Romans & histoires Transformers Rotb Mirage

The kind of sound an animal made when it was fighting itself. I turned the handle again and stepped back into the room. Mirage was standing at the window still, but his posture had changed. His hands gripped the sill so tightly I could see the tremor in his knuckles. His shoulders were rigid, his head slightly bowed. And when he turned, I froze. His eyes-those silver eyes I had memorized-were bleeding into red. "Mirage..." My voice cracked. He flinched. His gaze darted toward me, wild, unsteady, as though he hadn't expected me to still be there.

Every strike was anticipated, and every feint countered before it could begin, as they moved in a blur of silver and blue with their bodies clashing in the rhythmic precision of a ticking clock. Alexander identified a 0.4-millisecond lag in the Mirror’s joint articulation and exploited the gap with a low sweep, but the Mirror simply liquefied its legs to allow the blade to pass through harmlessly. The Mirror immediately retaliated with a whip-like strike that scorched the fabric of Alexander’s tactical vest, narrowly missing his primary cooling vents. "You’re slowing down, Brother," the Mirror taunted. "The Ice is brittle. It can’t handle the heat of a real-time overwrite."