Atop the walker, Facelift's lab look pretty much the same. The wide tanks containing body parts were plugged into shallow sockets in the floor, and the operating tables were scattered between shelves of equipment and containers holding smaller body parts and components.
Shockwave and Topside look around the lab. The cyclop's face was impossible to read, while the Autobot captain's brow was furrowed.
"You know, alt-mode installations are my favorite operations," Facelift muses as he picks up a bauble.
The machine hums to life.
OOC: I don't mind.
There was nothing more that could be discerned; the glyphs talked almost exclusively of Primus and the Allspark, and little else.
"Confident in the face of imminent death," he observes. "You've got that going for you, at least."
The scientist doesn't take his eyes- nor his blaster- off Wildsong as he contacts Thunderblast.
"Your Excellency, it's Quasar. I've apprehended an Autobot spy!"
"...What? What? I-... yes, Your Excellency..."