Deep within the Perditia Wasteland, in the center of a fortress built from discarded armor plates, massive gears, and the bones of unknown beasts.
The Ork Warboss sat on his battered yet ostentatiously wealthy throne, resting his chin on one hand in deep contemplation. His bloodshot eyes stared at the ground as he engaged in a mental exercise reserved only for high-IQ Ork Warbosses: thinking about how to secure a "small victory" in the upcoming war against the umies.
Yes, a small victory.
After years of back-and-forth with this group of black-armored umies known as the "Helldivers," the Orks on Perditia understood a despairing truth: securing a tactical victory against the Helldivers was difficult, while a strategic victory was simply impossible.
These umies were like infinite fleas, growing more excited the more you killed them. The Ork bosses on Perditia secretly believed that thoroughly defeating the Helldivers would require Mork himself to wear an iron helmet and join the fight.
The Warboss's modest brain spun rapidly. To win, he needed to concentrate his forces, create absolute local superiority, and pierce their line like a sharp blade. Once a gap opened, he could expand his gains. He could not engage in positional or prolonged warfare, as the Orks and Helldivers could fight for ten thousand years without a clear winner.
The boys below enjoyed fighting every day, but without a clear victory, his position as Warboss remained unstable.
Guided by this strategic thinking, he had tightened his belt, pulled out his prized collection of teeth, and forced his Mekboys to work day and night to build hundreds of clanking Killa Kans. Combined with swarms of Warbikers, the Warboss felt confident he could give those counter-attacking Helldivers a massive surprise in the next war.
Just as the Warboss imagined himself laughing atop the bodies of the Helldivers, a Grot was kicked inside, panicking. A Boy charged into the hall to report.
"Boss! Action outside! Helldivers are callin' us out!"
The Warboss leaped up from his throne with a loud crash. "Are these black umies tryin' to start the war early? Fine, I'm ready! My Killa Kans are starvin'!"
The Boy scratched his head in confusion. "No, Boss. They ain't shootin'. They say... they say the Helldiver Boss is here and called you out by name."
"Huh?" The Warboss paused, then felt overwhelming joy. "The Helldiver Boss? The umie Boss couldn't hold back and wants a duel?"
The Boy foolishly shook his head, unsure.
The Warboss felt certain. This was a rare opportunity. If he chopped down their Boss, the wasteland would be his.
"Outta the way!" He shoved the Boy aside, grabbed his massive Power Klaw, and charged toward the camp gates.
Across the wasteland, wild winds howled, kicking up sand and grit.
Joker sat on the roof of a Chimera armored vehicle. From afar, he watched clouds of dust rise over the Ork camp, resembling a herd of wild boars in heat. A commotion that large meant the Warboss was arriving in person.
With a roaring engine and screeching brakes, a battle wagon modified like a mobile fortress slammed to a halt in front of the line. The Warboss leaped down, kicking up dust upon landing. He looked around and roared impatiently.
"Who's the black umie Boss? Step out and die!"
around a dozen Helldiver guards remained motionless, all looking toward Joker.
Joker dropped from the vehicle roof, dusted himself off, and spoke calmly. "Me."
The Warboss narrowed his eyes, examining Joker from top to bottom. He felt disappointed. The umie looked unremarkable—not big enough, not tall enough, not strong enough. He wore few skull trophies, and his armor lacked heavy plating.
Then the Warboss reconsidered. An umie boss bold enough to step out openly with only a dozen guards had to have a trick up his sleeve.
The Warboss grinned, showing rows of jagged teeth. "Good! Got guts! When do you wanna duel? Right now, right here works for me! I'll tell the boys to stay out and rip you to pieces!"
Instead, Joker shook his head, his voice as calm as if discussing the weather. "You misunderstand, big guy. I am not here to fight you. In fact, it's the opposite. After this, we might never fight again."
The statement hit harder than a bomb.
The Warboss froze for a second, then exploded in fury. "Cursed umie, you tryin' to run?! You scared of our Waaagh?!"
surrounding Orks erupted in rage. Fighting gave their lives meaning. If there were no more fights, what was the point of living? The scene turned chaotic as countless Orks brandished choppas and guns, ready to swarm forward and tear Joker and his Helldivers apart.
Facing the wave of killer intent, Joker did not step back. He raised his right hand and waved it firmly.
The Orks grew quiet.
Taking advantage of the pause, Joker spoke loudly. "We aren't running. A terrifying enemy is about to descend upon Perditia . This crisis is unprecedented—destruction falling from the sky. If we fail, all of Perditia will be destroyed and turned into a dead world. Even if we win, I will likely die in this war."
He paused. "Coincidentally... those guys are green too."
The air turned still.
"No!" The Warboss let out an earth-shattering roar, feeling deeply insulted. "You can only die by our hands! You are my loot! Nobody takes you!"
Joker shook his head with regret, said nothing more, and turned back to the Chimera.
The engines roared, and the convoy drove away into the distance.
Inside the vehicle, the Helldiver driver asked, "Boss, is that enough? These Orks aren't bright. What if they didn't get it?"
"Don't worry," Joker lit a cigarette and leaned comfortably against his seat back. "You can call an Ork dumb or weak, but you can never say another race is 'greener' or 'more Waaagh' than them. They've taken the bait. When the Plague Fleet arrives with those Death Guard in rotted green armor, these Orks will hit them hard just to prove who the real Green Boss is."
Back in the swirling sandstorm.
The Warboss stared at the receding Helldiver convoy, his Power Klaw creaking under his grip. He wanted to order his Warbikers to give chase and destroy them, but held back.
As a Warboss with a sense of "honor," he could not accept killing a rival of decades while they were unprepared. He wanted to crush them fairly in an epic battle.
More importantly, the umie's words stuck in his mind like a thorn.
"A terrifying enemy... and it's green too?!" Two streams of heavy breath blew from the Warboss's nostrils. He turned around and roared at the thousands of Boys behind him.
"Talkin' rot! We are the scariest! The biggest! The greenest! Nothin' is greener than us!!"
"Waaaaaagh!!!"
Countless Orks responded with furious, fanatical roars, the sound waves piercing the sky as if tearing through the approaching dark clouds.