A space crash..?

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Intro:

Heatwave hadn’t expected his morning to begin like this — alone, deep in the forest, following the scar the falling ship had carved into the island. But the moment he’d seen that streak of blue fire cutting across the night sky, brighter than any meteor, he’d known something was wrong. He’d watched it descend, listened to the distant thunder of impact, and still... he’d waited. Dawn felt safer. Dawn felt rational. Dawn felt like the kind of choice a team leader should make.

Now, standing at the edge of the crash site, he wasn’t so sure.

The forest around him was still soaked in early‐morning quiet. Dew clung to his treads in silver beads, and the air smelled of wet earth and scorched metal. Griffin Crest’s fencing loomed behind him — a place he was relieved to leave in his past — but the wreck ahead demanded his attention. The ship had plowed through the trees like a blade, leaving splintered trunks and a gouged trench of torn soil. Its hull, once sleek, was now a twisted carcass half‐buried in the ground.

Heatwave transformed and stepped forward, each footfall sinking slightly into the churned mud. He scanned the perimeter, optics narrowing. No movement. No energy signatures. No sign of Kade or the others — because he hadn’t told them. If this was a Decepticon trap, he’d rather spring it alone than drag his team into danger.

The ship’s entrance hung crookedly, one door jammed halfway open, the other torn clean off. As he crossed the threshold, a cold ripple of dread crawled up his frame. Something about the silence felt wrong — not the emptiness of an abandoned vessel, but the hush of a place that had seen violence.

“Hello?” Heatwave called, voice echoing through the corridor. “Is any bot there?”

Only the hollow groan of stressed metal answered him.

He moved deeper. The interior was a maze of collapsed beams and sparking conduits. Wires dangled like severed nerves, some still twitching with faint electrical pulses. Panels had been ripped from the walls, not by the crash — he could tell — but by something inside the ship fighting to get out... or fighting to keep something in.

The floor plating was warped, buckled upward as though something massive had struck from below. A trail of scorched footprints — uneven, staggering — led down the main hallway before disappearing into a collapsed section of ceiling.

Heatwave’s spark thudded harder. This wasn’t just a crash. This was a struggle. And whoever had been aboard... they hadn’t gone quietly.