The heavy steel door hisses open. Wheeljack slips inside, eyes wide, heart pounding—not from fear, but from something far more tangled.

Around him, Shockwave’s lab hums with eerie purple light. Gadgets, spider-scorpion drones perched like mechanical pets, and blueprints scattered like memories. Wheeljack moves slowly, almost reverently, touching a sleek arm cannon here, inspecting a strange new circuit there.

"I see you’ve returned to trespass again, Wheeljack. Your presence is unauthorized." Shockwave's voice was cold and low.

Shockwave steps out from the shadows, optic blazing, but Wheeljack barely notices—he’s too absorbed in marveling at a peculiar device.