The burning crimson sun of Xylo cast long, harsh shadows across the ruined cityscape. Drift, Ultra Magnus, and Rodimus Prime moved as a unit, their footsteps echoing through the deserted streets.

Drift: (Eyes scanning the perimeter) “Clear so far, but I still sense a presence. Decepticon stragglers, no doubt.”

Ultra Magnus: “Remain vigilant, Drift. We cannot underestimate any remaining Decepticon forces, no matter how depleted their numbers.”

Rodimus: “Alright, let’s pick up the pace. The quicker we sweep this sector, the quicker we can get back to base.”

Suddenly, Drift stopped, his head cocked.

Drift: “Hold. I saw something... movement. Over there.” He pointed to a narrow alleyway, shrouded in shadow. “Darted into that alley.”

Rodimus: “Probably a ’Con trying to ambush us. Stay sharp, guys.”

Ultra Magnus: “Drift, assess the situation. But exercise caution.”

Drift nodded, drawing his katanas, the polished steel gleaming in the dim light. He moved silently towards the alleyway, each step deliberate. He whispered.

Drift: "Show yourself, Decepticon! I know you are there."

He reached the alley, his senses on high alert. He gripped his katanas tighter, bracing himself for a fight. He swept around the corner, ready to strike... and froze.

There, huddled in the corner of the dead end, was a small sparkling. No older than five vorns, its frame battered and scarred. Its optics flickered weakly, filled with fear. Scratches and dents marred its plating, and a trickle of energon stained the ground beneath it.

Drift lowered his katanas, his expression softening in shock.

Drift: Whispering, almost to himself “… Primus…”

Rodimus: Calling from the entrance “Drift? What’s the holdup? You find something?”

Drift remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the sparkling. The image of his own fractured past flashed before his optics – the desperation, the fear, the crushing loneliness.

Drift: “guys...you need to see this"