Chapter 3: The Green Star.
Hulk | Ork–held moon of Dakka IV
The surface of Dakka IV was alive with madness.
Gunfire barked like laughter. Smoke rose in swirling columns, and the air itself throbbed with the chant of countless Orks, their guttural cries forming a rhythm that could shake a planet.
"WAAAGH! WAAAGH! WAAAGH!"
Each bellow rolled through the rusted plains– a chorus of chaos, life, and violence all at once. Scrap–fortresses rumbled. Engines screamed. In the sky, lightning crackled green, tearing open the void above the battlefield.
The Weirdboyz – twisted Ork psykers were gathered near a pit filled with molten metal, their eyes burning like embers. They shook and drooled, channeling raw psychic power until the air hummed.
"Oi, Grotsnappa!" yelled one. "Wot's dat in da sky?"
"Looks loike da sun's gettin' angrier, zog it!"
"Sun can't get angry, ya git! Only Bosses can!"
"Den dat means..." the Weirdboy's grin split ear to ear – "...a new Boss iz comin'!"
The light above them exploded.
A comet of green energy slammed into the plains with the force of a god's fist.
Metal bent. The world roared.
When the smoke cleared, a crater gaped open – and at its center stood a figure.
Towering.
Burning.
Breathing.
The Hulk.
His skin glowed faintly green, veins crackling with otherworldly energy, dust falling from his shoulders like ash. Around him, the air stank of ozone and raw fury.
One Ork stumbled forward, awe–struck.
"It's 'im... DA GREEN STAR!"
The horde went silent for half a second and then erupted.
"DA GREEN STAR!"
"DA GREEN STAR'S WIV US!"
"SMASH DEM, BOSS!"
Hulk blinked, chest heaving. He didn't understand their words but he understood the tone.
They weren't afraid.
They were cheering.
A thousand Orks dropped their weapons and began beating the ground in rhythm. The earth trembled under their excitement.
Hulk turned, looking around at the madness – the laughter, the joy, the sheer insanity of it all.
Something deep inside him, something lonely, something old stirred.
He'd always been the monster. The thing people feared. The weapon others tried to control. But here?
Here they loved him.
He grinned a wide, wild grin that split the smoke.
"...Hulk," he rumbled, thumping his chest, "SMASH."
"WAAAGH!" the Orks screamed in reply.
The Weirdboyz fell to their knees, shaking and chanting:
"DA GREEN STAR SPEAKS!"
"DA GREEN STAR CALLS FER WAAAGH!"
All around him, meks and boyz began firing their guns into the sky in celebration, not even aiming – just celebrating destruction.
An Ork Nob swaggered up to him, bold enough to speak.
"Oi, Big Green Boss! You fight good, yeah? You lead us, we smash all da humies, all da spiky gitz, all da bugs! You an' us biggest WAAAGH in da galaxy!"
Hulk looked down at him. The Ork barely reached his waist.
He thought for a long moment.
He remembered the times he'd been hunted. The looks of fear. The words — monster, danger, weapon.
And now these creatures looked at him with reverence, admiration.
No fear.
Just kinship.
He gave a low chuckle.
"Hulk... not boss," he said, his voice like thunder. "Hulk... smash."
The Ork Nob blinked.
Then roared.
"DAT'S DA BEST KIND OF BOSS!"
The crowd exploded.
"DA GREEN STAR SMASHES! WE SMASH TOO!"
"WAAAGH!!"
And so the horde charged, green fire blazing behind them, led by the being they believed was their prophesied god.
Hulk, at their center, ran with them laughing, bellowing, tearing through tanks and titans alike.
For the first time in his life... He wasn't fighting against something.
He was fighting with someone.
And in the madness of Dakka IV, amidst gunfire, laughter, and the holy war of the Orks, the Hulk, the monster, the curse, the Green Star – felt something he never thought he would.
Belonging.
.
.
.
.
The battlefield burned.
The moon itself trembled beneath the roar of engines and the thrum of thousands of Ork hearts.
Dakka IV became a living storm, a god's heartbeat of metal and rage.
Hulk was in it.
He tore through tanks like paper, wrenched titans from their legs, and hurled them into the void. Every blow left craters, every scream of rage fed the psychic storm that rolled across the green–lit sky.
Orks didn't retreat; they cheered.
Every kill, every explosion, every smash was celebrated like holy scripture.
And through it all, the air pulsed with something ancient. Something growing.
A WAAAGH so powerful it bent the Warp itself.
The Weirdboyz were foaming at the mouth, their heads glowing like lanterns.
"DA GREEN STAR'S ENERGY! IT'S TOO MUCH!"
"DON'T STOP! LET DA MADNESS FLOW!"
They channeled it, screamed it, shaped it and somewhere deep inside the Warp, that storm answered.
Hulk's roar split reality itself.
The green in his veins blazed, turning molten–bright, burning through every cell of his being. He felt it, the weight of thousands of minds chanting in sync with his heartbeat. The rhythm of war. The rhythm of him.
And for the first time, the Hulk wasn't a byproduct of rage.
He was rage.
He was the center of it.
A living god of fury.
—
Far above Dakka IV, Imperial astropaths screamed and convulsed. Their souls blistered under the psychic pressure.
"A new power... green fire in the Immaterium!"
"It grows... it feeds on battle!"
"The Orks, they are not summoning it! It is them!"
The Adeptus Mechanicus declared an emergency lockdown on five neighboring systems.
The Inquisition marked Dakka IV as an anomaly class Exterminatus–level threat.
But it was too late.
Hulk's laughter – raw, primal, joyous echoed through the Warp like a second heartbeat. It reverberated across the stars.
Somewhere in the Eye of Terror, a Daemon Prince paused mid–feast, listening.
"A mortal... shaping emotion into godhood?"
"No," whispered another, "not mortal. Not ours."
Even the Chaos Gods stirred – curious.
Khorne leaned forward from his throne of skulls, molten eyes flickering.
"A creature who fights only for battle's sake..." he rumbled, a grin forming beneath the rivers of blood. "My kind of beast."
But when his gaze pierced the Warp to find Hulk – he saw something alien.
Something not of Chaos.
Not yet, anyway.
For though Hulk's fury was pure, his heart still carried something... human.
A spark of mercy, buried deep.
That spark rejected the Warp's corruption like a flame rejecting ice.
"Interesting," murmured Tzeentch, feathers rippling across dimensions.
"He carries both creation and destruction within the same vessel. Unstable. Uncontrollable. Perfect."
—
Back on Dakka IV, Hulk sat amid the ruins of the moon. Orks danced around him, worshipping the "Green Star."
He didn't understand all of it: their chants, their faith, their endless hunger for war.
But for the first time, he didn't mind being the monster.
He looked up. The sky no, the Warp itself was still open.
He could feel it watching.
"You lookin' for a fight too?" he growled softly, as if to the stars.
For a moment, silence.
Then, thunder.
Distant. Laughing.
Hulk stood.
"Good," he said. "Hulk always fights."
And with that, he leapt a green comet against a bleeding sky straight into another war.
In that moment, somewhere deep within the Immaterium, a name was whispered by Ork and daemon alike:
"Da Green Star... Da WAAAGH–Made–Flesh."
And the Warp trembled not with fear, but anticipation.