Truth in the Details (fic)
Title: Truth in the Details
Characters: Brian O'Connor (tFatF); Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Bumblebee (Transformers 2007)
Rating: R
Word Count: 3855
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, owned the rights to Transformers or the Fast and the Furious. More's the pity.
A/N: Part 4 of the Driving Crazy storyline.
Summary: Three different perspectives on the arrival of Jazz and Ratchet.
"Hey, Prowler."
"Jazz."
It was a shock to the processor to see Jazz again; so much so that he didn't even protest the nickname. Before they'd parted ways, Jazz had been his right hand, as he had been the right hand of Optimus Prime. The war had forced them to part ways before the tactician could get to know the Special Ops Officer as more than a brilliant - if eccentric (a trait shared by most Ops bots) - officer. Prowl had actually found himself missing Jazz for more than his creative tactics, and for a time followed the other mech's activities before the action in his area heated up and he lost track of the other officer.
Not long after the memory of that battle, his memories became fragmented, faulty and/or missing altogether. He'd lost millenia between his last clear memory and his first conscious action as Brian O'Connor's patrol vehicle.
That - or so he told himself - was the reason he was so surprised to see the Special Ops mech before him, still online though he showed evidence of recent severe damage. He was shocked to see someone he knew from before... not because of personal reasons.
His tactical processor told him that there was only a 1.23% chance of that assessment being accurate.
He watched the brief exchange between Jazz and the medical officer he didn't recognize, and stood quietly as the silver mech walked closer.
"It's good to see you, Prowler."
The greeting sounded heartfelt, but wrong somehow coming in the form of human words. Prowl off-lined his optics for a moment as he tried to say something, anything in their language, but even to his own audios it was garbled, and he heard Jazz blow air through his vents.
"Ah, Prowler, you're a mess."
Prowl on-lined his optics at Jazz's rueful tone, and shook his head. "You never did tell me why you call me that."
"Heh. Maybe once things get straightened out." Prowl watched the silver mech push aside a component in his arm and uncoil a slim blue cable. The sight of that cable - and the knowledge of what it was - made Prowl shudder violently. Something - Pit take his faulty processor - reacted violently to the sight of that cable with the terror of a mech facing torture at the hands of Megatron himself.
Had he been tortured? Try though he might, he couldn't find the answer.
Jazz crooned soothingly. "Easy Prowl. You know I've gotta do this. At this point, I've still got to think of you as a threat to Optimus, even though I don't want to."
Prowl nodded stiffly, optics going again to the claws that had replaced his own graceful fingers. "I know." He sent a flicker of command to one of the ports at the base of his skull, but felt no response. Was this something else that had been done to him? "I can not open a port, Jazz."
Jazz muttered a string of Cybertronian phrases that could only be curses, and pushed on Prowl's shoulder. "Turn around." He felt Jazz's fingers on his neck and ruthlessly pushed down on the impulse to attack the being messing with one of his more vulnerable access points. "Primus, Prowler, I can't believe you can still more your head. This thing is so fragged it's melted! Pits, I can't even tell if it was damaged before it melted or not. Slag." He felt Jazz's fingers probing his skull, flinching as the mech touched still-tender repairs, and then he jerked away when Jazz touched the access port at his temple. Jazz clamped a hand on his shoulder, and Prowl could feel a magnetic pulse that at once soothed his jangled processor and agitated him beyond belief as it locked his joints in place. Held in place by that strong touch, he had to stuffer through Jazz's investigation. "It's damaged, but I can get a connection. Sooner this is done, Prowler, the sooner you can see Optimus again."
"I do realize that, Jazz." Prowl growled roughly, trying to mentally prepare himself for the feel of another mind invading his, hoping to catch some of his automatic defenses before they could attack Jazz. If he could manage that, this whole ordeal would be over that much sooner.
He was completely unprepared for the reaction Jazz's invasion garnered.
~~~~~~~~~~
Brian split his attention between 'his' car and the silver one, and the ugly-mug and Bumblebee. He hadn't gotten ugly-mug's name, and figured the moniker worked for now. When Jazz started feeling around at Prowl's skull, Brian decided to go check on the two kids and the Camero. As he approached, ugly-mug tugged on something Brian couldn't see, and got a warbled exclamation in response.
"Hush, Bumblebee. You're acting like a sparkling with it's first strained servo."
Brian blinked. Strained servo, acting like a... baby? Did these things feel pain like humans did? It made sense, in a way, but it was still bizarre. The thought made him turn to look at Prowl, wondering how much pain the police interceptor was still in.
He got turned around in time to see Jazz stiffen like he'd been punched, and Prowl gone completely limp.
Jazz jerked his hand out of Prowl's shoulder, and Brian saw a broken cable hanging from his arm as the smaller silver robot tried to catch Prowl's bulkier form. Ugly-mug charged over, footsteps shaking the warehouse. He dropped to his knees at Prowl's side hard enough to make the concrete under Brian's feet buck; concerned, the blond started towards his car's side, only to be stopped by a silver hand that was nearly as tall as he was.
"You don't wanna get to close, buddy. We don't know what the 'Cons left behind."
"The what?" Brian stared up at the visored face of Jazz, and decided hew as far too close to his 'oh shit' limit to handle this stuff much longer.
"Decepticons. The bad guys. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, enslave the galaxy, squish the organics. They're called Decepticons."
"Oka~ay..." Limit reached. "I'll be over there trying to figure out how to tell the chief I lost my car."
"Shit, lil'man, we'll take care of that. It's the least we can do."
"Uh huh. Thanks?" When Jazz nodded and turned back to Prowl and the medic, Brian beat a fast retreat to a distant corner and dropped to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall. The whole situation left him completely wiped as the adrenaline finally wore off, and he closed his eyes. He'd freak later, when no-one was around. Best to wait, rest a little, and get ready to watch his police career come to a screaming end.
~~~~~~~~~~
Being nearly dead had been somewhat rough on Jazz. Not that he wasn't prepared for it - hell he'd expected to die in defense of Optimus and his ideas, but coming that close to permanently off-lining and living to tell the tale was completely unexpected.
Waking up hadn't been the only surprise waiting for him. He'd known of Prime's plan to sacrifice himself in order to thwart Megatron, and he'd fully expected to hear of Prime's death once he was fully coherent. Hearing Optimus' soothing voice had gone a long way towards making his second chance at life a lot easier to handle.
Learning that Bumblebee's little human had been the one to destroy Megatron just made Jazz wonder if he'd returned to the Matrix instead. Primus had a horrible sense of humor if that was the case. The very real pain of lingering damage told him that he was actually still among the living. He definitely owed the kid for taking Megatron off their hands. The loss of the Allspark hurt, but it was better that than lose it to Megatron.
The year that followed the battle of Mission City was a slow one. Optimus negotiated for space in the Nevada desert in which the Autobots could safely build a base/embassy. Jazz frequently served as Prime's representative when Ratchet forced the Autobot leader to rest, and he got to be quite familiar with the negotiating tactics of several of Earth's countries. About the only thing he was willing to say about the process in general was that the experience was 'fascinating and oddly informative.'
All the while, the small troupe of Autobots kept a close optic on the area around them. Scorponok and Barricade were still unaccounted for, and while Starscream had fled the planet, it was only a matter of time before he returned with reinforcements. Hopeful watch was also kept for more of their comrades, but all five knew that it might be decades before they saw another friendly face.
When Bumblebee reported spotting Barricade in Mission City, everyone was surprised; they'd all expected him to bolt for parts unknown. Though none of them really approved of the idea, Bee reported that he was going after him because of the mech's odd behavior. They all knew he had Sam and Mikaela with him, but the scout was sure of his ability to protect them and he gave chase. Jazz monitored Bee's com-line as the scout relayed what happened, and was struck by the similarity between this meeting and one of the last altercations that Bumblebee had had with Barricade. Even Ironhide, however, expressed shock when Barricade ejected - in a controlled release, according to Bee - a healthy human male in a police uniform. Focused intently on everything Bee did and didn't say, Jazz heard the undertone of confusion relayed at the lack of response from Barricade at Bee's attempted communications. The Decepticon had never once in the past failed to fire insults and threats at what he considered inferior opponents, and yet this time Barricade was silent.
Everyone, Bumblebee especially, was shocked when the yellow scout found himself quickly and expertly taken down. The shock rose to panic when Sam left cover to yell at Barricade. Jazz and Ratchet had to forcibly restrain Ironhide from racing in and making the situation worse.
And then something completely unexpected happened: the mech claimed not to know who Barricade was. Or who Bumblebee was.
Even more surprising, he expressed intense relief upon hearing that Optimus Prime was alive.
The four Autobots looked at each other in confusion, and then Jazz thought his spark would give out when the mech gave his identification. Prowl. The greatest tactician Jazz had ever known. The mech whose loss had been felt by the entire Autobot faction.
When Bumblebee requested assistance, Jazz insisted on going. Aside from Prime, he knew Prowl best, and there was no way Optimus Prime was allowed to walk into a potential trap. The others conceded after insisting that Ratchet accompany him, in the off chance that Bumblebee was injured or that it really was Prowl. That left Ironhide to protect Optimus, which suited Jazz (it kept the trigger-happy mech from shooting Barricade/Prowl before they could get answers.) Decision made, Jazz let Bee know they were coming and the two mechs raced off the base, Ratchet in the lead with his sirens blaring.
Using Ratchet's sirens as an excuse to fly down the highway, the two Autobots wove in and out of traffic as they headed to town. Only once they reached the warehouse district did Jazz swing out in front of Ratchet, where his faster reflexes would enable him to react in the event of an ambush. No matter what anyone else might think, Jazz knew Ratchet was every bit as important as Optimus. At Jazz's insistence, Ratchet killed the sirens a block from the warehouse with Bee's locator inside, and they rolled in ghost silent.
Jazz nosed inside, saw Bee against one wall with Mikaela and Sam, and the unknown mech on the other side of the building with an adult human (no mistaking that scan result). He told Ratchet to announce their presence - a squawk of the sirens did so nicely - and then rolled further in. Bumblebee transmitted his relief at the sight of Ratchet, and both Autobots transformed as the stranger mech got to his feet. After warning Jazz not to do anything unnecessarily reckless, Ratchet joined Bee and the two teenagers to take a look at the wiring damage along Bee's spine.
Jazz waved off the warning with an amused note of 'I'm not Ironhide,' and then walked over towards Barricade/Prowl and the unknown human. After a quick scan of the human for weapons - and finding only a standard-issue pistol - Jazz dismissed the human from mind for the moment and focused on the other. To his memory, Barricade had never looked that… exhausted. That alone gave Jazz hope that they really had found Prowl. He knew from Bee that the other wasn't getting Cybertronian transmissions but he had to try anyway, and swore creatively when he didn't get a response. English it was, then.
"Hey, Prowler." Prowl had always grumbled at the nickname, which was one of the main reasons Jazz kept using it.
"Jazz…" The relief in the other mech's growling voice was painful, in a way. How long had Prowl been stuck in that body, attacked by his own teammates? He wanted desperately for that to be Prowl standing there, but they'd been at war too long for him to give in to even that intense a desire.
"It's good to see you Prowler." He walked over to the mech, to within arm's reach, and then winced internally at the garbled transmission sent to him. There was something seriously wrong with the mech's processor, all right. "Ah, Prowler, you're a mess."
The mech - he just couldn't dare call him Prowl to himself yet - looked up at him. "You never did tell me why you call me that."
Ah, that he'd ask that question now He could dangle it as incentive for things to go well. "Heh. Maybe once things get straightened out." Only let this go well, and he'd tell Prowl damned near anything he wanted to hear.
He drew an interrogation cable from it's protected reel, and winced inside at the way the other mech flinched at the sight of it. Damn, but they hadn't done him any favors lately. Nobody really deserved to have someone invade their processors, but it was the only way to find things out without the risk of getting false data. Every Special Operations mech had the carefully-designed cables fitted for their use. Too often an infiltration mission required the secure download of information, or the expedient questioning of an enemy. Jazz hated it - knew most of them did - it was like rape, stealing information from someone like they were nothing more than mindless data-comps. They had to do it, though, and this time was no different. He'd be slagged if he made this any harder on the mech than he had to, though.
"Easy, Prowl. You know I've gotta do this. At this point, I've still got to think of you as a threat to Optimus, even though I don't want to."
"I know." That was so Prowl. Always short and to the point. Jazz had once wondered if he was that brusque in the berth, and then put the thought aside. It certainly wasn't the time for that sort of thought not.
"I can not open a port, Jazz."
What the Pits? "Turn around." Jazz gave him a gentle push to get him moving, and stepped up against the mech's sharply-planed back armor. He reached up to carefully investigate the neck port they'd both preferred him to use, probing with a delicate touch and subtle use of magnetic waves as well as just plain looking. What he discovered shocked him to the spark - Prowl was lucky to still be functioning! He let himself swear creatively, missing human phrasing with the Cybertronian curses he'd picked up from the twins.
"Primus, Prowler, I can't believe you can still more your head. This thing is so fragged it's melted! Pits, I can't even tell if it was damaged before it melted or not. Slag."
He cupped a hand around the mech's skull as he felt carefully along the line of damage, tracing the 'nerveways' that didn't change much from design to design. He bypassed a second port just as damaged as the first, noting how the black mech didn't even flinch when it was touched. That was bad news. He had to drop his hand from the mech's cheek to his shoulder and activate his magnetics when Prowl jerked as Jazz's fingers found the port at his temple. Those temporal ports were sensitive - and delicate. A lot of mechs had processors located at those ports that had immediate control of sight and hearing, and nobody wanted to lose those senses. Prowl jerking away from his touch at least meant the port was active, hopefully.
Active, but not in the best of shape. "It's damaged, but I can get a connection. Sooner this is done, Prowler, the sooner you can see Optimus again."
"I do realize that, Jazz."
Jazz didn't let his disgust with the procedure stop him as he plugged his securest interrogation cable into the mangled port on Prowl's temple. It didn't matter how many times he did this, it still grated on him. People's thoughts ought to be their own; he was an officer, though, and a Special Ops mech at that, which meant he had to use the equipment and skills available to him in order to acquire all of the information that his Prime might need. He'd jacked into countless Decepticons, and even many of his own comrades too injured or warped to give information freely.
Never in all his experiences with infiltrating Autobot processors had he been bothered as much as he was now.
And never in all his time removing data from behind even the strongest firewalls had he met with a reaction as strong as the one he got from Prowl's processor.
He'd gone in with force - not because he wanted to hurt Prowl, but because he expected either Barricade to want to protect himself, or some unknown Decepticon to want to keep a warped mech in line. He'd only just begun to hack past the first firewall in his way when a dozen different defensive and offensive programs unfolded around him.
He only just managed to jerk free before one of the more violent viruses he came up against could punch through his defenses. As it was, his own defenses and virus killers had to go into overdrive hunting down any virulent code that might've gotten through. It looked like the reaction was just as hard - or possibly harder - on Prowl. As Jazz jerked away the bigger black mech had jerked like he'd been electrocuted, and then he'd gone into full shutdown. Without wasting the processing power for an audio, Jazz yelled for Ratchet and grabbed Prowl, tearing his claws away from the bigger mech's shoulder to catch him around the middle and go for a controlled descent.
As Ratchet charged over, Jazz took a microsecond to check on everyone's locations. Bumblebee had wisely stayed back, and kept Sam and Mikaela with him. The cop, though, didn't know any better and Jazz spun at the waist to drop a hand between the human and Prowl's still form.
"You don't wanna get to close, buddy. We don't know what the 'Cons left behind."
"The what?" Frag. How to explain the Decepticons to a human who might not be willing to listen?
"Decepticons. The bad guys. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, enslave the galaxy, squish the organics. They're called Decepticons." He'd bet Ironhide's second best cannon that even Optimus Prime wouldn't argue with that description. Not that he'd ever say such a thing out loud. He liked his head firmly attached to his body.
"Oka~ay..." Huh. Maybe he'd said too much? The poor kid looked positively shaken. "I'll be over there trying to figure out how to tell the chief I lost my car."
Oh. Slag. He needed to call Optimus about that ASAP. Couldn't go letting an innocent catch the flak for something that was technically their fault. "Shit, lil'man, we'll take care of that. It's the least we can do."
"Uh huh. Thanks?"
Jazz nodded, and watched as the kid beat feet back to where Prowl had been sitting originally. They'd have to do something about him soon, before the poor thing let the shock get to him and he went to the news, shouting about giant shape-shifting cars or some such. They'd dealt with enough of that right after the Battle of Mission City.
::Optimus.:: The saboteur called for his leader over a secure comm line, even as he held Prowl's head still so that Ratchet could work on getting the top of his helm off.
::Go ahead, Jazz::
Jazz took a moment to answer, digging a sharp fingertip into a fused seam. ::I think it's Prowl.::
The concern in Optimus' voice was audible, even over an electronic comm line in the way it colored the transmission. ::Think, Jazz?::
::Well... yeah. Either that or Barricade is hiding something he didn't want even Megatron to get his claws on. Ratchet's trying to bring him out of an involuntary shut down. His skull is fused.::
With a curse that made Bumblebee's door-wings twitch, Ratchet freed the damaged helm from Prowl's skull after yanking hard enough for the large mech to end up on his aft. With a growl that would've sounded more at home in Ironhide's vocalizer, Ratchet got back up to kneel beside the black mech's exposed processors, and gestured Jazz in closer. Yet again, Jazz marveled at the black mech's stubbornness - anyone else would've simply ceased to function after that much damage.
Ratchet flipped a small probe out of one fingertip, and eased aside a clump of broken wires that should've gone to the disabled port Jazz had noted earlier; instead, they ended in a tangled, fused mass that had scorched several memory chips. Jazz pinned the mech's arms down as Ratchet went searching for internal insignia, knowing that it had become common practice several years into the war to provide mechs and femmes with multiple faction insignia in undisclosed locations to prevent the impersonation of officers. Prowl and Jazz both had been among the first officers to get the additional insignia.
Jazz nearly jumped out of his armor when Ratchet grabbed him. ::Look::
Jazz looked.
Had to increase the magnification in his optics to find the tiny insignia.
And pumped a fist in the air in triumph.
::He's one of ours, Optimus! Ratchet found his officer's insignia!:: Whether it was Prowl or not remained to be seen, but only officers had that insignia in that size at that exact location. It would take a complete destruction of an officer's neural computers to remove that insignia, and tampering would be just as evident.
If this wasn't Prowl, or one of the other officers they'd lost from early in the war, Jazz would willingly merge his spark with Megatron's.
Characters: Brian O'Connor (tFatF); Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Bumblebee (Transformers 2007)
Rating: R
Word Count: 3855
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, owned the rights to Transformers or the Fast and the Furious. More's the pity.
A/N: Part 4 of the Driving Crazy storyline.
Summary: Three different perspectives on the arrival of Jazz and Ratchet.
"Hey, Prowler."
"Jazz."
It was a shock to the processor to see Jazz again; so much so that he didn't even protest the nickname. Before they'd parted ways, Jazz had been his right hand, as he had been the right hand of Optimus Prime. The war had forced them to part ways before the tactician could get to know the Special Ops Officer as more than a brilliant - if eccentric (a trait shared by most Ops bots) - officer. Prowl had actually found himself missing Jazz for more than his creative tactics, and for a time followed the other mech's activities before the action in his area heated up and he lost track of the other officer.
Not long after the memory of that battle, his memories became fragmented, faulty and/or missing altogether. He'd lost millenia between his last clear memory and his first conscious action as Brian O'Connor's patrol vehicle.
That - or so he told himself - was the reason he was so surprised to see the Special Ops mech before him, still online though he showed evidence of recent severe damage. He was shocked to see someone he knew from before... not because of personal reasons.
His tactical processor told him that there was only a 1.23% chance of that assessment being accurate.
He watched the brief exchange between Jazz and the medical officer he didn't recognize, and stood quietly as the silver mech walked closer.
"It's good to see you, Prowler."
The greeting sounded heartfelt, but wrong somehow coming in the form of human words. Prowl off-lined his optics for a moment as he tried to say something, anything in their language, but even to his own audios it was garbled, and he heard Jazz blow air through his vents.
"Ah, Prowler, you're a mess."
Prowl on-lined his optics at Jazz's rueful tone, and shook his head. "You never did tell me why you call me that."
"Heh. Maybe once things get straightened out." Prowl watched the silver mech push aside a component in his arm and uncoil a slim blue cable. The sight of that cable - and the knowledge of what it was - made Prowl shudder violently. Something - Pit take his faulty processor - reacted violently to the sight of that cable with the terror of a mech facing torture at the hands of Megatron himself.
Had he been tortured? Try though he might, he couldn't find the answer.
Jazz crooned soothingly. "Easy Prowl. You know I've gotta do this. At this point, I've still got to think of you as a threat to Optimus, even though I don't want to."
Prowl nodded stiffly, optics going again to the claws that had replaced his own graceful fingers. "I know." He sent a flicker of command to one of the ports at the base of his skull, but felt no response. Was this something else that had been done to him? "I can not open a port, Jazz."
Jazz muttered a string of Cybertronian phrases that could only be curses, and pushed on Prowl's shoulder. "Turn around." He felt Jazz's fingers on his neck and ruthlessly pushed down on the impulse to attack the being messing with one of his more vulnerable access points. "Primus, Prowler, I can't believe you can still more your head. This thing is so fragged it's melted! Pits, I can't even tell if it was damaged before it melted or not. Slag." He felt Jazz's fingers probing his skull, flinching as the mech touched still-tender repairs, and then he jerked away when Jazz touched the access port at his temple. Jazz clamped a hand on his shoulder, and Prowl could feel a magnetic pulse that at once soothed his jangled processor and agitated him beyond belief as it locked his joints in place. Held in place by that strong touch, he had to stuffer through Jazz's investigation. "It's damaged, but I can get a connection. Sooner this is done, Prowler, the sooner you can see Optimus again."
"I do realize that, Jazz." Prowl growled roughly, trying to mentally prepare himself for the feel of another mind invading his, hoping to catch some of his automatic defenses before they could attack Jazz. If he could manage that, this whole ordeal would be over that much sooner.
He was completely unprepared for the reaction Jazz's invasion garnered.
~~~~~~~~~~
Brian split his attention between 'his' car and the silver one, and the ugly-mug and Bumblebee. He hadn't gotten ugly-mug's name, and figured the moniker worked for now. When Jazz started feeling around at Prowl's skull, Brian decided to go check on the two kids and the Camero. As he approached, ugly-mug tugged on something Brian couldn't see, and got a warbled exclamation in response.
"Hush, Bumblebee. You're acting like a sparkling with it's first strained servo."
Brian blinked. Strained servo, acting like a... baby? Did these things feel pain like humans did? It made sense, in a way, but it was still bizarre. The thought made him turn to look at Prowl, wondering how much pain the police interceptor was still in.
He got turned around in time to see Jazz stiffen like he'd been punched, and Prowl gone completely limp.
Jazz jerked his hand out of Prowl's shoulder, and Brian saw a broken cable hanging from his arm as the smaller silver robot tried to catch Prowl's bulkier form. Ugly-mug charged over, footsteps shaking the warehouse. He dropped to his knees at Prowl's side hard enough to make the concrete under Brian's feet buck; concerned, the blond started towards his car's side, only to be stopped by a silver hand that was nearly as tall as he was.
"You don't wanna get to close, buddy. We don't know what the 'Cons left behind."
"The what?" Brian stared up at the visored face of Jazz, and decided hew as far too close to his 'oh shit' limit to handle this stuff much longer.
"Decepticons. The bad guys. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, enslave the galaxy, squish the organics. They're called Decepticons."
"Oka~ay..." Limit reached. "I'll be over there trying to figure out how to tell the chief I lost my car."
"Shit, lil'man, we'll take care of that. It's the least we can do."
"Uh huh. Thanks?" When Jazz nodded and turned back to Prowl and the medic, Brian beat a fast retreat to a distant corner and dropped to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall. The whole situation left him completely wiped as the adrenaline finally wore off, and he closed his eyes. He'd freak later, when no-one was around. Best to wait, rest a little, and get ready to watch his police career come to a screaming end.
~~~~~~~~~~
Being nearly dead had been somewhat rough on Jazz. Not that he wasn't prepared for it - hell he'd expected to die in defense of Optimus and his ideas, but coming that close to permanently off-lining and living to tell the tale was completely unexpected.
Waking up hadn't been the only surprise waiting for him. He'd known of Prime's plan to sacrifice himself in order to thwart Megatron, and he'd fully expected to hear of Prime's death once he was fully coherent. Hearing Optimus' soothing voice had gone a long way towards making his second chance at life a lot easier to handle.
Learning that Bumblebee's little human had been the one to destroy Megatron just made Jazz wonder if he'd returned to the Matrix instead. Primus had a horrible sense of humor if that was the case. The very real pain of lingering damage told him that he was actually still among the living. He definitely owed the kid for taking Megatron off their hands. The loss of the Allspark hurt, but it was better that than lose it to Megatron.
The year that followed the battle of Mission City was a slow one. Optimus negotiated for space in the Nevada desert in which the Autobots could safely build a base/embassy. Jazz frequently served as Prime's representative when Ratchet forced the Autobot leader to rest, and he got to be quite familiar with the negotiating tactics of several of Earth's countries. About the only thing he was willing to say about the process in general was that the experience was 'fascinating and oddly informative.'
All the while, the small troupe of Autobots kept a close optic on the area around them. Scorponok and Barricade were still unaccounted for, and while Starscream had fled the planet, it was only a matter of time before he returned with reinforcements. Hopeful watch was also kept for more of their comrades, but all five knew that it might be decades before they saw another friendly face.
When Bumblebee reported spotting Barricade in Mission City, everyone was surprised; they'd all expected him to bolt for parts unknown. Though none of them really approved of the idea, Bee reported that he was going after him because of the mech's odd behavior. They all knew he had Sam and Mikaela with him, but the scout was sure of his ability to protect them and he gave chase. Jazz monitored Bee's com-line as the scout relayed what happened, and was struck by the similarity between this meeting and one of the last altercations that Bumblebee had had with Barricade. Even Ironhide, however, expressed shock when Barricade ejected - in a controlled release, according to Bee - a healthy human male in a police uniform. Focused intently on everything Bee did and didn't say, Jazz heard the undertone of confusion relayed at the lack of response from Barricade at Bee's attempted communications. The Decepticon had never once in the past failed to fire insults and threats at what he considered inferior opponents, and yet this time Barricade was silent.
Everyone, Bumblebee especially, was shocked when the yellow scout found himself quickly and expertly taken down. The shock rose to panic when Sam left cover to yell at Barricade. Jazz and Ratchet had to forcibly restrain Ironhide from racing in and making the situation worse.
And then something completely unexpected happened: the mech claimed not to know who Barricade was. Or who Bumblebee was.
Even more surprising, he expressed intense relief upon hearing that Optimus Prime was alive.
The four Autobots looked at each other in confusion, and then Jazz thought his spark would give out when the mech gave his identification. Prowl. The greatest tactician Jazz had ever known. The mech whose loss had been felt by the entire Autobot faction.
When Bumblebee requested assistance, Jazz insisted on going. Aside from Prime, he knew Prowl best, and there was no way Optimus Prime was allowed to walk into a potential trap. The others conceded after insisting that Ratchet accompany him, in the off chance that Bumblebee was injured or that it really was Prowl. That left Ironhide to protect Optimus, which suited Jazz (it kept the trigger-happy mech from shooting Barricade/Prowl before they could get answers.) Decision made, Jazz let Bee know they were coming and the two mechs raced off the base, Ratchet in the lead with his sirens blaring.
Using Ratchet's sirens as an excuse to fly down the highway, the two Autobots wove in and out of traffic as they headed to town. Only once they reached the warehouse district did Jazz swing out in front of Ratchet, where his faster reflexes would enable him to react in the event of an ambush. No matter what anyone else might think, Jazz knew Ratchet was every bit as important as Optimus. At Jazz's insistence, Ratchet killed the sirens a block from the warehouse with Bee's locator inside, and they rolled in ghost silent.
Jazz nosed inside, saw Bee against one wall with Mikaela and Sam, and the unknown mech on the other side of the building with an adult human (no mistaking that scan result). He told Ratchet to announce their presence - a squawk of the sirens did so nicely - and then rolled further in. Bumblebee transmitted his relief at the sight of Ratchet, and both Autobots transformed as the stranger mech got to his feet. After warning Jazz not to do anything unnecessarily reckless, Ratchet joined Bee and the two teenagers to take a look at the wiring damage along Bee's spine.
Jazz waved off the warning with an amused note of 'I'm not Ironhide,' and then walked over towards Barricade/Prowl and the unknown human. After a quick scan of the human for weapons - and finding only a standard-issue pistol - Jazz dismissed the human from mind for the moment and focused on the other. To his memory, Barricade had never looked that… exhausted. That alone gave Jazz hope that they really had found Prowl. He knew from Bee that the other wasn't getting Cybertronian transmissions but he had to try anyway, and swore creatively when he didn't get a response. English it was, then.
"Hey, Prowler." Prowl had always grumbled at the nickname, which was one of the main reasons Jazz kept using it.
"Jazz…" The relief in the other mech's growling voice was painful, in a way. How long had Prowl been stuck in that body, attacked by his own teammates? He wanted desperately for that to be Prowl standing there, but they'd been at war too long for him to give in to even that intense a desire.
"It's good to see you Prowler." He walked over to the mech, to within arm's reach, and then winced internally at the garbled transmission sent to him. There was something seriously wrong with the mech's processor, all right. "Ah, Prowler, you're a mess."
The mech - he just couldn't dare call him Prowl to himself yet - looked up at him. "You never did tell me why you call me that."
Ah, that he'd ask that question now He could dangle it as incentive for things to go well. "Heh. Maybe once things get straightened out." Only let this go well, and he'd tell Prowl damned near anything he wanted to hear.
He drew an interrogation cable from it's protected reel, and winced inside at the way the other mech flinched at the sight of it. Damn, but they hadn't done him any favors lately. Nobody really deserved to have someone invade their processors, but it was the only way to find things out without the risk of getting false data. Every Special Operations mech had the carefully-designed cables fitted for their use. Too often an infiltration mission required the secure download of information, or the expedient questioning of an enemy. Jazz hated it - knew most of them did - it was like rape, stealing information from someone like they were nothing more than mindless data-comps. They had to do it, though, and this time was no different. He'd be slagged if he made this any harder on the mech than he had to, though.
"Easy, Prowl. You know I've gotta do this. At this point, I've still got to think of you as a threat to Optimus, even though I don't want to."
"I know." That was so Prowl. Always short and to the point. Jazz had once wondered if he was that brusque in the berth, and then put the thought aside. It certainly wasn't the time for that sort of thought not.
"I can not open a port, Jazz."
What the Pits? "Turn around." Jazz gave him a gentle push to get him moving, and stepped up against the mech's sharply-planed back armor. He reached up to carefully investigate the neck port they'd both preferred him to use, probing with a delicate touch and subtle use of magnetic waves as well as just plain looking. What he discovered shocked him to the spark - Prowl was lucky to still be functioning! He let himself swear creatively, missing human phrasing with the Cybertronian curses he'd picked up from the twins.
"Primus, Prowler, I can't believe you can still more your head. This thing is so fragged it's melted! Pits, I can't even tell if it was damaged before it melted or not. Slag."
He cupped a hand around the mech's skull as he felt carefully along the line of damage, tracing the 'nerveways' that didn't change much from design to design. He bypassed a second port just as damaged as the first, noting how the black mech didn't even flinch when it was touched. That was bad news. He had to drop his hand from the mech's cheek to his shoulder and activate his magnetics when Prowl jerked as Jazz's fingers found the port at his temple. Those temporal ports were sensitive - and delicate. A lot of mechs had processors located at those ports that had immediate control of sight and hearing, and nobody wanted to lose those senses. Prowl jerking away from his touch at least meant the port was active, hopefully.
Active, but not in the best of shape. "It's damaged, but I can get a connection. Sooner this is done, Prowler, the sooner you can see Optimus again."
"I do realize that, Jazz."
Jazz didn't let his disgust with the procedure stop him as he plugged his securest interrogation cable into the mangled port on Prowl's temple. It didn't matter how many times he did this, it still grated on him. People's thoughts ought to be their own; he was an officer, though, and a Special Ops mech at that, which meant he had to use the equipment and skills available to him in order to acquire all of the information that his Prime might need. He'd jacked into countless Decepticons, and even many of his own comrades too injured or warped to give information freely.
Never in all his experiences with infiltrating Autobot processors had he been bothered as much as he was now.
And never in all his time removing data from behind even the strongest firewalls had he met with a reaction as strong as the one he got from Prowl's processor.
He'd gone in with force - not because he wanted to hurt Prowl, but because he expected either Barricade to want to protect himself, or some unknown Decepticon to want to keep a warped mech in line. He'd only just begun to hack past the first firewall in his way when a dozen different defensive and offensive programs unfolded around him.
He only just managed to jerk free before one of the more violent viruses he came up against could punch through his defenses. As it was, his own defenses and virus killers had to go into overdrive hunting down any virulent code that might've gotten through. It looked like the reaction was just as hard - or possibly harder - on Prowl. As Jazz jerked away the bigger black mech had jerked like he'd been electrocuted, and then he'd gone into full shutdown. Without wasting the processing power for an audio, Jazz yelled for Ratchet and grabbed Prowl, tearing his claws away from the bigger mech's shoulder to catch him around the middle and go for a controlled descent.
As Ratchet charged over, Jazz took a microsecond to check on everyone's locations. Bumblebee had wisely stayed back, and kept Sam and Mikaela with him. The cop, though, didn't know any better and Jazz spun at the waist to drop a hand between the human and Prowl's still form.
"You don't wanna get to close, buddy. We don't know what the 'Cons left behind."
"The what?" Frag. How to explain the Decepticons to a human who might not be willing to listen?
"Decepticons. The bad guys. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, enslave the galaxy, squish the organics. They're called Decepticons." He'd bet Ironhide's second best cannon that even Optimus Prime wouldn't argue with that description. Not that he'd ever say such a thing out loud. He liked his head firmly attached to his body.
"Oka~ay..." Huh. Maybe he'd said too much? The poor kid looked positively shaken. "I'll be over there trying to figure out how to tell the chief I lost my car."
Oh. Slag. He needed to call Optimus about that ASAP. Couldn't go letting an innocent catch the flak for something that was technically their fault. "Shit, lil'man, we'll take care of that. It's the least we can do."
"Uh huh. Thanks?"
Jazz nodded, and watched as the kid beat feet back to where Prowl had been sitting originally. They'd have to do something about him soon, before the poor thing let the shock get to him and he went to the news, shouting about giant shape-shifting cars or some such. They'd dealt with enough of that right after the Battle of Mission City.
::Optimus.:: The saboteur called for his leader over a secure comm line, even as he held Prowl's head still so that Ratchet could work on getting the top of his helm off.
::Go ahead, Jazz::
Jazz took a moment to answer, digging a sharp fingertip into a fused seam. ::I think it's Prowl.::
The concern in Optimus' voice was audible, even over an electronic comm line in the way it colored the transmission. ::Think, Jazz?::
::Well... yeah. Either that or Barricade is hiding something he didn't want even Megatron to get his claws on. Ratchet's trying to bring him out of an involuntary shut down. His skull is fused.::
With a curse that made Bumblebee's door-wings twitch, Ratchet freed the damaged helm from Prowl's skull after yanking hard enough for the large mech to end up on his aft. With a growl that would've sounded more at home in Ironhide's vocalizer, Ratchet got back up to kneel beside the black mech's exposed processors, and gestured Jazz in closer. Yet again, Jazz marveled at the black mech's stubbornness - anyone else would've simply ceased to function after that much damage.
Ratchet flipped a small probe out of one fingertip, and eased aside a clump of broken wires that should've gone to the disabled port Jazz had noted earlier; instead, they ended in a tangled, fused mass that had scorched several memory chips. Jazz pinned the mech's arms down as Ratchet went searching for internal insignia, knowing that it had become common practice several years into the war to provide mechs and femmes with multiple faction insignia in undisclosed locations to prevent the impersonation of officers. Prowl and Jazz both had been among the first officers to get the additional insignia.
Jazz nearly jumped out of his armor when Ratchet grabbed him. ::Look::
Jazz looked.
Had to increase the magnification in his optics to find the tiny insignia.
And pumped a fist in the air in triumph.
::He's one of ours, Optimus! Ratchet found his officer's insignia!:: Whether it was Prowl or not remained to be seen, but only officers had that insignia in that size at that exact location. It would take a complete destruction of an officer's neural computers to remove that insignia, and tampering would be just as evident.
If this wasn't Prowl, or one of the other officers they'd lost from early in the war, Jazz would willingly merge his spark with Megatron's.