Qatar, 4:00 a.m. Outskirts
William and the last of his squad kept speeding down the endless stretch of sand. The military vehicle shook violently under the weight of the shifting dunes, their engines roaring tirelessly as if fighting against the oppressive silence that hung over them. The rest of the soldiers had succumbed to exhaustion, slipping into restless sleep with their heads leaning against the dust-covered windows. Only William and Guerra struggled to stay awake, his weary eyes gazing toward the distant horizon, where the darkness of night met the faint outline of the desert.
Above them, the sky was a deep shade of blue, speckled with distant stars — beautiful but unreachable. In that moment, the rumble of engines echoing through the night felt oddly comforting — a familiar rhythm, a sign of life in an otherwise desolate expanse. It was far better than the haunting silence, where death and despair lurked just beyond the edge of hearing.
They were heading toward the nearest village, hoping to find some trace of life — a modest house, a light flickering through a window, or a local kind enough to lend them a phone to contact the government. They had survived the nightmare, but the journey was far from over.
And yet… no one noticed.
No one saw the aircraft quietly gliding above them, as silent as a ghost. Its running lights were completely off, leaving only a faint silhouette reflecting under the pale moonlight. It trailed them, patient and unwavering, never rushing, never leaving.
Inside the cockpit, a distorted, crackling voice echoed — something no human radio could ever produce. It was an electronic voice — cold, yet carrying a sense of sorrow, as if spoken from another world. It broke the silence of the night sky:
[Forgive my delay, fallen soldiers. I failed to protect you… But to atone, I will guard those who survived — with my very life.]
There was a strange sincerity in those words. This was no lifeless machine — it was the voice of a warrior who had once failed and was now desperate to make things right. It spoke not to threaten but to promise. Not to command but to protect.
The aircraft tilted its wings slightly, catching the distant starlight as it shimmered faintly across its metal frame. The low hum of its engines merged with the desert winds — a quiet symphony of resolve and loyalty.
Below, the soldiers kept moving forward, unaware they were being watched — not by an ordinary savior, but by a mechanical soul with the heart of a true warrior. And that night, on the endless stretch of sand beneath a star-filled sky, history was quietly being written… moment by moment.
The air inside the vehicle was stiflingly heavy. The A/C was running, but sweat still clung to Guerra's forehead as he gripped the wheel. His knuckles were white, his eyes squinting hard at the road ahead.
- Will… am I going crazy, or did I just hear a helicopter? — His voice was rough, cutting through the suffocating silence.
William froze. A cold shiver crept down his spine, as if his body was trying to warn him. He held his breath, frowning, straining his ears.
At first, it was only the steady rumble of the truck's engine.
Then…
The unmistakable thump of rotor blades.
William shot upright, blood turning cold.
— Everyone, up! Now!
Epps stirred first, groaning in protest.
— Five more minutes, man…
— Get up, goddammit! — William barked, his voice tense enough to snap anyone awake. — Did you call for evac earlier?!
Epps sat up abruptly, scowling.
— The hell you talking about, Will? I didn't even have a damn cigarette, let alone a phone!
William went still. A cold lump formed in his throat.
— Then whose chopper is that?
The air froze.
The irritation on Epps' face vanished instantly, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. He held his breath, tilting his head to listen.
The rotor blades thundered.
Louder.
Closer.
The rest of the soldiers were waking now, their grogginess giving way to confusion.
— Did anyone get a call about reinforcements? — William asked, his voice dropping into cautious seriousness.
— No. — Guerra shook his head, eyes still locked on the road ahead.
A beat. He inhaled deeply, but his chest felt tight.
— Then why—
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The rotor blades roared furiously, so close the truck shook violently. Dust whipped up into a swirling storm, slamming against the windshield. The vehicle rocked under the force.
William's breath hitched. He and the others craned their necks toward the windows, squinting through the haze.
And then they saw it.
An MH-53 helicopter.
It hovered just above the convoy, its sleek gray surface gleaming under the moonlight.
Designation 4500X.
William's heart skipped a beat.
— No way… — He whispered, eyes wide.
— That's the same chopper from yesterday. — Donnelly's voice cracked.
No one said anything else. They didn't need to.
Fig swallowed hard. His voice trembled despite his attempt to sound calm:
— Shit… it's here to finish us off.
A chill ran down everyone's spine. They had faced death countless times before, but this…
Something was wrong.
— It really came back… — Sácz whispered, his voice so soft it was nearly drowned out by the wind.
William swallowed, eyes fixed on the helicopter circling above. A cold white beam from its searchlight swept across the desert floor.
It wasn't searching for something.
It was searching for someone.
The beam passed over the convoy.
And this time… it stopped.
William's heart sank.
The helicopter surged forward, dropping lower. Its wheels skimmed the sand, sending tremors through the ground.
— Hit the gas! — William slapped Guerra's shoulder. — It sees us! I'll draw it away with the others!
— I'm going as fast as I can! — Guerra growled, his hands trembling on the wheel.
The engine roared.
Dust exploded behind them.
But William knew.
They couldn't outrun it for long.
— What do we have left?! — Lennox shouted.
— Ten mags! Not enough to bring it down! — Epps yelled back.
— Grenade launcher?!
— Used it all yesterday!
William grit his teeth, biting down a curse. A cold, sharp clarity flashed in his eyes.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The gunfire was deafening.
The ground behind them erupted into pillars of flame. Shards of rock pelted the truck, shattering the windshield. A large chunk speared through the glass on Guerra's side, embedding itself inches from his seat.
— It's trying to flip us! — Guerra shouted, voice hoarse with panic.
— Hold the wheel steady! — Lennox half-hung out the window, raising his M4.
— What the hell are you doing?! — Epps yelled.
— What else can I do?!
His chest heaved with adrenaline. No plan. No logic.
How do you bring down a metal beast the size of a small building with an M4?
You don't.
But you try anyway. Not because you think you'll win — but because you have to do something.
— Shit… alright… — William whispered, voice trembling. He squinted, lining the iron sights with the cockpit of the MH-53.
Then suddenly —
BOOM!!!
A thunderous explosion tore through the sky, shaking the convoy violently. Guerra lost control of the wheel, the vehicle swerving and spinning before coming to a sudden stop. Soldiers slammed hard against the metal interior of the military truck. William Lennox blinked through the dizziness, struggling to keep himself from being flung out.
A blinding flash lit up the desert night, illuminating everything for a brief moment.
- What the hell was that?! — Epps shouted, panic in his voice.
William turned just in time to see the helicopter — or rather, the thing impersonating it — blown straight out of the sky.
A figure emerged from above.
Sleek. Powerful. Its silver metal armor gleamed under the moonlight, with broad jet wings unfurled. It circled gracefully before diving down like a meteor.
- What… what is that? — Fig stammered, voice trembling.
The F-15 Eagle shifted in midair.
The sound of metal twisting and locking into place echoed with a mechanical fury, each plate clashing together with a deafening clamor that reverberated across the battlefield. It landed hard, kicking up clouds of dust in a swirling haze.
He stood there, towering amidst the flames and smoke, his silver armor tarnished with the scars of battle, gleaming with the cold sheen of metal forged in a hundred wars. His wings, once the remains of the F-15 Eagle, flared out behind him like a regal cloak. Scorch marks etched deep into the metal — the scars of survival, proof of a warrior who never falls.
Blackout crashed down to the earth.
Boom!
The ground quaked. Dust exploded in towering columns. The screech of grinding metal filled the air — the sound of a mechanical nightmare. Giant rotor blades spun, then folded back, morphing into a deadly weapon mounted on his right arm. He rolled, pushed himself up with an eerie calm. His crimson eyes burned through the haze, cold and emotionless — like an executioner summoned from hell.
No panic.
No rage.
Only calm.
A killer.
He uttered a single word, in an alien tongue. Yet William's team could hear it clearly:
- [Autobot…]
What did he just say?
Did he call that thing an Autobot?
The Autobot soared high into the sky before halting in midair, like a fighter jet diving down at breakneck speed. The roar of his thrusters echoed like thunder, moments before he delivered a powerful kick to Blackout — a blow strong enough to crush armored vehicles.
Boom!
The ground cracked open. Shockwaves rippled outward in violent rings.
Blackout staggered back several meters. Although he managed to block the attack with his massive arm, the sheer force left the internal joints nearly shattered.
- [Blackout!] — The warrior's voice roared, crackling with electromagnetic distortion that echoed across the desert like thunder. — [I will crush you like you did my squad!]
Blackout didn't answer. He only tilted his head, cold eyes analyzing his opponent — slowly, like an executioner choosing where to strike.
The warrior didn't wait.
He charged with blinding speed. Dust exploded with every step, leaving deep craters in the sand.
He leapt, delivering a devastating dropkick straight into Blackout.
Boom!
Blackout was sent flying dozens of meters.
William Lennox stood frozen. His hands trembled as he instinctively pulled a handheld camera from his jacket pocket, sweat slicking his palms. He attached the lens, pressing it to his eye, gripping it tightly.
- Will… — Epps whispered, voice cracking. — Do you have any idea what the hell is happening?
- No… — William shook his head, voice dry.
He kept filming. Capturing every movement — every punch, every explosion, every spark of metal clashing in the air.
Before them was a battle beyond anything they had ever imagined.
Blackout stood up once again. His gaze remained unchanged — cold as a blade, unwavering.
A burning red circle glowed on his metallic face, cold and hollow, like a sword fresh from the forge, ready to cut through anything in its path.
They clashed again, two storms of steel colliding in a haze of dust. Every punch landed with earth-shattering force, tearing through metal plating, sending shards flying like fragments of a crumbling world.
Each impact thundered through the battlefield, mixing with the roaring overload of engines and the ear-piercing shriek of cracking joints. Sparks burst like showers of fire, painting a scene both magnificent and brutal.
A glowing blue liquid, sprayed from both combatants, splattering across scorched sand and rising in faint smoke. The air reeked of burning metal and oil, the heat so intense that even soldiers hundreds of meters away could feel it.
But Blackout wasn't a mindless brute. He fought with lethal precision. Every hit targeted joints and weak points — subtle but deliberate, slowly wearing the warrior down.
Then a cannon unfolded from his chest, charging in a flash of light.
Boom!
The Autobot warrior was blasted backward, but he sprang up immediately. Parts of his armor shattered, exposing sparking wires. He panted, chest heaving — but his blue eyes still burned with defiance.
Not because he thought he would win.
But because he was ready to die to stop Blackout.
To atone for those he couldn't save.
- [Come on!!!] — He roared.
His right arm shifted into a massive Gatling gun, unleashing a barrage of fire. Golden streaks ripped through the night.
Blackout stayed calm. He moved forward slowly, weaving through the onslaught. His arm raised — the helicopter blades spun, slicing through incoming rounds. An EMP pulse erupted.
Boom!
The Autobot was hurled across the sand, crashing down with a screech of metal grinding against metal. Sparks flared from a crack in his chest.
The soldiers stood in stunned silence. They had faced death before — but this… this was something else.
- How… — Guerra stammered. — How does something like that even exist?
William didn't answer.
He kept filming.
Only one thought echoed in his mind:
"This… this doesn't belong to our world."
And then, the warrior stood again. Staggering. Shattered. But standing.
A true soldier.
- [You think I'll fall that easily?!] — He bellowed, his right arm shifting into a blade.
Blackout no longer stood still.
He moved forward, eyes cold as ice.
—-
After a moment, Blackout gradually faltered, his burning red eyes flickering in the haze of smoke and dust. The massive blade in his hand still dripped with energy from previous cuts. But this time… he no longer seemed invincible.
A deafening roar echoed from the sky.
The Autobot warrior, who had staggered to his feet after countless falls, now returned in his finest combat form.
An F-15 Eagle fighter jet screamed through the air, its wings tilting at a powerful angle.
Blackout lifted his head. He raised his arm, and the shoulder cannon fired a barrage of guided missiles.
He flipped 180 degrees in mid-air, dodging the missiles by mere seconds. One exploded behind him, but it didn't slow him down.
- [Don't celebrate just yet!]
The wings spread wide.
Two Hellfire missiles launched.
Two blazing streaks tore through the sky, heading straight for Blackout.
BOOM!
A devastating explosion. Sand and metal burst into the air.
Blackout staggered, his chest armor shattered, exposing the vulnerable joints beneath. He stumbled back a few steps, roaring in pain.
But the iron warrior didn't stop.
He shifted mid-air, mechanical parts grinding and clanking like a symphony of steel. Within seconds, he landed on the ground, his right arm instantly transforming into a sharp energy blade.
- [There's more where that came from!]
He charged straight at Blackout, the explosive speed cracking the earth beneath his feet. The blade slashed sideways, cutting clean through Blackout's left arm.
Blackout howled.
The severed left arm crashed to the ground, sparking violently.
But he wasn't done.
He spun, momentum still carrying him forward, and raised his other arm — this time, a blazing plasma cannon.
BOOM!
At point-blank range, the blast tore through Blackout's shoulder, bringing him to his knees. His massive metal frame trembled violently, joints creaking under the strain.
- [How's that, you bastard?!] — He roared, chest heaving with fury.
Blackout pressed one hand against the ground, sparks flickering from his torn armor. He lifted his head, and his burning red eyes were no longer hollow… but filled with irritation.
- [Big mouth…]
But the metal warrior didn't let him get back up. He took a few steps back, a Gatling gun emerging from his shoulder. The barrels spun with a shrill metallic whine.
- [I'm not stopping… until you're down.]
He kept transforming, soaring into the sky.
And then, the sky lit up.
A storm of bullets rained down, fierce as the wrath of fallen warriors.
At that moment, Blackout threw his head back, metal groaning loudly across the battlefield. His one remaining arm raised to the smoke-filled sky, his cannon glowing with overloaded energy.
BOOM!
A colossal projectile shot forward, exploding in an instant. The shockwave ripped through everything in its path, blasting sand and tearing through the air. The force was strong enough to slam the Autobot warrior back into his true form, armor plates shifting chaotically with screeching metal.
He staggered, struggling to stand in the swirling smoke, his shoulder armor still trembling from the fading shockwave. But before he could lift his head, another flash of light blazed.
Another projectile.
It shot forward at terrifying speed, leaving a blazing trail that split the sky. He barely had time to widen his glowing blue eyes — and then…
BOOM!
A violent impact echoed across the battlefield, shaking the ground to its core. The earth cracked as if an earthquake had just erupted, chunks of rock hurled into the air. Though he had narrowly avoided a direct hit, the blast was strong enough to send him staggering, forcing him back a few steps before regaining his balance.
The mysterious warrior backed up, swatting away fierce attacks, but it was clear he was weakening.
The silver armor on his shoulder had cracked, sparks flying from damaged joints.
William recorded while shouting into the comms:
— What do we do?!
— Do what?! — Epps panted. — Did you see the size of that thing?!
— I think I can.
Guerra didn't wait. He jumped out of the vehicle, hauling an M82 Barrett rifle.
William started to call him back but stopped, his eyes narrowing as he realized his teammate's intention. He could only watch the massive metal beast wreak havoc ahead.
Blackout continued his rampage, each swing tearing through the thick sand, hurling the mysterious warrior to the ground.
BOOM!
He fell heavily, one hand bracing against the earth, breathing hard. His bright blue eyes flickered weakly, staring at Blackout.
He tried to stand… but collapsed again.
Blackout approached slowly, each heavy step pounding the ground like a hammer.
On a rocky ledge in the distance, Guerra lay prone on the sand, the hefty Barrett rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder.
He took a deep breath, eye pressed to the scope. The red crosshair blinked steadily, locked onto Blackout's eye.
— Sorry… — Guerra muttered. — But you're too big to miss.
BANG!
The deafening shot ripped through the air. The massive bullet streaked forward like a shooting star, drilling straight into Blackout's right eye socket.
BOOM!
Blackout roared in agony, stumbling back a few steps. Sparks burst violently from his destroyed eye, falling like molten steel.
William's jaw dropped. He glanced at Guerra.
— It hit!
Blackout could barely stand. The pain was overwhelming. One hand clutched his sparking eye socket.
— Now! — William shouted. — This is your chance Autobot!
The iron warrior lifted his head. His blue eyes blazed again with fierce determination. He stood, metal parts shifting once more.
William squinted. He saw the armor sliding back into place, the silver wings spreading wide.
And then… a familiar sound echoed.
The roar of engines tearing through the sky. The warrior shifted into an F-15 Eagle, engines screaming as he accelerated.
He streaked toward Blackout at breathtaking speed, leaving a blazing trail through the air. The velocity surged with each second, each gust like rolling thunder.
— Oh my God… — Epps stammered.
Blackout, still reeling from his wounds, knew it was too late to dodge.
BOOM!
The impact triggered a massive explosion. The shockwave blasted sand outward in a massive circle over 50 meters wide. Metal groaned and shattered, fragments flying through the air like a storm of shrapnel.
The warrior dragged Blackout along, shrinking, then disappearing from the soldiers' view.
No one spoke.
William stood there, breathing heavily, sweat streaming down his face.
Epps blinked, stunned.
— … What the hell was that? — He gasped.
— I… I don't know. — William shook his head, his eyes still locked on the sky. — But I think… he's on our side.
At that moment, dawn slowly broke, painting the sky with its first rays of light, signaling a new beginning after the turbulent times the soldiers had just endured.
End of Chapter 5.