“Gargnar, you first,” the order was given, and the heaviest of the three Orks moved forward, lumbering with his heavy shooter to the cavern’s T-intersection. Before he could even turn to look, bolts began tearing through his armor and flesh, spinning him around like a top as he fell into the waste.

The bolter sounded like a jackhammer. The other two Orks were left poorly equipped to deal with the marine, having lost their greatest asset, not necissarily their greatest shot, but their heavy shooter was sitting amongst the sewage.