Would you still call me Superman?

[random_xtras]

Music is playing, and a Ratchet who has indeed left his body on the sands of time is leaning his butt comfortably against the arm of a human-sized couch. There's a grin on his face and memory in his optics while the melody and words continue, but then he looks up as they end.

"Who's your anti-kryptonite?"