In Mojsa, Megatron descended from the sky after leading the Decepticons in a fruitless search for the Matrix of Leadership.
"Master, a message from Soundwave. The boy has been found. He is currently protected by the Autobots."
"Excellent." The Fallen, who had been resting with his eyes closed, snapped them open. A flash of savage excitement gleamed in his gaze.
"My apprentice, take all available Decepticons and bring that boy to me!"
The Fallen paused, turning his head slightly. "Skygnaw, Blackarachnia, you will go as well."
Standing behind the ancient Prime, Skygnaw and Blackarachnia exchanged a brief glance and nodded together. "Yes, Lord Fallen."
Skygnaw had relocated to Mojsa after finding nothing useful back at the ancient temple. The pocket dimension that sealed the Matrix of Leadership had only sustained itself for a million years because the six original Primes used their own bodies as a fuel source. Essentially, their metal frames burned away to prolong the seal's life.
The moment Sam removed the Matrix from the altar, their eternal mission concluded. By the time Skygnaw went inside to investigate, there was absolutely nothing left to salvage.
Watching the Decepticons deploy in waves, The Fallen turned his gaze back to the Star Harvester. "Soon. Very soon."
The Star Harvester was far too critical. He chose to guard it personally, refusing to let anyone jeopardize the crowning stroke of his vengeance.
The massive pyramid that had stood for millennia was now completely gone, exposing a colossal, grotesque machine. It loomed over the desert like a towering iron crucible, projecting an aura of dread.
In fact, almost every major nation on Earth had flagged the device the exact moment it breached the surface. An anomaly of that scale, just slightly smaller than the original pyramid, was impossible for orbital satellites to miss on a routine pass.
Yet none of the global powers expected that a landmark recorded in thousands of years of human history would be a disguise for an ancient machine. Under normal circumstances, if archaeologists had excavated this under the sands, it would have instantly become a world-changing discovery.
Unfortunately, the emergence of the Harvester was heavily overshadowed by the annihilation of Yunu. Compared to an unidentified alien installation, the news of an active war on Earth was far more explosive.
Furthermore, because global governments had no concrete data on the machine's purpose, combined with a severe dread of further provoking the Decepticons, everyone remained in a holding pattern. Had they known this machine possessed the raw power to extinguish their sun, nuclear payloads would have been en route within the minute.
The Star Harvester. It sounded terrifying. But how many atomic bombs could it actually take?
"Move, move, move! Establish a perimeter!"
Dozens of parachutes collapsed into the desert sand. Lennox didn't have the luxury to figure out where the adrift Galloway had landed, immediately ordering his men into defensive positions.
"William," Epps said, running to his side with his rifle raised. His eyes remained locked to his optic scope. "We need to find a place to hide Optimus. Leaving him out in the open like this is begging for a Decepticon sweep to flag his signature."
He hadn't forgotten that this entire region was crawling with Decepticons. It was practically their backyard.
"I'm looking, Epps!" Lennox scanned the horizon through his binoculars, spotting a cluster of dilapidated structures about a kilometer away. "There's an abandoned village over there. We move to that position!"
"Ironhide, Sideswipe, give us a hand. We need you to secure the tow lines to Optimus."
Ironhide and Sideswipe hoisted the massive frame. With the remaining Autobots clearing a path forward, the group hurried to relocate. Every Cybertronian present understood that they had reached the precipice of their faction's survival.
The abandoned villages on the desert fringe were standard for the region, constructed primarily of heavy limestone blocks. A kilometer's march across the shifting dunes was a simple exercise for elite operators.
The moment they breached the perimeter, Lennox issued rapid, organized directives. "Get Optimus under cover first!"
A massive canvas tarp was thrown over the Prime's chassis, masking his silhouette.
"Move the munitions crates into the structures! Establish defensive firing points!"
"Snipers, get to the high ground and watch the surrounding sectors!"
Under Lennox's tactical arrangement, the soldiers seamlessly melted into the ruins. The Autobots shifted into their vehicle modes, dropping their systems into a silent crouch.
"We just hauled tons of dead Prime across half the globe to this wasteland," Epps grumbled, squinting against the harsh glare of the midday sun. "I hope that kid actually knows what he's doing."
"Don't worry," Lennox replied, raising his binoculars once more. "They definitely know we're here. We just need to maintain patience."
"Boss, we've got a visual!" a drone operator shouted over the comms, interrupting William and Epps. "A convoy has broken cover five kilometers out. It's Bumblebee and the twins!"
"Excellent. Deploy a flare!"
"On it, boss."
Thud.
A tactical flare streaked into the sky, trailing a heavy pillar of smoke before igniting into a brilliant, pulsing crimson light that remained vividly clear beneath the blinding desert sun.
Five kilometers away, Sam spotted it instantly.
"The flare!" Sam pointed toward the horizon, his voice laced with excitement. "Do you see it? They're right there!"
"Awesome. Come on, let's get over there."
Without waiting for a command, Bumblebee swerved onto a direct vector and slammed his throttle to the floor. Suddenly, a Cybertronian assault craft tore through the sky above them.
Driven by his immense speed, Skygnaw was the first of Megatron's deployment to arrive on target.
"I didn't expect us to cross paths again so soon after yesterday," Skygnaw thought.
He swept his sensors over the convoy. As a token effort to fulfill his orders, he released a salvo of micro-missiles toward the lead Camaro.
Fwoosh. Boom.
Blasts erupted along both sides of the highway. Bumblebee executed a violent, screeching brake, kicking up a wall of desert dust over ten meters high.
Lennox caught the entire engagement through the live feed of his surveillance drone. He adjusted his focus, his gaze tracking the uniquely aggressive frame of the aircraft. "Damn it. It's the Decepticon Skygnaw!"
Lennox recognized the insignia on the hull instantly.
In truth, though Skygnaw himself rarely thought about it, his vehicle mode had become a recurring nightmare for global command structures. Putting aside his status as a Commander-class warlord, his track record was unparalleled.
He had breached Sector 7 to awaken Megatron, decimated the air reinforcement wings during the Battle of Mission City, and held the Autobots hostage to force America to surrender a Cybertronian starship. To top it off, he had resurrected Megatron and executed Optimus Prime.
In the global threat matrix, Skygnaw was ranked as the second most dangerous Cybertronian on Earth, sitting directly beneath Megatron himself. Had Megatron not held the formal title of Decepticon Leader, Skygnaw would have easily occupied the number one spot.
Of course, Skygnaw didn't see it that way. He genuinely felt he hadn't done anything to warrant such public outrage, considering himself a highly approachable, mild-mannered Decepticon.
"What's the call, Lennox? Do we engage?" Epps asked, his rifle tracked tightly onto the low-flying assault craft.
"Negative. Optimus is still exposed, and you know what that Decepticon is capable of. Ironhide and the others can't take him in a straight fight. We cannot let him find out that Optimus and the main Autobot force are dug in here."
"So we just watch the kid get blown to pieces?"
"Absolutely not," Lennox said, lowering his binoculars with a grim expression. "Epps, it's time to call in the cavalry."
"You should've done that an hour ago, man," Epps agreed completely. Taking on a Decepticon vanguard with a single platoon was pure suicide.
"I'm contacting the regional theater command in Hashim. We need immediate air and ground support."
Lennox patched into the secure frequency, reciting his clearance codes. After a tense exchange, he secured confirmation that a primary reinforcement wing would arrive within thirty minutes.
Up in the air, Skygnaw's tracking sweeps suddenly flagged a cluster of thermal signatures hidden within the limestone ruins of the abandoned village. After a brief calculation, he dropped an electromagnetic pulse payload directly into the sector.
Inside the ruins, Lennox's secure line suddenly died, dissolving into a wall of white static.
Before he could diagnose the failure, a metallic capsule slammed into the center of the village plaza, unleashing a visible ring of distortion that rippled outward like water.
"Whoa! What the hell was that?" Epps jumped, startled. Across the plaza, dozens of soldiers instinctively checked their gear to ensure no vital components had fried.
"Decepticon interference. He's tagged our position and deployed a localized EMP," Lennox explained, trying his personal radio anyway. "Radio check. Anyone copy this transmission?"
Receiving nothing but dead air, Lennox tossed the useless unit onto a crate in frustration. "Our comms are completely dark. Fortunately, the coordinates are already with theater command. Let's see what kind of hell this place turns into today."
The Pentagon, Washington D.C.
Deep within the subterranean command bunker of the NEST Oversight Division, a secure terminal began to chime. A general lifted the receiver. "NEST Command Bunker. Speak."
Galloway's panicked, breathless voice crackled through the secure line from an unidentified location. "I can't establish contact with Colonel Lennox! He told me to route through this number if an emergency occurred!"
The Presidential Advisor was currently unrecognizable. His pristine corporate suit was shredded and caked in dirt, and he had several wild bird feathers stuck into his hair.
Having drifted through the upper atmosphere with his eyes squeezed shut, he was completely oblivious as to which continent he had actually descended upon. After a grueling trek across several miles of wilderness, he had finally stumbled upon a caravan of locals transporting freight.
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