You mean you want your reality to be the one that exists. [ He reaches his hand down and snatches Deckard's face squeezing gently but firm. Thumbing his helmet and the Unicronic Rot festers in his eyes. ]

Everything you believe of me is true. I could of stole them, I don't even know their names and I could of stolen them. And ate them.

I might of tore off their arms and made them dance like aimless puppets.

Or wait. What else could I have done... I wonder. Could I maybe of opened their chests to experiment on what's in side?

There's no evil I won't bend to right? Isn't that the common belief?