[The feed switches on, tilted and awkward as sparks are thrown across the view and static interrupts the feed intermittently. The image is mostly showing a part of a pile of junk, crushed and scattered, but also part of a cybertronian's lower arm, hand and continuing on out of view, a leg.

Except it looks as if whoever this is, is having... issues. The metal's cracking, then melting, purplish energy leaking out and then it all seals up again, pristine. Until brownish boils appear, burst and let something that looks suspiciously organic slide out before that too disappears and leaves simple metal again. Between all that, sometimes the white and blue metal simply looks... odd. As if it's not merely metal anymore.]

The balance is restored... Unicron lives again! [The speaker might be sounding faintly disappointed, but if so, it's quickly drowned as the voice turns to triumph, and then the camera is redirected from showing that continuously melting and reforming bit of plating to a face. The face isn't melting and looks surprisingly whole, showing a somewhat Seeker-like helm (disregarding the horn fin visible at the upper part) and a black mask making up the faceplates.]

Such a sweet, delicious song. [It's hard to tell if the low, reverberating chuckle means that "balance", Unicron, or... something else. Then he straighens, optics narrowing just briefly.]

I don't suppose any of you have seen my minicons? About this high. [A hand moves into view, sketching out the height of an average minicon, but the most interesting thing is probably the purplish or right out organic-looking... tentacles? that are snaking from some cracks only to disperse into the general glow of energy around the mech as the cracks close.]

Answer to Terradive, Thunderclash, Gunbarrel and Thunderwing. My poor little pets are lost without me to hide behind, after all. [The tilt to his helm and the glitter in his optics could suggest a smirk if he could make one, but Ramjet would prefer if his minicons were here. He can do a lot of things on his own, but more than two hands and optics available was always useful.]

That over with, however... Such a delightful place. It was a while since I've been privy to a Cybertron this young. Vulnerable. Unprotected and already tainted! [He throws his hands wide and laughs softly, but the noise doesn't seem to exactly originate from within him, and the glow from his optics doesn't seem... right.]

They're trying to protect you, aren't they? And they're failing! There's those among you untouched. Crumbling to the darkness within, as is inevitable.

[Suddenly, the shadows seem to fall wrong, twisting the face into something not-quite as cleanly angular as it should be as his optics flare but still doesn't lift the darkness around his faceplates.]

For those of you not under the protection of our dear creator... Come to me! You can be more than you are even now, and if you prove yourselves, power unimaginable and life until the end of all things shall be yours!

[The hand offered to the screen turns from a fairly normal cybertronian hand into something with claws; smooth and while still made of metal... wrong. The purple energy swirling about it actually shorts the feed out instead of it being turned off normally.]

In case it wasn't obvious, the individual who made a grandoise speech about the taints and darkness and Unicron is, in fact, a threat to every living creature upon this planet.

His name is Ramjet, and he is one of Unicron's foremost Heralds. Generals, in a sense, creatures devoted chassis, processer, and spark to bringing about the End.

His power is immense. Do not engage him. If you are lucky, he will kill you quickly. If you are not lucky, then he will be in a playful mood and toy with you. In fact, I would suggest nothing less than the direct hands of our-

[and here he pauses, just for a moment, but it's there]

-of those who call themselves Firstforged, to bring him down. His power is equal if not greater. In another dimension, another world- he assaulted two of them. At once. And came out the better.

Do not underestimate him.

[the last is somewhere between a desperate plea and an intent warning]

Starscream, I was wondering if you had a moment to talk.

[He sounds somewhat unsure, though the particular reason isn't glaringly obvious in the little he says.]

[Things have been a little grim around here lately, how about lighting things up with a few prank phone calls? And if "lighting" means annoying half the planet, then so be it. Kay and Cheetor have this both totally covered, no worries. It's just a little bit of fun after all, who can it hurt? It took Cheetor far longer than he'd like to figure out how to hide their location, now let the fun begin!

Someone is calling you mechs and organics alike, dare you answer?

No one says that either of them are going to be any good at this.]