Facelift concentrates his efforts on the body’s half-finished transformation cog.
Everything Spectrum would need was at her disposal; the amorphous metal around the body could be shaped into whatever form she desired.
Corona begins to walk toward the facility, when two phantoms materialize before the party. One was a minicon with dirty yellow armor, large green eyes, and wheels for legs, and the other was a tall junkion with crimson armor accented by gold and bronze, bearing the alt-mode of a terran pickup truck. He had an ornate sword stowed across his back.
The two apparitions look around at the landscape, their eyes drifting over the various members of the party.
“Yo Salvage, check it!” the minicon exclaims, looking toward his companion. “We’re spectral apparitions appearing before our ancestors to give them vague an’ mysterious premonitions of the future!”
“Uh, Bootleg?” the one called Salvage reacts, sounding nervous, “I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be self-aware spectral apparitions, man.”
“What? There a code to bein’ a ghost or somethin’?” Bootleg retorts. “I’ll make all the metacommentary I want, an’ ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me!”
Salvo could be seen at the bazaar. As one might expect, she was eyeing a storefront that had a variety of large and intimidating weapons on display.
No sound came from the recording. Corona and Actaeon talked, Driftburn and an unknown bot with a jet mode each made a brief appearance, then everyone went their separate ways.