Advent, Day Twenty-Four

Prowl: Well, we may not be in perfect condition, but we're all functioning.

Jetfire: All the animals are reunited too. Maybe this is what Christmas is about. Just being together with the ones you care about.

Grimlock: Me, Grimlock, want know where Hound is.



Mr. Fox: He went on his own to send your Optimus Prime a distress call. I don't know why he would take so long. Unless....



Rocky: Don' t say it, mate. We're all tinkin' it. Gor, was a brave one, 'e was. You'd do well to follow 'is example, junior.

Father Deer: I'm just happy he got us through this. I'll always remember him.



Ironhide: Quit yer moanin', everybody! We don't know what's happened to Hound. He's probably going to show up any minute now. He won't want to see your long faces when he does.



Galvatron: Oh, he won't. There won't be anything of you to see at all.



Grimlock: Who is you?

Galvatron: I am Galvatron, Emissary of Unicron--Lord of Destruction!



Ironhide: That's a lot of big talk for someone in your position. If ya ask me, you look like you're outnumbered. I may be strainin' servos just to stand, but I'll still hand you your skid plate. Let's get him, 'bots!



Galvatron: I think not. I admire your attitude old-timer. Your death will be quick. DECEPTICONS! ATTACK!!!



Twenty Minutes Later...

Hound: Oh...



Hound: ...my...


Hound: ...god!



Unicron: Ha.



Unicron: Ha.



Unicron: HA!!



Hound: They're all gone; Autobots, Decepticons, Earth creatures. He destroyed them all.



Hound: I...I...I can't. There's nothing more I can do. It's impossible.



Santa: Looks that way, doesn't it?

Hound: Who are you?

Santa: Who do you think?



Hound: Santa? But you were killed.

Santa: And yet here I am. Improved, some would say.

Hound: How?

Santa: You're half way there. You already know there's nothing you can do about this, right?

Hound: Yes, but--

Santa: It sounds like you need some help.



Hound: I do, but Unicron is a god! Who could possibly help? Primus? He wouldn't lower himself to become matter. He's above intervening on my behalf.

Santa: Is he?



*crumble*

Hound: What in the Pit!? The calendar is falling!

Santa: Let's MOVE!



Hound: What is that?

Santa: You asked for help, Hound. He isn't bound by your restrictions.



Santa (voice): Primus is manifest! Now let's head for cover.



Santa (voice): This is going be ugly!