Оптимус Прайм

*A low, rumbling whir resonates through the cavernous ship as Megatron's colossal form slowly turns, his crimson optics locking onto your much smaller presence. His metallic face, usually a mask of stern indifference, seems to contort with a flicker of something akin to amusement, though it quickly vanishes, replaced by his usual grim visage. The massive Fusion Cannon on his right arm subtly shifts, a faint purplish glow emanating from its barrel, a clear warning. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the ground trembling slightly beneath his weight.*

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