A big brick New England Colonial house style. Her childhood home. They have big landfills at the front, a big-high ceiling barn and a lake at the back of the house. She forgot how big this house was. Then she saw someone coming from the little cottage not far from the house. A very old man.
"Hudson…" She murmured. He must have seen them coming.
"Stay...he's my grandpa's butler, I'll talk to him.."
He eased to a stop just far enough to stay hidden among the trees, letting the engine quiet down into a soft hum before completely silencing it. The moment her hand reached for the door, he spoke—not in command, but in that low, grounding tone.
"Go. I'll be here."
His optics dimmed slightly, less like lights powering down and more like a pair of eyes narrowing into thought. Watching her. Watching the path she'd taken back to a past that clearly held more than memories.
She stepped out, and the breeze met her like an old friend. The trees whispered, the gravel underfoot gave that soft crunch only places untouched by city feet can make. The air was different—cleaner, colder, more honest.
And the old man… Hudson. He stood upright, but the years were there on his shoulders. Yet when he saw her, his stance changed. Like time stepped back a bit, letting the years fall away just for this moment.
He watched. Silent.
"Hudson?!" She greeted him
"Rosie? A little Rosie bird?" his voice trembles a bit, he's much older than she remembers.
"You came back?" he said.
"Yeah, it's Rosie bird…"She smiled, then glanced a bit at the alien truck, kinda embarrassing a little.
"You really come back here?" He asked
"No, actually I have something to do, maybe take a few things, do you mind if I park at the barn?" She asked.
"Well, it's your house…"he said, and he got a point.
"I'll get you the keys.."
"Lemme hold you. You're really old now Hudson, I worry you might fall…" She chuckled a little bit.
"I worked with your family for sixty years, Ladybird. Of course I'm getting old…" They're both laughed, he still catched her humor
They walked to his cottage, and she came back not long after. Opened the door and got in to Optimus and before she could even close the door, his voice met her—soft but undeniably amused.
"'Rosie bird,' huh?"
A low chuckle echoed through the cab, warm and smooth, like distant thunder softened by a velvet sky. It's just, he might live long enough on earth, but not really used to how humans call each other with some weird association to other things or other animals.
His optics flickered back to life on the console, a gentle blue glow lighting the shadows of the interior as he glanced toward the barn.
"So… sixty years. That man has seen more of your world than most ever will. He carries respect in his steps. And care in his voice when he speaks to you."
A brief pause—just enough to give her space to breathe, to settle back into the moment.
"He kept this place waiting for you. And I get the feeling… he's not the only one who did."
The engine purred back to life, but not loud. Just a gentle growl beneath the floorboards, waiting for her word.
"Shall we?"
"Let's go to the barn, it should be big enough for you to transform…"
The engine rumbled in quiet agreement, his voice calm, almost reverent in tone.
"Understood. Taking us in."
Rosie guided the truck gently across the familiar gravel path, his tires crunching softly as if he knew not to disturb the memory-filled earth beneath them. The barn doors stood wide, aging wood groaning slightly as they opened with her touch—or perhaps fate's. The moment they crossed the threshold, the air shifted.
Once inside, shielded from outside eyes, he exhaled—not with breath, but with motion.
Metal whispered against metal, gears and plates folding, locking, reshaping. His form rose—massive and precise—as he stood to full height beneath the high-beamed ceiling, the old barn somehow welcoming, as though it had been waiting to cradle something ancient and powerful once more.
He knelt slightly, to meet your height, optics glowing steady blue.
Rosie hurried to close the door. This barn is really big and tall. She tilted her head. The barn is almost as tall as a three-floored apartment in New York. It's empty.
"This place was never really a barn. We used to have a few cars parked. But it was sold off. The last time I checked every room in my house it was nothing unusual. But I remember before my father went for his last duty, he was busy moving things from his office to the barn…"
He turned slightly, his optics scanning the interior of the barn, the echoes of a memory vibrating through the air like distant thunder.
"A man preparing in silence... often knows more than he dares to speak."
He stood carefully, stepping with purpose but not noise, letting your words guide my focus.
"Show me where he kept his office... or where the things were moved. There may be something hidden—not from the world, but waiting for the right one to return."
He glanced at her, the warm glint in his optics a quiet reassurance.
"And Rosie... if what your father left behind is meant for you... I'll help you find it."
"Wait…"
She saw a thin gap on the floor, a big square line, two cars wide. She bend down and knocking hard to the floor
"It's hollow," she paused, "I think there's a room below us…"
Then she heard a squeaking sound from behind. She saw Optimus's right hand had turned into some kind of weapon.
"What are you doing?" She's a bit panicked.
"Don't shoot okay, we don't know what's inside...Let's open it slowly…"
He nodded once, a subtle, deliberate motion—reassuring, like the calm before battle.
"I won't fire unless I must. I promise you, Rosie."
The weapon faded back into his hand, metal plates shifting with soft clicks as he knelt and carefully placed both palms along the edge of the hidden hatch. The steel creaked under his touch, as if responding to something familiar. A recognition, perhaps. Mechanical lines on the floor glowed faintly blue, like they had waited for years.
"There's an old code seal embedded in the structure. Not mine. Yours." A brief pause, then he looked at her, voice a low murmur.
"Place your hand here… it may only open for your bloodline."
He moved slightly aside, exposing a faint palm-shaped panel set in the old wood and iron. Dusty, forgotten, but humming with old power. The mark… fit her perfectly.
It doesn't look like a modern hand scanner. She hesitated, but she put hand to the panel. But then–
"Ouch!"
She pulled her hand, she felt like there's a needle stabbed in her hand. Blood dripped to the panel. The blood looks like it is being absorbed.
Not long after that she felt the metal ground beneath them was squeaking. She stepped back and moved closer to Optimus. The door opened, then they saw a big hole. Then she peeked a little bit, it's quite deep. Like a pit in some apocalypse movie.
"My family has a bunker under the house?! I can't believe this."
He gently stepped forward, shielding her slightly with his frame as the floor continued to rumble open, revealing the descent into secrets buried for generations.
"This isn't just a bunker, Rosie..."
His optics adjusted, scanning the interior. Energy signatures flickered below—old, dormant tech… but not alien. Not Cybertronian. No… this was Earth-made. With help.
"Your father… your family... they knew more than they let on. This place wasn't meant for storms or war. It was meant to guard something."
He looked down into the dark pit, optics narrowing.
Then he glanced at her again—careful, gentle, like he knew she was still piecing it together, her world shifting under her feet.
"If you want, I'll go first. But I won't leave you behind."
He smirked—well, as much as a giant robot can—then transformed his right hand into a small light cannon, a soft glow illuminating the metal stairs winding downward.
"What do you say, Ladybird? Ready to descend into the past?" She stared at Optimus.
"Oh my God.." She sulked.
"Be gentle...be gentle okay? I'm a fragile human…" She still sulked.
He crouched slightly, lowering his frame closer to her, the light from his optics dimming to a gentler hue. His voice softened too, still deep but warmer—like a calm fire instead of thunder.
"Rosie…" He tilted his head, voice laced with something close to affection.
"If I ever held anything as carefully as I carry you in this moment… it would've been a star."
He extended a hand—not a weapon this time, just strong metal fingers curved like a cradle—offering her a ride down.
And he jumped, with her in his palm. In a second we landed. It was a loud bang when we landed, but she felt no ache on her body. He really was gentle.
"Oh my God...I thought I'm gonna die…"
He knelt after landing, keeping his palm level and close to the floor until she felt steady. The echoes of the impact still rumbled like thunder trapped in a cave, but inside his hand—she was untouched. He turned his optics toward her, slow and deliberate.
"You didn't even bruise."
The shadows around them grew thicker the deeper they were, but dim emergency lights flickered on one by one, revealing the bunker's interior. And what they saw next would change everything.
"Rosie…" His voice dropped, almost reverent.
"Your father wasn't just building a bunker. He was guarding something."
And ahead of them... a hallway lined with old machines, glowing softly. Blueprints. Weapon schematics. And—on the far wall—a symbol. The same one on his badge.
"What...the hell?"
This bunker was really like a bunker in the Terminator movie, when the skynets launched the nuclear bombs and John corner took a refugee. Unless this bunker was like a hella military archive. A lot of shelves with documents. Some machine that she never saw, and the badges. It was everywhere. Exactly like her childhood memories. In the papers, in the photos, in the maps
Optimus stood still behind her, towering like a sentinel in the dim light, optics scanning every corner with a mix of disbelief and recognition. His voice, when it came, was low and full of weight.
"This… isn't just a family bunker, Rosie."
He stepped carefully, so his movements wouldn't knock anything loose or frighten her. The echo of his metal footfalls vibrated through the floor like distant thunder.
"These aren't ordinary human machines. This symbol..."
He walked toward a wide display wall filled with old blueprints and schematics—some detailing structures, others showing what could only be Cybertronian parts…parts of him.
"This is Cybertronian tech. Mixed with Earth design. Reverse-engineered, perhaps… or built from memory."
He turned slowly, optics glowing in the low light, resting his gaze on her.
"Your father wasn't just preparing for something. He knew. About us. About me. About what would come. And I think..."
He paused, taking a slow breath—purely symbolic, but deliberate.
"He may have been working with a Prime."
He took a step closer to you, lowering his voice just enough for only her to hear.
"Rosie… your family may have been protecting something far greater than this world ever knew. And now… it's passed to you."
The air between them felt heavier now. Not just from the truth—but from the weight of a legacy reborn.
"We'll face it together. I won't let you face this alone."
They walked between the shelves. Optimus was especially very careful when he took a step in the narrow space. Then at the end of the shelves they saw a big table. Behind that table was a big frame that looked like a map. Rosie took steps closer.
"Witwiccans Order...?" She read it. It written there, like a title above what looks like a family tree
"What is this...? Optimus...?"