Secure Cybertron Protocols Administration
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Welcome to the next phase of your promotion training, Division Commander. I’m designation Zero-Five, and I’m one of the mechs in charge of overseeing the Secure Cybertron Protocol Administration.

No, you don’t need to know my real designation. Which, to be honest, is good, because some days I forget it myself. And that was the Secure Cybert—

Yes, I know you’ve never heard of them. Or me. That’s intentional. But now you’re high enough in the Intel Division that you need to know the truth.

There are things here on Cybertron far worse than any Decepticon you’ve met. Things that are unfathomable, unexplainable, things that are un-mecha. Things that will destroy everything and everyone in their path, and things that will warp our reality into a dystopian hellscape. Someone has to protect everyday mechs and femmes from these things.

That’s where we here at the Administration come in.

We technically don’t exist within Autobot command. That’s for everyone’s benefit. Trust me, we do things here that would make Primus roll in his grave. It’s best to leave your hands clean. But so that we can work together when needed, certain individuals within Autobot High Command get to bear the burden of what we do here.

You’ve noticed the doors as we’ve been walking and talking. Behind each one of those blast doors is what we call a Skip.

Why are they called Skips? Not entirely sure. Some say it’s because of our initials. Others say it’s because they skipped a step in the mechanical evolutionary chain. I’m not sure I care.

Here, as an example, we have our oldest skips. There are things in here that would haunt your nightmares. This one that we’re in front of now? Well, let’s take a look.

Skip-One-Seven-Three, our oldest still-functioning specimen. Sure, it looks like a reject Go-Bot, but if you turn your optics away from it for more than a nanosecond, it moves quicker than light and rips your head clean off your torso.

What about mechs that don’t have heads? Yeah, we asked that too, and the answers have been redacted from even my files. And no, don’t even ask about what happens to Headmasters.

Oh, hey, this is someone you should meet. This is Dee-Klass, special attaché from the Junkions. He’s head of our testing division. We found out early on that due to Junkions’ ability to re-assemble themselves, that they are perfect for running tests and research on incoming Skips.

How often do test subjects need to re-assemble themselves? Some things you don’t need to know to do this job, Commander.

Let’s walk back to the offices and we can finalize your authorization and passcode. Any questions so far?

Are all of the Skips like one-seven-three? Not really. We have things even we can’t explain. Like over there, down that hall? There’s a room where one of my best researchers, Cimmerion, just stands, dormant. He was assigned to work on containing some sort of living code, and best we can determine, it’s inside of him, somehow. Anyway, he’s been like that for years, but we haven’t seen evidence of Skip-Three-Zero-Zero in that time, so we consider it contained.

Yeah, that is cold. We have to be cold. We’re not here to make friends.

We’re here to keep Cybertron safe.

We secure, we contain, and we protect.

Thanks for your time, Commander. I’m almost sorry you have to bear this burden with us. Just head into the office and they’ll get you set up. Good luck in the new job, and hope we never have to meet again.

Oh, and Commander? Do me a favor? When you see Jazz, tell him he still owes me from last week’s poker game.

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