Da Minitrukk Job

Every ork aboard the Loot-hava was supposed to be working on Boris and getting him ready for the upcoming job. Farseer Vaedrisa had hired the Scraplootas to remove a bunch of sleepy metalboys the planet they were now ordering and had told them to be extra prepared, so the Boss had put Tinka Zizzbitz and all his mekboys (including the Big Mek’s favorite cobalt colored grot) to work making Boris extra flash. As such, the Mek Shop was abandoned, save a few mekboys poking their heads in for extra tools and supplies for the task at hand and a collection of shadowy shapes creeping along the walls of the shop. A band of four gretchins had snuck their way into the Mek Shop when the mekboys weren’t looking with a very specific goal in mind. They slunk past piles of scrap and half finished warbikes to the back of the shop, where their prize awaited them. Sectioned off from the rest of the Mek Shop, a smaller workstation labeled “Blue’s Korner” was guarded by twin posts with decapitated gretchin heads in various states of mutilation hung. This was where what the gretchins sought sat: a miniature, grot sized wartrakk, in perfect working condition after its umpteenth rebuilding. Their orders had been clear and explicit: make sure Blue wasn’t allowed to use her toy. Whether they stole it or simply wrecked it didn’t matter to Derknitt, so long as Blue didn’t have it, he’d pay the grots more teef than they could hold. Being a clever little grot, Blue had removed a piece of the trakk, something she called a ‘key’, making the vehicle so that it could only work if you either had the key or knew how to rearrange the wires beneath it. The grot tasked to hotwiring the trakk hesitated before ducking under it.

“Wot if she sees us?“ he hissed worriedly

“Shut yer gob and theys won’t finds us, you git!“ the leader of the gang hissed back, smacking the offending gretchin upside the head

Muttering, the gretchin slid under and began tinkering with the insides while the rest stood lookout for any straggling mekboys or even worse, Da Blue Grot herself. The gretchin boss could already see it now, riding his very own wartrakk, drinking the finest fungus beer teef could buy, and maybe using the rest of his teef to buy his way out of the Grotocracy and retire some place nice. He heard Boris’s shoulders had a lovely view come fighting days. He was so lost in his daydreaming that he almost didn’t hear the screaming of his gretchin mechanic. Two of the other gretchins grabbed their thrashing partner in crime and pulled him out from under the trakk, they inspected their fallen comrade for wounds. After a thorough investigation, they realized he had no face, with what was left of his skull gurgling and fizzing, producing thin green wisps of smoke. It had been a trap all along! They readied their weapons and began looking for the hiding place of their assailant. Sure, she may have been lucky, but there were four of them! – three of them! – and they were prepared for her.

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Seeing the gretchins hunt for her made it hard for Blue to suppress the giggling she felt building up inside of her. They were pretty clever, rooting through barrels and looking under piles of junk for Blue. They lost one of their own to carelessness and her acid bomb already; there was no way they were going to lose another. But sharp as they were, Blue was that much sharper. See, she knew they would look every which way for her, under bikes, inside scrap piles, one even dared to look inside Zizzbitz’s personal room, but not a single one of them looked up. One hand holding her dakka and the other gripping the bottom of a modified Tau Gun Drone, Blue and Mr. Squig descended on the Squigkopta with a hearty WAAAAGH, no longer able to contain herself.

For most orks, aiming is more of a vague belief than any concrete concept, but for Blue, the ability to line up a shot and take it came naturally, even when she wasn’t paying much attention to where she was shooting. She took out the leader first, as he was the only one armed with a gun. Bullets ripped through his diminuitive frame and finally ventilated his skull with a spout of blood. The other two tried to group together as she released her grasp on the Squigkopta and pounced on one of them, beating him senselessly with her trusty spanner and laughing with innocent, unadulterated glee as the final intruder lost his nerve and ran in sheer terror. After the grot beneath her stopped moving and the thwacks of her spanner got more and more wet, Blue arched her back and craned her head backwards, affording an upside down view of Mr. Squig chasing the final gretchin, his Squigkopta puttering and whizzing faithfully. Satisfied by the sight, Blue gave the grot corpse a few more good whacks for good measure.  Once that got boring, she moved to grab her tools; a small buzzsaw attached to the end of a short pole the length of her forearm and some pliers. The heads would make a great addition to her scarepole and the Grot teef wouldn’t be worth much, but they would be enough to buy herself two mugs of fungus beer, one in celebration of today’s victory and one to bribe Tinka to ignore her “mucking about“. Humming a little diddy to herself, she headed out to get back to working on Boris. She could retrieve the mangled corpse of the last grot later, in the meantime she’d let Mr. Squig play with his new chew toy until she was done with the day’s chores. Maybe then she could get to the bottom of the sudden increase in grot assaults on her Bluetrukka…