A worm named paul
Yeah, I told you ’bout him, didn’t I?
Paul’s the clincher on my four-worm team of destructo-ligochaeta. He always comes through because nobody ever suspects the normal-seeming one. When it’s 4v1 and I’m left with nothing but bazookas and grenades, Paul comes through my sending a chain reaction through the ranks of the opposing team. All who know Paul, fear Paul.
He’s not the commander on the team, no, that’s General Derp. He’s a general, obviously. He got where he was by blowing himself up enough times that the enemy decided it wasn’t worth their time to try and take him (And he’s also the reason why most worms don’t have limbs).
Killer derp’s the psycho, heavy-weapons worm of the team. You see him with the airstrikes and the bunkerbusters, and, on rare occasions, a smile and an apocalypse. He loves those. They’re like christmas for Killer Derp.
Of course there’s also Derpfish. So named because he’s been dunked so many times (Often by his own oxygen-lacking-brain’s attempts at combat) that he might as well just start shooting torpedos. Derpfish works well as a stealth operative. He can poke an enemy worm clean off of the ledge before they know what hit them (His finger). Also, don’t give him mexican food, because he’s of the silent-but-really-REALLY-deadly variety.
No, Paul is the one who always comes through. He’ll sit, quietly, until the end, taking the occasional potshot, or squeaking along the ground, and then when the others are blown up, bulletholed, and drowned to death, and the other team turns their eyes towards Paul, he’s already gone. And they never see him coming.
Hurricane Paul is unleashed.
Boom! There goes one worm, by a mine they never saw, triggered by a quick, jetpack-wielding Paul who’s halfway across the map by then. He ninjaropes his way around the back end of a cliff to drop some dynamite behind a screaming worm and then he takes cover in a nearby cave. The two remaining worms will usually bring out their big guns (Or sheep.) but when their turn ends, Paul’s on them like flies on your mother’s cooking.
They never see his banana, flung stealthily across the map, aided by an unearthly favorable wind. BOOM! The worms are split apart. BOOMBOOMBOOMBOMBOMBOOOOOM! Now they’re resting in pieces.
And a tiny, almost childlike voice says “Victory!”
There’s a reason why Paul never talks.