FUCK YOU

— Blurr typically works alone, Autobot Intelligence Officer and all that but unfortunately for him, it was mandate to have partner as an aid or back up. Even worse, it was High Command who would directly chose who his 'backup' would be which meant he has no say in the decision whatsoever.

— When he meets you, its... not a good impression. He immediately picks up how you struggle with how fast he talks and boy, it is frustrating for him to talk to you. He tries, he tries so hard for him to go as slow as he can when trying to convey information to you (its actually still pretty fast), he's even willing to repeat it for you— Which is something he usually never does but even then, you'll be at your fifth "...huh?". Blurr is so close to just smacking you, he swears it.

— Blurr lives in a fast paced world. Time, for him, moves slower than it would for a normal bot because of his speedster ability. So he can be impatient, rash & easily agitated sometimes when things don't go in a faster pace. And you clearly cannot move with the program!

— Blurr has no idea how you ended up in Autobot Intelligence to be frank. Your processing time is an affront to all Autobot microcontroller processing chips, you speak slow too... or worse, you end up distracted! He always has to bring you back to the current moment. It gets annoying. You're here with him on a mission spark damn it!

— But as the two of you work on more cases, more missions, he realizes that you're the way you are not because your processing chips might've been manufactured during the Protectorbots but because you're patient. You look at every single detail & angle, drawing up conclusions and possibilities he would've never thought of. Blurr tends to take things with a more... face-value assessment but you? You're speculative. You're distracted by your thoughts often, sure but your biggest strength is that you think more than him.

— You pay attention to detail surprisingly enough, details which he would've skimmed over. Blurr despite the intial impression, you were clearly an intelligence agent for a reason. Running countless simulations in your helm to come up with possibilities & speculate outcomes, of course something like that takes time & careful thinking. He's a bit surprised at how... often he skims over some important parts or fails to consider an alternative. You've made him kind of self-aware in a way.

— The steadiness feels soothing, he's always gone fast but you've showed him how to take it a bit slow for once. You're one of the most relaxing bots he's ever been around, he won't deny that. You're patient, incredibly so. You don't get annoyed at his restlessness or his fast talking. He likes that.

— And he likes you a bit more... he has that strange fluttering in his chassis when you speak, its soothing; calm & peaceful. He finds himself keenly listening to every drawn out syllable from your vocalizer and time seemed to move even slower. You'd talk about your findings, conclusions, speculations and sometimes even wander off from the subject at hand but Blurr actually kind of... liked you speaking? It was strange to him. He never thought he'd find himself wanting to hear someone speak.

— He shows his interest in an... odd way, to say the least. Usually by scolding you if you're not taking care of yourself or giving you a mug of energon and emphasising the need to stay well-fueled always. Blurr's affection is his care.

— Blurr is fast, he lives a fast paced life so it's no wonder that his opinion of you did a 180⁰ quicker than you'd think. A few missions in and he realizes what exactly it is that he feels for you and boy, oh boy, he is going through with it.

— Blurr acts... a bit strange around you? Its not very obvious but he's talking a bit quicker than usual and you can't understand a bit of it. You've given up on asking him to repeat himself and just nod as of you get it.

"AHEM." Blurr catches your attention as you're snapped out of your day-dreaming, you look so lost. Definitely startled you. You look kind of cute when you look so startled? It makes his spark stutter again.

"Hey, Blurr." You greet him, wondering why he's at your workstation. The two of you have collected a lot of evidence about the possible infiltration case the two of you have been working on together. But instead of a 'Hi' or a 'How are you?', Blurr hits you with the:

"SoIwaswonderingifyoucouldsparesometimetohangoutasfriendsoncewe'redonewiththismissionandItotallymeanitcompletelyinafriendshipway! Donothaveanyideasandgetittwisted!!!"

Blurr's rambling to you is incoherent, all that noise was almost like a blip in your audios at best, like a blurry image speeding past you except its sound. You look as clueless as ever; everytime you tell yourself that you've managed to catch up with his fast-talking, he proves you wrong by going even faster. You nod and hope that he doesn't realize the fact that you have absolutely no idea what he just said.

"Sure... just.. uh-"

"MARVELLOUS!" He dashes away from you, leaving you all the more confused.

That guy...

— Blurr gets nervous, especially when it comes to this whole love thing and when he does, he's even more restless; he's speaking even faster & his pedes are rapidly tapping against the floor. You maybe a bit of a dreamer and more of a steady bot but you weren't dense! You could tell he was getting nervous around you for some reason... and you two were hanging out a lot more than usually. Funny how you went from 'co-worker I dont really like' to """"bffs"""".

— And so, when you approach him about it... For the first time, you saw Blurr freeze. Unable to really come up with a response for once. Even if it were just for a slim moment.

"Well," Blurr can't believe he's stumbling over his words like this, his processor moving faster than his frame for once. Its so new, so strange. He hates looking like a fool, prim & proper agent being so fussy over romance of all things... But that look you're giving him is not helping at all, optical ridges furrowed with a questioning look.

"I may or may not be... undeniably, irrevocably in... in love with... you."

Your blue optics shoot wide, definitely startled by that revelation. That was the only time he had ever spoken with a slower pace than usual. You open your intake to say something, trying to find the words.

"IknowyouneedsometimetoprocessthissoIamnotexpectinganimmediateanswertomyconfessionbutIjustwantyoutoknowthatIfeelthiswayforyouandthat-"

"I'd like to be with you." You shushed him by putting your servo over his intake.

Now its Blurr's turn to go quiet. He didn't expect an answer so quick from you given you're the type to take your time and truly assess what's infront of you before jumping in. But he can see the honesty in your optics, that you truly mean what you say.

— Now, are intelligent agents allowed to have dating lives or even date each other? Neither of you know but as far as you're considered, you don't really care about it.

— Blurr won't outright say it but he loves it when you shut him up, preferably with a kiss. He'll be rambling on about something, just kiss him and he'll shut up. He's smitten.

— He definitely does pout sometimes when you get a bit critical about him. Blurr does have a bit of an ego, stroke it and he'll hold his helm high.

— Blurr does not get flustered by your flirts (if you try flirting with him), he's either matching your energy or he's just going to smile and go "I honestly thought you'd have one better" (something along those lines).

— The two of you are pretty close with the Head of Cybertron Intelligence :)

Megatron.

Megatron would hold your helm against his chassis, swaying slowly back and forth on his pedes as he hummed a nameless tune as his clawed digits gently combed over your helm and down your back. Sometimes pulling back to check on you with half-lid optics before pulling you back close and squeezing you against his frame. Sometimes having days of restless nights. He would stand at the command center and dissociate long enough he forgets he is even alive or a warlord at the moment. Feeling the need to hold someone close in these moments. Starved of it. Alone. Hungry for an anchor in his episodes.

You can hear his spark and dark energon in his spark chamber. The soft hum of his life force and the whirr of the crystal doing its magic...more like hex. Even the vibrations of his voice echoed inside whenever he opens his intake to speak or a sharp vent when he senses a shift or recalls something.

Sometimes he would hold you close possessively for some source of warmth or intimidation of being able to pull someone...even though he's not interested in getting a loved one due to how insane he is, possibly...which you can see when he has his moments.

He may or may not mind being held by you. Being quite aloof at first as he leans away like the disgruntled cat he is. He'll fall asleep later in your embrace. Face against where your shoulder and neck meet while his denta presses aginst the material there. Or snuggling his face and helm into your abdomen/flank like a snake burrowing itself into sand before giving up and just lying there. Still as a statue. You thought he was dead for a few seconds and would shake him lightly for a response. Only to get a grumble or nip.

You were often alone. Sometimes hiding away in the higher ranks' rooms to get away from newbies since they stress you enough to a sparkattack and would like some alone time. But not completely alone. Megatron refuses to sleep in the dead of night when 80% of the planet is asleep.

He is a little sleepie wheepie. He's old. What else is he supposed to do? Yell at other ships for getting too close and flying on his air lawn at 2 in the afternoon after inhaling a big 'ol meal?

Starscream.

Starscream would wrap his arms around your waist, one servo holding his limp arm like a belt, face in your back as he murmured nonsense. Often hugging your neck and petting your head like an evil villain if you are seated or lying down. Knee/s up against your shoulder or upper back for some more contact. Preening or grooming you is part of his nature as a seeker. He's a bit scrawny, yes. But he's got a vice of a hold with those claws, even if you get up to do something or shake him off. You're stuck with the velcro cat bird until his high-heeled struts touch the ground again. All while that is happening, he'll maybe chirp at you to let him down. (He'll still hold on if you did-)

He just wants someone to keep company with, often hanging by you since you are RBF as a decepticon and don't care if he jumps on you and just perches there. (I see him having more animal-like legs to land safely as a seeker...like this) Watching your everymove before hopping off and going elsewhere. Have wings? He'll lightly pull or preen them to get your attention to talk or vent. He has lost his trine members, so he imprints you as one. Being quite scrawny, he gets benefits from your frame's heat and some security, making his wings not so shaky.

You'd hold him on your lap, arm wrapped around him like a protective cradle as he yawns every so often before falling asleep. Servo against his side to keep him there, thumb rubbing his hip to keep the poor thing calm. Sitting on your forearm like the princess he is, his servo on your shoulder while his legs are tucked against your chassis. His body leaning against yours as he watches your face. He enjoys being held like a sparkling as well. His wings making his back hurt enough he has to be hunched over to bear it.

Holding him helps calm both of you down. Not being quite a social creature yourself, he visits you often to check if you're dead or still available to talk to. If not, he hangs by where you're often at or where you'll be most likely on the Nemesis. He is content with you. Watching you like a sparkling before returning to his stoic, egotistical state when you glance over to him. His presence kept you at peace and not completely alone when everyone kept bay of you.

He just needs someone to hold him; all he ever got before you came along was the physical and mental abuse from Megatron. Leaving wounds in his wings and frame when the warlord takes his anger out on the poor seeker. (He kinda deserves it...he keeps betraying Megatron and failing. Many. Many times.) Now, having someone who doesn't mind him being around, accepting his existence when he passes by.

Soundwave.

Soundwave's arms are a little awkward as they are built like solar panels with joints and 4 digits. So he holds you with his tentacles instead, close to his body and frame. Being quite gentle with them as he works or wanders around with his slow pace down the halls. (Which you can see in TFP: THIRST S3.E8 when he walks around.) Shifting them slowly or slightly to check for injury or for your comfort, sometimes even holding you as you sleep, sometimes even tipping you upside down in a playful manner to tease you before tipping you back downside up. He might even just drape his arms over your shoulders and lean against you from behind if you are sitting.

Lazerbeak would lock onto you like how he holds onto Soundwave, enjoying the feeling of your servo against his back when you lean/bend over to pick something up or get a better look. Giving him a sense of security.

He's content with you not being as loud as others. With Starscream's screeching and Megatron's outbursts for dark energon as he slowly loses his mind to it...you're the questest in the whole Base. He often has to look over his shoulder to see if you're there or not when he senses your energy signal, since your pedes don't make much noise for your size.

Lazerbeak feels at peace between you two, feeling both your spark beats remind him that they're not fully alone as it always feels. Even in a room full of Decepticons in a meeting...he still feels like it's just him and Soundwave against the galaxy since the loss of the rest of his siblings.

Soundwave won't mind being held by you, being almost as loose as a doll in your servos while you carry him around like a beloved stuffed toy with its kid, even though he does 90% of the ship's work and Starscream's vent dumptersite, it's worth his time with you due to your anxious nature, making you quite socially withdrawn from everyone...thus people forgetting who "Spectaor" is and a rise of worry if they're some overpowered Decepticon that has a rank higher than Megatron's during attendance. But no, it's just little 'ol you hiding from view...behind some larger mech.

Lazerbeak likes being held in the palm of your servo, holding him close like a little birdie against your chassis/collarbone. Enjoying the sensation of your digits over his frame as he settles down against you comfortably. Feeling quite safe and watched over.

Soundwave and Laserbeak just need to be held; both of them need it as the possible outcasts of the nemesis, given their quiet nature. Even with Soundwave's alenish frame. He doesn't frighten you as badly as others. Laserbeak just hops at you like a bat if you're working on the floor for your attention if Soundwave is busy and he's hungi.

Shockwave.

Onto the shoulder you go. Shockwave only has one limb left, while the other is a bioweapon. Though his servo will hold you by your thigh/hip if you're on his right shoulder and he's on the go. On his left? You'll be held like a kid on their parents' hip. He's fine with you sitting on his cannon arm...maybe even sitting on the chain thing linked to his cannon and frame like a swing? HMMMM-

He doesn't mind carrying you around, as you are his assistant and stayed behind when the incident happened. Causing him to lose his sight temporarily and be abandoned with you at the old Decepticon base on Cybertron. Keeping him company as someone he can trust. So its loggical as you are light and fast enough to hop off and protect him when his guard is down or has his back turned. It also seems to keep Starscream at bay from approaching him while he is busy. He's seen you pounce on the poor seeker before due to getting too close to something weak and vital.

Okay. I don't know how you would hold him. But you can wrap your arms around his cannon arm or torso and just stay there. Quietly swaying back and forth...and maybe you can hear his engine purr if you're close enough. His emotions might be suppressed/erased, but it's not 100%. He'll maybe rest his servo on your lower back as he reads the screen. Only pulling away to scroll down and resume.

You enjoy being close to him as he hasn't pushed you away like everyone else in their weakest moments, as they view you as a threat in your territorial and snappy nature. Thinking you might turn it against them when they resist or react to pain from you as a medic tending to them. It makes you feel less lonely and looked over.

Shockwave is just a big, emotionless mech who sometimes needs company as a big boy. Being able to tolerate your personality and keep you around enough to be able to protect him from smaller threats and distractions. He seems like he would lay his helm on your shoulder if you're high enough.

Breakdown.

Bear hug from behind. You're now his teddy to show off. Of course, you'd fight against it a bit and demand to be put back down, but later would stare at him with wide optics when he does. Why? Who knows. At first, no one respects your space and ignores you, which causes you to snap easily and pick fights with whoever is bigger than you. Even Megatron himself, and sometimes Shockwave, whenever they lift their servo to get your attention when you zone out. So Breakdown takes a gentle approach when trying to make conversation when he noticed the first few times of it happening. Simply by wrapping an arm around your shoulders with an open servo to show nothing is in there to harm you. Giving you a smile when you look up, before letting his face rest again. He'll let go when you tell him to or lean away. Breakdown will pull others off you when they try to force you to have some physical contact or fight you for no reason at all. Which has shown improvement over time, making you much less spooky, and finally give yourself some self-respect when someone is being a jerk and tries to push you over. If it doesn't work? He comes in.

He likes your presence and your new fiery personality. Sometimes teasing you when you blow up on someone crossing boundaries or attempting to beat you up. All you need is some TLC like a stray cat from a neglectful household wondering around for food. It's like you're his little aloof sibling with a no bark but bark personality.

He's a bit aloof on being held. Though, big boosms will rest his helm on top of yours. His servo on your shoulder as he listened to you ramble if you're being stationary at the moment.

You don't mind him there. If anything, he is quite a chill guy that has the personality of a tank recarnated as a dog with a big heart. He sometimes will lightly headbutt his helm against your shoulder like a cat. (Look at his helm and you'll see what I mean.)

Breakdown is like the cool older brother that doesn't say much but does a ton for his younger ones. He doesn't mind you that much and sees you as his little shadow at times in missions.

Knock Out.

Bridle style it is, Knock Out would tease and fuss with you, holding you close to his chassis as he held you. Being quite gentle as he lightly swayed you back and forth. He would hold you with just one arm on his side when taking you around. Sometimes teasing you to see your flustered expression. Even presenting you like some stuffie to Breakdown...and as a joke, showed you off to Megatron...and that's how you got confiscated for an hour break away from Knock Out while he begged to have his "child" back, or whatever that means. Having grown attached to you and your presence like your his little one to care for. Who wouldn't?

He enjoys your company, sometimes pampering you like his own kin before putting you back where you were before like nothing happened. Patting your helm and strutting away with a story to tell Breakdown, or someone else, for fun. Before coming back with something soft, like a blanket, to bundle you up in and put you down to recharge.

He won't mind his servo being held, or his leg. You're semi-short. But you sometimes remind him of an anxious mech that doesn't want to see the new femme at school. You also would hold onto his digits as he walked around the base.

You don't often mind him, though you would put up a fight when he picks you up before calming down again. He's like a teasing father figure. Often checking on you before walking away and chirping at Breakdown with his mission stories or medical intel..

Dreadwing.

Over the shoulder you go. It's faster and quicker to move you around if needed so that your recklessness doesn't kill you for disloyalty against anyone who dosent respect you and be why you die. Sometimes placing his servo on your pede to keep you still from fighting. Only if it was that easy. He'll hold your shoulder to keep you in place when lined up or being checked over by a docter and medic. Knowing you're not quite fond of them due to having been forced into restaints as they can yell at you to calm down.

You're great company, though a little loud. He dosent mind you being around in his ship, mostly keeping you strapped in so you don't pounce through the wall at the sight of an Autobot ship a light year away...if you can even see that far. Which can be helpful at times to keep him on his toes(?) and keep his mind off some things. Even allowing you to stay by his side on missions and meetings.

The headlock it is. He doesn't mind it. Though, he will warn you to loosen up a bit so that you're not cutting the energon flow to his proccecer. He will lean into your hold if he needs a nap and is witting down. (He seems like he needs it.) He dosent mind being held, as long as you're safe he's fine with it...until you go for the waist and you're giving him a death grip.

You like being around him. He keeps you in check and dosen't let you get killed or nerfed in someway possible in battle, and has the strength needed to keep you down since you just go in headfirst into things and can't pull yourself out.

Dreadwing is just a watcher byer, observing you from time to time to make sure you haven't killed yourself yet and might need something. It's a good dynamic between the two, a disgruntled old dad and a hyper spawn from Primus knows where. He just needs a kid's leash on you and he's set. It'd be easier.

Skyquake.

Under the arm you go. Now you can stop running away like he's gonna kill you even though you're tall enough to crush his olive aft- He dosen't get it often why you're to skittish, He'll even hold you between his legs (No...not like that...Go to horni jail-) as he preens you from anything stuck to your frame, one arm around you as he peels away some sort of plant matter growing on you. Not bothering to even clean your own frame from how stressed you are. Needing to be held like a sparkling so that they can stop running. Like a giant canine that thinks it's a lap dog.

He cares about you. All you need is some TLC for your frame to be in good shape before he'll let you run away. He likes being around you despite yourself being a bit shy from opticcontact, he won't mind wrapping his arm around you if needed to have some sort of anchor.

You'll hold him like he's your security blanket/teddy on your lap or on your side, seeking some sort of warmth and security in your darkest. Which leads to him having to let you sleep in his lap like a ball when needing to recharge due to fear of being offline by something he can't see tiring you out more than anyone. He won't mind being hugged from behind, just don't apply too much pressure on his wings.

You need his presence. You need it as much as energon. He keeps you well cared for and loved. Sure, Skyquake might seem a bit more of a brute than Dreadwing, but that's just his personality, as he values horner and loyalty as much as his twin. He cares if you're injured or not.

Finding themselves in another universe was decidedly out of the ordinary, even by the standards of the Lost Light. After everything they'd faced and seen—vanished civilizations, Decepticons reborn as saints, a pacifist Megatron—this seemed like just another addition to the long list of 'Things we thought impossible, but happened anyway.'

After all, when had they ever stuck to anything ordinary? Aboard that ship, fate had developed a habit of delivering at least one catastrophe a day. Was this the result of Rodimus' chaotic leadership? Probably. But fortunately, Ultra Magnus and Drift were there to 'hold the pieces together with duct tape and a ton of regulations,' as some among the crew quipped.

What was irreparable, however, were the losses. Too many faces that didn't add up, too many betrayals etched like scars in the memories of those left behind. It all started that day. After the death of Optimus Prime.

That designation continued to echo, heavy as the burden of an entire galaxy. The Prime. The one who had managed to earn the respect even of his adversaries. Sitting in the command post, Rodimus drummed his digits nervously on the armrest while absentmindedly chewing an energon goodie, lost in thought. 'Someday I want to be like him. But the more I try, the more impossible it seems…'

A sudden sound brought him back to reality. "Rodimus."

Ultra Magnus's determined voice called him back. The silence of the deep cosmos enveloped them as the Lost Light moved at cruising speed; their mission seemed complete: Phase Sixers eliminated, Cybertron at peace. And yet…

"We've intercepted a distress call."

Rodimus didn't falter for a moment. "We're taking action."

Drift advanced slowly, his blades clinking lightly behind him. "Rodimus," he began gravely, "the call is coming from a multidimensional rift."

The atmosphere on the bridge became tense, almost electric. Even the constant hum of the ship's systems seemed to have died down, waiting for a response. Rodimus remained silent for a few moments, drumming his digits nervously before glancing resolutely at everyone.

"A distress call is a distress call." He finally broke the silence, his vocalizer surprisingly steady. "It doesn't matter where it comes from." He paused briefly, then added with a tired smile that failed to hide the uneasiness in his optics, "And anyway, when did we ever choose the safe route?"

Drift stared at him, his arms crossed and his gaze twisted with doubt. "Rodimus, this time is different. Dimensional tears don't follow the same rules as quantum jumps. We could be dealing with something completely—"

"We could also be dealing with someone who needs our help," Rodimus interrupted decisively, rising from his seat. "And we are Autobots. Helping isn't just what we do; it's who we are."

Ultra Magnus sighed, the sound of his vocalizer accompanied by a faint crackle of static. "Regulation 17-B, Section 4, Subsection…"

"Magnus, please, let's forget the rules for once." Rodimus ran a servo over his faceplate, the weight of exhaustion sagging his shoulders. "We've seen enough horrors in this war. If there's even a chance to do the right thing, we must take it."

In the control room, the distress signal continued to flash on the main monitor, its intermittent rhythm like a heartbeat on the verge of dying. The coordinates pointed to a precise destination: a dimensional rift that loomed on the screen like an abyss of unstable energy, a gaping wound in the fabric of reality itself.

"Start the engines." Rodimus's command rang out firmly as he turned to the crew. "Plot a course for those coordinates. And… let's prepare for whatever lies ahead."

The Lost Light slowly rotated, pointing its bow toward the dimensional rift. Rodimus seethed with uneasiness; he couldn't shake the thought of who or what might be on the other side.

When they arrived at their destination, the scene that greeted them was far from comfortable. Everything was eerily reminiscent of Garrus-9: the same twisted rock formations, the same canyons carved by the relentless winds of the cosmos. But everything was pervaded by death. No artificial light to illuminate the darkness, no trace of life energy. Only battered structures and battle scars etched into the planetary crust like deep claw wounds.

"It's as if someone took Garrus-9 and drained every last drop of life from him."

Drift advanced cautiously across this familiar yet unrecognizable terrain, his trusty blades emitting an unsettling resonance. "He's not just abandoned here… he's been desecrated."

Rodimus remained silent, his gaze fixed on a distant feature: a broken tower rising against the sky like a silent accusation. It had once been a maximum-security prison. Now there was no trace of the cells, nor of the imposing defenses. Only metal hulks and melted debris bore witness to what had happened.

Ultra Magnus broke the silence with his firm tone. "Scans complete. No lifeforms identified, however…" His vocalizer stopped abruptly as his circuits began to process something unexpected.

"What, 'however'?" Rodimus asked, his gaze alert and penetrating.

"There's an energy signature," Magnus replied, his vocalizer laced with a strange hesitation.

Fortress Maximus intervened with his usual authority. "What does that mean, exactly?" he asked, disrupting the fragile balance of the conversation. The giant Titan-class mech, always prepared for any eventuality, had already activated every weapon system before abandoning the Lost Light. The ominous hum of its weapons echoed in the void like a warning signal.

Garrus-9.

The mere name of the mech brought back moments of torment. Buried memories resurfaced for a violent instant, but Fort Max, with a deliberate effort, bent those emotional impulses under the weight of logic. One can never be too careful, he told himself, as he scanned the bleak landscape. His optics shone like searchlights, ready to capture any hidden threat.

"It's Cybertronian energy," Ultra Magnus clarified, his analysis precise but tinged with puzzlement. "However, something isn't right… there are anomalies I've never seen before."

Fort Max was silent for a moment before giving a slow nod of understanding.

A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the wind whistling through the ruins like a wail. The four of them turned their audials up to maximum sensitivity, ready to pick up even the slightest rustle amid the surrounding desolation.

Drift was the first to break the palpable tension, his blades already drawn and ready for use. "I don't like this place at all," he said, giving voice to the sense of unease the others preferred to suppress.

They didn't even have time to respond when a dissonant vibration suddenly rippled through the ground beneath them. The group reacted instinctively, every metal fiber in their bodies springing to attention.

Fortress Maximus was the quickest. His weapons automatically reoriented, snapping into position with the precision of a killing machine. His rifle emitted a menacing buzz, already configured for the fearsome maximum lethality mode.

"Someone is approaching," Drift whispered as he tightened his grip on his twin blades, synchronized to the frantic rhythm of the pulses in his circuits. His optics narrowed, he scanned the horizon like a predator awaiting prey.

Rodimus raised his pistol, but the usual sarcasm that characterized his comments had evaporated, giving way to a tense, unironic grin. "Friend or foe?"

Ultra Magnus preferred not to waste unnecessary words. The metal of his weapon made a cold click as he prepared to fire.

"Friend."

A single word. Cold. Yet laden with a weight that made their circuits tremble more than any battle cry could.

Weapons still raised with steady, attentive hands, they slowly turned toward the source of the noise, ready to discover what had alerted them. What they saw left them breathless.

Behind them loomed the imposing figure of a Phase Sixer… but they looked nothing like the ones they had known in their old battles.

Your armor, once a shining symbol of invulnerability and supreme strength, now bore the unmistakable marks of centuries of battle and suffering:

Chipped, like glass cracked by a myriad of blows, it even bore visible etchings in the smallest details, as if cosmic entities had tried in vain to strip it of its essence.

And finally, it was faded, its paint worn by time, and it spoke of incessant battles, fought with obstinacy.

But it was your optics that captured their full attention:

Completely dull and lifeless, they were a dull shell that expressed only bewilderment. They should have embodied the flame that once burned tirelessly, but now there remained nothing but ashes.

The long scar that ran across your metal cheek seemed to etch not only your faceplate, but your very core, a silent reminder of past battles.

And finally, what truly shocked them: the Autobot emblems etched into your metal arms. Still clearly visible, those symbols were charged with memories, tangible representations of a loyalty that would proudly display before anyone's optics.

A Phase Sixer Autobot?

Was it really possible?!

Rodimus felt a slight tremor in the servo holding the pistol. No one had ever mentioned the existence of a Phase Sixer among their ranks. It defied all logic, every tale they knew…

Ultra Magnus was the first to break the silence of waiting, speaking in a deep, firm vocalizer: "Identify yourself." The tone was as cold as tempered metal, but a faint tremor betrayed his caution.

You didn't respond immediately. When he finally spoke, your vocalizer echoed like distant, slow thunder:

"I am the one who sent the signal."

Rodimus crossed his arms, but without loosening his grip on his gun. "What is… the reason for your emergency message?"

A deep sound, like a sigh distorted by a malfunctioning vocalizer, emanated from the colossal individual.

"My universe…"

Your vocalizer trailed off, leaving a void hanging in the air. Your servos clenched into fists and then slowly relaxed, as if struggling to formulate your thoughts.

"It's slowly dying…"

Fortress Maximus snapped to attention. "What do you mean?"

"As if reality itself were crumbling," you explained, your bright optics pulsing faintly with a hint of despair. "It's as if the fabric of the multiverse has been torn, dragging fragments from other dimensions into the void. I… I believe I'm among the last survivors. When I sent the signal, only you responded."

Rodimus frowned, confused and disturbed. It was difficult for him to comprehend the scope of such a tragedy.

"Wait… you mean your entire universe is… about to collapse?" he asked, almost a whisper choked with disbelief.

A slow, resigned nod of your helmet was the answer. Accompanied by your gaze, now tired and dull for decades.

Drift turned to Rodimus, concern etched into the features of the faceplate. "If what he says is true… it could put all the multiverses at risk, including ours."

Ultra Magnus finally lowered his weapon, but his tone was still as sharp as a blade. "We cannot afford to let our guard down… not in the presence of a Phase Sixer." His sensors carefully scanned your hulking form before him. "Not especially when Phase Sixers and Autobots have never been synonymous."

In response, you let out a broken laugh, laced with bitterness and exhaustion. "In your universe, perhaps. But in mine… things are different. We were created as a last resort to fight the Phase Sixer Decepticons.

You raised a massive arm, displaying the worn Autobot crest, barely visible amid the scars of countless battles. Your optics then lowered to the damaged servos, the trembling digits still bearing the weight of painful memories.

"In my world, the Autobots also developed a Phase Sixer program as a last resort," you continued, your vocalizer heavy and tinged with pain. "For a time… it worked. We were used to counter the advancing Decepticons and their own Phase Sixers. We fought with every fiber of our being to protect vulnerable planets…"

Another pause. The vocalizer produced a faint crackle of static—a sound like a sob being held back.

"… until the day they took away what I loved most."

Your dull optics settled on Fortress Maximus with agonizing intensity, as if each resurfacing memory inflicted a new wound.

"My Fortress Maximus. He was struck down by an enemy Phase Sixer during the siege of Crystal City. I… I didn't see him fall. But I felt the bond between us fading, his life signal dissolving in my connections."

With a slightly trembling servo, you touched the scar on your faceplate, an instinctive gesture, as if that memory still burned beneath the surface of his armor.

"When I returned to the field… there was nothing left to bury. Only his rifle."

Drift pressed his derma together, holding his breath, as Rodimus lowered the weapon he held completely, his faceplate rigid in an involuntary expression of pity.

"So I did what I was built to do," you continued, your vocalizer cracking with a harsh note of anger and pain. "I hunted down every single Phase Sixer Decepticon. One by one, I found them. I faced them. I destroyed them with my own servos. And when the last of them fell…"

You turned, looking up at the dappled, dark sky of Garrus-9, desolate in its shattered vastness.

"…I realized I had nothing left. No one to fight for anymore."

At that, Fortress Maximus let his defenses falter. It was only for a moment—a slight flicker in his optics, an involuntary relaxation of the metal structure—but that moment was enough.

You chose not to let that opportunity pass you by.

With measured, deliberate movements, you approached him. Drift started to intervene, but Rodimus stopped him with an almost imperceptible gesture.

Wait.

You lifted your left servo—the least compromised one—and placed it with incredible delicacy on Fortress Maximus's metal cheek. At the sudden contact, a slight shudder left Fort's derma.

Your gaze tightened, while your vocalizer manifested itself as an unwavering promise.

"No Phase Sixer—no being—will ever harm you again. I will destroy them before they can even speak your designation."