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“Dearly beloved,” Rodimus began. His voice cracked, and he paused, optics flickering as he tried to summon his composure. Quiet sobs broke the silence of the crowd that surrounded him and the crumpled, fallen form of their now lost companion. Before them, on a pedestal, a horrifying vision: a cracked body, flaking paint, with one wing bent at a grotesque angle, the other missing its tip. No mech needed the wisdom of Ratchet or the learning of First Aid to know that their dear friend could not be fixed. Truly, the crew had to face the unbearable truth: Rodimus's spoiler was dead.
The Lost Light would never be the same. How could it, with the profile of their captain permanently ruined?
