Nathan paused at the edge of the hangar, his optics lingering on the four units under his command. "One final directive," he rumbled. "If an organic enters this facility and detects your presence, you neutralize them instantly. They are to be detained without any outbound signal-transmission. Am I clear?"
"Crystal clear, Commander!" the four chimed in unison.
The warehouse was cluttered with rusted vats and heavy machinery—perfect cover for an E-series drone in vehicle mode. As long as they didn't initiate any unauthorized thermal spikes, no local scavenger would ever suspect they were anything more than scrap metal.
Nathan had no further instructions. He didn't care about their confusion; he only cared about his own tactical autonomy. "Execute your protocols. Do not deviate from this sector."
Before E-13 could ask for a specific sweep-pattern for Megatron, Nathan ignited his thrusters and vaulted into the air. Mid-flight, his chassis shifted with a series of heavy metallic snaps, reconfiguring into the sleek black interceptor. He banked hard, breaking the sound barrier as he streaked back toward the west.
Behind him, the drones stared at the fading ionized trail. They exchanged a brief series of binary clicks before dispersing into the Florida night, retreating into the shadows of the factory to begin their own automated search-routines.
Nathan wasn't returning to the Nevada base. He angled his flight-path south of the Kernas Canyon, pushing his engines to their thermal limit. Two hours later, a massive silver ribbon appeared on the horizon, shimmering under the moonlight.
Hoover Dam.
From thirty thousand feet, the dam looked like a concrete scar across the Colorado River. Nathan circled the area, his long-range optics focusing on the structure. The dam was a marvel of terrestrial engineering, but its true significance was buried beneath its foundations.
He descended toward a nearby mountain peak, his landing struts crushing a massive boulder into gravel. He didn't care about the noise; the wind through the canyon was loud enough to mask a thunderclap.
Nathan activated his thermal and night-vision overlays. From the outside, the dam was a tourist trap—an innocuous civil project. Thousands of humans walked its crest every day, never suspecting that a government shadow-agency, Section 7, was operating a high-security research facility directly beneath their feet.
The greatest secrets are hidden in plain sight, Nathan mused.
He focused his scanners on a nearby power-substation. He knew Section 7 used massive amounts of energy to keep Megatron in a state of perpetual cryo-stasis. The substation's output was diverted into the dam's internal grid, fueling the liquid nitrogen pumps that prevented the High Protector from awakening.
He could smell the ozone and hear the hum of high-voltage transformers. For a moment, he considered a sabotage run—one well-placed missile into the substation would kill the cooling cycles and wake the King of the Decepticons.
But Nathan dismissed the thought. Rescuing Megatron doesn't benefit me. It just gives me another master to grovel to.
He needed the AllSpark. But the artifact's signature was missing. Section 7 had shielded the vault with specialized radiation-dampeners, effectively erasing the AllSpark from the electromagnetic spectrum.
"I need a way in," Nathan whispered, his optics dimming as he analyzed the singular access road leading to the dam's restricted zones.
He noted the security patrols and the black SUVs of the Section 7 agents. His plan was forming: he needed to scan a local government vehicle and spoof the biometric clearance. If he could slip in as a 'ghost' in the logistics chain, he could reach the vault without firing a single shot.
Las Vegas. Nevada.
The city of sin was a neon wound in the desert. Nathan stood on the rooftop of a corporate skyscraper, his silhouette cloaked in active optical camouflage. Below him, the streets were a river of luxury cars and desperate tourists—a cacophony of greed and desire.
A beautiful, chaotic mess, Nathan thought, looking down at the "City that Never Sleeps."
In his past life, he would have found the sight exhausting. Now, as a machine, he found it fascinating. The humans were so fragile, yet they built such vibrant monuments to their own indulgence.
"Time to get to work," he grunted.
He walked toward the skyscraper's primary telecommunications array. With a casual strike, he disabled the physical security and tore open the primary data-bus. He didn't bother with a wireless hack; he wanted the raw bandwidth of the fiber-optics.
He retracted a small panel on his chest, deploying a high-speed data-interface. He seized a handful of fiber-optic cables and jammed them into his port.
[ WARNING: EXTERNAL DATA-FEED DETECTED ]
[ AUTHORIZING... DOWNLOADING... ]
A tidal wave of information slammed into his cerebral module. Images, news reports, government archives, and military logs flickered through his vision at speeds no human mind could perceive. He was mapping the current state of the world, searching for the names of Section 7 directors and the fleet-schedules for Hoover Dam.
If the answer was in the net, T-22 would have it before the sun rose.