- Motto: "Ever-changing."
- Weapon: Black Magic
Frontier Refinery – El Dorado, Kansas
Just when Blades had discovered a rare moment in which he could enjoy himself, Groove appeared. In all honesty, he had forgotten about the scout, entirely engulfed in a fantasy that was about to be granted reality. But Groove's words invaded that fantasy, causing it to wither and experience a slow demise. Only he boasted the capabilities of being the galaxy's biggest killjoy.
“Take him into custody?” Blades swung his helm at Groove, his expression brimming with anger. “Forget that! He deserved to get his spark cut out the astrosecond he decided to become a Decepticon!”
The audacity of his team-mate! The stupidity! Blades briefly wondered if his audio receptors had acquired the correct information; it was almost too strenuous to process. But he knew all to well that his hearing hadn't beguiled him, that it hadn't misinterpreted a single letter.
“Frag this. This guy dies now.”
As Blades began advancing towards Runabout, scrunched down behind a collection of neglected vehicles, Saferoute joined the two Protectobots, brandishing her laser rifle the instant she transformed. She squandered little time with formalities, instead electing to end the Battlecharger's worthless existence. Blades had to admit that he liked this chick already, and just loved how quickly violence and aggression had seized rule over the situation. Flipping that car was a great touch.
Ceasing movement, Blades folded his arms across his chest-plate. He smiled, content with his newly modified role as a spectator. After all, it was femmes before gentlemechs.
“Hit him a few times for me, all right, Saferoute? Hard.”
* * *
Wildrider's attention had been resting on Breakdown, waiting for a response or two, but when he received Motormaster's transmission, it picked itself up and wandered off elsewhere. A lot like Wildrider, really—but only this time there was no opportunity to venture to another destination. A brilliant beam would soon materialise, plummet to the surface, and snatch up Wildrider, transporting him back to the Ultrax.
He suddenly realised he hadn't had that much fun while being at the refinery. Or luck, for that matter.
First, he was defeated by an Autobot who he had never beheld before, someone he should have destroyed in record time. And upon claiming victory in their struggle, Wildrider was saved by Runamuck. He wasn't certain who illustrated a more pathetic image: the young punk fresh out of the protoform stages or the idiot whose concern for the welfare of the Autobots equalled his own. It was a close contest.
Second, after Runamuck's marvellous rescue and unstoppable inclination to continue the fight in Wildrider's position, the Stunticon was abandoned. Just like that. There, he sat in the filthy soil, terminated if anyone were to hazard a guess. That was how awful his appearance suggest—
The beam struck him, swallowing him whole. Back to the Ultrax, he went. Back to being awarded with one of Motormaster's signature smashes to the face-plate for probably doing something foolish during their mission. Back to watching Screamer pretend to be the fearless and awe-inspiring leader, efficiently guiding the Decepticons through their most chaotic moments.
Back to normality, he supposed.