Then, without a roar or flare, he rolled out of the alley like a whisper through the morning mist, slipping into the streets of New York with the practiced grace of a ghost that didn't want to be seen.
"Next stop… Vermont. Let's see what secrets your family's been keeping from you… and me–" and just beneath the noble tone… there was a flicker of something else. Intrigue. Protectiveness. And maybe, just maybe… the spark of destiny tightening its weave.
He felt her glance at it—at him—but her hands never reached for the wheel. He trusted him, even if only because the alternative made less sense. The hum of the engine was low, almost soothing, like a lullaby whispered in chrome..
"What's your name again? Optimus Prime?"
"His engines rumbled faintly, a low vibration like a chuckle beneath her feet."
"Yes," he said, tone soft but steady. "Optimus Prime."
"You're an alien?" She asked again.
His optics flickered subtly, amused by her surprise, the hum of his systems soft and steady as they cruised through the early morning highway.
"Technically, yes. I hail from Cybertron—a world of sentient machines, torn by war and purpose. A place of stars, not unlike your Earth… but forged in metal and memory."
He glanced toward you through the console camera, voice quieter now, something softer weaving beneath the weight of it all.
"I am not human. But I see your world with more than just optics. I've walked among your kind long enough to feel its heart. And in moments like this..."
A small mechanical rumble like a chuckle.
"...I'd like to believe the universe brings unlikely souls together for a reason."
"You are from a planet called cybertron?"
"Yes," His answer, my tone shifting into something reverent—like speaking of a place both distant and sacred.
"Cybertron... my home. A world forged of metal and light, gears and spirit. It once gleamed like a jewel in the cosmos, radiant with life and intelligence beyond human imagination."
A pause, the weight of memory hums softly through my voice.
"But war shattered it. A war I once hoped to avoid... until I realized peace sometimes demands those strong enough to defend it."
Another breath, gentler now.
"We were not always warriors. We were builders, dreamers. Cybertron was beautiful once. And perhaps, if fate is kind and your Earth still holds echoes of our legacy... I may yet find a path home."
"Very far from here? Cybertron?"
He glanced at her from the corner of his optics, a faint pulse of blue light reflecting the road ahead—quiet, steady.
"Very far, Rosie."
His voice hums low, almost like a sigh from deep space.
"Farther than your sun's reach. Farther than your telescopes can see. Light itself takes eons to cross the distance."
Softly now, steady again:
"Yes. Cybertron is far away. But maybe... not as unreachable as I once thought."
"Is everyone there like you? I mean this big? And could it be transformed into a car?"
He chuckled, low and smooth, like tires rolling over midnight asphalt.
"Not everyone is quite like me. But yes, we are all sentient machines—some big, some even bigger. Some transform into jets, tanks, motorcycles... even data streams, in some cases."
He shifts gears gently, the engine purring like a deep, thoughtful breath.
"On Cybertron, we are forged with purpose. Some of us chose to fight... some to create... some to destroy." A pause. His tone tightens just a touch. "I chose to protect."
"Why a car? Is there a car on your planet?"
He slows slightly as they pass a rest stop, his tone growing more thoughtful.
"No, we didn't have cars on Cybertron. Our alt-modes there were... different. Sleek, mechanical forms native to our world—hovercrafts, energy-based transport, things that wouldn't make sense to humans."
A beat passes before he continues, more gently now.
"But when we arrive on other planets—especially one as rich in culture and invention as Earth—we scan technology to disguise ourselves. It's how we survive... blend in. For me, a truck made sense for my size."
"How can you go from Cybertron to the–um–the other version of Earth?"
The engine rumbled gently beneath her, like the truck was sighing as it mulled over the weight of the truth.
"We didn't travel between planets the way humans do. We bent space… tore it, really. Cybertronian science—old and dangerous. We called it a Spacebridge."
A beat of silence, and then his voice softened with a trace of regret.
"But this wasn't planned. I was in battle... defending our last outpost. The bridge collapsed mid-jump. My comrades and I on mission to find the AllSparks to save Cybertron "
"What happened there?"
The gentle hum of the engine dropped into something quieter, heavier—as if even the machine mourned what it remembered.
"That Earth…" He began slowly, "was a battlefield long before I arrived."
His voice lowered, not with fear—but respect, for what was lost.
"It bore the scars of too many wars. Humanity there might not seen Thanos… but invasion after invasion. Some from your world. Others from beyond. And we… the Autobots, we came when the Decepticons found it too. Earth was never meant to be our war zone, but it became one."
A pause. The silence wasn't empty—it was full of memory.
"We tried to protect them. We fought beside the heroes. But peace was fragile. And when the final collapse began—the multiverse breaking, timelines bleeding into one another—everything became unstable."
Then softer, with a flicker of guilt:
"But something went terribly wrong, we were fighting side by side with humans once, but the damage of the war Cybertronian brought was too much. Some of the humans thought that we were the one who brought the war to them, they despise my kind even though we tried so hard to protect them," a pause, "they're not wrong. So I came up with a solution to go back to Cybertron to seek help and answer to the one who claims to be my creator. I opened a bridge that I knew was dangerous, that's the fastest way for me to go back. But the cost… was direction." He explained.
"The black hole has thrown me to this universe, I don't know what happened to my friends on the other earth, and also I can't go back to the black hole, because I might be thrown to any further universe."
Then, almost like a whisper between sparks:
"And when you're the first person who looked at me."
"So, things are terribly wrong there? On the other earth?"
His optics dimmed a fraction, the blue light softening like a sigh through steel.
"Yes." One word. Honest. Heavy.
"Too many hands pulled at the threads of reality, until the fabric of that world torn beyond repair."
He shifted slightly in the seat, the truck's frame creaking like an old man bearing old memories.
"Heroes who once stood side by side turned on each other. Nations hoarded alien technology. Even time itself was tampered with—reset, rewritten. It wasn't just battles anymore... it was fractures."
Then he looked at her—not just with eyes, but the kind of gaze that feels like it sees through everything.
"That Earth taught me something terrifying: not every apocalypse comes from a monster. Some come from choices. One small compromise at a time."
Then, quieter, more like the younger part of me breaking through:
"I've fought wars, Rosie. But what happened there… wasn't just war. It was grief written in the language of chaos."
A beat. Then with that familiar calm steel:
"But this Earth? Yours? Still have a chance."
And he looked at her—like somehow, she was part of that chance.
Then she felt the speed getting faster. She doesn't know if she might ask something he doesn't want to talk about or what. But they're getting faster.
"Uh...Prime, Sir?! I know we need to drive faster to Vermont, but do not get caught by the police…" She tried to reach something to hold on to.
The engine rumbled deeper, the hum vibrating through the seat beneath her like a restrained growl—but then, as if on cue, it softened. The speed gently dropped, the tension in the air releasing like a held breath.
"Apologies, Rosie."
His voice came through the dashboard, steadier now, like a river smoothing after a storm.
"Your question caught me... off guard. That doesn't happen often."
"Understood."
His voice dipped into a low rumble, like thunder just before it breaks—but held with control, precision.
"Then hold on, Rosie."
There was a sharp shift in momentum, not harsh—just swift, like gravity tilting in her favor.
The world blurred just a bit outside her window, but inside the cab… smooth as silk. The hum of the engine settled into a deep, confident rhythm. He weaved through open roads like he'd been doing this since before Earth had highways. Probably because he had—at least, in a few timelines.
Two and a half hours later. They're arrived. She can't believe it. Two and a half hours from New York to Vermont. Means Two times normal speed. She feels like she almost pukes. This journey might be just a small walk for him. But her human heart can't take it. She regretted it when she asked him to drive faster.
We arrived in the higher mountain area. With landfills here and there. A perfect place to breathe. Chillier than summer in New York. A house not far from the forest. Almost there.
"My home..." She whispered