Gragoth glanced back.
The massive machine was turning around outside the narrow alley.
All six smokestacks continued belching smoke, while more than a dozen engines in its chest roared without pause.
Every step came with a teeth-grating sound of metal straining under the load.
But its mechanical right leg was clearly landing half a beat slower than the left.
Every time it stepped forward, the whole machine tilted slightly to the right.
The two legs weren’t moving the same way.
The transmission system in the right leg was slightly weaker than the left.
Gragoth’s gaze quickly swept across the hydraulic pistons and joint connections of the mechanical right leg.
But there was no time to think about it.
The narrow alley ahead ended at a three-way intersection.
The moment he turned out of it, he’d be exposed directly in front of the cannon.
The mechanical claw swept across from the right again.
At the end of the alley, Gragoth abruptly ducked.
The claw passed just centimetres above his head, its tip scraping across the top of his power armour’s helmet and stripping off a small patch of paint.
Blackfang came running from another direction to the side, moving parallel to Gragoth through the neighbouring passage.
His battle axe was still in his hands.
The edge had curled, but the weapon was otherwise usable.
“Primarch!” Blackfang shouted through the factory wall between them.
“How’re we gonna take that thing down?!” “Quit yelling!
I’ve almost got an idea!” Just then, another figure charged past from the side.
Gragoth caught the silhouette from the corner of his eye.
An iron chain rattled along the ground behind him, while the iron ball in his hands was already swinging into the air as he charged toward the giant machine’s left leg.
“Stikk?!” Blackfang saw him too.
“Stikk!
What da hell are you doing?!” Stikk didn’t even look back.
He accelerated into a full sprint, the iron ball spinning faster and faster above his head.
The chain whistled through the air like an engine starting up.
“I’m gonna be Company Champion!” Stikk’s roar came from ahead.
“Da Champion’s gotta be da fightiest!” He ran faster and faster.
The giant machine’s attention was entirely focused on Gragoth.
Both its mechanical claw and heavy cannon were turning toward the direction Gragoth was fleeing, and no one noticed the tiny figure charging toward its feet with a chain dragging behind him.
Stikk sprinted all the way to the side of the machine’s left leg.
He gripped the end of the chain with both hands as the iron ball spun wildly overhead, each circle growing wider and faster.
“Watch this!” The muscles in Stikk’s arms suddenly bulged, forcing the rivets around the sleeves of his iron armour outward.
The iron ball flew from his hands in an arc.
It didn’t strike the armour.
Instead, it swung around the outside of the mechanical leg.
The chain unfurled through the air, stretched out, and wrapped around it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The iron chain wound tightly around the hydraulic pistons of the mechanical leg, while the weight of the iron ball wedged itself into the gap between two support beams.
Stikk grabbed the end of the chain with both hands and yanked backward, planting his feet against the ground and leaning his entire body away.
“Got ya!” The giant machine kept walking forward.
The chain snapped taut.
Every link gave off the shriek of metal under tension.
Stikk’s grin froze.
The next instant, his entire body was yanked off the ground and slammed hard into the armour on the outside of the mechanical leg.
“FUCK—!” Bang!
The iron plate over his chest caved inward, and a mouthful of bloody spit sprayed from his lips.
But both hands remained locked around the chain.
His knuckles turned pale.
He didn’t let go.
The mechanical leg rose again, carrying Stikk into the air with it, his legs kicking wildly.
Then the leg came down again.
The violent impact slammed his entire body back into the ground.
“Stikk!” Gragoth had stopped running.
Standing at the three-way intersection, he looked back and saw Stikk raise his head from the ground.
Blood covered the corner of his mouth.
A patch of skin on his forehead had been split open, leaving blood streaked across his green face.
The first thing Stikk did was roar toward Gragoth.
“Primarch!
Does this count as fighty enough?!” Gragoth shouted back across the width of an entire factory.
“You’ve proven your loyalty!” Stikk bared his tusks in a grin.
Blood seeped between his teeth, but he looked delighted.
“Then it counts!” He tightened both hands around the chain again as his body was dragged across the ground.
His iron armour scraped against the steel floor in a long, continuous shower of sparks, filling the air with the smell of scorched metal.
The chain pulled tighter and tighter.
The loops around the hydraulic pistons began forcing their way into the gaps around the joint.
Clack!
One chain link became wedged between the gears.
The machine’s left leg visibly jerked.
The entire mech’s stride suddenly developed a noticeable hitch.
Blastfurnace stood in the cockpit, his body lurching violently with the sudden jolt.
He quickly grabbed the railing to steady himself and looked down.
“What da hell?!” Only then did he see Stikk.
The Ork hung from the outside of the left leg, his iron armour battered, blood running from his mouth, veins bulging across both arms.
The iron chain was already jammed deep between the gear assembly and the hydraulic pistons.
“Where’d this idiot come from?!” Blastfurnace roared.
He shoved the control lever forward.
The hydraulic system in the left leg began increasing pressure.
The thick piston rods drove downward, trying to force the leg forward and snap the chain apart.
Stikk’s arms were nearly pulled straight by the tension.
The muscles in his arms strained to their limit, his face turning dark green.
“Think you can shake me off?!” Stikk suddenly pulled his legs in and braced both feet against the raised edge of a steel plate on the ground.
He threw all his weight backward.
“I ain’t letting go!” He abruptly wrapped the iron chain once around his own waist.
The chain tightened around the iron armour there, its edges biting into the gaps between the metal plates and binding his body firmly to the mechanical leg.
Then he planted both feet and leaned his entire body backward.
“YOU—” His muscles bulged beneath the iron armour.
Veins rose one after another beneath the green skin of his arms.
His teeth ground together, even the broken roots of his tusks straining with the effort.
“STOP!” Of course it didn’t stop.
There was no way a single Ork could hold back a ten-metre-tall machine.
Stikk’s feet ploughed two deep grooves through the ground.
Black smoke rose from the soles of his boots as they burned from friction, while every part of his iron armour scraping against the floor threw off sparks.
But just as the mechanical leg lifted again, the section of chain caught inside the gears was violently dragged deeper by the turning mechanism.
Clack-clack-clack-clack!
The gears began skipping teeth.
The chain and gear teeth caught against each other, slipped apart, then caught again, producing a shrill noise like metal on the verge of breaking.
The outermost hydraulic piston was suddenly forced sideways by the misaligned gear assembly.
Its piston rod shifted several degrees away from its original straight position.
The next second— Bang!
A massive rivet securing the bottom of the hydraulic piston tore free.
The mechanical left leg suddenly sank.
The entire machine visibly tilted to the left.
Dozens of tonnes of weight came down on the already misaligned hydraulic piston, and the metal structure groaned continuously under the strain.
Blastfurnace stumbled two steps inside the cockpit and had to grab the railing with both hands to steady himself.
Gragoth stared at the visibly tilted machine.
He had an idea.
It really helps the fic grow!