"You want to talk about wasted lives? What about all the people who died following your orders? The road-sweepers and the haulers. The miners! All those who died in service to a future you promised to bring about? Did they waste their lives? Did I waste mine? Look around you. Every flower represents a life you ended—a death for which you bear full responsibility. You think they're all Autobots?"

I could go on, but have you noticed? I've stopped the music!

Is this significant? Why yes, yes it is!

You're thinking, "I've seen what the other four can do, but what about their leader, with his fine music, and his literary quotations, and his double fusion cannon? What makes him so special?"

Here's the thing. They say I can talk people to death. "Weaponized conversation," they say.
"I don't know," I say. "Sounds a bit pretentious."
"Maybe so," they say, "but you can modulate the timbre of your voice so that it falls into step with the pulse of the listener's spark."
"Well," I say, "there is that."
"And then, by gradually lowering your voice," they say, "you can coax the spark into giving up."
That's what they say. What do you say?