GIVE ME YOUR FACE: A Transformers Prime Crackfic

Marcus Chen was a twenty-seven-year-old barista, dedicated Transformers wiki editor, and unapologetic Bayverse Optimus Prime apologist who owned every action figure, defended every explosion, and would argue to his dying breath that a giant robot riding a robot dinosaur while dual-wielding a sword and shield was peak cinema. Then he got hit by a semi-truck. Because the universe has a sense of humor. Now he's been reborn as Optimus Prime in the Transformers Prime universe — but not the calm, philosophical, speech-giving Optimus that this universe is used to. No, Marcus brought the Bayverse with him. The combat protocols. The ruthlessness. The sheer, unbridled willingness to tear a Decepticon apart with his bare hands and feel absolutely nothing about it afterward. Oh, and enough hidden weapons to make the entire United States military file for early retirement — swords, axes, guns, missile launchers, energon hooks, rotary cannons, a jet pack, and a chest-mounted particle beam cannon that he hasn't even used yet because he's "saving it for something special." The Autobots are concerned. Ratchet is running daily neurological scans and finding nothing wrong, which somehow makes everything worse. Arcee is caught between admiration and alarm. Bumblebee's doorwings haven't come down from full alert in a week. Bulkhead is crying in the corner because Miko — wonderful, chaotic, adrenaline-addicted Miko — has abandoned him as her favorite Autobot in favor of the giant robot Swiss Army knife who once threatened Starscream with "creative displeasure" and "implements." Cliffjumper is alive (because Optimus refused to let the pilot episode happen) but now has PTSD from watching his leader cave in a Vehicon's face with nothing but grip strength and righteous fury. Jack is overwhelmed. Raf is taking notes. Miko started a fan page. And Megatron? Megatron isn't sleeping well. Megatron is having nightmares. Megatron looked into Optimus Prime's optics across a desert full of dismembered Vehicons and saw something that four million years of war had never shown him before — a Prime who has stopped holding back, stopped showing mercy, stopped pretending that philosophical debate and moral restraint are going to end a war that has been grinding on since before most stars in the galaxy were born. Dark Energon is coming. Unicron is stirring. Predacons are on the horizon. And Optimus Prime — the wrong Optimus, the angry Optimus, the Optimus who has an axe and a to-do list and absolutely zero patience left for Decepticon nonsense — is standing between Earth and annihilation with a battle mask, a fusion-powered arsenal, and the haunted memories of a dead barista from Portland who just wanted to finish his coffee. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. But if you threaten those beings? He will take your face.