[Haven, you know what? You look like you could really use one of Drift's wackadoodle theories right now. ]

The First Forged aren't telling us everything.

[Drift does not mince words. Bad guys, yes. Words, not so much.]

There were other settlers here before us. Over and over again. They died. We're not the first. We're not special or chosen. [And part of him hates that thought.]

And the First Forged couldn't--or didn't--protect them. [This is all review for the old-timers, but there are new people here, and besides, it's a dot he's trying to connect up.]

Wing and I and the others found a cave where some of them had lived. They died. All of them. But they're trapped here, as ghosts. [Another dot.]

And worse--we went back, and their bodies were...reanimated. Like zombies. They attacked us. They were trying to protect something in the cave.

[He frowns, because he really doesn't like public speaking, especially this next part.]

A lot of people disappeared recently. Like whatever it is--the call, Unicron, whatever--like it's gaining strength, picking up steam. We need to do something. Because I don't know about you, but, well, for a lot of reasons, I don't want to have to suddenly find myself fighting a zombie Ultra Magnus.

[Or Vandal. No, he can't even go there in his head. He's connecting dots and it is a really unpleasant picture.]

[Talk of zombies and stuff has Smokescreen on edge. Not because the Firstforged aren't telling them things.

No.

Because he's scared he'll see the hits he's lost here. Optimus. Ratchet. Ultra Magnus. There's a part of him that's bitter at the thought of them bein trapped here as ghosts or zombies, to think that there is really no going home.

Another part of him doesn't want to believe any of it. He wants to think like Perceptor and not be skeptical.

Still...]

Anyone want to go ghost hunting and find some answers? Since apparent ghosts are a thing here now.

[Everyone is concerned about ghosts and whatnot, meanwhile Albert has other things on his mind. Some things that have been weighing heavily. ]

Let me ask you something.

Now, you don't need to give me details because I'm not planning on sharing details, but still. Has there ever been a time you compromised yourself...what you stood for? To survive?

[The clink of his mechanical finger can be heard before it drifts off. There was also the matter of the rampant cycles of murder-revenge and how the police force have been dealing with it...but that would wait another time.]

Anyway, since I'm on here, anyone have anything happen to their glyph? Mine's got this...purple outline around it. It's faint, but still...

[Rose is in her room, in front of a mirror she had found in the Junk Pile. The armor leather jacket she usually wears is off, and her shirt sleeve is rolled up to, showing her glyph, which is now sporting a black outline. There is a frown of concern on her face, and she addresses the recording Link device without looking away.]

Are these glyphs suppose to change colors, or does this mean that something is wrong?

[Because she's pretty sure that tattoos are not suppose to do something like this on their own.]