The second underground level of the base had transformed from abandoned storage space into something alive with purpose and movement.
For the first time since its construction, the converted area buzzed with genuine activity. Footsteps echoed through corridors. Voices carried through open doorways. The smell of sweat and metal polish filled the recycled air.
On a large training field that had been hastily outfitted with row upon row of metal combat dummies, four hundred forty-four enhanced fighters stood in organized formations. The gang dogs, now transformed by Super Soldier Serum into something far beyond baseline human, averaged approximately 1.9 meters in height. Their physiques had become uniformly powerful, muscles dense and defined beneath their simple training clothing.
Before each fighter lay two weapons: a Terra I-pattern lasgun and a Hydra energy pistol. The firearms were arranged with military precision, equidistant spacing, barrels pointed downrange toward the target area.
Nolan stood before the assembled formation, his expression controlled and professional. In one hand, he held a Terra I lasgun, displaying it so everyone could clearly observe its construction and design features.
He spoke with the careful precision of an experienced instructor explaining critical equipment to new operators.
"This is a laser weapon designated Terra I-pattern," Nolan began, his voice carrying clearly across the training field. "First, you need to completely forget the classic depictions from science fiction entertainment. The operational principle isn't particularly complicated or exotic. In fact, it's fundamentally similar to contemporary large-scale industrial laser systems."
He rotated the weapon, highlighting specific components as he continued his explanation.
"The key differences are miniaturization and efficiency optimization. This weapon incorporates a highly efficient laser generator paired with an energy battery utilizing a liquid metal core for superior power density and discharge characteristics."
Nolan paused, meeting eyes throughout the formation, ensuring attention remained focused.
"However, don't underestimate its destructive capability based on its compact size. Under normal excitation parameters, the damage output is comparable to large-caliber kinetic projectiles. If you adjust energy output to maximum settings, the coherent light beam it produces possesses sufficient power to penetrate contemporary main battle tank armor."
His tone shifted, emphasizing the next point.
"Most importantly, laser weapons generate almost zero recoil. The absence of mechanical action means even a physically weak child could accurately control and fire this weapon. For enhanced soldiers like yourselves, accuracy and rate of fire become primarily questions of discipline and training rather than physical capability."
Without warning, Nolan suddenly pivoted. His body turned smoothly, the lasgun coming up in a single fluid motion. He didn't take time for careful aim, didn't adjust his stance or breathing. His finger simply found the trigger and squeezed.
The weapon discharged with a distinctive buzzing hum, a sound somewhere between electrical discharge and tearing fabric. The smell of ozone and superheated metal immediately filled the air, acrid and sharp in the nostrils.
A metal dummy positioned one hundred meters downrange simply ceased to exist in its center mass. A large, scorching hole appeared instantaneously, the edges still glowing red-hot and actively melting. Molten metal dripped to the floor in bright orange droplets, hissing as they cooled.
The demonstration was brutally effective.
Immediately, subtle commotion rippled through the formation that had previously maintained perfect silence. Low sounds emerged: sharp intakes of breath, muttered exclamations, whispered comments to neighbors. Every gang dog's face displayed mixtures of excitement and anticipation, professional interest warring with childlike enthusiasm for impressive new equipment.
Even highly trained, disciplined fighters couldn't completely suppress their reactions to powerful new toys.
Nolan observed these expressions with keen attention, reading the mood of his new troops. A slight smile tugged at his lips, satisfied with their engaged response.
He casually set down the Terra I lasgun, the weapon making a solid thunk against the display table. Then he picked up the Hydra energy pistol, beginning another detailed explanation for the crowd, which quickly returned to attentive silence.
The sidearm received similar treatment: technical specifications, operational parameters, tactical applications, maintenance requirements. Nolan's teaching was thorough and methodical.
Finally, he concluded the briefing phase. "You're now authorized to begin live-fire training exercises. Familiarize yourselves with the shooting characteristics of laser weapons. Learn how they handle, how they feel, how they respond."
The next second, transformation swept through the formation.
A wave of sturdy gang dogs stepped forward, smiles breaking across faces that had been professionally neutral moments before. They moved eagerly toward the weapon racks, each fighter selecting a lasgun with barely contained enthusiasm. Hands ran over the unfamiliar construction, fingers learning the locations of controls and safeties.
Then the firing began.
The training field erupted with the distinctive buzz-hum of discharging lasguns. Coherent light beams lanced through the air, striking metal dummies with devastating effect. Some shots punched clean holes through targets. Others carved molten gouges across surfaces. The air filled with the smell of superheated metal and ozone, creating an almost intoxicating chemical cocktail.
Nolan stood at the formation's rear, arms folded across his broad chest, his expression returning to neutral observation. He watched each fighter carefully, noting who displayed natural marksmanship, who struggled with unfamiliar technology, who maintained discipline under excitement.
After mentally cataloging several promising prospects showing both exceptional accuracy and calm, reserved personalities suitable for leadership roles, Nolan turned away from the firing line.
He walked toward the training ground's edge, heading for the passage leading deeper into the base.
David emerged from that same passage, moving with its characteristic slight forward hunch. More than twenty automatic servo robots followed in the Man of Iron's wake like mechanical ducklings, their tentacles carrying various supplies and equipment.
David's optical sensors spotted Nolan immediately. Blue light flashed brighter, and the artificial being quickened its pace, closing the distance efficiently.
"My Lord," David reported as it approached, "Mr. Bucky and Mr. Old John have completed preparations and are ready to begin instruction. Mr. Bucky's curriculum will focus on combat reconnaissance techniques and stealth assassination methodology. Mr. Old John's assignment is considerably more straightforward."
David's tone suggested something approaching amusement.
"He is simply responsible for beating everyone until they cry. His words, not mine."
Nolan, who'd been listening with full attention, nodded slowly. A slight smile crossed his face at the image of Old John enthusiastically brutalizing enhanced super soldiers in close combat training.
"Remind Old John to exercise some restraint," Nolan said, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely serious. "Although they've all received physical enhancement, their durability still doesn't match true Asgardian physiology. I'd prefer to avoid unnecessary medical complications."
"Additionally, David, maintain constant observation of interpersonal dynamics. Monitor for conflicts or unnecessary drama that could undermine unit cohesion." Nolan paused, making a decision. "I'm heading down to the foundry to check on Raditus's progress. You have command here until I return."
David waved one metal arm in acknowledgment. The gesture sent the twenty-plus automatic servo robots surging forward, entering the training ground to begin their observation duties. Mechanical eyes would track every movement, recording performance data for later analysis.
Then David bowed slightly toward Nolan, the motion conveying respect despite being performed by an artificial being.
"Don't worry, my Lord. As long as I'm present, there won't be any problems requiring your intervention."
Nolan walked along the gradually descending metal passage leading toward the foundry levels. The slope was subtle but constant, carrying him deeper into the base's industrial heart with each step.
As he progressed downward, the environment transformed around him.
Automatic servo robots transporting various metal materials began passing by with increasing frequency. They moved at surprising speed, their mechanical limbs carrying loads that would crush baseline humans. The robots flowed past Nolan like speeding trains, creating brief wind gusts with their passage.
The temperature climbed steadily. What had been comfortable climate control gave way to oppressive heat radiating from the foundry's massive furnaces. Nolan felt sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, his breathing becoming slightly labored in the thickening air.
He shook his head unconsciously, muttering under his breath: "Only someone like Raditus, who's literally just a skull, could tolerate working in this environment. Even the assistants are machines. No baseline human could endure these conditions for extended periods without heat stroke or worse."
The passage twisted through several turns, the spatial configuration seeming subtly different from his previous visits. Perhaps Raditus had been expanding, claiming additional space for new projects.
Finally, Nolan emerged into a large open area where Servo-Skull Raditus was actively debugging several heavy combat servitors.
The sight was disturbing despite Nolan's experience with violence.
The servitors weren't yet equipped with their final composite armor plating. This meant their construction was fully visible, revealing exactly how much of their original human forms had been replaced. At most, they retained perhaps half of their biological tissue. Everything else was mechanical construct: servo-motors, hydraulic pistons, reinforced skeletal structures, power distribution systems.
Even Nolan, who'd witnessed countless horrors and spilled blood personally on numerous occasions, felt a fleeting pang of discomfort. The transformation was brutal, necessary perhaps, but undeniably cruel.
"Ah? Lord Primarch? Why do you have time to visit the foundry and inspect my humble work?" Raditus's mechanical voice carried notes of surprised pleasure. The servo-skull immediately adjusted its anti-gravity engine, changing direction to approach. "Raditus is so flattered by your unexpected presence!"
Red light flickered in the skull's optical sensors several times as it processed Nolan's arrival.
Raditus waved its two short mechanical pincers in agitated gestures, quickly dispersing several automatic servo robots that had been holding transformation tools. The machines retreated obediently, leaving clear space around their master and the visiting Primarch.
Nolan, however, seemed disinclined toward lengthy conversation. His eyes scanned the foundry's interior, taking in the various projects underway, the organized chaos of active manufacturing.
Then his gaze locked onto something specific.
A large casting table positioned against the far wall was covered with various metal parts, half-finished components, and technical schematics. But what drew Nolan's attention was unmistakable.
The dark golden Infinity Gauntlet, once prominently displayed in the base hall's exhibition area, had been completely disassembled. Odin's legendary artifact was reduced to scattered pieces: finger segments, palm plates, wrist assembly, power distribution nodes. Each component lay separated, clearly undergoing some form of analysis or modification.
"I knew something was missing from the exhibition stand in the base hall." Nolan's voice carried mild accusation mixed with curiosity. "Raditus, what exactly are you planning to use it for?"
The servo-skull bobbed in the air, its mechanical equivalent of nervous fidgeting.
"Hehe... Lord Primarch, I merely borrowed it temporarily for examination." Raditus's tone became more animated, defensive but excited. "However, David mentioned that you particularly admire this glove's design and capabilities. Therefore, I conceived an ambitious plan: using the Infinity Gauntlet as a foundational template, I intend to help you create a genuine power fist worthy of a Primarch!"
The skull's optical sensors brightened with enthusiasm.
"I'm even attempting to integrate Asgardian runic technology into the design, combining their reality-manipulation enchantments with Imperial mechanical engineering. The theoretical potential is extraordinary!"
Then Raditus's tone shifted, becoming more subdued.
"Unfortunately, current progress hasn't been as smooth as I'd hoped. The integration challenges are... substantial." The skull paused, as if reluctant to admit limitations. "If you could somehow obtain an actual Adeptus Astartes power fist through the 'miracle' bestowed by the Emperor, even a damaged or non-functional example, I would possess a proper foundation and reference sample for accurate imitation."
Nolan squinted at the servo-skull, his expression unreadable. He took a deep breath, considering the request's implications.
"I'll find a way to acquire one eventually," he said softly, filing the need away for future attention. "But that's not why I came down here today. I need you to manufacture additional standard equipment for the gang dogs."
He moved closer to the casting table, studying the disassembled Infinity Gauntlet with professional interest.
"Their enhanced strength and physique can now bear the weight of carapace armor without mobility penalties. Therefore, a formation of super soldiers who are effectively bulletproof and armed with laser weapons can be considered minimally qualified Astra Militarum forces, assuming they survive several bloody engagements to gain proper combat experience."
Nolan turned back toward Raditus, meeting the skull's optical sensors directly.
"So, Tech-Priest, do you have any important suggestions or recommendations for optimally equipping these troops? Additional modifications or equipment that would significantly enhance their battlefield effectiveness?"
Raditus's optical sensors immediately flashed brilliant red. The servo-skull began jumping up and down in mid-air with such enthusiasm that the subtle hum of its anti-gravity engine grew noticeably louder, pitched higher with increased power output.
The Tech-Priest's mechanical voice practically vibrated with excitement as it prepared to share whatever brilliant idea had just occurred to it.
"Lord Primarch! I have—"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~