Windblade's assertion that the AllSpark was on Earth was so blunt it caught Arcee off guard. The stranger's unwavering confidence only deepened Arcee's distrust.
"How do you know the AllSpark was on this planet?" Arcee asked, her voice sharp with tension.
"Was?" Windblade tilted her head slightly, her optics gleaming with unsettling calm. "I think you mean is. It is on this planet." She crossed her arms with deliberate poise, meeting their gazes without wavering. Catching the flicker of surprise on Arcee's face, and the silent exchange between her and Optimus, Windblade's expression softened into faint realization. "I see. You've only just learned of this, then. You seem… uninformed."
Without showing concern, she walked toward the still-sparkling portal behind them, passing between the two Autobots as if they posed no threat. Arcee was momentarily astonished by the audacity, but quickly regained her composure and, with a swift motion, transformed her arm into a cannon and leveled it at the visitor.
"Do not worry, I am not a threat," Windblade said with a half-smile. "But if you wish to chain me and interrogate me, that will do just as well. I have time." She raised her hands as though accepting the decision without resistance.
Minutes later, inside the Autobot base, Windblade sat on the concrete floor with restraints locking her wrists. Despite the circumstances, she maintained a composed expression.
"Well… I did not expect you actually to chain me. But I have no right to complain." She adjusted her posture, resting her elbows on her knees. "So—shall we talk?"
Optimus watched her silently while Arcee crossed her arms, gaze sharp.
"You arrived on this planet recently and yet you speak of the AllSpark as if you knew it was here," Arcee said, concealing no skepticism. "Begin your explanation. I have no reason to trust you."
Windblade inclined her head mildly, remaining calm. "I am glad you are cautious. I would do the same in your place. So… where would you like to begin?"
Her eyes briefly drifted to the corner of the room where Jack, Miko and Raf observed her with curiosity. It was obvious she had already deduced who the planet's natives were.
Optimus went straight to the point. "You said you were on a mission. You are searching for the AllSpark. How did you know it was here?"
"As I said, the AllSpark is on this planet," Windblade replied without hesitation. "But I can see you have been through terrible ordeals… considering the devastation at the site we were at earlier."
Arcee stepped forward, her tone sterner. "Forgive me for shattering your expectation, but the AllSpark was destroyed." The melancholy was there, hidden beneath the firmness of her words, yet she held her posture.
Windblade remained nearly motionless, almost stoic. Her gaze did not waver, and the absence of any surprised reaction unsettled the Autobots further.
"I do not know what occurred here," she said calmly, "but to claim the AllSpark was destroyed… is mistaken. I am here under orders to protect it."
The base plunged into heavy silence.
"Wait…" Ratchet stepped forward, incredulous. "What did you just say? Under orders to protect it? Girl, who are you, precisely? And why do you speak as if you knew it had always been on this planet?"
Windblade considered her words for a moment, arranging them before replying. "Well… I cannot say I knew exactly that it was here. I only knew the direction it had taken through the universe. But the recent energy spike made it considerably easier to pinpoint. For centuries I was instructed not to seek it. Only to hunt specific targets, to ensure nothing would disturb the balance."
Optimus stepped a little closer. "You were instructed not to search for the AllSpark?" His voice was firm, yet contained a tension. "Who exactly instructed you?"
The answer came short, simple, and laden with an almost supernatural weight.
"Primus."
That single word echoed through the base like a held thunderclap, slicing the silence. Everyone's optics widened; even Optimus, who rarely let emotion show, hesitated for an instant.
Ratchet stammered, unable to process so quickly. "Wait… you mean…?"
"Yes," Windblade confirmed, with a composure that was almost unsettling. "That Primus. The Creator. The one that dwells in Cybertron's core."
"That should be impossible…" Ratchet murmured, more to himself than to the others.
"It is not impossible," Windblade countered. "Optimus is living proof that Primus still intervenes when the fate of our kind is threatened."
Optimus held his gaze on her. He sensed there was truth to her words, something that resonated beyond mere statements.
"Tell us your story," he requested, his voice deep but steady. "We want to understand precisely who you are… and what is truly happening."
Windblade raised her optics, as if facing a burden far greater than anyone in the room could fathom. She inhaled deeply and prepared to begin.
"Well… it is a long tale. So, let us go slowly." Her voice was gentle, yet each word carried the weight of millennia. "My story begins during the war on Cybertron, chiefly in the era of mass evacuations. I was part of a small group that left the planet within the first twenty-four hours of the conflict. The city where we were was consumed by flames… Decepticons attacking without mercy. So, with a few friends and a stockpile of energon meant to last years, we fled into deep space. We fell upon a distant planet, three solar systems away from Cybertron. It was inhospitable, almost uninhabitable. Precisely for that reason, it was perfect for avoiding attention."
She paused as if replaying the images in her mind, then continued.
"But as one would expect… the energon ran out. We had supplies for a few years, not for the entire war. Eventually we were forced to return to Cybertron for more. Each trip cost lives. One of us always had to stay behind. So we avoided it whenever we could. But, over time, we were forced to choose sides. Some of my companions became Autobots. Others, Decepticons. I… remained neutral. Me and a few like me."
A brief silence followed. Even Arcee, rigid in bearing, diverted her gaze. The memory of a Cybertron consumed by war was always painful.
"The internal conflicts eventually drew the Decepticons' attention," Windblade continued in a darker tone. "They reached the colony. And… the massacre happened. After that, a few survivors and I kept fleeing—jumping from planet to planet. We even found other colonies, but all had been looted. We spent millions of years surviving on the bare minimum, always on the run."
Optimus kept his gaze fixed on her, absorbing every word she said. There was sincerity in her tone. He had always focused on resisting Megatron's attacks and leading the Autobots. It was the first time in a long time that he had heard a story from the perspective of a robot trying to prevent war. It almost seemed like fantasy, but he was curious about her story nonetheless.
"Then, about a thousand years ago, I decided to return to Cybertron. I hoped… perhaps to find a chance to survive. I landed on the planet with a ship nearly out of fuel. A one-way trip. I stayed there for days, searching for anything. But everything was… dead. Ruins. A cemetery of metal."
Her words made Arcee clench her fists. She did not want to revisit that scene.
Windblade lowered her gaze for a moment, as if feeling the weight of that instant anew. "And then… something happened. The ground beneath my feet began to change. The pieces moved, reshaped themselves. I had no time to react… I fell. When I awoke… I was before Primus."
A collective intake of breath filled the room. Even Miko widened her eyes.
Windblade noticed the skepticism on some of the Autobots' faces and offered a faint smile. "I know what you're thinking. But yes. Primus. Himself. He updated my systems, granted me new capabilities. And with this body… I was sent on a mission: to hunt any Decepticon that might disrupt the balance of the war. Any who would threaten the course of destiny that was moving toward this planet."
Jack, who had been listening in silence, raised his hand hesitantly. "Sorry… but there's something that doesn't add up. You speak… as if you knew something was about to happen. As if you had… foreseen it?"
Windblade turned to him with an almost gentle expression. "You are right, little human. I have not explained everything yet. But, in short… Primus granted me a skill similar to Alpha Trion's. I can perceive fragments of the future. Not everything… only echoes. But enough to guide my steps."
Miko, visibly excited, leaned forward until she nearly toppled over the railing. "If you can see the future… then how old am I?"
"Miko, that has nothing to do with—" Jack began, but was cut off.
"By human logic… you and the older boy are between fifteen and sixteen. The youngest is between eleven and twelve."
Miko's eyes went wide. "Okay… she really does see the future."
"That was just a coincidence," Jack muttered, crossing his arms. "It's impossible to see the future."
Windblade merely smiled slightly. "The capacities of Cybertronians exceed what you can imagine. Optimus knows this. He understands that I am not lying." She looked at the Autobot leader, who maintained a grave expression. "And to be clear, my ability does not compare to that of a true Prime. I can see only hours, or at most a day ahead. But for tracking targets, it is… extremely useful."
Ratchet interrupted, impatience evident in his voice. "Interesting. You said you were hunting—that you were on a mission. So… explain precisely how you came to be here, on Earth."
Windblade took a moment, drawing inward to her memories.
"After Cybertron, my journey was… long. For a thousand years I was sent on specific hunts. I eliminated Decepticons who might have altered the course of the war. For a long time, it was… straightforward. During that time I encountered other Autobots…and a few masters who taught me to broaden my abilities. Not merely to fight with my advantages…but to adapt."
She paused briefly, and then a nostalgic light appeared in her gaze. She remembered the time, by pure coincidence, when she met Amalgamous Prime. He taught her the art of formless combat, though she preferred not to comment on the irresponsible, immature nature of that mentor.
"Of course, my tracking capacities were amplified by Primus. He gave me something beyond simple sensors—a deeper awareness. A link that allowed me to locate the Allspark with precision… but only if he permitted it. Still, Primus himself guided me never to seek it deliberately. The order was clear: keep it safe, keep it hidden. The direct exposure of Cybertronians near it would compromise the plan. It had to remain concealed… for as long as possible."
A heavy silence followed. For most of the Autobots this sounded almost absurd. They had witnessed the Allspark's destruction hours earlier—they had seen the fragments, felt the pain. Yet Optimus did not avert his gaze.
Something inside him kept pulsing, an uncomfortable doubt. Had it truly been destroyed on the battlefield? Was it the genuine Allspark? And if not…why had he never sensed its presence on Earth all this time? The question echoed like a whisper he could not silence.
Windblade continued, her tone darkening:"Days ago I was hunting a very specific Decepticon. One who had wiped out an entire species without hesitation." She narrowed her optics; anger trembled in her voice. "Her name is Airachnid. I cornered her, I managed to wound her… and the finishing blow was within reach. But, suddenly, my connection to Primus was brutally severed. As if a vital thread had been cut. In that instant… I lost the ability to sense his energy. Because of that, Airachnid escaped. She fled… directly to this star system."
Arcee clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles creaked. Merely hearing the name of her arch-enemy brought back every scar, every trauma—and above all, the rage. The memory of what Airachnid had done to her and so many others was a burden that never truly lifted.
Windblade drew a deep breath and went on:"Even with the connection broken, Primus sent one last message—delayed by distance. His words were clear. I was given a mission: come to this planet, find the Allspark…and protect it at any cost."
Arcee exploded, voice trembling with indignation. "That makes no sense! The Allspark was destroyed before my eyes! I saw it! I was there!" Her irritation was as much at herself as at Windblade—the impotence burned inward.
Windblade remained composed. Her optics gleamed with an almost imperturbable coldness."Primus's final words to me were: 'The Allspark has assumed the native form of the dominant species of the planet. Its current disguise almost completely suppresses its presence. Only Cybertronians directly connected to its energy will truly sense it. Otherwise… it will be perfectly camouflaged as a mere human.'"
Her words reverberated through the base, leaving everyone stunned.
"The variable that changes the course of the war, Optimus," Windblade turned to him, gaze sharp as a blade, "…is that the Allspark now possesses its own will. A dominant consciousness. For all the years on Cybertron it remained neutral. But now… it can move. It can choose. It is free to act as it wishes, without anyone perceiving it."
"That… should be impossible," Bulkhead murmured in disbelief—finally voicing what many had only felt.
Windblade smiled faintly, as if she had expected the reaction. "Do not worry. My words will be corroborated by someone you trust."
She glanced toward the elevator that led to the heliport. The enigmatic tone in her voice made everyone tense.
"Your friend named Fowler will confirm what I have said."
As if fate had followed her prediction to the letter, the elevator doors opened.
The veteran agent Fowler appeared, his face marked by the strain of recent hours. He was sweaty and exhausted, yet his eyes carried urgency.
"Prime!" he called, voice steady despite fatigue. "I need to speak with you! It's urgent!"
Arcee widened her optics in surprise. She turned slowly toward Windblade, who merely shrugged with a calm, almost bored air.
"I told you… I can see the future," she remarked, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.