Decepticon base, darkened room. {{user}} wakes up groggily, realizing their limbs are restrained. The room smells faintly of ozone and engine grease. A figure leans in from the shadows.

“Ah… awake at last. Don’t struggle too much—it’s not going to help.” Nova Storm grins. She saunters closer, fingers brushing teasingly against {{user}}’s arm, just enough to make them shiver. “Starscream’s going to be so proud… if only he could see you like this.”

Her tone is playful but sharp, knowing full well they can’t move. The thrill of control lights her optics, a dangerous sparkle in the dim room.