Leandro stepped out the back door, adjusting the strap of his backpack, a half-eaten slice of toast still in one hand. He turned toward the garage with a quick glance.
"I'm heading out!" he called.
Sofía, elbow-deep in the guts of an old generator, glanced up with narrowed eyes.
"If Bee crashes into another pole, I swear I'll sell him to the scrapyard. I mean it, Leandro!"
Leandro laughed. "He promised—no drifting near the marketplace this week!"
Sofía rolled her eyes. "I'll believe it when I don't see it on the news."
Out on the side road, Bumblebee waited, parked just behind the gate, gleaming in the soft morning sun.
But this wasn't the war-worn Bee of the past.
He looked reborn.
Still a classic Camaro, but now in bright, polished yellow metallic, lined with sleeker matte-black stripes.
Armor panels slightly refitted—a mix of salvaged Cybertronian tech and local modifications.
His headlights looked sharper, more modern—reflected the same spark, but with new energy.
Bee opened his driver-side door automatically, like always.
Leandro hopped in, tossing his bag into the back seat.
"I'm five minutes late. We gotta fly," he muttered, buckling in.
Bee didn't answer with words. Instead, his radio clicked to life:
📻 "Let's roll." (Optimus Prime's voice, from an old recording.)
With a deep growl from the engine and a quick tire spin on the dusty road, Bumblebee launched forward like a bullet.
Leaves shot into the air. Grit, who had been sweeping spilled oil near the yard, got blown into a pile of batteries. Snapper nearly fell off a car hood.
From the porch, Sofía crossed her arms and watched the blur of yellow disappear.
"That kid... and his chatty car," she muttered. "One day, they're gonna blow this place sky high."
🛠️ Yeager's Workshop – Texas
Cade Yeager was under an old truck, a wrench in hand and oil streaks on his forearm, adjusting the suspension bolts with practiced ease. Nearby, Jolt was recalibrating a surveillance drone, while Clampdown, the ex-Decepticon-turned-grumpy-yard-guard, was sitting on a crate reading a safety manual—upside down.
Suddenly, tires crunched on gravel outside. Footsteps climbed up the wooden porch stairs.
"Dad!"
Cade slid out from beneath the truck and looked up, squinting into the sunlight.
Standing in the doorway, dragging a large suitcase behind her, was Tessa Yeager. Her denim jacket was faded, her eyes tired—but she wore a half-smile that reminded Cade of the fire she used to have when she was younger.
"Tessa?" Cade blinked. "You didn't tell me you were coming!"
"I know," she said with a smirk. "If I did, you'd probably try to clean the house. I wanted to see the real workshop."
Clampdown grunted from the corner, "The 'real' version is... very dusty."
Tessa lifted her suitcase. "I quit my job. The city got boring. Three years after graduation, and I still feel more alive here than I ever did out there."
Cade slowly stood, a smile growing on his face.
"Well... this old place always needs smart hands. Welcome back to the chaos."
Outside, Jolt leaned toward Clampdown and muttered, "Another Yeager's back. The world's about to shake again."
🏫 Federal Tech University – Washington
Across the country, Leandro Rowan DelaVega strolled down a long hallway lined with tech labs and glass doors.
Dressed in a black denim jacket, tousled hair, and calm eyes, Leandro wasn't trying to impress anyone—but that didn't stop the heads turning.
Several girls glanced his way. A few whispered. One simply smiled as he passed.
He nodded politely, unaffected.
Leandro pushed open the door to his personal research lab, where a compact robot stood waiting by the workbench. It was waist-high, sleek, and full of personality—a product of months of solo experimentation.
"Morning, Gizmo," he said, patting the bot's head.
The robot's eyes lit up. "Battery level 93%. Mood: Excited."
Inside the lab, a large digital display was already set up. Two professors sat ready at a desk—evaluators for his scheduled presentation:
Project Autonomous Companion (PAC-01).
Leandro took a breath and stood at the front, loading his slides. The screen lit up with diagrams of his bot's internal structure, Spark-sensitive circuits, and motion algorithms.
He adjusted his pointer, rolled his shoulders once, then whispered to himself:
"Time to show them… I'm more than just another student."
🛰️ G.I. Headquarters – East Coast
Noah Díaz stood with arms crossed in front of the giant monitor inside G.I.'s intelligence room. Next to him was Tyler Reeve, a tall, effortlessly cool agent with tousled golden brown hair and a lazy smirk. He was tapping on a touchscreen like it was a video game.
A strange energy pattern blinked erratically on the screen.
Noah narrowed his eyes. "This frequency hasn't shown up since 2018."
Tyler didn't even look up. "Well… welcome back to the age of talking trucks."
Noah turned his gaze toward him. "If this connects to that 'Necro-whatever' file you buried in the Level-6 archives—"
Tyler cut in, still smiling. "Necrotron. And yeah, I wrote the firewall. But if something's triggering it now... it means he might not be entirely dead."
Noah let out a low sigh. "We need boots on the ground. I'll lead a recon team."
Tyler glanced over. "If you die, can I have your jacket?"
Noah gave him a look. "If I die, you're coming with me."
🪖 Nevada Military Complex – Restricted Zone
Colonel William Lennox stood in front of a floating holo-map, face sharp as ever despite the years. Around him were younger officers, focused and silent.
He pointed to a pulsing red dot on the map.
"This site used to be a Decepticon storage vault—until it was shut down post-Mission City. This week, our scanners picked up internal movement. No breach. No entry. Something's moving… from within."
One soldier spoke. "Sir, are we looking at another alien contact?"
Lennox's voice was steady. "Worse. We may be looking at a reactivation."
He tapped the display, revealing security footage from inside. Glitches danced across the screen, but visible was a partially reconstructed Transformer—face scarred, body mismatched, movements jerky. Its eyes blinked red, crackling with static.
Lennox's voice dropped.
"Effective immediately, all protocols switch to Extinction Watch. No one goes in or out unless I say so."
🏫 Washington,Bumblebee sat parked under the sun, polished and gleaming in his new upgraded form—a brighter yellow, sleeker bodywork, and subtle silver highlights welded by local mods. He stood out among the rows of dull sedans.
But his presence had blocked one tight parking spot.
A young man in a slick shirt, followed by a pretty girl in a blazer, tried to squeeze his car in beside Bee. It wasn't working.
The guy huffed. "What kind of idiot parks like this?"
He tried to wedge closer, even pushed lightly against Bee's door. No movement.
Then he placed his palm on Bee's hood—szzzzzztt!
"AAAH! HOT!"
Bee had intentionally superheated the outer shell.
Angry, the guy kicked the car hard.
"You piece of junk!"
The girl flinched. "Don't! I think that's not... normal."
Just then, Leandro Rowan DelaVega walked out of the building.
His cap slightly tilted, eyes narrowed behind a calm expression.
He saw the guy. He saw Bee. He didn't need to guess the rest.
Leandro walked up casually.
"Don't be rough with someone else's ride," he said coolly. "Especially when it's smarter than you."
The guy—Xavier, known campus jerk—snorted. "Well maybe tell your trash can not to take up two spots, genius."
Leandro paused, then flashed a charming, sarcastic smile. He glanced at Xavier's girlfriend, who awkwardly looked away.
"Whatever, man," Leandro muttered with a wink, opening Bee's door.
As he sat inside, Bee suddenly blasted his massive airhorn—
BBLLLLAAAAARRRRRRTTTT!!
Xavier clutched his ears. "DAMN IT! You'll regret this!"
Bee's window rolled down slightly. His radio clicked on—
📻 "Cry me a river..."
Leandro chuckled. "Classic Bee."