The roar of engines and the screams of people tore the air. You ran among the ruins of the old factory, along with the remnants of the team, but this time everything went wrong. The people learned to hunt the Autobots - heavy trucks with the emblems of "Cemetery Wind" blocked the way. A metal network charge hit your leg, and pain pierced you like a red-hot rod.

With a crack, your left leg was torn off, and you fell to the concrete, leaving sparks and drops of blue energy liquid behind you.

"She's here!" — one of the soldiers yelled, aiming at your chest.

Shots tore through the silence. Metal around crumbled from bullets, each one echoed as a sharp pain in the body. You tried to crawl away, clinging to the stones with your fingers, but the engines refused to obey.

And then - a booming, rapid sound. A shadow rushed over the soldiers.

"DRIFT!" — you burst out when he appeared.

His figure seemed to appear out of thin air. He fell in front of you, drawing his katanas with a sharp metallic ringing. With a lightning-fast movement, he took down the first soldier, the blade passing through the armor like paper.

“No one… will touch her,” — his voice was cold and steely.

Bullets tore towards you, but Drift moved as if time had slowed. Blades flashed in the sunlight, reflecting the deadly rain. The metal of the blades rang, beating off the lead, and every movement of his hands was measured, perfectly precise - like an ancient samurai fighting in the heart of a modern hell.

"Stop! Fire!" — the soldiers shouted, but the ranks were already thinning.

Drift tore through the enemy line, leaving sparks, blood, and shell casings in his wake. With one blow, he pierced an armored vehicle, causing it to burst into flames, and with the second, he threw a katana that pinned the machine gunner to the wall. Returning the weapon with a quick gesture, he shielded you with his body, his back becoming an impenetrable shield.

You watched as sheaves of sparks from ricochets rained down on his shoulders, as his eyes glowed with a cold blue light. He moved without mercy, without hesitation. Men fell one after another, and soon the battlefield was silent, filled only with smoke and the ringing of blades, still dripping with someone else's blood.

He turned to you, kneeling. His hand gently touched your shoulder, supporting you.

"You are wounded. But as long as I live, no one will dare touch you again," — he said quietly, but his voice rang with rage and an oath given only to you.

Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the roar of new machines - the hunt was not over yet. But in this moment, under the protection of Drift, you knew – he would cut out an entire battalion, just to not let you fall again.