N sat on the first crumbling step of the theater, his frame hunched over and his head bowed low. His arms rested heavily on his knees, as if the weight of everything he'd witnessed had anchored him in place. In his hand, he clutched his pilot cap, his fingers gripping it so tightly the edges began to crease. It was a small thing, yet it felt heavier than the blasted ruins surrounding him.

Everything felt heavier now.

The wind howled around him, tugging at the tattered edges of his clothing and whistling through the shattered remnants of the street. Loose debris skittered across the ground like specters fleeing the rising storm. Snowflakes swirled chaotically in the air, thickening as the storm began to consume the world around him.

"N."

The icy chill gnawed at him, but he didn't move. His optics were dim, locked on the cracked, uneven ground beneath his feet. The snow began to collect on his shoulders and arms. He didn't bother to brush it away. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to speak. He didn't want anything right now.

And still, a voice called out to him.

"J called Elita and explained to her what we found. They're gonna send someone over to collect the bodies."

He barely even noticed V as she moved to sit down next to him.

"It's nothing concrete, but..." She paused, bringing a hand up to knock some snow off his shoulder. "We're thinking he was ambushed. By the look of the firepower that was used, we're guessing it was Cons. It's hard to say for sure, but…"

She let the sentence hang in the air, the silence followed with it only broken by the howling of the cold winds as the storm grew denser, as more snow fell around them. N continued to look at the floor, unresponsive and unmoving, lost within his own mind, possibly to dark thoughts.

She wanted to remind him that they were in a war. That this was an expectation for all of them at some point. Especially for someone that had lived through as much as they had but…she also knew that no matter how many eons, no matter how much loss they all faced, it never got easier.

A friend being killed, is still a friend being killed.

"He was one of the first bots we met when we came to this planet, right? I think I remember some of it, but…it's been so long." V spoke to fill the silence. "He taught us how to be Autobots—all the stuff to watch out for, all the terms we needed to say, and how to actually use weapons not built into our bodies. I remember him teaching us to use hand signs in stealth operations, and I just used them to find new ways to make insults."

She chuckled at the memory, but N was still silent.

"Please, N. Just say something—"

"What can I say?"

His voice came so suddenly that it made V wince.

"What can I say?" He repeated the question, his head snapping up to meet her gaze. There was no trace of anger in his expression, no irritation. All that showed on N's visor was a deep, unshakable melancholy as he spoke. "The last thing I talked to him about was Air Bud. He's dead, and the last thing I talked to him about before he died was a movie about a dog playing basketball!" N then turned his face forward to stare in the direction of the Spire. "Before then I called him rude, because he hung up on me without saying bye first! I…if I knew it would be the last thing I said I would've…I should have…"

His head dropped once more, as he was rendered silent and crestfallen.

"You didn't know," V said gently, brushing more snow from his shoulders and even his hair. Her movements were careful, steady, as if the small act might help lighten his burden. "But I'm sure you had plenty of things you would've told him. He helped us, and because of that, he was a friend. Our friend."

N slowly shook his head, and mumbled a curse under his breath. He then raised his cap, and placed it back over his head. "...V, how do you feel now that he's gone?"

She answered automatically, her voice flat, even as her frame stiffened. Her body betrayed her, tension crept into her joints as memories flickered at the edges of her mind—memories she didn't want to face about Impactor. The times he made them laugh, despite the endless war looming overhead. The times he dragged them out for drinks, insisting they deserved a moment of peace, no matter how fleeting. The times he defended them against their own allies, standing firm against judgmental Autobots who couldn't see past their differences. And then there was the offer…

'Join the Wreckers,' he had said.

The Wreckers. They weren't just soldiers; they were living legends. A special task force composed of the toughest, most die-hard fighters the Autobots had to offer. They were the ones sent to face the impossible missions, the ones no one else could handle. And they completed them—with sheer stubbornness, brute force, and enough explosives to level cities.

For a time, it had seemed like a perfect fit. They had seemed like a perfect fit to join such a team. And yet, they'd said no. Because that would mean such a team would have monsters in their rank. Not heroes.

And now, standing here, with the weight of what they'd lost pressing down on her spark, she wondered if that had been the right choice.

"I still feel nothing."

Her words came out like a shield, practiced and unyielding. It was what she always said when dealing with death—a truth she'd grown accustomed to years ago. Her life had stripped her of tears, dulled the edges of her grief, and left her spark a cold, mechanical thing. Numbness wasn't just a coping mechanism; it was a survival tactic. To feel everything would've broken her long ago. To feel nothing meant she could do her job.

Yet somehow, N still felt. No matter how dark things got, no matter how heavy the weight on his shoulders became, he always found a way to stay true to himself. To remain that bot with a heart of gold who cared too much. Until…

"Can..." N's voice creaked as he looked at her again, his visor dim once more. "...can you teach me how to do the same? To feel… nothing."

She pretended not to hear him.

She had to.

"If this is too much for you, you can leave." V reached over and took his hand within hers, her grip firm yet careful, as though she feared she might break it. Her gaze avoided his, locked somewhere distant, somewhere safe. "You can stay in the Spire or fly back to Iacon if you want. Me and J can handle the rest, and you can… grieve. We were supposed to be on leave, and Primus knows we need a damn break. We'll tell you when the funeral is ready, and…" She hesitated, her words catching on her tongue. A thought crossed her mind, one she had again and again. "We talked about it once. Maybe, we can talk about it again. To—" Her voice wavered as she tried to push the thought into words, even if they only did as the faintest of whispers. Barely audible in the storm that surrounded them. "Run away from it all…leave this planet and this stupid war behind us…"

"Will you be my Conjunx Endura?"

"Huh?"

The words hit V like a sudden shot in the gut with an EMP shotgun, knocking the breath from her spark. Her optics snapped up to meet N, her own expression a mix of confusion and shock while his was somber, and full of uncertainty.

The weight in his voice as he spoke again only added to the gravity of the moment. "Sorry," he said, his tone quieter now, almost fragile. "I've been meaning to ask you that for a long time. Just… never had the chance. We've had ups and downs, and…everyday things just seem to get harder for everyone." He tried to pull his hand away, retreating into himself as though bracing for rejection, but V tightened her grip, refusing to let him escape so easily. "V?"

Her mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other. That it wasn't the time—nor the place—for such a question. The war still felt too close, the wounds too fresh. The argument they had, the loss of their comrade, and now this.

And yet, beneath the shock, something warmer stirred. A quiet ache. For everything they'd been through together. For everything they'd survived. For the possibility. She wanted for so long to hear him ask such a question. Since before they became…what they are.

Her mouth opened, words forming on instinct, though she didn't yet know what they would be.

"N—"

"V! N!"

The shout came from behind them, sharp and sudden, cutting through the fragile moment like a blade.

They both turned to look back towards the theater, the world snapping back into focus as the snowstorm raged around them ever so harder. J stood at the destroyed entrance with her hands on her hip. "Get in here. There's something you both are going to want to see."

V had to fight the immediate urge within her to transform her arm into a cannon and shoot a missile at J for the interruption. For daring to give her an excuse to not answer the question…

Instead, she pulled N by the hand as she stood, steadying both herself and him as they rose to their feet. "Let's go. We'll talk later, promise," she said firmly, her voice carrying a quiet reassurance. Without waiting for a response, she began marching toward the front entrance of the theater, dragging him along behind her.

The snowstorm swirled around them, the howling wind bit at their frames, but the entire time, V didn't let go of his hand.

"So," J's voice cut through the storm as they approached. She stood, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the edges of her face. "You two back to being on-again now?"

"Blast it out of your tailpipe," V shot back, her tone sharp but laced with familiarity.

J chuckled as she turned and led them inside, where the storm's fury faded into a muted roar. The air inside was still heavy, still choked with the smell of death, but was much more bearable as they approached the bodies. They were rearranged and covered with what seemed to be old theater curtains. J gestured toward the makeshift shroud, the faded fabric barely able to mask the jagged outlines of what laid beneath. "I looked around and found these," she explained, her tone quieter now. "Figured it might help. I know it won't make it easier, but… at least it'll be tolerable to stand in the same room now."

V gave J a solemn nod as thanks. "Thanks, J," N said, his voice subdued but still trying to show his own earnest gratitude. "You're the best."

"'Course I am," J replied, her grin returning as she took a step back and gestured around the room. "So, from what we've been able to piece together, it was a team of Decepticons. But I can't figure out why they'd be here. Hell, I can't figure out why Impactor would want to meet you here, N." She began circling the covered bodies, her steps deliberate, her fingers tapping against her side as she clicked her tongue in thought. "Iacon is a big city. Even with every Autobot stationed there, there are thousands of other places he could've picked. So why here ? And why bring the new recruits? Was he expecting a fight?"

"If he was, he wouldn't bring fresh bots," V interjected. She finally let go of N's hand and stepped forward as an idea formed in her mind. She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the storm still raging outside. "As for the Cons, there's that colony not too far from here. You know, the one with the big doors. You think they had something to do with this? Could be them finally deciding to fight back against us."

"Possibly," J admitted, stopping mid-pace to consider the idea. "The storm would've covered any tracks by now, so no point in investigating." She ran a hand through one of her pigtails, a brow on her visor furrowed. "Not like we could go ask them anyway. Those doors are tough. Every time we damage them, they self-repair within seconds. It's not worth the energon to try right now."

She turned her gaze back to the covered forms, her voice dropping slightly. "And that's without even mentioning the M. . These guys weren't even a month old…"

The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of their circumstances pressing down on all of them. V didn't want to say what her guess was. The Impactor was maybe trying to defect, to take what few innocent bots that he could away from the war towards somewhere else…

She knew such an idea would cause an argument—Specifically with N, who would insist that the Autobots were the good guys and thus there would be no need to run away from. She's not making that mistake again.

Suddenly, J reached into one of the deep pockets of her coat and pulled out a small rectangular device with a faintly blinking light on its surface. "Well," she said, her voice tinged with curiosity, "I did find something that might give us some answers." She held up the object, her optics narrowing slightly as she inspected it. "I found this on Impactor's person. I was hoping it'd give me a clue why he left Iacon or why he wanted to meet N… and I think this is it."

N stepped forward slowly, his optic fixed on the device. There was a flicker of recognition in his expression, his voice quiet as he spoke.

"That's an archive-log," he said. "They came about when the Ark was being built." He blinked, his gaze drifting briefly toward the covered bodies before returning to the log. "Blaster, the radio guy, handed them out to as many Autobots as he could. Said it was to let everyone record their impressions, recollections, and insights about how they felt as Cybertron… died." The weight of his words hung in the room for a moment in total silence. N's voice softened further as he added, "I haven't seen one in years."

"And it's brand new," J noted, turning the device over in her hand. The faint blinking light reflected off her visor as she brought it closer. "It's strange. Finding this on him. Impactor wasn't the sentimental type—not that kind of sentimental anyway," she remarked. She passed the log to V, her pigtails bobbing slightly as she stepped around them. "Let's see what it has to offer…"

V hesitated, staring at the device. It felt heavier in her hands than its actual weight, as if it carried Impactor's presence, his voice, and all the unresolved questions he left behind. She glanced at N, whose optics were locked on the log, wide with curiosity and something else—wonder.

"N?" she asked.

He didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he just seemed to sheepishly nod his head. "It's okay, V, we can play it," he said quietly.

With a resigned sigh, V pressed the blinking button. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the log emitted a faint hum, as a holographic display flickered to life. Blue-tinged light bathed the room, casting shadows against the theater's crumbling walls. At first, the image was nothing but static—blurry, fractured lines and flickering colors. But slowly, it took shape. The form was that of a lone figure, standing tall and proud. Even through the distortion, it was unmistakable. The Autobot symbol emblazoned on his shoulders. The familiar shape of his armored frame and colors. The face plate that moved as he spoke. They recognized him, for he was the very essence of leadership and hope, even in this broken form.

"It…can't be…" V whispered, her voice trembling.

She looked at N, but he was already lost, transfixed by the figure before them. His optics glistened, and a sorrowful smile was on his face, the subtle trembling in his shoulders betrayed the flood of emotions coursing through him. She wanted to reach out, but she knew—he needed this.

To see his hero.

Leader of the Free. The bearer of the Matrix. The beacon of hope. The true Prime.

Citizens of Cybertron, I am Optimus Prime.

A deep, steady voice filled the room, resonating with strength and wisdom. It was the voice of a leader—unshaken, undaunted by time or circumstance. And yet, there was something more to it: a gentleness, a caring that only a Prime could carry.

They expected to hear and see Impactor's last will and testament. His final words goodbye. Instead, each of them was given something else. A gift.

If you are hearing this message, it is not by chance.

For four million years, we have been absent from our home. Four million years since the Ark launched into the unknown, our hearts heavy with the weight of our dying world. We left in search of survival, not just for ourselves, but for the spark of Cybertron itself.

The room seemed to grow smaller, the air heavy with a mix of emotions. N blinked hard, struggling to make sense of the words. This wasn't just an announcement—it was a mission, a call to action. Optimus was back.

Something in him changed. N felt as if a massive weight that had been on his shoulders was lifted, and he stood up straighter. His hands closed into fists at his side, and he felt as though he could take on the entire Decepticon army by himself. He was fighting the massive urge to scream a cheer.

A way to bring back Cybertron, a way to bring back their home to how it used to be before it turned silent. If Optimus was returning, that would mean…

I have much to say, yet words feel insufficient to capture the enormity of this moment. After countless cycles and unimaginable trials, we have found what we sought: a way to restore life to Cybertron. A way to mend its wounded core and breathe vitality into its fading spark. We carry with us the energy, knowledge, and resources needed to heal the scars left by war, exploitation, and despair.

For a moment, the weight of the message was too much to bear. V and J exchanged a glance. They knew Cybertron was dead, but Optimus was offering a way to save it. To truly heal it—this changed everything. This changed the war.

I address not only the Autobots who stayed behind, who have struggled valiantly to maintain our world, but also the Decepticons, if any still remain. For this is not a call for continued conflict. It is an invitation to reconciliation. Cybertron belongs to all of us, bound as we are by our shared origins and our shared destiny. The choices of the past brought devastation, but together, we can forge a future that honors all Cybertronians, no matter their allegiance.

This is not a promise of perfection. The journey ahead will demand courage, sacrifice, and unity. But I believe in the resilience of our people. I believe that from the ruins of our mistakes, we can rise stronger and wiser.

The hologram flickered again, showing itself to become more distorted and broken and the voice came once more, resolute:

Prepare yourselves, Cybertron. The Ark is coming home. And with it, the light of renewal. Of a golden age promised long ago, from someone who loved his world with all he had.

Please, just hold on a little longer, my friends. For hope burns bright.

Till all are one.

The message ended and the holograms dissipated immediately, leaving the three Autobots in an almost sacred silence.

N stood still, as though frozen in time. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where the projection had been, distant and unfocused, as if he were trying to process the enormity of what he'd just witnessed. Finally, he took a shaky breath, his voice a whisper as he looked toward the fabric-covered body of Impactor.

"Just when I was about to give up…you, jerk."

He dropped to one knee, his motions slow and deliberate, and began to unveil the body. His hands faltered as the fabric slipped away, revealing the mangled remains of his friend. He flinched, his optics narrowing against the sight. The damage was severe—too much to take in—but he pressed on. He needed to do this, needed to say what he had to say, right here, right now.

Taking a deep breath, he started.

"…He regretted it, you know. What happened back then." His voice was strained, trembling slightly, but steady enough to carry the weight of his words. He glanced back at V and J. Neither spoke, their silence one of understanding. They knew what he meant. Everyone did. The shadow of Impactor's past lingered over them all. How he'd killed the Decepticon prisoners. How he'd executed them, one by one, in their cells, as they were defenseless. A moment of pure rage, raw and uncontrolled, had stained his hands forever. "Optimus was…" N hesitated, his optics drifting to the body again before shutting them tightly. "He was so angry when he found out. It was the maddest I've ever seen him."

They had been there, witnesses to the fallout as Impactor tried to justify himself, spitting words fueled by righteous fury. But Optimus—Optimus wasn't moved. His rage was rare, but when it came, it was a storm. He'd knocked Impactor down, forced him to listen, forced him to understand. "I can still feel my servos shake when he shouted... 'We are not murderers.' "

N's voice trembled, the memory vivid in his mind. It was the first time any of them had realized how terrifying Optimus could be when angered. How utterly helpless even someone as strong as Impactor had been, standing before the Prime's righteous fury.

"We held a funeral for those Decepticons," N continued. The visuals within his visor softened as though he could still see the scene before him. "We sent their bodies back to their comrades, with every honor we could give. I went with the transport, convinced it was pointless. I thought... I actually thought there'd be an attack, an ambush. That I'd be there to fight it off. Primus, I was so stupid." He opened his eyes and looked at Impactor's still form, a bitter smile on his face. "But there wasn't an ambush. There wasn't a fight. Instead, all there was… were people. Conjunx Enduras, families, kids. All of them came to collect their dead. Some were angry, some wanted to fight—but they didn't. They just wanted closure."

His optics dimmed and a long sigh escaped him. "Impactor was with us. He wasn't under Autobot' protection then. He was in handcuffs. When the Decepticons found out what he'd done…they were the ones to decide his fate."

N's hand moved to rest on Impactor's chest.

"A Decepticon—Onslaught—his daughter was one of the prisoners. I'll never forget how furious he was. He lunged at Impactor, and I…I couldn't stop him in time. He had a gun to Impactor's face, ready to end it right there. But…" N paused, shaking his head. "He didn't shoot. He just stood there, staring at Impactor for what felt like forever. And Impactor? He didn't flinch. He just stared back, calm, like he'd had weapons pointed at him a thousand times before—likely because he did."

N's voice cracked as he mimicked Impactor's words: "' Get it over with .' That's all he said. But Onslaught didn't shoot, instead he talked. He said, ' I can't kill what's already dead inside. ' And then…" N rubbed a hand over his visor, trying to steady himself. "He just lowered the gun and walked away. ' It won't bring back my little girl. The worst I can do is let you live with what you are: a complete and total failure as an Autobot.'"

The weight of those words hung in the air. N shook his head slowly. "And then the rest of them left too. No execution. No vengeance. Just…silence."

N looked down at Impactor again. "Whatever mask he tried to wear, whatever tough-guy act he put on, it all shattered after that. Optimus didn't make him step down as leader of the Wreckers. Impactor did that himself. He couldn't bear it anymore. Instead, he threw himself into training recruits. He wanted to teach them, to guide them—to make sure none of them became like him. That's why he didn't leave on the Ark. Why he stayed. Why he kept fighting for Cybertron, no matter the cost. Because being an Autobot? It meant everything to him."

Carefully, N slid his arms under Impactor's body, lifting his friend with a gentleness that belied his strength. His voice was quieter now, almost reverent.

"Optimus once said, it's not our titles or even our deeds that define us. It's our failures. The moments we fail to meet our own expectations. The times we let the worst parts of ourselves take over and do terrible things. Because it's in those moments—when we're at our lowest—that our true nature is revealed. We can choose to keep going down that dark path…or we can try to be better. Try to never make those mistakes again."

He hesitated, then added softly, "That's what makes us…'human.'"

N turned and began to walk away, his optics downcast as he carried Impactor's lifeless body in his arms. His voice was low, yet steady, carrying a weight far greater than the words themselves.

"No matter how many years go by, or how much we claim to grow…no matter how loudly we say we've learned to be better…we're still a young species. There's so much we don't understand. So many mistakes we repeat, over and over again—sometimes because we can't see them, sometimes because we refuse to see them." He paused, shifting the weight of Impactor slightly. "But there's goodness in us. In all of us."

He looked down at his fallen friend, his grip tightening as he continued. "Impactor isn't a hero to me because of the battles he fought. Or the impossible missions he somehow survived. He's a hero because he made a mistake. And for countless eons…he tried to make it right. He didn't do it for recognition. He didn't do it for forgiveness. He did it because he wanted reconciliation. Because he believed in the ideals we're supposed to stand for. I hope, with everything in my spark, that as he joins the Matrix, he finally finds the peace he was searching for. That he can forgive himself for what he did."

N's soften ever further, as though speaking directly to Impactor now. "Till all are one."

He stood in silence for a moment, then his wings folding out from his back as he prepared to leave. His last words were barely audible.

"The rest…is silence."

Neither V nor J spoke as N stepped out of the ruined theater. They watched as he unfurled his wings fully and took flight. Snow and ash swirled in the air as the storm howled around him. He disappeared into the darkened sky within moments, leaving the echoes of his words behind.

V stood motionless for a long moment before her shoulders began to shake, her head dipping slightly.

"…Are you crying? " J finally asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Shut—just shut the shock up, J," V snapped, though her voice cracked with emotion. She turned sharply, walking out of the theater without looking back. Placing the Audio-log within her coat as her form shifted and she transformed into her vehicle mode, the roar of her engines breaking the quiet. The UVAC rose into the stormy air, following the direction N had flown moments before.

J scoffed, as she looked toward the bodies and crossed her arms. A look of disappointment on her face. "You idiots, were supposed to watch him…stick with him and report anything you found…bet you clods didn't even realize what he had on him." She raised a leg back and kicked at one of the M. . "Now, I have to deal with that pink warmonger if she gets cold feet now that her boyfriend is coming home…the things I have to put up with for the company's sake."

She transformed and then flew out of the theater, towards the same direction that N and V went.

A lone pickup truck rumbled through the snowy wasteland under a vast, star-filled sky. The scene was serene, the stars above casting faint light on the desolate terrain. Resting in the truck bed was Doll, gazing upward. Her visor was off, and her features were calm as she had entered rest mode. They'd been traveling for so long that the first hues of dawn were beginning to creep into the sky, slowly painting it with faint streaks of pink and orange.

"So, like…you sure this is the direction toward a Decepticon outpost?" Thad's voice came from the front of the truck, his tone tinged with doubt as he carried his passengers across the rugged terrain.

"Yeah, Kaon should be coming up soon," Uzi replied, her voice casual but slightly impatient. She leaned back in her seat, rummaging through her bag. "We'd have gotten there sooner if it weren't for the damn destruction everywhere…for such a beautiful place, the surface is such a mess."

From her bag, she pulled out a cartridge and fished out a small cylindrical stick that glowed faintly with a greenish hue. Something the half-awake Lizzy noticed, her optics immediately focused, and she lazily extended a hand toward Uzi.

"Glitch, give me a goodie," Lizzy said flatly, her voice heavy with grogginess.

Uzi jerked away from Lizzy's grasp, holding the glowing stick protectively. "Hey, this is my runaway food. You should've grabbed some of your own before you bolted." She paused, raising an eyebrow within her visor. "Also, is that how you ask?"

Lizzy blinked at her, unimpressed. "Glitch, please give me a goodie."

Uzi sighed in exaggerated defeat, handing over a glowing stick to Lizzy, who immediately began munching on it with satisfaction. "Whatever," she grumbled, her tone dripping with mock annoyance as she ate her own stick of energon. She turned her gaze to the road ahead. "And Thad, if for some reason we still don't see it soon, we can stop… You've been driving for like four hours. Maybe you need a break."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Uz. I'm built to last and built tough—oh! Oh! I see it!"

The horizon loomed with Kaon's silhouette, a jagged cluster of spires and structures rising like a dark titan from the snowy wasteland as they drew closer towards it.

"It's…it's…holy scrap." Is all he could say at the sight.

The capital city of the Decepticons exuded an aura of strength and menace, a fortress carved from Cybertron's lifeblood. Its towering buildings glimmered faintly under the pale light of the rising sun, their metallic surfaces painted in hues of gray, purple, and black. Encircling the city was a colossal trench, a gaping maw in the planet's surface that seemed to descend forever, its depths shrouded in impenetrable darkness.

The only way across was a single bridge. It stretched over the abyss like a razor's edge, narrow and unyielding, constructed of obsidian-hued metal. Engraved upon its surface, bold and unmistakable, was the Decepticon insignia—an ever-watchful eye gazing toward any who dared approach. Its polished surface reflected the stark light above, as if daring intruders to question their resolve. The city's outer wall rose behind the bridge, a monolithic barrier of thick, reinforced metal that seemed alive with malice. Weapons of all kinds jutted from its surface, their muzzles gleaming coldly in the rising dawn. Cannons, missile pods, and mounted energy turrets were positioned with lethal precision, ready to obliterate anything that approached without clearance.

Above the wall, there were spires which rose like jagged blades, their peaks piercing the sky. Smoke billowed from massive factories, mingling with the faint glow of energy fields that danced above the city like ghostly auroras. The sound of industry was unrelenting—whirring gears, clanging metal, and the distant thunder of heavy machinery.

The image of it all, Thad's engine rumbled nervously as he began to cross the bridge, his headlights slicing through the fog that clung to the trench below. The city grew larger with every passing moment, its unyielding presence casting an oppressive shadow over the barren terrain that made each part of himself regret every choice he had ever made.

"Um… Uzi," Thad called out, his voice trembling with unease as the bridge stretched on before him.

"Yeah?" Uzi replied absently, her eyes fixed on the city like a child seeing a lifelong dream materialize.

"This place…are you sure it's run by the good guys?" Thad's voice grew quieter, as if the city itself might hear his doubt. "Because this looks absolutely evil—"

He barely finished his sentence before Uzi kicked his glove compartment with her boot, causing the whole truck to jolt. The sudden impact sent all three girls lurching—inside and out. Uzi was prepared for it, the others, not so much.

"Shocking-ow!" Lizzy shouted, rubbing her head where it had smacked against the roof of the truck bed. Her glare could've melted steel.

From the back, Doll groggily pulled herself upright, her visor flickering to life. "(What happened?)" she called out, her tone laced with the grogginess of someone yanked abruptly from a deep rest mode. "(Are we being shot at again?)"

"Bite me!" Uzi snapped, aiming her frustration at the dashboard as if it had personally offended her. She gestured animatedly at the looming city ahead. "They are the heroes! I keep telling you! You'll see!"

Lizzy groaned dramatically, as she cradled her head. "Yeah, sure. Heroes, whatever you say," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Doll just laid back down, as if wanting to return to sleep. Mumbling how it was too early for her cousin's nonsense.

"...Okay," Thad muttered reluctantly, his headlights reflecting off the gleaming insignia beneath his wheels. "...oh, this is just prime."

As they approached the gates of Kaon, the bridge's final span seemed to stretch endlessly. Towering above them, the city walls bristled with defenses, the weapons swiveling silently as though already tracking their arrival. The air grew heavier, buzzing faintly with the hum of shield generators and distant machinery.

It made Uzi sat up straighter, her excitement undeterred by the ominous atmosphere. "Just look at it," she breathed, a grin spreading across her face. "It's perfect."

Thad wasn't convinced. His tires squeaked against the metal of the bridge, a sound swallowed quickly by the city's cacophony.

Kaon awaited.

The Decepticons awaited.