Nathan positioned the Steel Ravage's chassis on the diagnostic table, assisting Scalpel as the doctor integrated the logic-chip and the synthetic energy matrix. The process was a high-fidelity tutorial in Decepticon cyber-biology, and Nathan recorded every micro-calibration to his permanent memory.
"The construct is synchronized," Scalpel rasped, retracting his manipulators. "Now, we monitor the logic-path initialization. I have high confidence in the matrix, but recursive-coding on a synthetic frame always carries a 4% risk of spark-rejection."
Nathan stood back, his optics focused on the silent metallic beast. While it was technically a drone, a 'pet' in the Decepticon lexicon, it was also his first loyal subordinate, hardwired to his unique frequency. He felt a rare surge of systemic anticipation.
The wait was brief. Under the watchful glare of both High-Tier veterans, the Steel Ravage's chassis suddenly hummed with power. A pair of intense, predatory red optics flared to life.
The panther raised its heavy, armored head and focused on Nathan. It lowered its chassis in a gesture of absolute subjugation.
[ SYSTEM VOICE: ACKNOWLEDGED. ]
"Commander Skygnaw," the panther's vocalizer projected, a low, guttural growl. "Unit reporting for deployment. My primary directive is synchronized to your frequency."
Nathan tilted his head-casing, a rhythmic click emanating from his vocalizer. "The logic-path is stable. Designate this unit: Steel Ravage."
"Directive processed. I am Steel Ravage."
A freshly sparked Cybertronian, even one with pre-programmed logic, possessed only basic independent processing. Like a new T-series drone, it required a period of sensory integration and battlefield learning to optimize its functions. For now, Steel Ravage stood silent, a cold machine waiting for its next instruction.
Nathan initiated a full multi-spectral scan of his new asset. Steel Ravage was a significant escalation from a standard terrestrial panther—over two meters long and standing a meter high at the shoulder. Its frame was a masterclass in Decepticon brutality: heavy, reinforced limbs, micro-vibro claws capable of shredding standard armor, and a whip-like tail ending in a high-frequency stinger. Its massive jaws were lined with jagged, self-sharpening alloy teeth.
These visible tools, however, were only the beginning. Nathan knew that the unbranded armored plating on the panther's back concealed a localized, high-output laser cannon for precision kinetic strikes.
"Primal-spec industrial lethality," Nathan mused. "An optimal scout configuration."
He needed to test the morphological transition. "Steel Ravage. Reconfigure to bipedal specs."
"Acknowledged, Commander."
CH-CH-KLK.
The heavy plates shifted, the predatory frame morphing into a bipedal silhouette. Within seconds, a miniature humanoid robot stood before them, barely two meters tall—the size of a large human male. The aesthetics were unrefined, built from salvaged clone components, giving it a rough, utilitarian appearance.
Nathan noted the compaction. This size was tactical. As Skygnaw, standing at eight meters, infiltration into human structures was impossible. Steel Ravage was his variable—a unit that could bypass sensors, enter ventilation systems, and navigate a human environment with ease.
The panther alt-mode, with a speed exceeding 100 kph, provided rapid mobility, while the humanoid form was optimized for close-quarters subversion. Integrated into the mainframe was a specialized Deep-Data Siphon Module, capable of executing logic-bombs, data-wiping, and wide-spectrum SIGINT interception. Steel Ravage was essentially a tactical间谍 (間諜 - spy) unit, though lacking the sophisticated Quantum Harmonic technology of Soundwave's specialized Cassette Corps.
While Nathan was testing the integration, Scalpel finished calibrating a secondary device. He scuttled over, holding a small metallic box.
"A Mass Displacement Field-Generator," Scalpel rasped. "Install it. It has already been synchronized to Steel Ravage's core."
Mass Displacement was a standard, yet sophisticated, Decepticon technology. It allowed a frame to reconfigure while shunting its excess mass—everything but the spark-matrix and core components—into a localized sub-space sub-folder within the chest cavity. The result was a morphological shift that reduced the physical size of the frame to as little as one-tenth of its original volume while maintaining its operational integrity.
"The ultimate containment strategy," Nathan thought as he observed the installation. He could already map the strategic utility. In a high-risk sector, he could keep a "legion in his chest," ready to be shunted into the physical plane for a sudden numerical advantage.
He dismissed the idea of human-wave tactics against High-Tier warriors, but for localized control, it was optimal. He thought of Soundwave, who used an advanced Quantum Harmonic Resonance technology to shant up to ten of his specialized 'Cassettes'—data-energy hybrids—into his chest sub-space. Soundwave didn't use mass displacement; he used data-transmutation, a technology unique to his designation as Spymaster.
"This will suffice for the current operation," Nathan decided.
California. Los Angeles. Marshall High School.
Inside a typical American classroom, the educational machine was processing its students. Today was the designated History: Personal Heritage presentation cycle, and Sam Witwicky was at the podium.
The presentation began badly. The moment Sam took the stage, a rubber band, expertly shot from the back of the room, slammed into his neck.
"Ow!" Sam recoiled, his hand clapping to the sting. "Seriously?"
"Who did that? Reveal yourself!" The teacher, Theodore Collyer, erupted. He was an intense man with thin hair and thick glasses. "My classroom is a designated zone of operational academic respect! You people need to develop some historical perspective!"
Theodore glared at the room, received zero confessions, and eventually sighed, resetting his glasses. He motioned for Sam to continue.
Sam took a deep breath, fighting the internal spike of anxiety. "Okay... uh, so, for my heritage report, I'm detailing the operational history of my great-grandfather. He was a distinguished individual. Captain Archibald Witwicky, a decorated explorer."
Sam proceeded to narrate a high-stakes account of Archibald's life, filling the story with tales of oceanic adventure and Arctic peril. He felt the room standardizing on his story—until the presentation shifted into a logistics update.
"...and that concludes the narrative portion. I have in my inventory several functional artifacts from his final mission." Sam began pulling items from his backpack, lining them up on the lectern like a flea market vendor.
"Behold, a genuine 19th-century quadrant. Optimal functionality. Asking price: eighty USD. And here, a functional sextant. Fifty USD. A value-proposition you cannot ignore!"
"And this," Sam held up a pair of aged, round-framed spectacles, "is the asset-leader. My great-grandfather's glasses. They witnessed his operational apex. I have not yet established a formal valuation, but market metrics suggest a premium—"
"Sam!" Theodore barked, cutting him off. "This is an academic theater for the 11th grade, not an open-market bazaar!"
"I... I know, Mr. Collyer. But my automotive acquisition fund requires liquidity." Sam paused, then doubled down, ignoring the teacher's agitation. He held up a yellowed newspaper.
"The tactical situation changed after he returned. Captain Archibald wasn't just an explorer; he was a pioneer. He claimed to have identified a 'Non-Biological Extraterrestrial'—a giant made of ice. He even laser-etched critical data onto the lenses of his glasses! They may hold the key to an historical anomaly... or a total psychological collapse. Either way, the coordinate-etched lenses are a unique asset!"