Just as dozens of Ork motorcycles crashed into the first trench, their riders still howling in triumph at their successful breakthrough, the earth answered with an angry roar.
BOOM—RUMBLE—!!!
A chain of explosions ripped through the trench, launching earth, twisted metal, and roaring bikers high into the air. Fire and black smoke billowed skyward as blazing shrapnel and severed Ork limbs rained across the battlefield.
Moments earlier, many anxious players had been considering suicide so they could respawn closer to the front line. But after witnessing the spectacular explosion, everyone froze.
Then the chat exploded.
"Holy crap! They buried explosives in the trench we were just defending?"
"I suddenly don't feel safe sitting anywhere..."
"That's awesome! You can actually fight like this?"
In the rear, Redeye watched his painstakingly assembled motorcycle assault force disappear in a single instant. His massive metal jaw twisted with fury as he bared his tusks.
"Those damned humies!" he roared. "Cunnin', just like I expected! They planted bombs under their own feet just to blow us up!"
A nearby Ork scratched his head nervously.
"So, Boss... the plan failed. Wot do we do now?"
Redeye snorted, twin jets of hot air blasting from his nostrils.
"Keep charg'n!"
He swung his enormous choppa toward the Imperial lines.
"Charge! Kill 'em all!"
At this point, Redeye had accepted one simple truth.
If he couldn't outsmart these endlessly scheming humies...
...then he'd solve the problem the Ork way.
With overwhelming violence.
He would keep hacking at them for ten days, half a month if necessary. If all his boyz died, he'd simply capture another mob somewhere else.
After all, there was one thing the galaxy never ran short of.
Orks.
Unfortunately, the glorious weeks-long melee Redeye envisioned never came to pass.
An hour later, the battlefield changed dramatically.
A sharp engine roar split the sky.
A Valkyrie transport bearing the Imperial Aquila dove through the clouds at terrifying speed. Before anyone could react, the pulse laser mounted beneath its wings locked onto the largest target on the battlefield—
Warboss Redeye.
A brilliant beam of energy flashed across the sky.
Redeye's instincts saved him. The instant the targeting warning prickled across his senses, he threw himself sideways.
The laser grazed his shoulder before punching straight through several unlucky Orks behind him.
They never even had time to scream.
The Valkyrie immediately banked around for another attack, relentlessly pursuing its target.
Soon, an utterly absurd scene unfolded.
The towering Warboss sprinted across the battlefield with surprising speed while the Valkyrie chased him overhead, repeatedly firing its laser cannon.
Redeye remained remarkably unharmed.
The Orks around him, however, were considerably less fortunate.
Some were vaporized by stray laser fire.
Others were bowled over by their fleeing Warboss and trampled into the dirt before they could stand again.
The Orks loved a good fight.
They did not love becoming collateral damage.
Without anyone giving an order, they instinctively cleared a wide corridor wherever Redeye ran, leaving an enormous empty strip cutting through the middle of the battlefield.
More than ten minutes later, the laser cannon finally fell silent, apparently drained of power.
The Valkyrie slowed into a hover.
Its side hatch slid open.
Redeye finally stopped running and turned toward his pursuer.
Several Imperial Drop Troopers, clad in heavy armor and carrying hellguns, leaped from the transport. Their grav-chutes flared briefly before they landed in perfect formation a short distance from the Warboss.
Redeye glared at the newcomers.
"So..."
He raised his massive axe.
"You humies wanna fight him?"
One Drop Trooper glanced back while the others immediately rushed to reinforce the surrounding Imperial lines.
"Don't misunderstand," he replied calmly.
"We're not the ones fighting you."
Redeye blinked.
"Then who?"
"Hahahahahahaha!"
Before anyone could answer, an outrageously arrogant laugh boomed from the Valkyrie's loudspeakers, echoing across the battlefield.
"Since you asked so sincerely..."
Two enormous figures leaped from the transport.
They crashed into the sand like twin meteors.
"Then we'll graciously tell you!"
Immediately after landing, both struck dramatically exaggerated poses.
"To protect the world from devastation!"
"To unite all peoples within it!"
"To uphold the ideals of love and justice—"
"...Wait, wrong script."
"It's the duo of love and justice!"
"There should be three of us..."
"...but the Chapter Master still isn't awake."
"We'll worry about that later!"
Andrew thrust an arm dramatically toward the thoroughly confused Redeye.
"I am Andrew!"
Caleb spun into another equally unnecessary pose.
"And I am Caleb!"
It had been nearly ninety seconds since the two Space Marines had landed.
Ninety seconds spent doing nothing except reciting Team Rocket lines and striking increasingly elaborate poses.
The entire battlefield fell silent.
Players.
Orks.
Imperials.
Everyone stared as though reality itself had briefly malfunctioned.
If a flock of crows had flown overhead cawing dramatically, the atmosphere would have been perfect.
Nearby, the Drop Trooper captain slowly covered his face.
"When they said I'd be deployed alongside Space Marines..."
"...I was honestly excited."
"Now I just want to pretend I don't know them."
"No wonder the units assigned to them keep rotating."
He turned toward the bewildered Orks and shouted,
"Oi! You lot!"
"We're not with them!"
"We just happened to get assigned to the same operation!"
On the ground, Caleb leaned toward his brother.
"...Brother."
"They're trying really hard to distance themselves from us."
Andrew nodded knowingly.
"Pay them no mind."
"They're simply jealous."
"Jealous that the nobility of the Adeptus Astartes transcends ordinary mortals."
Redeye stood frozen for nearly half a minute before finally processing everything.
"So..."
He pointed his axe toward the brothers.
"You two weird-lookin' humies..."
"...are challengin' him?"
"Challenge?"
Andrew repeated the word dramatically, as though it were the greatest joke he'd ever heard.
He tapped the imaginary scouter over his right eye.
"Oh ho ho..."
"A mere underling with a power level of only eighty?"
Caleb quietly raised a hand.
"...Brother."
"Our normal power level is only around twenty."
Andrew's smile vanished.
"Silence."
"You always boost the enemy's morale instead of your own side's."
"Watch carefully."
"I'll demonstrate how a true hero defeats a mere xeno."
He inhaled deeply, assumed a surprisingly convincing martial arts stance, then charged.
"WOLF FANG FIST!"
Redeye instantly crossed both arms in front of his face, preparing for a devastating punch.
Instead—
Andrew leaped.
His boot slammed squarely into the Warboss's completely unguarded stomach.
From the Imperial lines came several exhausted sighs.
"He even shouts his attack names..."
"That's somehow even more embarrassing."
"And why does he yell 'Fist' before throwing a kick?"
"The poor boss got completely outplayed by those shameless humie cans..."
Andrew spun around in outrage.
"Why are you all siding with the xenos?!"
"And have any of you actually watched Dragon Ball?"
"Yamcha's Wolf Fang Fist starts with a kick!"
"So it's completely accurate!"