The mud-slicked trenches of the sector were quiet, but Boggy B knew better. In Worms W.M.D , peace was just a countdown between turns. He adjusted his tiny commando hat and looked at the crate that had just parachuted onto the jagged landscape.

Back at the base, the R&D worms weren't just sharpening knives; they were dismantling the very logic of warfare. In W.M.D , victory wasn't just about who had the biggest bazooka—it was about who could dismantle a and turn it into something much worse.

“Target in sight,” Boggy squeaked into his radio. “Requesting a extraction.”

“Checkmate,” Boggy said, right before the fell from the heavens to end the round.