Looking at Soundwave tangled up with Sadako's curse, the Ancient One was at a loss for words. What even were these two? They had absolutely nothing to do with each other—how on earth had they gotten mixed up together?
You want to invade Earth? Fine, invade it your own way. But no, you had to snoop. Had to peek at everything, had to know everything. Couldn't resist that curiosity, could you? The Decepticons had held a massive intelligence advantage, and now? She didn't need any spells to figure it out—just basic analysis. Their intelligence chief was compromised. What advantage?
The two were locked in a stalemate. Sadako's curse couldn't kill Soundwave, and Soundwave couldn't delete the strange data entity. Neither could budge the other.
Short of using the Time Stone to rewind both of them, there was no separating them.
She couldn't be bothered.
"Go back where you belong." She drew a circle with her right hand. Golden filaments spun outward through the vacuum, rapidly taking shape. Then, with a gentle push of her left hand, the American military satellite, Soundwave, and the Sadako clone stored in his data storage unit were all sent away together.
Back at the New York Sanctum, she glanced once in the direction of Los Angeles.
She picked up a calligraphy brush and stationery from the desk. Her hand flew across the page, and in moments a letter was finished.
She summoned her attendant. "Wong, please deliver this to Miss Isabella Swan in Los Angeles."
"Yes, Master."
Years of civil war had pushed Cybertron to the brink of death. The only reason the planet hadn't exploded was that Primus still slumbered deep within its core. The energy that seeped from his dormant body kept the world barely alive, but Cybertron would never see its former glory again.
The Ancient One had tossed Soundwave back to Cybertron like yesterday's garbage—a forced spatial displacement with zero warning. His mind was still locked in combat with the Sadako clone, so when the translocation energy hit him with nothing to brace against, the full force slammed into his frame. He blacked out instantly.
The Sadako clone took heavy damage too, but she was a spiritual entity, and Soundwave's hull had shielded her from the worst of it. She was only unconscious for a short while before she came to.
The first thing she realized upon waking was that she could no longer sense her original self. In other words—she was free. She was a full-fledged clone now.
Sadako crawled out of Soundwave's data storage unit, still wearing that slightly grimy white dress, barefoot, long hair hanging over her face.
She made it out—and froze. Pushing the curtain of hair aside, she looked around.
Cybertron's hellscape was beyond anything she'd imagined. Where is this? Is this Hell?
The ground vomited scorching flames. Lightning raged across the sky. In every direction—no plants, no animals, not a single moving thing.
She hesitated, then placed her bare feet on Cybertron's surface. As she did, Neil Armstrong's famous words floated through her mind: That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.
Back on Earth, the real Sadako had snapped awake the instant Soundwave was transported away. Frenzy—the corrupted entity that had been stirring inside her—had gone dormant along with Soundwave, collapsing back into the shape of a videotape.
Sadako stumbled groggily to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and scanned the room. Nothing out of place. The videotape with legs seemed like it had all been a hallucination.
She chalked it up to lingering aftereffects from the evil Sadako's earlier influence. Finding nothing wrong, she washed up and crawled into bed, falling into a deep sleep.
The Ancient One's sorcery had a quality to it—subtle as spring rain, disturbing no one.
Unaware that a Sadako clone had just made landfall on Cybertron, Bella had just gotten home and was about to start making calls.
"You're going to handle this yourself? Lead them to Hoover Dam?" Natasha knew Bella better than anyone, but even she couldn't read her this time.
"Yeah. I want to see what this AllSpark actually is. If it really does belong to Cybertron, then let Optimus take it. Earth has more than enough problems already."
Bella's plan was simple: get Optimus and his crew off-planet as fast as possible. Go back to Cybertron. Fight your war there. Blow the planet apart, wake up Primus—she didn't care. Just stop dragging Earth into it.
Watching the movies was a blast—Autobots and Decepticons smashing into each other, looking all cool and heroic. But how many ordinary people died in the crossfire every single time?
At the end of each film, Optimus would team up with the humans to defeat the Decepticons, then stand silhouetted against the sunset delivering some grand speech about freedom and unity. Very inspiring. Completely useless. By the next sequel, the military was hunting the Autobots again, and the Decepticons were scheming in the shadows again.
The U.S. military and the Autobots were fundamentally incompatible. The military always came down hard on the Autobots while tiptoeing around the Decepticons. It was an absurd loop: Decepticons attack the military, the military chases the Autobots, the Autobots fight the Decepticons.
Exhausting just to think about. Bella didn't have the clout to sway the military or the corporate interests pulling their strings. She had zero interest in playing that game. Getting every last Cybertronian off Earth was the best solution.
"Sector Seven still has a lot of agents on-site. What's your plan?" Natasha looked eager—practically daring Bella to try cutting her out.
Bella obviously wasn't going to storm in with Brotherhood elites. That was a joke. Attacking Sector Seven would put them on par with terrorists, and the cost would be insane. She wasn't about to sacrifice her own people for the Autobots' sake.
Having Natasha call in S.H.I.E.L.D. was also a bad idea. S.H.I.E.L.D. leaked like a sieve—any scrap of intel that went through them ended up public knowledge within hours.
"I know a guy named Quentin Beck. He does incredible CGI work. Between his effects, a few artifacts I have on hand, my illusion magic, and the Autobots' tech, we can put on a very convincing show for Sector Seven's people…"
The earthquake that struck Nevada had dealt serious damage to Hoover Dam. The worst of it had hit California, but the San Andreas fault's tectonic shift had rattled neighboring Nevada hard too.
The secret military base beneath the dam had been designed with the San Andreas fault in mind—deliberately placed outside the primary seismic zone and reinforced with extraordinarily thick walls. The quake had only produced a few hairline cracks. Not even close to enough for Megatron to break free.
Megatron hadn't escaped. But the Serron invasion had left Sector Seven in an embarrassing position. Founded during the Hoover administration, spanning over eighty years of operation and costing untold billions, the organization had failed to salvage even a shred of credibility for the U.S. government or the Pentagon.
The agents and scientists at Sector Seven were equally frustrated. The alien they'd been studying was nothing like the aliens that had actually invaded. What were they supposed to do about that?