The plan involved two battlefields. Skygnaw had placed one of them in Japan.
The reasoning was simple: If a location had to be chosen to bait the trap, why not there?
"Onslaught, take Brawl and the others. Do not forget your objective."
"By your command, Lord Skygnaw."
Under Skygnaw's orders, Onslaught led Brawl, Acid Storm, Sunstorm, and a dozen low-level Seeker clones out of the Alaskan wilderness, heading toward the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. Meanwhile, the Four Horsemen—Carnage, Famine, Pestilence, and Catastrophe—deployed to Japan.
Once his pieces were in position, Skygnaw contacted the most critical link in the chain: Secretary Clarice.
[COMM: Madam Secretary. Rest assured, my target is solely the Autobots. There will be no collateral damage to your assets. You want advanced weapons technology? I guarantee you, after this... it is yours.]
Kindred spirits? Far from it. To Skygnaw, Clarice was a tool; to Clarice, the Decepticon was a dangerous but profitable necessity.
Los Angeles. Tucson 8th Street.
A pristine, yellow Camaro with black racing stripes rolled slowly to a stop in front of a two-story white house. In the garage on the first floor, a middle-aged man wiped grease from his hands and lit a cigarette as he watched the car.
"Dad, Sam's here! I'm going out for a bit!"
Mikaela Banes hurried down the stairs, the rusted iron steps groaning under her weight. The second floor was a wooden addition to the original concrete structure, a humble home for a girl whose life had been anything but ordinary for the past year.
"I'll be back before dark!" she called out, heading for the Camaro.
Mikaela was nearing graduation. In less than two weeks, her high school days would be over. Due to their tight finances, she hadn't planned on college; instead, she intended to stay and help her father in the shop.
Inside the car, Sam Witwicky scrambled to grab a bouquet of roses from the backseat. As Mikaela opened the door, he thrust them forward. "For you, Mikaela."
"Thank you, Sam." Mikaela beamed, her eyes softening. Her sometimes-clueless boyfriend had actually remembered the occasion.
"Hop in. Your dad is giving me the look again."
Even after a year, Sam still felt a phantom itch of fear whenever Mikaela's father looked at him, especially when those tattooed arms were crossed. He shifted the Camaro into gear and pulled away.
Today was their one-year anniversary. They planned to spend the entire day celebrating their survival and their love. Over the past year, they had faced joy, trauma, and plenty of arguments, but they had endured.
Sam knew they were an odd match. Mikaela was passionate, fire-natured, and stunning—a magnet for attention. He was... Sam. Awkward, average, and prone to panic. His only real "pro" was that he had once saved the world. He was heading to a university in LA soon; a prestigious school with a $40,000-a-year tuition. A "silent benefactor"—the US government—was picking up the tab.
Under the watchful eye of Mikaela's father, the Camaro roared off.
Bumblebee ferried the couple through their planned itinerary. However, halfway through the afternoon, the radio began to crackle with a specific frequency.
"Bumblebee? What is it? You mean... you have to go fight Decepticons?" Mikaela asked, leaning forward as the car pulled to the curb.
"Affirmative," Bumblebee responded through his radio clips, his tone devoid of its usual playful warmth. The loss of Jazz still weighed heavily on his processors; his hatred for Megatron had transitioned into a tireless crusade against all remaining Decepticons.
"Alright. Be safe, Bee," Sam said, sounding disappointed but understanding. "And tell Optimus I said hi."
Since the battle at Mission City, Sam hadn't seen the Autobot leader.
"Will do, Sam."
As the kids stepped out, Bumblebee floored the accelerator, pulling a sharp U-turn and screaming toward the nearest military pickup point.
"Sam... do you think he'll be okay?" Mikaela asked quietly.
"Bee? Please," Sam said with forced confidence. "He was part of the sweep last year. They took down dozens of those things. He's a pro."
NEST Base. Diego Garcia.
SCREECH—
Bumblebee drifted into the staging area and transformed in one fluid motion. "Optimus, am I late?"
Optimus Prime stood near the massive Decepticon transport ship, watching Lennox oversee the loading of heavy munitions. "You are just in time, Bumblebee."
"Bee! Long time no see!" Sideswipe skated down the ramp of the ship. He had scanned a new silver Corvette Stingray mode, giving his robot form a sleeker, more aggressive silhouette. He was busy twirling his signature blades. "Doing this keeps the spark-bond tight," he claimed.
"Sideswipe. I heard you 'borrowed' a shuttle from the Wreckers to get here?" Bumblebee buzzed.
"Borrowed! It was a loan! Who said anything about stealing?" Sideswipe snapped, though he looked away quickly.
While they caught up, a figure approached from the command center. It was Director Lawrence, and he looked urgent. He pulled Lennox aside.
"Lennox! We have a situation!"
"What is it, Lawrence?" Lennox asked. He didn't like the Director, but he respected the chain of command.
"Fresh intel," Lawrence whispered, though his eyes darted toward the Autobots. "Command in Japan just reported Decepticon activity at the foot of Mount Fuji. They even caught high-res imagery. They're tracking a potential hive right now."
"Decepticons in Japan? Now?" Lennox frowned. After months of silence, two leads had appeared almost simultaneously. Just thirty minutes ago, they had confirmed a hive near the Eastern Seaboard of the US.
"You're the tactical commander, Lennox. You decide how to play this," Lawrence said, strangely stepping back and allowing Lennox full control—an uncharacteristic move that Lennox was too distracted to notice.
Lennox immediately approached Optimus Prime. "Optimus, we have a complication."
"What has happened, William?" Optimus asked, pausing the boarding process.
"We've located a second Decepticon hive. It's in Japan. If we hit one, the other will surely go into hiding. I'm thinking..."
"Two hives?" Optimus's optics flashed with calculation. "Then we must divide our forces. We cannot allow them to escape back into the shadows."
Optimus was confident. Based on their intelligence, there were no Commander-Class Decepticons left on Earth. Starscream and Soundwave were missing, and the rest were leaderless grunts. Through the ship's long-range comms, he had even reached Ultra Magnus on Cybertron to confirm that no new reinforcements had been dispatched.
"We split," Optimus declared. "We end this today."
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