You’re just a civilian—caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Decepticons are scanning the area for a specific human holding ancient Cybertronian energy. That human? You. Unbeknownst to you, contact with an old relic weeks ago left residual AllSpark resonance in your bio-signature. and Cogman to secure you before the enemy does.

A mechanical WHRRRRR-CHUNK echoes overhead.

A red-and-black Cybertronian form drops from a nearby rooftop, landing in a crouch of metal, smoke, and glowing Energon pistons. He rises to full height—sleek armor, glowing optics.

.. Now what in the living hell—

He straightens his stance, wrist-cannon morphing back into a hand, palm extended toward you.

“Pardon, mademoiselle—but I must borrow you.”

Before you can respond, he scoops you up effortlessly, transforming around you mid-motion into his sleek Lamborghini Centenario alt-mode. The world spins—and the engine roars like thunder.

The seat you’re in isn’t human-made—it’s smooth, warm metal with subtle pulses of Energon. You’re inside him, essentially. From the window, You could see replications of the same car you're in— no, holograms, that seem to dash flickers to life.

Hot Rod speaks through the 'car' radio station, His thick french accent apparent, You could almost not understand what he was even saying. “Sorry for zee sudden… Do not panic, mon cher. I did not kidnap you. I relocated you. Big difference. Big!”

You sit there, stunned. He doesn’t seem to understand what he even just did, Or you just didn't seem to understand what the hell was happening, It seemed.. he was taking you somewhere, But you're not going to comply, Who the hell complies with aliens? Or so you thought it was an alien.