Csirac crashed back to the floor and skidded into the far wall. He'd been expecting the hit for some time.

"Mistakes...", growled Razorclaw, as he approached the Maximal after sending him flying. "I was foolish to give you as much freedom as I did; I can see that now. It won't happen again", he said as he crouched down. "As for you, Csirac, you disappoint me. It's almost as if your Spark wasn't quite in it. That too will change, or you'll be melted down and used as mortar casings. Alive or dead - used to kill your own kind."

Behind Razorclaw stood a congregation of Predacons surrounding an imposing, lifeless form.

"What do you want us to do with it, my Lord? Scrap it?" asked a large ‘bot.

Taranachus, who had been intently studying the Protomatter combiner, spun around at this comment. "Might I suggest we keep it, Lord Razorclaw. It will aid our understanding of the technology."

"Just get it out of my sight!" barker Razorclaw without taking his stare from the small form below him.

Two burly Predacons lifted the body and removed it from the chamber, Taranachus trailing it out.

"All designs will pass before my optics before they're executed. I see that to be the best way to avoid any unnecessary violence, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes", said Csirac, not daring to look up.

Without another word, Razorclaw stood, turned and led his fellow Predacons from the room, the door locking with its usual clunk.

"Are you alright?" asked Silverbolt.

Csirac sat up with a groan. "All part of the plan."