Execution of Protocol Stronghold
Osiris stood silently in the center of the workshop, with four combat Servitor units standing guard around him, waiting in silent, chilling obedience.
The air was thick with the special scent of engine oil and heated metal, and the low, reassuring hum of the fusion energy core infused the space with a palpable, calming rhythm.
Through his visual interface, he clearly saw seven glowing red points, the Wraiths' iron, slowly entering the ruins on the outskirts of the town, tracking the most probable path predicted by the servo-skull.
"Hostile assets entering preset interdiction zone. Initiate Protocol 'Stronghold'." His voice, synthesized and flat through his faceplate, was devoid of human tremor.
The command was instantly routed to each combat unit. The optical sensors in the eye sockets of three imitation skulls and four combat Servitor lit up simultaneously, emitting a steady, focused crimson glow.
The heavy footsteps of the Servitor crushed the weathered ground, producing metallic clangs, before they dispersed silently and swiftly according to their preset tactical paths, taking up positions on various high ground and crossfire points alongside the servo-skulls.
Osiris slowly walked out of the workshop. The hem of his dark red robe settled in the rising wasteland wind.
He did not choose to conceal himself, instead walking directly towards the relatively open square in the center of the town, like a master craftsman approaching his testing rig.
On his shoulder, the servo-skull 'Buddy' hovered silently, the blue light swirling in its eye sockets, projecting a real-time battlefield overview, hostile unit details, and environmental parameters into his vision, forming a complex and devastating data network.
The first modified pickup truck roared around a corner, its rusty body welded with crude metal plates. Behind the heavy machine gun mounted on its roof, a Wraith, heavily chromed and covered in grotesque tattoos, was yelling wildly, fueled by pure adrenaline and rage.
He didn't even get to register where the attack came from.
A burst of dense gunfire suddenly erupted from a second-story window in the ruins on the right, a heavy machine gun operated by a combat Servitor fired precise, programmed short bursts.
12.7mm armor-piercing rounds instantly tore through the engine hood and penetrated the fuel tank. The pickup truck exploded into a burning iron coffin, hot metal fragments scattering everywhere, its wreckage blocking half the street.
A line of data flashed across the visual interface: Target One eliminated. Kinetic delivery rated 98% effective.
"Interdiction efficiency registers nominal," Osiris murmured to the servo-skull on his shoulder. "Record firing metrics and resource consumption data, Buddy."
The subsequent vehicles screeched to a halt, the piercing sound of tires tearing through the brief silence. The Wraiths members jumped out in a panic, attempting to organize a counterattack using the vehicle wreckage and broken walls as cover.
The sound of various firearms immediately became a chaotic cacophony, dumping iron in the direction of the machine gun fire, only to spark off the heavy composite armor of the combat Servitor with a crisp clatter, like cheap slugs on a tin roof.
"Low-caliber iron engagement," Osiris observed the real-time damage feedback on the interface. "Armor performance registers optimal. No structural integrity degradation detected."
The second armed pickup truck, attempting to flank, had just shown its front when a rifle grenade, fired from a hidden launcher, accurately struck its mid-section.
The explosion was deafening, shrapnel flying everywhere, tearing the vehicle in half. Hot metal fragments swept the surrounding area like rain, abruptly silencing the screams of several gangers.
The interface updated the ammunition status: Rifle grenades remaining 14/15.
The remaining Wraiths finally clocked the flatline scenario. Fear overcame greed; some began to retreat in a panic, even abandoning their iron in an attempt to escape.
"Hostile assets attempting disengagement. Initiate zeroing protocol. Full asset purge." Osiris calmly gave the order, his tone as if merely confirming the next step in a work process.
In an instant, the efficiency of the purge protocol dramatically increased.
A combat Servitor stepped out from behind cover, its arm-mounted kinetic rifle emitting a steady, rhythmic roar. Every bullet precisely found its target, destroying a pickup truck attempting to reverse, along with three Wraiths members hiding behind it.
The sparks and blood erupting as the ammunition penetrated the vehicle combined to form a cruel yet efficient scene.
Another combat Servitor adopted a precise single-shot mode, eliminating the fleeing enemies one by one as if undergoing mechanical calibration. Its optical sensors steadily tracked every heat signature, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, only absolute execution efficiency.
Every trigger pull marked the static removal of a hostile heat signature.
"Sustained kinetic delivery shows high fidelity," Osiris said with satisfaction, his gaze sweeping over the data stream. "Bionic-optic integration validates predictive hit efficiency."
The third combat Servitor steadily advanced, its heavy machine gun suppressing the remaining enemies, preventing them from raising their heads. Bullets penetrated walls and cover, kicking up a series of rubble and dust.
Occasionally, stray bullets struck the Servitor's armor, but only left insignificant scratches.
Osiris himself never used his special weapons. He just stood still, his gaze calmly sweeping the battlefield through the optical lens, observing, evaluating.
A slender mechanical tentacle extended from beneath his robe sleeve, deftly coiling around a still-warm bullet fragment that had splashed near his feet, performing a quick compositional analysis.
"Re-upped basic steel core slugs, crude fabrication," he muttered to himself, discarding the fragment. "Not even worthy of recycling preem material."
The purge protocol was nearing its end within eight minutes and forty-two seconds.
The gunfire gradually thinned out, leaving only occasional short bursts and the crackling of burning vehicle wreckage. The air was filled with a mixed scent of gunpowder, burnt blood, ozone, and the pungent odor characteristic of overheated metal.
A combat Servitor, with steady steps, walked up to a overturned vehicle, an armored personnel carrier modified from a heavy pickup truck. The vehicle's body was riddled with bullet holes and dents from explosions, and one side of the chassis was already broken.
The Servitor used its mechanical arm to steadily and forcefully tear open the twisted and deformed rear door, the sound of tearing metal grating harshly.
A burly man, who appeared to be the leader, struggled to crawl out halfway, his guts covered in blood and oil, one arm twisted unnaturally, but his other hand gripped an exaggerated pistol, hysterically dumping iron continuously at the combat Servitor.
Bullets ricocheted off the combat Servitor's chest plate, leaving a few insignificant dents.
The combat Servitor showed no hesitation; the rotary chainsaw at the end of its other mechanical arm smoothly activated, emitting a low, rhythmic hum, then precisely swung down.
The hum and a certain bone-chilling sound of structural separation briefly rang out, then quickly fell silent. Dark red liquid splashed onto the Servitor's cold armor, slowly dripping.
The visual interface displayed: All hostile heat signatures static. Combat termination confirmed. Initiate resource acquisition?
Osiris nodded slightly.
"Salvage all viable assets. Prioritize hard-coded tech: iron, chrome, vehicle cores, and power cells. Recover intact bio-mass for processing," he commanded. He paused, then added, "Thoroughly clear the site. Remove all traces that could compromise operational security."
The four combat Servitor immediately began executing the command, efficiently moving among the ruins and wreckage, disassembling, collecting, and transporting with their powerful mechanical arms. The entire process was orderly, without any superfluous movements.
Osiris stood observing the efficiency of the recovery process for a moment, then turned and walked towards the workshop.
"Field test successful," he told the servo-skull on his shoulder. "Tactical coordination efficiency exceeds minimum baseline. These cobbled-together Servitor units are sufficient for current operational requirements."
The workshop door slowly closed behind him, completely isolating the blood and chaos outside.
Inside, the stably operating energy core emitted a reassuring low hum, and the sounds of various mechanical devices operating formed a familiar symphony.
"Alright, Buddy," he said calmly, walking towards the central workbench, "run full post-mission data audit. Required differential: Servitor Three aiming system fidelity degradation under sustained kinetic output."
As he finished speaking, the visual interface began to flow with dense data streams; every detail of the battle was precisely recorded and analyzed.