Better Off Dead

Dead?

Seeing that Ironhide had misunderstood, Iron Teeth hurriedly reminded the grief-stricken Ironhide that Dead-Eye was not dead.

After such a wild swing of emotions, even Ironhide could barely take it. He stared blankly at Iron Teeth and Gut-Shaker.

"Not dead? Then what were you talking about?"

"Dead-Eye thought fighting us was boring, so he went off to fight someone else."

Silence.

A long silence.

Completely unlike his earlier anguished wailing, Ironhide stared blankly at Iron Teeth. His heart pumped blood powerfully into his brain, and at last, he understood what Iron Teeth's words truly meant.

You're too weak. Fighting you won't make me stronger. Go kill yourself! —Dead-Eye.

"Gah!"

Ironhide let out a strange cry, his hand clamping down hard on the table welded to the floor.

"Waaagh!"

He tore the table clean off, sending the ornaments, drafts, and blueprints on top scattering across the floor.

"Yah!"

He raised the table over his head and hurled it at the window in a fit of rage.

"Aah!"

That scream did not come from Ironhide, but from the tavern guards downstairs waiting for Bad Tooth. The table hit them squarely, killing them on the spot.

"Phew... phew..." Ironhide panted heavily, his eyes blood-red. If an Ork unable to find an enemy was suffering the greatest misery of his life, then being looked down upon by an opponent he acknowledged was hundreds of thousands of times worse!

"Why does Dead-Eye look down on me?! Tell me!"

The furious roar made Iron Teeth's legs shake, and he nearly fled first. He forced himself to answer.

"How would I know?"

Iron Teeth took a punch from Ironhide and flew straight out of the room. After an intimate scrape with the ground, his clothes were left in tatters.

Ironhide stepped over the groaning Iron Teeth