Transformers: Core protocols

Ch 2

621 gave a single nod.

Walter smirked again, reaching into his pocket and tossing a data chip onto the desk. "All the specifics are on there. Load it into your Core and get moving. Transport leaves in twenty."

621 stepped forward, picking up the chip and slotting it into a port on his wrist. The mission data streamed into his neural interface, displaying itself in his mind's eye. Targets, objectives, potential hazards—it was all there, clear and efficient.

As he turned to leave, Walter called after him. "Hey, one last thing."

621 paused in the doorway.

Walter grinned, a shadow of cynicism in his expression. "Don't get too comfortable out there, kid. This place has a way of chewing people up and spitting them out. Especially the quiet ones."

Without a word, 621 left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

In the hangar, his Armored Core waited, its imposing frame towering over the technicians performing final checks. The sleek machine was his lifeline, his weapon, and his shield. As 621 climbed into the cockpit and sealed the hatch, the hum of the Core's systems surrounded him, pulling him into the focused state he knew so well.

"Mission parameters uploaded," the AI voice intoned, calm and mechanical.

621's hands gripped the controls, his augmented mind syncing with the Core's systems. The transport shuttle loomed ahead, its cargo bay doors wide open. Without hesitation, he guided the Core forward, the heavy thud of its footsteps echoing through the hangar. The mission was clear. The stakes were high. And on Rubicon, hesitation meant death.

The transport shuttle rumbled as its engines roared to life, vibrating the hull with the promise of yet another deadly mission. 621's Armored Core stood motionless in the shuttle's dim cargo bay, locked into place by magnetic clamps. The only sounds were the faint hum of the Core's systems and the occasional mechanical clicks of the shuttle's stabilizers adjusting mid-flight.

621 leaned back in his seat, the neural link fully engaged. The Core's internal systems hummed in harmony with his augmented mind, a seamless flow of data connecting man and machine. Through the feed, he could see the barren surface of Rubicon stretch out below—a world of ash-colored deserts, jagged mountain ranges, and faint plumes of industrial smoke rising from corporate factories.

"ETA to drop zone: ten minutes," the pilot's voice crackled over the shuttle's comm system. "Brace for turbulence."

621 remained still, his mind scrolling through the mission data Walter had given him. The canyon's layout was a mess of tight ravines and uneven terrain, a natural fortress for the Rubicon Liberation Front to dig into. He reviewed potential entry points, enemy positions, and fallback routes with clinical precision. Every detail mattered. Every decision could mean the difference between life and death.

But one piece of data gnawed at the back of his mind: the unconfirmed reports of "unusual movement." Walter's warning replayed itself in his head, and while 621 didn't entertain paranoia, he knew better than to dismiss the possibility of something unexpected. This world was full of unknowns—alien artifacts, rogue AI, and now the news of Cybertronian invaders.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to focus. His breathing steadied as he pushed aside the lingering uncertainty. It didn't matter. The mission was all that mattered.