In the crude oil storage area, Nathan descended from the sky with his four drones in tow.
The scene below was one of absolute carnage. Massive storage tanks were buckled and leaning at impossible angles. Crude oil leaked from ruptured seams, mixing with industrial debris and fueling a roaring, crackling inferno.
Nathan marveled at the localized destruction. This was the raw power of two Elite-class Cybertronians cutting loose. Yet, despite the noise and the time that had passed, not a single human soul had come to investigate. Whether the refinery was too vast or the internal security had been neutralized, it felt eerily abandoned.
"Forget it. I need to find Barricade first," Nathan muttered, shaking off the stray thoughts.
His priority was a clean extraction. If Bumblebee decided to pull a U-turn and return to finish the job, Nathan might be able to fly away, but a crippled Barricade would be a sitting duck.
He led his drones through the maze of twisted steel until a faint, rhythmic groaning caught his sensors. Beneath the shadow of a collapsed tank, he found him.
Barricade was sprawled in the dirt. Tiny, mantis-like internal repair droids were skittering across his shattered plating, trying desperately to seal his leaking fuel lines. Bumblebee hadn't delivered the killing blow; after hearing Sam's scream, the Scout had abandoned the fight to protect his ward, leaving the Decepticon to rot in the ruins of his own failure.
As the heavy thud of Nathan's footsteps approached, Barricade used a trembling arm to prop himself up.
"Skygnaw..."
"Lord Barricade. I'm here."
Nathan stared at the wreck of the elite warrior, a chill running through his processors. He had played it smart in the parking lot by staying at range; if he had let the Scout get close, he'd be in pieces right now.
Barricade's optics flickered with fury, but it was quickly replaced by a hollow, soul-deep exhaustion. He was a mess of broken pride and self-doubt. He had been resurrected by Soundwave for this hunt, only to be dismantled by his oldest rival. Even the flails he'd custom-forged for this fight were now just twisted scrap.
Without a word of blame or explanation, Barricade staggered to his feet and shifted into his police cruiser form. The car was mangled, the chassis misaligned, and the engine coughed with a metallic wheeze as he limped away at a crawl.
Nathan watched the "Coward King" of the future disappear into the darkness. He understood. Only those who have stared into the abyss of total extinction truly learn to value survival over glory. Tonight, Barricade had looked into that abyss.
"Let's go. We're done here."
Nathan took to the sky, leading E-13 and the others into the clouds. The mission was an undeniable failure. A High-Tier warrior simply didn't have the output to sway a fight between two Elites.
On the return flight, Nathan sent a burst-transmission to Soundwave, reporting the fallout. Since Barricade had essentially walked off the job to lick his wounds, the administrative cleanup fell to him.
The yellow Camaro slowed to a crawl. Seeing that Sam was safe, Bumblebee let out a burst of static-relieved air from his vents. He had seen the Decepticon jets flee, and for the moment, the mission was secure.
A few yards away from the humans, Bumblebee transformed back into his bipedal form.
"What is it doing?" Mikaela whispered, her throat dry. The sheer physical presence of the machine was suffocating.
Sam stood his ground. He'd lived with this car for days; he'd sat in its "stomach" while it drove him to safety.
"It looks... smart," Sam muttered, half to Mikaela and half to himself. "But it's different. Super advanced. I think it's a secret government project from another country. That has to be it. I must have some state secret, and that's why the cop-robot and the planes are after me..."
Mikaela didn't look convinced. "It's coming closer. What do we do?"
Bumblebee stopped a respectful distance away, his hands on his hips. He stood tall, the moonlight glinting off his yellow armor.
"I don't think he'll hurt us," Sam said, finding a spark of courage. "He's had plenty of chances. He fought that cop to save us."
"Can you talk to him?" Mikaela asked. "You heard him... he was talking to the other one before they started fighting."
Sam stepped forward, peering at the robot's face. It was expressive, almost boyish, with blue-green optics that lacked the predatory crimson glare of the Decepticons.
"Can you speak?" Sam asked.
"...Satellite radio... digital broadcast system..."
A series of voices—news anchors and movie clips—erupted from Bumblebee's chest in perfect English.
Sam's eyes lit up. He pointed at the sky. "You talk through the radio?"
"Thank you! You got it!" the radio chirped, followed by the sound of applause.
Without the threat of the Decepticons, Bumblebee's playful nature returned. He did a little celebratory hop and clapped his hands.
"Then... what was that?" Sam asked, gesturing to the ruins. "And last night? At the junk yard?"
"...Message from Starfleet Command... visitors from space descend like a flock of angels..."
"What? Visitors from space?" Mikaela cut in. "You're... an alien?"
Bumblebee didn't answer with words. He shifted back into the Camaro and swung the doors open. "Any more questions?"
"He wants us to get in," Sam said.
"To go where?" Mikaela asked, hesitating.
Sam looked at her. "Fifty years from now, when you're looking back at your life, do you want to say you didn't have the guts to get in this car?"
They locked eyes for a long moment before stepping forward together.
Near a patch of scrub brush in the refinery, a discarded backpack lay surrounded by spilled school supplies. Not far away, a severed mechanical head was dragging itself through the dirt.
Frenzy had survived. Using three spindly tentacles that had sprouted from his neck, he hauled his head toward the backpack. He recognized it; it belonged to the girl.
He found a mobile phone in the side pocket.
Scanning the data, Frenzy mapped the architecture of the local electronic device. He tossed the original phone aside and reconfigured his own mass until he was a perfect, blue-and-white replica. He lay perfectly still, waiting.
Minutes later, the headlights of a yellow Camaro swept over the grass. The car stopped, and Mikaela stepped out to retrieve her bag. She scooped up the phone and tossed it inside, unaware she was carrying a Decepticon spy into the heart of the Autobot camp.