Downburst leads Wildsong down a flight of stares to the first level of the lab, in which surgeon and diagnostic drones were clustered around five operating tables, muttering to each other as they cut into the bodies of five comatose beasts- predacons, to be precise:
"As I'm sure you're aware, we've been experimenting with predacon clone since we captured Shockwave," Downburst narrates. Brainpan stares wide-eyed at the predacons on the tables, fascinated by the creatures.
"We bred fourteen specimens in total before our enemies took him two weeks ago, killing one of the clones in the process."
He waves a hand to the five predacons being operated on.
"Of the remaining thirteen, these five have shown the most promise of serving our cause as war beasts."
"Well it wasn't me," Grommet snorts, "nor Switchblade here."
He gestures to the feline.
"I dunno," Sprocket says, shrugging his shoulders, "you're always working on all those mechanimals over here; I imagine it'd be pretty easy to put bugs in 'em and let 'em loose in Little Iacon, wouldn't it?"
"I-!" Grommet sputters. "Of all your insufferable jabs at my profession, sir, this is by far the most egregious! I won't have a second-rate buffoon who spends his days playing with broken toys question my loyalties!"