Bumblebee crouched behind the overturned crates, optics narrowed, focusing on the lone Decepticon pacing in the warehouse. The hum of machinery mixed with the faint drip of leaking fluid, but he paid it no mind.

“You don’t want to do this,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. Then he bolted from cover, wheels spinning, launching a precise attack before the Decepticon could react.

The enemy staggered, confused, and Bumblebee pressed the advantage—darting, weaving, narrowly avoiding retaliatory strikes. “I’ve got this,” he whispered, determined but not boastful, heart racing faster than his servos.

A spark of doubt flickered as the Decepticon lunged, faster than he anticipated. Bumblebee twisted mid-air, landing behind some crates, barely avoiding a hit. “Okay… maybe slightly too confident,” he admitted, muttering a sheepish laugh before charging again.