I tried sitting up again, slower this time. The pain was still there, but I could manage it.
"Sitrep?"
Paul raised an eyebrow.
"Are you serious dude? You've barely been awake for five minutes and you're asking for a sitrep?"
"Yep,"
I grunted, swinging my legs over the side of the bed only to wince as pain shot up from my thigh, It felt like someone stuck a red hot Iron Into my thigh.
"Humor me."
Paul sighed, running a hand through his brown curly hair before giving in.
"Alright, man. Airid's stable. The client's collection ship is due to arrive in a few days. We've been keeping everything locked down since the last fight, no surprises. Darius, Robert, and Julian are busy in the hangar bay with... let's just say a little surprise. You'll like it I guarantee It."
I narrowed my eyes.
"What kind of surprise?"
Paul grinned.
"You'll see. Come on, we'll get you down there."
Before I could argue, Paul grabbed a nearby wheelchair and pushed it toward me.
"No way you're walking there on your own, not with that scorched leg of yourse."
I grumbled but let him help me into the chair. The pain in my ribs made every breath a chore, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. Once I was settled, Paul pushed me through the ship's corridors, heading toward the cargo bay.
As we rolled through the dimly lit halls, I could hear faint sounds of work coming from the hangar. Clanking metal, muffled voices.
The faint smell of oil, hydraulic fluid and the unmistakable stench of a decomposing corpse hit my nose as we got closer.
When we arrived, the hangar was buzzing with activity. Darius, Robert, and Julian were all clustered around something.
My eyes widened as I saw them pulling armor off a hulking figure lying on the floor a humanoid slug corpse, encased in fully enclosed exoskeleton armor.
Darius was in the middle of pulling the helmet off, revealing the slug's grotesque face underneath.
The creature had a literal slug's face, wet, slimy, with four antennae-like eyes. It was an image straight out of a nightmare.
"Well, damn,"
I muttered, taking in the sight.
"That is one ugly bastard."
Darius wiped his brow, glancing at me as I rolled into the hangar.
"Finally awake had enough of youre beauty sleep huh? Just in time to see this piece of work."
He lifted the slug's fully enclosed helmet in the air, waving it around like a trophy.
"Can't believe this ugly son of a bitch was running around in this fancy exoskeleton armor though since our physiology Is different It's no use for us just like their weapons but I bet we will still score a nice penny for all the junk we collected after we use what we can to fix our own s*it"
Darius said with a grin while motioning with his chin to the xenos looted weapons and armor.
Julian knelt next to the slug's body, inspecting the exoskeleton's mechanics.
"This thing's no joke. Their tech is definitely more advanced than ours even though their considered poor based on the Intel provided"
Robert, who was standing off to the side, arms crossed, nodded in agreement.
"We figured we might as well salvage what we can. This armor's worth a fortune, and with the extra cash to spare we can buy some fancy toys of our own"
"Now thats the spirit boys"
I said, grinning despite the pain.
"As I always say leave nothing behind not even their underwear"
Darius turned the slug's head with the helmet in his hand, making a face.
"Ugliest damn thing I've ever seen. How do you even take this guy seriously in a fight? It's like someone squished a slug and stuck it inside armor."
Paul laughed, patting Darius on the back.
"Doesn't matter how ugly it is, as long as it can shoot straight."
"Fair enough,"
Darius agreed, tossing the high tech helmet aside.
"So what's the plan?"
Julian asked, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants.
"Kick back and relax what else can we do? Once the rich f*cks collect their prize we are heading straight back to E*rth"
I proposed while leaning back Into the wheelchair.
"Anything you say, Drac,"
Darius replied shrugging his shoulders only to wince In pain because of his Injured shoulder.
"Also any way we can possibly salvage the dropship?"
I asked after a moment of thought because buying a new one would definitely cost us a pretty penny.
"Beats me, I mean only the walls got damaged but even then the Internals must be a mess though"
Julian said while stripping off the chest plate revealing the mechanical exoskeleton beneath.
"Give It a try, also try seeing if there's anything left useful from the slug's dropships maybe we can use any salvageable parts to fix our own dropship"
I suggested.
"Sure, why not. I'll take a look once we dispose of this ugly bastard. The hangar's starting to reek,"
Darius said, pinching his nose in disgust, waving the stench of the slug away with a grimace.
"Yeah, you deal with that. If you need me, I'll be in my room... starting my galactic tuber career,"
I said casually, rolling myself away in the electric wheelchair.
The hangar filled with snorts and laughs as my battle brothers exchanged amused glances.
"Of course, he's actually doing it,"
Paul said, shaking his head.
"Only Drac would be crazy enough to film us almost dying and turn it into a damn highlight reel,"
Julian added with a smirk.
"Yup, that's our Drac alright,"
Darius grunted, kicking the slug's body.
"We're out here bleeding out, and he's thinking of making it an action flick."
I chuckled to myself hearing my battlebrothers comments as I wheeled down the corridor, heading toward my room.
The dull hum of Invictas systems reverberated through the metal walls as I entered my private quarters.
The door slid shut behind me, sealing me off from the rest of the ship.
It was just me, my pain, and a crazy idea that I had brewing since the first time we strapped on those VR helmets.
I maneuvered over to my ridiculously comfy gaming chair, a custom model I'd picked up before the mission, because priorities.
The cushions enveloped me as I eased into the seat after much pain, sweat and work until I finally managed to switch from my wheelchair to my gamers chair, sighing at the relief it brought to my aching ribs, wrist and leg which I placed on a wheelchair.
With a flick of my good wrist, I powered up my holographic console, the screens lighting up around me, bathing the room in a soft glow.
I started pulling up the helmet feeds we'd recorded during the mission.
Each one was a treasure trove of footage: bullets flying, explosions, and my personal favorite my own crazy last ditch rodeo after Airid got taken down.
"Alright, let's make some magic,"
I muttered, cracking my good hands knuckles as I started the editing process, I scrubbed through the footage, cutting and splicing the best moments together, as for how I knew how to do It, well back In the day apart from writing books In my past time I also dabled In concept art, music and videos creations taken from my mission or military exercises.
Of which I posted some online the rest I kept for my personal collection.
The sound of gunfire, the roar of chemical thrusters, and the impact of our shots echoed in my ears.
I layered on a heavy metal soundtrack to amplify the energy of the footage, syncing it with every explosion and moment of chaos.
Within an hour, I had a slick, action-packed montage that highlighted our insane firefight, the precision of our combat, and the sheer absurdity of some moments like then we almost got our heads blown off by the first salvo of 20 mm shells.
I grinned as I watched the final product. It was raw, gritty, and full of action. A perfect representation of Terranum Imperium PMCs Death Chain aka us.
I created a galactic tuber account under that name, typing in our PMC name and setting up a profile titled Iron Fenrir project that looked as professional as possible given our new career as space mercenaries.
Then, without much thought, I hit "Upload."
"For porsperity and legacy"
I said to myself, smirking. If we made it big, maybe it'd be a great side gig. And if we got ourselves killed? Well, at least there'd be proof we existed.