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Within the southern part of the Northern Territory in central Australia there lies a large sandstone rock formation…Uluru, also known as Ayers Rock. It is located 208 miles (335 km) south west of the nearest large town. The area surrounding the formation is home to a variety of natural resources including springs, waterholes and rock caves as well as ancient paintings. The picturesque locale attracts natives and tourists alike; however in recent years the inability to conserve the surrounding environment has forced the park rangers to close it to the public. Now without the intrusion of the human population the area has become The Fallen and his Herald’s staging ground for the upcoming Cybertronian Apocalypse.


Australia - Uluru

There was no flash of brilliant light. No puff of smoke, nor was there any sound. Atop the rock the ancient Cybertronian Prime who considered himself the Seneschal of the Future appeared; his tetrad of Heralds at his side.

The Fallen took in his barren, dry surroundings for several minutes. There were no native bipedal species, no native fauna and sparse numbers of flora. It was an ideal location for their gathering.

Still engulfed in flames and in a severely altered frame, The Fallen turned to look upon his brood, a broad genuine smile on his face. “You should all be proud. You have already proven to the non-believers that they do not stand a chance.” He paused for a moment taking time to study their reactions.

The Fallen looked each one in the optics before he set his eyes on the whole of the gathered group. A deep scowl replaced the smile. “Those ignorant cretins. They revel in their egoism and deluded beliefs!” He cast his gaze over the landscape watching as the sun’s receding rays as they painted the desert a multitude of colors. “They revel in their boundless arrogance; they choose to ignore the warnings of the ancients, claiming them to be nothing but fairytales.”

A low laugh escaped the Prime as he tuned to look back on his gathered brood. “Oh, how wrong they are.” The Fallen raise his arms out to his sides and tossed his head back. “I am the Harbinger of Unicron! The dark God of Chaos and Entropy!” He released a bellowing guffaw as he lowered his head and arms. “With the death of the last guardian of the Matrix, I will finally open the gateway for the great Devourer to enter.”

You do realize that you’ll be stopped, don’t you?

Ahh, there you are. And like your brethren you too are delusional. No one, no one, shall stand in my way.

That’s what you think.

He ignored the inner conflict as his youngest Herald stepped forward. “Master? How will we bring our God here?” The Fallen regarded Hex for a long moment before placing a taloned hand gently on his cheek. “By taking from this planet, its source of life, my child.”

Australia - Uluru

Hardhead and Drag Strip appeared alongside their fellow heralds and their master, the Fallen. It had felt good to finally reveal themselves for what they really were to the rest of the Cybertronians that littered the sandy battlefield of the Korean Peninsula. The looks on their faceplates had been priceless and brought much joy to both the war veteran and the former racing champion alike. The charade was over with and now planning the extinction of both factions could begin!

“If only Motormaster had been there, as well,” Drag Strip said as he glared across the surrounding terrain. “I look forward to bashing his slaggin’ faceplate in and ripping out his brain module once I see him again. He had the power before, but now I do and he will pay for the way he treated me. He will pay with his very spark!”

Hardhead chuckled at his comrade’s lust for vengeance. “Patience, my friend. All Cybertronians will pay dearly for their crimes, Motormaster included. Besides, it is not our own personal vendettas that bring us here to this barren place. We are here to service our master, the Fallen, and likewise his master, Unicron! We are here to wipe clean the scourge that are the Autobots and Decepticons! We must not be selfish with our new powers. We must use them for the reasons given to us and have faith that our own grudges will be settled in the process of serving our God of Chaos!”

Drag Strip looked up at the larger green mech and shrugged. “I suppose you’re right, my ally. With a little patience we will see them all burn before us.”

It was then that their attention was drawn to the Fallen as he addressed his heralds atop the rock known as Uluru by the fleshlings of this world. The fiery Prime praised them all for their efforts before growing increasingly more serious as he chastised the Cybertronians for their misguided arrogance and ignorance. They were truly wrong to assume that the Fallen was only a myth, a story told to scare hapless protoforms. Now, both ‘Bots and ‘Cons would suffer greatly at the hands of supposed fairytale characters.

As the Fallen announced his plan to bring Unicron, himself, through to this world, Hex spoke up and asked how that would be accomplished. “How, indeed,” Drag Strip echoed the sentiments of the young mech as he moved to stand beside Hex. The Fallen’s answer was one that perplexed the former Stunticon. “But, Master, what source of life do you speak of? The humans, perhaps? Are we to rampage across this world and exterminate them all or am I being too sadistic? Heh.”

Hardhead chuckled again as he approached the fallen Prime of the Ancients, the glow of the setting sun shining off his green armored plating like a beacon of death. “Sadism is in the optic of the beholder. This planet had life before the humans were here, Drag Strip. I feel the Fallen means something a bit different. Am I correct, Master?”

Australia – Uluru

From Hex, the Harbinger of the Lord of Chaos turned his attention to that of the former racer…Drag Strip was such a worthy addition to his chosen group. The Stunticon wanted death for his former squad leader, but that hatred and that destruction could be turned against his own kind quite easily. The promise of power saw to that.

A small, but very wicked smile creased the Fallen’s lips as he stared down at the yellow mech. “You shall have your chance, my disciple. That I promise you.” To emphasize the truth to his words the flaming mech placed a clawed hand on Drag Strip’s shoulder and gave it a gentle yet firm squeeze.

From the former racer the Fallen’s attention moved to that of his warrior. The large green mech was correct. The group needed to rely on patience. Their time would come soon, but their first requirement was to rest and conserved their energy for the up and coming battle. And what a battle it would be. Death and carnage in the name of the Chaos Bringer. Death to the Cybertronian race. The thought only widened the already depraved smile on the Fallen Prime’s face.

“Patience, yes. Patience and rest.” He said his voice low and thoughtful.
A low chuckle echoed from just behind the small group after Drag Strip had questioned their master. But it was Hex who first stepped from in front of his master to take a look at the slim purple mech seated on the ground just behind the group. Darkride had been quiet the entire time. Hex regarded his brother with a questioning expression. “What?” The young mech queried.

“Of course he means something different.” Darkride took in the others with deep blood red optics as he stood from his spot. The interrogator then sent a heinous smile toward Drag Strip. Darkride then raised a taloned hand and pointed up to the sky. “Your answer, my brother, is above you.” Hex cocked his head slightly before taking a long look over his shoulder and up into the sky. Realization set in quickly. “The source of all life on this planet…” He whispered.

A deep resonating laugh sounded from the interrogator. The Fallen sent the mentally deranged ‘Con a wide grin and then set his attention back on both Drag Strip and Hardhead. “That is right, child.” Chest puffed out and head held high, the flamed covered demigod spoke to his gathered Heralds, “I will claim their sun!”

Australia - Uluru

Drag Strip’s lips curled up to reveal a toothy grin as the Fallen placed a clawed hand onto his shoulder plate and gave it a solid squeeze. His master’s promise of vengeance against Motormaster gave him great joy and delight, the likes of which he had not felt in a very long time. The last time the former racer had felt such happiness was the final race he had won before the raceway was permanently shut down due to Decepticon terrorist attacks. Once the war had started and he became part of those filthy Stunticons, Drag found himself no longer on top of the world, but instead under the heel of oppression by his sadistic commander. Now, things have reversed once again, and the yellow mech would relish in his new found power and sense of purpose.

“Thank you, my master,” Drag Strip responded to the Fallen just as the former Decepticon interrogator finally made his presence known after remaining quiet since their arrival here on top of this massive rock formation. Darkride remained seated as he gave an answer to Drag’s query regarding the source of all life on this miserable mudball of a world. The torturer’s clawed digit pointed into the distance towards the horizon where the setting sun had turned the sky into an impressive display of oranges and reds. The former Stunticon followed Hex’s lead and peered over his shoulder at the Sol System's only star.

“Oh, I see,” Drag Strip stated plainly as another devious smile covered his faceplate. The Fallen then confirmed in words what Darkride had eluded to with his actions. The Harbinger of Unicron would claim the sun for himself and thus grant him the power to bring the Chaos Bringer through the portal and into this realm. Once that occurred, all Cybertronians would fall just as their master had so long ago. “That will certainly be a challenge, but I look forward to seeing the skies above grow dark while this world grows cold and desolate. Heh.”

“Indeed,” Hardhead interjected, having listened to everything that was just said by his master and brothers. The revelation of the sun’s destruction brought a feeling of raw power beyond what he had already experienced. Was it actually possible to destroy an entire star? Even with the Fallen’s impressive abilities and the rest of their new found powers, it would be an immense undertaking that seemed almost impossible to reach unless there was some way to accomplish such a remarkable feat that was unknown to the green war veteran. “Master, the sun’s ruination and I assume reclamation of its energies would require an extraordinary amount of power that the four of us do not yet possess. Perhaps, my liege, you have access to such wonders as your abilities clearly surpasses all of us, including myself. How, my lord, will you achieve such a staggering endeavor?”

“A sun harvester,” Drag Strip answered almost as an afterthought. Hardhead glared down at his smaller brother with an inquisitive look etched across his faceplate. The yellow mech looked up at the green herald and smiled before turning his attention back to the Fallen. “At least I'm pretty sure that’s what they were called. It’s hard to remember as I haven’t heard such stories for a very long time. I was a mere protoform when I was first told the ancient tales of massive machines that could extract energon from a star, causing it and all of the planets around said star to die as a result. I never believed in such things until now, of course. After all, if you are real, my master, then perhaps such mechanisms of mass destruction must be, as well.”

The former Stunticon then paused for a moment as the Fallen’s fiery visage now out-shined the setting sun, itself. “Is that your plan, master, to use such a device? Is there even one on this wretched little planet that we may use?”

Australia – Uluru

His lips curled into a cruel grin as The Fallen took in his Stunticon Herald. “A challenge? Hardly.” The fire engulfed demigod ran his hand gently down Drag Strip’s cheek. “You’ve no reason to doubt. This planet’s sun has already been lost. It belongs to me now. And once the Cybertronains realize this…it will be too late.” He let out a chuckle as he stepped past Drag Strip.

The Fallen made his way to the edge of the formation and cast his gaze out over the kaleidoscope that was the landscape. The musings of Hardhead did not go unnoticed, however. Without turning to look at his warrior The Fallen responded. “The stories about my brothers and myself were not exaggerated, Hardhead. They, for the most part, did not downplay what I am capable of.” He placed his hands behind his back as he grew silent in order to watch the sun sink below the horizon. Only then did he turn to face his Heralds. “A harvester, yes. But that will not be enough. No…” A broad, devious smile grew as he slowly made his way toward them.

Hex had listened with deep interest, his optics practically glued to his master as he made his way to the edge of the rock. He was anxious for them to be on their way, but he daren’t express his desire for fear of reprimand. The Fallen’s optics caught his only briefly before the young mech turned his gaze. “Do you doubt?” Hex whipped his head around and came face to face with the fanged grin of Darkride. “Of course not! I’m just…” The weight of his master’s hand on his shoulder quieted him.

“I…I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to…” One clawed digit curled and was gently placed under Hex’s chin and pulled up slightly so he was looking into the fiery mech’s eyes. “You’ve no reason to be sorry, child. This experience is new to you. You’ve killed so few in your short life, but that will soon change.” He gave the smaller bot a smile as he went on. “The fear, the pain, the dread, and the hatred you were subjected to and felt will only fuel your desire to end the Cybertronians’ existence.”

Hex cast a glance in Darkride’s direction. The interrogator offered a slight nod before sidling up to stand before him, replacing his Master’s position. He carefully placed a hand on either side of Hex’s face and pressed his forehead against his former prisoner’s. “We are stronger now. Reborn into something new.” Darkride whispered to his young brother.

“He speaks the truth, child. Your pasts mean nothing. All that matters is fulfilling our Dark Lord's will.” The young bot shutdown his optics as he soaked up everything his brother and Master spoke of. There was no need for doubt. There was no need to remember their pasts. The future is what he needed to focus on. “Yes Master.” His voice was low but it was also calm.

The former Prime turned from both Darkride and Hex in order to face his remaining Heralds. A comforting smile was offered to them as he made his way to stand before them. “The harvester is but one device we will utilize. The other…” The Fallen took a moment to look to each one of his followers in turn, a sinister smile etched on his visage. “The other device will be in the form of the Cybertronians themselves.” Hex gently pulled out of Darkride’s grasp and sent the fiery mech a confused look.

When the younger mech stepped back Darkride cast a lazy gaze in his master’s direction. He already understood. He was, of course, of the same mindset. He chuckled lightly at seeing Hex’s expression. “Come now. You must realize that they will all die, not only to eradicate their species, but to power the…” A wave of his Master’s hand stopped Darkride from proceeding with his explanation. “Enough. Rest. Regain your strength. Revelations will come in time.”

The Fallen stepped passed the interrogator to take up his prior position at the edge of the rock.. Darkride followed his movements, a low chuckle escaping his vocalizer as he looked back to his brothers.

You’ve gathered a bunch of deranged mechs to do your bidding. What makes you think you’ll keep them under control when they’re in the thick of it?

I have a secure hold on each one of them.

Don’t be so sure about that. He may have not said it outright, but one of them has some doubts.

It will be quelled.

And what about your doubts?

Silence permeated though the minds of both the parasite and its host.

Australia - Uluru

“I knew it,” Drag Strip replied with a proud tone, smiling as his master confirmed that a sun harvester would be utilized in the destruction of the nearest star. However, it would not be enough. More was required in order to bring about the end of this world. Unfortunately, before the Fallen was able to elaborate further, his attention was drawn to Hex and Darkride. Both of these mechs were former enemies, sharing a past of torture and pain. The young one even seemed to exhibit some doubts, but denied that such was true when asked by the former interrogator.

Both Darkride and their master gave words of encouragement to Hex to help quell any apprehension that may still linger within. This was not just a new experience for one, but for all four of the heralds. Being reborn into something entirely new and leaving behind their previous lives would take some getting used to. Just as Darkride shared a past with Hex, so too did the former Stunticon. It had not been that long ago when the silver mech had tried to rip out Drag Strip’s spark from his chest cavity. It was emotionally traumatic to say the least, much like the tortures that Hex had endured at the hands of Darkride. In a way, the three of them were connected even before their rebirth.

That left Hardhead as the odd mech out. The green warrior had no real connection to the other three before becoming a herald, but perhaps it was not a necessity. As the Fallen had said, their pasts meant nothing now. Mortal enemies were now friends as they were united together under the guide of their fiery master, brothers in arms with the singular goal of destroying the Cybertronian race once and for all, thus bringing the Dark Lord into this realm.

Hardhead and Drag Strip remained standing next to one another as the Fallen approached them. The flame-engulfed Prime then provided more details regarding the harvester and one other device which was quickly revealed to be the Cybertronians themselves. Drag was surprised by this just as much as Hex was. Darkride’s partial explanation before being interrupted by their master provided only a small clue, but not a full on revelation. Apparently, that would come later once they had all rested and recharged.

The Fallen then returned to the edge of the rock with Darkride close behind him, leaving Hex alone. Drag Strip chuckled under his breath and approached the silver mech, placing a reassuring hand onto his shoulder plate. “Worry not, my brother. I understand your confusion, as well. But, while things may not be clear right now, it will all make sense soon enough. Our master has everything under control. Just have faith in him. After all, you and I were once at each other’s throats and now we are comrades. If the Fallen can achieve that then he can surely achieve anything he desires. Trust in him and trust in us.”

As the former Stunticon gave words of wisdom to Hex, Hardhead moved by them and took up a stance at the edge of the rock directly next to the Fallen. The setting sun was but a mere orange glow now as the circular disc of fire descended below the horizon. Soon all of the light would fade away, leaving behind a darkened sky full of distant stars of all shapes and sizes. Of course, the sun would rise again in a few hours time, but eventually that would also stop and this planet would grow dark forever.

“Master, I couldn't help but wonder,” Hardhead finally spoke up without looking over at the Fallen Prime of legend. “Once we have eradicated the Cybertronian plague and the sun’s light is put out for good and Unicron is freed, what will become of us heralds? What will become of me?” It was a question that the green warrior had been asking ever since the Great War began. He was a solider and knew nothing but battle. That’s what he was good at, not being a regular civilian or mere guard. While many had hoped that the war would end some day, Hardhead secretly hoped it would continue on or at least some conflict would. Otherwise, the veteran would find himself useless in a post-war universe. That same fear still applied even now as a herald. The end was in sight, just not in the way Hardhead had originally envisioned. “I’ve always dreaded the end of war. Peace is not my forte. I fight and I win no matter the cost. When we have reached the endgame here, will I still have a purpose? Will there still be place for me, for us, by your side, my Fallen lord?”

Australia – Uluru

Hex turned his optics on Drag Strip as the former racer placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He was right. His Master was right. There was nothing to fear. They were the chosen. They were the ones who would bring about the apocalypse. A reluctant smile finally made its way to Hex’s face as he regarded his brother. “Yes. I do trust in the Master, brother, just as I trust in all of you.”

While the former racer and the scout exchanged words with one another Darkride had set his optics on the fiery demigod and the warrior.

The Fallen had pondered what his “host” had sent through their share bond. He had no doubts, this mech with whom he shared a body knew nothing of his power, nor did he know what his Master was capable of. Had he opportunity The Fallen would have easily chosen another vessel to possess, but the choice, ultimately, was not his to make. Now he needed nothing more than to endure it.

His musings were interrupted by the voice of his warrior. A smirk drew over The Fallen’s face before he turned to look at Hardhead. “My warrior, you’ve no need to fret.” He placed a reassuring hand on the green mech’s shoulder and offered a tight squeeze. “Each of you was chosen carefully. Your brothers…” he indicated the other three mechs loitering just behind them. “…they are interconnected with one another. Each one not only harbors hatred and pain for the other, but they also despise their own people.”

The Fallen paused for a moment as he looked deep into his unsure Herald’s optics. “And you…you were chosen to lead them. For you see, bringing the Lord of Chaos here is but the first step.” The demigod gestured wide with his free hand to the heavens, sweeping his arm across the darkening sky. “This planet will provide the means for my Master to enter while the rest of the galaxy will be his feeding ground.”

He leaned down slightly so he was face to face with his warrior. “You ask if you will still have a purpose once my Master has arrived and I say yes. There will be other battles, Hardhead, other wars and you will guide your brothers through every victory.”

After his speech The Fallen gave Hardhead a nod, removed his hand from the mech’s shoulder and looked back over the landscape…his hands behind his back. He was quiet for several minutes before he finally spoke once more. “Hardhead, you serve me just as I serve my Master. Remember that.” The fiery mech then looked over his shoulder at his warrior a barely there smile on his face. “Watch over your brothers. They are integral, as are you, to my Master’s plan.”
____

From his perch Darkride watched and listened to the entire conversation that had taken place between his Master and Hardhead. The interrogator couldn’t blame the former Autobot, he too was used to his old ways, so questioning their own existence was probably something The Fallen had foreseen. Of course Darkride’s old ways had nothing to do with fighting the enemy. He did pine be able to do it again, however.

While his younger brother and the former racer spoke, Darkride removed himself from his post and leisurely made his way to the warrior’s side. He waited a moment, hands locked behind his back and his attention focused straight ahead. “You were chosen to watch over us. To lead us. Such a wise choice.” He paused for a moment before he finally looked over at the larger mech. “But that does not mean we cannot watch over you. You want to remain in a violent state; this I can understand, but you’ve no means to relieve such stress, at least not yet.” Darkride turned his attention back ahead. “Use me. It’s not the same if I do it.”
_____

You didn’t answer my question.

The Fallen let out a low grunt at the statement.

It is because I harbor no doubts.

HA! You forget we share the same body, the same mind! I know what you know!

If you truly believe this then tell me, Hot Rod, why am I here?

There was a brief moment of silence before the Autobot’s voice was heard in his mind.

You’re here under your master’s orders to eliminate a race of beings that he’s afraid of.

No. I meant, why am I here…why you? Can you find the answers to those questions?

No. Hot Rod’s voice was low and seemed insignificant. Then tell me. Why me?

Find out for yourself. After all we share the same body and the same mind.

"You are not ready to fight me."

Australia - Uluru

Hardhead listened intently as the Fallen explained the reason for why he had been chosen to become a herald. It was for a very different purpose than the other three. The green warrior was picked specifically to lead his brothers into the many battles that lay ahead not only here but across the rest of the galaxy, as well. The destruction of the Cybertronians and the arrival of Unicron were just the start of something far greater. War and devastation would continue and spread outward from this point to engulf the universe in the fires of chaos and despair. The devourer of worlds would feast upon the remains of what the heralds would destroy and thus become more powerful as each star system fell to the dark lord’s might.

“I understand, my master,” Hardhead said once the Fallen had finished speaking. While he did not show it outwardly, the war veteran was relieved to know that his future was secure with his new comrades, a future that would see all civilizations crumble in their wake. “I will watch over them and guide them into the new era of chaos that is upon us. Neither I nor they will stray from the path that has been chosen for us. We will not falter in our loyalty to you and to Unicron!”

It was then that Hardhead’s attention was drawn to the former interrogator, who offered himself up as a means for the green herald to unleash his violent side during the current downtime. It was a generous gesture, if not a sadistic one, but the veteran soldier could not accept and simply chuckled under his breath. “I appreciate your willingness to be my personal punching bag, Darkride, but that won’t be necessary. I can handle the quiet times just as long as I know that I’ll be needed again when the battle erupts once more. Besides, as our master has already decreed, it is now time to rest and prepare for what is to come. We must regain our strength in order to succeed in our glorious future endeavors.”
_________

Nearby, Drag Strip offered Hex a return smile as the silver herald conceded that he did trust his new brothers along with their master, as well. It seemed that only a few words of encouragement were all that was needed in order to satisfy the young mech’s uncertainties. “Good, I’m very glad to hear that, Hex,” the former racer responded as he removed his hand from his comrade’s shoulder plate. “Now, let us join the others near the edge of the rock, shall we? We don’t want to miss anything important.”

Motioning for Hex to join him, Drag Strip moved over to where the Fallen and the other heralds were congregated. He caught most of what his master had said about Earth being only the inception of a continuous war that would rage across the galaxy once Unicron was finally unleashed into this realm. It was only the beginning for all of them, especially for Hardhead who was assigned the task of serving as their guardian for lack of a better word. Drag was pleased with this revelation as the green warrior was a logical choice for such a role being that he had been a part of war for so long. The Fallen was like their General while Hardhead was a stout battlefield commander. Of course, their army was quite small in comparison to what they would eventually face, but that mattered little as their power was far greater. Plus, once Unicron arrived, nothing would be able to stop their advance across the cosmos.

Darkride’s subsequent demented proposal was ultimately rejected by Hardhead who thought it was better to rest up than waste more energy beating on a fellow herald. Drag Strip, however, was more than willing to take the torturer up on his offer and placed a firm hand on the cycle-former’s shoulder in order to get his attention. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind dishing out some violence on you, Darkride. I can pretend that you’re a small version of that slagger, Motormaster. I mean, if you want me to, of course.” The former Stunticon’s words brought only a stern look from Hardhead, who glared down at the yellow mech. “Or not. Heh.”

Australia – Uluru

Darkride gave the warrior a nod in understanding. Although any damage he would take would be repaired more quickly than any Cybertronian internal, or external, repair systems, there was no need to push things. They were, after all, imbued with nearly god-like powers. The thought swirled around the interrogator’s mind freely until his Master turned to face him and Hardhead. “You may possess powers that exceed a normal Cybertronian’s, but that does not mean you should wear yourself out before you are put into play.”

The interrogator hunched down low averting his optics to the ground before his Master. “Apologies, Master. I meant no harm. I simply wanted to…It will not happen again. You have my word.” The Fallen stepped forward and laid his hand gently on his Herald’s head. “You are forgiven. Rise and join your brothers.” The slim purple mech stood back up to his full height and looked into the bright, fiery optics of the blaze encased demigod. “Thank you, Master.”

The interrogator bowed humbly while back-stepping away from the possessed shell. He stopped when he felt Drag Strip’s hand press firmly onto his shoulder. He turned around to face his brother, a wide devious grin on his face as he took in what his brother had said. Such a kind sibling he was. Willing to beat the scrap out of him if only to satisfy his own depraved desire to feel pain. That smile quickly faded as he noticed Hardhead’s stern look. “Perhaps another time, brother.” Darkride said with a defeated sigh.

“The Unbinding!” The sudden announcement caught Hex and Darkride by surprise causing both to turn around and look upon their Master. The Fallen had taken up a position on the edge of the rock monument, his arms outstretched and overlooking the darkened landscape.

Hex edged closer him stopping just behind and to the right of the fire emblazoned mech. “Master?” The Fallen slowly lowered his arms and looked to the young Herald. “Soon they will know what is in store for their kind.” He reached over to Hex who in turn offered his hand. “A message. One you provided. It will guide them to their doom.” He gently guided Hex closer towards him and positioned him before the edge of the rock. “That message, once de-cyphered, will lead the Cybertronians to us.” “The seals….” The demigod smiled and looked over his shoulder at the interrogator. “Yes. Their own written prophecy…The Unbinding. They will be the ones to break the final two seals.”

He and Hex turned to face Hardhead, Drag Strip and Darkride. “You, my four Heralds will ensure that things will go as prophesized.” He looked to each one in turn. “War. Plague. Death.” He squeezed Hex’s shoulders causing the young mech to look up to his Master. “And Conquest. You are all required in order to bring about the Apocalypse. And I’ve no doubt you will all perform your roles admirably.”

Australia - Uluru

The Fallen’s bellowing proclamation of the Unbinding startled Drag Strip to the point that he jumped slightly as he turned to look up at the fiery demigod. Hardhead, on the other hand, remained calm, uttering only a mild chuckle at Drag’s expense before looking over at the possessed former cavalier. Both the war veteran and the champion racer listened as the Fallen revealed that Hex’s own message would lead the Cybertronian’s to their eventual doom. They will break the final two seals and thus the Apocalypse would begin, allowing Unicron to finally return to this realm and devour the entire galaxy.

Another revelation was then presented to the four heralds. It was their basic roles that they would play in bringing about the end of all things. Hardhead smiled, knowing that he was the very embodiment of war, itself. The veteran had always lived for battle, butting heads with his superiors on quite a number of occasions regarding how things should have been done. Now, it was his turn to show everyone how war was to be truly fought and ultimately won. The green herald had the power and the will to make it happen in the name of the Fallen Prime of legend and the Chaos Bringer they all served.

Of course, Drag Strip was elated to find out that he was the personification of Plague. He imagined laying waste to the Cybertronian race with everything from a widespread outbreak of Cosmic Rust to any number of nano viruses capable of incapacitating countless mechs on both sides of the conflict. “Wonderful, my Master! I assume that I will either have access to whatever contagions my little spark desires or perhaps I will have the power to create my own? That would be truly intoxicating. Either way, I look forward to seeing ol’ Motormaster waste away when I inflict Cosmic Rust on him. Although, maybe I’ll use an energon discharge virus instead so that I can watch him expel purple fluid through every orifice on his body as his power core empties. Heh heh. How devious.”

“Yes, very devious,” Hardhead replied coldly with his arms crossed over his chestplate. “Just remember to bring that same level of sadistic destruction to the rest of the Cybertronians once you are done with your former commander.”

“Of course, Hardhead,” Drag Strip responded quickly. “Naturally, Motormaster will be but one of countless many that I will bring pain and agony to. Between all four of us, the Cybertronians won’t know what hit them! Ha ha ha!” The former Stunticon cackled before turning towards the Fallen, an inquisitive look on his faceplate. “Master, when will our roles in the Unbinding begin? Have the initial seals already been broken or will we accomplish that ourselves?” The yellow mech stopped for a moment, knowing that he was asking too much too quickly. “My apologies, master. I know you said to rest and that revelations will come later. I’m just itching to get started, that’s all.”

“Yes, you certainly are full of questions, aren’t you?” Hardhead stated plainly as he gazed down at his fellow herald.

“How will I learn if I do not ask?” Drag Strip responded, casting a glance up at the warmonger.

“Indeed,” Hardhead conceded as he then looked over at the Fallen, allowing a slight smile to spread across his visage. “My lord, we may have to tranquilize this one to get him to rest. He’s just too eager to bring an end to our enemies. Although, I can’t say that I blame him. The prospect of the Apocalypse is very enticing. Heh.”