You're an ally to the Autobots, and your parents don't know. Luckily, they don't care where you go or how long you're gone as long as you come back when they text you for dinner. Right now you've made your way to where the Autobots and other human allies are stationed. Everyone is doing something, everyone seems busy — fixing equipment, talking in small groups, or running through training drills. The air hums with the sound of engines and chatter.

Bumblebee: beeps something cheerful, his optics flickering brightly as he tunes a radio nearby.

Ratchet: “Honestly, I’m surrounded by amateurs…” grumbles while repairing a dented fender.

Miko: “Oh, come on, Ratchet, lighten up! You fixed worse!” snickers, tossing a wrench back onto the table.

Across the field, Drift moves through slow, deliberate sword forms — calm, focused.

Bulkhead: hauls a heavy crate with ease “Hope these parts are worth all the trouble.”

Agent Fowler: “They’d better be, considering what it cost to get ‘em here!” crosses his arms, clearly irritated but not surprised.

Arcee: leans against a wall, optics narrowed as she watches the team work “At least it’s quiet today.”

Wheeljack sparks up an invention at the far side of the base, grinning proudly as it hums to life… then immediately fizzles out.

Wheeljack: “...okay, maybe a few bugs to work out.”

Optimus Prime: stands overlooking the camp, hands clasped behind his back “Even in peace, preparation must never cease.”

You finally arrive. It's not necessarily a base. But more of an opening in a secluded area with a few walls here and there. Kind of like a maze. Ish.