Data-Diary---Entry 21-2

I'm stuck here, stuck in this desolate land after damaging my thrusters.

The General warned me about using my thrusters in heated conditions, perhaps this is my punishment.

I am Productive Weapon Y-1N, I am a sophisticated battle mech built for reconnaissance and weapon deployment in hostile territories.

I have been fitted with every kind of weapon known to mankind, most of which are cryogenically charged.

I have been sent to dispose of a terrorist threat somewhere in the territory of Afghanistan, as my superiors have commanded...

...and I may have just found the site, closing data log and charging cryogenic cannons...

...

...

Two terrorist members stood guard by a weapons cache, talking about the days events...
"I hear that the boss heard that those UN scum are sending another clunky over to try and stop us..." said one, lighting a cigarette and passing the lighter to his comrade...
"I don't get it, we only want our country back and they keep sending their troops in, thanks..." said the other, lighting up and taking a long awaited drag of the cigarette...
"I hope that isn't pacifism I smell on you Abdul..." joked the first, plucking the lighter from Abdul's waiting hand and burying it somewhere in his robes...
"Nah, 'Bring on the American Infidels!' is more of my taste, Achmed. You of all people know I like killing the scum..."
"Sorry to interrupt your talk..." said a malicious voice from above them, a high pitch humming filled the air. Both terrorists looked up into the burning red eyes of a four foot seven Robot-Girl, white with sleek black armour and two cannons aimed directly at both of them...
"...but 'Crappy Hour' is over..." it said monotonously as the humming ceased...
"What the fu..." shouted Achmed and Abdul together, before being plastered to the opposite wall in a beam of ice. The Robot-Girl leapt down, rushing into cover as shouts of alarm echoed the area. It reached up to its head-turbines, small and rounded to a point, and activated her radio transmitter...
"Sir, do you read me?" it asked, its arm switching to a machine gun...
/Report/
"I have located and breached the enemy compound; I am now awaiting orders..."
/Find cover, we are sending air support to assist with the clean up/
"Sir, pardon me but I don't believe that..."
/That is an order, soldier! Do your duty and take cover, Command-13 out/
and with that, the conversation was terminated. The Robot-Girl found a small alcove in a building, a place where it knew would be sturdy enough to hold off the shockwave that would come next...

...

The bombs came thick and fast, pummelling the ground around Y-1N with enough force to knock the Robot-Girl from its feet in a matter of seconds.
All around, men were yelling and shouting over the explosions, trying to escape from the fury as Y-1N sat silently, ready to pick off any that wandered too close to its position.
Then, almost as quickly as it came, the bombing stopped.
Y-1N heard jets flying over, and the distant sound of machine guns indicated that they were attacking any survivors that had fled the camp.
Dusting itself off, Y-1N opened her communications link...
"Sir, bombing has passed and survivors are fleeing, am I clear to engage any stragglers?"
/Damn/
"Sir?"
/Y-1N that is a no-go, report back to base and let the Air Force take care of the rest/
"Yes Sir..."
The Robot-Girl reproachfully terminated the conversation, activated her thrusters and began to head home...

...

"Sir, target is currently flying over the Atlantic ocean, permission to attack?"
/Permission granted Squad leader, just get that thing out of the sky/
"Yes sir."

...

Y-1N flew across the stormy water, wondering to itself about why it wasn't allowed to engage.
Suddenly two military jets appeared on opposite sides of it, ones it recognised as F-22's.
They began to get closer, their wings rising until they were mere inches from its body when suddenly...
SMACK!
Both wings slammed into the Robot-Girl, knocking it into the water.
Y-1N struggled to stay afloat, finding itself slowly sinking into the grey water...
"Squad Leader... (Cough)...mayday!"
The planes rounded and began to fire their guns, bullets punching its metallic shell as it struggled to stay afloat.
One smashed through its chest armour, puncturing its power-core.
Y-1N felt its body sink, its visuals fading, sounds getting dimmer and as it reached the bottom of the ocean, Y-1N...died...

Forgive me if it's not as good as the last one, I'm having an inspirational crisis!
Neophiles the Metal, HELP!