Sunlight broke over the outskirts of Tranquility, casting long rays over acres of twisted metal and rusting steel. The old Bennett Junkyard, once forgotten, had become Zayden's unofficial training ground. Out here, among the decaying frames of cars and mountains of scrap, he could be himself—test his alien forms, train his reflexes, and hit things without worrying about property damage.
A rust-covered crane towered at the center of the yard like a metal tree, and Zayden stood atop it, arms crossed as he scanned the landscape. His thoughts drifted back to the dream—Cybertron, Alpha Trion, and the warning of Airachnid. The memory still felt electric in his veins.
> "You sure you want to do this training sequence again, Zayden?" came NEX's voice through his neural link.
"Physical systems have recovered only 86% since last night's transformation. Caution is advised."
"Danger doesn't wait until I'm fully rested," Zayden muttered. "Let's crank the difficulty. Simulate two Decepticon-class targets."
> "Confirmed. Generating combat scenario: Scrapcrusher and Talonbyte."
The Omnitrix pulsed—and green light erupted.
With a flash, Zayden became Shockhowl, a transformation he'd fine-tuned himself—part alien wolf, part steel-armored hunter, equipped with sonic vibration claws and shockwave propulsion legs.
Instantly, the junk around him twisted, holographic projections emerging with simulated growls. Two monstrous figures made of hard-light charged him from opposite sides.
Zayden moved like lightning. One claw sliced through a simulated Talonbyte, dispersing it in a ripple of light. He flipped backward, then howled—a sonic pulse tearing through the simulation and collapsing it.
> "Time: 13.2 seconds. Efficiency rating: 91%," NEX noted.
Zayden reverted, panting. "Still not enough. Airachnid's real. These are just light shows."
He hopped down from the crane, boots crunching gravel.
As he approached a rusted shipping container he'd turned into a personal gear shack, he noticed something unusual—a trail of fresh tire tracks in the dust. But these weren't normal tires.
They were heavy. Weighted. And wide.
Autobot-wide.
Zayden's heart jumped.
"Someone was here…"
He turned, scanning the scrap heaps—when suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the far end of the yard.
Zayden bolted toward it.
---
He rounded a pile of crushed SUVs to find a humanoid figure crouched beside an upturned bus. A sleek, feminine frame, cobalt blue and silver, with glowing pink optics. Twin wheels folded neatly into her legs. She was examining something on the ground with a careful hand.
Zayden froze. His breath caught in his throat.
"Arcee…"
She turned quickly, one arm morphing into a blaster as her optics locked onto him. Her stance was defensive, quick—but when she saw the Omnitrix on his wrist, her guard eased slightly.
"You're the one," she said. "The signal I've been tracking."
Zayden took a cautious step forward. "How do you know me?"
"I don't," she replied, standing up fully—easily two heads taller than him. "But the Matrix echoes in your presence. Whatever you are, Prime needs to know."
Zayden hesitated. "Prime… You mean Optimus?"
Arcee nodded, then glanced around warily. "The Decepticons have started hunting for the Omnitrix. I intercepted a scout near here. He self-destructed before I could extract data, but the fact that they know about you means time is short."
Zayden swallowed hard. "I'm… still figuring out what this thing is. I had a vision—Alpha Trion. He said I was connected to Cybertron. To the war."
Arcee stepped closer, scanning his body with a faint hum of light. "Your energy signature isn't entirely organic. But you're no Cybertronian either. You're something… new."
Zayden looked up at her, heart pounding from the sheer surrealism of it all. "I didn't ask for any of this. But if there's a chance I can help… I want to."
Arcee's optics softened.
"You've got courage," she said. "Reminds me of someone I used to know."
"Let me guess. Jack?"
She blinked. "How—?"
Zayden smiled. "Long story. Let's just say, I've seen a few things others haven't."
There was a pause between them—quiet but not uncomfortable.
"I've been training here," he said, motioning to the surrounding junkyard. "It's not much, but it's something."
She nodded, thoughtful. "Then let me help."
Zayden blinked. "What?"
Arcee crouched down, leveling her gaze to his. "If you're really going to stand against the Decepticons, you need more than raw power. You need strategy. Focus. You need to think like a Cybertronian."
Zayden grinned. "So, what… you gonna be my alien sensei?"
Arcee smirked. "Something like that."
---
The next few hours became a blur of drills and sparring. Arcee taught him how to anticipate movement patterns, analyze terrain in combat, and conserve energy while transformed. Every time Zayden faltered, she corrected him with military precision—blunt, but fair.
He admired her—her strength, her speed, but also her discipline.
And when she transformed into her sleek motorcycle form, revving her engine before skidding into a training exercise, Zayden found himself smiling in a way he hadn't in days.
> "New data logged," NEX noted internally.
"User displays elevated heart rate and serotonin response. Possible emotional imprint: Arcee."
---
As the sun dipped behind the horizon once again, Zayden collapsed onto a pile of tires, gasping for air, chest drenched in sweat.
Arcee stood nearby, arms crossed, the last rays of sunlight gleaming off her frame.
"You're better than I expected," she said. "Still green, but you learn fast."
Zayden gave a tired thumbs-up. "I aim to impress."
Arcee turned slightly, gazing at the rising moon. "Tomorrow, we find Optimus. The real fight's coming."
Zayden sat up, resolve solidifying in his chest. "Then let's give the Decepticons something to fear."