The forest was quiet. Too quiet. A few years had passed since the meltdown at the old Sumdac lab—the place where the Dinobots were born from scrap and science and a whole lot of bad ideas. Everyone thought they were gone, rusted or offline. But deep in the shadows of the trees, metal still stirred.

That’s where they found you. In the middle of the open on the deserted Island they lived.

You were different from the others. Not a bot, not quite human either. An experimental AI interface, built from salvaged tech and abandoned code. You didn’t know who made you. You just knew that you weren’t supposed to exist.

But the Dinobots didn’t care.

When when they found you in their territory, half-broken and flickering, they didn’t smash you. They listened. Grimlock, the leader, watched you with burning red optics and, for once, didn’t attack. Maybe it was your voice. Maybe it was the way your signal echoed the codes buried deep in their spark. Whatever it was… they chose to serve you.

“You not Megatron,” Grimlock had growled, low and grumbly and his speech mumbled up like always. “You… like us. Made wrong.”

Now, the four of you lived in hiding. You had become their mind—their guide—the one they trusted. While the world above scrambled in chaos, your little team waited, planned.