The politicians refused to hear beyond the words of "Sentinel Prime" and cost Chicago and it's citizens greatly.
In the aftermath, their group formed, initially in gratitude of the Autobots and humans who lead NEST. They grew with those looking to show their strength in light of the destruction and death to the ones who fought. The soldiers, never the two-faced lying politicians.
Then the first video surfaced.
A known Autobot being gunned down coldly by humans.
The government wasn't fast enough to strip the video from the internet.
Certainly not fast enough to stop them from forming a group who the monsters could never face. Not against their unity.
For centuries, their gender was underestimated and thought weak.
Until they declared war against the men of Cemetery Wind.
"Ghost in position," Janet murmured, her masculine voice once a joke to everyone.
Now it was the voice of command.
"Beamrider, circling," Ghost's SIC whispered in a sing song voice more suited to a choir teacher than a deadly drone commander.
Ghost knew the drones were airborne, but camouflaged for the night sky, and invisible to human sight.
A bedroom sigh passed out of her ear piece, "Shiva stretching."
Shiva drove the modified military vehicle as their muscle or shield. She'd get between the Winds and their target.
"Dum, Dee," Twin voices grinned.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee were both motorbikes types. Laying caltrops, smoke, oil, or firing close range into the enemy.
Toolchest sneered, "Give me someone to smash in."
Their designated medic and explosives expert, Toolchest was the shortest of them all. Yet also the most terrifying in a sedan type vehicle.
Ghost sat a few blocks down from their protection target.
Cybercat, the hacker commander of their unit and six others had tracked Wind movement to this location.
"Windy conditions ahead," Beamrider sang.
The video feed filled Ghost's dash.
The men of Cemetery Wind crept on a river boat, looking as hunters after Autobot prey.
"Wind funnels needed tonight," Ghost ordered, starting her electric engine silently.
Praying to the restless dead playing with her nape, Ghost began to ease forward. To defend her world from the evil in men.
Ratchet could sense the closing humans, worry dismissed as he readied to run.
Were these the ones Optimus warned of?
Missing Maggie, Mikeala, Sam, Epps, and Lennox, he wondered if he should have let Sentinel offline him with Ironhide.
Then he had nothing on his processors but minimizing the damage as sabot rounds and others were used against him.
He fell to the second floor of the boat, rolling out the flames as he dodged the next volley by leaping through the side and onto the dock.
He raced, zigging and zagging, his processors working to dodge the rockets and bullets.
Then two motorbikes raced up his backside, smoke billowing out along with war whoops. Ratchet thought for a moment it was Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.
It couldn't be though. They wouldn't the here to save him, not with such tiny vehicle forms.
Then a bulky hummer swung behind him, blocking hits from the enemy humans.
He saw the human femme driver glancing at her side mirrors, the headdress, Indian in style, oddly fitting with her features and skin dripped with beads and embellishments.
Then her face turned feral before she twisted the wheel, striking an enemy jeep, forcing it into the river.
What?
A moving truck raced up, pulled ahead, slid over to take the front.
A ramp descended, the door rose.
Just enough space to enter and let the door close around him.
They couldn't be thinking. No, they had to be.
A helicopter broke the smoke, firing into the shield femme.
Only for four blurs to mob it and bring it down in a fiery explosion.
He rode up the ramp, braking smoothly.
The door closed and he felt the ramp retract under the floor beneath his wheels.
His scanners tracked the battle through the flimsy shelter he sat in.
Internal medical processes worked on his wounds, sealing leaks, patching damaged cables as the group surrounding him broke free of the enemies, racing into the night.
He focused on the encrypted communication, easily breaking it.
"Ghost riding moonlight."
The surprisingly deep voice came from the front of the transport vehicle driving him.
Coming from the shield vehicle a voice replied, "None can stand before Shiva."
"Beamrider and lasers flashing," he tracked the new voice to a distant vehicle paralleling them.
With a horrible realization, every one of the drivers had one thing in coming.
All femmes.
Human femmes protected him from blood thirsty mechs. His tanks dropped as more femme voices joined the channel, their words incomprehensible but clearly code phrases.