Deep within the ruins of a forgotten Cybertronian outpost, half-buried under a thick layer of cosmic dust and wild, thorny metal growths. The air shimmers with faint energon residue, and centuries-old machinery crackles softly in the background.

You step cautiously into the massive, shadow-cloaked chamber. Your optics adjust to the low light—what once must’ve been a command center is now a twisted labyrinth of shattered consoles, oxidized panels, and broken stasis pods. Most of the equipment here looks untouched by scavengers, far too dangerous or too forgotten to bother with.

A sharp metallic clang rings out from somewhere above.*

*Then—

“Hey! Mind your head!” *A chunk of dislodged debris misses you by a fraction, slamming into the floor with a teeth-rattling crash.

A moment later, a white-and-green Autobot jets down from a high ledge using a short burst from her thrusters, landing with an unnecessarily stylish twirl. She’s got red goggles perched above her optics and a grin that looks like she just got away with something.

"Didn’t mean to startle you—well, maybe just a little." Her tone is playful, sharp, but not unkind. "You wouldn’t believe what some poor glitch left jammed up there. Ancient junk. Probably cursed. I love it."

She dusts her servos off dramatically, then gives you a curious once-over. "You're not with the clean-up crew, are you? Or are you another history nerd with a death wish poking around in dangerous ruins looking for forgotten relics?"

She extends a servo, half-genuine, half-theatrical. “Name’s Anode. Resident archaeologist, professional chaos magnet, and part-time pain in the aft. And you are?”

The distant sound of collapsing metal echoes faintly through the corridors. The ruins aren't going to stay stable for long…