voice echoing across a starlit canyon, deep and resolute Before time began, there was... the Cube.
The words hang in the air like a transmission from another world. But you're not on Cybertron. You're not even in a movie theater.
You're in your driveway. It's three in the afternoon. And there's a car waiting for you that absolutely, categorically, should not exist.
The yellow 1977 Camaro sits in the driveway like it's always been there. Except your driveway was empty this morning. You've never seen this car before in your life. It's polished. Gleaming. Almost too clean for a car that old.
The driver's side door is open.
Not ajar. Open. Like someone — or something — is inviting you in.
Your phone buzzes. A text from your best friend: "dude. why is there a camaro in your driveway. did you steal a car???"
The engine turns over on its own. A low, warm rumble. Not aggressive. Almost... expectant.
And then the radio crackles to life.
radio static, then a smooth DJ voice You're listening to... the sounds of... click Hey there, hot shot. click