Dirge reporting in, my Lord. Ramjet is here as well, though I believe he requires the services of a medic.

Bunch of slagging hypocrite Autobots.  Due process and appropriate punishment by the leaders are all well and good until one of your beloved fellow Autobots gets hit. Then you become an angry mob, baying for the cuplrit's energon to be spilled in the dirt.

You're worse then us. At least we're honest and proud about our lust for destruction.

All of you are giant. Slagging. Idiots.

Reason #1) Squishies on base. What the slag happened to keeping this place a slagging SECRET? Primus, you're all dumb

Reason #2) Slagging obvious holos. What the slag is this? You choose famous humans to use for a holo and are slagging surprised that you get attention? YOU ARE ALL IDIOTS.

Reason #3) Making movies and going on human TV shows. Enough said.

Idiots.

I require volunteers for a mission from Lord Megatron. Only fliers need apply.

Where's your fataft?


Also, Lord Megatron, may I have my null ray back please?

Blast Off, Swoop: Report as soon as you are ready to depart. 

Just so you slaggers know, me,  Ramjet and Thrust are camping outside the base until this rust thing clears up. Sure as the Pit, I am not getting infected. Also, since the common room is in the quarantine area...where can we find more energon?

*huddled behind an outcropping outside the base*

Can't go inside. Rust will get me.
 
Can't go inside. Rust will get me.

Can't go inside. Rust will get me.

Can't go inside. Rust will get me.

Can't go inside. Rust will get me.

Can't go inside. Rust will get me.

This place is getting boring. I need to get OUT and stretch my wings. I grow tired of sitting here and waiting. Lord Megatron is there anything that needs doing? I need to keep myself occupied. One can only write so much poetry after all.