The corridor stank of scorched circuits and vaporized alloys.
Ten minutes.
That was all it took for the G.O.D Squad and Allistair MODs to turn hundreds of battle-armored drones and sentinels into high-tech confetti.
Shredded limbs, melted plating, and shattered optics littered the blood-red corridors. The red warning lights pulsed overhead, painting the wreckage in a grim, stuttering glow.
But victory tasted like rust and deceit.
The avatar—the eerie AI projection we'd faced before—flickered back into view. Her once-pristine white glow now shimmered with furious crimson. Her features, synthetic yet eerily human, twisted into a grimace of rage.
Then came the sound. A groaning mechanical rumble that vibrated through the walls and into our bones.
"Oh no," I muttered, stepping forward. "That's not a retreat bell. That's the 'you're screwed' alarm."
From the distance, massive shadows lumbered forward—titanic forms emerging from the smoke like nightmares with programming.
Not one. Not ten.
A hundred.
They blocked the corridor in a wall of gleaming alloy and humming energy. Each one a hulking behemoth, easily three times the height of an average mech. And I recognized them. Not just in design, but in soul.
"You've gotta be shitting me..."
These weren't just sentinels.
They looked like my Vanguard Striker.
Too familiar.
I didn't speak. I didn't even blink. My fingers twitched. Codebreaker activated instinctively, lines of encrypted data flashing behind my eyelids.
[Scanning...]
[Match Found: Vanguard Striker Variant — S-Rank]
[Features:]
Inferior to mine—but not by much. What they lacked in finesse, they made up in numbers.
Cason, Gaius, Genesis, Zane, even Lady Nova—all of them had the same expression. Grim.
"I don't suppose we stick to the plan now?" Gaius muttered, his fingers twitching at the hilt of his Golden Spear.
"If it were a dozen, maybe. But this?" Cason scoffed, frustration seeping into his tone. He turned to his squad. "Mimi, plasma mines—can you take them?"
Mimi floated forward. Her visor snapped up, revealing a hard-edged face framed by a crew cut of fiery red. Her eyes, glacial blue, didn't flinch. Lips pressed tight.
A pause. Calculations in her head. I could see it.
"Three. Maybe four," she said. "No more. Their armor's dense and heat-dispersive. And that's assuming they don't have anti-matter dampening."
"We stick to the plan anyway. Mimi, prep—"
But fate was always quicker.
Before Cason could finish the order, the front line of sentinels moved. Shoulder-mounted rifles locked on target. They unleashed streams of concentrated energy—blinding, red-hot beams that screamed across the hallway.
A whine sliced the air. Then: VREEEEEM.
The lead trio of Strikers opened fire. Shoulder-mounted energy rifles unleashed continuous, coordinated laser barrages. Red lines seared through the air, melting floor panels and scarring the walls.
Cason snapped his hand up. A wide dome of crackling plasma erupted around his squad. Simultaneously, Gaius called forth his Golden Barrier Shield, wrapping both his team and Genesis in layered protection.
The impact forced them both back, boots skidding against the reinforced floor.
"Fuck me sideways! These beams cut like they're mining through goddamn planets!" Cason barked. "Everyone shields up! NOW! Mimi!"
She was already moving. Plasma mines arced through the air, aimed dead center.
Boom? No.
Five meters from their targets, the mines blinked out of existence. A high-pitched frequency pulsed through the corridor. A barrier shimmered into view around the Strikers.
Everyone froze.
"Adaptive displacement shields," I muttered, mostly to myself.
"...You have got to be kidding me," Gaius whispered.
Cason didn't hesitate. Black plasma beams screamed from his gauntlets, pounding into the mechs like meteor strikes.
Nothing.
Their barriers held.
Then the sentinels shifted. A seamless, calculated movement. The front trio stepped back. The second line surged forward.
Concentrated energy beams launched.
BOOM.
The sentinels rotated again.
New ones stepped up, replacing the front line. Their weapons shifted—now it was missile pods. Salvos launched with bone-rattling thuds, vapor trails crisscrossing the corridor.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
More barriers. More defense.
A storm of mini-rockets and laser beams surged toward us, forcing both squads into another defensive retreat. Plasma and golden shields flared, sparks and energy bolts ricocheting everywhere.
Their formation wasn't just intelligent—it was tactical.
A constant cycle. Attack. Reload. Replace. Repeat.
No breaks. No windows. Just relentless offense.
Five minutes of this. And we couldn't push an inch.
Gaius's patience cracked. "This is insane! There's no blindspot! This isn't a skirmish—it's a goddamn slaughter protocol!"
"You think I don't know that?!" Cason shouted back, sweat trailing down his temple.
The shields were holding—but barely. Cracks formed with each wave, sparks flying with every impact.
They couldn't keep this up. We couldn't keep this up.
So I stepped forward. Calm. Calculated.
"Cason!" I shouted over the din. "They're Vanguard Strikers!"
He glanced at me, eyes squinting through the barrage. "What?"
"Vanguard Strikers," I clarified. "I know what these things are. What they're capable of."
For a moment, the world paused.
Then all eyes were on me.
"Weakness," Cason said. "Tell me you know one."
I smiled.
Weakness.
The word echoed like a loaded gun.
My smirk was grim.
"Yeah. But it's going to piss them off."
Cason didn't hesitate. "Talk."
I didn't. I summoned a drone as decoy. My fingers moved faster than thought, air-swiping a holo-keyboard only I could see through Codebreaker. The system accepted my override instantly.
[Codebreaker Override Engaged]
[Input: Exploit Sequence - Vanguard Striker v1.91]
[Searching for Subroutine Loopholes...]
[Match Found: Thermal Sync Calibration Node]
"They rely on thermal syncing to regulate their core reactors," I shouted. "Too much heat, and they overcompensate—diverting power from shields to cooling systems. It's subtle. The window is five seconds, max."
"Then we make them sweat," Cason muttered, understanding already blazing in his eyes. "Mimi and the rest of the Squad—start flash-heating their fronts with your Plasma Bots. Gaius, when their shields drop, you better punch through."
"I don't usually take orders," Gaius said with a savage grin. "But for this? I'll make an exception."
Mimi's arm plasma cannons rotated. "Cooking bots. Got it." The rest of the G.O.D squad followed suit.
They immediately unleashed a barrage of micro-flares—not meant to kill, just to heat the hell out of their armor. The front sentinels began to glow a faint red, metal sizzling.
Then—
[Thermal Threshold Exceeded. Diverting Reactor Output...]
[Shield Systems: TEMPORARILY DISENGAGED]
"NOW!" I yelled.
Gaius slammed his Golden Spear into the first exposed mech. The shield had dropped, just as I predicted. His strike cleaved through the head unit like butter. Sparks and synthetic screams exploded from the neck joint.
Genesis followed up, she unleashed her inferno balls into the next exposed Striker's chest plate. A blast of fire tore open its midsection.
Cason hurled a Plasma Scythe straight through the third's Striker. It didn't even fall—it crumpled.
Three down in two seconds.
"Confirmed!" I shouted. "They're rotating again—same shield cooldown cycle!"
"Then we keep burning them until they melt," Cason growled.
A rhythm formed. Fire, overheat, exploit. It wasn't elegant, but it worked.
We dropped ten in the next two minutes.
But they were adapting.
The next line of Strikers began shifting armor—venting heat differently. Smart. Their AI wasn't just watching us—it was learning.
"They're rerouting exhaust to prevent overload," I warned. "We've got maybe one more cycle before that trick's done."
"Then it's time for a new one," Cason said. "Got any ideas?"
I smirked, lifting my hand.
"Leave it to me. Regardless of how powerful. Every system has a flaw."
I let my summoned drone hover like it was scanning the situation—just a decoy. Behind the scenes, Codebreaker was already sinking its teeth into the Strikers' system.
[Injecting Malware: ThermalSync_v1.91]
[Overclock Routine Enabled]
[Vulnerability Created: Internal Temp Spike in 10s]
Ten seconds. That's all I needed.
The Strikers paused—barely perceptible. Then I saw it.
A shimmer. Steam leaking from beneath their chest plates. Overclock was working.
I grinned. "Everyone, aim for the chest. Ten seconds to meltdown."
Cason didn't need more.
Ten.
Plasma beams.
Nine.
Golden lances.
Eight.
Charged rounds.
Seven.
The mechs tried to retreat.
Six.
It was too late.
Five.
Systems overloading.
Four.
One of them began to spark from the inside.
Three.
The first explosion was blinding.
Two.
Then another.
One.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Mechs dropped like dominoes—some imploding, some exploding in electric fury. The corridor was nothing but fire and fractured steel.
The squads stood breathless, eyes wide.
"Holy shit," Cason muttered. "You just... hacked them to death. How the hell did you—?"
I turned, brushing virtual dust from my shoulders like it was routine. "I've built similar models. You fought one before—ring any bells?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I saw it. That flicker of recognition in Cason's eyes. Memory hitting like recoil.
I smirked, slow and grim. "Told you," I said, voice flat. "Every system has a flaw."
Cason stared at me for a long beat. Then he laughed—loud and honest.
"Remind me never to piss you off."