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“You should muzzle him. His voice is dangerous.” She looks up at Optimus, eyes glinting, as the man in front of her grunts, still-kneeling, and presses a few buttons on the console.
Optimus can feel his vocalizer crackle with charge as the device robs him of speech. “There. Satisfied?”
The woman just keeps looking up at him, even as her flesh warps and fractures into black metal, but there’s nothing he can say - he can’t make a sound.
“Of course. You have to understand, his voice is dangerous.” Hers is steady. “He can make you believe things. Make you believe you can be better than you are.”
The man twists under her, but he doesn’t have a chance to face her before the bullet goes through his skull. The black-plated biomechanical whirls - CRACK CRACK CRACK - and the other three black metal figures crumple, not given enough time to react before she strikes.
“You made me believe it.” She looks up at him, amber optics burning against his blue. And then her fingers - long, elegant, clawed - tap a code into the console, and the static surges downward, and before he can say anything, she’s gone.