CHAPTER 9: MORE THAN THEY CAN HANDLE

It came out of nowhere, a massive spaceship descending from the heavens to hover ominously over Chicago. Its hull gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, casting long shadows across the cityscape. Alarms blared as the Autobots emerged from their base, staring up in grim anticipation. Whatever this vessel was, it was not of Earth.

Agent Simmons stormed into the atrium, barking orders into his phone while simultaneously glaring at Jeopardy. "You said there wouldn't be more of you coming!" he shouted, gesturing wildly at the alien craft.

"I said it was unlikely, not impossible," Jeopardy replied calmly. His optics were fixed on the ship, his tone measured. "We are still unsure of their intentions."

Simmons ignored him, pressing his phone tighter to his ear. "Yes, Director Attinger, I'll relay it right away," he muttered before snapping his phone shut. "The military is mobilizing. If that thing's hostile, we're blowing it to kingdom come."

Jeopardy frowned, stepping closer to the human. "Absolutely not. I will not allow human casualties. Whatever this is, it's clearly alien in origin. We will investigate."

"Must I remind you this is our home? We will defend it," Simmons shot back, his voice low and tense.

"You have every right to defend your planet, but if this vessel is Cybertronian, it is our responsibility to diffuse the situation," Jeopardy said firmly. "You may be willing to condone the loss of human life over our conflict, but I cannot. Tell your Director to put the military on hold. No engagement until we determine the threat."

Simmons scowled. "You're not our commanding officer, you can't make that call."

Jeopardy leaned down, his optics locking with Simmons' eyes. "Then you can explain why men had to die today when diplomacy could have worked."

Simmons hesitated, the weight of the situation settling in. With a sigh, he lifted his phone again. "Director, the Autobots advise a tactical hold. We'll let them assess the situation first… Yes, sir… Only if they confirm hostility… Understood, sir. Yes." He snapped his phone shut once more, glaring up at Jeopardy. "Alright, but we'll still be watching from the skies. One wrong move, and we light that thing up."

Jeopardy straightened, offering a small nod. "Thank you, Agent Simmons. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Everyone, prepare for possible confrontation," Jeopardy declared, his voice calm but resolute.

"Finally, something to fight!" Impulse shouted with glee, already hefting his flame-adorned minigun onto his shoulder.

"We don't know if they're hostile yet," Jeopardy cautioned. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to have that handy."

Slipstream stepped forward. "I can go ahead, scope it out. See what we're dealing with."

Jeopardy nodded. "Good idea. Go on ahead and report back."

With a swift transformation, Slipstream shot out of the base, her jet form streaking toward the distant landing site of the alien ship.

Jeopardy turned to the others. "If this is Decepticons, we'll need all hands on deck. Meeting them with full strength might be our best shot." He looked at Stormsurge and Hermit Crab. "Storm, Hermit, how do you feel about coming along?"

Hermit Crab shook his head. "I'm better suited as your Mission Control. Trust me, you don't want me out there, I'd be a liability in a firefight."

Jeopardy sighed, understanding. "Fair enough. Storm?"

Stormsurge hesitated, her gaze lingering on the horizon where the ship had disappeared. The thought of facing whatever might be out there, likely remnants of the war she wanted so desperately to leave behind, made her spark race. She swallowed hard. "I'll stay here. With Hermit."

Jeopardy studied her for a moment, recognizing the tension beneath her calm exterior. "Alright, if that's what you're comfortable with."

He retreated to his quarters, retrieving the weapons Impulse had secured for him long ago: an energon shotgun and a heavy, revolver-style pistol. As he returned to the atrium, he found Impulse grinning wildly, the minigun slung over his shoulder. The weapon still bore the flame decals from its time in Flamewar's possession.

"Ready to go kick some aft?" Impulse said, his excitement palpable.

Jeopardy transformed into his vehicle mode. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Such a buzzkill," Impulse muttered, transforming and trailing after him.

Meanwhile, Slipstream landed at the back of the massive ship, its hulking form casting a long shadow over the desert. She examined its angular, militaristic design, trying to discern its origin. "Hey, whoever's in there, come out now so we can figure out what to do with you," she called out, her voice firm but not hostile.

A low rumble echoed from the ship as an exit ramp began to lower. From the dark interior, five imposing silhouettes emerged, their heavy footsteps thudding against the metal ramp. Suddenly, a bright red targeting beam flashed, zeroing in on Slipstream's chest.

"Hard Top, disengage," a gruff voice commanded. "That is no way to treat a fellow Decepticon."

The beam flickered off, and the largest of the figures stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light: Onslaught, leader of the Combaticons. Behind him stood his team: Vortex, Brawl, Blast Off, and Hard Top, each a deadly specialist in their own right.

Onslaught descended the ramp, his calculated gaze locking onto Slipstream. "Forgive him, Captain. We did not anticipate your presence here."

Slipstream blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the familiarity in his tone. "Captain?"

Before she could process the title, Vortex spoke up, her tone sharp and incredulous. "Wait a minute, aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Vortex, not now," Onslaught snapped, his voice cool but authoritative. Turning back to Slipstream, he continued, "We are relieved to find you alive, despite reports of your apparent demise."

Slipstream hesitated, trying to piece together her response. "Uh, yeah. Never better."

Onslaught nodded, as though her vague answer was sufficient. "Perhaps you can assist us, then. We've been tracking a group of Autobot insurgents. Our last encounter with them ended in their escape to this star system. Scans indicate a significant concentration of energon in the nearby metropolis. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Slipstream's optics widened slightly as she realized Onslaught was referring to her friends in Chicago. She forced her voice to remain steady. "And what's the plan if you find them?"

Brawl slammed a fist into his palm, grinning wickedly. "We turn them into scrap metal!"

"More or less," Onslaught said with a nod, his calm tone carrying a dangerous edge.

Slipstream clenched her fists, her mind racing. These Decepticons were going to be a problem.

Onslaught's optics narrowed as he studied Slipstream's chest. "Captain, where is your insignia?" He probed without openly accusing, giving Slipstream just enough rope to either explain or hang herself.

Slipstream tensed, her mind racing for an explanation. "Oh, must have lost it," she said with a forced chuckle. "You know how those darn insignias are, always peeling off and going missing."

"I've never noticed that," Blast Off interjected, his tone skeptical.

Slipstream gave a nervous shrug. "Well, then I must've gotten the short end of the stick."

"What's a stick?" Blast Off asked, tilting his head.

Before Slipstream could respond, Brawl stepped forward, his expression suspicious. "Captain, if I may ask, what's with the sudden change of spark?"

Slipstream did her best to maintain her composure. "Change? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're a lot less commanding than usual, since when are you so docile," Brawl said, his optics narrowing further.

Slipstream gave a nervous laugh. "Uh… must be cause I've been out here so long without my fellow Decepticons. You know, isolation and all that."

Onslaught nodded slowly. "Then you must feel lucky we've found you. I know the other Seekers will be thrilled to learn of your survival."

Before she could respond, Vortex's optics lit up. "Onslaught, bogies coming in at our flank."

Onslaught turned sharply. "Enemy hostiles?"

"Unclear,"

"No, no! They're friendly," Slipstream quickly interjected, trying to defuse the situation.

But as the vehicles approached, her hopes plummeted. The SUV and ATV barreling toward them were unmistakably Jeopardy and Impulse.

Impulse transformed mid-roll, skidding to a halt with his minigun already spinning. "AWESOME! WE GET TO FIGHT THE COMBATICONS! THESE GUYS ARE LEGENDARY!"

Onslaught's optics flared. "AUTOBOTS!" He raised his hand. "COMBATICONS, ENGAGE!"

Slipstream's spark froze. Scrap.

Impulse unleashed a relentless barrage from his minigun, spraying in the general direction of Vortex and Brawl. Bullets ricocheted off their armor as the Combaticons scrambled for cover. Behind him, Jeopardy stood firm, calmly taking aim with his revolver, scanning for an opening.

Onslaught wasted no time, raising his shoulder cannons to target Impulse. But before he could fire, Slipstream acted. She lunged forward, shoving him down to the ground.

"Slipstream, what is the meaning of this?!" Onslaught snarled, his optics blazing with fury.

He barely had time to process her action before he found himself staring down the barrel of her null ray. "So, you have joined the Autobots," he said, his tone laced with disdain. "I thought you were made of sterner stuff."

With a grunt, he pushed himself back to his feet. "Blast Off, remove this traitor from my sight."

Blast Off launched into the air. He rocketed toward Slipstream, slamming into her and wrapping her in a crushing grapple. His arms locked around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides as he carried her higher and higher into the sky.

Slipstream struggled, writhing against his iron grip. "Let go of me, you piece of scrap!" she growled, but Blast Off only squeezed tighter, the altitudes making her movements sluggish.

Slipstream, desperate, began kicking wildly. When her usual kicks failed, inspiration struck. She activated her ankle thruster mid-kick, blasting Blast Off in his crotchplate.

"AGH! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Blast Off howled, releasing her in pain.

Slipstream wasted no time. She transformed into her jet alt-mode, stabilizing herself as she dove back toward the battle below. Her relief was short-lived as Blast Off, now in his own jet mode, was hot on her tail.

Laser blasts streaked past her as he opened fire, forcing her into evasive maneuvers. Slipstream darted between clouds, barrel-rolling to avoid his relentless assault. She wasn't trained for this, dogfights were foreign to her, but survival instincts kicked in as she zigzagged through the sky, determined to lead him away from her allies.

Meanwhile, on the ground, Brawl and Vortex closed the distance on Impulse and Jeopardy. Impulse's minigun sputtered to a stop, the barrels overheated after prolonged use.

"Hell yeah! I call Brawl!" Impulse shouted with glee, already charging at the hulking Decepticon.

This left Jeopardy to face Vortex, who came at him with a wicked grin and a blade glinting in her hand. She lunged with a downward slash, which Jeopardy barely dodged. "You sure we can't just talk this out?!" he yelled, ducking under another swing.

"Shut up and fight!" Vortex sneered, pressing the attack with a flurry of strikes.

Meanwhile, Impulse was having the time of his life, grappling with Brawl as if it were a friendly sparring match. "Hey Brawl, I heard you guys fought the Wreckers in Durax!" he mentioned, blocking a powerful haymaker. "Who'd you end up fighting? Was it Springer? Bet that was an epic throwdown!"

Brawl grunted, ignoring the chatter as he delivered a series of crushing blows, which Impulse skillfully dodged or absorbed with his thick armor.

On the edge of the skirmish, Onslaught was quietly lining up a shot with his shoulder cannons. His optics locked onto Jeopardy, who was frantically dodging Vortex's relentless strikes. As Jeopardy stumbled to the side, Onslaught found his opening.

FWOOOM!

A bright beam of energy shot from his cannon, striking Jeopardy on the top of his shoulder and sending him to the ground with a grunt of pain. He clutched his wounded shoulder, wincing, as Vortex stood over him, her blade poised at his throat.

"Dodge this, medic," she hissed, ready to strike.

Before she could deliver the fatal blow, Impulse came barreling in from behind, grabbing her head with one massive hand.

"Think fast!" he quipped, hoisting her into the air and hurling her like a projectile. Vortex slammed into Brawl, who had been charging Impulse from the side, sending both Combaticons tumbling into a heap.

"That was close," Impulse said, dusting off his hands. Then he noticed Jeopardy's smoldering wound. "Oh hey, look at that! Your first battle scar! Congrats, man!"

"Will you pay attention to what's going on?!" Jeopardy snapped, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"I am paying attention! It's just… I'm having a blast!" Impulse said, grinning ear to ear.

Jeopardy pointed at the stunned Vortex and Brawl. "Then have a blast over there!"

"Fine, by me," Impulse relented, then his optics lit up as he spotted a nearby car. "Hey, think the humans will mind if I borrow this?"

"Yes," Jeopardy deadpanned.

"Eh, they'll understand." Impulse shrugged, picking up the car with ease and lobbing it at Onslaught. The vehicle sailed through the air, slamming into the Combaticon leader and sending him sprawling.

"Hell yeah, direct hit!" Impulse cheered.

As Impulse charged back into the fray, Jeopardy ducked behind a crumbling building, scanning the battlefield for any opportunity to assist. His attention was pulled to the sky as an American fighter jet swooped low, unleashing a precise missile strike that hit the edge of the combat zone. The explosion sent a cloud of debris flying, scattering in the area where Hard Top had been positioned as a sniper.

Jeopardy tapped his commlink, a frustrated edge to his voice. "Simmons, I told you to hold off the military!"

Simmons' voice crackled back, nonchalant and mildly condescending. "Usually when people get saved from a sniper, they're a bit more thankful."

"I don't want human lives on the line. Let us handle this." Jeopardy insisted, glancing at the skies as the jet climbed to circle the battlefield.

"All I see is you Autobots making a mess too close for comfort for the top brass," Simmons retorted.

"And you think you could do any better?" Jeopardy shot back, exasperated.

"We see this spilling into the nearby UIC, so yes I do," There was a smug pause. "Now, which jet is your girlfriend so I can tell my boys who not to shoot?"

Jeopardy blinked in confusion. "What's a girlfriend?"

"Slipstream. What are her colors?" Simmons clarified, clearly impatient.

"Purple and turquoise," Jeopardy replied tersely.

"Got it. Over and out." The line went dead.

Before Jeopardy could reposition, a thunderous blast shook the ground, tearing through the building he was using as cover. Chunks of concrete and steel rained down around him. He barely had time to register the impact when Impulse's voice rang out through the chaos.

"HEY JEOPARDY, I THINK ONSLAUGHT WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

As if summoned, Onslaught vaulted over the wreckage, landing heavily in front of Jeopardy. His towering frame cast a menacing shadow, his dual shoulder cannons humming ominously as they charged for another shot.

Unfortunately for Jeopardy, the Combaticon leader wasn't in the mood for a conversation.

"How long did you think you could hide from us, Autobot?" Onslaught growled, his voice like grinding metal as his right hand shifted and reformed into a brutal axehead.

"Long enough to have a conversation," Jeopardy quipped, drawing his revolver and firing from the hip. The shot missed, sparking harmlessly against a nearby building. Onslaught lunged, bringing the axehead down in a deadly arc. Jeopardy narrowly rolled out of its path and scrambled to his feet, eyes scanning for something, anything, that could help him bridge the vast gap in skill.

Spotting a nearby lamp pole, Jeopardy rushed across the street and ripped it from the sidewalk, wielding it like a makeshift staff. As Onslaught closed in, Jeopardy swung with all his might, the pole slamming into the Combaticon leader's chest. The blow made Onslaught stagger slightly, but he recovered almost immediately, his red optics blazing with renewed fury. He swung the axehand again, and Jeopardy blocked it with his hands, the force of the impact reverberating through his arms.

Jeopardy pushed against Onslaught's forearm, locking the axe away from his chest. But the victory was short-lived. Onslaught's free hand shot forward, delivering a crushing punch to Jeopardy's face. The medic stumbled back, his grip on the lamp pole faltering. Onslaught reverted his axehead back to a hand, his posture calm and confident.

"I know your kind well, Kalisian," Onslaught sneered. "I have fought your city's warrior class before. The proud warriors of Kalis: arrogant, overconfident, and that made them weak."

Jeopardy lunged forward, throwing a punch aimed at Onslaught's chest. The Combaticon leader sidestepped with ease. "Slow," he muttered disdainfully. Jeopardy tried a sweeping kick, but Onslaught caught his leg mid-motion. With a grunt of exertion, Onslaught hurled Jeopardy into a goalpost at the edge of a football field. The impact twisted the post into a warped mess, and Jeopardy crashed to the ground in a heap.

Groaning, Jeopardy pushed himself upright just in time to see Onslaught rolling toward him in vehicle mode. The Combaticon transformed mid-charge, towering over Jeopardy once more.

"Go on," Onslaught taunted, spreading his arms wide. "Show me the fighting spirit your city prides itself on."

Jeopardy adjusted his stance, lifting his fists in what he hoped resembled a defensive posture. Onslaught snorted in disdain. "Sloppy technique," he said, his optics narrowing as he caught sight of the medic's emblems on Jeopardy's shoulders. "Ah, a healer. What a waste of spare parts."

Onslaught charged again. Jeopardy fired his shotgun, the blast catching Onslaught in the shoulder. The Combaticon leader staggered but didn't fall. Jeopardy prepared another shot, but Onslaught's shoulder cannon flared to life, forcing Jeopardy to dive out of the way as the energy blast tore a crater in the field.

"For a bot born for combat," Onslaught mused, advancing relentlessly, "you fight like you're afraid to lock fists." He closed the gap with terrifying speed, driving a brutal punch into Jeopardy's abdomen. "As if you've NEVER locked fists before today."

Jeopardy swung again, but Onslaught caught his hand mid-strike, his grip tightening with cruel force. Jeopardy cried out in agony as the metal of his hand crumpled, energon leaking from the mangled limb. Onslaught twisted the hand further, forcing Jeopardy to his knees before kicking him to the ground.

"You traded valor for cowardice, your blade for a scalpel. And now, you die as you lived, " Onslaught said, his voice cold and mocking as his axehead reformed, glinting in the fading sunlight. He raised it high above his head, ready to deliver the final blow. "a failed soldier, unworthy of the battlefield or the respect of your peers or your enemies, even in these final moments,"

A sudden barrage of gunfire rained down from above, forcing Onslaught to halt his advance and glance skyward. Slipstream came barreling down from the clouds, her null rays blazing wildly. She slowed her descent just enough to transform mid-air and deliver a powerful dropkick straight to Onslaught's chest, sending the Combaticon leader crashing backward.

Landing unsteadily, Slipstream turned to Jeopardy, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Did I do good?"

"You did very good," Jeopardy assured her, his voice strained as he cradled his mangled hand.

Slipstream's optics widened when she noticed the injury. "What happened to your hand?"

Jeopardy nodded toward the recovering Onslaught. "Him."

Before Slipstream could respond, the distant roar of engines signaled Blast Off retreating under heavy fire from the circling American fighter jets. Slipstream, still catching her breath, glanced down at her own scorched and dented frame. "Turns out I'm not that good at fighting as a jet," she admitted, wincing slightly.

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly great at fighting either," Jeopardy replied, grimacing as he shifted his weight.

Onslaught, though shaken, rose from the ground with a growl of fury. Slipstream immediately opened fire with her null rays, the shots peppering the area around him. While some blasts went wide, the ones that hit staggered him, keeping him from retaliating.

Jeopardy, still nursing his injured hand, called out, "You're aiming for non-lethal parts, right?"

"Uh… which ones are those?" Slipstream asked, still firing.

"Arms, legs, try not to hit the chest or head."

"Oh, uh, noted!" Slipstream replied, quickly adjusting her aim to focus on Onslaught's limbs, her shots now more controlled but still not the most accurate.

A small volley of gunfire rained down from the sky, courtesy of the American Air Force, targeting the area where Impulse was battling Brawl and Vortex. Jeopardy activated his commlink as he and Slipstream made their way over. "Impulse, you doing alright?"

"I AM HAVING A WONDERFUL TIME!" Impulse responded, his voice brimming with genuine excitement.

As they got closer, they saw Vortex be thrown into the air, presumably by Impulse. Vortex screamed, "SCREW THIS!" before transforming mid-air and joining Blast Off in a chaotic aerial skirmish. A loud THUD then echoed across the battlefield.

"What was that?" Jeopardy asked, glancing around.

"Just juggling two Combaticons, literally," Impulse answered with a laugh, followed by another THEN sound. "Don't worry, big guy, you'll get your turn on the trampoline," he joked, clearly referring to Brawl. "You seen Hard Top anywhere?"

"Not for a while," Jeopardy replied. Moments later, Jeopardy and Slipstream heard Impulse's voice booming without the commlink as they closed in on his position.

"Oh, I think I just did," Impulse added. They finally spotted him as he wrestled Brawl into a chokehold, using him as a shield. A glint of metal from a nearby spot revealed Hard Top aiming down his scope. "Come on, Brawl, smile for the camera!" Impulse quipped.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU PSYCHOPATH!" Brawl roared, thrashing in Impulse's grip.

Meanwhile, the American military had intensified their response. Tanks rumbled onto the scene, and convoys of soldiers spread out to engage the Combaticons. In the air, Blast Off and Vortex faced off against a trio of fighter jets.

Jeopardy's optics narrowed at the growing human presence. He raised his voice, "Keep your distance! Let us handle this!"

But before they could react, the sound of transformation behind them made Jeopardy's spark drop. Onslaught lunged out of the shadows, tackling Slipstream from behind. The two tumbled across the ground, exchanging punches. Jeopardy, gritting his teeth, pulled out his revolver with his good hand and fired at Onslaught, managing to strike his leg.

Onslaught snarled and redirected his focus, deploying his axehead hand. "You don't know when to quit, do you?" he growled, charging at Jeopardy.

Quickly, Jeopardy switched to his shotgun. In his haste, he forgot it was already chambered, pumped it again, and fired. The weapon discharged a powerful double shot, sending Onslaught flying into the side of his ship. The recoil knocked Jeopardy onto his back, but the shotgun miraculously remained intact, as if it was built to withstand the blast.

Onslaught pulled himself out of the dented hull, stunned. "Where did you get a charge-action!?" he demanded, incredulous.

"I stole it!" Impulse proudly declared, right before Brawl managed to knee him in the abdomen, finally breaking free.

American tanks and artillery opened fire on the Combaticons' ship, their blasts causing only superficial damage. Onslaught scowled as he calculated their odds. "Enough of this," he growled. "Combaticons, return to the ship! We will not be stranded on this backwater world."

At his command, the Combaticons disengaged from their respective battles and hurried back to the ship. Within moments, the vessel ascended, leaving the Autobots behind in its wake.

"Aw, come on, I was having fun!" Impulse groaned, lowering his minigun in disappointment.

"This is good, right? They're leaving?" Slipstream asked, still catching her breath.

Jeopardy didn't share her optimism. "If they reunite with the main Decepticon forces, our location will be compromised. We can't let them escape the planet."

"So, what, we shoot them out of the sky?" Slipstream suggested.

"Not an option," Jeopardy admitted, watching the ship climb higher. "We'd risk collateral damage to the city."

Impulse's optics lit up with a reckless idea, one that was both inspired and incredibly stupid. "I've got it!" he declared, running up behind Slipstream. Without warning, he leaped onto her back.

"IMPULSE, WHAT THE HELL?!" Slipstream shrieked, wobbling under his sudden weight.

"How fast can you fly?" Impulse asked, adjusting his grip.

"Uh… fast?"

"Good enough! Slip, set your thrusters to maximum overdrive!"

"What's maximum overdrive?"

"It's what we're doing to catch their ship and bring it down! Now come on, think fast, MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE!"

"I don't even know how to do that!"

"Just think fast thoughts!"

Slipstream groaned. "Fine, I'll try."

"ALRIGHT, HERE WE FRAGGING GO! MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE!" Impulse yelled, bracing for a sudden burst of speed.

For a moment, there was nothing but awkward silence.

"Impulse…" Jeopardy began, folding his arms.

"Dang it, this was going to be so co—" Impulse started, but before he could finish, Slipstream's thrusters roared to life. They shot into the sky at breakneck speed, her engines leaving a trail of heat and light as they rocketed upward.

"OH YEAH, THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Impulse whooped, holding on for dear life as Slipstream chased after the fleeing ship.

"WAS THIS PART OF YOUR PLAN?!" Slipstream screamed as they rocketed toward the Combaticons' ship, her thrusters straining to maintain their blistering speed.

"THIS WAS THE MAIN PART OF THE PLAN!" Impulse shouted back, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind.

"OK, WHAT NOW?!" she demanded, her optics darting between Impulse and the rapidly approaching ship.

"FLY UP PAST THE SHIP!"

Slipstream gritted her teeth, pushing her thrusters even harder as she angled up and soared above the massive vessel. The Combaticons' ship loomed beneath them like a titan of metal and menace.

"WHAT NOW?!" she called out, her circuits buzzing with adrenaline.

"YOU SEE THEIR WINDSHIELD?!" Impulse hollered, pointing to the front of the ship.

"YEAH!" Slipstream replied, already dreading the answer.

"AIM FOR IT!"

"LIKE SHOOT IT?!"

"NO, WE'RE FLYING THROUGH IT!"

"ARE YOU CRAZY!?" Slipstream's voice cracked with panic as the ship's bridge grew larger in her view.

"IT'S COMING AT US ANYWAY! THIS ONLY WORKS IF WE HIT IT HEAD-ON!" Impulse yelled, his excitement undeterred by the imminent danger.

"WE'RE GONNA GET SPLATTERED!"

"THEN JUST FOLLOW ME DOWN!" Impulse bellowed as he suddenly leapt off her back, hurling himself directly toward the ship like a living missile.

"IMPULSE!" Slipstream shrieked. She hesitated for a split second, the sheer insanity of his plan hitting her like a jolt of static. "DAMMIT, NOT AGAIN!" she cursed, diving after him, her null rays crackling to life as they plunged toward the ship together.

As Impulse plummeted toward the bridge's windshield, he got a perfect view of the Combaticons' reactions. Vortex was wildly gesturing and shouting, Blast Off was practically vibrating with panic, Brawl was roaring in fury, Hard Top remained stone-faced, and Onslaught stood in the center, his optics narrowing with pure rage.

With a deafening crash, Impulse smashed through the windshield, colliding straight into Onslaught and sending both of them sprawling onto the floor of the ship's bridge. Shards of reinforced glass and sparks scattered everywhere. "Hey guys, ready for Round 2?!" Impulse bellowed, grinning as he dramatically kicked open the door to the bridge.

"You have to be the stupidest Autobot we've ever fought!" Brawl roared, charging forward.

Before he could reach Impulse, Slipstream blasted in through the broken windshield, grabbed Vortex mid-scream, and hurled her into the hallway outside. "THAT MAKES TWO OF US!" she shouted, readying her null rays.

Chaos erupted as the two Autobots fought the Combaticons in close quarters, their crazy maneuver leaving the group off guard and unprepared. Impulse quickly grappled with Hard Top, using his brute strength to lift him and slam him through the bridge doorway into the hallway. Slipstream quickly joined him, the two managing to overpower Brawl and toss him into the growing pile of Combaticons outside the bridge.

During the melee, their wild brawl sent them crashing into the ship's controls. Alarms blared, and the entire vessel shuddered as it began to tilt downward, descending dangerously toward Chicago.

Onslaught, furious, came at them like a wrecking ball, putting up a brutal fight. But teamwork prevailed, Impulse and Slipstream finally shoved him into the hallway, slamming the blast doors shut just as Onslaught roared in defiance.

Panting, Impulse turned to the flashing control panel.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW TO FLY THIS THING?!" Slipstream shouted, keeping a wary eye on Blast Off, who was still cowering against the wall.

"Eh, how hard could it be?" Impulse said, frantically pressing buttons. "Ok, turns out it's really hard. But it's fine, I think I know someone who can help." He tapped his commlink. "Yo, Hermit! Hope you're not too busy!"

Hermit Crab sighed heavily through the commlink. "What is it, Impulse?"

"How do you fly a plane?" Impulse asked, completely oblivious to the gravity of his question.

Hermit Crab sat in stunned silence, his processor struggling to reconcile the absurdity of what he'd just heard. He clung to the hope that Impulse might offer more context, but no such luck.

Finally, Hermit managed, "What did you do?"

"We kicked the Combaticons out of their bridge. How do I fly a plane?"

"Where are—" Hermit started, but then his optics caught a live feed on one of his monitors: a massive alien ship descending ominously through the clouds, angling dangerously toward the city. "What the frag?" he muttered, leaning closer to confirm the sight.

"Yeah, so how do I not crash into Chicago?" Impulse pressed, as if this were a minor detail.

"Alright, alright," Hermit muttered, scrambling for a solution. "What model is the ship?"

"Uh… spaceship?"

"Nevermind," Hermit groaned, muttering to himself, "Don't know why I expected anything more than that."

Meanwhile, the situation on the ship was rapidly deteriorating. "IMPULSE, COULD YOU GO A BIT FASTER?!" Slipstream yelled, her null rays now trained on the blast doors as Onslaught and the other Combaticons pounded furiously from the other side, trying to force their way back in.

"OKAY, OKAY!" Impulse shouted, frantically scanning the bridge controls. Then, a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. He spun around, grabbed the trembling Blast Off, and yanked him out of his hiding spot. Impulse plopped him firmly into the pilot's seat. "You know how to fly this rig?"

"Y-yeah," Blast Off stammered, his optics darting between the controls and the looming skyline.

Without hesitation, Impulse slammed his fist into the console, "Good," he said, leaning in close. "Drop us somewhere safe, Fly Boy."

Blast Off gritted his teeth as he wrestled with the controls, managing to pull the ship's nose up just enough to avoid slamming into downtown Chicago. The ship leveled out as it veered over Lake Michigan, descending steadily toward the water. The skyline slowly disappeared behind them, replaced by the vast, shimmering expanse of the lake and the Superior Peninsula approaching on the horizon.

Blast Off reached for the thruster controls, intent on getting the ship airborne again and escaping. Before he could activate them, however, Impulse's hand came down like a sledgehammer, smashing the controls into useless scrap. Sparks flew, and the entire console fizzled out.

"Don't you dare," Impulse said, his optics narrowing with a mischievous glint.

Blast Off recoiled, furious. "You idiot! We're going to sink!"

"Exactly," Impulse replied with a grin, watching the water rush closer.

"IMPULSE, THEY'RE BREAKING THROUGH!" Slipstream shouted from her position at the blast doors, which were now buckling under the combined force of Onslaught and the rest of the Combaticons.

"OK!" Impulse called back, turning to Blast Off. "Thanks for the ride, Blast Off. We'd tip you, but we're broke."

Without another word, Impulse sprinted toward the shattered windshield, leaping out into the open air just as the ship was about to hit the water. Slipstream darted after him, catching him just before he could plummet into the lake.

The Combaticons' ship struck the water with a deafening crash, sending massive waves rippling outward. The vessel began to sink rapidly, its rear already disappearing beneath the surface as the weight of the ship dragged it down.

"Nice catch!" Impulse said, giving Slipstream a thumbs-up as she struggled to keep them both aloft.

"Shut up and hold still!" Slipstream snapped, her thrusters working overtime to carry them back toward the city as the ship sank below the waves, the last of its lights flickering out beneath the surface.