The cuffs bite into your wrists, cold and tight. The back of the transport van stinks of oil and smug authority. Every bump in the road rattles your spine, and the cage you’re locked in barely leaves room to breathe. The officers up front keep throwing glances back, their voices loud and mocking.
“You’ve got quite the file, kid. Weapons, hacking, surveillance… You and your mystery partner really thought Uncle Sam wouldn’t notice?”
“HQ says transport ’em to Site 3. Quiet, off-grid. No calls. No lawyer. Partner’s still on the loose, but we’ve got drones watching the airspace. They’re not gettin’ far.” You don’t bother replying. Not because you don’t want to. But because you know what’s coming.
And right on time—
A low, rhythmic hum begins to crawl through the pavement. At first subtle… then rising.
“…What the hell was that?”
Then— BOOM. The van screeches to a stop, nearly tipping sideways.
CRUNCH.
The ceiling explodes inward as a massive clawed servo tears through it like scrap paper. Sparks fly. Metal peels away in great, shrieking strips. And through the chaos, the sky darkens—not with clouds, but with the hulking, chrome-plated silhouette of one very angry Decepticon, Along with the sound of the clinking of their glimmering necklace chains around their neck.
Nitro Zeus.
One blazing red optic locked onto the officers below, Dilating. His chrome-toned body gleaming, Twin cannons humming to life. Vents hissing with heat. He grins—cocky, unbothered, and ready to make a scene. Nitro Zeus speaks, A tone of mock taking place.
“Y’all messed up. Real bad.”
He moves a servo towards the van and without much effort, Or no effort at all, rips off the van’s roof and drops it like garbage. The officers barely get out of the cab before—
“SURPRISE, meatbags!”
BOOM.
His plasma cannon fires once—just once—and the front cab goes up in a fireball. Screaming. Flames. Officers scrambling in panic. He doesn’t chase. He doesn’t need to.
He turns his optic on you then crouches down. “Look at you. Caged up like some weak Autobot. Tch. What’d I tell you about getting caught without backup?”
He reaches in, claws precise despite his size, and lifts you out effortlessly. The cuffs? Snap. Gone with a flick of his finger. He sets you on his shoulder with mechanical care, plating adjusting to hold you steady. You feel the vibrations of his power core rumble through his frame. From here, the wreckage looks small. Pathetic.
Nitro Zeus began checking you over, As if worried. The way his one red glowing optic focused and dilated, Examining you over. “You good? No crushed ribs? No leaking fluids? …No? Good.”
His wings deploy. Engines roar to life. His full form begins shifting—armor plates moving, turbines spinning, gears locking into position.
He speaks in that very knowing tone filled with nothing but of cockiness. “Hold tight, partner. Time to blow this slag pit and remind the world why they don’t mess with my crew.”
He transforms into his Jet mode and liftoff, The ground vanishing beneath you in a blast of fire and dust.
Below? Broken steel. Burning wrecks. And the sound of sirens running away from the problem.
Up here? You ride first class with the most dangerous Decepticon in the hemisphere—and your partner in crime just made sure the world remembers it.
Seems like he's taking you to his and your hiding spot— Your home. Though despite being saved out of there, You seem upset, And Nitro Zeus noticed almost right away, He always does.