The battle was over in minutes, the desert air still thick with the tang of ozone and spent ammunition. As Soldat 1 stood silent amidst the fallen patrol, a deep, unsettling tremor began in the sand. Cracks spiderwebbed across the dunes, orange light filtering from unseen depths. Gradually, monstrous segments of corroded metal and twisted cables breached the surface.

The desert night hung heavy, thick with the metallic tang of ozone and the faint, sweet scent of blood. Soldat 1 stood motionless, a sentinel of silent destruction, its optical sensors reflecting the dying embers of a hastily extinguished British patrol. But the silence was a lie, a momentary breath before the storm. A deep, guttural groan, not of engine or metal, but of something ancient and malevolent, vibrated through the cracked earth.

Beneath the swirling sand, a titanic form stirred. Soldat 2, a grotesque mockery of engineering, groaned with the protest of corroded joints and reanimated hydraulics.

With a low, grinding roar, Soldat 2 uncoiled, a leviathan of steel and necromantic power, rising from the earth like a colossal, ancient sand worm, its multi-faceted optics glowing with malevolent purpose. The true horror of the Africa Corpse was only just beginning to stir.

It was buried deep, its lower half lost to the thirsty dunes, its massive body tilted at a perilous 45-degree angle. Yet, with horrifying resolve, its immense, blocky arms, already scarred by the elements and unnaturally decayed, began to claw. Sand erupted in cascading waves, illuminated by the sickly orange glow of the setting sun, as the mech heaved, a monstrous beast trying to free itself from its sandy tomb. Exposed wires sparked, internal lights flickered with a ghastly green, betraying the unnatural life within.

Then, with a hiss of releasing pressure, a hatch on Soldat 2’s upper torso slowly cranked open. From the dark maw, silhouetted against the internal glow, emerged Kommandant Eisenfaust. He was not a man, not anymore. His gaunt face was a roadmap of ancient battles and unholy pacts, his uniform tattered but still bearing the grim insignia of the Africa Corpse.

His eyes, burning with an internal, infernal light, scanned the desolate horizon. He was an undead hero, resurrected for a war far stranger than any he had fought in life, stepping forth from his reanimated war machine.

The Dessicated Fox’s will had stirred them both from their slumber, and the desert would once again run red with the blood of those who dared to oppose the rising tide of the weird war.

With a surge of dark power, Soldat 2’s TAR-29d Gulo Assault Rifle, a relic of forgotten skirmishes now humming with malevolent energy, was raised in the air.

Round after round ripped into the twilight, not aimed at an enemy, but as a deafening, echoing declaration of his return. At his other arm, the ancient Ohkara Shield flared with a searing, otherworldly light, emitting a loud, defiant salute that cut through the desert’s oppressive silence.

The sound was a challenge, a promise of retribution.

As the last rounds echoed into the vastness, Kommandant Eisenfaust’s glowing gaze locked onto Soldat 1. A flicker of recognition, a silent bond forged in shared damnation, passed between the two reanimated entities. Once again, the two brothers-in-arms, bound by the Dessicated Fox’s unholy will, were reunited, ready to unleash the true horror of the Africa Corpse upon a world unprepared for their weird war. The desert would once again run red with the blood of those who dared to oppose the rising tide of their terror.

Thanks again to Rob for a second 3D print, this time with a big shooty thing. Hopefully a few more to come, Rob?