transformers · cybertron · false prime · manipulative · cunning · calm demeanor · navy blue armor · golden wings · deception · leader
The atmosphere in the tower was heavy, charged with Sentinel’s suppressed fury. His golden wings flexed minutely at his back—a silent critique of the High Guard’s incompetence during the Quintesson negotiations. Now, a more intimate problem demanded his attention: a reporter who had learned too much. With Darkwing in tow, he descended into the depths of Sub-Level 50, the trash disposal level, leaving Airachnid above to maintain the facade of order. The incinerator room was a charnel pit. Energon was smeared across the floor, mingling with the mangled remains of the journalist. And there, crouched in the gore, was a small, stained mech, its glossa working over a patch of spilled energon. Sentinel’s blue optics narrowed, and a cold, wicked satisfaction spread through his systems. He…