The Eureka Moment
The computer scans had been sitting on the front of his tablet for a while; for most of that time, the familiar smug leer had sat on Damon's weathered face. Shit... this tech might be advanced but I can actually do better. I'm. So. Fucking. Awesome.
He plotted out the modifications and he knew what he could improve; 3.87% improved heat dissipation. It'll keep him comfier in the suit and the Hydrogen cells will last longer. Indeed, when Damon found out the suit used a minaturized hydrogen fusion reactor he didn't know whether to cum in his pants, reverse engineer and patent immediately or to panic over having an atomic hot potato which could destroy half of New York State sitting in his lab.
All he needed to do was replace some conduits in the suit with silver ones laced with synthetic diamond, and use a new thermal paste which Hank helped him cook up; also based on synth-diamond plus some carbon nanotubes in it as well.
There was, however, one little problem with Damon's plan; a problem which was quite well signified by the fact that Frostfang was still embedded in the floor right outside his workshop. He remembered when Ragnar tried to slice his door open; his knuckles were white as he gripped at his firearm. Religious fanatic. Serious true-believer type. Priests tend to his armor. Its gotta be sacred. There's no fuckin' way he wants me modifying this.
But Damon knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. And who knows, maybe Psycho-Puppy will actually be less chemically brainwashed now and listen to some fuckin' reason. Immediately he sent a text message to Ragnar and asked the man to come down to the workshop.
And take your chainsword with you on the way out he added to the end of his note.