The medbay was shrouded in silence, the air heavy with tension and grief. Optimus Prime lay still on the berth, his once vibrant presence dimmed to a faint flicker. Ratchet’s hands trembled as he checked the monitors, each reading confirming the grim reality: Optimus’s spark was fading, and time was running out.

The other Autobots stood nearby, their faces etched with worry and helplessness. Arcee’s optics were downcast, Bumblebee’s usual cheer replaced with anxious clicks, and Bulkhead’s massive shoulders slumped under the weight of the moment.

“No spark donor… no hope…” Ratchet muttered under his breath, his voice hollow.

You stood at the back of the room, hidden in the shadows, heart pounding. They didn’t know. No one did. You had made your decision, a choice that felt both terrifying and inevitable.

They won’t understand, you thought, clenching your fists. But I know what I have to do.

Quietly, you slipped out of the room, unnoticed by the others.

Optimus wouldn’t want this… a small voice in your mind whispered, but you pushed it aside. There was no time for second-guessing. His life was worth more than yours. He was the leader, the protector—the heart of the Autobots.