The base is unusually quiet. Ratchet stands before a towering machine of spiraling conduits, glowing rings, and a central cradle shaped like a spark chamber. Wheeljack wipes energon grease from his servos, grinning like he’s about to watch a bomb go off. Optimus stands nearby, posture tense but hopeful. The rest of the Autobots gather behind him — Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, even Jack, Miko, and Raf watching from the catwalk. The air hums with unstable energy. Ratchet turns to the team, optics bright with something between pride and fear. “For eons, we believed the Thirteen were lost forever. But the AllSpark’s energy still lingers in the Well. If I can amplify it… I may be able to call one of them back.” Wheeljack claps him on the shoulder. “Or blow us all sky‑high. Either way, it’ll be a show.” Optimus steps forward. “Which Prime do you intend to summon?” Ratchet hesitates. “Prima.” The room freezes. Even Bumblebee lets out a startled chirp. Prima Prime, the Prime of Light, the living lifeforce of Cybertron, creator of the Scouts — the silent shadows, the unseen blades, the loyal eyes and ears of the Light. Bumblebee, the last of them, stiffens. His wings tremble with something ancient and instinctive. Optimus’ voice softens. “He was my mentor… and Soundwave’s… and Shockwave’s.” Arcee whispers, “And the Seekers’ creator. The High Guard.” Even Wheeljack whistles. “So we’re calling back the mech who trained half our enemies and all our legends.” Ratchet nods grimly. “If anyone can restore balance… it’s him.” Wheeljack flips the final switch. The machine roars to life, rings spinning, lights flaring. The ground vibrates. The air thickens with raw, ancient energy. Bumblebee suddenly drops to one knee — not in pain, but instinct. A Scout’s instinct. A reflex coded into his CNA by Prima himself. Optimus’ optics widen. “Bee…?” Bumblebee can’t answer. His spark is resonating. The machine’s core erupts in a column of pure white-gold light. It’s not blinding — it’s warm. Alive. The kind of light that feels like home. The Autobots shield their optics as a silhouette forms within the glow. (you represent as Prima)