AMMAN, JORDAN | DECEMBER 23RD, 1545 HOURS
The plane touched down with a gentle thud on Queen Alia International Airport's runway. The desert sun was beating down through the cabin windows with an intensity William hasn't felt since his time in Georgia. As he steps off the aircraft, the dry heat wraps around him like a blanket. Thankfully, his enhanced thermal vision immediately adjusted to filter out the glare, letting him take in every detail of the terminal without squinting.
He moved through customs with the ease of a rich foreigner. When the border agent asked for the purpose of his visit, William offers a calm smile and the same cover story he'd used back at Fort Benning.
"Family visit. We have a tradition of coming to Jordan around this time of year—my great-grandfather was from the area near Petra."
The agent nods, stamping his passport and waving him through. William can tell the man is busy, processing dozens of holiday travelers, and has no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary.
William stepped out of the taxi into the bustling streets of Amman, the sounds of honking cars, street vendors calling out their wares, and conversations in Arabic and English filling the air. He connected to the global network, his mind already working on two separate tasks at once.
First order of business is transportation. He accesses the city's vehicle registration database, scanning for cars that won't draw attention but are sturdy enough to handle desert terrain. Within seconds, he's identified a used Toyota Land Cruiser registered to a rental company that's been cutting corners on their paperwork. With a few quick keystrokes, he transfers funds from a series of untraceable offshore accounts he'd created—money is just numbers to his enhanced processor, and bypassing bank security is as simple as breathing.
He walks to the rental lot, where the owner—a portly man named Karim—looks up as William approaches. "Looking for a car, sir?" The man asked with expectation in his eyes.
"Land Cruiser, 2003 model. I have a reservation under the name 'Albright'." William answered calmly.
Karim eyes lit up and checked his computer, his eyes widening slightly as he sees the payment already processed and confirmed. "Of course, sir. Right this way. That's a good choice for the desert—she'll handle anything you throw at her. Here's the paperwork, you'll just need to sign..."
William took the keys, inspecting the vehicle with his enhanced senses. The engine is in near perfect condition, the tires are new, and there's even a full tank of gas. 'Less trouble.'
As he pulled out of the lot, he switched focus to the second task which is finding scientists. There's Dr. Joshua Joyce for example. In the original timeline, he wouldn't become prominent until years later when he started working with transformium and KSI Industries.
William accessed the a secure communication channel he'd set up days ago, targeting a specific IP address linked to a small apartment in Washington D.C. After three encrypted pings, a video feed activates—showing a bald, bespectacled man in his late thirties staring at multiple monitors covered in complex equations and 3D models.
"Who is this?" the man asks sharply, his hand moving toward a panic button. "How did you get this frequency?"
"Dr. Joyce—my name is Lennox. William Lennox. I'm what you'd call a… strategic consultant. I have some interest in the 'adaptive material' formulas you keep hidden in your personal server."
The scientist freezes, his face pale. "That's classified—"
"Classified as a dead end by the DOD, yes. But you and I both know it would take years before realistic application can be made. I can help you develop it—turn your theoretical designs into functional technology. Exoskeletons, armor plating, weapons systems that can actually stand a chance against… certain threats."
"What kind of threats?" Joyce asks cautiously, though William can see the curiosity burning in his eyes.
"Let's just say Earth won't be safe for much longer. You've probably seen the pattern. Why do you think the moon landing was never repeated? Those strange energy signatures, and equipment failures that make no sense. I know what causes them. With your expertise and my resources, we can build a defense against these threats. And I'll pay you half a million dollars up front as a signing bonus."
William pulled up a 3D model of an exoskeleton—similar to the designs from what he remembered of the movie Edge of Tomorrow, optimized with better material components and integrated power systems. "I'm prepared to fund your research through a research company I'll establish—'Frontier Dynamics'. You'll be the lead researcher, with full autonomy. No DOD oversight, no red tape. All I ask is that you deliver results, and keep my involvement completely confidential."
Joyce leans back in his chair, running a hand over his bald head. "This is insane. I don't even know who you are."
"Just know that right now, I'm the only one who can give you what you need to see your work through. Think it over—you'll find a contract in your encrypted folder by midnight. Sign it, and we get to work. You're number one on my list, don't disappoint me."
William sends the message and closes the connection, knowing Joyce will receive it within seconds. He calculates the odds of the scientist agreeing—87.3% likely, based on his research into Joyce's personality, financial situation, and ambition. He's too smart to ignore this, and too desperate for funding to walk away.
By the time he reached the outskirts of Petra, the sun is beginning to set, painting the desert sky in shades of orange and red. He pulled off the main road onto a dirt track, following coordinates his processor has etched into his memory. Twenty kilometers later, he stopped the Land Cruiser behind a sandstone outcrop, cutting the engine and stepping out into the quiet of the desert.
The air is still and cool now that the sun has gone down.
"The Tomb of the Primes," he whispers, looking out at the vast expanse of desert stretching before him.
He opened his eyes, and the black circles on his fingertips and palm begin to glow with a soft blue light. Electricity arcs between them, crackling in the still air. "Let's get to work."
William starts walking toward the hidden entrance, his enhanced body moving effortlessly over the rough terrain. With each step, he calculates his route, maps out the tomb's structure based on his memories from the films, and plans for every possible scenario—including the remote chance that the Autobots or Decepticons have somehow found the tomb before him.
As he reached the painted wall that hides the entrance, he places his palm against the rock. A pulse of electricity flows from his hand into the stone, and he can feel the hollow interior from the vibration.
'Time to work,' he pulled out the sledge hammer he picked out on the way and began to chip the wall with inhuman strength and speed. It took him less than ten minutes to break through the not so thick rock layer of the wall and make a hole that he could fit in.
William threw the hammer and stepped inside, there lay the entwined bodies of the primes who sacrificed themselves to hide the matrix of leadership. In the darkness, his enhanced vision activated—turning the blackness into a clear, detailed picture of what lay ahead.
The matrix laid there plainly on the floor like some lifeless decoration. "I don't know if I'm worthy," he muttered, his hand moving to grab the Matrix of Leadership on the floor made from Prime material. "But I'm going to take what I need regardless."
William sighed while watching the matrix crumble into dust. The matrix itself chooses the bearer and it seems he is not yet cut out to wield such a powerful tool.
'I guess I'll settle for the bodies.' there are six primes up for grabs right where he stood and William wasn't going to waste his chance on obtaining this early Christmas gift from the primes.
He crouched down and the electricity inside of him whirred to life. Interacting with the bodies, he willed to take everything and a new form of energy hit him like a tidal wave. It was raw, primal, and infinitely powerful. It floods through his body, rewriting his cells, integrating Prime-level code into his DNA. The black circles on his hands spread across his skin, transforming into intricate patterns of metal and light. His eyes glow bright blue, and his voice deepens with an otherworldly resonance.
Pain sears through every nerve ending as his form shifts and changes—metallic nanites emerged from his skin, his bones his muscles, while his mind began expanding to contain knowledge that spans millions of years.
When the transformation finally subsided, William broke the chamber and the whole wall collapsed. His body is now a hybrid between human and Cybertronian. A thirteen meter giant strong enough to withstand direct hits from artillery fire, fast enough to outrun most vehicles, and smart enough to outthink any opponent.
He looks down at his hands, flexing his fingers as metal plates slide seamlessly into place. "Humanity was just a starting point," he says, his voice echoing through the tomb. "Now I'm ready for what comes next."
He turns and heads for the entrance which now felt like a proper door for his size. Outside, the sun is just beginning to rise over the desert, painting the sky in shades of gold and blue that match the light glowing from his chest.
He connects to the network, sending a second message to Dr. Joyce—this one filled with detailed specifications for the exoskeleton design, including materials science breakthroughs that won't be discovered for decades in the original timeline.