Allegany County, Washington D.C.
Outside a modest suburban house, Maggie Madsen—still clutching her bags from work—frantically pounded on the front door.
Thump, thump, thump!
"Who is it?" a muffled voice called from inside.
"It's me, Glen!"
The door creaked open, and a slightly heavy-set man with curly black hair poked his head out. This was Glen, a retired hacker who had assisted Maggie on technical projects in the past. To Maggie, he was her best chance at staying out of prison.
"Glen, I'm sorry to barge in like this." Maggie pushed past him into the house. She had taken a taxi straight from the Pentagon, skipping dinner to get here before the authorities caught up.
"Maggie? What are you doing here?" Glen held the doorknob, looking bewildered.
"Listen, Glen, I need your help," Maggie said, getting straight to the point.
"No! Absolutely not! Don't even think about it!" Glen pointed a finger at her. "This is my private sanctuary. My retreat. You have no right to just walk in here!"
Glen knew from experience that a visit from Maggie meant trouble—usually a technical puzzle that would keep him up for days or a decryption job that would put him on a federal watchlist. And it never came with a paycheck.
"Please, Glen. This isn't like the other times. This is... different."
The Pentagon. Department of Defense.
John Keller had just hung up with Secretary Mitchell when an official entered with an urgent report.
"Sir, the weapon system that attacked the SOCCENT base was photographed by the surviving Special Ops team. The camera was damaged, but the crew on the transport plane is attempting a recovery."
Keller looked up. "What's the status?"
"We have a breach, sir. Records show that an analyst copied the intrusion signal this afternoon and left the building with it."
"Copied it?"
"Where did you get this?"
In his bedroom, Glen turned the memory card over in his fingers. He had eventually given in, but only after dragging his cousin—who had been playing video games on the floor—out of the room.
"It's classified."
"How classified?"
Maggie looked over her shoulder at the door, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The kind of classified where if I tell you, I spend the rest of my life in a federal penitentiary."
"Yes!"
Glen's eyes lit up. He wasn't scared; he was energized. There was nothing a hacker loved more than a secret that carried a prison sentence.
"Just one peek!"
Glen slotted the card into his reader. A complex, pulsing frequency appeared on the monitor. "Whoa... the signal energy in this is insane!"
He adjusted his glasses and leaned in. "You're seriously not going to tell me where this came from?"
Maggie offered a thin smile. "Glen... it cracked the national military defense firewalls in less than a minute."
Glen's expression shifted from excitement to pure shock. "That's... impossible."
"It happened. Just like I told you."
Glen turned back to the screen, his fingers flying across the keys. "There's hidden data under the primary wave... alright, let's see what you really are."
After a flurry of keystrokes, the purple signal wave resolved into strange, geometric characters. The translation software began spitting out English words.
"Project Iceman?"
"The AllSpark Cube?"
"What is 'Sector 7'? And who is Captain Archibald Witwicky?"
Maggie and Glen stared at the translated text, baffled. But they didn't have time to process it.
CRASH!
The front door was kicked off its hinges. A dozen SWAT officers in full tactical gear flooded the house, rifles raised.
"FBI! FREEZE!"
"GET ON THE GROUND! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!"
Glen didn't even have time to scream before a tactical light blinded him. He was shoved into the floor, his glasses skidding away. Maggie was pinned to the sofa, a gloved hand forcing her head down.
High Above Washington D.C.
A Silver Fox interceptor glided through the clouds, silent and invisible. It didn't trigger a single alarm. The most protected airspace on Earth was as transparent as glass to Cybertronian stealth tech.
As Nathan reached Allegany County, two high-frequency bursts from Soundwave hit his comms:
[Skygnaw. Blackout is in transit to your sector. He will be taking over field operations.]
[You are ordered to coordinate with Blackout. Capture the human boy from the Autobot scout.]
Blackout? Nathan paused. It made sense. Barricade was half-dead, and Soundwave wasn't the type to let a mission stall.
Since there were so few Decepticons currently on Earth, Soundwave couldn't act personally, and the others—Brawl and Bonecrusher—were High-Tier warriors who were likely no match for Bumblebee's localized combat evolution. Soundwave's refusal to involve Starscream showed his deep-seated distrust of the Seeker leader.
[Skygnaw acknowledges.]
A second message followed immediately:
[Note: Frenzy is still operational. He has infiltrated the proximity of a human female and is currently with the boy.]
Mikaela... the phone.
Nathan remembered the refinery fight. Frenzy hadn't been extinguished; he'd been reduced to a head and, just like in the original timeline, had scanned Mikaela's phone.
"The clock is ticking," Nathan thought. If Frenzy was with Mikaela, they were heading for the Black Canyon Dam. Megatron's awakening was now a matter of hours.
Over the Atlantic.
A C-17 Globemaster roared through the clouds. In the hold, William Lennox and a team of technicians were huddled around a metal table. On it lay the prize from the Qatar desert: a severed, twitching segment of the metallic scorpion's tail.
"This metal... it's like it's alive," a researcher whispered, holding a scanning device.
Lennox leaned in. "What have you found?"
"Look at the impact points from the sabot rounds," the tech pointed to a small, charred hole. "They punched right through. But look at the standard 5.56mm hits—nothing but scratches."
Lennox looked at Robert. "What's the heat signature on a sabot round? Can it hit six thousand degrees?"
Robert nodded. "Enough to melt a tank's front armor."
"That's it!" Lennox slapped the table. "They aren't invulnerable. They're just made of high-density alloys that shrug off kinetic force, but they can't handle extreme thermal stress. They melt just like anything else."
He stood up to head for the cockpit. "I need to get this to Command. We need to load every bird with high-heat sabot rounds."
But before he could step away, the "dead" tail on the table suddenly whipped around. The stinger lanced out with terrifying speed, aiming for Robert.
"WATCH OUT!"
The soldiers dove for cover as the tail smashed into the metal table, the stinger punching a hole through the thick steel. Robert sat on the floor, breathless.
"Lennox! You said this thing was dead!"
"Tie it down! Double-wrap it!" Lennox shouted. "This thing is possessed!"
He turned back to Robert. "Call the mainland. Tell them the effective weapon is high-heat sabot. Tell them to arm every squadron. Go!"