In a world where giant transforming alien robots are merely a work of fiction, a group of friends try to escape their grim reality through the many media outlets the internet has to offer.
However, when they're suddenly thrust into a dimension that...
"Sunstreaker, we must leave now!" He urges the golden mech to his side.
"Stop them!" A hauntingly familiar voice bellows.
Primus grips a servo to Sunstreaker's shoulder as he locks optics with a corrupt Prime from his past. Megatronus Prime, also known as The Fallen. The fallen Prime orders the new group of Cons at his side to fire upon the group, just as Primus manages to teleport them to safety.
"PRIMUS!" Megatronus bellows in rage, slamming his servo into the nearest wall, before collapsing to one knee.
The Vehicons support his weakened frame as they guide him back to his life sustaining throne room.
***
The group materialise once again, in the familiar surroundings of Diego Garcia's vehicle hanger. Bots and humans alike gasp in shock as they make a loud and graceless landing. It would have been smoother, but the God is running on fumes, it took the last of his energy to get them this far. Thankfully, it was enough, but the growing pain in his abdomen suggests he wasn't quite quick enough. He adjusts his grip on AngelBlade, passing her to a stumped Sunstreaker, before he collapses, clutching his side as pure energon spills to the ground.
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"It seems I made a slight miscalculation" Primus wheezes as Sunstreaker finally takes notice of his situation.
"Slag it, Primus. Are any of the stories about you accurate?" The ex gladiator growls as he does his best to help the God, without dropping the unconscious femme.
"Of course they are! It's not my fault this squabble between factions has weakened me" Primus is practically pouting at this point.
"Just admit it, you're old" Sunstreaker smirks as the God's face morphs into disbelief.
"I am not old! I don't even age!" He defends, wincing when his outburst jostles his wound.
"Whatever you say, Old Bot" the Bot teases, to the God's dismay.
While this is happening, Bob sneaks his way through the gawking Bots and humans, following a scent he knows all too well. The little Insecticon soon finds his way to a door, on the other side, he can hear a variety of voices arguing with each other.
***
"This is ridiculous! We aren't making any progress!" Flammus exclaims, throwing her servos in the air in frustration.
"Flammus is right. If we can't rescue her, then what about negotiating with the Cons?" SilverJay proposes, hoping a simple trade offer would get her friend back.
