Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Echo of an Ancient Flame
The Nevada sun was a merciless, white-hot hammer in the cloudless sky, bleaching the asphalt of Route 14 into a shimmering mirage. For Jack Darby, it was just another Tuesday. At twenty-one, life had settled into a comfortable, if somewhat aimless, rhythm. He’d taken a year off from college, a ‘gap year’ that was stretching into its second, to work and save money, though he wasn’t sure what he was saving for. The world felt vast, and his place in it felt frustratingly small. He lived in a small apartment above the town’s only bookstore, a space filled with second-hand paperbacks and the faint, comforting scent of aging paper and ink. His prized possession, a sleek yellow motorcycle, was his only real escape.
He guided the bike through a turn, the engine a low, contented thrum beneath him. The wind whipped at his brown hair, and for a moment, he felt a sense of freedom that always seemed just out of reach when he was standing still. It was on the open road that the dreams felt less real, the nagging sense of a phantom limb less pronounced.
The dreams were always the same: fire. Not the gentle warmth of a campfire, but an all-consuming, righteous inferno. He dreamt of soaring through skies choked with ash, of a world fractured into floating islands, of a colossal, ten-horned dragon wreathed in golden flames, its roar a sound that shook the very foundations of his soul. And there was always a battle, a desperate struggle against a encroaching, formless darkness. He would wake up drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs, the name on the tip of his tongue—a name that dissolved like smoke the moment consciousness returned. It was a feeling of profound loss, the grief for a home he’d never known and a life he’d never lived.
He shook his head, trying to clear the lingering images. It was just stress, his mother would say. His therapist would call it anxiety. Jack called it a nuisance. He pulled into the KO Burger drive-thru, the familiar garish sign a welcome anchor to reality. He ordered a burger and a shake, his mind already drifting to his evening plans. Miko Nakadai, his friend and occasional chaotic whirlwind of a roommate, was probably already planning some ill-advised adventure. At twenty, she was a whirlwind of energy, a photography student who saw the world as a series of vibrant, slightly dangerous candid shots. And then there was Rafael Esquivel, a seventeen-year-old prodigy who could probably reprogram the restaurant’s digital menu from his phone if he felt so inclined. The three of them made an odd trio, but their friendship was one of the few constants in his life.
As he waited for his food, his phone buzzed. A text from Miko.
‘Jack! Emergency! My external hard drive with all my term project photos just DIED. It’s making a clicking noise of pure despair! Raf says he might be able to salvage it, but we need to get to his place ASAP. Can you pick me up from the campus?’
Jack sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. Some things never changed. He typed back a quick ‘On my way’ and pulled out of the drive-thru, the forgotten paper bag on his passenger seat. The campus was on the other side of town, a detour that would take him past the old industrial sector. It was a desolate stretch of road, flanked by derelict warehouses and the skeletal remains of failed businesses. It was also, as he rounded a bend, the stage for something impossible.
A police car, its sirens wailing, was in hot pursuit of a vehicle that defied all logic. It was a muscle car, a deep, sinister purple, but it was moving with a speed and agility that no terrestrial vehicle should possess. It weaved through the abandoned lots, tires screeching in protest, and then, to Jack’s utter astonishment, it transformed.
The process was a symphony of grinding metal and shifting panels. The car’s body folded in on itself, legs and arms extruding from the chassis, a head with glowing red optics snapping into place. It stood thirty feet tall, a hulking robot of jagged angles and malevolent design. It was a nightmare given form.
Jack slammed on his brakes, the motorcycle skidding to a halt on the dusty shoulder. His mind refused to process what he was seeing. This wasn’t a movie. This wasn’t a dream. This was real. The giant robot, which the police car’s increasingly frantic driver was now shooting at with a pistol, turned its attention to the insignificant vehicle. It raised a massive arm, a glowing cannon forming on its forearm.
“No…” Jack whispered, his heart seizing in his chest. He was about to witness a murder.
But then, another sound joined the chaos. A high-pitched, electronic whine that quickly grew into a familiar engine roar. A second vehicle, a sleek, sporty model in a brilliant blue, came racing over the horizon. It didn’t hesitate. It, too, transformed, its shift more fluid and graceful than the purple monster’s. It was another robot, this one slimmer and more agile, its form accentuated with black and pink highlights. It was female, or at least, its design suggested a distinctly feminine persona.
“Knock it off, Knock Out!” the blue robot shouted, her voice a synthesized but clearly feminine alto. She tackled the purple robot, sending them both crashing into the side of a warehouse. The building groaned, metal siding crumpling like tinfoil.
Jack was frozen, a spectator to a battle of gods. The blue robot was fast, landing blows that sparked against the purple one’s armor, but the larger robot was stronger. It backhanded her, sending her stumbling.
“Such a tiresome pest, Arcee,” the purple robot, Knock Out, sneered. “Lord Megatron has more important things to do than deal with Autobot interference.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Arcee retorted, recovering her footing.
Their fight was devastating, each blow shaking the ground. Jack knew he should run. Every instinct screamed at him to get away, to forget he ever saw this. But he couldn’t. His eyes were locked on the blue robot, Arcee. There was something about her, a fierce, unyielding spirit that resonated with a deep, forgotten part of himself. It was the same feeling he had in his dreams, the same desperate need to stand against the darkness.
Knock Out managed to land a solid kick, sending Arcee skidding backwards, straight towards Jack’s hiding spot. She tripped, her massive form falling perilously close to his motorcycle. She was down, and Knock Out was raising his cannon again, aiming for a finishing blow.
This was it. The moment of choice. Run, or…
Run.
But his body didn’t listen. His legs were already moving, carrying him out from behind the dusty embankment. “Hey!” he yelled, his voice sounding thin and pathetic in the face of such overwhelming power. “Leave her alone!”
Knock Out paused, his red optics swiveling to focus on the tiny, foolish human. A look of amusement crossed his metallic face. “Well, well. A local offering himself up as a snack. How thoughtful.”
Arcee, struggling to her knees, stared at him in horror. “Kid, get out of here! Now!”
But Jack couldn’t move. A strange heat was building in his chest, a familiar, yet alien, warmth that spread through his veins. It was the fire from his dreams, a simmering ember that was suddenly being stoked into a flame. He felt a surge of protective fury so intense it was almost blinding. This being, this Autobot, was fighting for something. And she was about to die because of it. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
“Such bravery,” Knock Out mocked, his cannon glowing brighter. “Or perhaps just terminal stupidity. Either way, it ends now.”
A beam of pure, red energy lanced towards Arcee. Time seemed to slow down for Jack. He saw the energy bolt, saw the inevitable conclusion. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, a word, ancient and powerful, echoed in the silent chambers of his mind.
‘Flame…’
The world erupted into a blinding white light. It didn’t come from him, not exactly. It came from the sky. A third figure, impossibly large, plummeted from the heavens, a streak of red and blue that struck the ground between Jack and the energy beam. The impact was cataclysmic, a shockwave of dust and debris that sent Jack flying backwards, his motorcycle clattering to the ground. The energy beam dissipated harmlessly against the newcomer’s broad, outstretched hand.
When the dust settled, Jack could only stare. The new robot was a titan, easily twice the size of the others. His design was noble, powerful, his faceplate a stoic mask of authority. He was a king, a warrior, a living monument.
“Megatron’s dogs will learn to heel,” the titan rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated in Jack’s bones. He turned his gaze, which glowed a calm, steady blue, upon Knock Out. “Or they will be put down.”
Knock Out, for all his bravado, looked genuinely frightened. “Optimus Prime…” he hissed. He transformed back into his car form and sped away, vanishing into the desert.
The giant, Optimus Prime, watched him go before turning his attention to the blue robot, Arcee, who was now on her feet. “Are you injured, Arcee?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, Prime,” she said, though her voice held a new level of respect. She then looked at Jack, who was struggling to sit up, his ears ringing. “But the kid… he tried to help me.”
Optimus Prime knelt, his massive movements surprisingly gentle. His blue optics studied Jack, and in their depths, Jack saw not the coldness of a machine, but an ancient wisdom, a weariness that spoke of countless battles and immense loss. He felt a strange sense of calm wash over him, the fire in his chest receding to a low, warm glow.
“You have shown great courage, human,” Optimus said, his voice softening. “Courage is a rare and valuable commodity in any universe.”
Jack could only nod, his throat too dry to speak. He was on the verge of passing out, the sheer impossibility of the situation crashing down on him.
“We must return to base,” Optimus declared, rising to his full height. He transformed into a massive truck, its engine a low, powerful rumble. Arcee transformed back into her motorcycle form. The driver’s side door on Optimus’s truck cab swung open.
“Get in,” Arcee’s voice said, now emanating from the motorcycle’s speakers. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Jack looked from the giant truck to the sleek motorcycle, then back to his own battered ride. He was in way over his head. But as he climbed into the cab of the colossal Autobot leader, the strange, forgotten warmth in his chest pulsed once, a single, clear thought cutting through the chaos.
This is where I’m supposed to be.
The drive to their ‘base’ was a silent, surreal experience. Jack sat in the passenger seat of a truck that was, impossibly, a living, sentient being. The dashboard was a complex array of glowing lights and holographic displays. The seat was surprisingly comfortable. Outside, the desert landscape blurred past, but Jack’s attention was focused inward. He was grappling with the new reality that had been violently thrust upon him. Giant alien robots were living on Earth, fighting a secret war. And he had just stumbled into the middle of it.
The ‘base’ turned out to be a massive, hollowed-out missile silo. As Optimus drove them down a long ramp and into the cavernous main chamber, Jack’s breath caught in his throat. The silo was a marvel of improvised engineering. Computers and monitors were set up around a central platform, and strange, alien technology was interwoven with human machinery. It was a high-tech command center hidden in plain sight.
Optimus transformed, his movements fluid and precise. Jack climbed out of the cab, his legs feeling unsteady. He saw two other robots waiting for them. One was a large, green and bulky figure, the very picture of a gentle giant. The other was a smaller, yellow robot with a black helmet, who immediately transformed into a familiar Camaro.
“Arcee! Optimus! You’re back!” the yellow one chirped, his voice a series of electronic clicks and whistles that Jack somehow understood. “Who’s the human?”
“His name is Jack Darby,” Arcee said, her motorcycle form rolling to a stop beside him. “He saved my life. Or, at least, he tried to.”
The green robot knelt, his expression kind. “Name’s Bulkhead. It’s an honor to meet a friend of Arcee’s.”
“And I am Bumblebee,” the yellow robot said, his voice a cheerful electronic melody.
Before Jack could respond, a fourth figure emerged from a lower level. He was tall and lanky, colored in red and white, and he moved with a crisp, clinical precision. He held a medical scanner in his hand, which he immediately pointed at Jack.
“Fascinating,” the robot said, his voice tinged with a detached scientific curiosity. “A human. Biological readings are… squishy. And you say he intervened in a battle with Knock Out? The illogical bravery of organic lifeforms never ceases to amaze. I am Ratchet, the chief medical officer of this operation.”
“Jack is our guest, Ratchet,” Optimus said, his tone a gentle but firm reprimand. “He will be treated with respect.”
“Of course, Prime,” Ratchet said, lowering his scanner. “But his presence here complicates things. Our primary directive is to remain hidden.”
“We’ll deal with that,” Optimus said. He then turned his full attention to Jack. “Jack Darby, I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. We are refugees from a war on our home planet of Cybertron, a war that has followed us here. What you witnessed today was a skirmish in that conflict. We are the Autobots, and we fight to protect this world and its inhabitants from our enemies, the Decepticons, who seek to exploit its resources.”
Jack listened, his mind reeling. It was too much, too fast. Cybertron, Autobots, Decepticons. It was the stuff of science fiction, but it was real. The giant robot in front of him was real. The sincerity in his voice was real.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Jack finally managed, his voice hoarse. “This is insane.”
“Your reaction is understandable,” Optimus said. “You have seen things today that no human was ever meant to see. For your own safety, and for the integrity of our mission, we must ask for your discretion.”
“You mean you want me to keep quiet,” Jack said. It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact.
“We would not ask you to carry this burden alone,” Optimus replied. “But your knowledge of our existence makes you a target. The Decepticons would not hesitate to harm you to get to us.”
A cold dread washed over Jack. His life, his simple, aimless life, was over. He was a part of this now, whether he wanted to be or not. He looked at the Autobots, at the diverse group of beings who had made this strange place their home. He saw the nobility in Optimus, the fierce loyalty in Arcee, the gentle strength in Bulkhead, the cheerful spirit in Bumblebee, and even the prickly dedication in Ratchet. He saw a family, fighting a lonely war far from home. And the fire in his chest, the echo of an ancient flame, stirred once more. He couldn’t turn his back on them.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Jack said, his voice firm with a conviction that surprised even him. “I promise.”
Before Optimus could respond, the base’s main alarm blared. Ratchet rushed to a console. “We’ve got a problem! Two more human life signs just entered the silo’s perimeter! They’re with the kid’s motorcycle!”
Jack’s heart sank. Miko and Raf. He’d completely forgotten about them. He’d told Miko he was picking her up. She must have gotten worried when he didn’t show up and tracked his phone.
“They’re my friends,” Jack said quickly. “Miko Nakadai and Rafael Esquivel. They must have followed me.”
“This is a disaster!” Ratchet groaned. “One human is a security risk. Three is a catastrophe!”
The main entrance to the silo slid open, and two figures stood silhouetted against the bright desert sun. Miko, with her vibrant pink hair and ever-present camera, was staring wide-eyed at the giant robots. Raf, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, had a look of pure, unadulterated glee on his face.
“Jack…” Miko said, her voice a hushed whisper. “You have some explaining to do.”
Raf, however, was already moving forward, his eyes fixed on Ratchet’s console. “Is that a quantum harmonic resonator? And is that a Cybertronian data-stream? This is… this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”
Optimus Prime watched the two newcomers, his expression unreadable. He then looked at Jack, a flicker of something like understanding in his blue optics. The situation had escalated far beyond his control. But as Jack looked at his two friends, one terrified and one ecstatic, he felt a strange sense of rightness. His life had been small, but now, it was expanding, becoming part of something much, much larger.
He didn’t know what the future held. He didn’t know the dangers he would face. But as he stood there, in the heart of an alien command center, surrounded by giant robots and his two best friends, the feeling of being lost, of being a small piece in a vast, uncaring universe, began to fade. He was still Jack Darby, a twenty-one-year-old from Nevada. But he was also something more. He just didn’t know what yet.
The dreams, the fire, the feeling of a forgotten life—it was all connected to this. He was sure of it. And as he looked up at the towering form of Optimus Prime, a sense of profound, unshakeable trust settled in his heart. He was where he was supposed to be. The journey to remembering who he truly was had just begun.