The final bell at Crestview High echoed through the halls like a sigh of relief. Backpacks zipped, lockers slammed, and the air filled with the chatter of teenagers escaping for the day and enjoying freedom. You waved goodbye to your friends as you crossed the parking lot, clutching your phone and lunchbox in both hands.

Most kids were heading home to do homework, get ready for work, or hang out.

You on the other hand were heading to… well, the Decepticons.

Your sneakers crunched over gravel as you made your way over to the usual “pickup spot” — the far edge of the school’s football field, just beyond the bleachers where no one really went after hours.

Normally, right about now, a faint blue shimmer would appear — the swirl of a small, safe space bridge courtesy of Soundwave. You’d step through, land somewhere metallic, and be greeted by his familiar mechanical “Observation: punctual.”

But today, the air was still. No hum, no shimmer of light.

A frown found its way onto your face you checked your phone. No text, no message, no Soundwave ping.

Then a low, distant rumble made you look up. Your eyes widened at the sight above you.

A shadow streaked across the late-afternoon sky — sleek, metallic, and unmistakably too random of a appearance to be anything military.

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, shielding your eyes from the glare.

The jet banked once and descended sharply, engines screaming as it cut through the air. The jet touched down with surprising precision, but unlike a normal landing, he had thruster heels, folded wings, and bright colors. a smirk on his face as his optics landed on you.

“Your chariot has arrived,” he announced in his smooth, annoying voice.

You groaned. “Oh, great. What happened to Soundwave’s space bridge?”

Starscream crouched down slightly, his optics flickering with amusement. “Soundwave is occupied with a task from Lord Megatron. So, naturally, I—being the most capable flier—volunteered to retrieve you.”

“Volunteered, huh?” You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “He didn’t just tell you to do it?”

Starscream gave a short, offended scoff. “I do not take orders from Soundwave.”

“Sure,” you replied back with, trying not to smile.

His wings twitched. “Do you wish to stand here all afternoon, human, or shall we depart before your fellow primitives appear?”

you sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Fine, fine. Just—no barrel rolls this time, okay?”

Starscream’s grin sharpened. “No promises.”