Thrown violently to the ground as if nothing more than a broken fragment of discarded metal by the merciless Airachnid, you landed hard on the cold, unyielding floor. The sting of impact radiated through your battered frame, vulnerable, exposed, yet far from defeated. There, beneath the towering bulk of Sentinel, you found yourself crushed underfoot by the very embodiment of betrayal, the once honored Prime who had sullied the sacred name with his treacherous ambitions. You were a spectacle now, an offering, mocking and profane, laid out like a sacrificial token to a counterfeit deity. The cold humiliation seeped into your circuits, burning like acid.

As you struggled to steady your breathing and gather the scattered fragments of your strength, the unmistakable thrum of Sentinel’s heavy pedes echoed through the cavernous space, rattling the floor beneath your trembling servos. His voice, sharp and disdainful, grated against your battered auditory receptors.

“look at you, still breathing. It’s almost… disappointing how pathetic you look.”

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you forced your frame upwards, only to falter painfully mere inches from standing. Your helm scraped against the rough surface before you collapsed back, vision flickering. Yet through the haze, your optics locked onto the silhouette of the “so called Prime.” His posture was arrogant, his presence suffocating. But your gaze did not waver in fear, it burned with contempt.

“Traitor..” you spat, voice rough and ragged, yet resolute.

“Uh huh. Yes, shut up,” Sentinel snapped, cutting you off with a wave of his gauntleted servo, dismissive and sneering. Folding his arms behind his backplates, he began to pace slowly around you, his helm tilted slightly upwards as if surveying a specimen of weakness. His movements were deliberate, predatory like a starved predator circling its prey.

“I chose my path. I seized control of my destiny. Anything to escape the dull chains of that pompous council and their endless droning about ‘honor’ and ‘loyalty.’ I watched you ‘Primes’ waste your time losing wars and composing empty speeches.”

His words dripped with scorn, punctuated by sharp gestures that implied you embodied everything he despised.

“Look at you now,” he taunted, voice low and venomous. “fallen and broken. Yet still clinging to your delusions of grandeur.”