5 voices sound a clearing within the battlefield of dead Cybertronians.

"Cracked chest plate, split circuitry, cloudy optics..."

"What a waste of metal."

"Good chin, though. That's the kind of chin that silences a room."

"Look at his armature---he's K-Class. We should salute him."

"Hey, pinheads! No touchy-touchy! I haven't siphoned him yet!"

The mech the odd group was surrounding made a low noise. They all froze and looked at the bot in front of them. One of them spoke up nervously,

"He just went "uhhrrr"."

"You're sure you're not imagining it?" Asks one next to the shorter bot who just spoke. The shorter one spoke again,

"You think that's the best my imagination can come up with?"

The bot they were staring at suddenly jerked and kicked off the purpleish pink bot who'd been sitting right on him and removing a part from his insides. "GET OFF OF ME!" He then fell back against the rock he'd been propped up on weakly while the 5 bots backed away, one of them even pulling a gun on him.

The bot that'd been saying how he went "uhhrrr" yelled, "He's come back to life! It's a miracle! A MIRACLE!" The blue one next to him with a gnarly head injury says, "That's no miracle---that's some kinda freaky reanimated corpses..."

The shorter one yelled dramatically, "He's a ZOMBIE! An affront to Primus! Kill him! Kill him!" The larger bot holding the gun said, "Smile for the bullet, weird miracle zombie..."

Before they could shoot, however, the bot against the rocks held his hands up and spoke hastily. "Ah! Now! Just- just wait a second! Just- the thing about me---my big thing---is this: I'm really not keen on dying. Now survival---oh wow, huge fan, put me down for some of that. Besides, we don't even know each other! You might like me! You might find me---disarming! Yes! I'd disarm you!"

The large bot with a gun was struggling to understand, but he put his blaster away. "You'd what me?" The shorter bot spoke up warily, "Careful---he's using words to confuse and frighten us."

Now, a new bot spoke up. "Easy, guys. He's not a miracle or a zombie; he's just alive." He walked up to the bot and helped him up carefully. "Apologies. We thought you were a corpse." The bot looked at him, "You found me on my back and assumed I was dead?" "No, we assumed you were dead..." he made a gesture with his arm to the field of dead Cybertronians, "...because everybody else is."

The purpleish pink one grinned and walked up to the new bot, who was frowning. "Nice to meet you, loser! They call me Misfire. Long story. Actually, you know what? It isn't. It's a very short story involving a machine gun, a misunderstanding, and a dozen dead Decepticons."

The bot looked down at something in the purpleish bot's hands with confusion. "I'm Fulcrum. I---wait a second, is that my fuel pumo?" "What, this? Um... yeah. Can I keep it?" "Well, I kind of need it. You know, for pumping my fuel." The mechanic organ was still attached to him through a long cord. The purpleish bot smirked. "You know what, pinhead? You're alright. Just for you, I'm gonna introduce the hell outta everyone..."

As he began reinstalling the fuel pump, he spoke: "See that guy behind me with the scowl and the head wound? Don't be fooled; Crankcase is actually the most cheerful person you'll ever meet." "Really?!" "No, not really... the thing is, if he smiles, his precarious cranial architecture will collapse and he'll die. He's the only Decepticon who can be killed by a single punchline." Misfire helped Fulcrum up once he was done. He spoke with a grin, "...You're just miserable, aren't you, Crankcase?"

The bot crossed his arms and looked away. "Bah!" Fulcrum looked bewildered. "Did he just say---?" Misfire interrupted him. "I know. You've seen it written down but never heard it said out loud, right? Anyways, Spinister---" He was interrupted by a loud crash from somewhere nearby...