"Unit 05, equipped with a basic weapon mount platform and a load-bearing system, then..."
Inside a warehouse in Heywood, Karl listened to T-BUG's voice over comms while examining the mechanical exosuit in front of him—standing nearly two meters tall. He reached out and ran his hand across the cold metal surface.
"Props to you, T-BUG, for tracking down the storage site using just movement data. I thought we'd lost this exosuit for good."
"Humans are social creatures by nature. As long as they're alive, they always leave traces."
"Quoting Aristotle again?"
Karl chuckled through the comms, then looked over at Oliver, who was practically climbing on top of the exosuit. "What, you thinking of taking it for a ride?"
"I'm not that dumb."
Oliver inspected the armor's servos and framework. "This Militech exosuit needs specialized neural-linked cyberware. Without it, it won't even boot. Plus, it's locked down with internal security protocols. If I even try to activate it, the anti-theft system might crush me like a soda can."
"And you don't know how to pilot it either."
Jack gave the exosuit a solid tap, grinning as the echo of heavy alloy rang back. "Now this is a serious piece of chrome."
"Out on the street, this thing would go for over 100,000 eddies easy. Militech hardware like this? Probably more like 200K."
Karl gave his estimate—only for T-BUG to cut in and correct him.
"Specifically, it's 180,000 eddies. This exact model was sold to NCPD—five units, 900,000 eddies total."
She added, "For reference, that's roughly the same as a light-class ACPA unit."
"A light ACPA goes for 900K?" Oliver asked, surprised.
"I remember my grandpa talking about this," he continued. "He fought in the Second Central American War. After it ended, that's when they started developing power armor. During the Corporate Conflicts, he became a junior officer—got to work with ACPA squads. Heard all kinds of pricing back then."
"I still remember: the 'Commando' unit went for around 108,000 eddies, and the 'Model B' for about 89,050. I actually thought—hell, maybe I could save up and buy one someday."
"Originally, power armor was developed by MetaCorp," T-BUG said, chiming in as the group's resident know-it-all. "Then the patents were sold to Militech. Considering your family background, your grandpa might've been one of the first to ever pilot one."
"But prices today aren't what they were back then," she added. "Thanks to inflation, thinking you can get a new ACPA for 100K is pure fantasy."
After a pause, she calculated: "Back then, it was premium tech, so yeah, expensive. But if it were developed today, the price would be ten times that. That's about what ACPAs cost now."
"So if we adjust that... a modern Commando would be 1.08 million eddies, and the Model B would be 890,500?"
Oliver winced. "Damn, guess I wasn't that far off... Still, with those numbers, it's no wonder corps would rather throw some low-cost soldiers at the problem. A Sandevistan only costs around 100K. Train ten of those guys and they could probably take down a light ACPA."
"You're missing the point," Jack cut in. "An ACPA isn't just firepower—it's psychological warfare. You see a hulking steel monster walking toward you with a mounted chaingun? You run. You see ten guys with rifles? You hesitate. It's the difference between 'maybe I survive' and 'there's no point in running.'"
Karl nodded thoughtfully. "You're making me think of the Somme, back in World War I. When the Germans saw tanks for the first time, they freaked. The tech was crude, sure, but in just a few hours, those tanks did what the Allied Forces couldn't accomplish in a month of trench warfare."
"WWI? That's a blast from the past," T-BUG said, laughing as Jack and Oliver blinked in confusion. "Nowadays, if you say 'world war,' people assume you mean the Corporate Wars. Karl, you sound like a damn history professor."
"No one talks about it anymore?" Karl asked, genuinely surprised.
"What was common knowledge in my time… now barely registers."
"Forget it. Pretend I didn't say anything."
He shook his head at their confused expressions.
"If you're ever curious, I'll tell you about it later. For now—let's focus on this thing."
Karl tapped the exosuit's chestplate.
"180,000 eddies of Militech-grade hardware, biometric lock included. So… what do we do with it?"
"The client doesn't want it?" Oliver asked.
"I asked. They said we can keep it—'spoils of war.' But you know how it is. If we collect too many of these, it gets suspicious. One or two—fine. Any more, and someone upstairs starts asking questions."
"What questions?" Oliver scoffed. "Same greedy bastards been inflating military budgets since my grandpa's time. They report pistols at ten times their cost—twenty if they think no one's checking. And now they care about appearances?"
"My guess? They'll mark it as 'lost in action,' skim the bulk of it for themselves, and let us keep a few."
Jack shook his head, still staring at the ACPA unit. "So if we get to keep it, what now? Sell it? Scrap it? Mount it on a wall?"
"No clue," Karl replied coolly.
"We take it first. Figure the rest out later."
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