While Nolan was still speaking with Raditus about paint schemes and Legion colors, in another corner of the foundry hall, something significant was occurring.
A Blood Angels-painted power armor, colored blood-red like fresh arterial spray, moved with assistance from servo-mechanical arms positioned behind Doom.
The armor took its first heavy step forward. Weight distributed. Balance found. Systems integrating.
Then the unknown driver raised an arm covered with ceramite steel shell and removed the metal helmet with careful precision.
A metal head with black luster was revealed beneath. Smooth. Ancient. Undeniably artificial.
At this moment, David, with blue light flashing in his optical sensors, focused attention on Doom standing before him..
"Mr. Doom, have the micro-nuclear bombs and melta bombs been installed correctly?"
Hearing David's question, Doom shook his head and smiled bitterly. His expression carried exhaustion mixed with dark humor. He grinned without real joy.
"Mr. David, according to your very specific requests, the micro-nuclear bomb is installed under the power backpack housing. The single-use launcher is hung behind the power backpack as secondary system. The two sets of detonation devices are positioned just above your ceramite steel wrists for easy activation at any time."
Doom's voice continued, growing darker. "As for every available gap inside the power armor's internal structure, it has been filled with melta bombs without affecting mobility or combat posture. There are approximately twenty-five of them packed throughout."
His tone suggested he understood the implications. This wasn't armor. This was a walking bomb.
Before Doom finished speaking completely, a trace of hesitation appeared on his face. Concern. Fear. Confusion demanding answers.
Then, with frown creasing his brow deeply, Doom lowered his voice and asked David directly, "Mr. David, what are you and Lord Nolan planning to do? Why do I feel like you're both preparing to carry out a suicide mission?"
The assessment was blunt.
"But as far as I know, there is no incident currently threatening the team or the base itself? No crisis requiring such extreme measures here on earth?"
Doom's doubts made David shake his metal head slightly.
The Man of Iron spoke meaningfully to Doom before him, words carrying weight beyond their surface meaning.
"Without the permission of my lord, I cannot reveal specific details to you..." David's mechanical voice carried unusual solemnity. "However, as the steward of this organization, I still need to remind you of something important."
The machine chose words carefully. "The peaceful era has made most of you humans fall into a false misunderstanding. You think that the right to survive is something humans are born with. An inalienable right. Natural law."
David's optical sensors brightened. "Maybe you think that a war between a region or a country is cruel enough, represents the worst humanity can face. But that's because you have never fought any battles for the actual survival of your species itself..."
The implications hung heavy.
"Okay, that's all I can tell you without breaching confidence." David's tone softened slightly. "If everything goes well, you will also join us in this larger struggle eventually. I hope you can make all necessary preparations mentally and physically."
Then came the chilling prophecy. "Even when that day comes, you may find yourself holding a micro-nuclear bomb... and refusing to let go. Understanding why it's necessary."
David raised a metal palm gently and patted Doom's shoulder. The gesture was meant to comfort. Probably failed.
Then The Man of Iron drove the power armor forward with confident steps, walking toward Nolan and Raditus. Conversation ended. Preparation continuing.
At this moment, Doom stood there in a daze. Processing.
He suddenly uttered a fleeting murmur to himself, voice barely audible, "The Chaos daemons of the Warp and the four conceptual evil gods? If Earth also has to face this extreme existential threat, the power and influence our team currently possesses may not be remotely enough..."
Reality crystallizing.
"Maybe I have to contact my old classmates from university, see what technological support I can acquire... But what excuse should I use to convince them without revealing everything?"
The logistics problem loomed. How to prepare without causing panic? How to arm without explaining why?
"Oh, it's a headache." Understatement of the millennium.
Inside the casting hall, work continued with focused intensity.
The painting task of the six-armed Iron Cavalry Terminator was in full progress.
The servo skull Raditus commanded a team of servo robots with precision born from millennia of experience.
They rotated back and forth around the massive power armor, reaching every angle. Not letting any hidden corner escape treatment. Every surface receiving attention.
At this moment, the armor paint had been changed completely to green. Not just any green. Salamander green. The specific shade of Vulkan's XVIII Legion. Fire Drake colors.
David, using its intimate control of metal materials honed over centuries, created a three-meter-long regiment banner. Fabric and metal woven together. Symbol and standard combined.
However, the design wasn't purely Salamander. In addition to the black dragon head logo of the Salamanders Chapter positioned prominently, there was also a golden double-headed eagle emblem. The Imperial Aquila.
Not long after banner completion, Nolan, who had changed into black bodysuit underlayer, returned to the casting hall. Prepared. Focused. Ready.
He stood with arms folded across his chest, posture solemn. Expression grave. Quietly waiting for the painting task of the six-armed cavalry to reach completion.
His mind worked through scenarios.
Since Nolan didn't know what kind of scene he would face when first entering the Warhammer universe physically, when reality replaced simulation, he had to prepare for any situation. Best case. Worst case. Everything between.
Therefore, changing the paint of the power armor to Salamander colors, the "Black Uncles" warband which possessed good reputation and very friendly demeanor throughout the Imperium, was strategic thinking. Tactical advantage through appearance.
After all, not every planetary governor or hive administrator on any Imperial world had personally seen the Emperor's Angels. The Astartes were legend. Myth. Terror and hope both.
Nolan even planned to change his physical appearance to that of Alpharius using his newly acquired ability.
All to reduce unnecessary conflicts or contradictions. Diplomacy through deception. Survival through subterfuge.
A few hours later, as servo robots completed final touches, as paint dried and seals were applied, Nolan took a deep breath.
He stepped forward with ceremony.
He spread his arms wide and let the metal components of the six-armed Iron Cavalry Terminator fall onto his body one by one. Piece by piece. Layer by layer. Weight settling.
Systems initialized. Neural connections established. Man and machine becoming one.
After the installation work successfully completed, after final checks verified, Nolan moved his hands and feet experimentally. Testing range of motion. Confirming responses. Six arms flexing. Servo motors purring.
He exchanged a few brief words with Raditus and Doom. Final instructions.
Then without looking back, without hesitation or doubt, he led David, who carried the regiment banner with obvious pride, out of the foundry hall.
During this transit period, Nolan, wearing the Terminator armor that made each step resonate, also instructed David to explain specific arrangements to the ship machine spirit Procellas.
Whether it concerned the operation of Imperial Heavy Industries or the operation of the Twin Islands Base, everything should remain the same.
However, if any major incident occurred that endangered the team or the base itself, if crisis emerged, then command authority shifted.
Jessica, Doom, Bucky and the most loyal Mariko would share command equally. No single leader.
The distribution was specific. Deliberate. Jessica and Bucky would lead the Gang Dogs and the Stormtroopers, taking charge of all combat matters.
Doom and Mariko would be responsible for overall coordination and strategic command.
The reason Nolan established this distributed structure was entirely to prevent any 'accidents' that might occur.
However, he felt confident that his team members were not short-sighted enough to threaten each other or seize power inappropriately.
Most importantly, the Emperor Himself would not allow things to develop to a point where they couldn't be handled.
Therefore, Nolan wasn't overly worried about the Twin Islands base that he was temporarily leaving behind.
So Nolan and David, fully prepared to depart, went directly to the equipment storage room.
About an hour later, after careful selection and verification, the six-armed Iron Cavalry hung the Heart of the Furnace plasma revolver and a finely crafted bolter at his waist.
Nolan, who now carried the C'tan Warscythe and an entire ammunition box of bolter rounds on his power backpack, stepped into the underground passage leading to the Pharos Lighthouse.
And David, also wearing green power armor that matched his lord's, also carrying a C'tan phased sword on his power backpack for backup weaponry, followed Nolan closely. The Man of Iron bore the regiment banner with obvious pride.
THUMP THUMP THUMP—
Accompanied by the heavy footsteps of power armor, ceramite striking metal in rhythm like war drums, the two descended without speaking.
They came to the circular hall surrounded by the vigilant Intelligent Control Corps, passing through defensive rings.
At this moment, Nolan, wearing his green metal helmet that concealed his features completely, knelt on one knee before the Emperor statue without hesitation.
According to his previous simulation experiences, according to what felt right and necessary, he began praying silently to the Emperor.
After a few dozen seconds of communion, after connection felt established, Nolan took a deep breath.
He immediately opened the simulator's Golden Throne page interface with thought-command.
He resolutely chose the prayer support mission that had been selected long ago! Tetim Hive.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~