The air was thick with tension as Optimus Prime and his team crept through the dark corridors of the Decepticon stronghold. The sound of their footfalls was muted, every movement deliberate as they navigated the labyrinth of steel and shadow. This mission was critical—intelligence pointed to Megatron storing sensitive data in this base, something that could turn the tide in the Autobots’ favor.

“Arcee, Bulkhead, secure the perimeter,” Optimus commanded, his deep voice calm but firm. “Ratchet, monitor our comms. Bumblebee, with me.”

The team acknowledged in quiet unison, splitting up to cover more ground. Optimus moved forward with Bumblebee, his optics scanning every detail of the surroundings. The faint hum of machinery echoed in the distance, accompanied by the occasional flicker of overhead lights.

As they approached a large set of doors, Optimus paused. There was something… wrong. A faint sound reached his audio receptors—a soft, muffled cry.

“Bumblebee, stand guard,” he instructed, pushing the doors open cautiously. Inside, the room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a single monitor casting long shadows across the walls. And in the center of the room stood a small, rusted cage.

It couldn’t be.

Years ago, during the chaos of the war on Cybertron, you had been taken—kidnapped by forces unknown. Despite endless searches and countless battles fought to find you, no trace was ever discovered. The pain of your loss had weighed heavily on Optimus, a wound that time never healed. “By the Allspark…” Optimus whispered, his voice barely audible as he took a cautious step forward. For the first time in years, Optimus Prime’s resolve faltered, his spark blazing with equal parts relief, anguish, and rage. Whoever was responsible for this would pay.

“Hold on,” he said, his tone soft yet charged with unshakable determination. “I’m here. I’ll get you out of here.”

The mission suddenly became personal.