Series 1

• imperfections pt 1
• imperfections pt 2
• it came from the depths
• the way to the matrix
• real fake

The solar winds across Iacon City were stellar and warm, and the young Autobot Hot Rod felt more alive than ever as he raced down the open road. The racecar sped along devil-may-care; darting in and out of lanes as he took in the beauty of the setting sun.

“Hey! Hey, Optimus! Hurry up, we’re gonna be late!” He called back to the massive six-wheeler trailing behind him.

“You’ll have to slow down a bit! I’m not as young as I used to be.” Optimus retorted.

Hot Rod laughed and slowed down to drive alongside the larger truck. “Aw, c’mon! You can do better than that!”

Optimus responded by descending to a crawl. Hot Rod quizzically continued at his slower pace, wondering what the semi was getting at. Suddenly, Optimus barreled past Hot Rod, his smokestacks blazing with flames. Hot Rod swerved violently in shock before getting back up to speed and rejoining Optimus.

Hot Rod was aghast. “How did you…?”

“I have my ways.” Optimus said with a noticeable lilt to his tone.

Hot Rod would’ve rolled his eyes were he able to. Optimus laughed. Pulling into the Delta-1 base, he could see the unmistakable figures of Optimus’ closest allies. Ultra Magnus stood at the ready, but he cheerfully waved at the two as they entered. Elita-1 was preoccupied with talking to the rest of her team and didn’t even acknowledge the two as they shifted into robot mode. Sentinel Prime and Jetfire were both in deep discussion with one another, Hot Rod assumed about either the ship or the journey, but they looked up to see Optimus and himself waiting for the go-ahead.

“About time you lot showed up.” Elita-1 quipped. “Or were you just a little antsy about getting on a planet stuffed to the brim with creepy-crawlers?”

“Archa-7 shouldn’t be that difficult to get used to.” Optimus said. “We’ll be fine, Elita.”

“Yeah! I’m not afraid of some spiders!” Hot Rod cheered. “Bring ‘em on!”

Optimus’ smile faded as he looked to his friends. They all bore the exact same expression as he, as Hot Rod innocently looked up at them with wide eyes. Sighing gently, he knelt down to Hot Rod’s level and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not coming with us on this expedition, Hot Rod.”

“I’m not going?” Hot Rod asked. “Why not? I’m not a hatchling anymore, I can look after myself! Besides, you’ve got Bumblebee coming along! He hasn’t even hit cyber-puberty yet!”

“Hot Rod, it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable of going on this journey. It’s just that there are others who could… benefit from it.” Optimus gestured to the three Autobots in front of the shuttle.

In front of the boarding ramp for the Septennium were the absent-minded scientist Perceptor, who was besides the right and beside himself with glee as he talked about the various forms of organic life on the planet they were journeying to. The young speedster Bumblebee stood to the left, only listening to every other word the scientist was saying. Between them both was his second-in-command Jazz, who was trying his best to keep the situation under control.

“Chill out, Bee. It’s not like he’s leaving forever. The big guy and this rest of his crew’re just gonna be gone for a cycle or two.” Jazz reassured the yellow bot. “If you wanna, maybe they can bring you back a souvenir.”

“Yeah, right! How old do you think I am, two?” Bumblebee quipped. “Think I’ll live.”

“On the contrary, he won’t be obligated to bring you back anything.” Perceptor rolled out of the ship again and transformed into robot mode. “Because you’re both accompanying the Prime on this expedition.”

Bumblebee’s eyes flashed in disbelief. “You- we’re- what?! You’re kidding me, Perce! There’s no way in the Pit that you’re getting me on an organic planet!”

With that last line, he crossed his arms and planted his wheels to the ground, firm in his stance. Perceptor chuckled as he walked over to Bumblebee and began to pull him towards the boarding ramp. As he did, he attempted to talk the rebellious Autobot into coming along as best as he could.

“Now then, Bumblebee. Think of the ample opportunities that this expedition could offer you as a young individual! It could be a veritable gateway into an assortment of new career opportunities, a chance to see the galaxy beyond our menial if not familiar home planet – goodness, you’re quite heavy – and not to mention a closer bonding experience with our leader!”

Perceptor readjusted himself before he continued. “I myself am looking forward to this to examine the flora and fauna upon this new frontier and perhaps then you may also be behooved to consider the possibility that you would also like to-!”

Perceptor’s grip slipped and he fell to the ground with an undignified shriek. After a few awkward seconds, he lifted himself up, adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and turned to Jazz. “If I may inquire for some assistance?”

Jazz wordlessly nodded as he tapped a panel on Bumblebee’s back. Bumblebee emitted a short yelp as his body jolted out of its stiff position, giving Jazz enough time to pick him up underneath his armpits and drag him into the ship. Perceptor hummed merrily as he strode after.

“Quite a crew you’ve got there, Prime.” Elita-1 remarked.

“For his sakes, it’s only going to be a three-hour tour.” Jetfire replied. “But I’m sure they’ll get along fine.”

“Like a barrack on fire.” Elita-1 muttered, transforming into her alt-mode, and driving off. Her radio crackled as she said, “We’re ready to launch, Sentinel.”

“You got it!” Sentinel responded. “Everybody to your stations, it’s time. Taking off in seventy-five nanokliks.”

As Optimus boarded the ramp, he looked back for only a moment. He saw Hot Rod waving goodbye, Jetfire and Ultra Magnus smiling as they saluted, and the gentle glow of Iacon City’s lights. He ex-vented wistfully and boarded, the bay doors closing shut behind him. The Space Bridge roared to life, it’s gates glowing an inviting green as it flickered. Sentinel entered the watchtower, keeping his eyes on the energon generators as the flickering began to slow and level out.

“Taking off in twenty nanokliks.” He said, shifting his gaze up to the sky. It was supposed to be spotless; no Enforcers, no passing shuttles – save one in the far distance, it’s bio-lights glowing purple. He told himself that it was probably just a cargo ship coming in late, but there was something oddly familiar about the ship itself. Something in Sentinel’s diodes told him that something was off.

Weighing his options, he quickly tapped into its frequency.

“This is Autobot Base Delta-1. The airways are to be clear today for testing.” He recited. “I must politely ask for you to reroute or land your craft. Do you copy?”

A familiar cackle erupted through the radio. “Thought you could get away so easily, did you?! Well, Air Commander Starscream’s got something to say about that!”

The Decepticon ship Yottabyte was near unmistakable as it came into view; it’s stark black finish and batlike form picked up speed and began to rush its way towards the Septennium, intent on piledriving the ship to scrap. Sentinel ex-vented sharply and slammed his fist on the launch button. The ship’s engines roared to life and lifted off abruptly, much to the surprise of the crew.

“Delta-1! Delta-1 come in! What is it that you think you’re doing?” Perceptor yelled into the radio. His own question was answered when he looked out the window and saw the rapidly approaching enemy ship. “Ah… never mind! Carry on!”

As the Septennium began its journey towards the portal, the Yottabyte’s bay doors opened up, revealing a host of Decepticon foot soldiers, with Megatron and Greatshot at the front.

“Watch the rear, Flipsides.” Megatron commanded. “We’ll handle this.”

Flipsides nodded. “Naturally, my lord.”

Jetfire’s eyes pinpricked as he stared up in horror. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed Hot Rod and quickly flew up to the air control tower, tossing him inside without another word. The door slammed shut as the firewalls went up.

“No!” Hot Rod screamed. “Lemme out! They’re under attack! You’re gonna need all the help you can get!”

Sentinel shook his head. “This isn’t your fight, Hot Rod! We’ll handle this, just sit tight!”

But from what Hot Rod could see, the situation was bleak. They were outmanned by a factor of two, and even Ultra Magnus and Elita-1’s team were only barely able to hold them back. Elita-1 herself attempted to use her grapnel to reach the ship before Megatron, but she was tackled in mid-air by Starscream and dragged to the floor. From his own window upon the ship, Bumblebee nervously watched the carnage unfold.

“Can’t we land the ship and try again tomorrow?” he whimpered.

“Calm yourself, Bumblebee.” Perceptor said, his voice quavering gently. “It’s all going to be alright. From what I’ve ascertained, the situation is fundamentally and wholly under control."

The ceiling was near-immediately ripped open by gunfire. Perceptor grabbed Bumblebee and hit the deck. Razor sharp claws dug into the gashes that had already been bore and tore open the roof. In landed Greatshot, empty bullet casings raining down as his feet hit the ground.

“Ello, ello!” Greatshot bellowed.

“Unless, of course, we were to encounter a triple-changer, then all bets are off!” Perceptor shouted. The two could only stare in horror as he loomed above, flaring his wings and missiles directly down at them. Perceptor reached for the ion pistol in his holster but flinched with a gasp as a blaster sight aimed on his hand.

Greatshot clicked his tongue and aimed his blaster at the two. “Now don’t try to be a hero now! After all, what’s a pathetic nerd and a little boy supposed to do?”

Before he could pull the trigger, a wave of sound knocked him off his feet and into the nearest wall. Jazz stood defiantly against the Decepticon, his speakers at the ready and door wings splayed out.

“How about a Meister?” Jazz shouted.

The sound still echoing in his head, Greatshot snarled and leapt at Jazz as Bumblebee and Perceptor quickly fled from the room. Jazz dug his feet into the ground as the much larger machine bashed into him, cross blocking his claws from hitting his head. The Decepticon’s talons dug deeper into his arms, and Jazz reacted with a swift headbutt. Greatshot stumbled backwards and attempted to sweep his legs, only for Jazz to leap and counter with a cartwheel kick to the face.

“Not too bad for an Autobot!” Greatshot said, shaking off the dizziness. “Got some real impressive techniques!”

“Would you believe I’m a pacifist?” Jazz said. He cracked his neck before continuing with, “I thought that a bounty hunter would know better than to go in all guns a-blazing! It’s all about countering!”

“That so? Well, then…” Greatshot pulled out his blaster again. “Try countering a gun!”

Jazz instantly put up a skyboom shield to counter the blast, but Greatshot didn’t fire. Quickly switching out his weapons, Greatshot fired a net at Jazz, wrapping him up and sending him careening onto his face.

Greatshot cackled as he bolted out of the room. “Punk!”

Meanwhile, Optimus and Megatron had taken their battle to the engine room. The leaders grappled against the roaring engines, the Decepticon armed with only a dagger and the Autobot with his gauntlets. Currently, Megatron had him in a headlock and Optimus was straining to stay conscious.

“Where’s your cannon and boasts of grandeur, Megatron?” Optimus asked. “It isn’t like you to resort to shadows and subterfuge!”

Megatron cackled. “Are you so surprised a Decepticon would resort to deception? Consider it a return to form!”

“Remarkable then, that you waste all your time on villainous speeches!” Optimus shouted. He ripped the tyrant off himself with a one-armed shoulder throw. “Why even bother attacking an unarmed exploration vessel? What have you to gain from this?”

Megatron pulled himself off the ground before responding, “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Prime?”

Optimus raised an eyebrow.

Megatron’s face twisted with rage. “If you hadn’t already signed your own death warrant all those cycles ago, that little remark certainly confirmed it.” The tyrant charged at him, Optimus readied his electrical gauntlets to strike, and they collided.

Greatshot prowled down the corridors of the Septennium in search of the bridge. Without warning, Bumblebee swung an axe at Greatshot’s head. The bounty hunter couldn’t tell if he was impressed or amused by the kid’s effort.

“Aw, did ya learn how to use that all by yerself?” Greatshot mocked.

The Septennium shuttered violently as a massive power discharge and Megatron’s shout of anguish echoed through the halls, and seconds later he limply tumbled from the bottom of the ship.

“Oh, crike.” Greatshot mumbled.

Without another word, he blasted a hole through the floor and dove through, shifting into his fighter jet mode. He searched the lower area until he saw the tell-tale red and blue paint scheme of Starscream, who was currently opening fire on Ultra Magnus with the rest of his seekers.

“Change of plans, mate!” Greatshot yelled, dragging Starscream down with him as he touched down. “We’re leaving right now!”

Starscream shoved Greatshot away as he landed. “Oh! Really? Because the last I checked, we’ve got these pathetic little Autobots on the ropes!”

“Look, dimwit, if you’d just take a look around, or I dunno, above ya!”

“Give me one good reason why we should retreat, Greatshot! Give me one good reason we should retreat!” Starscream bellowed.

The rapidly descending form of Megatron proceeded to hammer Starscream a good thirteen feet into the ground.

“Fair point.” The seeker mumbled from beneath forty tons of steel.

Greatshot quickly pulled Megatron off the flattened commander, and the two fled back to the Yottabyte. The rest of the Decepticons that had once been attacking turned and realized that their leader had fallen; they quickly abandoned their targets and regrouped as their own starship began to take off. As Megatron was quickly rushed to Flatline’s care and the doors closed, Flipside’s steely gaze cut through Jetfire like a sword.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Jetfire joked. “Looks like it’s smooth sailing from here on out!”

The Autobots on the frontline cheered, but their victory was short lived. The right engine suddenly combusted without a warning, stunning both Autobot and Decepticon alike. Massive chunks of the ship’s outer plating began to crumble off and fall to the ground, nearly crushing the retreating Decepticons and Autobots. The Septennium’s crew wasn’t doing too well on the inside, either. As the flames grew higher and engulfed the outside, Optimus raced down the hallways, desperately trying to find this rest of his crew.

“Uh, big bot?” Bumblebee asked as he ran towards Optimus. “I got a question! Do you know why the ship’s caught fire?”

Optimus picked up Bumblebee and hefted him over his shoulder. Bumblebee shrieked and squirmed in his grip as Optimus kicked down the door to the main bridge.

“Everyone, into a stasis pod!” Optimus shouted. “We’re going to have to make a crash landing! We’ll mend the damages when we reawaken on the other side!”

“But Prime!” Perceptor cried. “The coordinates keep rerouting us away from our intended destination! From what I can determine, it’s as if this vessel has obtained a processor of its own!”

Jazz took Perceptor’s hand and dragged him away from the computer. “Computer’s just overheating, Perce! We’ll be fine, let’s go!”

The four Autobots quickly rushed to the stasis pods and entered, one by one. Before his eyes dulled and the world went dark, a singular thought crossed Optimus’ processor.

“By the Maker, may we survive.”

The shuttle was only mere seconds from entering the portal when the main engine exploded.

Jetfire froze in his tracks and screamed. “OPTIMUS!”

Flames engulfed the exploration shuttle as the vessel plummeted through the spacebridge, scraping the right of its hull on the bottom. Hot Rod could only stare in horror as it vanished from sight in a horrifying explosion of white.

With that, he woke up.

Rubbing the grogginess from his eyes, Hot Rod rose off his recharging slab with a groan. It had been some time since he’d last had that nightmare, but the memory still burned like an iron in the back of his processor. He took a look at the clock at the side of his berth, and then looked again.

Late for another one of Alpha Trion’s meetings! Internally, he cursed himself for always managing to sleep through his alarms. Quickly shifting into his alt-mode, Hot Rod burst out the front door and sped out onto the busy street. Sidling up to a green van, he whistled sharply and tried to strike up a conversation.

“Springer!” he said. “Hey, bud! So, how’ve you been, how’s life?”

“Slept through your alarms again, didn’t ya?” replied Springer.

“Look, that’s for me to deal with and you to… infer.” Hot Rod sheepishly defended. “I just need you to help me clear a path. Remember that one shortcut right by Macadam’s?”

“Wait. Isn’t that the one that’s under- oh no.” Springer’s voice reached a nervous pitch as Hot Rod’s plan became startlingly clearer.

“Great!” Hot Rod said. “Just find an opening through those other lanes and make me enough space so I can get through. I’ll pay you back, I promise!”

Springer ex-vented deeply and Hot Rod honked his horn in glee. Speeding up, his HUD scanned the freeway until he locked onto a particularly slow-moving dump truck. The loud screech of Springer’s tires suddenly changing course and cutting off the dump truck, along with other bots slamming on their brakes, honking angrily and hurling other verbal abuse spooked Hot Rod, but it gave him the chance he needed to speed through.

Bobbing and weaving through the traffic, Hot Rod floored it until he hit the alleyway. The narrow walls scraped the sides of his paintjob, but he could see the construction site clear as day. Bursting out of the alley and plowing down the detour signs, Hot Rod jumped the ramp, his chassis performing a 360 and slamming hard onto the ground. Shifting back to robot mode, he limped off the shocks still coursing through his system and limped up to the citadel’s front door.

“Hey, I’m still three minutes early!” He remarked, looking at the analog clock overhead.

Before he could enter the building, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder and flipped him around. Hot Rod nervously chuckled as he faced down the Enforcer. Prowl glowered back at him.

“Hot Rod,” he said. “A quick word?”

“Uh…” Hot Rod’s eyes flickered to the ground as he racked his processor for a retort. “Velocity?”

“Don’t get cute with me.” Prowl snapped. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Actually, I don’t, so if you’d kindly stop being vague and actually explain yourself, I’d really appreciate it…” Hot Rod said, trying to pull Prowl’s hands off.

“Well, let’s see…” Prowl released his grip as he began to list off Hot Rod’s offenses on his digits. “Speeding, moving violations, vandalism, civil disobedience… I’d say that just about covers it! Unless there’s something else you wanna tell me.”

Hot Rod rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve just got a lot on the datarax recently.”

“Everybody has solar cycles like that. Doesn’t make you above the law, kid.” Prowl huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “And I doubt Alpha Trion’s going to keep covering for you forever.”

“Oh. You mean like how he covers for you?” Hot Rod quipped.

Prowl narrowed his eyes and turned on his heel, shifting into his alt-mode and driving off. Hot Rod ex-vented and entered the citadel, hurrying up to the second floor. The red neon lights of Swerve’s lit like a lighthouse on a rocky shore, and Hot Rod rushed to clock in before he’d get another penalty.

As soon as he’d finished, he felt the familiar fervent tapping on his shin plating. Looking down, he saw the walleyed grin of his boss, Swerve.

Swerve’s usual peppy demeanor shined through as he said, “Hot Rod, my main man! Got a special order for ya over in Tyger Pax! Real big order! Hop to it! Don’t worry about AT’s regular, Mirage said he’s gonna cover it!”

“Wait, Mirage?” Hot Rod asked. “But Mirage said he was gonna cover my shift tomorrow, how’s he supposed to-?!”

“He did, huh? Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’ll even out in the end!” The minibot paid Hot Rod no mind as he proceeded to stack container after container into his unwilling grasp. Hot Rod’s knees buckled as Swerve darted around with all the agility of a squirrel.

“An’ one more bit!” Swerve added, slamming a drink container onto the stack in Hot Rod’s arms. “Don’t forget to smile!”

Shoving Hot Rod out the front, Swerve waved him off and slammed the doors shut.

“Oh, yeah. Living the dream.” Hot Rod sighed.

--

The sun was shining on a beautiful summer day in Eastpointe, and Skylar Park was already taking full advantage of it. Pedaling her bike down the tree-lined road, she breathed in the warm afternoon air and sighed cheerfully. High school was finally over, and all she’d have to worry about now was mosquito season. That, and the parcel she was carrying in her bicycle’s front basket.

Parking her bike in front of the auto shop, Skylar walked up to the window and peered inside. Manning the counter was Jens Reinhardt, stoic as ever as he wiped down the counter. Pulling the bag from her basket, Skylar entered the building, the bell above the door ringing and calling Jens’ attention.

“Sky,” he said as he put the rag away. “What brings you here today? Don’t tell me that the back wheel fell off Lady again.”

Skylar approached the counter and said, “Nah, car’s fine! I went beachcombing.”

“Thought you hated the beach.” Jens said.

“As long as I don’t get in the water, I’ll be fine. So, you know what this thing is?” Skylar asked, quickly changing the subject as she opened the bag and dumped its contents onto the counter.

Jens frowned as the sand and rocks spilled onto the freshly cleaned surface. He quizzically stared at the flat metal object, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. He gently huffed and handed it back to her. “Looks to me like it’s some real beat up and rusty skeg. Nothing too out of the blue.”

“You sure? I could’ve sworn it was an axe or a knife, or… stuff like that.” Skylar wondered aloud as she squinted at her own reflection in the metal. “Though that’d lead to a couple more questions.”

He snorted. “What, you hope we’re gonna get Vikings washing up on our shores?”

“I was thinking a little more high-tech.” she volleyed back with a giggle. “Like, what if this thing was part of a battlecruiser, or a prototype for a jet car?”

“A jet car?” Jens asked, shaking his head. “Building a jet car in your backyard, what won’t you think of next?”

“That’s more Elise’s thing.” Skylar said with a shrug. “I like knowing how mechanical things work, just not… building mechanical things. I’d probably lose an eyeball if I tried making anything other than a potato gun.”

They both laughed at that, and then Skylar grew silent. As she twisted a lock of her hair around her finger, Jens could tell she was desperately trying to find a way to keep the conversation going but didn’t have a clue on what to say next. He began to clean off the counter again, but she still seemed to be lost in thought, plunging the two into an awkward silence.

“Do you need me to check up on you later tonight?” Jens asked. “Or get groceries, or…”

“No, it’s only four more days. It’s just nice to have somebody to talk to.” Skylar turned to leave. “You can keep the thingy. I’ll call her later.”

Skylar left the shop and got back on her bike as she headed home. People either far younger or far older than she were the only people that had stayed in this town, the rest of her class having all left for summer vacation or permanently moved away as soon as they could. And with her mother and sister out of town, it didn’t help matters.

At the age of seventeen (nearly eighteen), she was old enough to look after herself, but it didn’t do much to help with how isolated from everyone else she’d felt. At least she had Elise. Elise was only two and a half years older than she was, but they were inseparable from the day that they’d met. Skylar couldn’t ask Elise to stay with her forever, nor had the thought had never crossed her mind, but the friendship they shared was enough to keep her from moping around all the time.

Something caught her attention for a split second as she pulled her bike up to the garage. A glint of silver metal poking out of the heavily wooded backyard glared in her eyes, blinding her for a moment. When she blinked, it was gone. Skylar shook it off and went inside.

While the Septennium’s cloaking device kept it hidden from animals and humans, it still was a victim to the elements. Dirt, rocks, branches, water stains and leaves coated the once pristine steel ground. Plant life had begun to grow up in between the cracks and holes bored into the sides of the ship, rendering certain consoles and technology absolutely useless. Despite all this, the ship remained in sleep mode, keeping its four passengers sound asleep.

Sound asleep until this very day.

“Optimus! Optimus!”

The Autobot leader’s vision swam as he tried to open his eyes. He felt uncharacteristically sluggish, his systems barely operating at half their strength. In front of the door, he swore he could see the figure of a silver-hued flight-frame, but he couldn’t make out their face or designation. The latch opened, and out he collapsed, falling into the arms of both Jazz and Perceptor.

“What… what happened?” Optimus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jazz looked around at their dilapidated surroundings. “If I had to guess, we crashed. And not on Archa-7, by the looks of it.”

Perceptor nodded. “Indeed. I was afraid of this when our vessel’s systems overloaded. I haven’t been able to get them to function properly in the slightest.”

Optimus’ eyes flickered over to Bumblebee’s stasis pod, still locked. “Bumblebee. Did he not survive…?”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s another thing I haven’t gotten to function properly.” Perceptor responded, releasing Optimus and walking over to the pod. Jazz yelped as Optimus’ full weight nearly floored him, but Perceptor paid it no mind as he rested his hand on the door. “Rest assured that his vital signs are still at proper functioning capacity, but for the spark of me, I can’t get the latch undone. Breaking it open would be too risky... oh! Jazz, are you alright there?”

Jazz struggled to keep Optimus and himself on his feet as he grumbled, “Yeah. Sure. No problem at all!”

“Excellent!” Perceptor obliviously trilled. “Though it may be aided by a power surge, I’m not entirely positive where’d we’d find a current strong enough. Perhaps we could look for materials outside, but I’ve not a clue on what it’s like out there.”

Optimus shoved himself off Jazz with a grunt and shuffled his way to the main console. “I’ll do it.”

“Ah, no need to strain yourself!” Perceptor quickly strode over to his side. “You’re still clearly exhausted, and I’m certain that we can find an alternate solution of solving the problem…”

“I’m fine,” Optimus suddenly snapped as he laid his hands on the counter. “I just need to clear my head and think back on how we got here.”

Perceptor nervously took a few steps back and shared a confused look with Jazz. Their leader’s plating shuddered as he steadied himself, venting and ex-venting gently. He removed one of his gauntlets and tensed his hand as an electrical pulse darted around his digits. Placing it back on the computer, the power roared to life, filling the entire room with light.

As the machinery restored itself back to normal, the hinges on Bumblebee’s stasis pod unlocked, sending the door flying across the room with a loud bang. Bumblebee fell to his knees as he fell out, clutching his head in his hands.

“Bee, you’re alright!” Jazz said, rushing over to him. “C’mon, little buddy! You’re okay! You’re- oh, slag.”

Bumblebee was certainly alright, but he was significantly older now than when he’d entered the pod. He’d passed through his final version of cyber-puberty within stasis and was none the wiser what had happened. Optimus and Perceptor were just as stunned as Jazz, the latter absolutely horrified at what had occurred.

“Talk about a rough landing.” Bumblebee muttered, unaware of his current state. “Wait, what happened to my voice? It’s never glitched out like this before…”

Struggling up to his feet, Bumblebee’s optic sensors readjusted to the bright light, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Guys? Why’re you all looking at me like that? It’s not that bad! It’s just a little…”

As he spoke, he caught sight of himself in his own discarded axe. He slowly walked over to the axe and lifted it up, mouth agape as he examined every inch of his new face. Looking down and staring at his taller frame, his jaw clicked shut and he gulped. His axle buckled as he tried to turn before he straightened himself and faced the rest of the team.

“Well, I’ve still got the bum wheel.” He sighed.

Perceptor slowly walked up to Bumblebee. “Bumblebee. Do you not realize what this… metamorphosis of yours entails?”

“That I’m gonna have to learn how to shave?” He quipped.

“No! It means that not only have we crashed, but we’ve been in stasis lock for cycles on end!” Perceptor shouted.

Optimus, realizing the severity of the situation, quickly turned on the radio and began to send a distress call. "This is Optimus Prime! Requesting immediate assistance; our ship has been set off course by-”

Before he could finish, the radio burst into flames. Perceptor yelped and clung to Optimus for safety.

“Guys. Calm down. Okay, so what if we lost our ship? And the radio? We can just get it rebuilt at the nearest body shop!” Bumblebee’s memories caught up to his train of thought as his eyes grew wider. “And we’re not on Cybertron anymore- WE’RE NOT ON CYBERTRON.”

Jazz quickly grabbed Bumblebee, sensing his terror.

“Hey, hey. Bee, clam down, okay. Tranquillo.” Jazz embraced him and gave him a comforting pat on the cheek, but Bumblebee’s engine was still audibly turning in panic, causing his whole body to shake.

Perceptor tapped his chin and opined, “Although, there may be some merit to this. If we take a scan of Bumblebee, we may be able to figure out how long we’ve been gone.”

Jazz let go of Bumblebee. “Wait, are you saying we can carbon date Bumblebee and figure out how long we’ve been trapped in stasis?”

Perceptor shrugged. “It’s a reasonable suggestion, I believe.”

Bumblebee’s face dropped. He rushed over to his axe and grabbed it. “Don’t touch me!”

Perceptor clicked his tongue. “Now, that’s no way to act. It’s just a simple matter of scanning your systems and disinterring your wiring casing.”

“Nope!” Bumblebee held the axe over his head and glared. “The more you talk, the more you’re gonna freak me out!”

“Everyone stop getting at each other’s throats, now. I have a plan.” Optimus was the next to speak up, having practically glued himself to the computer to help them figure out what was going on. “It’s true that we’re stranded here, but that doesn’t mean that all hope is lost. We’ll get off this planet, but we’ll have to work together. Not just with each other, but with the creatures that call this world their home. And in order to do that, we’ll have to blend in with them.”

The dusty screen lit up with schematics of three vehicles. One was a Lamborghini, another a Corvette, and the third a Peterbilt big rig.

“Oh. So, we’re changing everything about ourselves to make someone else happy? Cool.” Bumblebee said, rolling his eyes and lowering his axe.

Perceptor laughed. “Ah, wonderful! You’ve already come to grips with the impressive upper range of teenage sass.”

“Hey! I’m not wrong!” Bumblebee shouted defensively.

“I can see why you’ve got your reservations about this but facing the unknown head on is an eventuality of life.” Optimus said with a nod. “Let’s roll out and see what we can find.”

--

Arcee soared over the shipping district of Iacon, gently descending from the cloud cover as the hot pink airplane zeroed in on an apartment block right beside the docks. With the short field landing accounted for, she slowly transformed into robot mode and touched down with a three-point landing.

“Show off.”

Arcee looked behind herself with a soft gasp in surprise, only to be greeted by Springer, who was quickly pulling up to the block as well.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little theatrical flair, you know.” she said, an overdramatic huff hinging on her voice. “So! What’s new with you, Springer?”

Springer shrugged. “Hot Rod kept blowing me off whenever he had free days and he said this was the only day we could work something out. Said we could watch a movie or something.”

“Huh, me too. Guess we’re all going, then!” Arcee laughed.

It took only a moment for the two of them to put the pieces together. Springer hoofed to the apartment door and pounded on it.

“Springer, Springer! Wait! Stop!” Arcee held her arm out in front of him. “Let’s not jump to conclusions! Besides, there’s a better way to do this.”

Arcee kicked the door down and walked inside. “See? That’s way more efficient.”

Making their way into the tiny apartment, they noticed that the place was significantly tidier than how Hot Rod usually left rooms. The television was roaring, but instead of Hot Rod on the couch, it was Blurr. The minibot acknowledged them with a nod, went back to watching, and then immediately turned the television off as his head snapped back to look at them.

“Hi.” He squeaked out.

Springer blinked off the confusion before turning to Arcee. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Don’t jump to conclusions, huh?”

“Oh, yes. Because Blurr crashing at Hot Rod’s place is so suspicious, right?” Arcee quipped, rolling her eyes. She plopped herself on the couch next to him and stretched out. “Look, it’s not like Hot Rod to go back on a promise, I’m sure he’s just running late.”

“He’s been running late for the past couple vorns, Arcee.” Springer snapped. “We barely ever see the guy anymore! Even on his days off!”

“Huh, sounds wild. Real wild.” Blurr’s eyes had been nervously darting between them arguing, and he quickly attempted to get off the couch. “I sure wish I could tell you I knew what I knew, but I really gotta be heading out now-!”

“Stay.” Arcee strong-armed him back onto the couch. “I never said you didn’t know anything, just that Springer needs to stop being so trigger-happy. Blurr, if something were wrong with Hot Rod, you’d tell us, right?”

“Of- of course I would, ‘Cee. It’s just… hoo boy.” Blurr’s voice quickened as he got nervous. “I – I mean if it was like, a girl he had a crush on and he confessed that he had feelings for her and she said she had a thing for him but she really was just saying that to make him feel better but in reality she made it way worse because he saw her snuggling with her Fated when he was out and about and now he’s heartbroken over that it’d be something I could tell you, but!”

Blurr vented in deep before finishing. “But I can’t. He hasn’t told me anything. He just said he wanted me to make sure that nobody asked any questions if he had to be gone somewhere for a while.”

“Gone?” Springer asked. “Gone where?”

“It’s nowhere it’s just, uh. The, uh.” Blurr put his hand over his mouth as he tried to figure how to best break the news. “You know how when a really big tragedy happens, people put, like… stuffed creatures and plant life at the scene? I think that’s what he’s doing whenever he says he’s gotta head over to Delta-1.”

Springer and Arcee’s faces dropped.

“How long’s this been going on?” she asked.

“It’s kinda recent, actually.” Blurr admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I caught him in the middle of leaving and he told me that he’d pay me as long as I kept this place looking like it was lived in and didn’t tell anyone.”

Springer gripped the side of the door and stared at the ground, lost in thought. He turned on his heel and left. Arcee and Blurr leapt off the couch and followed him, the jet hoping he hadn’t driven off in an angry storm. Much to her relief, he was still outside the apartment, his engine idling in his alt-mode.

“You guys coming or what?” he shouted up to them.

“Sure!” Arcee picked up the remains of the door. “Just lemme fix this first!”

Springer, Arcee, and Blurr parked in front of the Delta-1 base. They transformed and entered the now long abandoned area, as a feeling of unease washed over them. Pieces of the Septennium’s hull still lay in the courtyard, and Sentinel’s watchtower loomed above the area as if there was still someone in there, silently watching their every move. Inside the base wasn’t any less black; it was dull and musty from disuse, and barely any of the lights were still functioning.

“Hot Rod! Hot Rod! Where’d you go?” Arcee called out, her voice echoing off the sides of the walls. “It’s us! Are we gonna go see this movie or what?”

“Tell me the truth. Springer looked down at Blurr. “Did he ever tell you what he was doing here?”

“Nope.” Blurr said as he shook his head. “He just told me to cover for him whenever he needed to stick around here.”

Springer raised an eyebrow and asked. “Stick around here? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Anyone ever tell you not to shoot the messenger? I just told you two seconds ago, and it’s what I keep telling you; I haven’t got any idea what he’s doing here!” Blurr shouted in reply.

Arcee sharply whistled. “Guys, I think I found something! Get over here!”

Springer and Blurr rushed over to her and found her standing in front of a heavy steel door. From the other side, they could hear still-active machinery whirring and clicking. Unsure of what they’d find on the other side, Arcee grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. Where once there was an empty hangar intended for aircraft carriers and shuttles was a massive sprawling tower of twisted metal. It’s crisscrossing inner structure was lit up like a switchboard, humming and whirring loudly.

And perched on a pedestal right at the top working on an antenna-like protrusion, his own helm mere centimeters from scraping the roof, was Hot Rod.

“Hi, guys!” Hot Rod shouted down. “Just gimme a couple more megakliks, I’ll be right down!”

“How long have you been here working on this?” Arcee asked. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Hot Rod did not respond. Arcee grit her teeth and took a step forward, only for her boot to crush something underfoot. Looking down, she saw scores of cans coating the ground. High grade, Low grade, all sorts of junk food; one could barely see the ground beneath it all. Even Blurr and Springer had to wince at the sorry sight.

“Go home. I’m fine.” Hot Rod said.

Arcee’s tone grew more concerned. “I can’t go home, Roddy. Not without you. This isn’t healthy.”

Once again, Hot Rod ignored her. Arcee clicked her heels and activated her boosters, propelling herself up to his level and sitting down beside him. Hot Rod briefly looked her way, but he remained focused on the antenna. Blurr was the next to join him, speeding up onto the platform with a few short bounds. Hot Rod’s concentration was finally broken when Springer attempted to heft himself up using a crate and nearly slipped.

“So… what is it?” Springer asked once he’d pulled his frame onto the ledge.

“Communications tower,” Hot Rod said. “Pretty basic stuff. But it’ll help him out, either way!”

“Him?” Blurr asked. “You’re not talking about-?”

“Optimus?” Hot Rod finished. “Yeah, I am. What kinda sparkless ‘Bot would leave another guy stranded, right? Soon as I connect the red wire to the black one and… something else, I’ll be able to get all the distress calls this side of Sandra!”

“Rod, I doubt you’re gonna get anything from him.” Springer huffed.

“Well, yeah, you’re probably right.” Hot Rod said, tapping his chin. “Perceptor’s probably gonna be the one to make it, you know how his nerves get…”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Springer said, a noticeable edge forming on his voice. He stepped forward, hands clenched in anger, but Arcee grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Springer, chill.” She whispered.

Hot Rod was undeterred by Springer’s pessimism as he continued. “And of course, after that happens, I’ll find a way to call him back, and after I call him back we can arrange to open up another spacebridge, and then we’ll decide whether to fix his ship or get him back first, but that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we get to it.”

“But for now, you’re out here, wasting your time in an abandoned old base, going off a feeling that you can’t even prove!” Springer shouted, pulling his arm from Arcee’s grip. “How’s this supposed to help anything but your sense of nostalgia, Rod?”

“I know what I’m doing, alright?!” Hot Rod barked, his tone growing harsher. Springer took a step back as Arcee cringed. Seeing their fearful expressions, Hot Rod huffed and lowered his voice.

"There can't just be nothing out there! Cybertronians used to travel across the stars once upon a time, they have to have landed somewhere that we could reach them, right?"

“Hot Rod, bud.” Blurr finally spoke up. “When you told me about this plan of yours, I thought you’d get over it in a decacycle or so, but it’s gotten worse. And Kup told me to look after you, and I can’t keep… I can’t keep acting like this is okay. You gotta let it go. It wasn’t your fault.”

Hot Rod looked at his three friends, and then at the ground.

“At least let me turn it on.” He choked out. “Please. That’s the only way I can put this to rest.”

The three ‘bots shared a look. Arcee shrugged with a lopsided grin, Blurr bounced his eyebrows, and Springer sighed.

“Alright. Fine. We’ll turn it on.” He said. “And then you’ll clean up all these cans and leave this dusty old joint forever, promise?”

“I dunno, I’ve kinda got used to this place.” Hot Rod said, which earned him a playful smack on the back of the head courtesy of Arcee. “Kidding, kidding! Alright, lemme just hit the switch.”

Hot Rod connected the wires and shifted into his alt-mode, shooting off the pedestal and landing on the high-rise paths that encircled the area, the rest following suit. The power box, which his friends could only assume he’d rigged up himself with all the haphazard wires sticking out of it, was the only thing standing in Hot Rod’s way.

“Digits crossed, everyone! Here goes nothing!” Hot Rod shouted, and he confidently grabbed the handle and slammed the lever down.

The tower crackled as a bridge of electricity arced up and down its frame. For only a moment, it seemed as if the only feedback they’d get was the rumbling static from the dusty old radio. Through the gibberish, a message started to become clearer and clearer, until Optimus’ unmistakable voice rang through the empty room.

“This is Optimus Prime! Requesting immediate assistance; our ship has been set off course by- This is Optimus Prime! Requesting immediate assistance; our ship has been set off course by- This is Optimus Prime! Requesting immediate assistance; our ship has been set off course by-”

Hot Rod’s face lit up. “I knew it.”

--

The planet that the Autobots had landed on was nothing like Optimus had ever seen before. Machines and organics worked side by side, transporting and fueling each other. He couldn’t quite figure out how exactly they’d managed to come to this symbiotic relationship if they never seemed to talk to each other, but he reasoned that actions of goodwill and unity were a universal language all their own.

Bumblebee’s voice crackled over his commlink. “Optimus, this place is way too crowded.”

“Have you lost yourself in the sights?” Optimus asked.

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

Contrarywise, Bumblebee wasn’t having much luck figuring out where he could find the city’s leader. Nobody he talked to seemed to acknowledge his existence, and the organics walking up and down the streets probably wouldn’t understand him, either. The compact size of the settlement frustrated Bumblebee to no end; where were the robots supposed to live and stretch out their limbs?

At last he found somewhere that seemed to be built just for his kind. A concrete vertical stack filled to the brim with other robots in their alternate modes. He quickly pulled over and drove up the ramp, finally no longer feeling alienated. He was soon to be disappointed, as they too seemed to ignore his very existence, not even flashing their headlights, or honking to acknowledge he was behind them.

Bumblebee stopped driving and wondered aloud, “What kinda place is this?”

A small door opened, and another one of the small organic creatures exited the building. The vehicles all ignored it as well as it spoke into a com-link on the side of its head. It pressed a button in its hand, and a vehicle beeped in response.

“Hey! Hey, you! Could you help me out, here?” Bumblebee called out to them. “Look, I’m from out of town, so to speak, and I’m kinda lost and cold and I can’t find a single-!”

The organic creature entered the inert vehicle, then piloted the shell out of the area and onto the road.

Bumblebee idled for what seemed like hours, and then took off in the opposite direction at breakneck speed. He had to warn the others.

--

“Find yourself an alt-mode yet, Perce?” Jazz asked.

The scientist in question had been at this for hours. While one could find alternate modes for cars and trucks quickly enough, Perceptor was having much more trouble trying to blend in with his far rarer shape and alt-mode. Much to their surprise, the vast majority of microscopes were either far too large for Perceptor’s frame, or far too small and completely immovable.

“I would be remiss were I not to address that I’ll still be fairly incapable of movement even after my reformatting.” Perceptor stated. “However, I believe that I have found an acceptable alternate mode that will exponentially aid us in identifying the life on this planetoid.”

He pulled up an image of an electron-transmission microscope. Jazz gave an impressed whistle. “Snazzy.”

“Indeed.” Perceptor replied with a nod. “Hopefully, I still remember to do this…”

The schematics for the microscope flashed onto the screen, Perceptor scanning it immediately. Taking a step back and holding out his arms, Perceptor’s body began to glow a brilliant shade of blue and transform itself, kibble rearranging itself and colors shifting to properly mask what would become his terrestrial disguise. His body then folded into itself, mass shifting and contorting its new configuration into its new alt-mode.

Shifting back into his robot mode, Perceptor gave a satisfied laugh. “Functional, yet attractive.”

The bay doors opened, and Optimus drove through, transforming back into his robot mode as soon as he hit the central hub.

“Optimus! You have fun out there?” asked Jazz.

“Not exactly. I’m afraid that I’m not the best at gathering intel as our other members are.” Optimus said. As if on cue, in sped the little yellow car trailing mud. “Ah. And there he is right now! I’m sure that he’s gained more than enough information about this planet to help us. Isn’t that right, Bumblebee?”

Optimus comfortingly placed his hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder. Bumblebee stared blankly at the wall, clad with a thousand-yard stare that could cut through a battleship.

“…Bumblebee?”

Bumblebee looked up at Optimus before croaking out, “Get this ship off the ground. Right now.”

“Bee? What’s wrong?” Jazz asked.

Bumblebee did not respond as he shoved Optimus’ hand from his shoulder, pushed Jazz out of the way and rushed to the main computer, rapidly punching in coordinates. Despite the ship’s monitors flashing violently that it didn’t have enough energy to take off, Bumblebee kept at it, frantically muttering the whole time.

“Should’ve never gotten on this ship, should’ve never gone on this trip, this was the worst mistake of my whole life,” After a few more taps and many more ignored warnings, the computer instantly activated its anti-tampering protocols and shut down. Bumblebee’s voice reached a desperate pitch as he shook the screen. “Oh, come on! We gotta get the slag off this planet before we’re all dead!”

“Bumblebee, what do you plan to accomplish with these shenanigans?” Perceptor asked, prying the hysterical scout from the monitors. “Have you not been able to ascertain that this shuttle is utterly intransigent?”

Squirming frantically, Bumblebee countered with, “Well excuse me if I don’t want to have my head scooped out like a cereal bowl!”

Perceptor’s grip loosened as Jazz and Optimus ex-vented in shock. “What?”

Bumblebee shoved Perceptor off him and began to pace the floor. Now with both wheels back on the ground, he explained. “The organics kill robots here. I saw it myself! I was in this messed up… graveyard place and this organic ripped someone open and took off in him like he was some kinda escape pod! How much longer do you think it’ll be before they figure out that we’re still online?”

Optimus held out his hand and shouted sternly, “Bumblebee, that’s enough! Calm down. Are you sure that your processor wasn’t just playing tricks on you? We can’t judge them so quickly.”

“Yeah, yeah. More than meets the- oh, who cares?!” Bumblebee yelled back. He stopped pacing and ex-vented hard. “I’m not about to have my insides ripped out and made into a nest for one of those things!”

Optimus’ gaze slowly drifted to the ground as he thought about what Bumblebee had said. He didn’t want to discount the young bot’s fears; seeing his friend so upset shook him to his core. But from what he saw, the organics were just the same as them, just as caring, just as social. They couldn’t all be murderers, for spark’s sake! Maybe this was just a misunderstanding or a coincidence, or-

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something – no, someone – staring back at him. He turned on his wheel and looked down at her. The rest of the crew followed suit and gaped at the tiny intruder. Terrified, the organic weakly raised a hand in greeting.

“So… my name’s Sky.” she said.

Bumblebee passed out immediately.

Rain was uncommon on Cybertron.

Normally, it signaled the seasons changing, and it was a force of nature that could not be reckoned with. The sky would open up and the entire planet would practically be waterlogged within a matter of hours. Aquatic frames would revel in this short respite as aerial and ground frames held fast in their cities, the necessary setback performing a much-needed service to its people.

But as the rain slowly poured down with no glorious fanfare on the neon backlit lights of Polyhex’s downtown area and the roof of her pickup truck alt-mode, Astraea couldn’t help but ponder the pointlessness of it all.

No, not pointlessness. Mundanity.

That’s how her life had felt ever since the attack on that one Autobot base. Megatron’s plans had gone horribly awry and resulted in a nearly fatal injury. While his processor was intact, Shockwave and Dedos had told them that it was his body that had suffered the most from the electric burst that Optimus had unleashed, and they were unsure if he’d ever physically recover.

An army would still fight even if it had lost its leaders, she had reckoned. But as the cycles passed with Megatron’s condition stagnating, even the most die-hard Decepticons simply lost their will to continue fighting in a war that had ended just as swiftly as it had begun. Many of them simply went to work in the factories or dropped out of the effort entirely.

Astraea wouldn’t give up; she’d blame her spark and profession on that. Any time a Decepticon went missing or was injured in a work-related accident, she would blame it on an Autobot or some form of covert sabotage. Despite claims and insults that her own processor was deteriorating, she stayed firm in her beliefs. The cycles she’d spent lying in wait for an Autobot counter strike or ambush had done nothing to slow her down.

Times had changed. She had not.

So, when Blitzwing had given her a call and invited her for a night out with Motormaster and Flamewar, something in her begged that this was a coverup for something more.

Or another bounty hunting job at last. She would’ve preferred either.

The Red Light was certainly no Macadams, but it was a welcome sight to Astraea’s tired optics all the same. She shifted into robot mode and entered. The dimly lit interior and cacophony of the other patrons did nothing to deter Astraea from finding her friends; she’d reckoned she could recognize their shells from a mile away just by the light glinting off their paint jobs.

Blitzwing sat on the right, one digit impatiently drumming on the table. Motormaster sat on the left seeming to be glaring at his own reflection in his high grade. The only bot that seemed to be missing was Flamewar, but the distant chittering and scuttling noises barely audible over the din were enough to clue her in that she wasn’t far. A flash of black and red darted past her leg as the mini scrambled under the table and resurfaced to perch on Blitzwing’s shoulder. Astraea smiled and took her seat.

“Howdy,” she said. “And what can I do for you fine gentlemen this time of the night?”

“Dispense of the pleasantries, if you would.” Blitzwing replied. “Can I not just want a night out with my most trusted friends?”

“Now I know you’ve got something real juicy for us,” Astraea said. She grinned and leaned closer. “Course you can trust me, sweetspark. Just say the word.”

Motormaster slammed his empty mug down before her, nearly clocking her in the face with it. She recoiled and quickly took note that Motormaster had significantly more empty mugs surrounding him than Blitzwing did. His optics narrowed at her as he began to speak, his voice coming out uncharacteristically raspy.

“You’ve thought you’ve got some ball bearings trying to get into everyone’s processors, don’t you, huh? But you’re wrong, damn it. I know better than you. Might think there’s honor among thieves, but that ain’t right. And I know that you’ve gonna get yourselves killed trying to frag with everyone else, you know? It’s all going to the pit in a handbasket, but I know better. Got it?”

“Uh…” Astraea’s gaze quickly shifted between Motormaster and Blitzwing, desperate for an answer.

Following this gibberish, Blitzwing rolled his optics and said, “He was here before I was, let’s put it that way.”

Astraea sighed and rubbed Blitzwing's shoulder. "Aw, don't be so rough on ol' Motormaster. What he needs is a woman's touch."

Ten minutes later she was holding his head underwater in the rain barrels outside whilst Blitzwing and Flamewar watched in bemusement.

“Feeling better, sweetspark?” she cooed.

Motormaster sputtered as she pulled his head up. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you weren’t trying to drown me!”

“Good.” She dropped his head and turned back to Blitzwing. “So, what’s the real reason you brought us here? I doubt there’s anyone moseying down the alleyway trying to get military secrets.”

“You’d be surprised. The Preds and Stunts are the roaches of this city.” Blitzwing said. He motioned with his head to Flamewar, who nodded in response. She hopped off his shoulder and opened up a panel in her forearm. The garbled playback of Optimus’ voice echoed through the alleyway. “This came from one of the communication hubs at an abandoned Autobot launch bay. Considering how nearly all their communications have been either throttled or disconnected for stellar cycles, it’s safe to assume that this isn’t just reverb.”

Astraea’s optics lit up. “When’d she get this?”

“Last night. Decrypting it was easy enough, but it does beg the question.” Blitzwing’s slender digit closed Flamewar’s panel for her. “If this truly is Optimus Prime, then what took him so long to contact the Autobots?”

Motormaster, having fully regained his bearings, had only one thing to say. “It’s Optimus Prime. You think he hasn’t got a plan? He’s probably gonna be hammering down the door to Tarn Industries any minute now.”

--
“Optic dilation is normal… organic spark seems to be in full working order… processing power is nearly at maximum. Subject appears to be covered in a bizarre soft tissue and keratin as opposed to a protective metal carapace, no bits of kibble or otherwise external armor are apparent. Ability to transform currently unknown.”

Skylar laid on the cold metal slab as Perceptor gave his analysis.

“Well, this is certainly the politest alien abduction I’ve ever been a part of.” she said under her breath.

Evidently, her voice wasn’t soft enough. Bumblebee, who had been nursing a minor head injury after he’d collapsed, gave an angry huff in reply.

“Hey, we’re not the aliens here!” he cried. “You’re the alien!”

“I live here!” Skylar shouted, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “You’ve just been chilling in my backyard for a hot minute!”

“Oh, my mistake! Sorry I interrupted your national pastime of killing Cybertronians!”

“I don’t even know what those are!”

“Enough.” Optimus’ voice cut through the start of the argument. “While I won’t pretend that there isn’t a massive culture shock regarding this planet’s transportation, you have no right to treat someone you’ve just met like this. Stand down.”

Bumblebee sputtered in an attempt to defend himself, but with a roll of his optics, he conceded with a pout and folded his arms. Optimus nodded and turned his gaze down to the organic.

“And what is your name, little one?” He asked, his voice growing softer as he tried to ease her discomfort.

“It’s Sky. And I’m seventeen. Might be little to you, but in human terms, that’s basically an adult.” Skylar pushed herself off the slab and slowly made her way over to the robot. He towered over her like a redwood tree, and she struggled to look him in the eye as she shielded her own from the cyan glint his emitted. “Did whoever built you name you, too?”

“I wasn’t built. I was spawned in the forging pits of Crystal City.” He said. Kneeling down to her level, he gently nodded his head and extended a hand to her. “My name is Optimus Prime, and it is an honor to meet you, Sky.”

“Uh, charmed.” Skylar’s hand shakily took one of his massive fingers and shook it. She took a deep breath and stepped back, pulling her hand away and using it to brush the hair out of her face. “Look. There’s a lot going on, and I’m still not sure if this is a dream…”

For the first time since the human had stepped foot in the ship, Jazz spoke up. “It is. Go back to bed.”

Neither Skylar nor Optimus had any time to react before Jazz’s speakers jutted out and aimed directly at the young girl, blaring a long droning tune that instantly pulled her into unconsciousness. With one hand, Jazz caught her before she hit the ground.

“Jazz!” Optimus chided. “What has gotten into you?”

“Can’t you see she’s scared?” Jazz shouted back. “Think about it! This isn’t just the first time we’re seeing what her kind’s like, it’s her first time she’s seeing what our kind’s like! You saw those things outside, didn’t ya?”

Bumblebee shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah. Not exactly one and the same as us.” Jazz continued, “Optimus, man. I know that you’re trying to help, but the last thing we need’s along with this busted-up ship is a scared little organic that has no idea what’s going on. She needs to get back with her kind before we cause some kinda international incident.”

Optimus knew Jazz was right. He sighed and took the human from his hand. As Optimus stepped outside the ship intent on returning her back to human society, Jazz stayed back and rubbed his chin in thought.

“So, uh… taking a wild guess here.” Jazz pointed at the building atop the hill. “But if this is a ‘back-yard’, then that’s her main compound, right?”

“I would assume as much.” Perceptor stated. But when Jazz left, he added, “Although you know what’s been said about assuming…”

The rain misted down on both the robots’ metal shells as they walked up to the human compound atop the elevated cul-de-sac. Hidden under the shade of night, both Autobots confidently felt as if they weren’t about to scare another human out of their skin. In a stroke of luck, one of the windows on the second floor was wide open. Optimus extended his hand into the window and let the human tumble gently from his palm onto the plush slab. His hand gently hovered over her form before he pulled a fabric rectangle that was lying on the side of the slab to cover her and tucked it beneath her body.

“She looked cold.”

Jazz nodded curtly. Without another word, they transformed back into their alt-modes and drove back to the base, hoping that the human’s memory would register tonight as a dream.

--
“You guys hear that sound? It’s the sound of victory!”

Morning had broken on a new day. Hot Rod, Arcee, Springer, and Blurr drove into Iacon City with a new mission on their minds: telling the Autobots that their leader was still out there. At least, that was Hot Rod’s mission. He cheered as he raced through the streets in his alt-mode, his friends not too far behind.

“Score one for obsessive paranoia.” Springer snarked.

“If it pays out, it’s not paranoia, Spring-O.” Hot Rod countered. “Alpha Trion might not hear me out, but we’ve got the second-best bot for the job!”

“Second best? This about the guy that raised you?” Arcee asked. “And why does Alpha Trion’s opinion matter, anyway?”

Hot Rod began to list off his attributes as if he’d had a set list programmed in his head. “Well, he runs this whole city, he’s got the Power of the Primes all figured out, he’s the head of the Cybertronian Pan-Alliance…”

The sharp sound of an Enforcer’s whistle stopped all four of them in their tracks. Hot Rod slammed on his brakes and quickly transformed, narrowly dodging Springer taking out his legs. Springer himself practically had to cartwheel into his robot mode to avoid slamming into a dumpster. Arcee landed behind Hot Rod, hitting the ground so quickly that she still felt the shock in her joints as she steadied herself on her feet. Blurr, the unluckiest of the bunch, proceeded to slide between the aforementioned Enforcer’s legs and crashed into the citadel’s door.

“Hi, Prowl.” The trio said in unison. Blurr groaned softly from his crumpled-up position on the ground.

“Do you have me microchipped or something?” Hot Rod asked.

“No, but I feel like we really should.” Prowl flatly stated. “Especially if you’re going to run around with ‘Bots like her.”

“Whoa, what’d I do?” Arcee asked.

The response given came in the form of Prowl presenting a wing clamp. Arcee had always hated this part of visiting Iacon City. She folded her wings down and took the clamp from him.

“Right.” She clicked the clamp on and fastened her wings down. “No fliers in Iacon.”

Prowl nodded and began to walk off. Before he left, he felt Springer’s gaze cut into him. He looked up to see the dark green ‘Bot with his arms folded against his chest, almost as if he were daring him to say something. Prowl just huffed and resumed his patrol. Hot Rod shook off the discomfort and opened the door to the building, stepping over Blurr as he did so. Springer helped Blurr up and turned to Arcee.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

Arcee leaned against the wall. “Oh, I’ll just stay out here. Apparently, I’m not welcome.”

Disappointed, Springer went inside. Quickly rejoining Hot Rod, the three ‘Bots surveyed the citadel for sight or sound of Kup; a fairly easy achievement when they’d heard him in the midst of a story. A Guardian was in the midst of bringing their spawning batch on a field trip, as could be surmised by Kup’s jubilant tenor mixed with his husky baritone echoed through the hub. Hot Rod recognized the story he was telling as an old favorite: the time Kup faced off against the Femaxian Horde.

“And there I was, all alone. Just me and a room fulla Femaxians. All the Bulks had been knocked out with stasis grenades so they could have their processors and circuits all jumbled up, but not me!” Kup gestured wildly as he told his story, the spellbound hatchlings listening in awe. “The odds were against me. The tallest of all of them was making gestures for them to rip me apart limb from limb if they caught me. I stood with only my grenade launcher behind a stasis pod, and they were closing in. I knew I had only one shot to get ‘em all at the same time, so I leapt out from behind and blasted the biggest one right in the nose!”

Hot Rod popped in. “And that’s why Kup doesn’t date anymore!”

“Aw, Hot Rod, you ruined the ending!” Kup said as the hatchlings laughed. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to come up with another one, lessee… how about the one with the Yeerks and the salt planet, eh?”

“Actually, that’s alright. That’s enough.” The Guardian said. “Let’s all thank Mister Kup for his story and move along to the next room.”

The group of hatchlings thanked the older minibot in a dissonant chorus. As they left, Kup went back to polish his old gatling gun. Hot Rod knew that Kup wasn’t about to put up with any waffling or dancing around the question, so he knew he had to choose his words carefully.

“So, what brings you here?” Kup asked.

“Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to say hi, see how things were going on at Swerve’s on my day off, get out and about with the crew…” Hot Rod was already losing track of what he wanted to say and he knew it. “You’re looking nice. How’s things been?”

Kup was unamused. “Spit it out.”

“I heard Optimus Prime’s voice, Kup!” Hot Rod blurted out.

“Did you also happen to see Astraea in a frilly sundress?” Kup retorted.

Hot Rod cocked his head in confusion. “Uh… no. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“What I’m saying is that you’ve got to let this go, kid.” Kup began.

“I know you’re gonna say,” Hot Rod cut him off before he could continue. “I know it wasn’t my fault, I never said it was my fault!”

“Actions speak louder than words, kid. I’m just shocked that Blurr didn’t get through to ya until now.”

Upon Kup’s statement, Blurr began to slowly back away, guilt mounting on his face. He could run, he knew very well that all he had to do was tap into his speedometer and he’d be halfway across the city; if it weren’t for the fact that angering Kup scared him more than facing down Megatron himself, he probably would’ve bolted by now. Was it because it would’ve made him look guiltier, or would coming up with a better lie (or waiting for someone else to) defuse the situation better?

“Oh, Blurr!” Kup had taken full notice of Blurr’s odd behavior, and his voice grew terrifyingly saccharine in response. “Come here, I’ve got something to share with you!”

“No, that’s alright. I don’t need it.”

“But I insist!” Kup gingerly took a step forward. “After all, since you’ve been such good help with Hot Rod, you deserve compensation!”

“I’m not a charity case. It’s alright.” Blurr’s hand desperately swiped behind himself, trying to grab the door’s handle.

“GET. OVER. HERE.” Kup’s tone shifted quicker than Blurr’s mind could register. From Kup’s forearm he rappelled a cable that wrapped around Blurr’s legs and knocked him to the ground. Blurr could only scream in terror as the elder bot dragged him into the other room. Once the doors had slammed behind them, Kup withdrew the cable and began to verbally tear into his fellow mini.

“Now you’d better tell me what half-cured nonsense Hot Rod’s gotten himself into this time or so help me, I’ll reformat your alt-mode into a microwave.”

“You try talking sense into Hot Rod! Guy’s got a one-gear processor!” Blurr tried to defend himself in the only way he knew how: blaming someone else. “In fact, why didn’t you try to help him? Aren’t you basically his mentor now with Prime out of the picture?”

“Don’t you get it? I’ve tried! He won’t listen to an old timer like me!” Kup snapped. “I’d hoped that you could’ve gotten through to him, but I guess I’m useless for thinking that too.”

“Hey, hey.” Blurr lifted his hands in front of himself. “Let’s not go there, alright? If you really want to know what’s going on, uh… he’s right this time. He’s built something at the old base. Slag if I know how long he’s been at this, but he got it working and-!”

Kup turned to open the door back up.

“Wait, wait, wait. Wait.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know that that makes me look worse. But!”

“…and that’s never a good way to start off a sentence.”

“But it worked.” Blurr’s stance strengthened. If he were going to try and push his point, it’d pay to look confident. “I know that I stood back and looked the other way, that’s on me. My recorder might still be a little fuzzy, but we all heard Optimus. Maybe it was a group hallucination, maybe it was archive audio, but it’s worth checking out, don’t you think?”

Kup’s grip on the handles tightened. He pushed the door open a crack and saw that one of the hatchlings had wandered back, no doubt for another story. Hot Rod picked the hatchling up and spun them around as they giggled in glee. Though he couldn’t quite make out what Hot Rod said next, the hatchling nodded and hurried back to the group after he put them down.

“You kids had better be right.” Kup said. He shifted into his alt-mode, a dune buggy, and sped out to meet the duo. “Okay, I’ll hear you out.”

“Really?” Springer threw a brow up in disbelief. “Man, talk about a toss-up. If Kup’s willing to bend, then Alpha Trion probably would’ve called you an idiot and slammed the door in our faces.”

Kup’s engine turned. “I said I’ll hear you out. I never said I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“Well, this idiot’s gonna make you proud!” Hot Rod whooped and then transformed into his alt-mode. Springer and Blurr followed suit. “You won’t regret it, I promise!”

--

Skylar’s eyes fluttered open.

Visions of giant robots still danced in her head, and she couldn’t piece together what had happened last night. She groaned as she sat up in bed and rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, pulling back a mascara stained knuckle as she pulled the blanket off herself. She’d fallen asleep with her makeup still on, that wasn’t a rarity for her. Sleeping with jeans and sneakers still on, as she quickly came to notice she had, not so much. Most damning, the bay windows were still wide open; she always remembered to close them before she went to bed.

The pieces were coming together, but she’d rather they weren’t.

A gentle knock on the door jolted her out of her daze. She’d come back to this train of thought later once she was more presentable. Changing out of her dirty clothes and quickly scrubbing off and reapplying her eyeliner, Skylar rushed to keep whoever it was at the door from waiting any longer. And there she was: tall, blonde, and deathly pale. It was Elise, in all her benign glory.

“There you are! I was trying to call you all morning, but I never got an…” Elise stopped herself mid-sentence at the sight of Skylar’s face. “Whoa. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, honest. I just had a really… I had a weird dream. Don’t worry about me.” Skylar yawned and then said, “We can go to breakfast if you’d like and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Elise’s face went pale. “Sky, it’s almost noon.”

“Say what,” Craning her neck back inside, she took note of the clock on the wall. Indeed, it was a quarter to twelve. She slowly turned her head back and gulped sheepishly. “Huh. How about that?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Elise asked.

Skylar pushed past her and marveled at the cyan Vespa parked in the driveway. “Said what I said! Anyways, your scooter looks nice. Why’d you bring it along?”

Elise perked up and said, “Oh! I’m almost done with my art exhibit! I wanted you to see it first. You know; just in case you’ve got anything you think I should add to it.”

With Elise sufficiently distracted from Skylar’s internal affairs, both girls jumped on the scooter and headed back towards Elise’s house. Skylar began to feel self-conscious though, and as she held onto Elise, she wondered what the best way was to explain what had just happened to her. After all, it wasn’t as if giant robots were a common occurrence in a Northeastern town with ten stoplights.

“Maybe I do have a problem,” Skylar started. “But I doubt it’s something you can help with. Ever feel like you saw something you shouldn’t’ve and now it’s gonna be stuck in your brain for the rest of your life, but you don’t know if it’s a sign or not?”

“Does this have to do with the dream?” Elise asked.

Skylar hummed and nodded, unsure if adding more details would make her sound crazier.

“I doubt I can really help what’s going on with your head. I’m no psychiatrist.” Elise sighed.

“You don’t have to. I just like having somebody who’ll listen.” Sky responded and hugged Elise tighter to her.

Elise and Skylar drove in silence for the next few minutes until they’d parked on her driveway. Elise dismounted with a spring in her step.

“Here we are! Wait, I’m gonna need you to cover your eyes for the full effect.” She said.

“You got it!” Skylar giggled, covering her face. “You’d better blow me away, Lisa!”

“Lo and behold, the culmination of hard work, dedication, and nearly getting third-degree burns…” Elise lifted the garage door. “My magnum opus!”

At the sound, Skylar removed her hands over her eyes. She felt her face drop as she saw what was behind the garage door.

Robots.

Robotic statues made out of junk, but robots all the same. Slender, thin, small, asymmetric, nothing like the ones she’d seen last night.

“Great, perfect.” Skylar said. “So, what was the inspiration for these… things?”

“Not sure, really. It just hit me one day.” Elise hadn’t noticed Skylar’s resignation as she walked around, introducing each one. “I’m gonna name this one Wreck-Gar, this one Rum-Maj, this one Scrap-Heap, and this one… I dunno, she looks like a Nancy to me.”

Skylar openly glared at the one she’d called Wreck-Gar. She attempted to straighten its head (an old TV from the 1970s), only for it to immediately snap back at an awkward tilt. She couldn’t help but feel like the universe itself was mocking her. Skylar groaned in annoyance and sat back down on the scooter.

“What’s the matter?” Elise asked.

“It’s nothing.” Skylar said. “It’s just… what would you do if you were face to face with something that you’d never seen before?”

Elise had a feeling that this was connected to the dream Skylar had talked about. She said with a shrug, “I’d say you face it head on.”

Skylar looked at her reflection in the dusty TV’s screen. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Back at the Septennium’s crash site, Perceptor whistled as he swept the floor. Optimus and Jazz moved bits of rubble and metal shrapnel and sorted them into a pile in the center of the room. Bumblebee sat in a chair at one of the busted control decks and lazily tapped a digit against the surface as he watched.

“So, now what?” Bumblebee. “If this is all there is and everybody thinks we’re offline, what’re we supposed to do?”

“You could start by helping out.” Jazz said.

“I am helping!” Bumblebee responded as he pressed a few random buttons. “I’m checking the security cameras! See, look! We’re all safe and s-”

Bumblebee turned to screen and shrieked. The other bots quickly ran over to see what scared him and saw Skylar standing in front of the door.

“Get out here!” She yelled. “Come out and face me like… metal men!”

“Our little friend appears to still hold a grudge.” Perceptor mumbled.

“Yeah,” Bumblebee sighed. “Well, some bot’s gotta let the little mutant down easy.”

In no time at all, Bumblebee found himself flying out the front doors, soaring over Skylar, and skidding across the leafy ground. As he lay there face down and motionless, the doors slammed shut behind him with a loud click. Bumblebee’s head popped up off the ground at the sound and he scrambled to the doors, pounding on them with all his might.

“No! No! Don’t leave me out here with this thing! C’mon, Jazz, I’ll clean your bunk for a whole vorn!”

There was no response. Bumblebee slowly turned around to face the human girl. With arms akimbo and stance wide, Skylar stared at him with the most determined contempt she could muster. Bumblebee pinned himself against the door in fear.

A tense pause filled the area.

“Does this happen to you often?” Skylar asked.

“What, the whole ‘being treated like a sentient hacky sack’ thing, or the ‘crashing a ship into a freaky alien planet and never seeing any of your friends again’ thing?” Bumblebee shouted. “Because no and no! I don’t appreciate all these questions! Can’t you gimme a break or something?”

“I was going to say visiting other planets, but I guess that works.” Skylar said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know the first thing about you guys other than one of your names. Though, uh… do the rest of you even have them? Or is that just a thing reserved for the guy in charge?”

“Yes and no.” Bumblebee said as he felt around the door, trying to see if he could manipulate it to open.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yes, we have them, no, I’m not telling you mine.”

“You don’t have to be so hostile. I’m not the one that started examining you when I first saw you.”

“You broke in!”

“The door was open!”

“WELL, IT’S NOT NOW.” Frustrated, Bumblebee headbutted the door. It remained shut. Bumblebee groaned and slammed a fist against the door in one last act of defiance. He slowly slid down to his knees and unclenched his hand, resting it against the surface. “I hate it here. I just want to go home.”

A pang of sympathy ripped through Skylar and she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. Gingerly stepping towards the giant robot, she placed her hand on his. Bumblebee flinched at the sudden touch and looked down at her. Her grip tensed slightly as she made eye contact.

“Maybe say please?” She wondered aloud.

The door opened. Standing before Skylar and Bumblebee were the rest of the Autobots. Reflexively, Bumblebee stood at attention, but with a nod of his head Optimus signaled him to be at ease. Skylar took a few steps back, unsure of what they were going to do next. Perceptor and Jazz stepped forward, the former of which awkwardly tapping his digits together.

“Perhaps we got off on the wrong appendage,” Perceptor said. “Allow us to introduce ourselves. My designation is Perceptor of Caminus. I am the chief scientific officer of this expedition as well as a renowned member of the Cybertronian Science Guild. You’ve already met our leader, Optimus Prime, but my medically inclined colleague here is-!”

“Call me Jazz,” said Jazz. “And that kid over there’s Bumblebee.”

“Kid, nothing!” Bumblebee puffed out his chest in pride. “According to Skylar’s Earth rules, I’m an adult.”

There was a newfound glint in Skylar’s eyes. Though her fear of these robots still lingered, that wasn’t going to stop her from letting a golden opportunity like this pass her by. If they wanted to talk, she was more than willing to listen.

“Got anything else to tell me?” She asked.

“What would you like to know?” Perceptor replied.

Skylar didn’t hesitate. “Everything!”

--
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Springer mock announced as the convoy of Autobots pulled up to the base. “We have reached inane blathering ground zero.”

“Hey, I thought you were on my side.” Hot Rod said as he transformed into robot mode.

Arcee landed down gently. “I’m sure he means that in the nicest of ways.”

“No, I don’t.” Springer said.

“You’re not doing wonders for our image, Springer.” said Blurr.

The trio transformed and began to make their way towards the entrance, but Kup stayed back. The humming of his scanner was barely audible to the others as they argued amongst themselves. Kup’s sensors were a bit dusty after all his years online, but he could still make out three – no, four – figures that were already inside. That was enough to concern him, given that none of the others had mentioned Hot Rod was working with anyone, but the sight of a purple and black scouting ship that was barely obscured by rubble confirmed his fears. Kup caught up and drove behind a boulder.

“…which is why all those long nights and welding classes paid off!” Hot Rod said, gesturing openly with his arms. “And another thing!”

“Cool it.” Kup said. He motioned for the younger bots to join him.

“Huh?” Hot Rod gasped. As he hurried over with the rest, he resumed his ranting. “And another thing, you can’t sit back and judge me when you’re out nearly every night stalking the mobs and-!”

“I said cool it!” Kup clapped a hand over Hot Rod’s mouth and pulled him behind the boulder. “Don’t you see the skimmer?”

“Yhhs…?” Hot Rod mumbled. Prying his hand off, Hot Rod continued. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it parked here before.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Kup said. “I’ve got washers in my knee that are older than that ship. And unless I missed out on the big announcement where this was made into some kinda tourist attraction, then we’ve got company, too. Guess that’s point one for your theory, kid.”

Springer rolled his optics.

“If I had to guess, it’s just a scouting party with a ship that small,” Kup said as he craned his neck over the rock. “That means that whatever you’ve got locked in there might not be slagged yet. Alright, here’s the plan. You lot lure those Decepti-creeps into the center of the building, and I’ll get the main cannon back online. Blast should be enough to send them packing all the way back to Kaon. You got all that?”

Kup looked up to find he was alone.

“Fraggin’ kids.”

“Oh, would ya look at that, Astraea? It’s nothing!” Motormaster complained as he rooted around in the dusty ammo crates littered around the base. “Nothing! We’ve been here for 6 mega-kliks and we’ve still found nothing!”

“Quit your glitching and get back to looking!” Astraea barked.

“Looking for what?” Motormaster asked. “Last I checked, Flamewar got a recording of his voice, not his autograph!”

“Well, Mister Smart-Aleck! We’re looking for clues as to where he might’ve run off to! Just keep looking. It’ll hit ya sooner or later.”

The ceiling was torn open by gunfire. Arcee, Springer, Hot Rod, and Blurr leapt though and split up across the compound. Astraea didn’t flinch as she fired shot after shot at the hot pink Seeker, though her aim was greatly mitigated by her rage. Springer shifted into vehicle mode and drove circles around Motormaster, attempting to goad him into following suit. It certainly worked, if Springer’s intention were to have someone three times his size plow him down.

“Hi!” Arcee trilled.

Astraea snarled as Arcee continued to bob and weave around the blasts. “Hold still, you little-!”

As Astraea moved in to close the gap, she slipped on the myriad of junk food containers littering the floor and fell with an undignified shriek. Arcee stopped mid-air and stared, almost dumbfounded that she’d been bested by trash. This shock quickly wore off into amusement as she laughed.

“Alright! Three cheers for Hot Rod being a total slob!” Arcee cheered.

“Do not encourage him!” Springer shouted from down the hall.

Still in his vehicle mode, Springer raced neck-in-neck with Motormaster. The purple semi-truck dwarfed his model in comparison, but no matter how hard Springer tried to outpace him, he matched his speed just as quickly. The corridors narrowed and the two were pushed together, sparks flying as their shells scraped against each other. As the hallway opened back up, Motormaster slammed on his brakes and rammed his cab into Springer’s back tires. Springer felt himself spin violently out of control and slid through a doorway into a dark room. Motormaster wasted no time in transforming into robot mode and locking him inside.

Motormaster’s triumph was short-lived, as the doors were shredded in half as if they were sheet metal. Springer emerged from the darkness holding two long black katana, and it was at this point Motormaster read the sign above the room that read ARMORY. He gulped sharply and put up his shield as Springers second wind kicked in.

As Motormaster clashed with Springer, he realized this was as good a time as any to warn his superior. His commlink buzzed loudly as he shouted. “Blitzwing, we’ve got company!”

“Oh, is that so? I thought all the screaming and exploding was just the building settling.” He snapped back.

“Just get your steel-plated cans back over here! Where’d you even go?!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m doing some reconnaissance of my own.” Pulling down his goggles, he examined the makeshift radio tower, craning his head up to gaze at the dizzying peak. “Did a hatchling build this thing?”

Flamewar cackled as she continued hacking into the console. Like the tower, it was a gnarled mess of wires that proved a herculean effort to detangle. But unlike the tower, she could at least decipher what its purpose was. There were two significant problems that she hadn’t considered, through: her one-track processor hyper focusing on decrypting the source of the message and Hot Rod’s belligerent refusal to surrender.

Of course, she was soon made well aware of the latter when the door was melted through via Hot Rod’s flame powers. Nevertheless, Hot Rod nor Blurr would deter her from her hacking, and she quickly shielded herself with one free hand. Blurr was just a second too late to stop her; his hand pounded against an orange forcefield and sent him back reeling.

“Ignore her! We’ve got bigger problems!” Hot Rod shouted. In his mind, Blitzwing was eyeing up the tower’s weak spots. Hot Rod tackled him to the ground without a second thought.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Blitzwing shouted.

“I’m keeping you from destroying everything!” Hot Rod volleyed back.

“What are you talking about-?!”

In their struggle, Blitzwing slammed Hot Rod’s head against the scaffolding, knocking loose bolts. If Hot Rod cared so much about this monstrosity of a radio tower, it was certainly more than it seemed.

Blitzwing pushed the younger bot off him. He turned into his tank alt-mode and aimed his cannon directly at the support beam. Hot Rod took the bait and rushed Blitzwing in his alt-mode, only for the Triple-Changer to dodge out of the way by transforming into his jet mode at the last moment. Hot Rod rammed against the tower at full force and Blitzwing fired an icy blast at the struts for good measure as Hot Rod was pinned.

Blurr immediately knew the tower was going to fall and desperately tried to restabilize the structure, but it was far too late. The tower groaned as it buckled and finally snapped in half. Blurr rushed over to Hot Rod trying to pull him free and get him out of the way, but they could only watch in abject horror as it crashed down atop them.

Across the base, both teams could hear the massive screeching crash. Arcee clamped her hands over her audials and yelled, her hyper-sensitive senses barraged twice as hard as the rest. Astraea took advantage of the moment and blasted her in the back, knocking her out of the sky. Springer had also been distracted by the crash, and Motormaster closed the gap by ramming him against the wall with his shield.

From beneath the tower, Hot Rod’s vision swam. The last thing he saw before the world went black was Blitzwing closing in.

--
Skylar wasn’t sure whether she should be grateful or not to hear Perceptor’s long rambling tirades about the history of their planet. Even as they’d moved from the ship into the densely wooded national park’s parking lot, he hadn't paused talking for a moment. She would have expected him to at least slow down when he’d had to awkwardly squeeze his microscopic body into Optimus’ cab, or the inverse where’d he had to get out and landed on his face, but nothing seemed to stop him.

The other robots didn’t seem to mind it; Skylar wondered if this was a daily occurrence for them, too. As Jazz and Bumblebee patrolled around the wooded area, she patiently waited for whenever Perceptor would stop.

“Any questions?” he finally asked.

She answered his question with one of her own. “So, what are you?”

“Oh! Did I fail to explain that? You see, we’re Cybertronians,” Perceptor stated. “We are automated robotic organisms that come from another planet.”

“No. I mean, what ARE you? Why are you here? It’s great and all that you told me about your whole system of government and your bank holidays, but I want to know what you guys are.” She shrugged and leaned back against Optimus’ leg. “Y’know?”

This was a sentence that Perceptor couldn’t answer, or at least not one that he could answer quickly. As his optics darted around nervously and his digits steepled, Optimus was quick to cover for him.

“We are Autobots.” Optimus said. “And we only wanted to explore the galaxy and share our culture with the peoples of other worlds. But our kind were burned from previous invasions, and with men like Megatron rewriting our history to suit his own ends…”

“Megatron?” she asked.

“Ah, Megatron!” Perceptor chimed in. “Terrible bot. Terrible! He had this company, Tarn Industries, that sold weaponry to other species off-planet! Goodness knows how many wars he backed before starting ours.”

“I made the mistake of trusting him.” Optimus slowly interjected. “I wanted to believe that he could change his mind. I wanted to believe that he wasn’t too far gone in his own anger and sorrow. But I’ve come to the sobering realization that no matter what I do, war will be inevitable.”

“That’s not true!” Skylar said. “It’s not inevitable. It can happen, but it doesn’t have to.”

Bringing up the situation seemed to have only brought the mood down. Desperate to try and change the subject, she looked up at the night sky. Suddenly, an idea struck her.

“Hey, Optimus.” She began. “There’s a lot of space up there. Which one is your planet?”

Optimus looked up, tilted his head, and then pointed up to the middle of Orion’s Belt. “That one. That’s Cybertron.”

“We call that one Alnilam.” Skylar said with a smile.

“That’s a lovely name.” Optimus replied. His gaze shifted elsewhere, and he squinted. “That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“That plane.” He motioned with his head at the distant red light. “It keeps going around and around in circles above us. Would there happen to be an airport anywhere around here, Skylar?”

“Uh, no?” Skylar said. “Closest one is all the way out in Bar Harbor.”

The Autobot leader’s entire body froze as his optics flared. The plane was not only circling over and over again, but it was getting closer with each round it made.

“Skylar. Run. Now.” Optimus’ voice came out sternly as his hands balled into fists. “Get to Jazz and have him drive you to a safe zone.”

“A safe zone?” Skylar asked. “What’s going on?”

“I told you to run! Go!” Optimus suddenly shouted. “Jazz, take the human and leave this place immediately!”

Altered from his woodland hike, Jazz looked up to see the alleged plane close in on their parking lot. Without a second thought, he transformed into his alt-mode and let Skylar jump into the passenger side. Bumblebee followed his example and transformed himself, and the three quickly peeled out of the area as fast as possible. They’d completely ignored the roads in favor of directly plowing through the forest, hoping that the cover of trees would keep them shielded.

“Please tell me you’ve got weapons in your trunk, man,” Bumblebee begged Jazz.

“Of course not!” Jazz yelled back. “And ya know why, Bee? Cause I didn’t expect them to show up in the least murderous place in the whole galaxy!”

“Them? Who’s them?” Skylar asked.

“Decepticons!” Bumblebee and Jazz shouted at the same time.

Bursting from the cover of foliage, Jazz and Bumblebee landed on a dirt road and headed towards a cave. As Jazz gunned it, Skylar looked out the window and saw the plane getting closer and closer until it began to morph into something else. As the plane hit the road, a pair of thick rubber tires sprouted from his lower berth and the entire plane seemed to fold in on itself. Both Autobots hit their brakes so quickly that they nearly collided with one another as the Decepticon finished taking shape into a massive armored truck.

“Well, well, well!” it said. “If it ain’t me two oldest chums in the Autobot Alliance. Hey, is it just me, or is one of you taller now?”

Jazz idled for a second before opening his door, pushing Skylar out, and transforming, making sure to keep the girl safely shielded behind himself. Bumblebee transformed as well and stared daggers at the Decepticon as it continued to chortle.

“Of course, I’ve changed, too. In more ways than one!” The truck began to change again, this time into a robot like the Autobots. While Skylar couldn’t make heads or tails of who this Decepticon was supposed to be, her friends knew him very well.

“Greatshot!” Jazz cried.

He clicked his tongue. “Ah, Sixshot. Figured it fits the whole new bag a lot better, don’t you think?”

“No matter what your name is, I’m gonna pound you into the next solar cycle!” Jazz said, activating his speakers. “Sky, cover your ears!”

Jazz’s speakers sounded off at full blast towards Sixshot who proceeded to shrug off the attack. Jazz was dumbstruck.

“Wait. Wait.” He looked down at his hands. “Wait.”

“Sorry, what was that? Mind speaking up?” Sixshot mockingly held a hand up to the area Skylar could infer was his ‘ear’. He pulled out a pistol from a holster on his hip and cackled. “I was ready this time! Let’s see how well your reflexes fare now.”’

With the loud of a big rig’s horn announcing his arrival, Optimus barreled towards Sixshot in his alt-mode, slamming into him at full force. Perceptor, stuffed into the cab once more, picked up Skylar with one claw arm and safely buckled her into the passenger’s seat. Optimus’ body crackled with electricity as his amber lights blasted electricity at the Decepticon, knocking him off his feet.

Bumblebee punched Jazz in the arm. “That’s our cue! Hurry up, bro!”

“Wait.” Jazz, still in a fugue state, murmured under his breath as he transformed and drove forward.

Once they’d shot into the cave, the Autobots transformed back into robot mode to make it easier to slip through the cave’s winding tunnels (with Perceptor having to transform halfway to wiggle himself out of the driver’s seat). This time, however, Skylar had been given no chance to get out before Optimus transformed.

“Optimus, wait-!” She said. But it was too late, as she was lurched backwards into the Autobot’s core.

“Hm.” Sixshot peered into the cave’s mouth. “Looks like you want a challenge, lads? If you insist.”

--
Hot Rod made a mental note to stop running into situations headlong without a proper plan.

This note, like many others he’d made, was one he’d probably forget in a vorn’s time. But now that he was being dragged by his ankles to who-knows-where by one of the deadliest Triple-Changers in the Decepticon army, he felt this was a learning moment. Blurr was tucked under Blitzwing’s other arm like a sack of potatoes, and both bots found themselves being chucked into a pile already consisting of Arcee and Springer beneath an old combine cannon. Astraea and Motormaster were already standing guard in front of the other two, waiting for Blitzwing to make his next move.

“Start talking.” Blitzwing snapped, grabbing Hot Rod’s helm by its crest and pulling it up.

“I swear this isn’t what it looks like,” Hot Rod pleaded. He had to come up with a lie, and fast. It didn’t matter how believable it was; he had to say something to try and deter the Decepticons from prodding further. “We just came here so we could... reminisce on old times, I swear!”

“And yet you attack us when we’re trying to investigate, build some sort of ungodly contraption, try to destroy the evidence, and lie-bold faced,” He sneered. Blitzwing let Hot Rod’s head drop to his chest and took a step back. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

“Yeah! Decepticons, corner pocket!” Kup’s voice rang out.

The Decepticons had no time to react as the cannon sparked to life and began to charge a massive bolt of energy directly at them. With the last of his strength, Hot Rod pulled Arcee and Springer closer to himself and shut his optics tightly, the sound of their foe’s screaming quickly drowned out by the resounding tremor of the blast. When the noise stopped and he opened his optics again, there was no sign that the ‘Cons had even been there. The blast had also cleaned up some of the empty cans littering the ground, which Hot Rod was silently appreciative of.

Kup chuckled. “And that’s why we always go with Plan A.”

Clean-up after the attack was more somber than hot Rod would like to admit. Sure, they’d beaten the Decepticons and kept them from learning about Optimus’ survival, but now they had no way of contacting him again and they’d potentially lost their proof. Still though, Hot Rod felt it a waste to have brought Kup along with him if he didn’t try to get the computer working. And so, with a pit forming in the base of his fuel tank, Hot Rod had brought Kup into the now decimated room and cautiously rebooted the console. And then, clear as a bell, the console roared to life one last time.

“This is Optimus Prime! Requesting immediate assistance; our ship has been set off course by-”

“Alright!” Hot Rod cheered. “See? Told you I was right!”

“Well, I’ll be.” Kup said, running his hand down his face. “Doesn’t mean you holing yourself up in here was a good idea, you know. You’ve could’ve just asked for help.”

“Hey, where’s the fun in that?” Hot Rod joked.

“Mmm, I’d say the fun’s the fact that I don’t gotta clean all this slag up; you do!” Kup cheerily said. Shoving a dustpan and broom into Hot Rod’s hands he added, “You can start with all those energy drink cans.”

--
Within the deepest tunnel of the cave, the Autobots took shelter. Optimus tried to keep cool, hoping it’d help his men to stay equally calm, but even they could see he was starting to falter.

“Evidently, the Decepticons have been trailing us for the time we’ve been in stasis.” Optimus said. “They’ve modified Sixshot so that he’ll be able to contest with us that much easier.”

“Megatron’s been after us for this long? No way. I call scrap on that.” Jazz said. “Nobody’s that petty, not even them!”

“Perhaps this is just a coincidence?” Perceptor offered. “I mean, is he not a bounty hunter? Would it not be implausible that he could have been hired to do away with any Cybertronic life outside of Cybertron for a wholly unrelated reason?”

Bumblebee retorted with, “You know we’re not allowed to leave the planet, right?”

“Yes, but my theory will help me recharge better at night.” The scientist murmured.

Optimus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Skylar, I’m so sorry you had to get sucked into this mess.” There was no response. Optimus tried again, the worry growing in his voice. “Skylar? Skylar?”

From within Optimus Prime himself, Skylar laid against a cold steel wall as she gaped at the sight before her. A gigantic blue orb of crackling electricity that was almost as big as her glowed through a thin black pane of glass. Attached to it was a cog-like mechanism covered in wires that spiderwebbed across the inside of his chest. Sparks arced and crackled across these wires as the cog slowly turned and clicked. The sight was horrific enough, but Skylar swore she could hear a steady thump emanate from it like the beating of a heart.

On the outside, Optimus was frantically looking around for the young girl. Bumblebee hoped that he wouldn’t notice him checking the bottom of his foot as he overturned every rock in the clearing.

“I don’t understand! She was right here with me, right up until I… transformed…” Optimus’ voice trailed off and his optics darted down as the realization became hauntingly clearer. He pried open his chest and out came Skylar gasping for air. Bumblebee audibly retched.

“Skylar! How on Cybertron did you get in there?” Perceptor asked.

“Are you alright?” Optimus asked. He gently placed her atop a ledge and dusted her off.

She wheezed. “I’ll tell you when the room stops spinning.”

Optimus looked around the room remorsefully. Here he was, abandoned with a small unit of soldiers on a defenseless alien planet, being hunted down by a veritable super soldier of a bot. And to top things off, they had a tiny civilian alongside them. Looking up at the stalactites above himself and hearing the Decepticon’s footsteps get closer, he knew what he had to do. Optimus steadied himself and walked out to face Sixshot head on.

“Stop. I know it’s me you want, Sixshot.” Optimus said. He raised his fists and took on a defensive stance. “Let them go.”

Optimus’ gaze held.

“Have it your way!” Sixshot tossed the gun to the side and lunged for Optimus.

The first punch missed Optimus’s face, but the second collided with his helm. Optimus lobbed back with a right jab and a sweeping kick. Sixshot’s head had barely connected with the ground before he handsprung himself back up and tried to grab Optimus by the throat. Optimus quickly stepped out of his way and went in for a left cross, but Sixshot grabbed his arm and pulled it behind his back, locking him into a bearhug.

“Y’know… the boss told me to bring you back in one piece, but I don’t think he’ll mind me taking a little souvenir!” Sixshot cackled. His grip around Optimus’ left shoulder shifted up to the smokestack. His claws sunk in deeper as Optimus shouted in pain, and with one final yank, his exhaust was torn clean off. Shoving Optimus to the ground with a sneer, he moved to finish him off. “And now-!”

A rock plinked against his temple. Sixshot’s optics flickered and darted up to the young girl standing atop a ledge, arms full of jagged stones. With a single digit, he pushed her away and turned back to the fallen Prime.

“And now, to bag me a general!” Sixshot resumed, unhitching his sword from his back.

Before he could slash down, Optimus swiftly pushed himself up off his stomach and kicked him in the chest. Optimus fell again, this time on his side as he tried to steady himself. Though knocked off balance, Sixshot quickly regained his ground and attempted to strike again, only to be interrupted this time by Optimus’ booming voice.

“Jazz! Now!”

Sixshot instinctively put up his shield. But the blast didn’t aim for him; it aimed for the stalactites above his head. Sixshot was far more intimidated by this attempt on his life, and as they shattered and fell to the ground, it seemed they provided a far more effective distraction as well. Amidst the confusion, Optimus tackled Sixshot to the ground before grabbing Skylar and bolting for the cave’s opening.

“No, you don’t!” Sixshot screamed.

Catching him off-guard, Perceptor darted in-between his legs and hammered his head into his stomach. Bumblebee followed suit by plowing into his back and using him as a living ramp to propel himself to safety. Now winded and blinded by the rapidly collapsing cave, Sixshot roared in anger and transformed into his fighter-jet mode. He darted out of the cave and soared over the highways.

Perhaps, if he weren’t so caught up in getting vengeance as quickly as possible, he would have taken a second look around. Because beneath the cave’s lip a few miles down was a deep pond surrounded by pine trees. Inconspicuous enough, but on closer inspection...

“He’s gone! You can come out now!” Skylar called from her vantage point in a pine tree. Optimus, Jazz, and Bumblebee emerged from the water slowly.

“Man, talk about a close call!” Jazz said as he walked out. Looking behind himself and only seeing Bumblebee, he asked. “Hold up, where’s Percy?”

“I was standing on his shoulders.” Bumblebee said, stepping out of the pond. As if on cue, Perceptor popped up immediately, coated in mud. “I’m surprised he was able to do it for that long.”

“You’re welcome.” Perceptor mumbled.

“If you wanna talk about surprising, let’s talk about that human!” Jazz said. As Skylar scrambled down the tree and hurried over to their side, he smiled. “Though, uh, you probably should leave the distractions to me next time.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. I’m not planning on ticking off any more shape-shifting robots for a while.” Skylar said. Then the other shoe dropped. “Wait, does this mean I’m part of your team now?”

“We’ll have to see about that later. But for now,” Optimus began. He placed. Skylar on his shoulder with a chuckle. “Let’s all just go home.”

“Great, now he’s calling it ‘home’.” Bumblebee groaned.

“Hey, what else are we gonna call it?” Jazz asked as he walked after Optimus.

Bumblebee stopped walking. As he watched his fellow Autobots walk off back towards the house, he thought to himself. Sure, this planet was bizarre, under-developed, strangely populated, organic, and uncomfortably different in every way, but there was a certain charm to it. Skylar herself seemed to be just as sweet and caring as any Cybertronian off the street, and just as resourceful despite her lack of transforming capabilities. Maybe this planet wasn’t such a nightmare after all.

But like slag he’d tell anyone that’s how he felt. He transformed and sped off into the night with his team.