The frames of the four new warriors were only a head shorter than Skygnaw, standing at roughly 7.5 meters. Each was equipped with multiple weapon modules, balancing melee lethality with long-range ballistics to ensure no tactical weaknesses.
Once they had acclimated to their new bodies, Skygnaw issued their first directive.
"This is a search-and-identify mission. You are to scour this planet for Cybertronians who arrived during the Ancient and Primordial eras..."
"They have slept for eons, but their power is not to be underestimated. Notify me the moment you find a lead. Do not engage on your own."
Carnage, Famine, Pestilence, and Catastrophe saluted in unison. "By your command, Lord Skygnaw."
The term 'Decepticon' was a faction, but Skygnaw's targets were pure Cybertronians—those who belonged to neither side or had existed before the schism. Seeking out these ancient sparks to harvest a Commander-Class Spark was now his top priority.
He hadn't sent Brawl for this task because Brawl wasn't his 'inner circle.' Only these four, whose logic gates were bound to his own, could be trusted with the true objective of his ascension.
After the Horsemen departed, Skygnaw surveyed the mountains of resources Karl had funneled to him. It was enough to build four more High-Class squads. Waste not, want not. He signaled Brawl to bring a fleet of drone workers to begin a massive expansion and reinforcement project for Base One and Base Two.
Brawl, who had been stationed at Base Two to manage the logistics, never saw the Horsemen. This was Skygnaw's insurance policy. If the humans or Autobots ever tracked the signal to Alaska, they would hit Base Two and Brawl first, giving Skygnaw ample time to relocate or react from Base One. In return for his service, Skygnaw had even crafted a custom set of heavy external plating for Brawl, making the tank-former even more of a walking fortress.
NEST Base. Diego Garcia.
A massive Decepticon transport ship—the one captured during the Battle of Konnas Canyon—lifted slowly into the sky. Its passengers, however, were not the vanguard of Megatron, but a mixed force of Autobots and NEST operatives.
"Damn it!"
In a corner of the cargo bay, Colonel Lennox slammed his satellite phone shut, venting his frustration to Epps.
"Robert, that arrogant snake Lawrence is asking for our flight plan again. Does he think we need to file a report every time we take a breath? Who does he think he is? The Secretary of Defense? The President?"
The victory at Konnas Canyon had been a landslide. Despite a fierce Decepticon counterattack that had left several Autobots damaged and NEST teams depleted, the haul was unprecedented: a functional heavy transport and dozens of Decepticon frames for study.
Director Lawrence, the man who had pushed for the aggressive tactical engagement, had leveraged the victory to skyrocket his political standing. Now, he treated NEST like his personal kingdom. While the initial agreement stated the ship belonged to the Autobots and the bodies to the humans, Lawrence was clearly angling to seize the craft as well.
"He's looking for a promotion, Will," Epps shrugged, remaining calm. "And with the way the public is reacting to 'alien technology,' even the President is being vague. Calling Keller won't help right now."
Lennox sighed, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. He knew Epps was right. The lure of star-faring technology was a siren call that no politician could resist.
Nearby, Optimus Prime observed the tension and approached. "Lennox, what troubles you?"
"Nothing, Optimus," Lennox lied quickly. "Just coordinating the patrol sectors. The remaining Decepticons have gone completely dark since the canyon fell."
Optimus studied the human for a moment, his blue optics dimming slightly. "I am certain they are plotting something in the shadows. If you find even a trace of an anomalous electromagnetic signature, do not hide it from us."
"You have my word," Lennox promised, though he felt the weight of the human bureaucratic infighting threatening the alliance.
In the Autobot section of the hold, two new faces stood alongside the original team and the Arcee sisters.
One was a sleek, silver-grey warrior with twin alloy blades—Sideswipe. The other was a medium-built, blue-and-black medic—Jolt.
They had arrived just the previous day, having followed the beacon Optimus had left near Diego Garcia. Jolt was Ratchet's former assistant, a skilled field medic. Sideswipe, on the other hand, had talked his way onto a Wrecker transport to find his way to the front lines.
"This planet is beautiful, master," Sideswipe said to Ironhide, tossing one of his blades into a spinning blur. "But the locals seem... prickly."
"You're lucky Bumblebee is back with the boy," Ironhide grunted. "If he heard you calling his humans prickly, he'd shove your tailpipe through your intake."
"Where is our base of operations, Optimus?" Sideswipe asked, looking around.
"We have no independent base," Optimus replied. "The humans do not permit us our own sovereign ground yet. NEST is our home."
"What? We live with them?" Sideswipe looked appalled. "How do we even refuel without them watching?"
"Energy is not an issue," Ratchet intervened. "The Konnas raid provided enough Energon cubes to last a cycle. And this ship is stocked with supplies. We are independent for now."
Optimus nodded solemnly. "We are in a delicate period of cooperation. A sovereign base is secondary. Our primary goal is the total eradication of the Decepticon remnants—specifically the one born here: Skygnaw."
As the Autobots talked, the transport crossed the ocean, moving toward a different continent. They were cloaked, invisible to human radar.
Suddenly, as the ship crossed the border of the desert, a Foxhound Interceptor flashed through the clouds behind them. Like a bird with a broken wing, the silver jet plummeted toward the sand.
Just a hundred meters above the dunes, the Interceptor defied physics, snapping into a dead hover. Its nose tilted up, the blue flames of its thrusters ignited, and it vanished into the swirling heat haze of the desert.
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