Deep in the one of the more obscure recesses of the Decepticon dreadnaught, the interior illumination grew perceptibly dimmer. The change was subtle, at first, but just as the stale air grew progressively fouler, so too did the passages steadily darken. Even in the unsettling half-light, one could see that the bulkheads and deck plating were coated in a glistening layer of some slick, unidentifiable ichor. Remains of old meals littered the floor in increasing profusion, torn and gnawed virtually beyond recognition. Those few scraps that could be identified would have been deeply disturbing to most Transformers, and scarcely bore prolonged consideration.
Mindwipe’s footfalls, though quiet, had not gone unnoticed. As the hypnotist passed by one inky black alcove, two pairs of fiery red optics, baleful as the Pit itself, sparked to life. Padding forth silently on clawed feet, the sentinel trailed after the intruder, studying his movements, savoring what was to come. Finally, he brought one paw down with deliberate force, so that it could not fail to go unnoticed.
“Lovely,” growled Sinnetwin’s two vaguely canine heads in unison. “Yes, lovely. A lovely morsel, to present itself so willingly in the den of the Terrorcons.”
Twin gouts of flame erupted from the beast’s mouths, only missing Mindwipe by the narrowest of margins. Sinnertwin had no interest in ending his sport so quickly, though. First, he would savor this puny mechanoid’s abject fear, make it watch as he scattered its insides over the slime and the offal.
“Will it scream for me?” inquired the right head, lowering to glare up at the other Decepticon from beneath permanently scowling brows. “Will its lovely cries make sweet music as they echo through these empty halls?”
“Or does it die quickly to escape the pain?” asked the left, raising up to glower down at his intended victim. “Does it make a lovely meal for the Terrocons?” Another wave of hellish-hot fire rolled along the floor, licking at Mindwipe’s feet.
“I cannot wait to find out, Lovely …”