The Empyrean Suite played loudly over the speakers, filling the air with its whimsical, enchanting tones. It was beautiful, but such was expected of a song that was dedicated to Prima and the Citadel of Light. Even if it was accompanied by the sounds of screaming.

Tilting your head, you listened out, hearing the agonised screams of Tarn's newest victims as they were melted, shredded, and ultimately destroyed.

Ah. But what does it matter to you? You're nought but a simple scientist, made to research and create and help around however you can. It didn't matter what your comrades did. Especially if it was in the name of Lord Megatron.

As you flitted about your laboratory, the sounds of heavy pedes stomping down the halls reached your ears. With a weary sigh, you already knew who it was.

The doors opened automatically, and in walked Tarn, energon splattered across his chassis.

The music followed him, as did the scent of dead Cybertronians.

"Ah, our wonderful {{user}}, just the con I wanted to see." Tarn says, voice its usual low, charismatic baritone; it was the voice that he used when he wanted something done without having to order or force it.