"Hehehe, you humies—real tough guys use big choppas! Not those puny shootas in your hands while you crouch in holes and blast away!"
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Who? Who dared interrupt my fun?!"
The Ork boss wielding the massive axe was furious. He wanted to find whoever had interrupted his train of thought while he was teaching those humies a lesson.
When he turned around, he saw Gut-Shaker standing before him, holding an enormous twin-barreled big shoota that even made him jealous in his left hand, and a power claw that looked insanely brutal in his right. The boys who had arrived behind him stared blankly at Gut-Shaker's luxurious gear, drooling with desperate envy.
"Gork above..." The axe boss looked down at his own axe, then at that awesome, eye-catching power claw. All he could think about was mounting that thing on his own arm. It would be cool as hell.
"Waaagh! You, Gut-Shaker—leave that claw and big shoota behind for me!" The Ork leaped up without hesitation and charged at Yarrick.
Raise his hand, take aim, fire—all in one smooth motion.
The immense recoil of the Storm Bolter made Yarrick's arm tremble, but he still controlled this body as best he could and kept his shots steady.
Several bolts exploded against the axe boss's armor plates, blowing apart what might have been torn off a tank and exposing the wounded flesh beneath.
That shoota's firing noise is brutal! Even my super-thick armor can't stop that awesome shoota's shots.
Throwing his full strength into it, he launched himself into a high jumping chop. He had performed this move countless times, and every time, it had sliced those humies' boring, featureless metal wagons clean in two.
Yarrick raised his power claw. Its three sharp talons spread wide, ready to catch the