// This is my fanfic set in Season 2 of Transformers Prime, where Charcoal joined the Autobots! I hope to write some more at some point. For now, enjoy and please give me your feedback!
Transformers Prime: Iron in the Snow
The space bridge failed mid-translation.
Charcoal felt the energy tear through her frame as the portal destabilized, flinging her out of subspace with no warning and no mercy. She hit Earth hard, crashing through a veil of clouds and slamming into the Russian tundra in robot mode with a thunderous impact that sent ice and permafrost flying.
Her systems screamed. Wings locked halfway open. Energon seeped into the snow beneath her.
She lay there for a moment, staring up at an unfamiliar sky, optics flickering as she forced herself to breathe.
"So… that could have gone so much better...."
The cold bit deep into her armor as she pushed herself upright. No friendly signals. No Autobots. Just endless white and wind.
A distant roar cut through the sky — sharp, powerful, alive. Charcoal looked up as a human fighter jet tore across the clouds, banking hard in a maneuver that made her optics widen despite herself.
Her scanner locked on instinctively, cataloguing thrust-vectoring, extreme agility, close-range dominance. The data flowed smoothly into her systems.
"Yeah," she murmured. "That's my style!"
The relief was immediate. Whatever came next, she wouldn’t face it grounded.
She didn't have long to wait.
Another presence entered the airspace — sleeker, sharper, radiating hostile intent. Charcoal didn’t need her scanner to identify the signature.
She tensed instantly, wings flaring as she turned toward him. Every briefing she’d ever absorbed painted the same picture: Decepticon, Air Commander in title if not in truth, and dangerously ambitious.
He descended in a lazy spiral, transforming midair and touching down on the ice with theatrical grace. His optics swept over her, sharp and calculating.
"Well," he said lightly, “this is… unexpected. A lone Autobot."
Charcoal didn't relax. "Cut the act, Starscream. I know exactly who you are."
His optics flickered — surprise, quickly masked by a smile.
"Oh? Then you must understand the opportunity standing here before you."
He spread his wings slightly, non-threatening, almost inviting.
"You are a flyer. An Autobot, yes — but stranded. Alone. Your faction is fractured, hiding in the shadows while we, the Decepticons, reshape this world." He leaned closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial purr. "And I, Starscream, can offer you so much more than the Autobots can."
Charcoal snorted. "You mean… you're on the run, without any backup.’"
Starscream waved it off. "A matter of perspective. The point is, I could use someone like you. Aerial superiority is rare on Earth. With my guidance, you wouldn't be wasting your talents on ground patrols and crash landings. You'd be free from moral restrictions. No restraint.”
Charcoal studied him openly now, unimpressed. "You're trying to recruit me."
"Convince," Starscream corrected smoothly. "I'm offering you freedom. Power. The sky.”
She laughed, short and sharp. "You offer a leash with better marketing. That's not how I roll."
Starscream’s smile tightened.
"You Autobots are so fond of your rules," he continued, pushing harder. "Chains disguised as morality. With me, you would answer to no one, besides me."
Charcoal tilted her head. "Funny. All I hear is a Decepticon who can't keep subordinates. A coward who ran away when things got too tough."
Starscream's wings twitched. "You are damaged, inexperienced, and in no position to be choosy."
"And you're outdated," Charcoal shot back without hesitation. "Still flying like Earth's atmosphere is going to roll over and salute you. Big altitude, big guns. No adaptability. Slow. Ancient ideals."
Silence fell like a blade.
Starscream's composure shattered.
He screamed and launched skyward, transforming in a flash of metal into an F-16 Fighting Falcon, missiles already arming.
Charcoal transformed instantly, her new jet mode roaring to life as she tore off from the ice.
Starscream attacked from above, disciplined in theory but sloppy with rage. Charcoal flew low and erratic, testing her new form in real time, discovering how the Su-37 responded to aggressive thrust-vectoring and sudden vector shifts.
She slipped inside his lock range, forcing him to overshoot, then surged past him in a tight spiral that rattled his stabilizers.
"Outdated," she transmitted calmly. "Slooooow."
Starscream shrieked, overcommitting, pushing his F-16 harder and harder until warning alarms flared through his systems.
He broke off at the last moment, forced to retreat rather than crash.
Charcoal didn't pursue. Her damaged systems flared red, and she peeled away into the clouds, engines sputtering.
Starscream hovered in the frozen sky long after she vanished, fury burning hotter than the Russian cold.
Independent. Skilled. Unimpressed.
Instead, he had found an enemy.
Far beyond his sensors, Charcoal crashed into the snow once more, laughing weakly as she lay back and stared up at Earth's vast, unforgiving sky.
"Yeah," she murmured, optics bright, with a cocky smirk. "I'm gonna like it here. And I even got myself a new playmate.”
In the Nevada desert, dawn spread pale light across the hidden canyon that housed Team Prime’s base. The day was quiet — too quiet, Arcee thought — until the ground-bridge alarms lit the war room in pulsing orange.
Ratchet scowled at the console.
“Unauthorized cybertronian energy signature detected. Northeastern hemisphere, Russia.”
Bulkhead leaned over his shoulder. “Not one of ours?”
“If it were, I wouldn't be rerouting power to the long-range sensors,” Ratchet snapped.
Before anyone could question further, the com-screen flickered to life with a face every Autobot recognized instantly.
Agent William Fowler, looking like he’d already swallowed three arguments and was saving the rest for dessert.
“Optimus! We’ve got a problem. Big one!”
Optimus Prime stepped forward, calm as ever. “Report, Agent Fowler.”
“I’ll report you a migraine,” Fowler shot back. Behind him, alarms blared faintly in what looked like a command center in chaos. “A few hours ago NORAD picked up an unidentified aircraft entering Russian airspace without clearance — swerving like a drunk hornet and ignoring every hailing frequency we threw at it!”
Arcee folded her arms. “A Decepticon?”
“That’s the fun part,” Fowler said through clenched teeth. He jabbed a finger toward the camera. “My contacts on the ground just confirmed visuals. It transformed, Prime. Into a Cybertronian. One we don’t recognize.”
Ratchet’s optics widened. “Another survivor?”
“More like another headache!” Fowler barked. “Because your mystery bot tangled with something else out there — and guess who?”
Optimus didn’t even blink. “Starscream.”
Fowler paused — annoyed he wasn’t delivering fresh intel. “Yeah. That flying toothpick was spotted trading missiles and screaming insults at her across the Siberian tundra. They disappeared before retrieval teams got close enough to engage.”
Bulkhead winced. “Starscream plus a rookie flyer? That’s bad.”
Arcee shook her head. “It’s Starscream. He’d recruit a toaster if he thought it gave him leverage.”
Bumblebee beeped agreement.
Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t know who she is — Autobot, Decepticon, rogue alien tourist — but she blew past Russian radar, evaded two intercept teams, and crashed herself twice in one morning! I’ve got international brass breathing down my neck like I personally hypersonic’d through their airspace!”
The screen zoomed slightly as he leaned forward, voice dark.
“Find her. Fast. Before Russia does. Or before Starscream decides round two sounds like fun.”
Optimus nodded solemnly. “We will locate this newcomer. And if she is an Autobot, she will receive our aid. If not… we will contain the threat.”
Fowler pointed at him, sharp. “You better. Because if one more Cybertronian shows up and starts joyriding through restricted zones, I’m gonna start charging you rent for every scrambled fighter jet.”
Silence lingered for a beat.
Bulkhead let out a low whistle. “Sounds like somebody pressed Fowler’s buttons this morning.”
Ratchet snorted. “Likely the entire keyboard.”
Optimus turned toward the ground-bridge platform. “Arcee. Bulkhead. Prepare for departure. We must retrieve this young one before Starscream — or human forces — can.”
Arcee’s optics narrowed thoughtfully. “If she took on Starscream in the air and survived, she’s got skill. Or a death wish.”
Bulkhead checked his hammer, grin spreading. “Either way, she’ll fit right in.”
The ground bridge flared to life, swirling green light filling the chamber.
Optimus stepped through first.
Charcoal sat on a snow-dusted boulder, legs dangling, wings unfurled like a satisfied hawk. Energon dripped from a few scorched edges, but she didn’t care — not when she’d just taken to Earth’s skies for the first time. Not when she had fought — and outmaneuvered — Starscream.
She replayed the encounter with smug delight.
“Outdated and slow,” she snickered to no one. “Slag, I’m hilarious.”
A low hum vibrated through the clearing.
A tunnel of green and white spiraled open — a ground bridge. And that meant only one thing: Autobots.
From the vortex stepped Optimus Prime, towering and calm with presence like a mountain. Arcee emerged next — sleek, poised, deadly. Bulkhead followed, massive and ready for a fight.
Charcoal’s jaw actually dropped.
“Oh. Oh scrap. It’s you three.”
Optimus’s battle mask retracted, blue optics studying her carefully.
“We detected Cybertronian activity in this region,” he said. “Identify yourself.”
Right. Introducing herself. Words. She had those.
The young flier sprang to her pedes, saluted in pure rookie enthusiasm.
“Autobot reconnaissance cadet Charcoal reporting for duty!” Her wings twitched brightly. “New arrival, fresh from a… uh… less-than-graceful space bridge malfunction. Sir.”
Bulkhead blinked. “Recon cadet? Never heard of you.”
Arcee’s stance eased a fraction — curiosity replacing tension. “You crashed here alone?”
“Yes ma’am,” Charcoal said proudly. “But I secured an alt-mode — Sukhoi SU-37 Terminator — and, you know, immediately ran into Starscream.” She grinned, like that was a badge of honor. “He tried to recruit me. I told him he was slow. He got mad. I had fun.”
Arcee’s optics widened. “You called Starscream slow to his face.”
Bulkhead chuckled. “Okay, now I like her.”
Optimus regarded Charcoal with a gravity that could humble any bot. She straightened instinctively.
“You are fortunate to have survived an encounter with Starscream,” he said. “And even more fortunate that we found you before he did again, Charcoal.”
Then — he extended his hand.
“You are welcome among us.”
Charcoal stared at that offered hand like it was the greatest reward Cybertron ever forged. Her wings fluttered, thrusters humming with excitement she didn’t bother to hide.
“Optimus Prime just invited me to join him, this can't be happening… this cannot be happening… pinch me, I MUST be dreaming….” she whispered to herself — then grabbed his hand and shook it with a bright, uncontained grin. “Sir, YES sir. Please and thank you!”
Bulkhead laughed. Arcee allowed a subtle smirk.
Optimus gave one solemn nod — approval, acceptance.
“Come. There is much we must discuss — and a new world for you to learn.”
As they stepped into the swirling bridge, Charcoal threw one last look at the open sky — her sky.
Earth was strange. Cold. Chaotic.
The ground bridge spiraled open in a spray of sparks and cold air as Optimus led Charcoal through. The warmth of the Autobot base hit her sensors immediately — dry metal, faint energon hum, welding ozone. Comforting. Home-like.
Charcoal stumbled a little on landing — her wing joint twinged — but excitement kept her upright.
The first voice she heard wasn’t welcoming.
“Oh wonderful,” a tired, irritated groan echoed from the medbay, “another one.”
Ratchet emerged, arms crossed, optics critical. He looked Charcoal up and down, expression somewhere between unimpressed and resigned.
“She’s leaking energon on my floor.”
Optimus gestured calmly. “She requires medical attention, Ratchet.”
Ratchet sighed loudly, as if fixing a damaged flier personally inconvenienced the universe. “They all require attention. Fine. You — new one — medbay. Now.”
Charcoal perked up, following, unfazed by his tone. “Name’s Charcoal! Air recon cadet, Autobot. Crashed, fought Starscream, survived! Pretty good first day, right?”
Ratchet stared right at her and then blinked once. “You fought Starscream.”
Ratchet muttered under his breath. “May Primus help us all.”
He set to work, grumbling as he welded plating and sealed energon leaks.
“You flyers always show up with bent wings, scorched thrusters, missing common sense— hold still!”
“It’s supposed to sting! That means it’s working!”
Charcoal kept quietly gawking at everything — the massive computer screens, the raised platforms, the human-sized stairs. She wanted to explore so badly she was practically vibrating in her berth.
Bulkhead chuckled from across the room. “Easy, kid. You’ll get the tour after Ratchet quits complaining.”
“I heard that,” Ratchet snapped. Then the elevator dinged.
Three humans stepped out.
Jack — cautious, evaluating her with wide but logical eyes.
Raf — bright smile, curious and gentle.
Miko — eyes already sparkling like fireworks.
Miko gasped so loud it echoed through the base.
Charcoal jerked in surprise, wings twitching. Her optics snapped down—
Tiny. Loud. Moving very fast.
Miko launched toward her like a missile.
“What’s your name? Are you a jet? You look like a jet—OH MY GOSH are you a fighter jet? Can you fly? Can you do flips? How fast? Did you fight Decepticons? Did you win? Did you meet Starscream? Did you PUNCH HIM?!”
Charcoal stared at Miko for half a second—
Then her entire expression lit up.
“Yes—yes—YES—YES—FAST—very fast—YES—AND—!” she pointed at Miko like she’d just found her favorite person, “—kind of?!”
Luckily, Ratchet had finished repairs so, climbing off the medical berth, she dropped into a crouch, leaning in, completely locked in now.
“I didn’t punch him, but I did call him outdated, and then he tried to blow me up…. so honestly?” She grinned wide. “I’m counting that as a win.”
Miko gasped again, hands clenched into fists.
Jack groaned from the sidelines. “She found another role model.”
Raf gave a small, polite wave. “Hi. I’m Raf.”
Charcoal immediately shifted, still bright, but softer, leaning down quickly, then catching herself and slowing just a bit so she didn’t scare him.
“Hi! Raf—right? I’m Charcoal, new rookie…. uh ... crash test dummy, working on that last part…..”
Ratchet threw his hands up. “At least she’s self-aware.”
Miko grabbed onto Charcoal’s arm plating, practically vibrating.
“SO when do I get to fly with you? We could stunt dive, buzz the highway, scare Decepticons, jump off a canyon, paint your wings pink—”
Charcoal pointed at her, eyes bright, engines practically humming.
“All of that… yes… we are doing all of that.”
Every Autobot in the room froze.
Arcee slowly brought a hand to her helm, already regretting everything.
“Optimus…” she muttered. “We have a situation.”
Charcoal leaned down toward Miko, lowering her voice just enough to make it feel conspiratorial…
but not enough that anyone didn’t hear it.
Optimus stared down at Charcoal, voice steady.
“Charcoal… Earth requires discretion and caution. We do not fly for sport or thrill when lives may be endangered.”
Charcoal looked chastened for half a second.
“Understood, sir! Caution! Discretion! Responsible fun.”
Miko raised her hand for a high-five.
Charcoal gently high-fived with a finger, sending Miko stumbling back with laughter.
Ratchet glared at Charcoal. “Try not to get shot for at least one solar cycle.”
“No promises,” she chirped.
Arcee and Jack exchanged looks — this one’s trouble.
Bulkhead grinned — fun trouble.
Miko already climbed onto Charcoal’s pede like she was a jungle gym.
Raf smiled up at her with quiet awe.
And Charcoal — rookie, flier, adrenaline junkie — stood in the center of it all buzzing with excitement.
A new planet. A new team. A new friend in Miko Nakadai. When the alarms blared across the base, Ratchet nearly dropped his wrench.
“Decepticon activity detected,” He announced.
Optimus turned immediately toward the ground bridge. “Decepticons have surfaced near an Energon mine. We move.”
Arcee clipped her helm. “Coordinates locked.”
Bulkhead readied his wrecking balls. “About time.”
Bumblebee beeped sharply, eager.
Optimus glanced toward the humans. “Jack, Miko, Raf — you remain here. It is dangerous.”
Jack nodded. Raf too. Miko… smiled a little too innocently.
Charcoal stood taller, wings flexing. “Sir — let me come! I’m combat trained. Rookie, yeah, but I can fly recon—”
Optimus placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “You are not yet mission-ready. Your systems remain unstable, and the Decepticons will target you.”
Arcee cut in gently. “You survived Starscream once. Don’t push your odds.”
Charcoal’s wings drooped. Disappointment was clear.
Bulkhead offered a sympathetic pat. “Next time, kid.”
The team stepped through the ground bridge — swirling light swallowing them whole.
With a whoosh, the portal vanished.
Leaving only Ratchet, Charcoal, Miko, Jack, and Raf.
Then Ratchet turned slowly — too slowly — toward the most dangerous pairing combination in the base.
“No,” he preemptively stated. “Whatever you are thinking, the answer is no.”
Miko crossed her arms dramatically. “We weren’t thinking about anything.”
Charcoal leaned down, whispering at full volume. “But we could.”
Ratchet’s optics narrowed to surgical slits. “Do. Not. Touch. Anything.”
Ratchet was at the console monitoring the battle feed — while Charcoal bounced on her pedes, fighting the urge to join. “I could be up there. I’m fast enough. I’m good enough. I could help!”
Raf looked up kindly. “I’m sure you will. They just want you safe.”
Miko leaned in with a grin. “Who says we can’t help from here?”
Ratchet didn’t turn, but he bristled. “I heard that.”
Miko stage-whispered to Charcoal. “He’s always like this.”
Charcoal whispered back — louder somehow. “We could monitor their fight up close.”
Ratchet spun. “Absolutely NOT—”
Charcoal was already examining an inactive console — fascinating buttons everywhere. “What does this one do?”
She accidentally pressed it.
The entire base lights flickered.
The ground bridge sparked and shuddered like it was about to implode.
Ratchet shrieked — actually shrieked.
“WHY WOULD THAT BUTTON EVEN BE AN OPTION—?!”
Charcoal slapped it again out of panic. The alarms stopped.
She exhaled in relief. “Fixed it!”
Ratchet’s frustration reached an audible frequency only dogs and Cybertronian radio could detect.
Miko cheered. “She’s great!”
Jack rubbed his temples. “This is how I die.”
Charcoal paced restlessly.
“I need to MOVE. To fly. To DO something. Maybe I can help calibrate the comm array or—”
Miko pointed dramatically toward the storage hall. “We could explore.”
Ratchet froze. “You will NOT explore—”
But Charcoal was already halfway down the hall. Ratchet chased after her and all Jack and Raf heard was:
“Charcoal! Come back here! Those are fragile devices! Priceless research! VOLATILE PARTS!”
Miko ran after her. “I'LL SHOW YOU THE COOL DECEPTICON RELICS!”
“NO RELICS! NO RUNNING! STOP RUNNING—”
Raf and Jack watched the chaos vanish into the distance, footsteps and shouting echoing like a cartoon chase.
Jack exhaled. “Ratchet’s gonna blow a fuse.”
Raf smiled. “They’re bonding.”
A crash sounded. Then another.
“WHO LET YOU TURN ON THE MAGNETIC FIELD GENERATOR?!”
“I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WE STILL HAD A MAGNETIC FIELD GENERATOR!”
Charcoal’s laughter rang like jet engines. Miko joined in, pure delighted chaos.
Jack sighed. “Yep. They’re definitely bonding.”
One month later, the harsh Nevada desert rushed past in a blur of terracotta and sagebrush as Charcoal banked hard, her thrusters roaring. A full month on Earth hadn't dulled the sheer thrill of atmospheric flight. If anything, the deep, rumbling power of her Sukhoi Su-37 alt-mode had only made her more reckless.
She pulled up into a vertical climb, tearing through a thin layer of cirrus clouds before finally cutting her engines and letting gravity pull her back down in a controlled, terrifying freefall.
"Control, this is Charcoal, wrapping up sector patrol," she commed in, unable to keep the grin out of her voice. "Zero Decepticon activity. Unless you count a very angry hawk that tried to race me near the canyon. I won, by the way."
Ratchet’s voice crackled back through the comms, dripping with his usual exhaustion.
"Just return to base, Charcoal. And please, use the designated approach vector this time. I am not recalibrating the proximity sensors again."
"Copy that, Doc. Coming in hot."
Charcoal soared through the disguised mesa entrance, transforming mid-air with a sharp clatter of shifting metal. She stuck the landing perfectly on the silo floor, her signature charcoal-brown plating catching the harsh fluorescent lights. It was a custom finish she’d stubbornly maintained ever since her academy days back on Cybertron, and she liked to keep it looking sharp.
She rolled her shoulders, expecting the usual quiet hum of the base, maybe Miko shouting a greeting from the human platform.
Instead, the main hangar was practically buzzing.
Arcee and Bumblebee were recovering from what looked like a heavy firefight, Optimus was standing near the relic vault, and Ratchet was meticulously logging a massive, bulky metal suit into the inventory.
And standing right in the middle of it all, gesturing wildly and talking at a million miles an hour, was a bot Charcoal had never seen before.
He was sleek, painted in flashy racing colors of white, red, and blue, with door-wings that twitched with every word he spoke.
"…and then, right as Starscream thinks he’s got the high ground, BAM!" The new guy punched the air, completely missing the fact that Bulkhead was limping sadly down the hallway behind him. "I phase right through the crane, pop up behind him, and kick him straight out of the Apex Armor! You should have seen the look on his faceplate!"
Miko, predictably, was hanging over the railing of the human area, completely spellbound.
"That is the coolest thing I have ever heard! Did he scream? I bet he screamed."
"Oh, he shrieked," the new bot laughed, striking a heroic pose.
Charcoal tilted her head, folding her arms across her chest. She took a few deliberate steps forward, her heavy pedes clanking against the floor until she was standing right behind him.
"You kicked Starscream?" Charcoal asked, raising an optic ridge.
The new bot spun around, startled, his door-wings flaring. He blinked at her, taking in her jet-fighter kibble, the swept-back wings, and the smirk playing on her face.
"Uh, yeah," he said, recovering his swagger quickly. "Booted him right out of an indestructible suit. Name's Smokescreen. Elite Guard trainee, assigned to the Hall of Records, and newest recruit to Team Prime. Who are you? Another local?"
"Charcoal," she replied, extending a hand. "Air recon, combat specialist. And up until about five minutes ago, I was the newest recruit."
Smokescreen took her hand, giving it a firm, competitive shake.
"No kidding? A flier? Nice to meet you. So, what’s your claim to fame around here?"
Charcoal’s smirk widened into a full-blown grin. She leaned in just a fraction.
"On my first day? I crashed in Russia, insulted Starscream’s alt-mode to his face, called him outdated, and then out-flew him so hard he blew his own stabilizers trying to catch me."
Smokescreen’s jaw actually dropped. He looked at Charcoal, then up at Miko, then back at Charcoal.
"Wait. You called him outdated to his face?"
"She totally did!" Miko cheered from the balcony. "And she let me paint a racing stripe on her wing last week!"
Smokescreen’s optics lit up. He looked at Charcoal like he had just found a long-lost sibling.
"Okay, that is amazing. But, to be fair, I did just save a Wrecker from getting squashed by a Decepticon in an invincible suit. So, one point to me."
"ONE point to you? Nuh-uh-uh-uh!" Charcoal snorted, her thrusters giving a short, competitive hum. "Puh-lease. You used a Phase Shifter. That’s basically cheating. I humiliated the Air Commander using nothing but raw thrust-vectoring and sheer audacity."
"Audacity doesn't win wars, rookie," Smokescreen fired back, though his smile was huge.
"Neither do door-wings with double 38s on them, rookie."
"By the AllSpark," Ratchet groaned softly from the main console, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Arcee walked up beside the medic, crossing her arms as she watched the two rookies immediately start trying to one-up each other's war stories.
"So," Arcee said dryly. "We now have a hotheaded, thrill-seeking flier who thinks rules are suggestions..."
"...And a starry-eyed, glory-hunting speedster who thinks he's going to win the war single-handedly," Ratchet finished, his voice trembling with impending doom.
They both slowly turned their helms to look at the human platform.
Miko was practically vibrating. Jack had his face buried in his hands, and Raf was offering a sympathetic pat to Jack's shoulder.
"Hey, Charcoal!" Miko yelled over the din of the two Autobots arguing about who was faster. "Smokescreen hasn't seen the canyon yet! We should show him the canyon! It’s a perfect make-out spot!"
"Yes!" Charcoal spun around, wings flaring with excitement, oblivious to Miko's make-out comment. "Smokescreen, how do you handle vertical drops?"
"I don’t know, but I’m definitely going to be better at it than you!" Smokescreen challenged, already transforming his arms to check his blasters out of pure nervous energy.
"Is that a challenge?" Charcoal stepped into his space, her own optics blazing.
"Optimus," Ratchet said, turning to the Prime with a look of utter, profound despair. "I am requesting an immediate transfer off this planet. Or, alternatively, I would like to be put into a stasis lock."
Optimus Prime observed the two young Autobots. Smokescreen was currently attempting to demonstrate a spin-kick, while Charcoal was critiquing his form and explaining how it would be better executed at mach two.
"They have spirit, Ratchet," Optimus said gently, though even the Prime’s vocalizer sounded a fraction heavier than usual. "And they will need it for the battles to come."
"They're going to destroy the base before the Decepticons even find us," Ratchet muttered, turning back to his screens.
Charcoal clapped Smokescreen on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Alright, newbie. Let's see what you've got. Try to keep up."
Smokescreen grinned, his engine revving loudly in the enclosed space.
"Lead the way, fly-girl. Just don't choke on my exhaust."
As the two of them bolted for the tunnel, Miko cheering the entire way, the veterans of Team Prime shared a collective moment of silence.
Earth had just gotten significantly louder.
