Transformers.2007 -

“You’ve got forty-eight hours and one hell of an air support,” Lennox replied. He looked at Sam. “You’re not going.”

Above them, the jets engaged. The war was over. But as Lennox would later write in his after-action report, ‘The war is over. But the watch has just begun. Because out there, in the dark between worlds, a giant robot is carrying our future in his hands. And he is not alone.’

“He’ll come back,” she whispered.

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 frowned. “A tomb?”

“A strategic option,” Ironhide grumbled, his cannons twitching. “Or I could shoot it. See what happens.”

But Optimus lowered his head, his optics meeting Sam’s. “No, Samuel. This is where our paths diverge. You gave the Cube to me. You gave me your trust. Now, give me your goodbye. Bumblebee would never forgive me if I led you into the darkness between worlds.” transformers.2007

The kid didn't look like much.

“Time is up,” Ironhide snarled, cannons deploying. “You’ve got forty-eight hours and one hell of

“He would do it again,” Jazz added, his lean, silver frame flickering with residual energy damage. “It is the way of our spark.”

“He took the shot for me,” Sam whispered. “Mikaela and I would have been… slag.” The war was over