Transformers: Core protocols

Ch 1

"Our mission is clear: to secure Rubicon's future and eliminate all threats to its stability. Together, we will prevail."

The video cuts to a shadowed, menacing silhouette of an Autobot, its glowing optics piercing through the darkness. The narrator's voice grows more foreboding.

"Make no mistake: the Autobots are a danger to us all. They bring only war, destruction, and chaos. But with your support, we will ensure they are nothing more than a forgotten chapter in Rubicon's history."

The corporate emblem reappears, shining brightly against a black background. The music crescendos, ending on a bold note as the narrator delivers the final line:

"The Autobots must be stopped. For Rubicon. For humanity. For the future."

"Glory to mankind."

C4-621 watched as the video screen flickered to black, the corporate logo vanishing into the void. The hollow, patriotic fanfare that accompanied it left only a faint echo in the transport shuttle's cabin. His expression remained blank, his augmented body still, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

The seat of his Armored Core felt cold beneath him, the cockpit a cramped but familiar space. The harness across his chest kept him firmly in place, and the soft hum of the shuttle's engines reverberated through the steel frame.

He leaned his head back against the padded rest, letting his eyes close for a moment. The sensation was fleeting, barely comforting. He couldn't remember the last time he truly rested—or if he ever had. The implant at the base of his skull itched faintly, but he ignored it. That itch was always there, a constant reminder of his purpose.

The faint hiss of decompression and the click of a status light on the cockpit panel brought him back to the present. 621's eyes opened, focusing on the small viewport to his right. Rubicon sprawled below, its harsh, desolate beauty impossible to ignore. The planet's surface shimmered faintly with veins of Coral, a vivid, otherworldly glow cutting through the crimson sands and jagged rock formations.

From this height, it seemed peaceful. Deceptively so. But 621 knew better. He'd read the mission briefs, absorbed every detail, and watched every propaganda video on repeat. The planet was alive, bristling with conflict, every inch contested by human ambition, alien remnants, and the Autobots that had come to this place as outsiders and destroyers.

The intercom crackled to life, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Approaching drop zone. ETA three minutes."

621's hands moved instinctively, checking the Armored Core's systems. The display lit up with lines of data as the machine's systems came online:
• Reactor Output: Nominal
• Primary Weapon Systems: Green
• Mobility Systems: Calibrated
• Core Integrity: 100%

His grip tightened on the controls as the Core's HUD illuminated the cockpit in a dull blue glow. The machine hummed with barely contained power, the reactor vibrating faintly beneath him.

"C4-621, confirm operational readiness." The voice of the shuttle's pilot was as mechanical as the systems themselves.

"Ready," 621 replied, his voice devoid of inflection.

"Acknowledged. Opening deployment bay in T-minus two minutes."

The cabin fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the shuttle. 621 stared at the controls, his reflection staring back at him in the dull sheen of the screens. The implant at his neck pulsed faintly, feeding his brain streams of data and commands. He knew the mission. He didn't need reminders or encouragement.