The Pools
Headline Fics Legal reporting for duty after a long hiatus. Something about "work" and "real world" and other stuff like that. I don't get it.
Original character Headline created by newsy891. Proscenium's hole-in-the-wall oil house is named after the original character of the talented Aussie dragontail. Quartz is the original character of the talented Welshman Drivaaar. Song lyrics from "Hometown Glory," by the amazingly talented totally deserving Grammy it-girl Adele. Headline Fics likes her just a bit.
All other characters appearing in this story, as well as Transformers itself, property of Hasbro and used for non-profitable entertainment purposes only.
The Pools
The scene played out in front of me in total silence; whether the three mechs were actually silent, or speaking but inaudible, I could not tell at the respectful distance I held. Bumblebee, Jazz and Hound stood side-by-side, facing the Energon Pools. Hound turned his optics toward the stars, and the other two followed his lead. While Jazz and Bumblebee remained focused intently on one of the countless small points of light in space, Hound looked downward at something in his hand.
A mournful, musical sound emanated from Jazz’ speakers, and I slowly crept closer until I could just discern the words within it. A female vocalist, with an accent similar to but stronger than the one that graced Quartz’ voice, sang over a driving piano theme. “I ain’t lost, just wandering… ‘round my home town, memories are fresh…” Jazz turned his head slightly in my direction. Before he could be more distracted by the presence of an outsider, I slipped back to my original position and listened to the song, no longer able to interpret the lyrics.
Bumblebee walked slowly in my direction after the last sustained note of the music faded. The other two mechs lingered by the pools, Hound still staring at the item in his hand. I focused my optics and magnified until I could see what it was: the handful of dust and grass - once green, now a uniform light brown - he had taken with him from his beloved Earth. The memento confirmed what I had inferred from the sorrow in Bumblebee’s optics: this must have been a memorial of sorts for Sparkplug Witwicky.
“Hey,” I said softly, extending my arms toward Bumblebee. The smaller mech, for the moment not a High Councilor but simply a friend in mourning, crumpled against my frame and welcomed my arms around his shoulders.
“I wish I could’ve said goodbye,” he said, his voice muffled.
“I know you do, ‘Bee,” I whispered, squeezing him tightly before I let him go.
Hound lowered himself to his knees and gazed at a spot on the wall containing the pools. I cautiously approached him and read the name over which Hound slowly ran his fingers: Cliffjumper. Jazz, still standing nearby, looked somberly at the same spot. “Take care o’ Sparkplug for us, lil’ wingnut,” he said, and Hound nodded in agreement.
I knelt at Hound’s side and watched him sprinkle a few blades of grass into the Energon Pools. He must have known the organic matter would be disintegrated in the pools’ filters soon, but the gesture underscored his sentiment that the family of humans were also part of the Autobot family. “Till all are one, Sparkplug,” Hound said. I joined Jazz in helping him to his feet.
“Till all are one,” Jazz repeated.
“Hound, I…” I began to say, but I failed to find any words of encouragement that would be helpful to the Earth-loving mech.
“I wish I could go back, just for a few kliks,” Hound sighed. “Y’know, just to see the place and… see them. I talk to Spike often enough, but…” He turned to face me. “Don’t you miss it?”
I remembered the planet where I had looked after and collaborated with Live Shot, where I had fallen in love with Sunstreaker and grown close to Quartz and Bandit and Woelffen, where so many of my friends had fallen. “Maybe a little,” I admitted.
Hound smiled, though a haunting look of grief remained in his optics. “Thanks, Headline,” he said, briefly gripping my shoulders. “How about you join us for a drink or five?”
I smiled in return. “Be there in a couple breems.”
“Me too, Hound-dog,” Jazz called as Hound transformed and drove in the direction of our familiar haunt, Proscenium’s. With a casual wave of his hand, Jazz invited me to join him in sitting on the wall of the Energon Pools.
“I’m glad they told you,” I said. “I mean… I wish you didn’t have to hear it, but… they need you, Jazz.”
“Heh… no pressure, though,” Jazz said ruefully.
“They do. Everyone does.”
Jazz deflected my words and changed the subject. “I hear there’s gonna be a bonding…”
I smiled brightly at the thought of officially becoming Sunny’s mate. “Word sure travels fast.”
“Suns is a lucky mech,” Jazz said. “And you’re… well, Suns is a lucky mech.” I laughed out loud and dealt Jazz a friendly elbow to the chestplate. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked.
“What plan?”
“Where, when…”
“Well, when is as soon as we get everything else figured out,” I said, beginning a nervous pace back and forth in front of Jazz. “We were sort of thinking here, though. The Council chamber really isn’t us… and this is the only other place we could think of where we’d sort of have Sides there.”
“Wonder what he’d think of his brother gettin’ bonded,” Jazz said with a quiet chuckle, matching my pacing stride for stride.
I slowed a bit. “He’d tell us to get a room, that’s what.” Jazz smiled in recognition. “I don’t know, Jazz… maybe we’ll have to use the Council chamber after all. I mean, if this is a place for memorials, it’s not exactly a place to have a bonding, is it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a perfect place,” Jazz said, perching almost jauntily on the wall of the pools. “Lots of places on Earth had both - the Ark woulda had both, if you crazy kids had moved a little faster.”
“Stop it.” I sat down next to Jazz, finding my hand resting naturally at the spot on the wall engraved with Sideswipe’s name. “Really, though?”
“Really. Have it here, you’re honoring a lot more memories than just Sides’, y’know.” Jazz looked over my shoulder into the gracefully flowing liquid energon. “This place is about remembering everyone we’ve ever lost. Bonding’s all about the future - kinda brings it all together, havin’ one at a place that’s all about the past.”
I smiled wistfully. “You almost sound like Kup.”
“Not a surprise,” Jazz said. “Been around since he was barely off the line.”
I tilted my head slightly and looked quizzically at Jazz. This unrelenting bundle of exuberance, this bold and brash lover of all things involving a bass and a backbeat, nearly as old as Kup?
My silence must have lasted longer than it felt. “Well,” Jazz remarked, “that’s a conversation stopper.”
I posed the only question that came immediately to mind. “So does that mean you have war stories like Uncle Kup’s?”
Jazz shook his head. “Always left the storytellin’ to him, I guess.”
“But you know the stories,” I said. “Maybe not all the weird alien things Kup ran into, but all the stories on Cybertron - the start of the war, the fall of Sentinel…”
“That’s a fair cop, lady femme,” Jazz replied with a nod. “Kup an’ I were advisers to Sentinel. Ratch, too. And Prowler.” His voice grew quieter with the mention of each name. “And ‘Hide was Sentinel’s bodyguard long before Optimus was Optimus… you shoulda seen them all back then, fresh oil. Trails at his best… Elita with every bit of the speed she was built for.”
I thought of the mechs and femme whose names Jazz spoke with such respect and affection. Together, they had represented much of the inner circles for two Primes - in Kup’s case, three - and Jazz now stood as one of the last survivors, if not the last survivor, of those inner circles. Kup had honored his fallen friends by telling his stories and theirs, gifting his memories to the younger generations of mechs and femmes in the hope that they would follow in the tracks of Sentinel’s trusted officers. Jazz, it seemed, had chosen another path: honoring his friends by remaining as youthful and strong as they had been at their peak, and in so doing, keeping them real and relevant and alive.
Jazz reached behind him and stirred the energon with one finger. The ripples spread, disturbing his reflection and mine and creating small waves that splashed backward when the liquid reached the wall. For a klik, the ever-present buoyant enthusiasm left his face, and he wore a troubled expression, as though it was uncomfortable to recall the brothers-in-arms he had outlived and to be revealed as the repository of Cybertronian history that he was.
I smiled at him, just a little sadly. “Maybe I should call you Uncle Jazzy.”
Jazz turned to face me, and the cheerfulness crept back into his visored optics. “Nah.” He splashed a little of the energon onto my arm. “Now, one thing you’re gonna need for your bonding, Miss Headline - a good loud party. Let’s talk playlist…”
The End
Next: New factions and new enemies emerge with deadly results in "Third Party."
Original character Headline created by newsy891. Proscenium's hole-in-the-wall oil house is named after the original character of the talented Aussie dragontail. Quartz is the original character of the talented Welshman Drivaaar. Song lyrics from "Hometown Glory," by the amazingly talented totally deserving Grammy it-girl Adele. Headline Fics likes her just a bit.
All other characters appearing in this story, as well as Transformers itself, property of Hasbro and used for non-profitable entertainment purposes only.
The Pools
The scene played out in front of me in total silence; whether the three mechs were actually silent, or speaking but inaudible, I could not tell at the respectful distance I held. Bumblebee, Jazz and Hound stood side-by-side, facing the Energon Pools. Hound turned his optics toward the stars, and the other two followed his lead. While Jazz and Bumblebee remained focused intently on one of the countless small points of light in space, Hound looked downward at something in his hand.
A mournful, musical sound emanated from Jazz’ speakers, and I slowly crept closer until I could just discern the words within it. A female vocalist, with an accent similar to but stronger than the one that graced Quartz’ voice, sang over a driving piano theme. “I ain’t lost, just wandering… ‘round my home town, memories are fresh…” Jazz turned his head slightly in my direction. Before he could be more distracted by the presence of an outsider, I slipped back to my original position and listened to the song, no longer able to interpret the lyrics.
Bumblebee walked slowly in my direction after the last sustained note of the music faded. The other two mechs lingered by the pools, Hound still staring at the item in his hand. I focused my optics and magnified until I could see what it was: the handful of dust and grass - once green, now a uniform light brown - he had taken with him from his beloved Earth. The memento confirmed what I had inferred from the sorrow in Bumblebee’s optics: this must have been a memorial of sorts for Sparkplug Witwicky.
“Hey,” I said softly, extending my arms toward Bumblebee. The smaller mech, for the moment not a High Councilor but simply a friend in mourning, crumpled against my frame and welcomed my arms around his shoulders.
“I wish I could’ve said goodbye,” he said, his voice muffled.
“I know you do, ‘Bee,” I whispered, squeezing him tightly before I let him go.
Hound lowered himself to his knees and gazed at a spot on the wall containing the pools. I cautiously approached him and read the name over which Hound slowly ran his fingers: Cliffjumper. Jazz, still standing nearby, looked somberly at the same spot. “Take care o’ Sparkplug for us, lil’ wingnut,” he said, and Hound nodded in agreement.
I knelt at Hound’s side and watched him sprinkle a few blades of grass into the Energon Pools. He must have known the organic matter would be disintegrated in the pools’ filters soon, but the gesture underscored his sentiment that the family of humans were also part of the Autobot family. “Till all are one, Sparkplug,” Hound said. I joined Jazz in helping him to his feet.
“Till all are one,” Jazz repeated.
“Hound, I…” I began to say, but I failed to find any words of encouragement that would be helpful to the Earth-loving mech.
“I wish I could go back, just for a few kliks,” Hound sighed. “Y’know, just to see the place and… see them. I talk to Spike often enough, but…” He turned to face me. “Don’t you miss it?”
I remembered the planet where I had looked after and collaborated with Live Shot, where I had fallen in love with Sunstreaker and grown close to Quartz and Bandit and Woelffen, where so many of my friends had fallen. “Maybe a little,” I admitted.
Hound smiled, though a haunting look of grief remained in his optics. “Thanks, Headline,” he said, briefly gripping my shoulders. “How about you join us for a drink or five?”
I smiled in return. “Be there in a couple breems.”
“Me too, Hound-dog,” Jazz called as Hound transformed and drove in the direction of our familiar haunt, Proscenium’s. With a casual wave of his hand, Jazz invited me to join him in sitting on the wall of the Energon Pools.
“I’m glad they told you,” I said. “I mean… I wish you didn’t have to hear it, but… they need you, Jazz.”
“Heh… no pressure, though,” Jazz said ruefully.
“They do. Everyone does.”
Jazz deflected my words and changed the subject. “I hear there’s gonna be a bonding…”
I smiled brightly at the thought of officially becoming Sunny’s mate. “Word sure travels fast.”
“Suns is a lucky mech,” Jazz said. “And you’re… well, Suns is a lucky mech.” I laughed out loud and dealt Jazz a friendly elbow to the chestplate. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked.
“What plan?”
“Where, when…”
“Well, when is as soon as we get everything else figured out,” I said, beginning a nervous pace back and forth in front of Jazz. “We were sort of thinking here, though. The Council chamber really isn’t us… and this is the only other place we could think of where we’d sort of have Sides there.”
“Wonder what he’d think of his brother gettin’ bonded,” Jazz said with a quiet chuckle, matching my pacing stride for stride.
I slowed a bit. “He’d tell us to get a room, that’s what.” Jazz smiled in recognition. “I don’t know, Jazz… maybe we’ll have to use the Council chamber after all. I mean, if this is a place for memorials, it’s not exactly a place to have a bonding, is it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a perfect place,” Jazz said, perching almost jauntily on the wall of the pools. “Lots of places on Earth had both - the Ark woulda had both, if you crazy kids had moved a little faster.”
“Stop it.” I sat down next to Jazz, finding my hand resting naturally at the spot on the wall engraved with Sideswipe’s name. “Really, though?”
“Really. Have it here, you’re honoring a lot more memories than just Sides’, y’know.” Jazz looked over my shoulder into the gracefully flowing liquid energon. “This place is about remembering everyone we’ve ever lost. Bonding’s all about the future - kinda brings it all together, havin’ one at a place that’s all about the past.”
I smiled wistfully. “You almost sound like Kup.”
“Not a surprise,” Jazz said. “Been around since he was barely off the line.”
I tilted my head slightly and looked quizzically at Jazz. This unrelenting bundle of exuberance, this bold and brash lover of all things involving a bass and a backbeat, nearly as old as Kup?
My silence must have lasted longer than it felt. “Well,” Jazz remarked, “that’s a conversation stopper.”
I posed the only question that came immediately to mind. “So does that mean you have war stories like Uncle Kup’s?”
Jazz shook his head. “Always left the storytellin’ to him, I guess.”
“But you know the stories,” I said. “Maybe not all the weird alien things Kup ran into, but all the stories on Cybertron - the start of the war, the fall of Sentinel…”
“That’s a fair cop, lady femme,” Jazz replied with a nod. “Kup an’ I were advisers to Sentinel. Ratch, too. And Prowler.” His voice grew quieter with the mention of each name. “And ‘Hide was Sentinel’s bodyguard long before Optimus was Optimus… you shoulda seen them all back then, fresh oil. Trails at his best… Elita with every bit of the speed she was built for.”
I thought of the mechs and femme whose names Jazz spoke with such respect and affection. Together, they had represented much of the inner circles for two Primes - in Kup’s case, three - and Jazz now stood as one of the last survivors, if not the last survivor, of those inner circles. Kup had honored his fallen friends by telling his stories and theirs, gifting his memories to the younger generations of mechs and femmes in the hope that they would follow in the tracks of Sentinel’s trusted officers. Jazz, it seemed, had chosen another path: honoring his friends by remaining as youthful and strong as they had been at their peak, and in so doing, keeping them real and relevant and alive.
Jazz reached behind him and stirred the energon with one finger. The ripples spread, disturbing his reflection and mine and creating small waves that splashed backward when the liquid reached the wall. For a klik, the ever-present buoyant enthusiasm left his face, and he wore a troubled expression, as though it was uncomfortable to recall the brothers-in-arms he had outlived and to be revealed as the repository of Cybertronian history that he was.
I smiled at him, just a little sadly. “Maybe I should call you Uncle Jazzy.”
Jazz turned to face me, and the cheerfulness crept back into his visored optics. “Nah.” He splashed a little of the energon onto my arm. “Now, one thing you’re gonna need for your bonding, Miss Headline - a good loud party. Let’s talk playlist…”
The End
Next: New factions and new enemies emerge with deadly results in "Third Party."