My head was a mass of pain as I woke to a blinding light. Straps held my entire body to a tough steel table, even my head barely able to shift a few inches to either side. Over my head was a brilliant lamp, so bright I couldn't make out anything beyond the pair of hands that loomed over me, inspecting a small metal object. I tried to speak, but a thick leather and steel gag had been stuffed in my mouth, and call that came out were muffled groans. “Oi, you’z awake, iz yah? Dah Mek didn't pay for any ane-sektic. Bad luck, dere. Bettah bite ‘ard. Dis is gonna sting abit.” The words were enough to make me piss myself. Orks don't care much for pain, so to be told I was about to feel pain, it meant it was gonna be bad.

I don't do well with pain. But I do even worse with the anticipation. Dentists are a nightmare, and I always cramp up. This was a thousand times worse. I couldn't help but struggle against the restraints, fear and anxiety taking control. I thrashed and yelled, but the restraints were built to handle Orks twice my size. My struggles were as useless as a toddler against an adult, and I could only watch as the Ork played with the small gadget. I could barely make out the devices dimensions, which was made worse by my missing eye, which was wreaking havoc with my vision. All I could really tell was that it was a disc-shaped, with a long, nasty spike. Whatever it was the Ork was doing, I wanted nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, given my lack of mobility I had little else to do beyond speculate as to the horrible things that were about to take place.

The minutes dragged on, seeming like hours as the Ork fiddled around with his device. One of his arms was purely cybernetic, with a tiny hand full of precision instruments. A massive claw weapon was hanging off the side on several hinges, looking like it could be swung to replace the tiny hand. The hand was made of a dozen tiny tools, which rotated in and out of position as he picked and poked at the device.

Then, without warning, he grabbed me by the back of the neck, and shoved the spike of the device through my eye cavity. Pain unlike anything I'd ever felt exploded through me. The world turned a violent shade of red as I screamed through the gag, struggling with every fiber of my being to resist the Ork as he twisted and turned the device, spike buried deep in my skull. I felt something I'd never felt before, and hoped never to feel again, the sensation of sharp metal piercing my brain.

If I thought the minutes before felt like forever, then the next few seconds lasted longer by far. Nothing but the pain mattered, my vision exploding in colors I didn't know existed. I have never experienced anything so incredibly nauseating in my life, and likely never would. The pain started to fade slightly, replaced by the feeling of oily tentacles wrapping themselves around my mind. I felt invaded, but it was a good sight better than the pain. I embraced the sickening sensation, using it as a cloak to hide from the pain. It didn't work. Only long, agonizing minutes helped ease the pain, as both the agony and slimy invasion retreated.

As the pain receded, I slowly regained my sense of being, and was able to understand my surroundings. I found myself still strapped down, but now in an upright chair. A new pain registered, this time on my right side, where I saw sparks flying, and the hum of machinery nearly deafening me. I could barely move my head, enough to see the Ork Mek fiddling with the thick metal limb that sat where Ork flesh once rested. My muscled arm was now replaced with a cybernetic limb, the sight of which was both incredibly disturbing, and endlessly fascinating. The pain was intense, but my Mek instincts and human curiosity made me want to examine the construction. And when I learned that doing so helped mute the pain, I put my entire being into focusing passed the pain, and on every rivet being made.

I had a front row seat for the most incredible creation I had ever seen, and I soaked in knowledge like a wet sponge. I saw how to properly handle the pivoting gears for the shoulder, elbow, and wrists to prevent moving parts from catching on themselves. How to grease gears without using too much, and clogging the entire affair. How to wrap and cover wire to prevent fraying from all the moving parts. And most importantly, I learned that there is never enough room for all the Kustomization that comes to mind. I watched with both despair and relief as various weapons and gadgets were removed from the pre-made limb, each tossed to the side with the shake of a head. I watched a twin lazer cannon be ripped out to make room for more whirring gizmos so as to make the wrist and fingers more dexterous. I nearly cried when a flamethrower was grudgingly removed to increased torque power of the wrist and elbow. And I sighed with sheer relief as a tiny Fungus Beer auto-brewery was finally pulled, the last Kustomization being frowned upon by both me and the Mek in question.

Finally, all that was left was a barebones arm. And with a few fixes and tests, was finally deemed ready for operation. Another Ork was called over, this one bearing a brown smock and a massive mechanical arm, covered in various precision instruments and vials of green and blue liquids. The Ork hummed as he surveyed the completed work, then with a quick motion, shoved several needles into my arm, causing another wave of pain that crippled all motion in my upper body. I could only stare in horror and wonder as the doctor Ork proceeded to cut through the flesh of my shoulder, and rivet and wire the mechanical arm onto my exposed flesh. Finally, with another injection of liquid, sensation returned to me, along with an incredibly odd and slightly uncomfortable feeling coming from the new limb.

The straps holding me down were removed, allowing me to stand and test the new limb. It was very odd, moving different to my expectations. But rather than make the minute adjustments I expected as I made several comments on the differences, I received a smack to the head, and orders to “deal wif it.” I obeyed, but with plans to make the adjustments myself. Somehow, I just knew I could do it better.

My practice time was quickly interrupted as I was smacked over the head, then lead out of what could only be called an operating room from hell, and out into the street. A massive Trukk sat next to the large building, and with only a small bit of prodding, I boarded the immense creation. I hopped up and down like a schoolboy in the back seat, eyeing the small ports for weaponry that were manned by several Grots. Still hiding from the pain behind the focus of curiosity, I couldn't help but personally examine everything. A portion of the engine lay exposed near the back, and without a word, I hunched over the machine, poking and prodding at it with my new arm.

A very heavy smack to my head, followed by several seconds of dazed confusion, helped remind me of the rules of riding in someone else's car. Don’t touch anything. I huffed and pouted at the treatment, sitting in the back with my arms folded like a toddler whose toy had been taken away. But still, my thirst for knowledge was too strong to resist, and moments later, I was inspecting the tiny turrets that housed machine guns and Grots. From afar of course, so as to avoid the entirely undeserved smacks. The construction filled me with grand ideas, involving massive rockets covered in turrets, and manned by Grots as they flew to their inevitable explosion deep in the ranks of the enemy. Truly, a glorious creation that simply MUST be brought into existence at the earliest opportunity.

Our trip was cut short, much to my displeasure, and I was summarily marched out of the Trukk, and into some sort of yellow structure, whose size I was unable to determine, being hounded as I was by my bodyguards. Interestingly enough, one of the bodyguards also removed a familiar rocket from the Trukk, its shiny blue and grey plating a starch contrast to the dull, rough exteriors of most every Orkish construction. The presence of my invention filled me with speculation. But the speculation was quickly abandoned as it allowed the pain to start seeping back in. I returned to my almost carefree sense of self as we started long trek through cramped hallways. The place was absolutely filled to the brim with working Grots and the occasional Ork, all working away with an enthusiasm I hadn’t seen back in the industrial area. Massive steam pipes, roaring furnaces, and conveyor belts delivering vast quantities of ammunition to who knows where. It had all the look and feel of what I could only envision as a massive tank, if such a large construction could actually move.

Several minutes, and many, many stairs later, I was lead into the most beautiful room I had ever seen. A massive shrine, completely dedicated to war, filled the gigantic enclosure. Skulls, skeletons, ruined weaponry, and all sorts of memorabilia filled the room, hanging from metal chains or displayed on cluttered tables. And at the center, stood the most immense Ork I’d ever seen. I didn’t have much time to stare, as I was shoved to the floor from behind. I tried to stagger to my feet, only for someone to pull me up into the air. I hung like a wet rag, dangling above the hulking form of the previously mentioned Ork. His hands dwarfed my head, able to crush it like a ripe fruit should the heavily armored creature feel the urge.

My eyes were captivated by a force that exuded from the Ork, an unbreakable will and charisma that held my utmost attention, silencing the pain as easily as crushing a Gretchin between your teeth. The Ork sized me up, a look of disgust and disappointment that nearly crushed my soul, as if my very being was unworthy. Never had I experienced such a religious moment, if it could be called such. And when I was tossed to the ground, I nearly wept. The Ork was handed my rocket, which looked almost like a child’s toy in the monstrous creature’s hands. The Ork inspected it with a keen, cybernetic eye, the mechanical augment matching my own. The look of mild interest restored my hope and revitalizing me in a way that went beyond my understanding. “Bah. Small, but dat will change. Put ‘im on dah Stormyboyz Mek team, undah Mek Hedsnagga. I ‘spect big fings from dem for dah Waaaagh! I’ll show dat git Thrakka how you’z ‘andle dem oomies.”

Not only did the words fill me with purpose, but a subtle force behind the words reached into my very being, tugging loose bits of knowledge, the unstoppable power of Ork belief physically altering me on a biological level. I might have worried about the strange tingle all across my body, but such thoughts were impossible. All my being was focused on the Ork, admiration filling me to the brim at the mere sight of his perfectly shaped features, covered in cybernetic enhancements and a suit of armor that practically hummed with power and deadly force. The masterfully crafted armor was painted black and red and covered in almost perfectly fitted plating, with not a single hole or loose rivet, something I had never seen in Orkish construction beyond my own creation.

My adoration was cut short as my face met metal once again as an Ork kicked me to the ground to grovel before the godly being before me, but rather than feel resentment, I felt as if I’d merely been reminded of my proper place. The once overwhelming sense of pain was forced into a corner under the weight of purpose the Ork had given me. As if I’d been visited by a God, and given a calling that only I could fulfill. I would find this Hedsnagga, and create for him marvels beyond Orkish comprehension, all in service to the Waaaagh!

Such thoughts would soon lead to the creation of a monster that would be known far and wide as Deff from Abuv.