“A strategic option,” Ironhide grumbled, his cannons twitching. “Or I could shoot it. See what happens.”
“He’ll come back,” she whispered.
Lennox straightened his uniform. “Then we buy you a window. How long do you need?” transformers.2007
Lennox’s ears were still ringing from the battle of Mission City. The acrid smell of melted asphalt and burnt ozone clung to everything. In the center of the devastation, Optimus Prime—the towering, red-and-blue leader of the Autobots—knelt on one knee. His optics, usually blazing with the warmth of a campfire, were dimmed to a soft, weary glow. Lennox straightened his uniform
“If we do this,” Sam said, his voice cracking but growing stronger, “can you fix him? Can you bring Bumblebee back?” The acrid smell of melted asphalt and burnt
As the sun rose over the cratered ruins of Mission City, the surviving Autobots gathered. Ratchet worked delicate tools on Bumblebee’s chest, a soft blue glow emanating from the wound. Ironhide stood sentinel. Jazz scanned the horizon.
“Forty-eight hours,” Optimus said. “To repair the Ark’s space bridge. To prepare.”