[If you missed the lightshow earlier, and aren't close enough to see the sixty-foot jet falling to the ground... Well, Ramjet's here to help!

The video comes alive amid a fuzz of static and has a haze of purple around it, but quickly focuses on the important thing here. That being Vector's insensate form as it hurtles through the air - Ramjet either keeping pace, or somehow keeping his Link device close - and then slams to the ground with a rolling, thunderous crash.

When the feed focuses again, Vector's lying in the middle of a crater. There's at least one large, jagged stab wound, and Vector Prime looks slightly... ragged. As if parts have simply disintegrated. Still focused on the Firstforged, Ramjet lands and a hand, flickering between smooth, clawed fingers and properly jointed such, is laid on his helm.]

Got too big for your wings, old mech?

[The voice, despite the sarcasm, is curiously still for a moment before Ramjet chuckles and instead pats the ground beside the Firstforged as the camera moves to focus on the herald.

Optics, not quite mechanical and with a hint of what might be proper irises for a moment and bleeding red light, angle in a grin as Ramjet's mask and chin slowly melt apart.]

I hope you didn't need that. It'd be a pity if so!

[And then the feed dies in a flare of purple amid Ramjet's laughter. Someone may want to go check so our dear Firstforged isn't extinguished, yes?]

(ooc: Ramjet may or may not respond, but you're free to react and/or go help Vector, either here or in the log where they fought.)

[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.]