Chapter Text
The signal first appeared as a faint distortion on the radar—four Cybertronian signatures breaching the atmosphere almost simultaneously. It wasn’t alarming enough to justify calling the entire team in, so Optimus ordered his best scout—and his partner—to investigate what had been detected.
Bumblebee hurried to the impact site. The dust had not yet settled when Breakdown arrived and saw the ship’s hangar opening. His optics widened in disbelief.
"No…" he whispered.
The first to emerge and transform was Wildrider, laughing even before fully locking into robot mode.
"Breakdown! I knew you were still alive!" he shouted.
Dead End descended more slowly, scanning the surroundings with a tense expression.
"This is a terrible idea. This organic place. Reuniting like this. This is definitely not going to end well."
Dragstrip stepped out next, surveying the area, noticing Bumblebee’s presence before finally turning his attention to Breakdown.
"Well, this is interesting," he murmured.
The last to materialize was Motormaster.
She didn’t speak immediately. She simply looked Breakdown up and down, assessing him with a calm that was far more intimidating than any shout.
Breakdown swallowed… and then smiled.
"Wow, you guys made it. It’s been a long time. I’m glad you’re alive."
He wasn’t fooling anyone. The tension in his voice betrayed how nervous he was at seeing the rest of the Stunticons.
Motormaster, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward until she stood directly in front of him. She gripped his shoulder guards firmly.
"We have arrived."
Then she pulled him into a brief embrace.
"And you’re intact."
Breakdown let out a nervous laugh.
"Of course I am. As you can see. It must have been a long trip—you must be exhausted from traveling through space."
For a moment, everything felt… normal.
Until Wildrider tilted his head and looked at Bumblebee.
"And who’s that, Breakdown? Why are you bringing him along?"
Bumblebee raised a hand automatically.
"Well, now that we’re all here, I’m—"
"I wasn’t asking you, little yellow bot," Wildrider cut in. "I asked him."
Breakdown hesitated, unsure how to approach it.
Motormaster noticed.
"Breakdown? We’re waiting for you to introduce your friend," she said calmly.
"It’s Bumblebee," he replied at last. "He’s my conjunx."
Silence fell like a block of metal.
Dead End reacted first.
"Oh no. No, no, no, no. Breakdown, what did you do while we were gone? This is very bad."
Wildrider grinned.
"So Bumblebee is your conjux, huh?" He looked Bumblebee up and down. "Didn’t waste any time while we were away, Breakdown."
Motormaster turned her helm toward Bumblebee. Her gaze was cold.
"No."
Bumblebee blinked.
"Excuse me—what does that ‘no’ mean?"
"I do not accept this," Motormaster repeated. "My brother is not available. We do not approve you as his conjunx."
Breakdown stepped forward.
"Motormaster, listen—"
"No," she said again, without raising her voice. "We have just reunited, and the first thing I discover is that someone is attempting to claim you without even understanding what that entails. And judging by Bumblebee’s reaction, he is unaware of the trials."
"What trials?" Bumblebee asked, confused by where this conversation was going.
Wildrider burst into laughter.
"You didn’t tell him?"
Breakdown exhaled slowly.
"Bee… there’s something I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think I would have to. I didn’t think I’d ever see my siblings again." He turned back to his family. "Among us… when someone wants to court a Stunticon, mutual interest isn’t enough. They have to prove they can handle it."
Bumblebee frowned.
"Handle… what exactly?"
"Us," Motormaster answered.
Wildrider stepped forward, clearly delighted.
"Don’t worry, little yellow friend. It’s a family tradition. Nothing personal."
"They’re trials," Breakdown explained quietly. "If you fail them, the gestalt does not approve the relationship."
"Okay, that sounds ridiculous—no offense. Has anyone ever even passed these trials?" Bee asked.
Wildrider’s grin widened.
"Oh, absolutely."
Motormaster sighed, irritated.
"It is irrelevant whether someone passed before. We must focus on Breakdown’s situation."
"Silverbolt passed when he wanted to court our sister," Wildrider added.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Motormaster’s dermas tightened.
"I see. So Silverbolt went through this too—and succeeded." Bumblebee straightened. "Then I suppose I’ll have to try as well."
"No, Bee, you don’t have to. I’ll talk to them. You don’t need to do this," Breakdown said, the concern clear in his voice.
"I understand they’re your family. And apparently this matters to them. I don’t want to put you at odds with your siblings. They just got here. And relax, Breakdown—there’s nothing I can’t handle."
Wildrider laughed.
"He’s got nerve. I like him."
Motormaster fixed Bumblebee with a steady stare.
"Very well. But do not say we did not warn you."
"So when do we start?" Bee asked.
At how determined he sounded, Breakdown felt his spark race.
"There are rules," Dragstrip said smoothly. "The trials are not punishment. We will not engage in physical combat with you. They are compatibility verifications with the gestalt. The trials will not be conducted on the same day. The cumulative emotional strain is part of the process—but it must not compromise the candidate’s functional integrity."
Bumblebee blinked.
"Was that… an elegant way of saying you want me to really think about this?"
"Correct. Each trial will have a minimum interval of one Earth cycle," Dragstrip replied.
Dead End shuddered slightly.
"We will keep you in a state of constant anxiety."
Dragstrip pointed at a list on his datapad.
"The order of the trials may vary randomly, but each of us will administer one. The final trial will be conducted collectively by the gestalt. As of now, the tentative order is as follows…"
He scrolled.
"First trial: Wildrider."
Wildrider immediately grinned.
"Don’t worry, my yellow friend. I’ll be indulgent."
"Second trial: Dead End."
Dead End didn’t react much. He simply tilted his head slightly.
"Third trial: myself."
Dragstrip’s smile sharpened.
"And the final individual trial will be conducted by: Motormaster."
He set the datapad aside.
"The final evaluation will be collective, as previously stated. It will be a gestalt decision. Do you have any questions?"
Bumblebee studied them carefully before asking,
"What happens if I fail?"
Breakdown stiffened immediately.
"Bee…"
Dead End lifted his head.
"If you fail, nothing bad happens immediately."
Bumblebee blinked.
"Immediately?"
"You’ll have to step away from Breakdown. No fighting. No scene. It ends. You had your chance, and you failed," Dead End said evenly. "After that, Breakdown will say he respects the result. Motormaster will tell him it’s for his own good. And as a gestalt, we will understand that it is the best outcome."
Silence.
"Then I can’t fail," Bee said.
Dead End looked at him with an uncomfortable mixture of pity and respect.
"It’s interesting that you say that."
Breakdown shot his brother a look.
"What was that supposed to mean?"
Dead End sighed.
"You see, Breakdown… the ones who say that are usually the ones who fail the hardest."
Bumblebee locked optics with him.
"Oh, believe me when I say this — I won’t fail. I’ll pass every single test you throw at me. You’ll see."
Dead End smiled faintly.
"I hope you’re right."
"Now we must resolve logistics," Dragstrip said.
The Stunticons gathered in a tight cluster. Wildrider leaned in to speak quietly with Dragstrip. Motormaster stood with her back turned, completely still — clearly thinking far too much.
Breakdown remained beside Bumblebee, silent, hands clasped together as if unsure what to do with them.
For a moment, they were alone.
Neither spoke.
Breakdown broke the silence first.
"Listen, Bee… I’m sorry I never told you about this before. Honestly, I never thought I’d see my siblings again. I didn’t think it was necessary to explain something that would probably never happen. I’ll understand if you’re upset."
Bumblebee looked at him.
"Relax, Breakdown. I’m not upset. Don’t worry — I’ll beat every test your siblings put in front of me."
Breakdown squeezed his servos nervously.
"Just… don’t take anything they do personally. They think they’re protecting me. And sometimes they are. Really. But sometimes… they decide for me. Our relationship has always been complicated. And as a gestalt, it’s even more complicated. When we combine, losing control is normal. What I’m trying to say is… even if it doesn’t look like it, we care about each other. When the space bridge was destroyed, I truly thought it was over. That I would never see them again."
"You don’t have to explain all that to me," Bee replied softly. "I understand. I’m not judging you."
Breakdown hesitated.
"When Motormaster said no… a part of me wanted to accept it without arguing."
Something tightened painfully in Bumblebee’s chest.
"And now?"
Breakdown lifted his gaze.
"Now you’re here. Accepting trials that aren’t your responsibility."
"They are my responsibility. We’re in this together. Although… I’ll admit something."
Breakdown blinked.
"The trials scare you?"
"No," Bee said quietly. "Failing you does."
Breakdown closed his optics.
"Bee… you could never fail me."
They moved a little closer.
They didn’t touch.
Not yet.
From the shadows, unnoticed, Dead End watched them for a moment… and then turned away.
Motormaster stepped toward Breakdown.
"You’re staying with us. The ship is prepared."
Breakdown hesitated for only a second before answering,
"No."
Motormaster blinked.
"No?"
"I live at the Autobot headquarters now. I have a room there," Breakdown said.
Motormaster frowned.
"That was before we arrived on this planet. The prudent thing would be for you to stay with us. You should stay with your family."
"Since I’ve been with Bee, the Autobots are my family too. You know that. They’re my home as well."
Bumblebee felt something tighten painfully in his spark, but he said nothing.
Motormaster stepped closer.
Breakdown met her gaze and repeated,
"I am with my family. With the ones who gave me a place when I was alone."
Dragstrip observed the scene in attentive silence.
"Sleeping at the Autobot base does not invalidate the trials. In fact, it increases their emotional validity."
Motormaster clenched her jaw. Dead End sighed. Wildrider laughed.
Bumblebee stepped forward.
"When does the first trial start?"
Dragstrip looked at him directly.
"Tomorrow. Rest. You will need it."
Breakdown reached for Bumblebee’s hand and took it.
Motormaster watched them for another second… then turned toward the ship without a word. The other Stunticons followed her. The ramp closed behind them with a soft hiss.
Bumblebee and Breakdown understood the conversation was over. They needed to return to Autobot headquarters.
The walk was short. Familiar.
They didn’t speak the entire way.
When they arrived, Breakdown was the first to stop.
"I’m going to my room. I need to… think for a bit," he said, gesturing toward the hallway.
Bumblebee nodded immediately.
"Yeah. Of course."
An awkward pause settled between them.
Breakdown hesitated, as if wanting to say something else, but in the end he only leaned slightly toward him.
"Thank you for staying with me," he murmured.
Bumblebee smiled softly.
"Always."
Breakdown walked down the corridor, heavy but steady steps, until he disappeared behind an automatic door that closed with a muted click.
Bumblebee stood there for a second longer… then turned.
***
Optimus was near the central console when Bumblebee approached.
"Optimus. About the signal Cosmos detected."
Optimus immediately lifted his optics.
"What did you and Breakdown find?"
"Yeah… about that. It was the Stunticons."
Optimus frowned slightly.
"Any signs of hostility?" He paused. "You and Breakdown were gone for quite some time. Did something occur that I should be aware of?"
"They’re not here to attack. They’re here for Breakdown."
Optimus processed that in silence.
"What is their objective?"
"They want to stay near him. They’re remaining in their ship. Trust me, Optimus — for now, they have no intention of endangering this planet."
Optimus nodded slowly.
"That explains the trajectory and lack of offensive maneuvers."
Bumblebee lowered his voice.
"I know they’re still Decepticons, but… they didn’t come to fight. Well. At least not with the Autobots."
Optimus regarded him carefully.
"Thank you for reporting this immediately. Cosmos and the sensor team will maintain passive observation."
From a distance, Cosmos adjusted the monitors, confirming the Stunticon ship fading into camouflage patterns.
Somewhere not far from there, a family was preparing to test someone who was not one of their own.
And Bumblebee… was preparing to prove his worth.
The Autobot base was already in rest mode; most of them were supposed to be asleep. Bumblebee remained seated in the common area, his back against a column, optics fixed on an indistinct point on the floor.
Robby was the first to notice.
"Hey Bee, are you okay? You seem a little nervous."
Bumblebee looked up.
"Am I that obvious?"
"A little," Mo replied, sitting down beside him. "You've adjusted that panel like five times."
Bumblebee let out a short laugh.
"Tomorrow I have a 'trial' imposed by a group of emotionally intense Decepticons."
Robby exchanged a look with Mo.
"I was reading about the Stunticons in the comics and… they're not exactly stable. Whatever issue you have with them, you should be able to handle it."
That caught everyone else's attention.
Wheeljack turned from his workbench.
"Those comics you mentioned, Robby—when you say not stable, what do you mean? I don't remember much about them from the war on Cybertron, to be honest."
"Well, they tend to be pretty intense and prone to losing control. Especially Wildrider. And their leader, Motormaster, can be… intense."
"That's putting it mildly," Arcee muttered. "I had a direct confrontation with her once. She's strong—very strong—but she lost control, which gave me the chance to escape. But Bee, what kind of problem could you possibly have with them?"
"You see, Arcee, I just can't help being popular," Bee joked weakly.
No one laughed.
He sighed.
"Okay… actually, the other Stunticons are against my relationship with Breakdown. They don't approve. Apparently they have this strange Gestalt tradition where I have to pass certain trials for them to accept me as Breakdown's partner."
"That's not fair, Bee," Arcee said immediately.
"No one should have to 'prove' they deserve to be with someone," Mo added.
Bumblebee lowered his gaze.
"They think they're protecting him."
"That doesn't make it right," Arcee replied. "If you want, I can go with you tomorrow. Just to be there. Moral support. I'm not letting you face this alone."
"Count us in," Robby said.
"Yeah," Mo added. "Don't think we're leaving you to deal with this by yourself. And if anything goes wrong, someone needs to teach those Stunticons a lesson. They don't get to decide things for everyone."
Bumblebee looked at them, surprised… and clearly moved.
"Thank you. Really."
From the other side of the room, a deep voice spoke for the first time.
"I do not agree with their method, but I understand the weight of tradition. If Motormaster believes this is necessary, I could attempt to mediate."
Megatron stood with his arms crossed, optics fixed on Bumblebee.
Bumblebee lifted his head sharply.
"Seriously?"
Before Megatron could answer, Optimus stepped forward.
"Megatron, I believe you should not interfere."
Megatron looked at him, surprised.
"Why not?"
"Because this is not a war or a political negotiation," Optimus replied. "It is personal."
He looked at Bumblebee.
"And I believe Bee must resolve it himself. Your intervention could be interpreted as a threat. I trust that Bee can handle this."
Megatron tightened his jaw.
"That was not my intention."
"I know, old friend. But Motormaster does not trust easily. And certainly not you."
Megatron exhaled, frustrated.
"Then I will observe. Nothing more. I will do nothing that might provoke Motormaster or any other Stunticon."
Bumblebee stood slowly.
"Thank you. Both of you."
Optimus inclined his head slightly.
"I trust you, Bumblebee."
That carried more weight than any speech.
When the room fell silent again, Bumblebee headed toward his quarters. Before entering, he paused for a moment. Tomorrow he would have to face Wildrider. A family that did not know him.
But he was not alone.
And that… made all the difference.
***
Bumblebee woke before any alarm could sound.
The monitors in his room marked an early cycle. The Autobot base was still in partial rest mode, emergency lights glowing softly, the steady hum of support systems filling the air.
He sat up slowly.
For a moment, he remained seated at the edge of the berth, optics dim.
"Today's the day," he murmured.
He thought of Breakdown.
Of the way he'd squeezed his hand the night before.
Of the way he'd said thank you as if he wasn't used to someone choosing to stay.
Bumblebee closed his optics briefly—
A soft chime interrupted his thoughts.
The door slid open slightly, and a small silhouette peeked in.
"Bee?"
He smiled immediately.
"Twitch? What are you doing up this early?"
Hashtag and Jawbreaker appeared behind her, clearly awake as well.
"We couldn't sleep," Hashtag admitted. "Okay, I couldn't sleep."
"I did sleep," Jawbreaker said, raising a hand. "But then I woke up and remembered today was important."
Bumblebee stood.
"You guys… you didn't have to—"
"Yes, we did. We're not letting you do this alone," Nightshade interrupted, appearing in the doorway.
Thrash stepped in behind them.
"Don't worry, Bee. Whatever happens, we're on your side."
Something warm tightened in Bumblebee's spark.
From the hallway, a tall figure paused at the sight of the gathered group.
"I see I was not the only one to wake early," Optimus said.
Bumblebee straightened slightly.
"Sorry if I—"
"No," Optimus interrupted gently. "There is nothing to apologize for."
He stepped closer and rested a servo on Bumblebee's shoulder.
"I trust you. I know you will overcome whatever trial awaits."
Bumblebee nodded.
"Thanks, Optimus."
Far outside the base, the radar detected movement.
***
Breakdown woke before the Autobot base switched out of night mode.
For years, he had learned to sleep with one optic open, even when he claimed he was safe. And although the Autobot base was calm—too calm, sometimes—that morning his spark did not understand the concept of safety.
He slowly sat up on the recharge platform, placing his feet against the cool floor of the room.
It was his room.
It had been for a long time.
A simple space. No Stunticon markings. No signs of war. No Decepticon insignias. Something he had built piece by piece…
And now there was something else.
His siblings had returned.
It had been years since he last saw them—since the destruction of the space bridge severed all connection between Cybertron and Earth.
Wildrider.
Dead End.
Dragstrip.
Motormaster.
Family.
Family he had left behind when he became stranded on Earth.
Family whose rules he had ignored because, at the time, there was no one there to remind him. No three siblings constantly at his side. No overprotective, possessive elder sister watching his every move.
Breakdown dragged a servo across his faceplate and thought of Bumblebee—of how natural everything between them had become.
There had been no trials.
No permissions.
Just two bots choosing each other.
Until now.
It wasn’t fair to him, he thought.
Bumblebee hadn’t chosen to face the Stunticons.
He had only chosen to stay by his side.
A soft chime signaled activity in the hallway, but no one entered. It was still early. Bee was probably still recharging.
Breakdown closed his optics for a moment.
He knew Motormaster wasn’t doing this out of cruelty.
He knew the trials were a tradition born from fear—fear of losing one another.
But he knew something else, too.
He had already chosen.
And now Bumblebee was paying the price for a rule Breakdown had decided to ignore.
He stood and looked at the door.
Part of him wanted to go find Bee. To tell him he didn’t have to do this. That they could face whatever came next together.
But he also knew that interfering now would only make his siblings angrier.
As the base slowly grew louder with the start of the day cycle, Breakdown rose fully to his feet, spark tight in his chest.
For the first time in years, his past and his present were colliding.
And Bumblebee was standing right in the middle of it.
He already knew what he had to do.
***
Wildrider appeared at the entrance of the Autobot headquarters without the slightest trace of subtlety.
"I’m here for Bumblebee."
The silence that followed was immediate.
Optimus lifted his gaze from the command console, evaluating him. There was no open hostility in Wildrider’s stance.
"He is not a prisoner," Optimus clarified. "If Bumblebee chooses to go, it will be of his own will."
Wildrider smiled.
"I didn’t come to drag him away. I came to escort him. There’s a difference."
Bumblebee, who had known this moment would come, stepped forward before anyone else could intervene.
"I’m ready."
Robby and Mo exchanged a quick look. Nightshade moved a little closer. Twitch tilted her head in silent support. Hashtag clenched her fists nervously. Jawbreaker let out a low sound. Thrash hovered nearby, trying to look encouraging.
"You’re not going alone, Bee. Remember that," Mo said.
Wildrider looked at them one by one.
"Don’t worry. You can come. Just follow me."
The place chosen for the trial was wide, open, deliberately neutral.
A space meant for observation… and judgment.
When Wildrider left Bumblebee at the designated point, he leaned against a tree, staring at him.
"Let’s hope your friends show up."
Gradually, the Autobots who had volunteered to support Bumblebee arrived as well.
The Terrans gathered close to him.
"No matter what happens, we’ll find a way through it," Twitch said.
"Whatever those Stunticons say doesn’t define your love for Breakdown," Hashtag added.
Jawbreaker nodded. Nightshade gave him a firm look. Thrash wrapped his arms around him from behind.
Bumblebee took a deep breath.
He wasn’t alone.
And right now, that was everything.
***
Meanwhile, Breakdown knew what he had to do.
He had decided to confront his sister.
Motormaster was aboard the Stunticon ship, reviewing data with a rigid expression when Breakdown entered.
"That rule—there’s no need to put Bee through this. We’ve been together for a long time. There’s nothing to prove."
Motormaster did not turn immediately.
"You know very well we’re not testing the love Bumblebee feels for you," she said from her seat at the data console. "We’re protecting ourselves. It’s a safeguard."
"Protection for who?" Breakdown stepped forward. "It’s been years since I last saw you. I know what I’m doing. If even Optimus and Megatron aren’t objecting or intervening, I don’t see why you need to."
Motormaster finally looked at him.
"Bumblebee is facing something that isn’t his burden to carry," Breakdown continued. "I’ve been with him for years. Years. You weren’t there. He was."
The silence tightened.
"Breakdown, don’t think poorly of us," she said, lowering her voice. "Leaving you on Earth was not our choice. And now that we’re finally here, we just want to reconnect. When we discovered you were with someone, we did what was only fair. When you were stranded on Earth, we were on Cybertron. No news. No signals. Nothing."
Her fingers pressed against the command table.
"The only thing that told us you were still alive was the gestalt bond. That and nothing else. Every time I felt it stable—every time it didn’t fracture—it was the only proof you were still out there somewhere."
"Then look at me now," Breakdown insisted. "After all this time apart. Do you really think this is fair?"
Motormaster held his gaze for several seconds.
"What I think," she replied, "is that loving someone outside the Stunticons has always been a risk. We have each other. That should be enough."
Breakdown clenched his fists.
"Does that justify putting Bee through this?"
Motormaster exhaled slowly.
"I’m not punishing him. Or you. I’m trying to prevent it from happening again."
"It’s not the same," Breakdown shot back. "I didn’t leave by choice. And Bee isn’t a threat."
"But he’s external," she answered firmly. "And whether we like it or not, that has always been a risk for us."
Silence fell again.
"You built a life here," she continued more softly. "A relationship. A home. I’m glad you did. Truly. But while you were growing… we were surviving."
Breakdown’s optics tightened.
"So what am I supposed to do? Stand there while you test the one I love because of a rule born out of fear?"
Motormaster hesitated. That second said everything.
"You’re supposed to trust that I’m not trying to take anything from you," she finally said. "Only… make sure I don’t lose anyone else."
Breakdown shook his head, ending the conversation.
"I’m going where Bee is. I want to be there with him."
Motormaster closed her optics briefly.
She had no perfect reply.
***
Bumblebee took another deep breath.
Not because he needed air.
But because his spark would not stop racing.
He had the Autobots nearby. Optimus, firm and silent. Arcee alert. Wheeljack already analyzing the terrain. The Terrans clustered near Robby and Mo—Twitch hovering nervously, Jawbreaker trying to appear calm, Nightshade observing everything in focused silence. Even Megatron stood there, saying nothing… but present.
And still, he felt alone.
Not because he feared the trial.
But because he feared failing.
Not failing as a fighter.
Not failing as an Autobot.
Failing as someone worthy of Breakdown.
**
Motormaster arrived at the trial site shortly after Breakdown did.
She had made the decision the way she always did—quickly, firmly, without room for debate. As a leader. As an older sister. As the one who had to think of the whole, not the individual.
Her optics drifted briefly toward Breakdown. She saw him approach Bumblebee.
It hurt more than she would admit that he was not standing beside his siblings. That he had not chosen their ship. That he had built something so solid away from them.
"I’m not punishing you," she told herself silently.
But part of her knew the uncomfortable truth.
She was afraid Bumblebee might win…
And that the Stunticons would still be left behind.
**
Bumblebee received a quick embrace from Breakdown, who had just arrived.
"Sorry I’m late. I was talking to Motormaster."
"Breakdown, step aside. The trial is about to begin. Don’t distract him," Dragstrip called out.
Bumblebee stepped forward.
Behind him, the Autobots remained at a distance. The Terrans stayed close but respectful.
And then—
"Oooookay~," Dragstrip’s voice sliced through the air with cheerful sharpness.
He advanced, transforming halfway before stopping in front of Bumblebee with a crooked smile that promised nothing good.
"First trial," he announced, spreading his arms like he was presenting a show. "Officially inaugurated."
Motormaster watched from a distance, rigid. Dead End leaned against a rock, feigning indifference. Wildrider stood far too still, optics fixed on Bee as if evaluating something fascinating.
"Let’s make something clear from the start," Dragstrip said, circling Bumblebee. "This isn’t punishment. It’s an evaluation. We’re not looking for perfection."
He leaned slightly closer.
"We’re looking for compatibility under pressure."
Bumblebee held his gaze.
"What kind of pressure?"
Dragstrip’s smile widened.
"You’ll see."
He raised a servo and several drones activated, emerging from the ground like metallic insects. Not weapons. Sensors.
"First trial: Emotional resilience and decision-making. No brute strength. No direct combat."
Dead End spoke calmly:
"And you can’t stop."
"Or ask for help," Wildrider added. "Even if they’re all watching."
Dragstrip turned toward the Autobots and Terrans.
"Moral support is allowed. No intervention."
Then back to Bumblebee.
"The goal isn’t speed. It’s arriving intact. Without losing control. Without breaking. Without making impulsive decisions that could affect others."
Silence pressed in.
Bumblebee inhaled deeply.
"And if I fail?"
For a moment, Dragstrip didn’t answer.
Then Dead End spoke from his spot.
"Then we prove that loving Breakdown isn’t enough."
That hurt more than any blow.
Dragstrip raised a servo and pointed at him.
"But if you pass… we move into more serious territory."
He stepped aside and gestured toward the start of the circuit.
"Whenever you’re ready, Bumblebee. Impress me."
Bee took a step forward.
And just before moving, he glanced sideways toward where he knew Breakdown stood—even if he couldn’t see him.
The drones activated in unison.
The first trial had begun.