The operators in the vault smiled as they watched the screens.
The battle outside raged with brutal force, but L-Shark was getting battered.
Sparks flew from his saw-blade arms, his plasma cannons cracked.
Blood and metal dripped from his wounds as Ragehowler pressed him back with unstoppable fury.
One operator laughed, his eyes locked on the feed.
"We're gonna win," he said. "That hybrid can't hold on much longer."
Another nodded, arms crossed.
"Luxoria sent their best, and we're tearing him apart."
Theron stood at the center of the command room, his arms crossed, his eyes hard.
He didn't share their smiles. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed.
"Send the most elite soldiers," he said, voice calm and cold.
The operators paused.
One turned, confusion in his eyes. "Sir?"
Theron's eyes stayed fixed on the screens.
His fingers drummed on his arm, slow and steady.
"Send them to the young masters and mistresses. Escort them to the bunker."
