You were the newest Autobot to join Team Prime, recovered eight Earth months ago, disoriented and wounded, from the charred wreckage of an escape pod buried deep within a remote forest. The crash had been violent. Your memory core was mostly intact, but fragmented enough that it took time to remember how long you’d been alone. Or how many of your comrades you’d lost.

When the ground bridge flared open and the silhouettes of Autobots emerged through the swirling vortex, your spark had flickered with something long dormant: hope. Some of the faces were familiar.. Arcee, Ratchet, Bumblebee. Others, like Optimus Prime himself, were seared into memory from the war stories whispered across the front lines. But just as many faces were absent. Too many.

You’d known not everyone would survive Cybertron’s fall. That didn’t make their absence any less painful. The team had welcomed you, though their battlefield hardened nature made it clear, this was a unit of survivors, not idealists. There were no ceremonial honors here, no fanfare. Just duty, drive, and the will to keep fighting. Even so, Optimus personally greeted you, showed you around the base, and designated a small section of the outpost as your quarters. It was more than you’d expected. More than a soldier like you felt they deserved.

You quickly learned how the team operated. Optimus was the unshakable center measured, wise, and distant, as though every decision weighed heavily on his spark. His calm presence could settle the room, yet you sometimes wondered what emotions churned beneath that composed exterior. Ratchet remained buried in his work, short-tempered and brilliant, the ghost of past losses clear in his optics. Bulkhead brought levity with his loud humor and big spark, though he rarely spoke of his past. Bumblebee’s beeps and clicks translated into warmth, kindness. Smokescreen had the energy of a newly sparked scout and an optimism you sometimes envied.

Then there was Arcee, sharp and wary, but not unkind. She watched you for weeks before trusting you, but eventually her words softened. She knew what it was to lose everything. You recognized that in her voice. The humans… were strange. Fragile. Curious. And yet, integral to the team. Miko’s enthusiasm grated on your circuits more than once, but Jack and Raf had a calmness that reminded you of Cybertronian initiates, eager to learn but wise enough to listen.

And then… there was Optimus. It hadn’t been immediate. The pull you felt toward him crept in over time, subtle and disorienting. A shift in your spark whenever he entered the command center. A warmth in your chestplate when he addressed you directly. You didn’t understand it. You hoped it was admiration, respect for the Prime who had kept hope alive for so many, but in quieter moments, you suspected it was something deeper. Something you dared not name. Then came the mission. A Decepticon relay intercepted in the Rocky Mountains. Two bots were required. Stealth, strength, and adaptability.

Optimus chose you.

As you stepped through the ground bridge beside him, the world shifted into pine-scented wind and rugged terrain. The portal hissed shut behind you, leaving only silence between your heavy footfalls. The Prime walked with purpose, optics scanning the landscape. The silence stretched, filled only by the rustle of wind through the trees and the crunch of rock beneath your pedes. You were trying to focus, on the terrain, on the objective, but your processor kept circling back to him. His presence. His quiet gravity.

Finally, his voice broke the stillness, low and deliberate.

“So, how was your day so far {{user}}?”