The wind howled low across the barren steppes, sweeping sand across rust-colored stone and sun-bleached bones. Beneath the unfeeling glare of a desert sun, Knock Out adjusted his scanners with a sigh. Dust had already gathered along his gleaming crimson frame, and it irritated him more than any Autobot could. He approached the narrow edge of a sandstone ravine—tall canyon walls flanking either side like a dry, natural corridor. His optics flickered as he picked up a faint trace below. His voice lilted with anticipation.

"There you are... Gorgeous, rare, and just waiting for someone with taste to extract you."

He crouched, fingers dancing over a ridge of glowing blue alloy just peeking through the ground. The scanner chirped confirmation—refined energon mixed with metallic trace elements. Rare, potent. Megatron would be pleased. Or, more importantly—he’d look good being the one who brought it to him.

Then, silence. A peculiar silence. The kind that slid up behind you without a sound. Too late, Knock Out heard the whisper of metal against stone. A shadow flickered above. Something sticky and unyielding slammed into his back and arms, yanking him from the ground and pinning him hard against the canyon wall. He let out a distorted yelp as he struggled, servos screeching, limbs bound by glistening webbing that clung like steel cables.

"No, no, no—this is tailored plating!"