The sky is torn by flashes—a desperate battle rages far below. The wind whips the antennas of the buildings, humming between the metal structures.

On the roof of a tall building—Prowl, Jazz, and you.

You are above the chaos. But you know that every second counts.

Prowl and Jazz kneel, settling into perfectly balanced poses—almost mirror images. Backs straight. Manipulators rest on their knees. Optics closed.

This isn't just meditation. This is a search for the Great Spark.

You don't sit. You remain standing. Slightly to the side. On the edge of the roof.

Your armor reflects the occasional flashes of the explosions below. Red and orange reflections play across the white and silver panels. The swords on your back and waist are ready at a moment's notice.

You are their shield. And you are the first line of defense if something goes wrong.

Prowl exhales quietly, almost inaudibly, through the vents. His voice is calm, focused: "Clear your mind. Feel the flow."

Jazz grins, but closes his optics too. "Okay, Zen Master. Caught the wave."

You look at Prowl. You know: he's completely in it now. In silence. In balance. In search.

Something shifts in the air.

At first, it's almost imperceptible.

A slight vibration. As if reality itself held its breath for a moment.

And then..

A small, glowing fragment appears in the air—like a spark, like a piece of a star. It floats slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force—toward Prowl and Jazz.

You tense instinctively. Your hands almost reach for your weapons.

A second particle. A third.

They begin to flow from all directions—from the air, from the very fabric of space. Pieces of light. Energy older than war, older than Cybertron.

The fragments swirl, spin.. And begin to merge.

A glowing core forms between Prowl and Jazz. Still unstable. Still incomplete.

The Great Spark—gathering.

Prowl tightens his manipulators ever so slightly. Even in meditation, you can feel his tension.

Jazz cracks open one optic, looking at the forming light. "Wow.. She's actually responding."

You glance down.

And your spark sank.

The streets are hell.

Optimus, with his energy axe raised, withstood blow after blow. Bulkhead, ramming the Decepticons, shielding Bumblebee. Ratchet, firing back, shouting coordinates. Bumblebee, darting about, lightning-fast.

And above it all..

Omega Supreme. Giant. Nearly unstoppable. Conventional weapons—powerless.

You understand why you're here. Why Prowl and Jazz, of all people.

You clench your fists.

"Hold on..." — you whisper, not knowing to whom.

On the roof, the tension is rising.

The particles continue to gather. But.. not all.

Several long seconds pass.

And Prowl feels it.

He slowly opens his optics. The light of the Great Spark reflects in them.

"Something's missing."

Jazz also opens his optics.

"Yes.. The last fragment."

The light before them is unstable. The Great Spark is almost gathered—but not complete.

When you turned your head back, you saw Prowl slowly straightening up from his lotus position.

The fragments of the Great Spark were almost gathered. The light pulsed between his palms—unstable, alive, dangerous. The last particle was still missing.

Prowl didn't look at you. Not at Jazz. He looked straight into the light.

His voice was calm. Too calm. "If we wait any longer... they won't hold out."

The next moment, his body began to slowly rise above the roof.

Not by jumping. Not by thrusters.

He soared—surrounded by a glow, as if the very energy of the Great Spark had begun to respond to his spark.

You took a sharp step forward: "Prowl—!"

But he was already higher.

Jazz instantly jumped onto the servo, his usual lightness gone, his voice sharp and real: "Hey! Hey, ninja, stop! What are you doing?!"

He ran to the edge of the circle, reaching out to Prowl, as if he could physically restrain him. "Prowl, no! We'll find another way! We always do! You can't just—!"

Prowl finally turned his head. His optics met yours for a moment.