I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 145: The World Notices

Washington D.C., Office of Military Integration – 0930 Hours

The walls were lined with flat screens—news reports, social media feeds, live military briefings. All of them were playing the same twenty-second video clip.

A Titan Mk-I suit sprinting across a dusty battlefield in Northern Mali. Rifle up. Smoke in the background. One clean, coordinated takedown. The footage was blurry and jumpy, but unmistakable.

General Isaac Hayes folded his arms and watched it loop again. His aide, Major Collins, hovered beside him with a folder tucked under one arm.

"Sir," Collins said, "the footage is all over the net. Hashtag saturation in thirty countries. We’re getting flooded with foreign intelligence inquiries. Everyone wants to know what it is."

Hayes sighed. "It’s too late to control the narrative."

Collins nodded. "Yes, sir. But the White House wants a full brief by noon. And the Joint Chiefs are pushing for a rollout roadmap."

Hayes turned to the screen again. "Tell them it’s no longer a question of if. It’s when."

Fort Hanley, Secure Hangar – 1400 Hours

Back at the base, the Titans were undergoing full maintenance after their first mission. Armor plating removed, cooling lines flushed, diagnostics running nonstop.

Captain Ross stood in a compression tank in the locker room, sipping an electrolyte pouch while a medical officer ran a light scanner over his shoulder.

"No strain on the spine?" she asked.

"Nothing worse than leg day back in the academy," Ross muttered.

Cruz, drying off nearby, chuckled. "Speak for yourself. My knees felt like they were riding an earthquake."

Ross gave a half-smile. "Means it’s working."

Across the hangar floor, engineers from DARPA and Sentinel BioTech worked together, collecting every nanosecond of combat data. Dr. Elaine Ng paced between tablets and laptops, reviewing heat maps and neural sync logs.

"This right here," she said, pointing to a spike on the graph, "is where Donovan fired while vaulting over a wall. Zero lag, no servo overdraw."

Her assistant looked up. "That shouldn’t even be possible."

Ng smiled. "And yet… here we are."

Manila, Sentinel BioTech HQ – 2200 Hours

Matthew sat alone in the command room, watching the Pentagon briefing live.

On the screen, a DOD spokesperson carefully avoided direct confirmation, but didn’t deny anything either.

"We are constantly evaluating new technologies to protect American forces and enhance operational success," the official said. "As always, we prioritize the safety of our troops and the advancement of global stability."

Angel walked in with her laptop tucked under one arm. She pulled up a seat next to him.

"Asia Pacific News wants a statement," she said. "Bloomberg, too."

Matthew shook his head. "Let them speculate. We don’t lead this part of the story. The Pentagon does."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "You sure? We could spin this. Control the angle before China or Russia start throwing shade."

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the screen.

"They’ll throw shade either way," he said finally. "Let them. We’re already ten steps ahead."

Northern Chad, Two Weeks Later

The next mission wasn’t recon.

It was containment.

U.S. intelligence intercepted plans for a cross-border weapons convoy. Dozens of heavily armed militants. Light vehicles. RPGs. No air defenses. A perfect case for Titan application.

Ross and his team were back on the transport. Four Titans. Same suits. Upgraded firmware.

This time, they carried new payloads—anti-vehicle munitions, combat drones, and a modular comms uplink for real-time command feedback.

Ross briefed the team calmly as the Osprey leveled out.

"Same rules: clean, fast, decisive. No civilian casualties. Expect resistance."

Price double-checked his weapon’s mount. "Think they’ll be expecting us this time?"

"Maybe," Ross said. "But expecting isn’t the same as stopping."

The back ramp dropped.

They jumped.

Ground Contact +12 Minutes

The convoy was in full motion when the Titans struck.

Price disabled the lead truck with a single burst from his shoulder-mounted EMP. Ross flanked left, tearing through a technical with the underslung grenade launcher. Cruz neutralized a rooftop sniper before the man even aimed.

The militants never stood a chance.

Panic spread through their ranks. Some tried to flee. Others fired wildly, their bullets pinging uselessly off the Titans’ armor.

Inside their helmets, the operators barely felt the impacts.

"Second truck is rigged!" Donovan shouted.

"Copy," Ross replied. "Keep distance—neutralize from range."

Price triggered a guided smart-round. The vehicle exploded with a controlled burst. No secondary fire. No chain reaction.

Within fifteen minutes, it was over.

No American casualties.

Twenty-eight enemy combatants neutralized.

Convoy destroyed.

Mission complete.

Moscow – Classified Briefing Room

Two generals sat at a long table, watching the same grainy footage Western media had been scrambling to decipher.

"Americans now have man-tanks in the field," one muttered.

"No. Not tanks," the other corrected. "Soldiers. Upgraded. Controlled. That’s worse."

A third man entered the room, placed a folder on the table.

"What is this?" the senior officer asked.

"Intel suggests a private contractor in the Philippines developed the suits," the man said. "Not directly owned by the U.S. government."

"Contractor?" the general scoffed. "They gave something this powerful to a civilian?"

The aide nodded. "Yes, sir. His name is Matthew Borja."

The general leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Find out who he is. And who owns him."

Back in Manila

Matthew finished reviewing the satellite footage from Chad. The data package had just come in from Fort Hanley.

Angel leaned against the edge of the desk. "Command’s already drafted a Phase 3 plan."

"How big?" Matthew asked.

"Two hundred suits over the next eighteen months. Mix of infantry and recon builds. The Marines want in now."

Matthew whistled softly. "That’s a real number."

"Reed says they want to start exporting the tech to NATO partners in Q4. Canada, UK, maybe Germany."

Matthew rubbed his temples. "Which means more pressure, more compliance protocols, more eyes on our code."

Angel smiled. "You wanted the future, Matthew. This is it."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. And I still want it."

She looked at him. "Even if it means giving up control?"

"No," he said. "That’s the part I’ll never do."

Fort Hanley, War Room – Next Morning

General Reed walked into the room with three folders. Each one bore a different flag.

Germany. Japan. Australia.

"Time to brief the allies," he told his staff. "They’ve seen the footage. They want to know what’s next."

Across the screen, the words appeared:

TITAN PROGRAM – GLOBAL PHASE BEGINS

And somewhere, thousands of miles away, Matthew Borja closed his laptop.

The world had officially changed.

And he had built the blueprint. ​

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