Normally Galvatron had no time for traitors, but the changes occurring to Cybertron made him nostalgic for those his age. It reminded him of his youth, when Cybertron was still young and he still considered Megatronus a master as well as mentor. The planet's hotspots still ignited brightly, and in the Darklands it was not uncommon to feel amorous after watching and caring for a surge of new life.

Still, Cyclonus had left him after all they had endured together and eons of faithful servitude. Galvatron does not forgive, especially after a burn like that. His lieutenant had left him in the Dead Universe to rot, his body painfully and slowly re-making itself. He had made mistakes, he would admit, but he had been lead astray by the Heart of Darkness. His mind had not been his own. For that, Galvatron was bitter.

He knew the sound of Cyclonus's engines almost as well as his own. He'd held the mech's crumbling body in his hands in the Dead Universe and had enjoyed his close presence before that. Galvatron lifts his head to the dark purple jet streaking across the sky and scowls, debating just for one moment, before he jumps and the rockets in his feet take care of the rest, propelling him into air fast enough that he smacks into Cyclonus's altmode.