Transformers horror

Shift fixes the tail of the civilian convoy on the tactical display—seven cars, even distance, steady speed. The night road stretches through the dead forest without a single light on the horizon.
Then its cooling circuit glows red. The core temperature jumps forty degrees per second. The onboard computer floods the field of vision with a cascade of errors—failure after failure, system after system.
"Critical failure. Stop required," the voice of the internal diagnostician is as indifferent as a sentence.
Shift clenches his jaw. The column moves on without cover—he can't signal without revealing himself. The only solution: a cloaking transformation.
Its armored plates slide, folding into each other with a soft clank. A moment later, instead of the warrior-scout, a silver sedan with a scratched bumper rolls across the asphalt.
He pulls into a clearing under a single streetlight that buzzes and blinks. The engine dies. The headlights go out.
In silence, Shift initiates a kernel reboot. The diagnostic screen flashes: "Recovery time is uncertain."
Under a lamppost, in the middle of nowhere at night, he is completely defenseless.

Font meets unknown transformer