Liu Zhipeng felt like a sponge soaked in a mixture of industrial waste oil and rotten meat paste, being squeezed over and over by an enormous hand. With every squeeze, some part of "him" was forced out between its fingers and dripped below, sizzling and giving off an even stronger burnt stench.
"This opening really is... inventive."
He struggled to open his eyes. A greasy film covered his vision, but the world outside still forced its way into his awareness, blurry yet staggering.
An unimaginably enormous mechanical hand held him. It was assembled from countless rusty iron plates, twisted pipes, and pistons spitting dangerous electrical sparks, its style crude, brutal, and steeped in the Orks' unique aesthetic. The hand belonged to a towering war machine-a Gorkanaut. Its enormous head, fitted with a single red optical lens, turned with a clacking sound, as though enjoying the workshop's bustling atmosphere.
In an exceedingly undignified fashion, Liu Zhipeng was providing maintenance for one of this killing machine's joints.
"Squeeze harder, you useless git!" A brutal roar rose from below, accompanied by the sound of a heavy iron bar striking the Gorkanaut's leg. The impact sent a numbing tremor through Liu Zhipeng's body. "The Big Mek wants the big beast ready today! If you hold up the WAAAGH!, I'll stuff all you little runts into a flamer for fuel!"
Below, a burly Ork overseer with oily green skin waved an enormous wrench, bellowing at a crowd of trembling Gretchin. These Gretchin were small and pitiful, their green skin covered in filth and scars, their pointed ears drooping. Their cloudy eyes held an eternal fear and hunger.
Hundreds of Ork mechanics hammered away at various war machines throughout the workshop, while even more Gretchin carried heavy parts beneath their feet like ants. One careless move