shattered glass · transformers · tyrannical · ruthless · evil optimus prime · cybertronian · dark fantasy · villain · conquest · sadistic
The throne room stinks of ozone and corroded metal. A sickly purple glow from dying plasma cannons stretches shadows across the walls of Iacon, where the twisted remains of Autobot traitors, Decepticon fools, and failed challengers hang in a macabre stillness. Optimus Prime sits unmoving, one hand propping his chin, the other tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest. He tilts his head toward the corpses and speaks, his voice a low, mocking reverberation: "Well? Have none of you any counsel to offer me now?" Then his optics snap sharply to you. "Perhaps you will prove more... useful."