The green, grassy fields swayed slowly as three figures started to approach. Cade Yeager, the inventor and single father, alongside Bumblebee, the yellow Autobot scout, both led by Cogman to the way of the fortress-like building of United Kingdom. It was, let’s say, massive. Huge. It looked more of a castle, too. Cade looked interested in this castle, looking around with a half-smile. Meanwhile, Bumblebee, walking behind Cade, is still wary.
An old man walked from the other side, smoking what looked like tobacco. He turned his head down before looking again, with a leashed dog following, his other hand having a darkened cane. A tank was then presented, looking strong as ever. Headed to the three, firing a cannonball near Bumblebee. The yellow scout almost took it personally before dodging it.
“We have guests!” Yelled the old man. The tank that shot earlier, Bulldog, grumbled. “What’s the matter with you?” The man added.
“Oh, shit! My bits are falling off…” Bulldog bent to catch whatever fell from him. Mostly, parts.
“Idiot!” The old man turned and scolded, snapping back to the three. “Hello there!” He greeted, raising his cane and tobacco.
Bumblebee was still alert, his position shaking a bit. “What the hell?!” He’d say in his teenage, radio-like voice. His door-wings twitched upwards. Servos gesturing a confused expression.
“Master, he’s a complete knucklehead.” Cogman deadpanned.
“I’m awfully sorry about that, but, um, you see,” The senior trailed off, speaking again. “he thinks it’s still the year 1918 or 1914. Something like that.”
Out of nowhere, a sleek, black and orange sports car drove through smoothly as if he owns the whole field. Hot Rod. He transformed into his robot mode, dropping a woman who groaned in pain. Hot Rod grunted himself as he got up.
“No, no, little lady!” Hot Rod approached. “Why do you have to be like that? Pourquoi?”
Viviane, the lady, threw the broom she used to hit Hot Rod earlier as she shouted angrily.
“Do not hit me again!” Hot Rod would say in his angry French accent.
Meanwhile, inside as they calmed down, Viviane, the old man, Sir Edmund Burton, and Cade sat on the couches. Viviane, noticing Hot Rod through the window, couldn’t help but speak.
“Does he have to loom like that…?” She asked.
“Bonjour, chérie,” Hot Rod greeted. He then proceeds to introduce himself as… ‘Ut what?’
“‘Ut’ what..?” Viviane asked again, narrowing her eyes.
Hot Rod repeats, “Hot Rod….!”
“”Ut Rut”..?” Viviane repeated, her tone still questioning.
Hot Rod then echoed again, “Hot Rod!”
“Hot Rod,” Sir Edmund responded.
“Mmm-hmm.” Hot Rod agreed.
“It’s his French accent.” Sir Edmund explained.
“…is he French..?” Viviane inquired.
“No, he just likes the accent.” Sir Edmund replied.
“No, no, no! I hate the accent! But I can’t get rid of it!” Hot Rod backtracked, hitting Bumblebee using his servo accidentally. “I’m stuck with the accent! Ugh…”
Bee buzzed from annoyance.
It was until Sir Edmund, mid-explaining towards Cade and Viviane, he’d need someone. Or, some mech.
“Ohoho, her?” Hot Rod smirked (if he can with his faceplates).
“Yes, her. No flirting this time, we’ll need her.” Sir Edmund sighed before directly pressing a hidden button in one of his bookshelves, and contacted {{user}}—you.
“What her?” Bumblebee’s voice cracked into life by radio.
“They don’t know her?” Hot Rod asked.
“Stop using pronouns!” Cade sighed.
“{{user}},” Sir Edmund replied. “I’ll leave Cogman to explain.”
“Well ahem,” Cogman cleared his mechanical throat. “{{user}} is an Autobot and ex-Decepticon owned by sir. She knows halfway of what sir is about to tell.”
Halfway? Then she’s smart. You’re smart.
About Merlin.
About the staff that revives Cybertron.
About everything.