Any and all types of coordinated assaults required dialog between the operator and their team, from complicated stuff like target allocation and munition suggestion to simple stuff like confirming a given order or reporting an advancement in individual mission objectives. 2020 found speech to be very inefficient for this, given that he found speech to be very inefficient in general. Thus, he chose a small collection of sounds to represent short answers - a 'ding' for "Orders received and confirmed", a buzzer for "Unable to comply" and a chord for "Objective complete". There was, of course, the small problem of him being unwilling to hear orders to the end before confirming them - and thus Rika's comm filled with dings when she said "2020".

His mission received, the droid moved further away from the squad, using what little elevation provided by the forest edge around the encampment to improve his position. He performed a sensor sweep of the tents, marking all potential targets, while the northern sentry was marked as first priority. By the time he reached his chosen spot, the rail rifle was already unfolded to its full ridiculous length, and charged for the first shot. A chord sounded on the comm, signaling his readiness for the coordinated strike, once three targets were lined up - the sentry, a man in a tent behind him sitting on his folding bed, and one of the men around the campfire. The targets were moving, making the droid's finger twitch with impatience at the huge gun's trigger.

A barely visible burst of purple light drew the northern sentry's attention, but he couldn't make out what it was. He squinted, but that only made the forest dimmer, in the darkness. His arms were too tired to switch the sensitivity of his nightvision goggles - it was a hard shift, and he hoped he would be replaced soon. The trees seemed to be coming closer now, as well as the ground... Somewhere midway to falling face down into the dirt, the rebel decided that his part in this war was done, that it was time to rest. The others could take over, couldn't they?

Behind him, beyond a tent with a blood-splattered wall, a lifeless rebel fell sideways into the fire. A few seconds later, the thermal detonators on his belt erupted, throwing chunks of hot wood and shrapnel at the nearest soldiers, blinding those who took off their helmets to relax and didn't shield their faces on time. Some of it fell on the tent's wall, lighting small fires on the tarp covering its entrance, but the rebel inside didn't mind, lying on the ground in an uncomfortable position, his face missing as if removed by a giant dull blade.

[color=aqua]"THREE TARGETS DOWN, PLUS UNEXPECTED CHAOS, REPORTED."[/color] 2020 chimed, following by another "objective complete" chord. He holstered his rifle to let it recharge, drew the blaster, and began advancing into the camp.