The President's "meltdown" lasted three full days.
He was in good physical shape. Someone older might have dropped dead from sheer rage.
By the third day, the meltdown ended.
Not because he calmed down.
Because there was nothing left to melt.
"So," the President said, looking calmly at the man before him. "Director of Sector 7. How exactly is your plan progressing?"
He folded his hands.
"I have fleets from multiple countries closing in on our territorial waters. Sino-Russian joint forces. Anglo-French joint forces. Do you know that since the founding of America, nothing like this has ever happened?"
He paused.
"So unless there's an accident, I won't be the next President. And you-I can guarantee you'll be gone before I leave office."
"Mr. President, this isn't something I can simply resolve," the Sector 7 Director said. He looked composed, or perhaps resigned. "At the very least, we do have one piece of good news. He hasn't contacted or partnered with any other country."
"It looks that way," the President replied. "But with his capabilities, can you guarantee he hasn't contacted his own country and sent things back?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Do you know how sick I feel watching the Chinese diplomat act indignant? Reaping benefits while denying everything, leaving all the pressure on us? And I don't have a shred of evidence to refute them."
He leaned forward slightly.
"And this is your solution?"
"Mr. President," the Director said, shaking his head, "the level of technology the other party has demonstrated is far beyond our understanding. I can confirm we've used every weapon and method available to us short of the final weapon."
He took a breath.
"And yet he walked into Hoover Dam, took the AllSpark, and neutralized the Decepticon they call Megatron. I'm sure you've seen the footage."
"I've seen it," the President said. "On every video platform."
His voice stayed flat.
"Our elite soldiers. All our weapons. Completely shut down. They took everything, recorded it, uploaded it-and we can't even get the video removed."
He leaned back in his chair.
He didn't slam the table this time.
Over the past three days, several tables in the Oval Office had already been replaced. He had learned that anger didn't solve problems. It only created new ones.
"Clearly, their cyber capabilities also far exceed ours," the Director said.
"And?" the President asked. "You still need to come up with something. I may be destined to lose re-election, but you're still the one in charge."
"Mr. President," the Director said quietly, "this is like an attack from a higher dimension. Unless a miracle occurs, or God Himself intervenes, defeat is inevitable. We are ants standing before him."
He hesitated.
"Of course, if you authorize the use of the final weapon-"
"Can we win?" the President asked.
"No," the Director replied, shaking his head. "But we can lose with a little more dignity. Victory is impossible. We're fighting a god-like existence. Launching nuclear weapons would only show the world that we tried. No nation on Earth could win this."
"...Fine," the President said after a moment. "You have my approval. Go convince the others yourself."
He sounded completely drained.
"Thank you for your understanding, Mr. President," the Director said, removing his hat and bowing.
"An existence like you," Bumblebee said cautiously, "why do you act like this?"
He watched Morin idly turning a metal cube in his hand.
At the same time, Bumblebee tried not to look in a certain direction.
Over there, Megatron and Optimus were staring at each other.
Arch-enemies.
And yet they weren't fighting.
That alone was strange.
What made it less strange was the reason.
Morin had frozen them.
The entire way here, they had been trying to kill each other. Then Morin snapped his fingers, and both leaders-Autobot and Decepticon-lost the ability to move, left completely at his mercy.
They weren't frozen solid.
They simply couldn't move.
To Bumblebee, it felt like the power of a god.
"What do you mean, act like this?" Morin asked, tossing the shrunken AllSpark lightly from hand to hand.
"It's just..." Bumblebee chose his words carefully. "You do whatever you want, but you care about some very strange things."
"Everyone has their own bottom line," Morin said. "Mine is simple. Don't kill innocents. Everything else is negotiable."
He glanced at the cube.
"That's why I took this and posted the video. It's why I sent some of your technology to a country on this planet-because they're very similar to my own. And it's why I froze those two."
His gaze shifted briefly toward Optimus and Megatron.
"In my view, neither of them is actually wrong."
"Neither... neither is wrong?" Bumblebee froze.
"Yes," Morin said. "Optimus isn't wrong. From his perspective, all life deserves the right to survive, so he protects Earth."
He continued evenly.
"But from the Decepticons' perspective-from Megatron's perspective-Optimus is wrong, because they're fighting for Cybertron's survival. And from humanity's perspective, Megatron is wrong, because humans want to survive too."
He shrugged.
"Different viewpoints create different truths."
"Then... what's your perspective?" Bumblebee asked carefully.
Morin stood up.
"Mine?" he said. "Fight however you want. Just don't involve Earth. This planet isn't ready to participate in something like this."
He looked out into the distance.
"After all, this is a world where boiling water is still the primary way to convert energy. For you, that's like a grown adult picking a fight with a child."
Bumblebee felt uneasy.
"So... so what?"
"So," Morin said.
He snapped his fingers.
In an instant, the Aatrox Mecha appeared on the ground.
Morin floated upward, stopping beside the mecha's chest-mounted nuclear reactor.
"Earth is under my protection," he said calmly. "Follow whatever ideology you want. Fight however you want. I don't care."
His eyes hardened.
"As long as Earth isn't involved."
"Take your war outside the solar system. Don't talk to me about right or wrong."
He pressed the transforming AllSpark directly into the Aatrox Mecha's reactor.
"I believe that might makes right."
A blinding red light tore through the mist.
The flash was visible from space.
"I am Aatrox."
In Bumblebee's vision, the ancient, demon-like Aatrox Mecha-no, the silicon lifeform itself-looked down at him.
The voice that followed spread in every direction, heavy and absolute.
The wings of light flared. The light-sword burned brighter.
Like a celestial warrior returned to his prime.
"I will protect this world."