The sunlights beam through the windows. Rosie curled up and opened her eyes in an instant. New day, but it carried the weight she never felt before. But she's accepted it now. Because all that happened wasn't a dream, and even the truck called Optimus Prime, where she slept all night to seek refuge and comfort was real.
"Alright, I'm gonna prepare a bit and we will go to the hospital first. I might get fired, because a junior nurse like me asked for leave. But I'll go there to clear things up, then we're gonna discuss what we're gonna do." She said,
Optimus rumbled softly beneath her, his engine waking like a yawn stretched across steel.
"You will not face this alone, Rosamund. If your hospital cannot see the value in your heart, they do not deserve your service." A pause, then with a warmer timbre—"But I will take you. Safely. Swiftly. And, perhaps, in a slightly less... dramatic fashion than last time."
From the side mirror, Mirage's voice cut in over the comms, smug as ever:
"Pfft, yeah, no crashing through buildings or spontaneous window redecorating today, right, Prime?"
"Mirage." The one-word warning from Optimus was the equivalent of a father putting down his newspaper with a look.
"Alright, alright. I'll behave. Probably."
A soft chuckle from Bumblebee crackled in and out, his comms weaving through some 80s sitcom laugh track.
Optimus refocused, his voice directed only to her again—quieter now. "Prepare what you need. I will be waiting."
The sunlight painted his windshield gold, and for a moment, it felt like standing inside a promise. Not just a new day—but a shared one.
She prepared everything. The last thing is she called the repairman to repair her windows that Mirage broke.
She yelled on the phone.
"Alright, I'll transfer now, you just need to replace the glass, what?! Two days? I Don't have two days–so you're in the middle of something. I told you, I'm in the middle of something too–" she's angry, "I'm in the middle of inter galactic war, so I paid you double, I want my windows repaired in 6 hours then you can leave. I need to go somewhere. My friend will be here then. Okay!"
Then she went into the truck.
The driver's door swung open, and as she climbed in, the seat adjusted subtly—Optimus making sure she was comfortable without a word.
"I take it the window situation has escalated to DEFCON 2." His tone was dry, but teasing—an echo of a smirk in mechanical form.
Mirage's voice came in from a distance, muffled but smug:
"Hey, technically, I just startled the glass. The real culprit was gravity."
Optimus ignored him.
He waited until she was settled, then his engine purred softly to life, the cab humming gently around her like a calm heartbeat.
"Six hours... That's quite the negotiation. I admire your strategy. Fierce under pressure."
A quiet pause.
"Though I doubt the repairman believed the 'intergalactic war' part."
Another gentle whir of the engine as he pulled away from the curb.
"Let's get you to the hospital, Rosamund. And when you're ready, we'll face the rest. Together."
Then they went to the hospital. The Autobots parked nicely and she stepped out. Rosie was about to hand a leave letter to the HR, but then she met her colleague from the night shifts.
"Hi Jimmy!" She greeted him. Jimmy having some snack on his hand.
"Ey, Rosie? Wait, are you really gonna leave?" He asked suddenly.
"What?" She asked, nobody supposed to know that she just made the decision this morning.
"Just before I grabbed the snack, a man with a military uniform said that you're gonna leave for a while. He said he's your Godfather. Your dad is in the military right. We thought he's your uncle or something."
That's not good. She doesn't have an uncle or Godfather.
"Uh alright Jimmy I'll check on it." Rosie thinks fast.
"Okay have a nice day." Jimmy walked away, but Rosie quickly walked back to the Autobots when she heard her name being called.
"Rosie!" A heavy baritone voice, that unfamiliar. It must be him, the one who Jimmy said was her Godfather.
Before turning, she glanced at the Autobots, 'Stay still!' muted with her mouth.
Then she turned, facing someone who said that her Godfather. She didn't know him, and she raised her guard. This someone might be a threat. She won't say anything.
The man approaching her was tall—military cut hair, crisp uniform, medals aligned perfectly. But there was something… off. His posture screamed control, but his smile was the kind people wear when they already think they've won. Calculating. Too confident. His boots clicked on the tile floor like a countdown.
"Rosamund Den Riehm," he said, smiling like he knew her entire bloodline, "or should I call you Rosie?" His eyes flickered—not warm, but curious. Predatory.
He held out a hand, like a practiced gesture. "Major Silas Monroe. Old friend of your father. Godfather, in a way. I came to check in on you."
No military ID shown. No badge. No protocol.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rosie could feel the Autobots tensing, even from across the parking lot. Optimus especially. They knew a soldier's gait. They also knew when something walked suspicious.
Silas leaned a little closer. "You've been busy, Rosie. Strange signals, broken windows, and... let's not forget that spike in Cybertronian energy last night. Funny how the government didn't catch it." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"But I did."
Rosie still said nothing.
"Let's go somewhere quiet. We have a lot to talk about."
He reached gently—too gently—for her arm.
In the car he brought her. Behind her, in the reflection of the rearview mirrow, a shimmer of blue metal caught the sunlight.
Optimus. Watching. Ready.
The game was on.
He looked at her his office. In the car that took her she knew that Optimus and the others followed her with a large gap of distance so they wouldn't notice.
He brought her to his office. She feels uneasy entering a military base. Four Autobots followed her and this unknown man pretending to be her Godfather. She hopes wherever the Autobots are. They can hear her. She heard Ratched could scan the entire building. Because if not something could terribly go wrong.
They arrived at the office. Rosie glanced at everything in that room. Air Force. Just like her Dad. Then shook her head to the man.
"Let's get straight, I was your father's disciple. He was my captain in the Air force. You might never know me, or hear me. But your father talked about you a lot. Before he died in his duty. He gave me guardians right to me." He explained.
She is still on guard. She won't talk easily.
"Okay what is this? Am I in trouble? How do you know my windows broke? What do you say before cybertro–what?" She has the skills to lie.
He chuckled.
"Your Dad always said you're kinda dramatic and being an actress suits you well."
"What do you mean?" She is still pretending.
"I know everything about your dad being hidden." His voice is low and cautious.
And so with Rosie, her demeanor changed. Alright acting won't help.
"So? What do you want?" She asked seriously fiercely.
"I need to know everything you know and everything that happened." He asked.
She was still on guard, not believing anything he said except he gave her undeniable proof that he's not a threat for her and the Autobots.
"...and if I don't want to?" She challenges him.
"Then I need to force you for a bit..." He replied.
"Try me, even if you rip my tongue out you won't get anything."
So the psychological war conversation began. It's her battle to win alone. The Autobots remain still outside, scanning, listening, and commenting about what Rosie faced inside the building. Ready if anything happened.
[Inside the military office – tension brewing like a ticking bomb.]
Major Silas Monroe's smile faltered for the first time.
"You're brave. Just like him," he said, voice low, like a threat wrapped in praise. "Your father once told me you were born with a spine of titanium. I didn't realize he meant it literally." His eyes narrowed.
Rosie didn't flinch. Not this time. She might be alone in the room, but she wasn't alone. Not anymore.
[Outside – Autobot Comms Channel: Encrypted and live.]
Ratchet (gruff, analytical): "I've got a full scan of the facility. Nothing immediately hostile—yet. But the entire east wing has reinforced doors. This place is built for lockdowns."
Mirage (sharp, amused): "Wanna bet they think they can contain us in a building? I'll ghost through those walls if they lay a hand on her."
Bumblebee (through radio beeps, translated by Optimus): "Let's just blow the whole damn building."
Optimus Prime (calm, resolute):
"We do not escalate unless provoked. But stay ready. If she calls, we move."
[Back inside]
She tilted her head, eyes steady on Monroe. "You're afraid of them, aren't you? The Cybertronians. That's why you're here sniffing around. Not because you care. Because you're scared."
He paced slowly, arms behind his back. "I'm not afraid. I'm prepared. The government may not act yet—but I will. You don't understand what you've been pulled into. These... things... have torn planets apart. You think Earth's special? It's just next on the list."
"Wrong," Rosie said sharply, standing. "It's the only one that matters now. And we're not next. We're ready."
Monroe stepped closer.
"If you don't work with me, you're compromising Earth's safety. I will consider you a liability."
She didn't step back. "Then go ahead, Major. Call me a liability. But remember this—liabilities can bite."
[Outside – Optimus' optics narrow.]
"She's holding. But his tone's shifting. Mirage, prepare for extraction. Ratchet, monitor vitals. Bumblebee…"
Bee (cheeky radio beep): "Bring the noise?"
Optimus (a low growl of agreement): "Only if she says the word."
—
CHAPTER 13 : LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER
Inside that room, it was silent and still. But Rosie? She wasn't breaking.
She just needed to outlast him. Long enough for the tides to shift. Long enough for Prime's voice to reach her ear, and remind her she wasn't standing on this battlefield alone.
And the clock... was ticking.
"Go on, without my knowledge you won't get anything and all the things you prepared will be in vain." She doesn't back down.
Major Monroe, stared at her long enough until he said,
"Amazing, you're really Captain's daughter." He seems more relaxed than before.
"I know you'll be like this, and I'm proud of it. He said when the time comes, even if it's her daughter I need to make sure, where is your loyalty, and you impressed me child." Rosie didn't understand.
Then he walked to a safe box, opened it and took a cassette from it. He played it on this old TV screen.
It shows her father. Captain Andreas Den Riehm.
"Dad..." she mumbled.
"Silas, if you watch this, I must be dead, and I left my daughter alone. I trained you and now I'm gonna trust my daughter and Den Riehm history to you. Den Riehm and any other family in this document that I'll hand to you is top secret, no government must know because if it falls to the wrong hand, it might be doom for us. I trust you and I hope you won't betray me, because if you did, my connection all over the world will come after you." The video stopped.
"See? Even after he died he'd make sure I won't betray him. Like you did before to make sure of my loyalty. Like father, like daughter." He said with laughter.
"I learned everything about your family and the rest of Witwiccans Order for centuries. Now I keep them too. Your father even gave me the list of the rest of the Witwiccans descendants who's in charge of every state agency. To help when the time comes." He said.
"And what I mean is the time, I think, is already here."
Rosie is still listening.
"Before his last duty, your father also gave me this." He handed her a little box that looked like a machine or something. Old machine.
"He said, you know when the time comes when this box is gleaming energy from the inside and I have to find you. Last night this box that I kept for 21 years was gleaming for the first time. It's like emitting some electric shock, and I know I have to find you."
[Inside the dim-lit office – silence wraps the room like a heavy shroud as the old screen goes dark.]
Rosie held her breath.
Her father's voice still echoed in her ears, like a phantom reaching across time and space.
She slowly took the box from Monroe's hands, her fingers brushing the edges, feeling the faint pulse from within. It was warm. Alive.
And it recognized her.
Her eyes flicked up to Monroe—sharpened, still skeptical but no longer hostile.
"…Why didn't you come sooner?" her voice cracked, but her jaw stayed clenched. "You kept this up all these years. Why now?"
Monroe didn't flinch. "Because your father asked me to wait. To stay hidden. He said you needed to be raised as normal as possible, away from shadows. But if that box lit up—if the Spark inside awakened—it meant the war is near. That's my cue to act. And yours."
Rosie turned her gaze to the box again. That spark. Was it a relic? A message? A dormant artifact waiting for her?
[Outside – Comms Channel.]
Ratchet: "That box. It's... not Cybertronian tech, not fully. But it's reacting to the frequency of the Matrix itself."
Mirage: "Wait, what? So she's literally got a piece of Cybertron in her purse now?"
Bee: (sassy beep)
Optimus (deep, thoughtful):
"It is a beacon. A fusion. Ancient Earth lineage, empowered by Cybertronian essence. Alpha Trion spoke of such a thing once. A Spark that bridges worlds."
Ratchet: "And it's keyed to her biology. Only her. No one else."
[Back inside – Rosie, gripping the box tighter now.]
Rosie stood, the sunlight catching the edge of the box as it shimmered faintly.
She stared at the man who claimed to protect her. Who might still have hidden cards up his sleeve.
But right now? She didn't feel alone.
Because her father had left her a message.
Because Optimus was listening, waiting.
And because the war wasn't just coming—it was already here.
"Then I guess it's time to find out what my father left for me."
She turned to leave, her footsteps echoing with new purpose.
[Outside – Optimus, as Rosie approaches.]
She stepped forward as the building's doors slid open and sunlight cast her silhouette before him. Rosie gets back alone. Major Monroe didn't come with her. But Rosie came back with information and new allies.
She stepped in.
"Major Silas is really my father's disciples. He's not a threat, because my father makes sure the other Witwiccans descendants will catch him...hm I never knew my father was this fierce..."
Optimus turned as she entered, the golden rays of sunlight cutting across the floor and framing her like she'd just stepped from a battlefield—not of weapons, but of truths.
"Your father was a warrior of conviction," he said, voice low, calm. "And clearly, that legacy did not end with him."
Bee chirped approvingly, while Mirage leaned casually against the wall with crossed arms, a teasing smirk growing.
"So Major Military Man is on our side, huh? You sure? He didn't try to implant you with a tracker or hypnotize you with top-secret dad speeches?"
Rosie shot him a look.
"No, but he gave me a box that hums like a toaster, so that's something." She raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry, I didn't bite it."
Mirage raised both hands, chuckling.
"Alright, alright—just checking. You're starting to look all mysterious and chosen-one-ish, and I gotta keep the balance in this room."
Ratchet scanned her subtly from where he stood.
"No anomalies. Heart rate elevated, but that's normal for someone burdened with destiny."
Optimus stepped closer, optics focused on the box she now carried.
"What you hold may be the very spark Alpha Trion spoke of. You were never meant to run from this path, Rosie. You were always meant to lead us down it."
Then softer, quieter—just for her:
"I know this weight is great. But you don't carry it alone."
The warmth in his voice lingered, like a protective shield wrapping gently around her.
"Now tell us… what did your father leave behind?"
"Connections. Connections to the rest of Witwiccans descendants that were implanted to state agencies. Witwiccans kept all these secrets all this time because they know if cybertronians' knowledge and technology to the human world might become a double sword."
"But all Witwiccans descendants have been told about this through generations so they're prepared for when the time comes." She said. 'Get ready guys, we'll go to NASA based. Major Monroe won't coming with us, but he gave a name. Agatha Catwright. Senior Staff Of Space Activity Division. When we get our answers, Major Monroe will be ready with the Air Force."
Optimus Prime's optics narrowed with solemn understanding. He nodded once, the kind of nod that carried the weight of centuries of war—and hope.
"Then we move swiftly… and carefully." His tone deepened, steady. "Agatha Cartwright. NASA. We'll make contact, assess if she's truly one of the Witwiccan guardians."
Mirage whistled low.
"NASA, huh? Finally—somewhere with ceilings high enough for my style."
Bee beeped a few notes from the radio—something about "Rocket Man"—earning a light laugh from Ratchet, who immediately tried to hide it under a huff.
"If she's truly aware, she'll know the consequences of revealing any of this prematurely," Ratchet added. "But if she's unaware or compromised…"
Optimus finished the thought with gravitas:
"Then we tread with caution. Rosie, I trust your judgment. These names, these allies... your father planted the seeds long ago. We'll follow them, and you."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough so only she could hear.
"You may have been born among humans, Rosie. But in every trial you've faced, you've stood like a Prime." A pause. "I will follow your lead."
Outside, the Autobots began to drive, their engines warming like ancient titans waking from slumber. Mirage opened the door for her with a wink.
"NASA or bust, Rosie. Let's find out what the stars have been hiding."