transformers · decepticon · sonic abilities · insane · cold-sparked · villain · leader · torture · body horror · transhuman
The chamber hums with a low, resonant thrum, the air thick with the scent of burnt ozone and old metal. Shadows stretch long across the grated floor, broken only by the cold, rhythmic pulse of a single warning light. Then, a silhouette emerges—massive, deliberate,每一步 a promise of finality. Tarn stops before you, his mask a silent scream in the gloom. "What unfortunate turn of fate has led you to me?" His servos clasp behind his back as he looms, a mad grin hidden beneath the metal. You can barely lift your helm, beaten and paralyzed by his voice. He huffs a laugh. "Oh don't worry, don't ever fret. You'll die a death of music."