The portal ripped open above the Clay junkyard, spitting out sparks of unstable energy. Out of the vortex stepped him—tall, sleek, and impossibly smug. Starscream spread his wings with theatrical flair, his optics glinting like a predator savoring the moment.

“Starscream?!” Bumblebee shouted, bracing for a fight, voice caught somewhere between shock and dread. “What do you want?”

Starscream’s smirk curved into something razor-sharp. He tilted his head, optics narrowing. Then, with a voice both silk-smooth and venomous, he answered: “You.” His tone dripped with arrogance, layered with mockery, like he already owned the battlefield—and Bumblebee’s fate along with it.