by Necessary Evil » Wed Mar 10, 2010 11:04 pm
- Motto: "Always looking for a new motto."
- Weapon: Chomping Rotor Blades
Not a problem, Dev.
Name: Hot Spot
Allegiance: Autobot
Subgroup: Protectobots
Function: Protectobot Leader
Alt. mode: (Cybertron) Rescue hovercraft, (Earth) Mitsubishi Fuso Fire Truck
Weapons: Fireball Cannon, lasers, Water Canon
Height: 33ft / 10.05m
Quote: "The hotter it is, the better I like it."
Strength: 9
Intelligence: 7
Dexterity: 7
Speed: 4
Endurance: 9
Courage: 9
Firepower: 7
Accuracy: 6
Melee: 7
Tech Skill: 7
Charisma: 8
Rank: 7
Profile: Hot Spot likes to be where the action is. Whether he's trying to put out a fire or win a war, as long as he's surrounded by a swirl of movement he's happy. He fights with a fluid instinctiveness that seemingly overrides any carefully measured analysis within his logic circuitry. His leadership is charismatic and inspiring; the other Protectobots can't help but perform beyond their abilities when in his company. However sometimes they have difficulty keeping up with his non-stop pace. His philosophy is to be maximally operational every moment of his life. Or, as he likes to phrase it, "There are always junkyards for those who rust!"
Abilities: In his fire truck mode, Hot Spot can travel at 90 mph and has a range of 600 miles. His hose line can shoot streams of high-pressure water (and other non-corrosive fluids, such as oil and alcohol) an effective distance of 1200 feet. In robot mode, he possesses incredible strength: he can press 60,000 pounds. He uses a fireball cannon, which can shoot bursts of 2000 degrees Fahrenheit blue flame a distance of 1.5 miles. A special vanadium-steel alloy shields him from temperatures of up to 5000 degrees Fahrenheit. He combines with his fellow Protectobots to form the giant robot known as Defensor.
Weaknesses: Hot Spot's ladder sometimes jams, locking into position when extended. His fireball cannon often backfires, releasing large amounts of the flammable liquid that powers it. Hot Spot himself is invulnerable to the liquid's effects, but the liquid can cause considerable fire-damage to anything around him.
Holomatter Avatar: Hot Spot's avatar physically depicts a man in his early thirties with a well-built frame; his broad shoulders in particular. He has blue eyes, blonde hair – wearing a slightly untidy brush cut – and sports light facial stubble. He wears a white firefighter work shirt, black denim jeans and black firefighter boots.
Sample Post:
By the time the Protectobots had reached the perimeters of Rypax, the Autobot combiner team collectively recoiled at the horrifically devastated visage of the once prospering city. The youthful yet promising city still stood – if barely – though totally exposed to the unceasing onslaught. Fragmented, it wreathed in bright orange flames – glowing minaciously, flickering savagely. Bearing witness to the unrelenting carnage the Decepticons had accursedly induced, no doubt, Hot Spot took a brief moment to poise himself, to allow a few nanokliks of respite for his mind before deciding on the appropriate course of action regarding their unsparing task ahead.
Overwhelmed, the Protectobots stood in silence, their sparks slowly corrupting with the same, shared emotion of raw hatred. The values and ideas the Decepticons so immorally embraced presented an antithetical view to that of Hot Spot and his comrades. The Decepticons, absorbed by the notion of galactic conquest, served a selfish and destructive purpose – by plundering worlds, rendering them desolate, and obliterating all means of life – whereas the Protectobots endeavoured to protect and preserve life at any cost necessary, no matter how significant the hostile threat. True enough, the Autobots embodied the very same virtues, but to Hot Spot, he and his team personally represented these noble qualities, altering them into an exclusive set of obligations that he and his group would always selflessly adhere to.
The assault had been an enormous one; their brief silence acknowledged that. But the time had come to act, to fulfil their obligations.
Hot Spot averted his optics from the falling city and onto his fellow Protectobots. “Alright, guys, listen up!” the assault seemed to have provoked the fire engine positively, his voice sounding amply vigorous – though, naturally, it was rather a personal constant for Hot Spot. “Blades, Streetwise, I want you two to provide support for the air and ground forces, respectively.”
“You got it, chief,” Streetwise responded briskly, a smooth pitch apparent in his vocaliser.
The fire engine cast another reluctant glance in the city's direction, his optics narrowing slightly at its fiery dispersion. From what Hot Spot could view – from his vantage point – was that the Autobots' aerial forces, surprisingly, seemed to be battling quite well, quite equally with the Decepticon Seekers up in the smoke-filled sky. The ground forces, however, weren't being afforded such respectable terms. They looked to be considerably outnumbered, and on the grim verge of defeat. And on top of that, there were those portentous flames roaring so vividly, so ferociously – appearing to be in a more threatening arrangement. They needed to be dealt with promptly, also.
Hot Spot couldn't help but feel an incredibly rapid rush of eagerness voraciously envelop him. He knew there were an abundance of urgent matters that demanded their unwavering attention; each was just as crucial as the last. Like an electrical shock, a tingling sensation surged through his bulky frame, the subsequent jolts aggravating his barely-suppressed need to mobilise into action. Hot Spot had to act. And soon.
The Protectobot leader snapped his attention back to Blades and Streetwise, regaining his impressive composure. “The ground forces have their hands full, so they're in dire need of support.” Hot Spot peered at Blades specifically. “Blades,” he said. “Slight change of plans. I want you to help Streetwise and myself in bolstering the ground forces – they really don't look like they're going to last for much longer.” The red and white Autobot's demeanour grew aflame with jubilation. “But if the aerial units appear to be in trouble, then I'll need you to get your chassis up there stat to back them up. Is that understood?”
“Now you're talking my language!” Blades replied, evidently appreciative at his leader's instructions. The rough-and-tumble Protectobot relished at the thought of close combat; it was where he viciously flourished, in his own opinion. Following his mirthful response, Blades clenched his fists – shaking mildly – and a dark, more profound tone replaced his pleased reaction. “I'm gonna tear every last one of those filthy rust buckets apart...”
“Groove,” Hot Spot began with a touch of sternness, hoping to amass the scout's relaxed heed. “Your job will be to contain these fires. Prioritise by regarding the state of the building and the severity of the blaze. Oh, and don't worry. I'll be watching your back for any 'Cons foolish enough to attack you,” Hot Spot gestured towards his formidable fireball cannon. “I'll give you a hand as soon as I can, too.”
“No problem,” the motorcycle said almost casually.
Last but certainly not least, Hot Spot shifted, and focused his influential gaze upon First Aid. “Now since we'll be handling the physical aspect of things, First Aid, I want you to recover and assist any wounded you may come across. If possible, try to locate a safe and secure location for your wounded, as it would be ideal.” He placed a reassuring hand gently on the medic's shoulder. “That way, you'll be able to work your magic uninterrupted,” the fire engine explained serenely, cajoling the compassionate Autobot with earnest honesty.
“I'll do my best, Hot Spot...” First Aid gave, his visor glistening in appreciation.
Hot Spot gave a thoughtful nod before addressing his entire team; turning his powerful frame to directly face his comrades. “Alright, crew!” the fire engine's opening words blazed ardently with invigorated zest. The four Protectobots stiffened slightly, their morale rising fervently due to their leader's elated speech. “Look sharp! There are fires to extinguish, wounded 'Bots in need of medical attention, 'Cons to kick the slag out of; the list goes on. So without any further idleness... Protectobots, transform!” The newly incarnated enthusiasm instilled by their inspiring leader was plainly evident. Their transformations were crisp, vitalised, and positioned in the general direction of Rypax. “Let's rock and roll!”