The doors to Sentinel Prime’s office sealed with a sound like a coffin locking shut.

Cold, final, unforgiving.

D‑16 stood shackled beside B‑127, Starscream, and what remained of the High Guard—Energon cuffs humming faintly around their wrists, leeching strength, numbing systems, silencing sparks that burned too brightly. The room itself was a monument to authority: polished metal, towering windows, the city of Iacon spread below like a trophy Sentinel had already claimed.

B‑127’s optics flicked around, wide and buzzing with fear he hadn’t learned how to hide yet. “I… I don’t get it,” he murmured. “Why are we still online?”

Sentinel Prime turned from the window slowly, theatrically, a smug smile carved into his faceplate. “Look at this collection,” he said, voice dripping satisfaction. “The High Guard. I was starting to think you were a myth. Every surface run, every expedition—I was looking for you.”

Airachnid stepped forward from the shadows, sharp and pleased. “Tracking activity in the caves led me straight to them.”

Sentinel’s optics landed on Starscream, and his grin widened. “And Starscream? Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

“It was too easy,” Airachnid purred.

Starscream lunged against his restraints, voice warping with rage. “I will tear you apart piece by piece—”

Sentinel laughed. Actually laughed. “You sound ridiculous.”

Then his attention shifted. Locked. Focused.

“Oh, D‑16,” Sentinel said softly, mockery wrapped in pity. “Top of your sector. A golden cog. And all the while—a traitor.”

D‑16’s jaw tightened. His voice, when it came, was ice scraped raw. “I’m not the traitor. You are.”

Sentinel scoffed. “You’ve been conspiring with Quintessons. Sabotaging my search for the Matrix. Everything I need, everything I deserve.”

“That’s a lie!” B‑127 snapped.

Sentinel knelt in front of him, optics burning. “Truth is flexible down here,” he whispered. “And Iacon will believe whatever I tell it—right before I execute you.”

Metal groaned.

D‑16 straightened.

The cuffs whined as he forced himself upright, refusing to kneel, refusing to bow. Sentinel noticed immediately.

“Well,” Sentinel said, rising. “What’s this?”

“I won’t kneel to you,” D‑16 growled.

“Oh?” Sentinel smirked. “Feeling brave?”

“You don’t scare me,” D‑16 said. “Because you already took everything from me.”

Sentinel’s smile sharpened. “I know.”

The punch came fast—brutal, precise—sending D‑16 crashing to the floor. Gasps rippled through the room.

And then Sentinel noticed the sticker on D‑16’s shoulder.

“…Megatronus Prime.”

He peeled it off slowly, savoring the outrage that flared in D‑16’s optics. “Ah, a fan. He was impressive. Big. Brutal. Inspiring.” Sentinel tapped his chest plating. “That’s why I killed him. And took his cog.”

D‑16 roared, fury cracking through pain. “He was greater than you will ever be!”

Sentinel only laughed. He pressed the symbol back onto D‑16’s chest.

“Let’s make sure you remember that.”

The blowtorch ignited.

And the room filled with screaming metal, burning history, and the moment everything finally broke.