They had the advantage in numbers, and weaponry, and height; Jazz sauntered into the middle of the courtyard like an actor taking the stage, hid his nerves with a challenging grin and a cocked hip. "Twice in a rotation, boys? I'm flattered," he called.

"Maybe you're not as good as everyone says," Brawl jeered from a doorway four stories up. "Fell for the old weapons-cache trick like an amateur."

"Oh, did I? Huh." Jazz tracked the movements of the other Combaticons out of the sides of his visor, pretending to keep his focus on Brawl. He knew damn well Megatron had put a kill-on-sight order on his head, but the Combaticons were loose cannons enough that they might try their luck with live capture. They were gonna land their afts in spark-lockup if they weren't careful. "Welp, guess I'm outta luck." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait-"

Vortex was right behind him - he turned, slapped a handheld EMP mine right over the heliform's spark chamber, and a flash of blue and a numbing shock later he had an armload of paralyzed Vortex. He pivoted, dragging the deadweight with him - lucky you, Vortex, I'm such a good dancer I can make anyone look good - and Brawl's impulsive laserfire hit Vortex's shoulder instead of Jazz's head. Brawl swore and Jazz laughed, backstepping and turning again to dump Vortex on an unprepared Swindle.

Now the fun really began.