“Eyes up, Frags,” crackled Viper, his spotter. “Three golems on your six. They’re packing adaptive shields.”
He tossed the —a single, glowing red crystal the size of a fist. It spun lazily in the air. The golems turned. Their predictive algorithms screamed: Dodge left. No, right. No, it's a feint. flamefrags edit
The filaments found the seams in the golems’ armor. The vents. The optical lenses. With a chorus of synthesized shrieks, the three giants collapsed into molten slag, their last output a spray of harmless, evaporating pixels. “Eyes up, Frags,” crackled Viper, his spotter