Part Twenty-Seven

"Blades! Blades, where are you?" Hot Spot searched the skies for his temperamental brother in vain. In the back of his mind, he grew concerned when he saw nothing. What if something had happened to him? However, his more professional side won over and he just continued searching, keeping his cool on the field. Prime had given him the order to gather the other Protectobots and merge into Defensor. This battle just could not be won any other way.

Opening his comm. channel, Hot Spot tried again. "Blades, this is Hot Spot, please respond. Where are you?"

"Look up," was the reply. Just as the Protectobot looked skywards, he could make out the sight of a swiftly fleeing helicopter followed by Dirge and Ramjet, both of whom were looking like they were enjoying this too much. Had they wanted too, both jets could have blown Blades out of the sky without any sort of effort at all.

If the Protectobot flier didn't ask for trouble every cycle of his life, Hot Spot might even feel sorry for him. "Blades, stop playing around and get down here. Optimus Prime has ordered us to form Defensor."

"Playing? Who's playing! I need these two goons off my tail or I won't be forming nothing!"

"Did you radio the Aerialbots? Your pursuers are out of my range." Primus, he was his brother, not his creator…

"Yeah. Miserable slaggers just laughed at me. You know, Hot Spot, you should really use some of that fragging authority of yours and make them…"

"Perhaps if you didn't insult them all the time, they would be quicker to help you." The light blue mech sighed. Of all his brothers, the most troublesome one had to be gifted with flight, didn't he? Why not keep him on the ground where he might be kept under some semblance of control?

"Well perhaps if they weren't such fragging fly-boy hot heads, they might come down from their pedestals to help an Autobot in need." Blades made another sharp corner, hoping to get some distance between him and the two Decepticons. Not very impressed, Dirge did a lazy U-turn and Ramjet went into a series of barrel-rolls before exacting a tight hairpin.

"Just… keep yourself from getting blown out of the sky. I'll talk to Silverbolt and get you down. We need to merge as quickly as possible."

There was a groan over the commlink as the red and white 'copter responded. "Well take your time, Spot. No rush here. It's not like I'm being attacked by two fragging jets or anything!!"

Honestly, he could get so dramatic at times…

Mentally sighing, the young commander radioed his colleague. "Silverbolt, do you think you could send some of your bots to help Blades down? He has two Decepticons on his tail, and I need him down here to merge."

"Will do," his fellow commander answered dutifully. "But Hot Spot?"


"I don't suppose you could tell your brother that in the future he should avoid taunting the only other fliers in the unit?"

Sigh. "Believe me, I plan to. Thanks again, we owe you one."

"Not a problem. Silverbolt out." Well, that was one crisis avoided. Now onto the other three. Hopefully they would be easier to obtain as they were all much lower-maintenance than Blades.

"First Aid, respond. I need you in the field; the order is to form Defensor."

"I'm busy," was the swift, curt reply. Oh perfect, he was choosing this moment to be difficult as well!

"Well I'm sorry, 'Aid, but this can't exactly wait."

"They need a medic."

"And we need our left arm. I'm sure it's nothing that Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor can't handle. Come on, 'Aid."

With a sigh, First Aid replied, "I'm afraid you'll have to tell Prime we are unable to. Streetwise is currently wounded anyway, and I'm sure you wouldn't have him fight injured."

There was a pause, then… "Depends, how bad is it?"

"Hot Spot!" His gentle brother was absolutely scandalized which would have been much more amusing if they weren't currently under heavy fire.

There was a chuckle in the comms as a new voice piped in. "It's alright, 'Spot. I just have a twisted ankle, we'll be there in a nanoclick."

"Oh no we will not! Streetwise, you need to…" Hot Spot sighed and shut off his commlink in an attempt to find his fourth and final brother.

"Groove, this is Hot Spot, don't argue, just meet up with me, alright? We need to form Defensor."

"Aw, man, you're cramping my style, man! I got the vibes from this place and it's making me, like, relax, man. Put down that bang-stick for a cycle and just enjoy the currents! Ain't no reason to add to the cycle, y'know what I mean? It's the cycle, man! It's killing the currents! Defeat the cycle, bro, and lose yourself in the currents of us!"

There was complete and utter silence for a moment. "Groove, what in the name of Primus did you just say?" Sometimes he honestly did not understand what went on in that flighty processor of Groove's. Didn't he have a normal sibling who would just do as they were told? Maybe Wheeljack could be persuaded to give him a sister? Or four?

The motorcycle 'bot just sighed into the comm. "Nevermind, man."

Hot Spot paused a moment. "So… does that mean you're coming?"

"But bro! The cycle! It…"

Before he could listen to another tirade about cycles or currents or waves or whatever, the blue mech shut off his communicator. Perhaps Defensor wasn't needed so badly after all.

Murphy's Law of Warfare: Things that have to be together to work usually can't be shipped together.