brain in there? Is that how they'd done it?
Breaking me out of my internal questioning, the nob began to laugh. It was a deeper, throatier sound than my own, the rumble of it vibrating some of the panels of the shack.
"Haha, I know," it began, its shoulders shaking. "Da Dok messed up your voice so you'z killed 'im. Ahaha."
Perhaps it had. I was too dumbstruck to even attempt to talk. That's probably why I followed the nob outside. I should have blown my brains out. Perhaps attacked the other ork as I had intended, sacrificing myself and ridding my human mind of the infernal stink of this xeno body. But the medical shell shock, my mind's sheer inability to comprehend what had happened to me meant I did not.
As I stepped between the rough hewn panels into the sunlight, I looked around me seeing for the first time with my alien eyes the dusty slopes of the Kragline hills. The dusty expanse stretched off into the distance and the name flashed into my mind. I had been here before.
I had no concept of time, so it could have taken place a week before or a year, but I remembered running a patrol through this region. My men and I had scouted the area, an advance force of several light armour squads designed to draw out any ork formations. We knew they were massing, we'd not seen signs of more than a handful of the creatures in the past few months. That meant they were up to something. Had I found a group on my patrol? Had I been killed or captured and transplanted into this thing?
The shack I woke in was one of several others all clustered together. There were a handful of gretchin running around, some with tools and ammunition, others with medical equipment. A shed beyond a few of the ramshackle buildings housed some ork machinery and engines, some sort of workshop. A couple of orks were hammering away at something, presumably in an attempt to create something drivable; though from their haphazard methods, I couldn't see how.
The nob bellowed something indiscriminate and one of the gretchin came running over with an oversized pistol. It handed it to me tentatively before running away, moaning in fear.
In front of me the nob was clambering aboard a rickety construction of metal and wheels, the engine being revved to a loud roar by an excitable ork with red and yellow tattoos on its face and arms. It looked and me and giggled, slapping the crude steering construction in front of it and revving the engine again.
"Oi, come on, get in" shouted the nob, its head and shoulders visible above the armour plating on the rear of the truck's flat-bed.
Still incredibly unsure about anything, I felt compelled to obey. I lumbered my clumsy feeling, green torso to the back and hauled myself up. In front of me, sitting on crude metal benches were 10 or so other orks. They held basic weapons, the kind often seen in the hands of these Xenos. Stabbing weapons, large blades and the crude pistol devices like my own. The kind we had never been able to get working, despite the hundreds that had been captured from ork corpses over the years.
Still holding my cleaver, I took a seat near the rear, wedging myself between the bulkhead and the ork to my left. It ignored me and continued verbally sparring with the ork on the other side. I tuned out their mindless chatter and stared at the floor, my green hands painfully obvious in my field of view.
"Now listen ere," said the nob at the front as the engine roared, catapulting us forward. Despite my new found bulk, I had to steady myself.
Not bothering to do the same, the nob stood easily, the weight of its body and accompanying armour making it practically immovable to all but its own locomotion.
"We's 'eading to da front. Da boyz have been hittin' the umies 'ard, and we'z gonna join em. Its gonna be a propa fight." The malice in the orks voice was clear, despite the lack of volume. I had only ever heard orks bellowing across the battlefield.
“Since you'z all fightin' wiv' me today. You'z the Comed'yun's boyz.” I presumed this is because he laughed a lot. I'd yet to hear him say anything to amuse me.
"So, to get you boyz all fired up," said the nob, reaching down to a bucket at its feet. "I gots you some speed juice."
It grabbed the bucket and lifted a ladle from within it. "Got dis from da mek boyz," it said, as it began slopping ladle fulls of a dark red, viscous liquid into the mouths of the seated orks.
"Make you propa' fighty. Some red in it to make you fasta'"
Eventually, after each boy had had its helping, the nob reached me. "Open wide," it said, lifting the dregs of the liquid to my face.
I couldn't tell you why I opened my mouth.
It was disgusting. The worst thing I've ever tasted. Like oil – which was probably a major ingredient – and fuel and awful As soon as it was poured into my mouth, the nob reached forward with one of its massive hands and pushed my jaw shut, holding it closed.
"Now swallow."
I did. And amazingly I didn't gag. It went down without difficulty, though it was hard not to wonder what foulness was now resting in my stomach.
Satisfied, the nob returned to its position at the front of the truck, resting its forearm on one of the handrails. It looked over its shoulder into the distance.
"Almost there now boyz. Get ready," it said a few minutes later.
Some of the other orks around me had begun stamping their feet and punching themselves in the side of the head, roaring after each blow. Undoubtedly they were excited by the prospect of conflict, but I suspected they were beginning to feel the effects of the liquid we'd been force fed. I know I certainly was.
It started slowly, as the last dregs disappeared down my gullet. A warming sensation in my belly, growing slowly into a pulsing heat within me. It flowed outwards through my veins, coursing through me and infusing me with an intoxicating excitement that was hard to shrug off. Similar to some of the stimulants that Guardsmen are caught with on occasion, but this was far more raw.
As the biggest adrenaline rush of my life hit me and – Emperor forgive me – I began to enjoy the sensation, the other Boyz around me began standing up and firing over the armour plates of the truck.
We had reached the war zone.
The truck screeched to a halt and the nob gave a huge roar before leaping over the side of the vehicle.
"Follow me boyz."
The orks around me responded in kind, climbing out of the truck, firing their crude weapons as they went. In my excitement, I followed suit. The kick from the blocky, metal pistol was huge, but my new wrist barely noticed it. A spent casing spun away as I hoisted myself over the side walls and dropped to the floor. The other boyz had already begun following the quickly disappearing figure of the nob.
It was difficult to see more than a few metres thanks to the dust kicked up by the conflict. The truck zoomed away as the last of the other orks crashed down next to me, adding to the visual limitations.
The effects of the speed juice were only growing, driving me to move, to use my muscles, to run and tear and destroy.
I began loping forward, aping the other orks around me. It wasn't as quick as I might have run when I was first out of basic training, but it was fast enough. This surge of speed only seemed to increase my growing blood lust and the need to fulfil it. I grinned a snaggletoothed smile at the boyz running near me. What better place to want to kill something than when you're around a bunch of orks.
They never even saw it coming. I raised my cleaver high and without breaking stride, smashed it into the head of the nearest ork. It dropped immediately, its skull dragging the weapon from my hand.
That didn't stop me.
I spun around, raising my pistol and dug my rear foot in the dirt, stopping myself dead before pulling the trigger. Despite my bracing, the shot went wide, skimming the chest of the nearest ork. The look of confusion on its face, became fearful as its eyes met mine.
I fired again.
This time the shell struck home, crashing through its chest and knocking it to the floor.
My wild attack had caused the final ork to stop, but not for long. It rushed me with its axe, the hatchet blade whistling towards my face. Using my sidearm as a knuckle duster, I punched the gun into its flat features before it could complete the swing, halting its forward momentum.
It stumbled backwards and I unleashed a trio of bullets in its direction. Despite the distance, one missed, but the other two struck its torso, leaving ragged holes in its green flesh. It dropped to the floor on its knees, before collapsing face first in the dirt.
I was breathing heavily, my already stinking body oozing more sweat. I had to kill more.
In the distance I heard the random firing of weapons and the roar of xenos. I picked up the fallen ork's hatchet and headed in that direction.
Running through the dust, my vision became tunnelled and I felt bullets whizzing by me as shots were fired off indiscriminately in the haze. All I wanted was to kill more orks. To kill, to maim. I needed to break something, now.
I reached another small gaggle of orks, running towards a struggle that was going on up ahead. As I closed the distance between us, I began to make out the shapes of other creatures firing at us. They were smaller and weaker, their arms seeming slender as they fired their rifles.
Ignoring them for now. I managed to catch up with the small group and set about them with my axe. Despite having never been the greatest hand to hand fighter, I made up for it with my savagery. I brutalised them, slaying them to the last ork. Not all of them died without retaliation and I received several flesh wounds that would have felled me in my human form, but not here, not now.
As I slew the last of them, I looked to the conflict nearby and watched as the Comed'yun nob cut downwards with its great cleaver, rending the last of the small creatures in two. It looked to me and began to laugh again.
"Aahah, you killed da boyz. Dey's betta sport dan dese." It pointed with its bloody cleaver at the mess at its feet.
I heard a cry behind me and smiled in my blood-lust, turning with an outstretched arm in full swing. I brought the axe around in a terrible arc, guiding it towards the source of the sound as it closed in on me.
My head followed my arm and suddenly my bloody fury, the speed juice, the adrenaline, all left my mind in a flash. I watched in painful slowness as my deadly cut, flew with such force into the face of an Imperial Guardsman.
The cut took the man's surprised face apart at the centre, the blade entering just below his ear. It went straight through, severing and sending flying the top part of his head. The body slumped to the floor, dropping the bayonet furnished rifle as it did so and spattering my boots with brain matter and blood.
Whatever that nob had given me, whatever blood lust an ork feels, it had all blinded me. While I had been slaying a handful of orks – and enjoying it no less – the green skin menace had been slaughtering my fellow Guardsman. And now I had joined the ranks of those murderers.
Shame washed over me and I ignored the seemingly greater rate of bullets that flashed past me. Shells erupted nearby and a great moan went up from the ork host that I felt swelling around me in the dust.
"Oi" said the nob, suddenly nearby, "Da 'umies are pushin' us back. We gotz ta go." I didn't move and when it tried to grab at my shoulder I pushed it off. I wasn't going to run. My fury gone, all I felt was guilt for the life I had taken and the death I had been a part of.
"Ha, suit yourself," said the nob, before crashing a monstrous fist into the side of my head. I hit the floor soon after and before I blacked out, felt the nob grab my ankle and begin to drag me through the dirt.
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