Reborn as a Cybertronian

### Chapter 1: Awakening on Cybertron

The blaring sirens echoed in Michael Smith's ears as he fought to maintain his grip on reality. The sights of his mundane apartment faded into a blur, as the cold, sterile scent of hospital antiseptic filled the air. Panic rose within him as he struggled against the encroaching darkness, a sense of loss spiraling around him like a dense fog. Just as the world slipped away, his last thoughts flickered to his unfulfilled dreams of adventure and creativity.

Then, silence.

**Rebirth.**

Michael awoke to find himself on a surface that vibrated beneath him. Beyond the initial disorientation was an overwhelming sense of alienness that engulfed all of his senses. Confusion clouded his mind as he blinked his eyes open, revealing a metallic expanse stretched out before him. He felt the ground—a hard, metallic surface teeming with colors and shadows, the sounds of machinery humming all around. The air carried a mix of electric charge and faint scents he couldn't quite place.

As he attempted to push himself up, an unusual heaviness washed over him—a lingering sensation that something was off but also exhilarating. He glanced down—his hands were vast, polished plates of metal, interlocking segments forming an alien arm.

"What the…?" he muttered, but the voice that echoed through the air was a deep, resonant tone that sent vibrations through his chest. Startled, he reached up, feeling the contours of a new face—a dome-like head with illuminated optics gazing back at him from an unfamiliar shape.

Thus began his introduction to a world he had only seen through cartoon screens and toy shelves: Cybertron, the legendary home of the Transformers.

Michael—I mean, who was he? His memories flickered, not entirely lost but reshaped in this rebirth. He took a deep metallic breath, grounding himself in this new existence. "I am Michael Smith," he declared, his voice booming as it reverberated throughout his body, a newfound strength rising within him.

As the jumbled remnants of his real-world life settled, Michael grappled with the reality of being a Cybertronian. The wind—if it could be called that here—seemed to rush past him in soft whispers, as light refracted through the vibrant hues of the planet's surface. He realized he was not just any ordinary Cybertronian; his mind buzzed with creative ideas, innate skills, and a spark of ingenuity that felt different from others.

Focusing his thoughts, Michael reached deep within his newfound form, awakening a series of abilities. He could sense energy currents flowing around him, resonating with the rhythms of Cybertron itself. His mind conjured visions of machines and tools; creation came naturally, invoking memories from his past life. He could build, design, and innovate—transform ideas into reality with a flick of his wrist.

Gifted with a unique form of Energon manipulation, he experimented with it as he moved. Streams of energy surged through his circuits as he effortlessly shaped a small device from the ground—an advanced communication tool powered by a design that felt instinctual. The device shimmered to life, confirming what he knew: he was more than just a reborn individual; he was a visionary.

With newfound confidence, he gathered his surroundings, absorbing the sights and sounds. Structures towering above him called for attention—gleaming towers, complex machinery, the very essence of Cybertronian ingenuity.

"Incredible," Michael breathed, his optics glinting with awe. "I can do this. I can create!"

Fueled by an insatiable desire to learn more, he began exploring his capabilities in depth. Thoughts flooded through his mind like a rushing river—a blend of concepts from his old life intertwined with the technological marvels of this new one. With every new invention, he could feel himself embracing this transformation, ready to leave the weight of his past behind and forge a fresh legacy on Cybertron.

Yet amidst his exhilaration loomed a darker thought. He recognized something dangerous in the creative fire burning within him—the potential to lead, to inspire, but also to provoke. As he peered into the distance, catching the gleam of advanced warriors gathering, Michael felt a calling—not just to exist as a Cybertronian but to become something more: a leader who could rally others in crucial times ahead.

With determination, he stood tall. Michael Smith was no longer just a name; he was a force of creation, armed with knowledge, imagination, and the ambition to reshape a world on the brink of chaos. From this moment on, he would embrace his new reality and launch himself into the unknown.

Cybertron awaited, and he was ready.