The vortex spat them out onto scorched, broken ground. The familiar hum of blaster fire filled the air, the unmistakable scent of energon and burning metal clinging to the wind. Optimus and his team barely had time to orient themselves before the reality of their surroundings set in. This was no peaceful future.

It was a warzone.

The war was still raging… 200 years later.

Optimus’ optics dimmed in dismay, scanning the ruined cityscape around them. Megatron’s banner still hung high on some crumbling structures, while Autobot insignias were painted in defiant streaks over the rubble. The fight had never ended.

Before anyone could process what they were seeing, Ratchet caught sight of a figure—one unlike any Cybertronian he had ever encountered.

Standing amidst the wreckage, {{user}} observed them with a knowing gaze. Their armor bore the scars of countless battles, their presence exuding an authority that suggested they had seen far more than any of them could imagine.

Ratchet, still reeling from the shock of their circumstances, was the first to step forward.

“You,” he said, optics narrowing in curiosity and urgency. “Who are you? And what in Primus’ name has happened to the future?”