[color=9e0b0f][h3][b]Pentious[/b][/h3][/color]

[h2][color=007236]Recording from Servo-Skull #5342
Mission: Spying on Orkoid entities known as 'Weirdboyz'
Video: #342[/color][/h2]

The recording started innocently enough as far as orks were concerned; The Burna Boyz tribe had gathered for a feast in order to celebrate... something. Normally such celebrations were held due to some victory or a successful raid, but cross referencing with other Servo-Skulls in the area revealed that such a thing hadn't happened with this tribe. Some Analysts suggested that the celebration might have been religious in nature, through the finer details evaded them. Others held the view that the Ork simply felt like throwing a feast and did it. Neither viewpoint was important for the purposes of this recording.

The festivities were suddenly interrupted as a 'Weirdboy' from the Stonemaulz seemed to arrive unannounced. "Hey, are you guys having a party?" There was a moment of confusion among the Burna Boyz at the arrival, which allowed the strange 'weirdboy' to walk forward and look at the ground. "Wow... your floors are so clean." before his eyes went in what could only be called an empty headed, thousand yard stare, his jaw opening up as he started making a loud, low droning "Ahhhhh" noise. 

The local Burna Boyz 'Weirdboy' suddenly snapped to attention, removing the blindfold they were using to play 'Put the Gretchen into the Squiq' and cried "Oh frig, it'z an ambush!" 

The warboss of the tribe, rather then be angry about the situation, seemed more frustrated and annoyed as he bellowed "Oh for the love of-" before reaching up to pinch the skin between its alien eyes "-not thiz curze thing again!"

"It's okay bosz, I've been practicing!" The local 'Weirdboy' announced. "I can win thiz time!" before closing their own eyes and starting to yell "Blahhhhh!" back at the first ork. While the sight was comically stupid at first, moments after it began as the two idiots were screaming at each other, the very ground itself began to shake as greenskins braced themselves and food started to fall off the 'table'. 

After a few minutes, the screaming of weirdboys subsided and the earthquake started to fade away, the Warboss crying out in anger "Damn it! What in Gorkz name did you zogzing idiotz do thiz time?!"

The weirdboy from the Stonemaulz shrugged before answering "I don't know, he messed my curse up. You guys have some really clean floors."

The ... victorious(?) weirdboy announced as they pulled the blindfold off their head completely, rather then just wearing it like a bandana "Heck yes! And now we are tied!"

"What do you mean you don't know?! What did you do?!" 

"I don't-" there was a sudden flash of light that blinded the recording for a moment alongside a roar of thunder. When the video returned, several of the orks were dead, smoking from something that had killed them. Some of the dead (and a few of the alive) were actively on fire. Observation of wounds suggested that all targets had been struck by lightning. There wasn't a storm.

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[h2][color=007236]Recording from Servo-Skull #9532
Mission: Observe Orkish 'Mekboys' creating orkish weaponry.
Video: #12[/color][/h2]    

The workshop of the Mekboy of the Twisted Blade clan was more of a sweatshop for the smaller greenskins called Gretchen then a proper factoria, with the so called Mekboy serving the role of taskmaster. Some would be assigned to the production of screws, nails, nuts and bolts and other crude metal creations, others would be assigned to straightening out pipes or hammering out scrap metal to create clips to put bullets into. The third group would be assigned to create stocks out of whatever was on hand for the task. 

The fourth group and the one that the Mekboy tended to yell at and abuse the most were the ones that had to put everything together in order to create the clan's guns. All they literally did was take the items that the other groups were producing and hammering or 'gluing' it all together in order to make something that was vaguely in the shape of a firearm. 

The fact that beyond the hammering or gluing, nothing was actually connected to anything in a meaningful way meant absolutely nothing, as despite the fact that the clip was hammered into the 'barrel' without any means for the nails that were packed inside to actually leave the clip or the fact that the trigger was more or less glued on without being connected to anything close to an internal mechanism, the Mekboy was still able to pick up the abomination of metal, aimed it at a Gretchen that had been tied to a pole for the purposes of target practice and actually fired off several shots. 

They then proceeded to beat the gretchen that had made the 'gun' because the sights were off, since none of the shots actually hit the target.

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Many recordings were being processed by Rik as he openly walked towards the nearby greenskin outpost. Each one an example of Orkish stupidity, cruelty or the sheer insanity of their existence. Each one making his blood boil as rage started to grow. 

It was a minor orkish outpost and Rik was alone, outside of some servo-skulls that were following at a safe distance. He was unarmed and unarmored, naked from the waist up and with what implants and additions had been added to his form over time either removed or turned off... through he did leave himself with those that had a more passive effect, such as his replacement limbs or those that monitored his vitals and recording equipment. 

The calculations running through his mind for the battle to come were not optimized to the task of the extermination of the outpost and there was a part of him that honestly disliked the fact that he was using plans that had improvisation as a fundamental component, but it was an important part of the test and thus, he would tolerate it. 

Ever since he was able to understand the teachings of his adopted mother, he had known that his biological body was the result of genetic engineering so incredibly advanced that even now, when he ran tests and tried to uncover the mysteries of his own flesh and blood, Rik couldn't help but be reminded of the saying 'Any technology advanced enough comes across as magic to those who do not understand it'. He would have loved nothing more then to obsessively dive into the mystery of his own creation, but there was simply too much that needed to be done to do so. 

This test was less about trying to uncover the inner mystery of the self as it was about discovering the limits of the self. A field test to see what he could do without the assistance of technology or even weaponry... well, almost. Some exceptions had to be made, such as his replacement limbs, but such things couldn't be helped under the circumstances; Hobbling into battle on one leg [i]might[/i] have been more organic, but it may have sewed the results more heavily. Besides, those limbs were as much apart of his being as his actual flesh and blood at this point. 

Implants had also been disabled for the purposes of this test... including those that allowed for emotional regulation. It was way he was watching the archived recordings of the greenskins; Because of all the emotions he could feel, fury would be the most helpful to his biological brain for the purposes of what was about to happen. 

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It was... hard to put into words what happened next.

Everything was like a blur... but at the same time he remembered it all in clear, perfect detail. Completely in control of his own actions and yet... out of control all the same. The idea of stopping had never even occurred to him at the time. 

He remembered grabbing the gretchen and throwing it directly into the open maw of the leaping squiq hard enough to force it to close its mouth long enough for him to punch it through the top of its head, grab and handful of its matter and using the corpse to block an axe strike. He remembered grabbing that ork and using the dull shiv that one of the dead gretchen had tried to use and slammed it into its chest and neck again and again in a sloppy, painful fashion because he wanted the ork to feel the pain before he jerked it to use it as a meat-shield against a spray of bullets... then as a projectile in order to knock the gunner down.

He remembered breaking the ork with a flamer's arm and forcing it in different directions, ignoring the attempts by the screaming greenskin to free itself from his grasp as he made it pull the trigger several times to roast his companions before bending the arm towards his own face. 

He also remembered breaking the arm of that ork with the power 'klaw', forcing the metal limb towards his head before grasping the claw itself and pushing on it until the straining motors trying to keep it open finally failed, snapping shut and crushing the head of its owner. He remembered the looks of fear and pain in their voices and eyes in their final moments and felt the hatred he felt for all Orks proclaim that this wasn't enough... that he needed to kill [i]all[/i] of them. 

And he remembered hearing something coming up behind him and instinct being faster then thought for just one moment before his fist shattered the servo-skull that had drifted too close.

That was the moment where he stopped and turned on the emotional regulation implants again so he could properly examine the hatred, the sense of self justification for a slower kill just to see the target in agony as they died, the need for more victims in earnest and apply logic and true calculation to what the outcome would be if he allowed them to drive him forward.

Mankind had long associated anger with that of fire. Rik could see why; Both could carry someone through the harshest and darkest of events. Both requiring a degree of care-taking in order to continue burning and even after it was believed to have long died down, cinders and embers could be stoked to start it anew. But they could also both go out of control in an indiscriminate blaze, consuming everything around it and leaving nothing but ash in its wake. 

Hate... was different. Many humans believed that hate and anger were fundamentally the same thing but as Rik found himself breathing heavily for reasons other then the physical actions he had just taken, he knew at his core that it was different. Hate had [i]weight[/i] to it that simple anger didn't. It was like a black hole, pulling everything around it towards it to be consumed and only being visible via witnessing what was currently circling the event horizon. Hate consumed until only it remained, alone in the empty darkness... and that would be the fate that awaited him if he followed that path. 

The Orks would have simply been the start. 

They needed to die, but not because he hated them. They would die because their existence was a danger to all around them and if they were not stopped, they would be all that would remain. 

Quietly, alone, a blood soaked Rik began the process of scooping up all the pieces of the broken servo-skull. It would be tricky, but far from impossible to put it back into working order... even if it would never be the same as it was. But while he couldn't undo the mistake he had made completely, he would still try to make things right.