Transformers: Core protocols

Ch 2

But as he prepared to strike, a sudden movement caught his eye—a faint flicker at the edge of his sensors. Something large, fast, and not matching any RLF signatures.

His grip tightened on the controls. "Walter," he said, his voice low. "We might have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

621's optics zoomed in on the flicker, but it vanished into the shadows of the canyon. His sensors couldn't track it. Whatever it was, it was good at staying hidden.

"I don't know yet," he replied. "But it's not rebel tech."

"Stay sharp," Walter said, his tone shifting to something colder. "Finish the job, but don't take unnecessary risks. The corps don't pay for heroics."

621 nodded, his focus sharpening. Whatever was out there, it could wait. For now, the mission came first. With a deep breath, he leaned into the controls and unleashed the first plasma shot, signaling the start of the assault. The rebels' shouts of alarm echoed through the canyon as 621's Core charged forward, its weapons blazing. The battle had begun.

The canyon erupted in chaos as 621's plasma shot tore through the rebels' makeshift barricades. The blast left a smoldering hole in their defenses, and the force of the explosion sent several fighters scrambling for cover. Without hesitation, 621 pushed his Armored Core forward, its heavy steps shaking the ground with each stride.

His neural link fed him a constant stream of data—enemy movements, tactical weak points, and terrain advantages. A pair of rebels attempted to man a rusted turret, but 621's shoulder-mounted missiles locked onto them before they could fire. He launched a volley, the rockets streaking through the air and detonating in a fiery burst that engulfed the turret and its operators.

"Clean shots," Walter's voice came through the comms. "Keep it up."

621 ignored the praise. He wasn't in this for accolades. The job required precision, efficiency, and most importantly, survival. The rebels scattered as his Core pressed forward, the machine's autocannon mowing down anything that moved in its path. Explosions lit up the canyon walls, sending debris raining down into the narrow ravines.

Suddenly, a burst of energy fire streaked past his Core, narrowly missing the cockpit. 621 pivoted, his sensors locking onto a rebel sniper perched high on the canyon ridge. The figure was equipped with a makeshift energy rifle—rudimentary but deadly at this range.

"Sniper, top ridge," 621 reported calmly.

"Take it out," Walter ordered.

Without hesitation, 621 raised his plasma cannon and fired a precise shot. The sniper barely had time to react before the ridge exploded in a cloud of dust and rock. The debris settled, and the heat signature of the rebel vanished from his sensors.

"Ridge clear," 621 confirmed, already turning his attention back to the outpost. His HUD marked the central command hub as the next target. A small group of rebels had fortified themselves inside, their last desperate attempt to hold the position.

As 621 closed in, his sensors flared again—a new movement at the edge of his vision. The unknown flicker he'd noticed earlier reappeared, this time closer. It darted between the shadows of the canyon, moving too quickly and fluidly to be rebel equipment.