“Hm. Well, thank you,” the spectre of Armax replies, tossing the ghostly spear into her other hand and twirling it once. “It served me well in life. It was human-made, actually, given to me by the Empress of the Lucillan. She was a rather unpleasant woman, honestly, but it was the diplomatic thing to do. And I suppose I learned to never again underestimate human craftsmanship, as well.”
Optimus Prime’s spectre disappears, the thirteenth Prime likely drawing himself back to Trecedim to continue his endless vigil over the moon. The other ghosts within the Tomb continue to loiter about, occasionally glancing at Axis as they did. Some regard her with a neutral expression, others a more critical stare, and others still don’t quite seem to know what to make of her yet.
As it was the Matrix that brought them here in the first place, invoking the talisman’s power again will likely send them away. Though why and how the Matrix conjured these ghosts here remains a mystery.
Megatronus returns Firestorm’s gaze. Perhaps surprisingly, he smiles, as if greeting an old friend.
Aethus picks up on the implication behind the Headmaster’s words- or what he believes to be the implication, anyway. “Megatronus taught us to not deny ourselves any advantage, ally, or asset in battle,” he says. “If you come to need the Requiem Blaster again, I’m sure that he will understand.”
“Hey, hey! Chill, guys, just give me a minute,” Salvage groans through the commlink. A second later, the cargo bay’s spherical hatch peels open, its panels retreating into the hull.
“Did the humans not teach you guys how to knock when they rebuilt you, or something?” Salvage grumbles. “For spark’s sake…”
The grey-and-purple Follower first steps forward, perhaps to defend the Pulsar from perceived intrusion, but when he sees Oreo, Defender, and Razor being allowed inside, he relents. Not far away, the blonde-haired human woman notes his reaction with intrigue.