In the Witwicky yard, Agent Simmons's field team and research personnel were operating at maximum capacity. Flashlights cut through the darkness as agents performed a systemic asset retrieval, extracting soil samples and biological specimens into hermetically sealed containment bags.
Inside the living room, Judy Witwicky was in a state of high-amplitude biological distress. "Ronald! Who are these people? Why are they deconstructing our landscaping?"
"They're taking the roses, Ron! Do something!"
Simmons ignored the domestic protest, scanning the room's structural layout with clinical indifference. "Your son initiated an emergency signal last night—technically this morning—reporting a grand theft auto. We have reason to believe this event is a localized threat to national security."
"National security?" Ronald repeated, his skepticism reaching a peak.
"Indeed."
"What's going on?" Sam stepped into the room, Mikaela trailing behind him.
Simmons's face split into a predatory grin. "Ah, the primary asset. Sam Witwicky. Descendant of the Explorer."
Sam stared at the black-clad agents filling his home. "Yeah. That's me."
"I appreciate the biometric confirmation, kid. But you're coming with us. Immediate transit. No deviations."
"Negative," Ronald stepped between them, his protective instinct overriding his fear of the badges. "You aren't taking my son without a verified legal warrant."
Mojo, his bandaged leg twitching, sat in front of Sam and let out a series of defiant yaps.
"Resistance?" Simmons sighed, gesturing to his team. "Sir, step aside. We've been remarkably accommodating thus far."
"I'm calling the local authorities! This is a violation of—"
"Actually, sir, you're right. Something is a violation here." Simmons signaled for his agents to stand down. "You, your son, the girl... even the canine with the questionable neck-wear."
As Simmons began his intimidation routine, his second-in-command, Agent Ryan, sprinted in from the perimeter.
"Sir! Bio-scan confirms direct contact!"
"Verification?"
Simmons took the handheld scanner from Ryan, his eyes widening as the readout flashed: [ 14 RAD-EQUIV UNITS ].
"We have a hit!" Simmons barked. "Tag the assets. Initiate extraction now!"
Brook Bridge. Los Angeles.
A four-vehicle convoy of black SUVs accelerated across the bridge, their sirens silent to avoid civilian curiosity. In the lead vehicle, Simmons held up a sealed evidence bag containing a mobile device.
"Sam Witwicky. LadiesMan217. A very... stylized digital handle."
In the back seat, Mikaela looked at Sam. "What is he talking about?"
"It's my eBay username," Sam muttered, his wrists secured with high-tensile zip-ties. The biological discomfort was secondary to his growing sense of dread.
"Then explain the metadata on this device," Simmons said, turning the flip-phone toward them. He hit 'Play'.
"...my car is alive... it's an autonomous mechanical entity..."
Simmons snapped the phone shut. "This was you, right?"
Sam remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floorboards.
"And last night, at the precinct, you claimed your transport reconfigured itself. Care to elaborate for the record?"
"Listen," Sam looked up, his voice steadying. "The 'living car' thing... the video... it was a sub-optimal attempt at viral marketing. A prank. It's all a misunderstanding."
"Is it?" Simmons asked, clearly unimpressed. "Our department doesn't mobilize from a high-security dam four hundred miles away for 'pranks'."
"I bought a used car. It drifted out of the garage. But it's back now. Systems are normal," Sam lied.
"It didn't 'drift' back, Sam," Mikaela interrupted, her mechanical mind refusing to accept the lie. "Cars don't return to base on their own."
"Exactly!" Sam pivoted. "It's absurd! The whole idea is a logical fallacy!"
The two teenagers shared a brittle, nervous laugh. Simmons joined in, his smile cold and artificial.
Suddenly, his expression went flat. "How much do you know about Non-Biological Entities? About the 'visitors'?"
"Aliens?" Sam blinked. "Like the Mars movies? That's fiction, right?"
Simmons withdrew his gold-and-silver badge—his omnipotence credentials. "Kid, I have the authority to erase your digital and physical footprint. If you don't provide the location of the artifacts, you'll spend your remaining cycles in a subterranean cell."
"Hey!" Mikaela shouted. "Stop threatening him! You're only acting like this because if you return to base with zero yield, you're getting demoted to mall security!"
Simmons turned his gaze on her. "Watch your tone, Miss Banes. Especially since your father's parole hearing is approaching. It would be a shame if his 'high-value delinquent profile' was updated to include 'father of a federal fugitive'."
Mikaela's face went pale, her anger replaced by a cold fear for her family.
"Auto theft. Delinquency. You're a repeat offender, Miss Banes. And if your lack of cooperation sends Sam here to a black-site, that makes you a—"
Simmons didn't finish. The scanner on the dashboard began to oscillate wildly: [ 42 RAD-EQUIV UNITS ].
CRASH.
The roof of the SUV was shredded like parchment. A massive mechanical hand reached through the opening, lifting the three-ton vehicle into the air as the occupants let out a high-amplitude acoustic panic.
The world blurred into a nauseating centrifuge for several seconds before the vehicle slammed back onto the asphalt near the riverbank. Before Simmons could draw his sidearm, the roof was peeled back, exposing the occupants to the moonlight.
Standing over them was a ten-meter-tall titan of blue and red steel.
"You individuals are in a state of severe tactical compromise," Sam shouted, his excitement overriding his bindings. "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my associate: Optimus Prime!"
Simmons stared up at the Ten-Meter High-Protector, his worldview finally collapsing.
"Humans," Optimus rumbled, his voice shaking the remaining glass in the SUV's frames. "You have no jurisdiction over these children. They are under my protection."
Brook Bridge. Upper Deck.
The remaining three SUVs screeched to a halt as they witnessed their lead vehicle being snatched by a mechanical blur.
"Contact! Contact!" Agent Ryan roared, assuming command of the remaining detachment. "Deploy the high-heat munitions! Lock and load!"
Ryan had spent years studying the 'Iceman' at Hoover Dam. He knew exactly what he was looking at. "Call for immediate aerial support from Belkos Joint Base! Tell the interceptors we have a confirmed NBE-Type 1 engagement!"
A dozen agents in charcoal suits swarmed down the embankment, their carbines leveled at the giant. "Do not move! Power down your systems!"
"Ryan! Good initiative!" Simmons called out from the wreckage.
But the celebration was short-lived.
From the shadows of the bridge pillars, the rest of the vanguard emerged. Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Ratchet stepped into the light, their weapons reconfiguring with a series of rhythmic, metallic clacks.
The thirteen agents found themselves in the center of a localized mechanical kill-box. The situation had inverted.