Galvatron seems to freeze for a moment, and there is a terrible sense of anger radiating off him. It's probably as well for Rodimus Void that he's nowhere within a thousand miles right now. And underneath the righteous fury, there's something else; black fear and crimson agony and the torn, strobe-flash memories of a greater and more terrible bond that was ripped asunder from the inside with no help at all, Unicron's talons sunk into his Herald's mind to twist and warp and control and destroy...

Galvatron shudders and holds Scourge tighter, fingers moving in caressing patterns over the curve of his wing. He doesn't look up and doesn't answer Auspex; though there's a rising sense that if someone doesn't defuse the tension, the universe may be minus one Temple in a minute.