The underground corridor leading to the containment chamber was a labyrinth of reinforced concrete, tempered steel, and successive layers of thermal and electromagnetic insulation. Emergency lights flickered faintly red along the walls, casting long shadows that danced like silent sentinels. Erick Smith walked with firm steps, the echo of his combat boots reverberating in the oppressive void. He had built this place with his own hands—or rather, with the hands of his AIs, the assembly robots, and the sweat of countless sleepless nights. It was the deepest sanctuary of the Hargrove complex, buried more than a hundred meters below the gothic mansion that now housed his protected family.
The final door appeared before him like a monolithic wall: three meters high by two meters wide, made of a titanium-tungsten alloy reinforced with carbon nanotube fibers and inner layers of ablative ceramic. There was no handle, no visible latch. Only a discreet biometric panel embedded in the opaque surface. Erick pressed his right palm against it. A quick scan—retinal, veins, heartbeat, thermal signature—confirmed his identity. With a deep hydraulic hiss, the door slid aside, revealing absolute darkness beyond.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, the motion sensors activated the lighting system. High-brightness LED lights embedded in the ceiling and walls exploded in cool white light, banishing shadows in fractions of a second. The room wasn't large—about twenty square meters, maybe a little more, with a ceiling high enough to accommodate the centerpiece without it seeming cramped. Bare walls, painted industrial gray, no windows, no decorations. The floor was polished concrete with a non-slip coating, marked by yellow safety lines converging on the exact center of the chamber.
And there she was.
In the heart of the room, suspended inside a thirty-centimeter-thick reinforced glass cylinder—polycarbonate laminated with layers of synthetic sapphire—stood the armor. It wasn't elegant like Batman's armor or Tony Stark's gleaming suits in another universe. It was brutal. Bulky. A walking fortress designed for a single purpose: to survive the hell of the DC universe and impose its will upon it.
The armor measured nearly two and a half meters in height, with shoulders as wide as garage doors, thick armor plates overlapping in angular layers designed to deflect kinetic impacts and dissipate thermal energy. The E10 metal—the experimental alloy Erick had synthesized in AI-controlled plasma furnaces—had a dark gray, almost black hue, with iridescent bluish reflections under direct light, like obsidian forged into stars. The joints were protected by redundant hydraulic actuators and reinforced polymer artificial muscle fibers, thick enough to be visible even under the plates. In the chest, a compact reactor pulsed weakly with amber light, the power source that kept the system in standby. Arms ended in armored fists capable of crushing structural steel; colossal legs, with thrusters integrated into the soles and thighs, promised brute propulsion. On the right shoulder, a heavy-caliber automatic cannon was retracted, ready to extend; on the left, guided missile launchers. The helmet was an angular mask, devoid of a human face—just a polarized visor in the shape of an inverted T, dormant red optical sensors, and retractable antennas for encrypted communications.
Erick stopped a few meters from the cylinder, feeling the air heavy with ozone and heated metal. His eyes scanned every detail, cataloging imperfections, strengths, potential flaws. He had waited months for this.
Suddenly, the air in front of him trembled. Pixels of blue light condensed into a familiar holographic figure: Engineer—or "Engine," as Erick affectionately called him sometimes—with his tall, slender silhouette, impeccable virtual suit, thin-rimmed glasses, and a satisfied smile that wasn't quite arrogant, but almost.
"Boss," said the hologram, his voice deep and modulated with surgical precision. "Welcome to the cradle of the Titan."
Erick crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side.
"So... what did we get?"
Engineer took a virtual step to the side, gesturing toward the armor like a proud presenter.
"The project you requested presented some difficulties, I admit. E10 is stubborn—high density, extreme melting point, but malleable enough for precise molding. We had to recalibrate the plasma furnaces three times and redo the fatigue tests on a microscopic scale. But... I succeeded in most of it. Using pure E10 metal, we managed to produce this armor primarily designed to withstand any kind of stress this wretched universe can throw at you."
Erick began to walk slowly around the cylinder, circling the armor like a predator assessing its prey—or, in this case, the weapon. His footsteps echoed in the silence of the room.
"Tell me what we can achieve with it."Details. No frills.
Engineer nodded, projecting secondary holograms around the armor: rotating diagrams, performance graphs, stress simulations.
"You requested an exoskeleton-style armor that amplified strength, speed, and endurance. I can say that part of the objective has been met... and surpassed in some aspects. The endurance is immense. Simulated tests show that it withstands impacts equivalent to a direct tactical missile strike to the torso without critical structural deformation. I don't know what the real limit is—we don't have equipment capable of testing beyond a certain point without destroying the measuring equipment. The same goes for strength: the actuators and artificial muscle fibers, combined with the E10, allow you to multiply your base strength by a factor of at least 25 to 30. You could lift and throw an Abrams tank like it was a basketball... theoretically."
Erick raised an eyebrow, pausing behind the armor to inspect the back, where additional plates protected the reactor.
"And the speed?"
"Based on the calculations we refined together," Engineer continued, "it can increase your speed by at least five times. Sustained runs at 120-150 km/h on open terrain, brutal accelerations from 0 to 100 in less than two seconds. Of course... you won't have much fine mobility. Don't expect parkour acrobatics like Dick Grayson or elegant jumps. This thing is made for running through walls, not for dancing on rooftops. Who needs mobility when you can turn a barricade into scrap metal?"
Erick chuckled softly, almost inaudibly. The armor was exactly as he had imagined: a tank with legs. Bulky, heavy, intimidating. Overlapping plates created angles that would deflect bullets, blades, and even low-caliber energy beams. He touched the cylinder glass with his fingers, feeling the subtle vibration of the internal life support system.
"And the weapons?"
Engineer's smile widened.
"We managed to fit a pretty heavy caliber. A 30mm automatic cannon on the right shoulder, with armor-piercing and tracer ammunition. Capacity for 800 rounds before reloading. On the left, dual launchers for laser- and infrared-guided missiles — effective range of 5 km, tandem warheads to penetrate reactive armor. Integrated targeting system: HUD with augmented reality, multi-target tracking, real-time ballistic correction. Improves accuracy by 400% compared to your natural shot. And there's the bonus: retractable claws on the forearms, reinforced with synthetic diamond edges. For when you want... manual work."
Erick nodded, satisfied, but his eyes hardened.
"Great. And what's its total weight?"
Engineer hesitated for a fraction of a second — an almost imperceptible glitch in the hologram.
"Talvez esse seja o maior problema dela, chefe. O peso total é... extremamente pesado. 569 quilos."
Erick parou de andar.
"All of this?"
"Yes. Basically, the E10 isn't the lightest metal. Brutal density to ensure structural integrity. This further compromises mobility in scenarios that demand extreme agility. However, being a true exoskeleton, the actuators compensate for the weight for the user. You won't feel the 569 kilos on your back—you'll feel like you're wearing a heavy jacket. But if the system fails... well, good luck moving."
Erick shook his head slowly, processing it.
"Tell me about the amount of energy it consumes."
Engineer turned to face Erick directly, the hologram flickering slightly.
"A lot. A lot of energy. The current power source — the same one we use in Baymax and other heavy equipment — allows only 20 minutes of continuous operation in standard mode. With maximum power, actuator overload, and simultaneous firing... 15 minutes maximum before thermal shutdown or critical exhaustion."
Erick frowned.
"That's a problem. Do we have a solution?"
"Yes, but it's a temporary fix. I'm working on a battery powered by radioactive elements — plutonium-238 encapsulated in layers of graphene and lead-boron. It could extend the runtime to 45-60 minutes with moderate use. The problem... you can probably guess."
"The radiation is leaking," Erick added in a low voice.
"Exactly. I haven't been able to find an easy way to completely contain it. Tests show micro-leaks even with long exposures. I'm trying additional shielding with magnetic containment fields, but I haven't found anything definitive yet."
Erick remained silent for a long moment, staring intently at the armor. He thought about the threats that were approaching: Darkseid, Brainiac, the inevitable confrontation with gods and monsters. Fifteen minutes could be the difference between victory and annihilation.
"Build the battery," he finally ordered. "It will be important in case of an emergency. Even with the risk. Better controlled radiation than being without power when the world ends."
Engineer nodded, the hologram becoming clearer.
"Yes, boss. Starting prototype phase two immediately."
Erick took a step back, looking one last time at the armor. A slow smile formed on his lips—cold, determined, the smile of someone who saw the future as a battlefield to be conquered.
"Good job, Engine. Do you know how long I'll be able to test it?"
The hologram smiled back, genuinely.
"Right now, if you wish. The systems are green. The cylinder opens with your command."
Erick chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the small room.
"Excellent."
He reached for the control panel beside the cylinder. His fingers hovered over the release button.
The armor awaited. The Titan was ready to awaken.
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