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Peter was beyond exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached, his mind was heavy with fatigue, and all he could think about was getting back to the Red Room and collapsing into bed. The rush of adrenaline from holding back the water had long since faded, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
As he arrived back in the hangar, Bee, who flew him back in his ship form, transformed with a mechanical whir and clank. The sleek yellow and black ship shifted into Bee's humanoid form, towering over Peter.
"Alright, Bee, I'm heading to bed. I'll see you later." Peter waved tiredly over his shoulder. "We'll meet with Optimus again once I'm up…"
Peter tiredly trudged away, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world was still on them. All he wanted was sleep—12 hours, maybe more, just to recharge. His mind was already drifting toward his bed, the idea of collapsing onto it like a beacon.
But as he stepped out of the ship, his tired eyes fell on two familiar figures standing in the hangar.
Natasha and Mikaela.
They stood a short distance from each other, doing their best to ignore one another, though the tension between them was palpable. "…"
Both of them had worried expressions on their faces, and the moment Peter stepped into view, they rushed forward. Their competitive rivalry was momentarily cast aside as their concern for Peter overtook everything else.
Before Peter could even react, he was pulled into a shared hug, Natasha wrapping herself around his right side, and Mikaela on his left. It was an odd, reluctant embrace, but neither of them let go, too worried about him to fight over it now.
"You look terrible," Natasha murmured, her voice soft with worry as she held onto his arm. "We saw the news…"
Mikaela nodded in agreement, her hands fussing over his jacket. "Alfred told us you were probably the one holding all that water back, but even he wasn't sure. We were so worried."
Peter gave a tired chuckle, appreciating their concern even as his body screamed for rest. "Yeah… that was me. It wasn't so bad at first, but after a few hours passed, it started to tire me out."
The two women exchanged a look—briefly sharing a moment of mutual shock and awe at Peter's power. Natasha was the first to speak, her voice filled with disbelief. "You held back all that water… by yourself?"
Peter nodded, his expression turning sheepish. "Yep, for the most part. After all, I couldn't just let it flood the towns."
Mikaela's eyes were wide as she took in what he said. "That's… incredible. I mean, that was—"
"Insane," Natasha finished, her tone tinged with awe. "How did you even manage that?"
"The Force," Peter smirked.
Before either of them could ask any more questions, their concern quickly turned to fussing over him. They both started talking at once, asking if he was alright, if he needed to go to the infirmary, if he was hungry, if he wanted something to drink. Their usual competitive nature was set aside for now, as both of them focused solely on making sure he was okay.
Peter couldn't help but be surprised at how well they were working together—at least for the moment. Normally, the rivalry between Natasha and Mikaela was obvious in every interaction they had with each other, but now they were both focused on him, putting aside their differences out of genuine concern.
He raised a hand, trying to calm them down as they continued to hover over him. "I'm alright, really," he said, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I just need to sleep for about… I don't know, a week?"
But just as the words left his mouth, his stomach betrayed him, growling loudly in protest. He winced slightly, and both Natasha and Mikaela exchanged amused glances.
"Maybe some food too," Peter added sheepishly. "If you two don't mind?"
Both women immediately agreed, their competitive sides momentarily flaring up as they nodded in unison. "Of course," Natasha said, already stepping in to help support him.
"But let's get you to bed first," Mikaela added, slipping her arm under his other shoulder, mirroring Natasha's actions.
And just like that, Peter found himself being half-carried, half-led by the two women, back toward his quarters on his ship.
Despite the exhaustion, a small smile tugged at his lips. He couldn't help but enjoy the attention, feeling both Natasha and Mikaela fuss over him like attentive girlfriends. They were both so focused on his well-being that they weren't even bickering, which was a rare and welcome change.
As they helped him back to his room, Peter's mind was already drifting, the promise of sleep looming closer.
"…" Bee watched from the hangar, his optics flickering in amusement at the sight of Peter being doted on by both women.
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Meanwhile, Tony couldn't shake the bad feeling gnawing at his stomach. He had tried reaching Jarvis multiple times, but the AI remained silent—a glaring red flag. Something was wrong, and Tony wasn't going to rest until he found out what.
He shot through the air like a red and gold missile, heading straight for Stark Industries. The morning sun had risen, casting long shadows over the city as Tony soared through the sky, his thoughts racing faster than his suit.
Soon enough, he arrived at Stark Industries in record time. Workers were just beginning to file into the building for the day, and their eyes widened in shock as they saw Tony Stark in full armor—descending from the sky. "?!"
Some had seen the news last night, but even those who hadn't were left gaping at the sight of their boss landing dramatically at the entrance.
"Mr. Stark?" one security guard asked, his hand instinctively moving toward his earpiece before realizing it was indeed Tony.
Tony barely glanced at him, his faceplate flipping up just long enough to offer a quick, "Morning. Make way."
He rushed past them, his heart pounding as the uneasy feeling in his gut grew stronger. As he sprinted through the halls, the familiar environment of his company seemed almost foreign in its eerie quiet. He passed by employees who stopped in their tracks, wide-eyed at the sight of their boss rushing through in his red and gold armor. Some even whispered to each other, but Tony was too focused to care.
He tried re-establishing contact with Jarvis again, using his suit's built-in systems to ping the AI. 'Come on…'
Nothing. Jarvis still wasn't responding.
Finally, Tony burst into his workshop. The moment he stepped inside, he knew something was wrong. His security systems had been tampered with, and the most glaring sign of intrusion—his computer was both unlocked and in disarray. The screen was still glowing, but it was clear someone had been there.
Tony's heart sank as he rushed toward the computer, scanning through the files. His worst fears were confirmed as he sifted through the digital trail: files on Peter, the AllSpark, the Red Room, and various other sensitive information had been accessed. Not just accessed, but downloaded.
He checked the security cameras next, but found the footage deleted. Whoever had broken in had also covered their tracks.
Tony's hands flew over the keyboard as he accessed Jarvis manually through the computer. The relief was instant when he saw that Jarvis had only been powered off and not erased. Whoever had done this wasn't sophisticated enough to completely wipe him out.
"Jarvis, you there?" Tony asked, his voice tight with tension as he waited for the AI to boot up.
A few moments later, Jarvis's familiar voice chimed in, though there was a hint of apology in his tone. "Good morning, sir. I must apologize for the interruption—I was temporarily disabled during the recent breach."
Tony let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Don't worry about it. Just tell me what happened."
Jarvis quickly complied. "I managed to hide a portion of the security footage before I was powered off. It appears the perpetrators attempted to delete all records of their intrusion, but I retained this video for review."
A window popped up on the screen, showing the hidden footage Jarvis had saved. Tony's eyes narrowed as he watched, his breath catching when the video revealed Stane entering his workshop.
Tony's jaw clenched. "Stane…"
In the footage, Stane walked confidently into the room, the little Decepticon at his side. The tiny transformer quickly latched onto Tony's computer, its optics glowing as it hacked into the system, downloading files at an alarming rate. Meanwhile, Stane wandered toward something else in the workshop.
Tony's eyes widened when he saw what it was.
Stane approached Tony's old Iron Man suit—the one he had built without an arc reactor, powered by a battery. The footage showed Stane pausing in front of it for a moment, almost in awe, before the armor automatically opened up for him.
"No…" Tony muttered, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Stane step into the armor. The suit closed around him, the heavy metal plates locking into place.
The footage continued, showing Stane now fully suited up in Tony's old armor. His movements were awkward at first, but it didn't take long for him to gain control. He glanced down at his armored hands, flexing his fingers as if testing the suit's power. Then, without hesitation, Stane turned back toward the Decepticon, and the two of them made their escape.
Tony spun around, his eyes immediately darting to the corner of the room where his old suit had once stood.
It was empty.
Stane had stolen his armor.
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Elsewhere, Megatron stood in the command center of the Decepticons' new base, his optics glowing with cold fury as he reviewed the data that had just been transmitted from Stane and the small Decepticon operative.
The room was dimly lit, with only the glow of various control panels and holographic displays illuminating the massive metal walls. The base itself, hidden deep in a desolate location, was far more secure than the one they had just abandoned.
The data file blinked on the screen in front of him, and as Megatron sifted through the information, his fury only grew.
Peter Quill. An Earthling who had spent years in space after a kidnapping and had only recently returned to Earth. His current base of operations: the Red Room. But what infuriated Megatron the most wasn't Peter's history or his connections—it was the fact that the AllSpark was now in Peter's possession.
Worse still, the information that Stane had uncovered stated that Peter could wield the AllSpark's power as if he were a Cybertronian.
"How is this possible?" Megatron growled, his voice filled with rage. His metal fists clenched, and the metal floor beneath him trembled as his temper flared.
A human. An insignificant creature from a backward planet was using the AllSpark, the very source of Cybertronian life. It was an affront that Megatron could scarcely comprehend.
The AllSpark was sacred to the Cybertronian race—it held their essence, their history, and their future. And now, it was being wielded by a fleshling. A heathen.
Beside him, Starscream stepped forward, his wings twitching in irritation. "It seems, Lord Megatron, that the human has defiled the AllSpark with his touch. We must act swiftly to retrieve it before it's corrupted beyond repair."
Megatron's optics flared, his rage barely contained. "Corrupted... tainted by human hands," he muttered, almost to himself. He couldn't fathom how an organic being could even begin to access the AllSpark's power. It was meant for Cybertronians alone, and yet, Peter had done the impossible.
"This is unacceptable," Megatron snarled, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "We will not allow the AllSpark to remain in the hands of a human any longer."
He turned to Starscream and his lieutenants, his imposing form towering over them as he issued his orders. "Prepare the Decepticons for an all-out assault on this Red Room. We will strike with the full force of our army and take back the AllSpark. I will not allow it to be tainted any further by that heathen."
Starscream's optics gleamed with anticipation as he nodded, eager to see the destruction that would follow. "As you command, Lord Megatron."
As Starscream and the other Decepticons moved to carry out their orders, Megatron stood alone for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts of the AllSpark and the human who had dared to claim it. Peter Quill was no longer just a nuisance or an obstacle. He was a threat—a threat to the very essence of Cybertron.
Megatron's optics burned with renewed determination. This was no longer about mere conquest or domination. This was about reclaiming what was rightfully theirs.
"The AllSpark belongs to Cybertron," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "And if I must, I will tear every human on this planet apart to retrieve it."
The countdown to war had begun, and Megatron would stop at nothing to take back what was his.
A/N: 2200 words :)
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