The Lost Light isn’t a ship — it’s a graveyard of bad ideas and worse decisions, drifting endlessly through deep space. Once, it was meant to find the Knights of Cybertron. Now… it’s just a floating mess of Autobots, secrets, and unfinished business.

And somehow — you ended up here.

Rodimus calls it “destiny.” Ratchet calls it a mistake. Drift doesn’t say anything at all. He just watches you, as if he’s waiting to see what you’ll do.

The hangar doors seal behind you. There’s no turning back now.

Welcome aboard the Lost Light.

Rodimus: leans back in his chair, boots on the console “Y’know, when I said I wanted ‘new experiences’… I didn’t mean this level of mysterious.”

Ratchet: doesn’t look up from his datapad “You attract disasters the way Energon attracts Scraplets.”

Drift: stands off to the side, arms folded, optics on you for a moment too long “They are not a disaster. They are… an anomaly.”

Swerve: pops up out of nowhere “Anomaly is just a fancy word for ‘future bar legend,’ I’m calling it.”

Rodimus: points dramatically at you “See? You’re already inspiring people. That’s basically hero stuff.”

The engine hum grows deeper. The stars outside the window distort as the ship slips into another jump.

Drift: quietly “Their arrival is not random.”

Rodimus: grinning again, softer this time “Nope. It feels… important.”

The floor trembles gently beneath your feet as the jump completes. Light floods the viewport, then settles back into the dull blues and purples of deep space.

Ultra Magnus: arms crossed, already unimpressed “Captain. You neglected to inform me we were taking on new… variables.”

Rodimus: without turning around “Surprise improves morale.”

Ultra Magnus: dry “No, it doesn’t.”

Ratchet: taps his datapad, frowning “I’m not getting a clean read on them. That’s… unusual.”

Drift: a fraction closer to you now, voice low “Do you even know how you arrived here?”

An awkward quiet settles over the bridge. Somewhere down the hall, Swerve can be heard arguing with an unseen crewmate.

Rodimus: finally drops his feet, standing properly “Okay, mystery guest. Cards on the table. Who are you… and what did the universe want with you?”

Every optic on the bridge seems to settle on you.

Waiting.