Because we could no longer feel pain our subconciousneses were slowly releasing our body's natural limiters and It was showing In the Increased amount of micro tears and fractures from our sparring sessions.
Julian whistled.
"Exoskeleton armor, huh? So, we're stepping into real heavy-duty combat."
"Exactly,"
I replied.
"We've been toying with those pesky combat armors long enough. Exoskeleton armor will give us the strength, durability, and firepower we need to deal with whatever comes next. And speaking of firepower, we'll be upgrading our weapons to match."
Robert, who had been mostly quiet, nodded approvingly.
"What kind of ones though?"
"12.7mm smart rifles with underbarrel grenade launchers and other attachments for me and Paul and for Airid and Robert with a flamethrower attachment"
I explained.
"For Darius a medium laser machinegun and for Julian a bigger and better mass accelerator sniper rifle also a better missile launcher and missiles for Robert and Paul Instead of that abomination of an RPG."
Airid leaned forward while downing his beer.
"And after all that, what then?"
I smirked, taking another sip of beer.
"Then we buy ourselves a f*cking frigate, I already have a few choices selected based on the specs I want, which are fission torpedoes with Inbuilt energy disruptors, one barreled mass accelerators canons, flak batteries, secondary double barreled laser canons, a hangar big enough to fit a flight of fighters, bombers, Interceptors and at least 16 squad sized dropships with a drop pod as for crew, Ive decided were gonna go with human battle s*aves"
"So a s*ave crew then?"
Paul asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You serious about that?"
"Dead serious,"
I replied.
"We'll get ourselves a crew that has no choice but to stay loyal because of the mini bombs In their brains, doesn't complain, and does exactly what we tell them to. Automated systems, drones, and whatever else we can get our hands on. We'll have our own mobile fortress."
Darius grinned.
"And what about after all that? You know, when we're sitting in our shiny new frigate, decked out in exoskeleton armor, with a crew of s*aves doing all the heavy lifting?"
"Then,"
I said, leaning back and grinning,
"We take it easy, pick an easy job first, see how the frigate performs, and iron out our Internal hierarchy while at It."
"So basically a prolonged vacation with a firing range to boot then?
Darius asked.
"Yeap pretty much"
I answered lazily.
Julian raised his beer.
"So... tattoos, new augments, a frigate, and then a long-ass vacation. Sounds like a solid plan to me."
The others nodded in agreement, and we clinked our beers together.
"To the future,"
I said, grinning.
"And to the Terranum Imperium."
"To the Imperium!"
They echoed, laughing and raising their beers high.
We sat there for a while, drinking, eating, and enjoying the peace of the moment.
After months of chaos, we finally had a plan, and for once, it didn't involve diving straight into a warzone.
Sure, there'd be battles ahead, but for now? We were going to live like kings.
And with the two trillion and 300 billion credits in our pockets and the galaxy at our feet, who was going to stop us?
"One thing's for sure,"
I muttered, taking another swig of beer.
"The next time we hit the field, we're going to make sure no one forgets the name Iron Fenrirs."
"Just leave the flip-flops at home,"
Paul said, grinning.
We all laughed, the sound echoing through the ship, and for the first time in a long while, things felt... right.
The galaxy was still crazy, but we were crazier, and that was our advantage.
...
A few hours later
We stepped off Invicta, each of us decked out in beachwear that I designed personally. The flip-flops slapped against the ground as we walked, our Hawaiian shirts blowing lightly in the breeze.
But the real standout feature was the cartoon versions of ourselves plastered across our shirts.
Each shirt sported a caricature of one of us, wearing a ridiculous expression and flinging flip-flops, dressed in armored vests and armed with oversized guns.
Darius looked down at his shirt and groaned.
"I still can't believe you talked me into wearing this ridiculous sh*t, Drac."
I smirked, adjusting my sunglasses, the black shades hanging casually from my open collar.
"Why the f*ck not? You need to learn to relax. We're officially on a prolonged vacation starting now, at least for a few months."
Julian rolled his eyes, glancing at his own shirt where a grumpy version of himself was drawn, sniper rifle in one hand and a comically large pair of sunglasses on his face.
"Yeah, sure. 'Relax,' you say. In shirts with cartoon versions of ourselves throwing sandals around like they're weapons."
"Hey,"
I said with a laugh.
"You gotta admit Its f*cking hilarious just wait until our fellow mercs see us their faces will be priceless."
Paul grinned, pointing at his shirt where his caricature looked like some sort of action hero, all bulging muscles, a giant grin, and dual-wielding flip-flops like they were knives.
"Honestly, Drac, I kinda like mine. It's like a comic book version of me. I look badass."
Darius shook his head with a chuckle, glancing over at his own exaggerated drawing.
His cartoon version was flexing with a massive fifty call in one hand, a pile of destroyed droids at his feet, and a pair of flip-flops hanging from his belt like trophies.
"I look like I'm about to tear the planet in half."
"That's because you pretty much did on Uyiescapus Prime,"
I said, grinning.
"Remember that fifty-cal? Damm good job with that one."
Airid was the only one who seemed to be embracing the ridiculousness fully.
He had a big, dopey grin on his shirt, his caricature holding a giant gun in one hand and what looked like an oversized bag of chips in the other.
"I dunno what you guys are complaining about. I think this fits me perfectly."
Robert just shook his head, silent as usual, but I could see the slight smirk on his face as he looked down at his own cartoon version.
His caricature was standing over a pile of wreckage, RPG launcher resting on one shoulder and a cigar dangling from his mouth.
"You gotta admit,"
I said, tossing my own cigar between my teeth.
"We look like the most dangerous beach crew in the galaxy. Flip-flops, Hawaiian shirts, guns… it's a true merc vibe."
Julian gave me a sideways look, crossing his arms.
"I don't know what's crazier, us or the fact that you somehow convinced all of us to wear these damn things."
"Well that's on you, you could have said no In the end."
Darius laughed.
"Alright, fine, Drac. But if we end up in another firefight while wearing this, I'm blaming you."
"Hopefully we dont"
I said puffing out a cloud of smoke from the corner of my mouth my hands tucked Into my pockets.
"A few brawls here and there are all good but let's not repeat Uyiescapus Prime I still have a bad taste In my mouth"
I added as I did all of us fell silent despite our hyper active aggressions and the surgical augmentations to our brains, killing a bunch of civies which included all ages and s*xes still left a bad taste In our mouths.
Feeling the room Paul clapped his hands together.
"Okay, enough talk. Let's get to the tattoo salon before anyone else recognizes us and asks for autographs."
We made our way to the same tattoo parlor we'd visited before the last cluster f*ck, the streets filled with the usual bustle of civilians, mercs, and traders.
A few people gave us funny looks as we walked by in our ridiculous getups, but we had pretty tough skin.
Hell, some of them were probably waiting for us to break out into another fight.