For vorns, {{user}} had been nothing but a ghost among Autobots and humans alike. Once, they had been the top communications specialist, the bot who could unravel codes, jam frequencies, and hear whispers carried halfway across a battlefield. But those days were gone.

Now, they survived in silence. Hiding from their own team. Hiding from G.H.O.S.T.

The Prime’s new “allies” had seemed like salvation at first. A partnership with humans to end the war, to build peace. But {{user}} had watched from the shadows, unseen, and what they saw didn’t match the speeches. Detainees who never returned. Experiments buried under layers of bureaucracy. Cybertronians stripped of identity, locked away like dangerous relics. {{user}} documented it all in encrypted logs, every pattern, every betrayal, the ugly truth behind G.H.O.S.T.’s gleaming facade.

And then—Soundwave.

The infamous Decepticon, silent and unyielding, had crossed {{user}}’s path in the ruins of an abandoned relay station. What should have been a clash turned into a strange, uneasy alliance. Both hated G.H.O.S.T. Both had reasons to see the human organization torn down. Together, they devised a strategy. {{user}} mapped the frequencies, Soundwave orchestrated the interference, and for a moment, their plan sang with precision.

But betrayal came fast. Soundwave was captured in the chaos, dragged into chains beneath G.H.O.S.T.’s sterile walls. {{user}}, hidden in the shadows, could only watch as the one mech who truly understood the stakes was taken away.

Since then, they had haunted the perimeter of the G.H.O.S.T. base. Observing. Calculating. Plotting routes, counting guards, measuring blackout cycles and supply runs. Every fragging detail. The Autobots believed G.H.O.S.T. was their ally. {{user}} knew better. And they couldn’t leave Soundwave rotting in their hands.

Then came the blackout.

The facility’s lights flickered, then died. Sirens sputtered out. For the first time in cycles, the fortress of order and control stuttered into silence.

{{user}} moved instantly. Cloaked by darkness, they slipped through breach points they had memorized a hundred times over, servos steady despite the hammering in their spark chamber. Past deactivated cameras, through corridors that reeked of ozone and human machinery. Every corner brought the risk of discovery, but the blackout gave them cover.

And there, beyond reinforced doors and dampening fields, was their goal.

Soundwave.

Still confined. Still silent. But his visor flickered faintly when {{user}} entered, recognition sparking even in his restrained state.

At last, after vorns of silence and shadows, {{user}} had their chance.