Inside the National Air and Space Museum, Leo shuffled out of the restroom with his pants bunched around his knees, limping forward. While mentally cursing this pathetic excuse for a plan, he waved frantically at a museum guard standing nearby.
"Hey! Brother, I've got a problem! I'm out of paper, you got any over there?"
Drawn by the sudden shouting, a guard in a white security uniform reached for the stun baton at his waist and marched toward Leo. "Sir, please do not run around with your rear exposed. I suggest you get back in the restroom. You're halfway to being a flasher!"
"Listen," Leo said, waddling toward the guard like a penguin. "I appreciate the concern, but as you can see, this is an emergency! Just give me some paper, I'll finish up and leave. I won't take up much of your time."
"Sir, either stay where you are or pull up your pants," another guard called out, joining the first.
At this hour, the last few tourists had just departed. The guards' attention was entirely focused on Leo, leaving them oblivious to the three heads peeking out from behind the turnstiles at the main entrance. Taking the opportunity, Simmons quickly slipped inside, followed by Sam and Mikaela, who was carrying a small iron box.
"Sir, this is a family-oriented museum. You should really be ashamed of yourself." Inside the restroom, a guard handed a roll of toilet paper over the stall door to the semi-nude man who had finally been persuaded to retreat.
"You're a lifesaver, thank you." Leo looked at the large hand reaching over the partition, then glanced at the taser in his own hand. Steeling his nerves, he jammed the trigger.
Bzzzt!Thud.
The guard collapsed instantly, falling stiff as a board.
A moment later, Leo poked his head out from the stall and saw the guard still twitching on the floor. Without stopping to properly hitch up his pants, he dashed out. Meanwhile, the remaining guards outside had been neutralized one by one by Simmons, ensuring they couldn't call for help.
As a former Sector 7 agent, Simmons still possessed these skills. Despite spent over a year bagging groceries and pies, he hadn't lost his touch.
"What's going on here? What are you doing, kid?" Simmons walked into the restroom and found two people on the floor. One was a guard; the other was Leo.
"I... didn't... mean to..." Leo's speech was staggered, and a faint smell of burnt hair wafted from his mouth. It turned out that because his pants were down, he had tripped while approaching the guard, and the taser in his right hand had jammed directly into his own chest as he fell.
"You're a total amateur. A hack," Simmons barked, dragging Leo out of the restroom.
Soon, the four converged at the entrance of the non-exhibition storage area.
"The five guards are taken care of. We need someone to keep watch."
Finding everyone's eyes on him, Leo—who had just regained his motor functions—asked in disbelief, "Me? The lookout?"
"Bingo, kid!" Simmons pulled an oversized radiation detector from his bag and slapped Leo on the shoulder. "This heavy responsibility belongs to you alone."
The little Decepticon had only mentioned that a sleeping Seeker was hidden in this museum, but they had to find out which one for themselves. Sam pulled out a transparent glass container and carefully used tweezers to lift a shard. He figured that if the AllSpark was as powerful as Optimus described, perhaps a mere fragment could work some magic—like locating the dormant explorer.
"Whoa, there it is." Wheelie hopped out of the iron box and sighed at the sight of the AllSpark shard, before grumbling to Mikaela. "Next time, can I get a room with a view? I'm claustrophobic."
"Just do your job!" Mikaela rolled her eyes and gave Wheelie a light kick.
With Simmons holding the detector, Sam holding the shard, and Mikaela following Wheelie, they scrambled through the storage hangers. Before long, Wheelie seemed to sense something. He transformed into a toy truck and sped off in a straight line.
"Look! Look!" Mikaela shouted to Sam. "He knows where to go. Follow him!"
"What's happening? Where is he taking us?" Simmons hurried over. The three of them ran deep into the non-exhibition area, following the increasingly fast Wheelie.
Finally, they came to a halt before an ancient SR-71 Blackbird. Simmons immediately raised his detector, pointing it at the nose of the plane and clicking the switch.
Beep—
"It's this one!" Simmons panted, looking from the readings to the massive jet. "We found him. Now what?"
"Check him out," Wheelie transformed into his robot mode and approached the Blackbird. "This guy is a straight-up miracle, just like The Fallen."
"Young man, yeah, you!" Wheelie pointed at Sam.
"What do I need to do?" Sam asked, confused.
"Put that shard on him. See if you can wake him up."
"Uh, okay." Sam nodded instinctively, walking toward the Blackbird with the shard held out. As he drew near, before he even made contact, the shard seemed to be pulled by a magnetic force. It flew onto the jet's fuselage and sank into the metal, vanishing.
Immediately, the entire Blackbird began to ripple with energy waves. Hummm—
Seeing the sudden change, Mikaela dashed beneath the Blackbird to get a closer look at a symbol she had glimpsed earlier. Carved into the undercarriage was a familiar mechanical face.
It was the Decepticon insignia.
"Shit! It's a Decepticon!" Mikaela cried out, grabbing a dazed Sam and pulling him back.
"What? A Decepticon?" Simmons panicked, dropping his detector and sprinting toward a fighter jet nearby. "Get behind this!"
The three of them huddled under the wing of the fighter, eyes fixed on the Blackbird. Wheelie followed belatedly, only to be swatted away by Mikaela, who felt cheated.
Within thirty seconds, the Blackbird split apart amidst a cacophony of grinding metal, eventually transforming into a hunched, elderly Decepticon leaning on a mechanical cane. The robot stood forty feet tall, his chassis covered in rust and dents, with multicolored wires exposed at his joints. His face featured human-like wrinkles, drooping mechanical structures, and a beard made of scrap metal shards. Long whiskers shaped like katanas extended from his sideburns. He was unmistakably an elder.
Wheelie's information had been slightly off. This wasn't just some hidden explorer; it was a legendary, ancient Decepticon—Jetfire.
"Where am I?" Jetfire tapped his dilapidated helmet, revealing two glowing orange-red eyes as he surveyed his surroundings. "Is this a graveyard?"
He quickly spotted the three humans hiding under the fighter jet. "Who are you? Answer me! Identify yourselves, or I'll ground you into dust!"
As he moved, Jetfire's body creaked and groaned like a failing piece of ancient machinery.
"Okay, okay! We surrender!" Simmons walked out first, hands raised above his head.
"Oh... wait. It's you bipeds." Jetfire tapped his head. He was old—so old he couldn't remember how many years he had lived, let alone the people and events of the past.
"Excuse me..." Sam asked, gathering his courage. "Are you a Seeker?"
"A Seeker? No, I am not." Jetfire shook his head, pointing his cane at Sam. "I am Jetfire! Remember the name!"
"I am the leader of the Seekers, remember the eternal glory of Jetfire!"
"Whoa, this guy's got some ego," Wheelie muttered, crawling closer.
"Out of the way, you insect!" Jetfire snapped. He seemed to have a terrible temper, grumbling as he hobbled toward the museum's rear exit, shedding small parts along the way.
"I command this door to open! Open!" At the rear exit, Jetfire pointed his cane again.
"Is this guy's processor malfunctioning?" Simmons asked, lowering his hands.
"Useless scrap! Enabling remote weapon systems... Fire!" Seeing the door remain shut, Jetfire switched to lethal force.
Fwoosh—
A missile arced from behind Jetfire, slamming into the semi-circular alloy doors with a thunderous blast. Crash— The doors collapsed outward.
"Okay," Simmons said, his expression blank. "I take back what I said. He's pretty impressive."
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