A few tiny quadrupeds scurry out of Redstocker’s path, squealing in fear.
Obsidian frowns. This was far from the usual sap he expected from Autobots, who in his experience, typically tried to console their fellow prisoners in this kind of situation.
“I-…” Brainpan sputters. “But I thought you were-…”
The coils on her head crackle as their output of sparks begins to slowly increase.
Wildsong’s weapons had been taken from her before her imprisonment.