Just one day later, the air in the main hall of the base was thick with the smell of sizzling meat and ozone. The second roundtable barbecue meeting was successfully held, with the group clustered around the same metal table, now covered with food and drinks.
It was a welcome banquet for their new recruit.
Nolan, nursing a beer, introduced Jessica, the only trainee, to Connors.
Connors, who had looked marginally more relaxed after a night's sleep, tensed again. He was a little worried, his gaze flickering between Nolan and Jessica. Two of his former, and admittedly problematic, students were now part of this strange, underground organization. He maintained a stiff, polite posture, his unease plain.
However, as the evening wore on and the alcohol flowed, the mood lightened. After drinking a bit too much, Jessica was laughing at something Nolan said when a can of soda slipped from her grasp.
With a speed that defied physics, she snatched it out of the air, her fingers clamping down. There was a sharp crunch as her grip, fueled by adrenaline and alcohol, inadvertently crushed the aluminum can, spraying soda over the table.
There was a sudden silence. Jessica looked at the mangled can in her hand, her face flushing.
Connors, who had been watching, simply blinked. His worries seemed to vaporize in that instant. A small, dry chuckle escaped him, and he visibly relaxed. They were all in the same boat.
Nolan, seeing the mood was right, took the opportunity to slide a datapad across the table to Connors. The screen glowed with data on Roxxon Industries.
He explained, his voice low and serious, how they had been using a large number of children and adults to conduct human experiments, all in an attempt to study and replicate superpower compounds.
Connors, who had just started to unwind, grew angrier than Nolan had ever imagined. His initial sips of his alcoholic beverage became sharp, angry gulps. His voice, at first a disbelieving whisper, began to rise with each new atrocity he read.
He slammed his one good hand on the table, making the empty cans jump. He scolded the company for being crazy, for disregarding all scientific ethics, for being inhumane and utterly cruel.
After three rounds of drinking, his face was red with alcohol and pure rage. If Nolan hadn't placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, stopping him, Connors might have truly lost it. The biologist, who had gradually released the immense pressure in his heart, looked ready to storm out, prepare a potion, and transform into the lizard right then and there to hunt down the Roxxon board.
Early the next morning, the change in Connors was stark.
The motivated teacher Connors had completely shed his usual decadence and despair.
He was crackling with energy, a new purpose shining in his eyes. He and David were already hunched over a set of holographic schematics, deeply discussing how to build a qualified, secure laboratory within the base. Their voices were a murmur of technical jargon about ventilation, sterile environments, and power-grid stability.
Curious, Nolan and Jessica listened for a while, standing at the edge of the hall.
They watched the scientist and the robot debate the merits of specific alloys and air-filtration systems. In the end, they shared a look. Combat training was definitely more suitable for them.
But after completing the daily basic training, a grueling session of sparring and drills, Nolan paused.
After careful consideration, he still sent Jessica a large file. It contained a large amount of case information about Midtown High School.
Those cases, all concerning missing girls, would give Jessica some real-world experience and serve as a test of her abilities.
Jessica was very excited about this. The prospect of a real mission, a chance to do something, made her practically vibrate.
She immediately began to contact her former classmates, her phone pressed to her ear as she paced the hall.
She carefully, skillfully inquired about the gossip circulating among the students, her voice shifting to a casual, friendly tone that masked her true intent.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed in his private lounge, Nolan opened the simulator page. The rest of the base was quiet, leaving him to his task.
He stared at the designated salvage countdown above as the numbers slowly ticked down, his focus absolute.
[Designated salvage countdown: one]
[Specified salvage countdown: zero]
[Designated Salvage: Powered Armor]
[Salvage Harvest: Goliath 'Hunting Lord' Furnace-Plate Combat Suit (Worn)]
Spire Hunt is a brutal proving ritual practiced in the hive-cities of Necromunda. Young aspirants seeking status within House Goliath are sent into the underhive to hunt a marked target or survive against the horrors that lurk below. Those who return alive are considered worthy of rising within their gang hierarchy. Most do not return, their bones left behind to feed mutants, hive beasts, or worse.
This suit is a Furnace-Plate combat harness, a signature war-plate of House Goliath, one of the six great Clan Houses of Necromunda. The model recovered here appears to be an elite variant worn by a Forge Tyrant heir during a Lord Hunt, explaining its reinforced construction and personal engravings.
Weapon Systems:
The gauntlets contain integrated firing chambers capable of launching explosive slugs. At close range, they can break bone and plate with a single strike, while the ranged firepower provides brutal suppressive capability.
Defensive Capability:
The armor shell is crafted from thick forged plating and reinforced synthetic muscle fiber. A compact power field emitter is embedded within the chest plate, providing limited deflection against ballistic and energy fire.
Unique Technology:
Several components display signs of Archaeotech origin. The suit responds to the wearer over time, gradually optimizing servo tension, impact distribution, and balance. It also includes a slow self-repair function, capable of sealing cracks and restoring joint integrity when supplied with sufficient heat or chemical feedstock.
Acquisition Note:
This suit is almost certainly the personal war-relic of a Goliath noble line. Returning it to House Goliath would secure a powerful alliance. Keeping it without tribute may cause the House to declare a blood-hunt, and they will pursue the thief without hesitation.
Nolan narrowed his cyan wolf eyes, carefully reading and re-reading the notes on the Hunter Lord's armor.
He exhaled slowly.
It wasn't the ideal suit of power armor, not the true Astartes plate he craved. This was a force-feedback model, a lighter suit that mere mortals could use.
But it was enough. It was a massive upgrade, enough to greatly increase his combat ability.
So, Nolan extracted the salvaged items without hesitation.
A shimmer of light distorted the air in his room, and in the blink of an eye, a set of black and red Hunting Lord armor, standing a full two meters high, slowly appeared in front of him.
The heavy armor landed on the metal floor with a solid, definitive thud.
Nolan's gaze was immediately drawn to the pair of huge, oversized red gauntlets, more like gauntleted piledrivers, hanging at the armor's sides.
He jumped off the bed and came to the front of the Hunting Lord Armor.
Nolan, frowning slightly, glanced at the set in front of him. It was... ugly. It only had heavy leg armor, massive shoulder armor, and the aforementioned gloves covered with thick metal shells.
The rest was a strange, almost skeletal armor linked by thick, black, electro-fiber bundles, leaving the torso and arms looking strangely exposed.
He subconsciously raised his hand and touched the spherical, unassuming protective force field device located in the center of the armor's chest.
With a soft hiss and a click, the ugly-looking Hunting Lord armor actually changed subtly in front of Nolan.
Countless electro-fiber bundles contracted slowly and rhythmically, as if they were alive, drawing in on themselves.
A gap opened down the armor's chest, automatically spreading wide with a low mechanical whine to reveal the complex, padded internal structure.
"It is indeed a hunting toy for the hive nobles."
Looking at the scene in front of him, Nolan couldn't help but gnash his teeth and mutter to himself, a mix of disgust and admiration in his voice. "Even the way it is worn is so considerate."
Compared to the widely applicable, mass-produced power armor of the Imperial Guard, which was basically consumable, the Hunting Lord armor far exceeded it in terms of manufacturing technology and structural complexity.
But at the same time, its applicability in the face of all-out combat was even narrower.
After all, it was made for a bunch of idle, rich youth in a hive city.
The most terrifying enemies they could deal with every day were just swarms of Genestealers or mutated creatures.
Nolan narrowed his wolf eyes and took a deep breath, pushing aside the analysis.
He turned his back and stepped carefully inside the waiting Hunting Lord armor.
Click. Hiss. Click.
Accompanied by a low mechanical hum, the entire suit began to automatically don itself. The gap sealed shut with a pneumatic sigh.
A large number of electro-fiber bundles quickly adjusted, tightening and shifting the shape and height of the entire armor to adapt to Nolan's tall, inhumanly muscular body.
After dozens of seconds, Nolan, who gradually adapted to the immense weight and the suddenly encased, claustrophobic state of the armor, slowly lifted a huge red boxing glove.
The thick metal wrist turned back and forth with a smooth whine. Suddenly, the red shell on the back of the glove instantly split open.
Kla-chick.
It revealed a black, wide-bore bullet muzzle hidden inside.
Staring at the black muzzle, Nolan grinned, his sharp fangs reflecting in the polished red metal.
He twisted his neck, the movement amplified by the suit into a series of sharp, mechanical sounds.
He immediately controlled the Hunting Lord armor to walk out of the lounge.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The heavy sound of armored footsteps, each one shaking the floor, gradually echoed inside the base.
Nolan quickly came to the training ground.
He raised a huge red gauntlet.
As the metal wrist turned, the sound of explosive bombs being mechanically loaded rang out one after another. KA-CHUNK. KA-CHUNK. KA-CHUNK.
He aimed at the reinforced concrete wall at the far end of the range.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
In an instant, a series of deafening explosions roared throughout the training ground. The air filled with smoke and the smell of cordite. The recoil, which would have shattered a normal man's arm, was easily absorbed by the armor.
Nolan, with his cyan wolf eyes wide open, began to charge forward.
The extra power from the powerful electro-fiber bundles on the Hunting Lord armor turned his entire body into a blurred, two-meter-tall afterimage.
WHIRRR-THUD-THUD-THUD!
Nolan, who was charging, smashed the nearest heavy-duty metal dummy with a casual punch. The impact screeched, and the dummy tore free from its steel moorings, flying across the room to slam into the wall.
And the explosive weapon in his other huge glove never stopped shooting.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
After ten consecutive roars, the world vibrating with each shot, the explosive bombs in one huge glove were exhausted.
At this moment, Nolan, with fangs exposed at the corners of his mouth, suddenly stopped his heavy steps, the armor planting itself with a final, echoing THUD.
Once again, he showed an extremely brilliant smile, steam hissing from the armor's vents as he muttered to himself:
"It's a little ugly... but the power of the grenade gun also makes me like this set of armor."