[FIC] Resolution, 7/? (Transformers, Jazz/OC, R)
Title: Resolution, Chapter 7 - "A New Reality"
Author: Lola Hard
Beta: ionicaq (thank you, my dear :))
Fandom: Transformers (post-movie 2007)
Pairing: Jazz/humanOFC
Rating: R or T in this chapter (for language)
Genre: Romance/Adventure
Summary: A couple of months have passed since the destruction of the Allspark. A young girl named Rita is a singer in a pop-rock band. She seems to be a successful artist and have a good life, but an unknown disease is slowly killing her. To add more to her plate, strange people are hunting after her, their motives and reasons unknown. It’s then when partially repaired Jazz appears on the horizon. And it all seems to be more serious than even the powerful Autobots could imagine.
~ Chapter 7 - “A New Reality” ~
Rita’s entire being wanted only to fall to the ground and never get up. Just to stop running and let whatever fate was waiting for her overtake her. A breathless sob escaped her lips as every muscle strained to its limits. She felt hot tears streaming down her face, her palms got damp and sweaty. It felt like she was moving through a thick substance that tugged at her with its ethereal fingers, pulling her back and down.
Jazz had told her to run. He knows what he’s doing. But the sight of him standing on his knees on the carpeted floor, injured and unable to get up, flashed behind her eyelids. She growled with anger directed at herself and put every last bit of energy into keeping her numb legs moving.
Don’t stop, don’t stop…
A breath, another one. The air was coming in and out of her lungs with a loud hiss, and the sting of burning pain in her chest was now a permanent presence. She heard a muffled roar that seemed to come from outside the building and felt the floor quaking underneath her feet, and she didn’t really want to know what caused it.
She burst through the door of the first floor and ran into the reception hall, mingling with a small crowd of people - personnel and customers - who were running in panic towards the front entrance and attempting to leave the shaking building in the face of danger.
A deafening sound of a close explosion greeted her escape from the hotel. One of the cars at the parking lot blew up along with a stone statue near it. Rita covered her head with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a desperate cry and running even faster than before. A wave of heat washed over her. Bits of debris flew in all directions; those who happened to be anywhere near the hotel dashed from their slicing path, shrieking and shouting. Small splinters of stone cut Rita’s unprotected arms, painting them with numerous thin lines of red, but she didn’t even notice.
Stopping in the center of the parking lot, she uncovered her head and, following instincts, looked back. What she saw there glued her to the spot and made her forget about almost getting killed, about Jazz lying on the floor with gunshot wounds, about everything. Two giant metallic… things were towering over the hotel’s parking lot, tangled together. One was bright yellow in color, and the other was black and white. It took a dumbstruck Rita a moment to realize that they were fighting - or more like wrestling. Earth shuddered under their enormous legs that struggled to find a firmer stance. One of the black-white figure’s “arms” snapped, clicked loudly, rotated and unfolded into something round and menacing that looked very much like some ridiculously huge cannon from a comic book. The yellow figure grabbed at it, trying to lift it up, but not succeeding much. A burst of fire and blinding light from that “arm” was accompanied by an awful thunderous sound of heavy weapons discharging that filled the air and drowned out the new wave of fearful yells around. Yet another car blew up, steely bits of it flying in the air as if they weighed nothing, shattering the windows of two nearby vehicles to pieces and setting them on fire. Metal screeched and moaned as the two large forms attacked each other in a close fight, huge fists clenched tightly and two sets of bright lights - one blood-red and another one deep blue - were that their eyes? - blazing with what could only be described as rage on their almost human faces... It was unbelievable. Unthinkable…
Rita whimpered. It was really not a good time to think if she wanted to stay alive. She glanced around wildly in search of the silver Pontiac Solstice. She couldn’t see it. She brought the cell-phone that was still clutched in her hand to her ear, but there was no sound, no connection.
She growled with frustration, lowering the phone. “Jazz!” she cried out at the top of her lungs turning around and searching for him with her eyes. Her voice was quivering from fear and adrenaline. Would he hear her? “Jazz, where are you?!” Was she really calling a car, for Christ’s sake?! A visit to a shrink would have to be in order once it all came to an end.
Rita heard a roar of an engine to her left, and turning in that direction she saw a familiar silvery sleek frame. Her heart leaped when she realized there was no driver behind the steering wheel.
God, it’s true…
The self-driving Pontiac raced towards her, blaring its horn like crazy and making the disoriented crowd of people jump out of its way. Rita just stood there, shocked and unable to move. Several yards from her the car’s brakes caught and the front wheels turned, making the vehicle skid the rest of the distance with an ear-piercing sound. It stopped right in front of Rita, the driver’s door within the reach of her hand. Now that the car was close, the girl’s gaze fell on the deep gashes on its hood that looked as if a gigantic tiger had used it to sharpen its claws… And then the Solstice shuddered, its engine cut out and all the lights on the dashboard dimming, as if somebody had simply turned the car off.
Not knowing what it all meant and how to react, Rita opened the door and got inside in a hurry, trying not to freak out. She found the key in the ignition with her trembling fingers and turned it.
Nothing.
“Come on, come on… Jazz…” she whined, turning the unresponsive ignition and glancing every now and then at the entrance of the building. She didn’t know what or who she was expecting to see there: her persecutors, or Jazz’s hologram, or both. So far none of them had appeared.
She tried to start the engine, again and again. Something was really, seriously wrong. The car was silent. Cold. Dead, came the horrible thought.
“No, no, no, don’t leave me, Jazz!” It had been just a hologram in the building, right? It hadn’t been the real him, right? He couldn’t be dead!
“Oh God… wake up, buddy… please,” she begged, giving up with the ignition and grasping the steering wheel and the dashboard with shaking hands. She was crying openly now, hot tears smearing the world around her.
The two armed men burst through the front doors of the hotel and were now making their way to the silver Pontiac she was sitting in, having spotted it easily in the middle of the parking lot. Her gaze sought Jazz’s hologram, but he wasn’t there.
So this is it?
She watched the two men approach quickly through the haze in her eyes. One of them had blood on his face and held onto his nose that was probably broken; the one with the bandaged ear was cradling his left arm, and they were so close that she could see the broken skin on the knuckles of his right hand, like from a powerful punch. A sob broke free from her lungs as she pictured the scenario that must have taken place in that corridor and led to these injuries. Their guns were drawn, the very fact not promising any good. Another explosion shook the ground, and stones flew like shrapnel in all directions again. She should have been afraid, but something broke inside of her that very moment. She didn’t really care anymore. She didn’t have strength to run, and she wasn’t leaving him behind once again…
The growl of engine suddenly coming to life and reverberating through the car’s entire form startled her, and she could swear it was the most pleasant and beautiful sound she had ever heard in her entire life. The control panel lighted up like a Christmas tree and a safety belt pinned her securely to the seat. Tires loudly complained at the mad acceleration - and they were tearing down the road, leaving the swearing attackers with nothing but traces of burned rubber on the asphalt.
-----
They were moving, away from the hotel, away from danger. They both were silent, composing their thoughts and trying to calm down. Cars, trees, people flew past them like a blurred background; only the sounds of rumbling engine and hammering heart existed for the two of them.
Rita tried to collect her thoughts, thinking frantically. Okay, so she was riding in the car that was driving itself, without her participation in the process. To say that it was freaky would be an understatement. Her self-preservation instinct was going crazy; her hands wanted to twitch up to the steering wheel, and legs threatened to reach down to the brake every time the Pontiac got close to other cars on the road. But the vehicle was managing just fine, all smooth acceleration and fluent turns. Rita found herself mesmerized by the movements of self-rotating steering wheel. It was like a sci-fi movie. Maybe there was some crazy fella following her in the other car with a joystick? Not really believing this theory after all she’d seen Rita turned around in her seat to glance back for a moment. As expected, she didn’t spot anything suspicious in the mass of traffic behind them. All this wasn’t really helping her relax, but, on the other hand, if there was one thing this situation had taught her, it was that it wasn’t such a wild idea that Jazz was a car. So, essentially, if he was driving, that meant he was alive, right? Upon thinking down this path, she decided she didn’t fucking care as long as it meant that Jazz was alive.
“…Jazz?” Rita asked tentatively, her voice trembling. She had to make sure…
The radio hissed for a second and then Jazz’s voice calmly responded. “What’s crackin’?”
Suddenly Rita smacked Jazz’s steering wheel with her palms as hard as she could. “You stupid FUCK!” She shouted. “What the HELL were you doing there in that damn building? You scared the SHIT out of me! I thought you died!”
Silence.
Done with her outburst, Rita was now breathing heavily, trying to stop the tears that seemed to flow down her cheeks without her permission.
“Y’know, I care a lot ‘bout ya, too,” Jazz’s voice came from the radio, and she could swear she heard a cocky smile in it.
Smug bastard. Rita let out a weak nervous laugh through her tears in an attempt to relieve an awful tension of the past hours. She finally let herself believe that they both were still alive, and that belief was plunging her into a state of euphoria.
Jazz’s answering soft laugh felt like a mental embrace to her.
“Oh man,” she let her head fall back against the headrest in exhaustion and smiled trying to wipe the moisture from her face. “Sorry for yelling, Jazz… and smacking, too.”
“Ya okay, girl?” he asked softly, a twin of her smile in his voice.
She didn’t correct him, or rebel against the endearment - at least it sounded like an endearment - deciding to give him one of her own. “That was supposed to be my line, cowboy. You’re the one who got shot.”
Instead of an answer he projected his holo to the passenger seat. Those familiar blue eyes were smiling at her with mischief, just like the first time she had seen him. Her gaze involuntarily dropped down to his chest and midsection. The shirt was clean, with no traces of blood on it. Unceremoniously, she reached her hand out and behind his back to touch the spots where the bullets had hit him. He didn’t stop her, but instead leaned forward a bit and let her examine his body the way she wanted, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Her hand roamed carefully down his back. No injuries, no signs of violation… It was then when she suddenly realized that his body actually felt solid under her fingers. The girl gave him a startled look and could force only one word from herself. “H-… How?”
Jazz, who had been enjoying her bold actions, lifted his brow. “You mean how ’m still alive? Well, I can’t go ta the Pit from the “death” o’ ma’ holo-projection. But ma’ original body’s connected to its nervous system and tends ta shut down if the holo suffers severe damage, and needs ta reboot. Ya could see the process yourself.” He nodded to her.
Rita shook her head and put both hands on the steering wheel. “No, I mean how is it that you’re… real? Like… solid.” She looked at him with curiosity.
“Oh,” Jazz ran a hand through his unruly hair. “It’s kinda… hard ta explain, Ratch would do it better. I’ll juz say that it’s a super-advanced technology that hasn’t yet been invented here on Earth.”
“But you hadn’t been… real before,” she managed, confused to no end.
Jazz got more comfortable in his seat and took a casual relaxed pose. “Well, ya see, all Transformers are actually equipped wit’ a high-level holo-projector. But in ma’ case it wasn’t working properly, I got it… damaged a bit in battle. But now it’s on, one hundred p’cent,” he smiled and gave her a wink.
She was desperately trying to process this avalanche of new information. “So you… feel pain, right?” It wasn’t really a question, for she had heard the answer there, in that building. She was sure she’d be hearing that sound in her nightmares for a long time.
“I feel everythin’. Pain included,” he said simply. As if those bullets were nothing. As if it was normal to suffer physical damage for another being without a second thought, and shrug it off the next minute. No one had ever done that for her. Ever. She didn’t know what exactly she felt, it was a full bucket of emotions, and it was impossible to name all the components of it, or to say which one prevailed.
“You are crazy, Jazz,” she shook her head finally.
He shrugged and smiled. “So are you, girl.”
She smiled back at him, and this time it felt good. Then seriousness returned to Rita’s face. “How are Bumblebee and Ratchet?”
“Ironhide showed up. Our big an’ brutal Master of Cannons,” Jazz informed her. “It kinda ended the fight that very moment. They all are fine, we’ll meet ‘em at the base.”
Ironhide. That had to be the fourth. Jazz had said there were five of them, so that left one more. Oh yeah, that Optimus-guy.
“What about those two…?” Rita asked, barely suppressing the shudder at the memory of her unsuccessful kidnappers.
“They ‘re prob’ly tryin’ ta rub the ink off o’ their fingers and posin’ for a prison family album right now. The cops are there, too,” Jazz explained with a chuckle.
“Oh,” was all Rita could say at that.
“What’s with yer arms, girl?” Jazz frowned. His fingers lightly touched the uncovered skin of her right arm, causing her to jump slightly at the unexpected contact and gently tracing multiple little cuts.
“Oh,” Rita said again. It looked like it had become the only word she could say without difficulty. “I… There were explosions… I think the pieces of debris cut me,” she mumbled, wondering why she hadn’t noticed it before and couldn’t feel the pain now. Adrenaline probably.
“Did they hurt ya?” Jazz asked, looking her straight in the eyes. Rita knew who he was talking about. She tried to look calm as she shook her head.
“No… No, they didn’t.” He watched her for a second more, and then nodded, satisfied. “What are those… cuts on the… on your… hood?” She asked quietly. It was strange to think that a hood of a car could be someone’s body part.
Jazz winced. “Got scratched up a bit,” he said nonchalantly. “No big deal,” he added with a smile. “Nuthin’ that Doc can’t fix.”
The girl fell silent for a minute. She wanted to ask him a thousand of questions at once, so she was choosing where to start. “Uh… Let me get this straight. Those were… robots,” she finally said. It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a statement. It was hard to deny what her eyes had told her at the hotel’s parking lot, and unless she had a hole in her head - which she had all reasons to suspect, by the way - she was pretty sure those were robots.
Jazz nodded. “Tha’z right. Ta answer a bunch o’ questions ya must be dyin’ ta ask, here’s the story. We, the Autobots, ‘the good guys,’ as one o’ ma’ Earth friends calls us, - are at war with the Decepticons, ‘the bad guys.’ Both factions left our common home planet Cybertron in search o’ the Allspark, the Energy Cube that used ta… used ta give life to transformers…” Jazz paused for a second, his brows meeting for a moment, and Rita opened her mouth to ask him about it, but he started speaking again. “The Allspark landed on Earth an’ tha’z how the Cybertronian War relocated here. Two months ago the Autobots and the military forces of the US confronted the Decepticons in the battle for the Allspark that took place here, in Mission City. Ya’d probably seen those ruins in the center of it? Well, don’ believe all that shit about ‘extensive acts of terror’ on the news channels. Those are the consequences o’ that fight. The only good thing ‘bout it was that Optimus and the guys won.” Something was strange about this last statement, but, again, Rita didn’t have a chance to form a question as Jazz continued. “But the Allspark was… destroyed,” he frowned painfully not looking at Rita and paused again briefly. “Anyway, the leader o’ the Decepticons, Megatron, was killed in that battle. But it looks like the ‘Cons ain’t gonna give up the war.”
Rita stared at Jazz open-mouthed, trying to logically put everything into her abused brain. Her mind refused to believe any of this, but she’d already seen enough things that shattered the borders of her reality, so she had no reasons not to believe her bodyguard’s words.
“But… If the Allspark was destroyed, what are they fighting for?” She finally formed the question.
Several seconds passed before Jazz replied quietly, “You.”
Rita’s eyes went wide, she searched Jazz’s face for something that could explain this to her, or indicate that it was a stupid joke - but his blue gaze was unreadable. “Why?” She squeezed the word out of her lungs.
“Yer emittin’ some kind of a signal that can be picked up only by the Cybertronian equipment. Before ya start askin’, we don’t know what the signal means, an’ I’m almost ready ta bet ma’ stereo system that the Decepticons don’t know that either. But they sure wanna getcha, and those two goons who’d tried ta kidnap ya worked for them.”
“Brilliant, just… brilliant,” Rita muttered quietly. She thought of the hotel and the bullets that were undoubtedly meant for her. “Okay… Then why did they try to… to kill me if they needed me?”
“They’d rather bring their new leader Starscream yer body than let ya get away an’ then pay for it wit’ their lives,” Jazz smirked, but there was no humor in that momentary quirk of his lips. “That’s the way our enemy is.”
That last bit of information stunned Rita into an absolute silence for good two minutes. It was one thing to know that you are being hunted down by two human criminals, and it felt totally different to learn that you are an object of the scientific “interests” of huge evil robots from another planet.
“Don’ worry, they won’t getcha. Not while ma’ engine’s workin’,” Jazz winked at her, and indeed, the engine made a roaring sound, calming down to a deep vibrating growl that shook the entire car. The feeling was… unique, Rita forgot how to breathe for a moment.
Then it suddenly occurred to her that it was Jazz’s body she was currently sitting in. Moreover, she caught herself absently squeezing the steering wheel and stroking the leather of her seat with her thumb. Moreover, that very second the engine started purring contentedly, and Jazz’s holo-form relaxed against his seat, his body going limp and a somewhat dreamy smirk appearing on his lips. Her memory helpfully suggested to her the images of their first drive together when she’d thought that something was wrong with the car, since it was moving strangely. “He’s my alter-ego,” she remembered Jazz’s words. “I’m glad ya like him. An’ I can assure ya he likes ya, too,” he’d said. Rita’s brain screeched to a halt. The girl jerked her hands away from where they were touching the Autobot’s interior and quickly put them on her lap, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed.
Jazz turned his head to her. “Hey, I actually didn’t mind that,” he murmured, flashing her a smile, and Rita felt herself blushing like a schoolgirl. She certainly found Jazz’s hologram attractive - how could she not, for God’s sake? He chose his looks well - and the bastard knew it. As if to confirm her thoughts, Jazz’s smile became a grin, and his eyes sparkled. But he had enough decency not to laugh at her aloud. It was a pretty stunning experience to be on the receiving end of a robot alien flirting, and it confused her to no end. She silently wondered if he was always like that. Unfortunately, this question couldn’t be answered at the moment, and she decided to just change the topic.
“Um… So, those big metal guys who were fighting at the hotel’s parking lot - they’re… the same as you?” She asked him curiously.
“Basically, yeah,” he nodded. “Though we all have different designs and personalities. Juz like humans.”
Rita chuckled softly. “Humans don’t have a ‘design,’ but yeah, I get what you mean. I take it, they can be cars like you, and you can be a robot like them?”
“Yup,” he simply nodded.
“So… What’s your robot-form like?” She tried to sound confident, but didn’t succeed much.
Jazz quirked a lopsided grin at her. “Dontcha wanna know, huh,” he teased playfully, as if they were chatting merely about what he’d had for breakfast that morning. Rita briefly wondered if the robots needed any food at all, but this question could wait for later. She creased her brows in thought, returning to the matter at hand.
Truthfully, the prospect of him showing her his “primary form” and of her being up close with one of those spooky huge creatures again was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and not in a very good way. But she pushed this fear aside. Logically thinking, if Jazz wanted to harm her, he’d have done it about a thousand times by now. And he wouldn’t have caught those bullets for her in the first place, and he wouldn’t have stopped that man near the café-bar. So there was probably nothing to worry about, at least for now.
“Well, yeah, I wanna know.” This time it came out closer to the intended ‘I’m a brave tiny human and I’m not afraid of metallic humanoid skyscrapers that could squish me with a tip of the small finger of their left hand and not even notice it’ intonation, a daring streak underlining the girl’s words. Though whom she was daring - him or herself - she wasn’t sure. Probably both of them. But then again, she didn’t think he even considered it a challenge. He didn’t seem to mind anything, appearing almost comfortable with the whole situation. Was his life always like that? Was it normal for him to almost die and tell others that they were a source of some idiotic signal and thus were being hunted for God only knows what kinds of experiments?
Rita’s musings were cut short when the car suddenly slammed the brakes and took a sharp 90 degree turn, leaving the main road. She had only now noticed that they’d left the city and for some time had been moving down the highway. Well, not anymore.
“Hey! What-…?” Rita exclaimed, grabbing the door handle and the safety belt to keep her balance. She looked at Jazz’s hologram with a start; he remained relaxed in his seat, his gaze directed straight ahead.
“Ya wanna see, I’ll give ya somethin’ ta look at,” he drawled calmly.
These words sounded like a vague threat, but then a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, so natural, it caused Rita to snort in a wordless disbelief. No wonder his attempt at persuading her that he was her “assistant” had turned an absolute success - she could have sworn the guy was human to the bone, had she not known better.
They rolled to the secluded area covered with thick sprouts of tall trees from all sides, and slowed to a stop. Rita didn’t move, unsure of what to do. She looked at Jazz’s holo-form that winked at her and dissipated from the passenger seat. Rita’s door opened with a soft click, and Jazz’s voice came from the radio, “Ladies an’ gentlemen, thanks fur choosin’ the Autobot Express. Don’ forget yer stuff on yer way out, unless ya want it squished.”
Rita chuckled mentally. Not that she had time to take anything with her from the hotel… Anyway, it was undoubtedly a tipoff to step out of the vehicle, and Rita followed the request, trying to calm her quivering insides as she moved away from the Pontiac.
And then the car she’d been sitting in just a minute ago started to… change.
The hood fell forward, as if the Solstice had broken up in half, front wheels slid up and folded back with a quiet whirr, and the rear part of the car just… fell apart, producing loud clanking sounds that made her jump and take a step back.
A long metallic part - it looked like an arm - protruded from the chaotic whirl of components and braced on the ground firmly, the rest rising up in the air, still shifting shape. Rita was almost positive she saw two legs - and then whatever was before her performed a hand-stand spin that looked very much like one of those street break dance stunts, landing on its feet like a spring.
Standing in front of her, outlined against the smoky-purple abyss of the morning sky, was a robot; his arms were folded over his chest, posture relaxed, and where his eyes should have been, there was a black mirrored polished shiny... thing that reminded her of sunglasses.
Rita’s mouth hung open. She started to doubt that all this was a good idea.
The quiet stillness was interrupted by one of the robot’s shoulder plates falling away from his arm with a complaining squeak and hanging down on a loose hinge. He inserted it back into place with a single forceful punch of his fist and resumed his lazy stance as if nothing had happened.
Come to think of it, this should have been funny, but Rita lost her voice and all control over the muscles of her face, just gaping up in mute astonishment.
She didn’t know what was freaking her out more: his size, or the fact that he looked and moved just like a human. She’d so much prefer if he resembled something… well, not so animate. But instead, this creature before her combined the lethal power of metal and the human flexibility - not a good thing in her book. Small scared voice was miserably mumbling in her head: “It’s alive; it’s big and strong, and also clever, armed and dangerous. We’re in deep shit, aren’t we…?”
Gathering her wits, Rita willed herself to stand upright and hid her shaking hands behind her back, fighting the instinct that told her to back away, turn around and fucking run already. She’d had enough fainting sessions for one day; her body wouldn’t forgive her if she had another one. But she sure as hell felt like doing just that when Jazz came down on one knee in front of her and leaned forward, reducing the distance of their silent communication to several frightening inches…
~ End of Chapter 7 ~
Author: Lola Hard
Beta: ionicaq (thank you, my dear :))
Fandom: Transformers (post-movie 2007)
Pairing: Jazz/humanOFC
Rating: R or T in this chapter (for language)
Genre: Romance/Adventure
Summary: A couple of months have passed since the destruction of the Allspark. A young girl named Rita is a singer in a pop-rock band. She seems to be a successful artist and have a good life, but an unknown disease is slowly killing her. To add more to her plate, strange people are hunting after her, their motives and reasons unknown. It’s then when partially repaired Jazz appears on the horizon. And it all seems to be more serious than even the powerful Autobots could imagine.
~ Chapter 7 - “A New Reality” ~
Rita’s entire being wanted only to fall to the ground and never get up. Just to stop running and let whatever fate was waiting for her overtake her. A breathless sob escaped her lips as every muscle strained to its limits. She felt hot tears streaming down her face, her palms got damp and sweaty. It felt like she was moving through a thick substance that tugged at her with its ethereal fingers, pulling her back and down.
Jazz had told her to run. He knows what he’s doing. But the sight of him standing on his knees on the carpeted floor, injured and unable to get up, flashed behind her eyelids. She growled with anger directed at herself and put every last bit of energy into keeping her numb legs moving.
Don’t stop, don’t stop…
A breath, another one. The air was coming in and out of her lungs with a loud hiss, and the sting of burning pain in her chest was now a permanent presence. She heard a muffled roar that seemed to come from outside the building and felt the floor quaking underneath her feet, and she didn’t really want to know what caused it.
She burst through the door of the first floor and ran into the reception hall, mingling with a small crowd of people - personnel and customers - who were running in panic towards the front entrance and attempting to leave the shaking building in the face of danger.
A deafening sound of a close explosion greeted her escape from the hotel. One of the cars at the parking lot blew up along with a stone statue near it. Rita covered her head with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a desperate cry and running even faster than before. A wave of heat washed over her. Bits of debris flew in all directions; those who happened to be anywhere near the hotel dashed from their slicing path, shrieking and shouting. Small splinters of stone cut Rita’s unprotected arms, painting them with numerous thin lines of red, but she didn’t even notice.
Stopping in the center of the parking lot, she uncovered her head and, following instincts, looked back. What she saw there glued her to the spot and made her forget about almost getting killed, about Jazz lying on the floor with gunshot wounds, about everything. Two giant metallic… things were towering over the hotel’s parking lot, tangled together. One was bright yellow in color, and the other was black and white. It took a dumbstruck Rita a moment to realize that they were fighting - or more like wrestling. Earth shuddered under their enormous legs that struggled to find a firmer stance. One of the black-white figure’s “arms” snapped, clicked loudly, rotated and unfolded into something round and menacing that looked very much like some ridiculously huge cannon from a comic book. The yellow figure grabbed at it, trying to lift it up, but not succeeding much. A burst of fire and blinding light from that “arm” was accompanied by an awful thunderous sound of heavy weapons discharging that filled the air and drowned out the new wave of fearful yells around. Yet another car blew up, steely bits of it flying in the air as if they weighed nothing, shattering the windows of two nearby vehicles to pieces and setting them on fire. Metal screeched and moaned as the two large forms attacked each other in a close fight, huge fists clenched tightly and two sets of bright lights - one blood-red and another one deep blue - were that their eyes? - blazing with what could only be described as rage on their almost human faces... It was unbelievable. Unthinkable…
Rita whimpered. It was really not a good time to think if she wanted to stay alive. She glanced around wildly in search of the silver Pontiac Solstice. She couldn’t see it. She brought the cell-phone that was still clutched in her hand to her ear, but there was no sound, no connection.
She growled with frustration, lowering the phone. “Jazz!” she cried out at the top of her lungs turning around and searching for him with her eyes. Her voice was quivering from fear and adrenaline. Would he hear her? “Jazz, where are you?!” Was she really calling a car, for Christ’s sake?! A visit to a shrink would have to be in order once it all came to an end.
Rita heard a roar of an engine to her left, and turning in that direction she saw a familiar silvery sleek frame. Her heart leaped when she realized there was no driver behind the steering wheel.
God, it’s true…
The self-driving Pontiac raced towards her, blaring its horn like crazy and making the disoriented crowd of people jump out of its way. Rita just stood there, shocked and unable to move. Several yards from her the car’s brakes caught and the front wheels turned, making the vehicle skid the rest of the distance with an ear-piercing sound. It stopped right in front of Rita, the driver’s door within the reach of her hand. Now that the car was close, the girl’s gaze fell on the deep gashes on its hood that looked as if a gigantic tiger had used it to sharpen its claws… And then the Solstice shuddered, its engine cut out and all the lights on the dashboard dimming, as if somebody had simply turned the car off.
Not knowing what it all meant and how to react, Rita opened the door and got inside in a hurry, trying not to freak out. She found the key in the ignition with her trembling fingers and turned it.
Nothing.
“Come on, come on… Jazz…” she whined, turning the unresponsive ignition and glancing every now and then at the entrance of the building. She didn’t know what or who she was expecting to see there: her persecutors, or Jazz’s hologram, or both. So far none of them had appeared.
She tried to start the engine, again and again. Something was really, seriously wrong. The car was silent. Cold. Dead, came the horrible thought.
“No, no, no, don’t leave me, Jazz!” It had been just a hologram in the building, right? It hadn’t been the real him, right? He couldn’t be dead!
“Oh God… wake up, buddy… please,” she begged, giving up with the ignition and grasping the steering wheel and the dashboard with shaking hands. She was crying openly now, hot tears smearing the world around her.
The two armed men burst through the front doors of the hotel and were now making their way to the silver Pontiac she was sitting in, having spotted it easily in the middle of the parking lot. Her gaze sought Jazz’s hologram, but he wasn’t there.
So this is it?
She watched the two men approach quickly through the haze in her eyes. One of them had blood on his face and held onto his nose that was probably broken; the one with the bandaged ear was cradling his left arm, and they were so close that she could see the broken skin on the knuckles of his right hand, like from a powerful punch. A sob broke free from her lungs as she pictured the scenario that must have taken place in that corridor and led to these injuries. Their guns were drawn, the very fact not promising any good. Another explosion shook the ground, and stones flew like shrapnel in all directions again. She should have been afraid, but something broke inside of her that very moment. She didn’t really care anymore. She didn’t have strength to run, and she wasn’t leaving him behind once again…
The growl of engine suddenly coming to life and reverberating through the car’s entire form startled her, and she could swear it was the most pleasant and beautiful sound she had ever heard in her entire life. The control panel lighted up like a Christmas tree and a safety belt pinned her securely to the seat. Tires loudly complained at the mad acceleration - and they were tearing down the road, leaving the swearing attackers with nothing but traces of burned rubber on the asphalt.
-----
They were moving, away from the hotel, away from danger. They both were silent, composing their thoughts and trying to calm down. Cars, trees, people flew past them like a blurred background; only the sounds of rumbling engine and hammering heart existed for the two of them.
Rita tried to collect her thoughts, thinking frantically. Okay, so she was riding in the car that was driving itself, without her participation in the process. To say that it was freaky would be an understatement. Her self-preservation instinct was going crazy; her hands wanted to twitch up to the steering wheel, and legs threatened to reach down to the brake every time the Pontiac got close to other cars on the road. But the vehicle was managing just fine, all smooth acceleration and fluent turns. Rita found herself mesmerized by the movements of self-rotating steering wheel. It was like a sci-fi movie. Maybe there was some crazy fella following her in the other car with a joystick? Not really believing this theory after all she’d seen Rita turned around in her seat to glance back for a moment. As expected, she didn’t spot anything suspicious in the mass of traffic behind them. All this wasn’t really helping her relax, but, on the other hand, if there was one thing this situation had taught her, it was that it wasn’t such a wild idea that Jazz was a car. So, essentially, if he was driving, that meant he was alive, right? Upon thinking down this path, she decided she didn’t fucking care as long as it meant that Jazz was alive.
“…Jazz?” Rita asked tentatively, her voice trembling. She had to make sure…
The radio hissed for a second and then Jazz’s voice calmly responded. “What’s crackin’?”
Suddenly Rita smacked Jazz’s steering wheel with her palms as hard as she could. “You stupid FUCK!” She shouted. “What the HELL were you doing there in that damn building? You scared the SHIT out of me! I thought you died!”
Silence.
Done with her outburst, Rita was now breathing heavily, trying to stop the tears that seemed to flow down her cheeks without her permission.
“Y’know, I care a lot ‘bout ya, too,” Jazz’s voice came from the radio, and she could swear she heard a cocky smile in it.
Smug bastard. Rita let out a weak nervous laugh through her tears in an attempt to relieve an awful tension of the past hours. She finally let herself believe that they both were still alive, and that belief was plunging her into a state of euphoria.
Jazz’s answering soft laugh felt like a mental embrace to her.
“Oh man,” she let her head fall back against the headrest in exhaustion and smiled trying to wipe the moisture from her face. “Sorry for yelling, Jazz… and smacking, too.”
“Ya okay, girl?” he asked softly, a twin of her smile in his voice.
She didn’t correct him, or rebel against the endearment - at least it sounded like an endearment - deciding to give him one of her own. “That was supposed to be my line, cowboy. You’re the one who got shot.”
Instead of an answer he projected his holo to the passenger seat. Those familiar blue eyes were smiling at her with mischief, just like the first time she had seen him. Her gaze involuntarily dropped down to his chest and midsection. The shirt was clean, with no traces of blood on it. Unceremoniously, she reached her hand out and behind his back to touch the spots where the bullets had hit him. He didn’t stop her, but instead leaned forward a bit and let her examine his body the way she wanted, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Her hand roamed carefully down his back. No injuries, no signs of violation… It was then when she suddenly realized that his body actually felt solid under her fingers. The girl gave him a startled look and could force only one word from herself. “H-… How?”
Jazz, who had been enjoying her bold actions, lifted his brow. “You mean how ’m still alive? Well, I can’t go ta the Pit from the “death” o’ ma’ holo-projection. But ma’ original body’s connected to its nervous system and tends ta shut down if the holo suffers severe damage, and needs ta reboot. Ya could see the process yourself.” He nodded to her.
Rita shook her head and put both hands on the steering wheel. “No, I mean how is it that you’re… real? Like… solid.” She looked at him with curiosity.
“Oh,” Jazz ran a hand through his unruly hair. “It’s kinda… hard ta explain, Ratch would do it better. I’ll juz say that it’s a super-advanced technology that hasn’t yet been invented here on Earth.”
“But you hadn’t been… real before,” she managed, confused to no end.
Jazz got more comfortable in his seat and took a casual relaxed pose. “Well, ya see, all Transformers are actually equipped wit’ a high-level holo-projector. But in ma’ case it wasn’t working properly, I got it… damaged a bit in battle. But now it’s on, one hundred p’cent,” he smiled and gave her a wink.
She was desperately trying to process this avalanche of new information. “So you… feel pain, right?” It wasn’t really a question, for she had heard the answer there, in that building. She was sure she’d be hearing that sound in her nightmares for a long time.
“I feel everythin’. Pain included,” he said simply. As if those bullets were nothing. As if it was normal to suffer physical damage for another being without a second thought, and shrug it off the next minute. No one had ever done that for her. Ever. She didn’t know what exactly she felt, it was a full bucket of emotions, and it was impossible to name all the components of it, or to say which one prevailed.
“You are crazy, Jazz,” she shook her head finally.
He shrugged and smiled. “So are you, girl.”
She smiled back at him, and this time it felt good. Then seriousness returned to Rita’s face. “How are Bumblebee and Ratchet?”
“Ironhide showed up. Our big an’ brutal Master of Cannons,” Jazz informed her. “It kinda ended the fight that very moment. They all are fine, we’ll meet ‘em at the base.”
Ironhide. That had to be the fourth. Jazz had said there were five of them, so that left one more. Oh yeah, that Optimus-guy.
“What about those two…?” Rita asked, barely suppressing the shudder at the memory of her unsuccessful kidnappers.
“They ‘re prob’ly tryin’ ta rub the ink off o’ their fingers and posin’ for a prison family album right now. The cops are there, too,” Jazz explained with a chuckle.
“Oh,” was all Rita could say at that.
“What’s with yer arms, girl?” Jazz frowned. His fingers lightly touched the uncovered skin of her right arm, causing her to jump slightly at the unexpected contact and gently tracing multiple little cuts.
“Oh,” Rita said again. It looked like it had become the only word she could say without difficulty. “I… There were explosions… I think the pieces of debris cut me,” she mumbled, wondering why she hadn’t noticed it before and couldn’t feel the pain now. Adrenaline probably.
“Did they hurt ya?” Jazz asked, looking her straight in the eyes. Rita knew who he was talking about. She tried to look calm as she shook her head.
“No… No, they didn’t.” He watched her for a second more, and then nodded, satisfied. “What are those… cuts on the… on your… hood?” She asked quietly. It was strange to think that a hood of a car could be someone’s body part.
Jazz winced. “Got scratched up a bit,” he said nonchalantly. “No big deal,” he added with a smile. “Nuthin’ that Doc can’t fix.”
The girl fell silent for a minute. She wanted to ask him a thousand of questions at once, so she was choosing where to start. “Uh… Let me get this straight. Those were… robots,” she finally said. It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a statement. It was hard to deny what her eyes had told her at the hotel’s parking lot, and unless she had a hole in her head - which she had all reasons to suspect, by the way - she was pretty sure those were robots.
Jazz nodded. “Tha’z right. Ta answer a bunch o’ questions ya must be dyin’ ta ask, here’s the story. We, the Autobots, ‘the good guys,’ as one o’ ma’ Earth friends calls us, - are at war with the Decepticons, ‘the bad guys.’ Both factions left our common home planet Cybertron in search o’ the Allspark, the Energy Cube that used ta… used ta give life to transformers…” Jazz paused for a second, his brows meeting for a moment, and Rita opened her mouth to ask him about it, but he started speaking again. “The Allspark landed on Earth an’ tha’z how the Cybertronian War relocated here. Two months ago the Autobots and the military forces of the US confronted the Decepticons in the battle for the Allspark that took place here, in Mission City. Ya’d probably seen those ruins in the center of it? Well, don’ believe all that shit about ‘extensive acts of terror’ on the news channels. Those are the consequences o’ that fight. The only good thing ‘bout it was that Optimus and the guys won.” Something was strange about this last statement, but, again, Rita didn’t have a chance to form a question as Jazz continued. “But the Allspark was… destroyed,” he frowned painfully not looking at Rita and paused again briefly. “Anyway, the leader o’ the Decepticons, Megatron, was killed in that battle. But it looks like the ‘Cons ain’t gonna give up the war.”
Rita stared at Jazz open-mouthed, trying to logically put everything into her abused brain. Her mind refused to believe any of this, but she’d already seen enough things that shattered the borders of her reality, so she had no reasons not to believe her bodyguard’s words.
“But… If the Allspark was destroyed, what are they fighting for?” She finally formed the question.
Several seconds passed before Jazz replied quietly, “You.”
Rita’s eyes went wide, she searched Jazz’s face for something that could explain this to her, or indicate that it was a stupid joke - but his blue gaze was unreadable. “Why?” She squeezed the word out of her lungs.
“Yer emittin’ some kind of a signal that can be picked up only by the Cybertronian equipment. Before ya start askin’, we don’t know what the signal means, an’ I’m almost ready ta bet ma’ stereo system that the Decepticons don’t know that either. But they sure wanna getcha, and those two goons who’d tried ta kidnap ya worked for them.”
“Brilliant, just… brilliant,” Rita muttered quietly. She thought of the hotel and the bullets that were undoubtedly meant for her. “Okay… Then why did they try to… to kill me if they needed me?”
“They’d rather bring their new leader Starscream yer body than let ya get away an’ then pay for it wit’ their lives,” Jazz smirked, but there was no humor in that momentary quirk of his lips. “That’s the way our enemy is.”
That last bit of information stunned Rita into an absolute silence for good two minutes. It was one thing to know that you are being hunted down by two human criminals, and it felt totally different to learn that you are an object of the scientific “interests” of huge evil robots from another planet.
“Don’ worry, they won’t getcha. Not while ma’ engine’s workin’,” Jazz winked at her, and indeed, the engine made a roaring sound, calming down to a deep vibrating growl that shook the entire car. The feeling was… unique, Rita forgot how to breathe for a moment.
Then it suddenly occurred to her that it was Jazz’s body she was currently sitting in. Moreover, she caught herself absently squeezing the steering wheel and stroking the leather of her seat with her thumb. Moreover, that very second the engine started purring contentedly, and Jazz’s holo-form relaxed against his seat, his body going limp and a somewhat dreamy smirk appearing on his lips. Her memory helpfully suggested to her the images of their first drive together when she’d thought that something was wrong with the car, since it was moving strangely. “He’s my alter-ego,” she remembered Jazz’s words. “I’m glad ya like him. An’ I can assure ya he likes ya, too,” he’d said. Rita’s brain screeched to a halt. The girl jerked her hands away from where they were touching the Autobot’s interior and quickly put them on her lap, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed.
Jazz turned his head to her. “Hey, I actually didn’t mind that,” he murmured, flashing her a smile, and Rita felt herself blushing like a schoolgirl. She certainly found Jazz’s hologram attractive - how could she not, for God’s sake? He chose his looks well - and the bastard knew it. As if to confirm her thoughts, Jazz’s smile became a grin, and his eyes sparkled. But he had enough decency not to laugh at her aloud. It was a pretty stunning experience to be on the receiving end of a robot alien flirting, and it confused her to no end. She silently wondered if he was always like that. Unfortunately, this question couldn’t be answered at the moment, and she decided to just change the topic.
“Um… So, those big metal guys who were fighting at the hotel’s parking lot - they’re… the same as you?” She asked him curiously.
“Basically, yeah,” he nodded. “Though we all have different designs and personalities. Juz like humans.”
Rita chuckled softly. “Humans don’t have a ‘design,’ but yeah, I get what you mean. I take it, they can be cars like you, and you can be a robot like them?”
“Yup,” he simply nodded.
“So… What’s your robot-form like?” She tried to sound confident, but didn’t succeed much.
Jazz quirked a lopsided grin at her. “Dontcha wanna know, huh,” he teased playfully, as if they were chatting merely about what he’d had for breakfast that morning. Rita briefly wondered if the robots needed any food at all, but this question could wait for later. She creased her brows in thought, returning to the matter at hand.
Truthfully, the prospect of him showing her his “primary form” and of her being up close with one of those spooky huge creatures again was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and not in a very good way. But she pushed this fear aside. Logically thinking, if Jazz wanted to harm her, he’d have done it about a thousand times by now. And he wouldn’t have caught those bullets for her in the first place, and he wouldn’t have stopped that man near the café-bar. So there was probably nothing to worry about, at least for now.
“Well, yeah, I wanna know.” This time it came out closer to the intended ‘I’m a brave tiny human and I’m not afraid of metallic humanoid skyscrapers that could squish me with a tip of the small finger of their left hand and not even notice it’ intonation, a daring streak underlining the girl’s words. Though whom she was daring - him or herself - she wasn’t sure. Probably both of them. But then again, she didn’t think he even considered it a challenge. He didn’t seem to mind anything, appearing almost comfortable with the whole situation. Was his life always like that? Was it normal for him to almost die and tell others that they were a source of some idiotic signal and thus were being hunted for God only knows what kinds of experiments?
Rita’s musings were cut short when the car suddenly slammed the brakes and took a sharp 90 degree turn, leaving the main road. She had only now noticed that they’d left the city and for some time had been moving down the highway. Well, not anymore.
“Hey! What-…?” Rita exclaimed, grabbing the door handle and the safety belt to keep her balance. She looked at Jazz’s hologram with a start; he remained relaxed in his seat, his gaze directed straight ahead.
“Ya wanna see, I’ll give ya somethin’ ta look at,” he drawled calmly.
These words sounded like a vague threat, but then a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, so natural, it caused Rita to snort in a wordless disbelief. No wonder his attempt at persuading her that he was her “assistant” had turned an absolute success - she could have sworn the guy was human to the bone, had she not known better.
They rolled to the secluded area covered with thick sprouts of tall trees from all sides, and slowed to a stop. Rita didn’t move, unsure of what to do. She looked at Jazz’s holo-form that winked at her and dissipated from the passenger seat. Rita’s door opened with a soft click, and Jazz’s voice came from the radio, “Ladies an’ gentlemen, thanks fur choosin’ the Autobot Express. Don’ forget yer stuff on yer way out, unless ya want it squished.”
Rita chuckled mentally. Not that she had time to take anything with her from the hotel… Anyway, it was undoubtedly a tipoff to step out of the vehicle, and Rita followed the request, trying to calm her quivering insides as she moved away from the Pontiac.
And then the car she’d been sitting in just a minute ago started to… change.
The hood fell forward, as if the Solstice had broken up in half, front wheels slid up and folded back with a quiet whirr, and the rear part of the car just… fell apart, producing loud clanking sounds that made her jump and take a step back.
A long metallic part - it looked like an arm - protruded from the chaotic whirl of components and braced on the ground firmly, the rest rising up in the air, still shifting shape. Rita was almost positive she saw two legs - and then whatever was before her performed a hand-stand spin that looked very much like one of those street break dance stunts, landing on its feet like a spring.
Standing in front of her, outlined against the smoky-purple abyss of the morning sky, was a robot; his arms were folded over his chest, posture relaxed, and where his eyes should have been, there was a black mirrored polished shiny... thing that reminded her of sunglasses.
Rita’s mouth hung open. She started to doubt that all this was a good idea.
The quiet stillness was interrupted by one of the robot’s shoulder plates falling away from his arm with a complaining squeak and hanging down on a loose hinge. He inserted it back into place with a single forceful punch of his fist and resumed his lazy stance as if nothing had happened.
Come to think of it, this should have been funny, but Rita lost her voice and all control over the muscles of her face, just gaping up in mute astonishment.
She didn’t know what was freaking her out more: his size, or the fact that he looked and moved just like a human. She’d so much prefer if he resembled something… well, not so animate. But instead, this creature before her combined the lethal power of metal and the human flexibility - not a good thing in her book. Small scared voice was miserably mumbling in her head: “It’s alive; it’s big and strong, and also clever, armed and dangerous. We’re in deep shit, aren’t we…?”
Gathering her wits, Rita willed herself to stand upright and hid her shaking hands behind her back, fighting the instinct that told her to back away, turn around and fucking run already. She’d had enough fainting sessions for one day; her body wouldn’t forgive her if she had another one. But she sure as hell felt like doing just that when Jazz came down on one knee in front of her and leaned forward, reducing the distance of their silent communication to several frightening inches…
~ End of Chapter 7 ~