The Lost Light’s main hangar was quiet, save for the idle chatter of a few crew members. A transfer was arriving today—not a fresh recruit, not some bright-eyed newcomer, but a fully trained Autobot from another unit. Some were mildly curious, others outright uninterested. After all, transfers happened, and not all of them fit in.

Rodimus, however, was looking forward to this. He had high hopes.

Ultra Magnus, standing rigid at his side, did not.

“They won’t integrate well,” Magnus stated flatly, optics locked on the docking bay doors.

Rodimus scoffed. “Come on, you don’t even know them.”

“I read their file.”

“That’s exactly the problem. You see a file, I see potential.”

Magnus didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes. He wasn’t convinced.

The hydraulics of the main doors hissed, and a new set of heavy footfalls echoed through the hangar. A lone figure stepped inside, frame sharp against the dim lighting. Their optics swept across the waiting Autobots with a gaze that was calm, unreadable.

Some mechs straightened, others glanced at each other.

Rodimus grinned.

Magnus frowned.

This was the moment of truth. Would they thrive among the Lost Light crew… or were they already doomed to fail?