The buzzing of Hyperblast's turbines echoes an increasingly nauseating tone as he descends, transforms, and finally cuts the engines. He appears to be unaccompanied, but given the lack of Autobot fliers, that's hardly surprising. His helmet jerks upward, blue optics glowing slightly like he's looking for something. "Hmf. Just backwash. No one fast enough." He crouches, hands on his knees, now analyzing the nature of the gash he crossed. Hyperblast, on his short-range radio, transmits, "I'm alright. Some damage in landing gear. Hold back."