Chapter 7: Da Boyz Get Jealous
The Grot-sized battle suit was a hit, a chaotic, clanking, scrap-metal-covered hit. Gnash, practically inseparable from his new toy, spent his days showing off his enhanced strength and generally making a nuisance of himself in the most entertaining way possible. The other Grots clamored for their own suits, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of envy and ambition. Even some of the Orks started to take notice, grunting with grudging admiration as Gnash effortlessly lifted scrap piles that would have strained their own muscles.
Tony, or rather, Stikk, knew he was onto something big. The battle suit wasn't just a fun toy; it was a force multiplier. It turned the weakest members of the WAAAGH! into something resembling actual warriors. And with enough suits, he could potentially create a Grot army capable of rivaling the Orks themselves.
He expanded his workshop, recruiting more Tinkerz and scrounging for more materials. He refined the battle suit design, making it lighter, faster, and more durable. He added new features, like crude but effective ranged weapons and enhanced communication systems. He even started experimenting with different types of armor, using everything from salvaged vehicle plating to repurposed squig hides.
But as his operation grew, so did the scrutiny. The Orks, naturally suspicious of anything that wasn't loud, violent, or immediately edible, began to take a closer look at what Stikk was doing.
One particularly large and ornery Ork, a Nob named Krusha, took a special interest in the battle suits. Krusha was a traditionalist, a firm believer in the Ork way of doing things: smashing things first, asking questions later, and relying on brute strength above all else. He saw Stikk's inventions as a threat to the natural order, a sign of weakness and un-Orkiness.
"What's all dis, Stikk?" Krusha growled, stomping into the workshop, his voice shaking the corrugated metal walls. "You makin' toys for da runts? You think dese little suits are gonna make 'em strong like us Boyz?"
Tony stood his ground, his small frame radiating an unexpected aura of confidence. "They're not toys, Krusha," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "They're… enhancements. They make the Grots more useful. More efficient. They can carry more scrap, build faster, and fight harder."
Krusha scoffed. "Fight harder? Ha! A Grot in a tin can ain't gonna scare nobody. Dey still runts. Still weak."
"Maybe," Tony conceded. "But a Grot in a battle suit can carry more dakka. Can shoot more accurately. And can survive longer on the battlefield."
He gestured to Gnash, who was standing proudly in his battle suit, flexing his metal-clad arms. "Show him, Gnash."
Gnash, eager to prove his worth, charged at a nearby pile of scrap metal, smashing through it with ease. He then unleashed a volley of shots from his suit's integrated shoota, blasting holes in a nearby wall.
Krusha watched, his eyes narrowing. He couldn't deny that the battle suit was effective. But he still didn't like it. It felt… wrong. It felt like cheating.
"Dat's still not da Ork way," he said, his voice low and menacing. "We don't need no fancy machines. We got our muscles. We got our teeth. We got our WAAAGH!"
"And what happens when you're up against someone with bigger muscles, sharper teeth, and a louder WAAAGH!?" Tony countered. "You need an edge. You need something that gives you an advantage."
"We get stuck in," he screamed. Krusha's logic was more about showing off physical superiority. He swung at Gnash, who was too slow to react. Luckily Tony got between them and took the hit.
Krusha staggered back, surprised. He hadn't expected the little Grot to stand up to him. "You got guts, Stikk," he admitted, rubbing his chin. "But guts ain't enough. You still messin' with things you don't understand."
With that, Krusha stormed out of the workshop, leaving Tony and his Tinkerz shaken but undeterred. Tony rubbed his sore jaw and looked at the concerned faces of his Grot assistants.
"Don't worry," he said, forcing a smile. "He's just jealous. He knows we're onto something special."
But deep down, Tony knew that Krusha's visit was a warning. The Orks were growing suspicious of his activities. And if he wasn't careful, they might shut him down before he could finish what he had started. The situation was becoming more delicate, more dangerous. He needed to tread carefully, to balance innovation with tradition, and to convince the Orks that his inventions were not a threat, but an asset. He knew he would. It was a genius-level intellect. It would all fall into place.