Planet WAAAGH (Hulk/Warhammer 40,000)

[The Grim Squeaker]

Planet WAAGH
The Incredible Hulk/Warhammer 40,000



The Location: Geo-synchronous orbit above the Planet Earth, S.H.I.E.L.D Defensive station Arch-angel class No 01, primary control center.

The Hulk wiped the smear of crushed metal & oil from his massive forehead with an equally over-sized palm.

"Stupid machine, thought it could grow stronger than Hulk, thought it could think Hulk away, just like puny Banner."

The Hulk lumbered over the "corpse" that had once been an adaptive S.H.I.E.L.D A.I robot and through the disintegrating space station that now, without a guiding consciousness was spasming in its death-throes. That hardly mattered to him, since mere bursts of poisonous gas, corrosive coolant, superheated flame, electrified surfaces and rapid depressurization could not stop the unstoppable, couldn't hurt the indestructible, could not hinder The Mighty Hulk.

Still, even he would need to breathe eventually, so he lumbered on, a juggernaut smashing through any and all obstacles in his path, through titanium wall after titanium wall towards the escape shuttle Fury had told him about before sending him to destroy the rogue A.I. All he wanted to do now was to go back to Earth where maybe he would earn some respite for himself and "puny Banner."

'For what?'

Hulk spat a wad of green phlegm that melted through a metal lock.

'So that you can be alone again? Eating insects and mushrooms in the desert?"

Hulk smashed through door after door as if they were made of tissue or flesh rather than 150cm thick steel, trying to ignore the voice in his head. Unsuccessfully.

' So you can feed squirrels and fawns in a forest? So you can grub for Acorns & mushrooms in the forests?'

"Shut UP!"

Hulk's shout would have inspired terror in any living being unfortunate enough to hear it, were it not for the fact that the depressurization had reached the point that vacuum precluded his voice carrying beyond his lips.

'So you can hurt or kill the few beings that still don't want to kill you? "Hulk need no-one" indeed, What about Jones, your dear cousin Jennifer....'

Hulk ripped the airlock door of its hinges as if it were leaning rather then welded into the stations walls, his mouth wording silent (If simple) obscenities.

' So you can kill your dear Betty all over again?'

Air billowed around the Hulk as he entered the shuttle's interior allowing his voice to be heard, and to be heard so as to shake the ship to its foundations; "-HUT! U-... Wait, Banner always "says" we when we think of Betty. You're not Banner, and you're not one of my other selves. Who Are YOU?!"

'I'd hoped to convince you peacefully so that this wouldn't be necessary. Look to the view-screen and We'll explain, and for what it's worth - We-I'm sorry'.

Four men appeared on the main computer screen of the shuttle - Men known to Bruce Banner as Reed Richard, Charles Xavier, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange.

To the Hulk they were often thought of as: Stretchy-man (Mister Fantastic), Silly little bald man (Professor X), Metal-head (Iron Man) & Magician (Doctor Strange). To both Bruce Banner and his alter ego they had often been thought of as allies if not even friends at times. At least up until now.

Now they told him that he was "A Monster", "Dangerous," a beast, "savage," uncontrollable, "a menace to all life on Earth." They ignored the many times he had saved the world that so hated and despised. They told him that he was being exiled, banished, relocated to "a distant planet" one empty of living life. They said that it was for the benefit of life on Earth and that they were also thinking of "His own good." They said that they were his friends.

They said that they were doing this for the sake of their planet.

The shuttle bumped out of dock with the disintegrating station and its long distance engines jerked violently into life, its coned nose pointed away from the glistening, blue-green life bearing orb that was Earth and towards a distant star and desolate brown planet.

Hulk was angry.

The interior of the shuttle and walls protecting the engines and navigation controls were heavily fortified, laced with titanium and even secondary adamantium, force-fields capable of blasting a man into ash in a millisecond, and had the further reinforcements of wards of magical protection, polarity-reversed neutronic Graviton particles, psychic fields of antipathy and all the other precautions laid in wait for the Hulk by the so-called Illuminati.

But Hulk was angry.

The shuttle was now in mid transition, any damage to its engines now could send it careening out of its flight path and towards time, space and places unknown, but Hulk did not care for that.

For Hulk Was ANGRY.

The Hulk ripped at the shuttle's interior, reducing it to shreds, ignoring the pathetic defenses that burnt at his skin and melted bone & muscle, ignoring the red alarm consoles and blaring klaxons that sounded as the shuttle careened out of its route through dimensions and fluctuating Warp fields towards a planet.

The Wrong planet.

It crashed, violently leaving a trail of debris a quarter mile wide and 3 miles long, depositing its cargo turbulently into a crater of his own.

The creatures were small, the colour of rotting cheese. They scurried towards the crash site yammering to each other and gawked at the huge green giant that lay sprawled in a smoking, dust filled crater.

"Wazzzzat?"

"Dunnow"

"Lets Eats IT!"

"Yaaayzz!""Yaaayzz!""Yaaayzz!""Yaaayzz!"

The foremost of them (it being taller by half an inch than the others and possessor of the most magnificent proboscis) approached the body, its massive, sensitive nostrils bared.

"Smells like a humie covered with our fat git of a boss" It tittered before taking a bite from the Jade titans elbow.

The Hulk's eyes snapped open as he felt the thing pierce his skin before slapping at it, reducing it to a greasy smear on the ground.

Its bold companions saw this and undertook the sensible act in such circumstances -

"YAAAAA, Ruuuuuun!!"

"EEEEEEEE"

"Every Gretchin for himself"

"I don't want to do anything for 'himself'"

"Dat means you, Fwit!"

"Then Every Gretchin For Meeeeee...."

-to run in a panicked frenzy in every direction possible.

The Hulk ignored them, he was far too weak and drained from his travails to bother with a pack of what looked like miniature greenish-yellow Mole-men. He slowly began to rise to his feet, tottering before collapsing in a sprawled heap.

This fact went unnoticed by the panicking gretchin, but not by their approaching master, the two and a half meter tall, heavily muscled, pot-bellied Ork Gargoz Quick-Whip of the Goffs Ork clan.

"Wellz, Wellz," Gargoz grunted, "looks like I gots me a new slave and some teef".


To be continued...

[Shroom Man 777]

MOAR! Seriously!

[Cosmic Average]

Very interesting, but Hulk's always called Dr. Strange 'Magician' in the Defenders.

Oh, and that Gretchin exchange was hilarious. Hope you update.

[Ford Prefect]

If Hulk waaaaghs, I will present you with a medal.

[Coalition]

Looks good so far, please continue.

[The Grim Squeaker]

Very interesting, but Hulk's always called Dr. Strange 'Magician' in the Defenders.

Fixed, thanks for the comments and reviews everyone:D .

[The Grim Squeaker]

Darkness. Light. Shadows. A blurred figure, slowly touching his lips and opening his mouth with small, slender fingers. Hulk closed his eyes again and waited for the cobwebs to pass.

"Beh-ty?"

He opened his eyes fully to the sight of a huge warty nose pressed up into his eye as a warty Gretchin pried at his teeth with a rusty dagger. Hulk's bone-rattling roar sent the Gretchin flying, though not without a clutched pearly-white prize.

"Wellz, Wellz, Wellz. Looks to me likes me new slave, da sleepin beaut's woken up <Har Har>".

The Slave-master Gargoz lumbered into view, a foul corpulent mass of blubber and muscle brandishing what looked like a massive, bright red Cat-o-Nine Tails with carving knives (Or 'Choppas' as they were affectionately known as among Orkoids universe-wide) attached to its tips.
Hulk looked at the creature with loathing in his eyes (anyone who called him a slave was not high in his list of "Things not to destroy"), though also with powerful energy binders on his limbs.

"Release me now or I will rip your arms apart, twist your legs off, squash your head like a grape and then i'll eat whatever is left"

Whatever reaction Hulk was expecting, the slaver bursting into a deep rumbling laugh was not it.

"So yod gibe an Ork a 'lobe tap' would ya? <Har Har Har> A puuny runtty weenie maggot liks yoo, a runt o' a green bellied Yoof o' a Hummie like yaz? <har, har, har>.
"Just ya try it ya Snotling lovin Wuss"

Gargoz kicked a nearby Snotling (a tiny wretch of a thing that made even a Gretchin look like a Warboss by comparison) impelling it into opening Hulk's binders with a rusty metal key.

"Mizzable Slaveboyz" It squeaked before getting splattered into the ground as Hulk stepped towards Gargoz. He took a step, stumbled, swayed then rose, a slow burning flameignitted in his eyes as he took another surer step towards the fool who had dared impugn on his strength before staggering under a renewed wave of weakness.

"The Crash... Something happened in the ship's crash, maybe the radiation or-"

Hulk's train of thought was violently derailed by Gargoz's fist slamming into his gut then a knee rising into his gut as he began to fall.
Gargoz held him up with one hand, a sneer on his face.

"HAR! I'ze nevah seen a puniah hummie than ya, not even your tasty little pink grubs. What, ya'r coloured Green koz ya wannta be more like us Boyz?" A nother knee slammed into Hulk's midriff. "Koz ya wannta be more like the Strongest ob de Tuff?" A fist plowed into Hulk's temple. "Koz ya wanna be more like da Orks? WAAAGH!"
He slammed his weapon into Hulk's back, each tail attached Choppa raking long, bloody furrows in Hulk's back & side.

"Dat woz me just goin up ta Two on ya wid me 12 Tailed Squig . What a Puunie weakling <Har Har>".

SLAM - A huge green fist propelled by sheer fury slammed into Gorgaz's hand, smashing the "Squig" out of his hand.

"Hulk Not WEAK!".

Gargoz laughed again[/], a foul odour of rotting meat and bones washing over the small slave pen (Causing a cowering Gretchin to faint after getting a full dose up the nostril).

"Dats more likes it, ya may be puuny buts yar bester dan most puuny humies. Now'z ya comin wib da rest ob da scum to meets Da Cheef wi me N' Da rest ob da Slaverboyz".

Hulk spat a lump of green blood as he faced the Slave-master.

"You and what army of "Boys"?"

Gorgaz smiled as a dozen lean & hungry looking Orks (Though shorter than Gorgaz himself) came into the room brandishing large, unwieldy (if threatening looking) guns. (Or 'Shootas' as they were lovingly called)

"Dez Boyz. Now gets movin Greeny <Har-Har-Har-Har>".

"Lives to fight another day" was not a saying familiar to the Hulk but it was to Bruce Banner. The Hulk staggered through the maze of dank corridors, towards "Da Big Arena".


Many miles away, "Da Cheef", or as he was known to his unfortunate enemies, The Ork Warlord Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, the 6 meter tall paragon of all that was Orky entered the Hut. His "bodyguard" of 33 'Nobz' waited outside Da Hut and whiled the time by testing their new Fasty shoot Shootas on each others heads.

Within its shadowy interior and Escher-ian contours dwelled the biggest (and craziest) of the Oddboyz - Mekboyz, Weirdboyz, Painboyz, Techboyz and Buildboyz - All Boyz labouring together (When they didn't try to eat, kill or experiment on each other) for the greater advancement of Orkydom (In Ghazghkull words. They merely said "Lets ave some fun n blow stuff up bester!").

There in the laboratories they concocted potions from the thousands of bright coloured (often via artificial colouring) & bubbling bottles, flasks, beakers, flagons, basins, vials, test-tubes glasses & goblets of chemicals, metals, acids, alkalines, genetic material extracts, mud, grass, feces, blood, hairs, Ork skin and stranger substances from beyond the ken of any Ork. (That is, beyond Mud, meat and Green).

Ghazghkull ignored all of this and the various toxic fumes that wafted in clouds throughout the corridors of the labyrinthean complex as he searched for his pet "scientist".

"Herr Doktor Valdemart!" Called the Titan of Orkydom, his voice echoing through the corridors and bouncing around them until they reached the amputated ears of their intended recipient.
A door slid open in one of the walls and an Ork jumped out. He spun around, pulled off his black face mask (A tubed contraption that covered his head and resembled the mating of a caterpillar with a Catachan death ant), spotted the 6 meter tall Ghazghkull standing in front of him then saluted martially with his hands outstretched.

"Javol, I am heer Mein Fuhrer. Vat are your commandz her Totenkopf?"

Ghazghkull repressed the primitive (If classically Orky) urge to kick the runty 170 Centimetre tall freak. "Oddboyz" he sighed mentally.

"Herr Doktor. I have bought you a number of my finest Goffs born Knobs for the experiments". The Warlords voice was cool, cultured and almost refined, a strange thing from a towering metal headed killing machine who bore a massive tower of Space marine heads on his back.

"Eexcellente, Zis shall be of ze greatezt of zuses in creating Ze Ubermensche!"

"Sup-Ork you mean".

"Ja, Ja , Ze Uber-Krork. At verst ve zall tezt ze newezt Veapons of de Huge extinction on zem".

"Yes, Yes" waved Ghazghkull, accidentally punching a hole in the Ferrocrete wall.
"But what about the bio-weapons I told you to develop? The plagues and further improvements to the control Fungus?"

The Doktor adjusted his spectacles and donned his monocle.

"Ze plagues have resulted in ze creation of a peerless infiltrator, a deadly killing machine - Behold!"

Out of the shadows it emerged - A gretchin but no normal Gretchin!

"Why is that Gretchin bright yellow?" Sighed Ghazghkull.

"Zis is der great result of my viruses, Ze Air marshal Tycholanix, ze Virus which I released to ze vild"

"You. Did WHAT?... Continue". Again Ghazghkull forced himself to repressn the urge to rip out his metal plated head-cover for use as a beating stick, instead he lifted the Gretchin with his claw and examined it.

"Ze virus changes the colourations of the infected to ze primary colour of True Orkyaness, Yellow! And it changes ze speech patterns to closer match zose of ze lesser vaces to faciliate zer Extinction under de glorious boots of our mazter Race".
He saluted Ghazghkull again, hitting himself in the head from the enthusiasm of his salutes. Ghazghkull showed his opinion by swallowing the Tych' whole and pointedly scratching his long teeth while examining the pot bellied Doktor.

"Ah... Ze Eugenic zlave race mind control program for zuperior Ork zlaves has shown an improvement in zee pain reception levelz by az many timez over az you are greater than the leaderz of ze lezzer races! All zat remains now iz to find test subjectz to be implanted vit ze fungus to test its ability to control ze slaves and to impart pain upon their vortless hides at the veleaze of ze slightezt of zmells zenzitive to ze fungus!"

"What's wrong with the slaves used in the gladiatorial Arenas?"

"Mein Gotts, ve have fighting zlaves in ze Zlave Arenas!?!. Joo are a true Geunius Mein Fuhrer!".

"Of course I am, theres a reason as to why I am The Big Boss and warlord of these hordes". (Idiot he thought to himself).
-----------------------------------------------

Also thanks to Rye for helping me proofread the first part

[Shroom Man 777]

Dear god. Orkz! Fucking Orkz! Stupid Orkz with germanian accents!

[The Grim Squeaker]

Dear god. Orkz! Fucking Orkz! Stupid Orkz with germanian accents!

It iz Ze German accent vundebar child. For Ze glory of the Aryork Race!

(That and, considering how much I suck at Ork-speech an excuse to avoid it via a crazy oddboy is always welcome )

[The Grim Squeaker]

Thraka stomped through the underground hallways that led to "Da Big Arena". Hidden passageways were a concept that would be literally unthinkable to most Ork Bosses, suggesting as it did that they feared something, but Thraka had not eluded everything from Space Marine Chapter masters to Commissar Yarrick by leaving things to chance (At least, his own chance). There still lay the possibility of something ambushing him within the labyrinth itself, but its carefully carved dimensions limited passage to anything larger than a tank, and Thraka had worn out his first Power-claw ripping Leman Russ’s asunder.

The Hulk emerged from the humid, narrow corridors into blinding sunlight. A second after his eyes adjusted to the bright white sunlight, he gazed around him.
He had entered a colossal arena, and even he had to admit that it was impressive (If puny compared to what he would have built, were he so inclined and not a drained shadow of his former self).

Ghazghkull entered his huge open palanquin, bionic implants shifting down a spectrum in order to keep his vision at optimal levels, shifting everything from a reddish shade of greenish shade to a dark emerald green. He gazed around at the arena he had won and smiled, massive metallic jaws cutting into the scar tissue of his mouth and releasing drops of green ichor.

The Arena was built in the shape of a huge elongated circle, stretching for over three kilometers from the Slave’s entrance (Hulk’s side) to that of “Da Nobz ‘Ut” (Where Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka surveyed his dominions).
Its walls were a hundred feet tall, and were made of thick slabs of Ferrocrete over a base-structure of a white bone-coloured substance that poked out where the reinforcement had been slip-shod (Or in other words, every three paces or so, Ork workmanship not being renowned for its meticulousness).
Above the walls stretched over a thousand rows of seats, reaching up into the clouds. Once, sophisticated Holographic templates had magnified the view from the arena for even the furthest spectator, but Ork maintenance had left all aspects of this system malfunctioning save for the audio components. All any Boy needed for some fun was a good lot of noise and stomping, spectator sports being a recent and misunderstood invention among the Krork regardless. And due to this, the protective shields that had once protected the spectators from stray blasts or projectiles were now two-way, preventing enthusiastic Orks from joining in the fun all the time.

The floor of the arena itself was a slick, smooth white surface lined with deep groves that led to a central grill (which led to the feeding tanks, ensuring a buoyant, sustainable economy with zero Bloody emissions), although trap doors and weapon emplacements were scattered through it.

At the far end of the Arena stood Da Goff’z table - Huge red tables arrayed one over the other for the close viewing of the biggest and hungriest of the Orks (It also served as the second half of Ghazhkull’s renewable energy policy. Whatever didn’t flow on the arena’s floor was chewed on its tables).
Above the tables stood the gargantuan green palanquin of "Da Cheef", or as he was also known: Warlord Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka.
It was built in the shape of a huge Ork’s head, huge red spotlights projected from its top, massive metal spikes as guard-rails and a powerful shielding system based on its nose, and atop the head sat Thraka (as he did now).

Ghazghkull surveyed the arena and the millions of Orks that filled its ranks and smiled. The warp storms that had kept him and his army of bodyguards trapped on this planet had almost destroyed the cohesion of his force as Ork fought the closest, toughest thing it could find, which in this case was always another Ork. The Pathetic Eldar that had lived here and barely sated his Waaagh’s appetite for a week before they had started biting each others heads off. Then he had found the arena and the massive supply of slaves, and the whispers of Gork & Mork had told him what to do.
The slaves wouldn’t have lasted long against the sheer numbers of his boys, but against each other? They might even show each other mercy and not get killed until their second or even third battle, and if there’s one thing Orks like other than fighting, it’s a good fight.

“Boys!” bellowed Thraka “Let’s get this Bash started! WAAAGH!”
A million Krork throats shouted back ”WAAAGH!”.

Ghazghkull laughed “You’re a puny bunch aren’t ya? I’d bet that one of these puny slaves could do better than you lot”.
Hulk decided to rise to the challenge. “How about this. I’ll break each and every one of your pathetic green skins in half, and then I’ll use your teeth as toothpicks”.
Ghazghkull cocked a bionic ear. “What’s this? Boys, I think that one of the new runty human slaves is trying to speak, look at it, a quarter of the size of your boss and he thinks he can match up to one of you boys? He’s so runty he can barely stand on his feet, it’d be a waste to bother a good Ork with this wretch, so lets feed him to the one thing here runtier than him! Ha Ha”.
Ghazghkull turned to one of the Nobz at his side and spoke quietly, “You, Get down to pit rooms and make sure that the Fungus has been introduced into the filtration systems correctly, and into the slave dormitories. Blast a batch into the arena as well for good measure”.

“Err, Yeah, wat you said Cheef, I’ll blast em so full of fungey they’ll wish they were green!”

While Orkish biological warfare research marched onwards, Hulk was busy searching the arena for whatever was going to kill him.
He felt stronger now, although still horrendously weakened, and Anger was as potent a stimulator as ever. It was hard to focus his rage on whatever it was they wanted him to kill, when what he really wanted to do was leap the miles separating him from the leader of the green things (An act that would have once been child’s play for him) and to rip off his metallic jaw before –
Hulk’s reveries were interrupted by a thick wave of wet, greenish-yellow “smoke” that poured out of the arena’s trap-doors, (now locked) entrances and grilles. It rolled over him, filling his nostrils with a wet, organic stink and his lungs with the moldy spores of the fungus.
Hulk took a deep breath and smashed his hands together in a thunderous CLAP that blew the cloud away from him, and disrupted the blurred figure that had run at him through its cover. The shadowy being was blown backwards like a leaf, but recovered in mid air and landed on its feet, legs outstretched and arms raised forward. The creature was taller than a human with long limbs and ears, lithe and slender to an inhuman degree, its black shiny armour covering it like a second skin, but its grip on the long green edged “Cats Claws” it held in each hand was sure and confident.

Hulk had never heard of The Eldar, Dark Eldar or of the deadly acrobat-warriors known as Wyches, or of their fearsome reputation, blinding speed and centuries of experience in deadly gladiatorial combat, but then again, he wouldn’t have cared (And Vice versa for his opponent).

“Foul Krork-spawn, I’ll use your skin as a cloak before playing a symphony of blessed pain on your innards that would do a homunculus proud!” No sooner had the Wych whispered the words in her strange, clear voice than she sprinted towards him, her body close to the ground as she lowered her profile before lunging for Hulk’s stomache.
Hulk couldn’t help but admire the tiny thing for attacking him, but he was not in the mood for negotiations as he sent a massive fist forward in a low jab meant to protect his innards.
The Wych had been expecting this, as she sumsersaulted over the Hulk’s head, slashing at his nech as she flipped through the air and as she landed, stabbed him again deep in the back. Hulk roared, but it was from pain, not anger. It was not of anger, for Hulk had been expecting this, and now that he had tasted the metal of his foe, he knew what to do. And what he did was simple: he spun around with the blades still attached to his now clotted wounds and kicked out at the Wych. The Wych easily bent over backwards to avoid his leg, but was left open to his fists. He slammed her into the ground with a crushing two-fisted blow, one that would have turned a human to a carcass, and left the Wych broken on the ground.

Slowly, Hulk took hold of the claws on his back and with a grunt, ripped them out, before flinging them next to the Wych. He snapped his head sideways with a sharp “Krack”.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Said the Hulk, facing the million strong wave of green Orks that stared at him through the shimmering shielded barrier.

The Orks who had been watching the fight with enjoyment let loose with a caterwalling of cheering, shouts and gunfire (usually all at once, or at anyone doing only one of the three).
“Green Runt! Green Runt! Green Runt!” Cheered the Orks.

The Orks hated anything that was Unorky, and a big green thing that wasn’t an Ork was definetly Un-Orky, but if there was anything that Orks hated more than that which was Un-Orkydox, it was puny little Eldar or brown-noses (Tau) or anything else smaller, weaker, smarter and less mean than them.