Three tiers of semicircular counters equipped with workstations and chairs look down upon a wall of larger monitors. The room is always filled with the clicking and beeping of typing and data transmission. Most of the staff are Cybertronians instead of drones; the work of coordinating the security, maintenance, fuel and resource distribution of the planet is beyond the limited capabilities of Shockwave's drones. Doubledealer's talons click on the hard cold floorplates as he walks in cautiously, cocking his head one way and the other. "Lord Galvatron. You wanted to speak to me?" Doubledealer