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Anonymous
Different anon here, watch me make a complete fool of myself with my failed attempt at writefaggotry.
The sliding door parted swiftly to let in a tall figure in a neat black suit, battle mask covering most of his face but optics shining brightly enough to give off an amused, self assured glint. Another blue mech, sitting amidst a jungle of computers, barely raised his visor to greet the new arrival. "Agent Prime 007: five breems late." "And a good day to you too, Soundwave. You're looking particularly lovely today." "Flattery: not required. Please desist." "Am I not allowed to praise my boss' secretary? What kind of country do we live in?" Soundwave's monotone hitched lightly. "Mr. P: impatiently waiting. Suggesting immediate contact." The *secretary*, who was actually a skilled communication officer and hacker, pointed to the plain grey door at the end of the room. Prime shook his head in mock despair, going to his doom. When P wasn't pleased, he would usually talk his audios off about duty and the importance of going by the rules. Prime didn't need reminding, obviously; he was the best agent on Cybertron and they both knew it. Which made those little scolding sessions unnecessary, and more annoying than they should.
(Decent? I need help with puns and such like.)
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