Secrets of the Groundbound Kind [Part 5]
Title: Secrets of the Groundbound Kind [Part 5]
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Edit: Added a line where a recruiter is talking to them.
Prowl lifted a hand unconsciously to Jazz’s optics, and the Ops mech immediately seized it in a trembling, but otherwise unmoving grip. Cracked optics flickered briefly, and the Porsche let go as if the pale hand burnt him.
“Sorry. Kinda jumpy here.”
“Do your optics still work?”
“… Barely. No colour, I can tell light and dark and shape, but otherwise I need my visor.”
“Can’t they be fixed?”
“The medic I went to told me no. I never dared ask again. Happened at the start of the war, and having red optics then weren’t exactly… y’know. Now… Been hiding them so long, Ratch’s gonna kill me if he finds out what I did to keep him from realising they still work a little. Besides, if someone takes my visor, I can keep them off and look blind without it. S’an advantage I wasn’t gonna give up. I swear I’m an Autobot, Prowl. My optics don’t mean anything.”
“Jazz, if you were a double agent for the Decepticons, you broke cover far too easily for your skill level.”
“Maybe I was startled and ran my vocaliser without thinking.” The look Prowl gave him was equal parts incredulous and disbelieving, and the Ops mech cringed in embarrassment at the pathetic answer before the Datsun spoke, tone exceedingly dry.
“Right. In which case I’d already be dead and you’d be long gone from the Ark. Or I’d be waking up rather confused as to why I’m in your quarters.”
“A memory wipe wouldn’t last too long on you. Too many loose ends, you’d pick it apart in seconds. It’d be easier to keep my cover by making you believe I’m genuine and just have unfortunate optics.”
“Then perhaps I’m stalling you until reinforcements burst through that door, weapons at the ready.”
A weak snicker issued from the Ops mech. “They haven’t gotten here yet? Ironhide’s getting slow in his old age. Guess we gotta trust each other, huh.”
“Not a big change. Jazz.” The Porsche looked up at the tactician, who slowly reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Start at the beginning. I’ll hear you out.”
Staring down at the visor he held in his hands, Jazz sighed, and then cleared his vocaliser and began to talk.
“We were young, and we thought we were invincible. The best stealth trine ever sparked, able to get in and out of anything and anywhere. The rumbles of war were just that, rumours and hearsay. We were sure that if things did explode, both sides would want us, and we could choose our path with leisure.”
= = =
“Hey! You heard about this Megatron?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“He’s got a rally going on, let’s go see before the Autobots catch wind and clear it out.”
“I’ve read his speeches. Don’t sit too well with me.”
“Gotta give him points for charisma though, Duskflight. Mech’s got a silver plated vocaliser.”
“Aw, c’mon! Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“It’s off with my common sense, agreeing that going to one of Megatron’s events is a bad idea. The mech’s got that look in his optics, like a jet with sky sickness. Sooner or later he’ll go off his bearings, and take all who fly alongside him down with him.”
“You’re just scared of change, Dusker. He’s fighting for us, don’t you see? The grounders have always been slow and lumbering, stuck in their ways. Cybertron needs mechs like him who are willing to protect it. It’s getting harder to keep fuelled, you two can’t deny that.”
“Well… but the way he wants to go about finding new energon sources…”
“What? Organics can’t develop sapience.”
“How do you know that?”
“Megatron said so. And he’s got Starscream backing him up.”
“The scientist?”
“Yeah, and Starscream’s researched organic life before.”
“Thought that was his partner, the one who…”
“They worked together, didn’t they? He’s got the experience. So?”
“… We’ll go. But don’t expect us to be convinced.”
“Once you hear him in person, you will be.”
= = =
Jazz paused, dim optics blinking off completely. Prowl watched him silently. He could have told the Porsche to replace his visor, but without the barrier between his optics and the world, Jazz was clearly off balance, and as much as the tactician wanted to make things easier for the mech, his strategic routines whispered keeping the visor off was important.
That Jazz himself had not put it on again was telling. He wondered if the Ops mech was doing it on purpose, leaving himself even the slightest bit more vulnerable to prove to Prowl that he was telling the truth. Gently, he took hold of the mech’s hands and the visor, stilling the nervous fiddling that he was sure would break the thin construct.
Acting on a hunch, the Datsun hummed a subsonic note, and Jazz’s intakes seized, then calmed as the Ops mech chuckled. “You’re from Praxus. Right, where are my processors?”
“It’s understandable. Many of our crew don’t recall the significance any more. And with the city… gone, it’s unlikely that anyone will ever need to.”
“… Guess not.”
“Would you continue?”
“Yeah. Give me a moment.”
A quiet cycle of air intakes, and Jazz went on with his tale. “We went to the rally, my trine and I. It was big, Megatron was fragging good at talking, and there were a lot of other seekers there. Our trinemate dragged us over to one of the recruiters once his speech ended.”
= = =
“So, these are the mechs I’ve been hearing so much about from your trinemate. Have you come to join our cause and save Cybertron from itself? Having you amongst our number would aid us greatly.”
“Yes si-”
“Actually, we haven’t made our decision.”
“We heard the speech, but we’re not convinced, not just yet.”
“What will it take for you two to believe?! Megatron has the right of it, Cybertron is dying. This is the only way!”
“To reach out and take what isn’t ours? To drain other planets without care for their inhabitants?”
“What should we care for simple organics? They barely have the processing power to replicate!”
“Enough, I see your trinemates will not be swayed. Admirable, but a pity.”
“Sir?”
“You oppose Megatron. We cannot have that.”
“Wait! They haven’t said they’re going to the Autobots!”
“They are adamant about not joining us, and whoever is not for us is against us. Since we have them here in our grasp, it would be simply expedient to remove them from the equation.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Oh, I assure you, I am.”
“Sir, please, let me try to convince them.”
“You have tried. They will not be moved. Will you?”
“Frag no. Even if you kill us, we’ll never join you!”
“You see? Time to make a choice, seeker. Die with your trinemates, or abandon them for a greater, nobler cause.”
“I…”
"Remember, they've already abandoned you."
= = =
“We felt the trine bond snap. It stunned us, didn’t expect our wingmate to actually… Then there was no time to think. The recruiter shot at Duskflight and I shoved my trinemate out of the way. Fragger didn’t like that, and he took it out on me. Cracked me across the optics, shot me, then shot Dusk again. Dunno how, but Dusk managed to get us away.
"We were running scared then, and our only thought was to escape. Got to a medic friend, he’s offline now, probably, who patched us up, and for a while we lay low, changed paintjobs, faked names and then ran to Polyhex where red optics helped us blend in.
“We found someone who agreed to reformat us in exchange for our flight capable systems. We took it, though the frames were shoddy work, and new optics were frag all out of our reach, so I just dealt with it, learnt to use my other sensors to get around. I tripped a lot.
“Getting grounded wasn’t fun, the new frames felt wrong; I don’t know how your lot do it. Some days I still online feeling wrong, and I was the more adaptable of the two of us. Dusk, he held it together for a while, occupied himself with all the hiding and sneaking around we had to do.
“There’s always work for mechs with our skills, nothing noble, or strictly legal, but a mech with nothing in his fueltanks can’t be too choosy. We scraped by, made enough credits to get my first visor, learnt enough tech to start making my own, learnt a lot about living on the streets. Have to say, it certainly helped me get where I am now. Suppose I could've gotten my optics replaced eventually, but I wanted to keep them. To remind me. Then one orn…”
Jazz broke off, and Prowl repeated the calming note. Hesitantly, the Porsche chirred back, and the tactician was struck by how much the mellow quality of Jazz’s voice could be attributed to the musical inflections of the seeker dialect. He said as much, and the Ops mech smiled.
“Yeah, couldn’t hide everything. S’why I like tunes so much. Reminds me of… then.”
Prowl gave his hands a light squeeze, and the other black and white sighed. “Our trinema-… former trinemate found us. Dusk… he told me he couldn’t stand it any more, that he’d rather die than have to look at the sky and know he couldn’t to return to it. And I wouldn’t leave him to face the fragger alone, not when he’d gotten a new trine.
“We were ripped to pieces, and had been left for dead when the Autobots found us. Too late for Dusk, but not for me. I woke up in a makeshift med bay with no trinemates, nothing to me but my false name and my skills. So when the Autobots asked if I’d like to join them, I said yes. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
The Porsche fell silent once more, exhaustion evident in his posture. Prowl guessed that not all of the mech’s weariness could be attributed to his injuries and long explanation, and nudged Jazz until he was at least leaning against the head of his berth.
“… Who was your third?”
The Ops mech turned away. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have-”
“Skywarp.” The cracked optics lit up again, and Jazz’s mouth firmed into a grim line. “The fragger who turned on his own trine was Skywarp.”
Edit:
Because I wanted to try out the QotD thing and didn't want to make a new entry just for it.
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
Edit: Added a line where a recruiter is talking to them.
Prowl lifted a hand unconsciously to Jazz’s optics, and the Ops mech immediately seized it in a trembling, but otherwise unmoving grip. Cracked optics flickered briefly, and the Porsche let go as if the pale hand burnt him.
“Sorry. Kinda jumpy here.”
“Do your optics still work?”
“… Barely. No colour, I can tell light and dark and shape, but otherwise I need my visor.”
“Can’t they be fixed?”
“The medic I went to told me no. I never dared ask again. Happened at the start of the war, and having red optics then weren’t exactly… y’know. Now… Been hiding them so long, Ratch’s gonna kill me if he finds out what I did to keep him from realising they still work a little. Besides, if someone takes my visor, I can keep them off and look blind without it. S’an advantage I wasn’t gonna give up. I swear I’m an Autobot, Prowl. My optics don’t mean anything.”
“Jazz, if you were a double agent for the Decepticons, you broke cover far too easily for your skill level.”
“Maybe I was startled and ran my vocaliser without thinking.” The look Prowl gave him was equal parts incredulous and disbelieving, and the Ops mech cringed in embarrassment at the pathetic answer before the Datsun spoke, tone exceedingly dry.
“Right. In which case I’d already be dead and you’d be long gone from the Ark. Or I’d be waking up rather confused as to why I’m in your quarters.”
“A memory wipe wouldn’t last too long on you. Too many loose ends, you’d pick it apart in seconds. It’d be easier to keep my cover by making you believe I’m genuine and just have unfortunate optics.”
“Then perhaps I’m stalling you until reinforcements burst through that door, weapons at the ready.”
A weak snicker issued from the Ops mech. “They haven’t gotten here yet? Ironhide’s getting slow in his old age. Guess we gotta trust each other, huh.”
“Not a big change. Jazz.” The Porsche looked up at the tactician, who slowly reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Start at the beginning. I’ll hear you out.”
Staring down at the visor he held in his hands, Jazz sighed, and then cleared his vocaliser and began to talk.
“We were young, and we thought we were invincible. The best stealth trine ever sparked, able to get in and out of anything and anywhere. The rumbles of war were just that, rumours and hearsay. We were sure that if things did explode, both sides would want us, and we could choose our path with leisure.”
= = =
“Hey! You heard about this Megatron?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“He’s got a rally going on, let’s go see before the Autobots catch wind and clear it out.”
“I’ve read his speeches. Don’t sit too well with me.”
“Gotta give him points for charisma though, Duskflight. Mech’s got a silver plated vocaliser.”
“Aw, c’mon! Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“It’s off with my common sense, agreeing that going to one of Megatron’s events is a bad idea. The mech’s got that look in his optics, like a jet with sky sickness. Sooner or later he’ll go off his bearings, and take all who fly alongside him down with him.”
“You’re just scared of change, Dusker. He’s fighting for us, don’t you see? The grounders have always been slow and lumbering, stuck in their ways. Cybertron needs mechs like him who are willing to protect it. It’s getting harder to keep fuelled, you two can’t deny that.”
“Well… but the way he wants to go about finding new energon sources…”
“What? Organics can’t develop sapience.”
“How do you know that?”
“Megatron said so. And he’s got Starscream backing him up.”
“The scientist?”
“Yeah, and Starscream’s researched organic life before.”
“Thought that was his partner, the one who…”
“They worked together, didn’t they? He’s got the experience. So?”
“… We’ll go. But don’t expect us to be convinced.”
“Once you hear him in person, you will be.”
= = =
Jazz paused, dim optics blinking off completely. Prowl watched him silently. He could have told the Porsche to replace his visor, but without the barrier between his optics and the world, Jazz was clearly off balance, and as much as the tactician wanted to make things easier for the mech, his strategic routines whispered keeping the visor off was important.
That Jazz himself had not put it on again was telling. He wondered if the Ops mech was doing it on purpose, leaving himself even the slightest bit more vulnerable to prove to Prowl that he was telling the truth. Gently, he took hold of the mech’s hands and the visor, stilling the nervous fiddling that he was sure would break the thin construct.
Acting on a hunch, the Datsun hummed a subsonic note, and Jazz’s intakes seized, then calmed as the Ops mech chuckled. “You’re from Praxus. Right, where are my processors?”
“It’s understandable. Many of our crew don’t recall the significance any more. And with the city… gone, it’s unlikely that anyone will ever need to.”
“… Guess not.”
“Would you continue?”
“Yeah. Give me a moment.”
A quiet cycle of air intakes, and Jazz went on with his tale. “We went to the rally, my trine and I. It was big, Megatron was fragging good at talking, and there were a lot of other seekers there. Our trinemate dragged us over to one of the recruiters once his speech ended.”
= = =
“So, these are the mechs I’ve been hearing so much about from your trinemate. Have you come to join our cause and save Cybertron from itself? Having you amongst our number would aid us greatly.”
“Yes si-”
“Actually, we haven’t made our decision.”
“We heard the speech, but we’re not convinced, not just yet.”
“What will it take for you two to believe?! Megatron has the right of it, Cybertron is dying. This is the only way!”
“To reach out and take what isn’t ours? To drain other planets without care for their inhabitants?”
“What should we care for simple organics? They barely have the processing power to replicate!”
“Enough, I see your trinemates will not be swayed. Admirable, but a pity.”
“Sir?”
“You oppose Megatron. We cannot have that.”
“Wait! They haven’t said they’re going to the Autobots!”
“They are adamant about not joining us, and whoever is not for us is against us. Since we have them here in our grasp, it would be simply expedient to remove them from the equation.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Oh, I assure you, I am.”
“Sir, please, let me try to convince them.”
“You have tried. They will not be moved. Will you?”
“Frag no. Even if you kill us, we’ll never join you!”
“You see? Time to make a choice, seeker. Die with your trinemates, or abandon them for a greater, nobler cause.”
“I…”
"Remember, they've already abandoned you."
= = =
“We felt the trine bond snap. It stunned us, didn’t expect our wingmate to actually… Then there was no time to think. The recruiter shot at Duskflight and I shoved my trinemate out of the way. Fragger didn’t like that, and he took it out on me. Cracked me across the optics, shot me, then shot Dusk again. Dunno how, but Dusk managed to get us away.
"We were running scared then, and our only thought was to escape. Got to a medic friend, he’s offline now, probably, who patched us up, and for a while we lay low, changed paintjobs, faked names and then ran to Polyhex where red optics helped us blend in.
“We found someone who agreed to reformat us in exchange for our flight capable systems. We took it, though the frames were shoddy work, and new optics were frag all out of our reach, so I just dealt with it, learnt to use my other sensors to get around. I tripped a lot.
“Getting grounded wasn’t fun, the new frames felt wrong; I don’t know how your lot do it. Some days I still online feeling wrong, and I was the more adaptable of the two of us. Dusk, he held it together for a while, occupied himself with all the hiding and sneaking around we had to do.
“There’s always work for mechs with our skills, nothing noble, or strictly legal, but a mech with nothing in his fueltanks can’t be too choosy. We scraped by, made enough credits to get my first visor, learnt enough tech to start making my own, learnt a lot about living on the streets. Have to say, it certainly helped me get where I am now. Suppose I could've gotten my optics replaced eventually, but I wanted to keep them. To remind me. Then one orn…”
Jazz broke off, and Prowl repeated the calming note. Hesitantly, the Porsche chirred back, and the tactician was struck by how much the mellow quality of Jazz’s voice could be attributed to the musical inflections of the seeker dialect. He said as much, and the Ops mech smiled.
“Yeah, couldn’t hide everything. S’why I like tunes so much. Reminds me of… then.”
Prowl gave his hands a light squeeze, and the other black and white sighed. “Our trinema-… former trinemate found us. Dusk… he told me he couldn’t stand it any more, that he’d rather die than have to look at the sky and know he couldn’t to return to it. And I wouldn’t leave him to face the fragger alone, not when he’d gotten a new trine.
“We were ripped to pieces, and had been left for dead when the Autobots found us. Too late for Dusk, but not for me. I woke up in a makeshift med bay with no trinemates, nothing to me but my false name and my skills. So when the Autobots asked if I’d like to join them, I said yes. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
The Porsche fell silent once more, exhaustion evident in his posture. Prowl guessed that not all of the mech’s weariness could be attributed to his injuries and long explanation, and nudged Jazz until he was at least leaning against the head of his berth.
“… Who was your third?”
The Ops mech turned away. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have-”
“Skywarp.” The cracked optics lit up again, and Jazz’s mouth firmed into a grim line. “The fragger who turned on his own trine was Skywarp.”
Edit:
Because I wanted to try out the QotD thing and didn't want to make a new entry just for it.