Darkened: The hermit in the wilds (7/7 Complete!)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
More mentions of things that I really need to write about. Ah well. I'll get there someday never.
The Hermit in the Wilds
….What the slag are you doing?
-Don’t start. Seriously, do not START.-
No, I think I have a right to know.
-Just give me the self-diagnostic. Without the attitude, without talking back or I’ll
You’ll what? Hack me? I’ll have you know my most basic firewalls are at least triple layered and medic grade. Try to touch me and I’ll shred your mind before you’ve even finished the thought.
-Look. Stop being ridiculous. You don’t have any firewalls. You are a glitch, a construct, a fragging ghost in Prowl’s slagged up processor that has integrated into his diagnostic protocols. I, on the other hand, have all those aforementioned medic grade safeguards. Do not tempt me to try to reinstall those protocols and erase you from existence.-
Who the slag do you think you are? I am Ratchet, the Head medic at Iacon Hospital! You, half-bit, are under my authority!
-...-
That’s what I thought. But keeping talking back to me, I’ll have you sent back to med school!
-…Prowl. Seriously. I know you are online and quite possibly laughing at me. Tell him to give me the slagging diagnostic report.-
As you wish, Ratchet.
-…-
-…I hate that slagger.-
The self-diagnostic protocol bristled then subsided at Prowl’s command. Ratchet’s presence shifted awkwardly inside his processor as he went over the report. He couldn’t settle comfortably besides Prowl’s mind, it was jagged and sharp and Ratchet instead had to try and fit in between the edges.
-The Decepticons hacked you?- Ratchet sounded dubious at this course of action.
They tried to.
-Ah. How well did it end for them?-
They died.
-Not a surprising outcome. What about your…rescuers?-
As far as I am aware, they did nothing to my processor.
-Ironhide reckons the silver one is a skilled hacker.-
That matches with what they told me.
Ratchet sent a pulse of disgruntled acknowledgement then turned his attention to the state of Prowl’s mind -I’ve repaired your frame,- he said. -I’m quite frankly amazed you did not fall apart on your way here and I will deconstruct the mech that made your repairs. Anyway all that’s left is checking the state of your processors. Is there any way for you to quiet down your horde?-
Prowl considered this for a moment, Yoketron’s assertion that he was capable of clearing his mind flickered briefly to attention. It was extremely disconcerting for Ratchet to try and scan his mind, the data came scrambled and inconclusive due to Ratchet’s own inability to maintain focus whilst being swamped by a multitude of glitches, each convinced of their own life and personality. Actually…
-Prowl?- through the uplink, Ratchet had managed to catch the faint worry that had arisen in his patient.
Ratchet…I think my processor damage has gotten worse.
-Worse? How?- Ratchet’s presence was suddenly sharp and cold, the epitome of medical detachment.
One…one of the ghosts, Yoketron’s memory print, has being talking to me. Telling me things that I never knew, information I could not have known.
Prowl struggled briefly as he accessed his memory core and tried to transfer files to the medic so that he could understand. -Easy,- Ratchet cautioned as he accepted the files, damaged and near unreadable like everything else in Prowl’s processor. The encryption only made sense here because they were inside the tactician’s mind. Ratchet could view the files and make his own memories of them, but if he tried accessing the original files without being plugged into Prowl, they would read as complete gibberish.
-Well…-Ratchet began slowly as he went through Prowl’s memories for the previous three decacyles. -I haven’t ever heard of a medical case anything like this. But then again, much of your situation is unprecedented so that’s hardly surprising. Your master…he was a cyber-ninja. They were known to experiment with their sparks and this sounds like something they'd get up to. If anything, I should be the one asking you if you know anything about this.-
Prowl’s mind flicked to Jazz. The mech was a master in the Corps; he undoubtedly would have known the advanced techniques that Yoketron had never had a chance to show him. Perhaps he would know what was going on. But every attempt to speak cordially with him had not ended well, the ninjabot was on edge around him and Prowl could recognise that only the slightest amount of restraint had been keeping him alive.
But well…that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t speak to Jazz.
-Prowl?-
Perhaps Jazz knows more, he replied. You could ask him.
-Hmph, for all the good it does us,- Ratchet settled back as he quickly reviewed Prowl’s memories on the ninjabot. -He’s already escaped.-
Prowl was not unduly surprised to hear this. In fact, he’d have been rather surprised if he’d learned that Jazz and Zoom-Zoom hadn’t escaped.
Anything else I should know?
-You are on leave for the next few orns to let your repairs integrate. Ironide wants your processor deep-scanned but that’s because he’s mildly paranoid. I’ll get to that in a little while after I’ve made the necessary preparations. When I’m convinced you somewhat functional, you’ll be debriefed by Optimus…assuming he’s back by then.-
Alarm spiked through Prowl’s systems. Where’s Prime?
-He’s out…somewhere. Gave Ironhide the slip but left a message with the appropriate code words that meant he was okay and this was something he did under his own free will.-
Oh.
-He is so dead when he gets back.-
Iacon, in all its war torn glory, still looked familiar to Jazz’s optics. The damaged and in some cases, completely destroyed buildings, the palpable aura of fear and misery that hung over the city, the way mechs in the streets avoided each optics. Everyone was heavily armour and armed, defensive and on high alert for the slightest sign of aggression. And yet he recognised it still despite its changes.
Perhaps it was because he’d seen it once like this so many vorns ago.
You fought against our kind once when Megatronus threatened all that we achieved. Why do you hesitate to do so again?
Zoom-Zoom was a step behind his master, keeping an optic out as they scuttled through the subdued crowds. He was unprepared when Jazz stopped suddenly and he walked into his master’s back.
-Hey!- he tightbeamed, unwillingly to speak aloud and risk being overheard. -What was that for?-
Jazz remained still for a moment as he focused on his spark. He found the ripples of Yoketron’s presence, alert and semi-aware due to Zoom-Zoom’s close proximity. With the detached calmness of a cyber-ninja, he carefully slowed and stilled the part of his spark.
Yoketron’s voice finally fell silent inside his mind.
Immensely cheered by this, Jazz moved on without replying to his apprentice. There was much to see and do. Whilst the Autobot security forces were undoubtedly on the lookout on them, Jazz and Zoom-Zoom had already abandoned their conventional appearances, seamlessly blending hardlight matter, spark signature distortion via EM field manipulation, alternate transcanning and randomizing nannite coloration to achieve their new look. It normally required immense concentration to coordinate so many different and complex processes at the same time but the two mechs were quite accustomed to it and were able to manage quite easily.
-What are we doing here master?- Zoom-Zoom asked, falling in behind once again.
-Exploring. Hunting. Take your pick- Jazz answered dismissively.
-We’re pulling a cyber-ninja routine in a city that is looking for us,- Zoom-Zoom clarified flatly.
-Got it in one.-
-Are you being serious?-
-This will be an excellent training exercise for you.-
-…you cannot be serious.-
-Are you telling me you can’t do this?- Jazz asked scornfully.
Zoom-Zoom bristled at the dig at his abilities. -Of course I can. I’ll find more drones than you, you’ll see.-
-I’d like to see you try,- the ninjabot snorted doubtfully. His apprentice pushed past him, eager to start the challenge. Jazz reached out and tugged on his arm. -This is recon only and we’ll stick together.-
-I can take care of myself,- Zoom-Zoom was quick to assert.
-I don’t doubt that you can but I’d rather not take the risk.-
The red mech peered at his mentor curiously. -Are you actually concerned about me? I may have to purge.-
-You think too highly of yourself, half-bit.-
Zoom-Zoom settled back a step behind his master as they slowly drifted through the city, shamelessly hacking comm channels and listening in on private conversations. It made for depressing listening; the minibot could remember the orns when all he would pick up was idle gossip or mechs discussing their lives and businesses. Even the layers of communication was overly simplistic, the infonet was near dead and there were no great multi-tiered grids anymore, living cloud minds that would encompass an entire city. Not anymore, not after Praxus and the genocide wrought there.
Cybertronian society was fragmenting. It was no longer held together by the tight bonds that connected each individual to another. Everyone was afraid and distrustful of each other. The long-term effects of such dissociation for their species were…troubling. Frightening.
And what was perhaps slightly more worrying than that was that they couldn’t pick up any Quintesson infiltrators.
“Everyone’s on their guard, do you think the drones were all discovered?” Zoom-Zoom asked after several orns of fruitless surveillance.
His master was lazily sprawled out on a berth. They were currently sequestered in an abandoned apartment and taking a break from their efforts. Faint light powered up Jazz’s visor dimly and he lifted his helm to peer at his apprentice.
“Maybe,” Jazz grunted. “Not that discovery has ever bothered the Quintessons, they just keep sending more. There should have been something for us to find. No, I’m worried about this.”
The ninjabot lowered his helm. Zoom-Zoom waited for more information but nothing was forthcoming. “Well, what do you think happened?” he prodded.
The light flicked off in Jazz’s visor. “The drones have been getting progressively more advanced as the Quintessons perfected their techniques. It’s not too far an assumption that they are out there, we just can’t tell the difference.”
“But that’s always been speculation,” his apprentice protested. “We would have caught wind of such advancement from our spies on Quintessa. Someone would have told us, right?”
“Someone should have told us yes. Which makes me wonder about the state of the Corps right now,” Jazz said darkly. “I knew that quite a few were fragging idiots and got themselves involved in this stupid war but everything else sounded fine from the reports Roadhandler had been sending me.”
The ninjabot fell silent and Zoom-Zoom could recognise that he was brooding over something. A sensible mech would have chosen to leave him alone.
“Why didn’t we return to the Corps when Yoketron died?”
“Because I thought Dai Atlas and Devcon had everything under control,” the ninjabot snarled. “Obviously I overestimated their intelligence and capabilities. If we can’t even recognise the drones or we’ve lost contact with Quintessa, then we have a big problem.”
Big was an underestimation. Worst case scenario was a better description. Their society was tearing itself apart in a civil war whilst the Quintessons loomed menacingly in the background. Zoom-Zoom had been onlined in a free society but from the bits and pieces that Jazz had let slip, he knew the history texts had never captured just how dark Quintesson rule had been.
He hesitated for a moment as he watched his master struggle with self-recrimination and guilt that he should have involved himself with the Corps more. “I’m not sure you’d have made much of a difference,” he spoke up at last. Jazz raised himself up, a feral look on his face and Zoom-Zoom shrinked back unconsciously on himself. “You…you work best independently and out in the field. You’d have been driven insane by the inactivity and then decimated the Corps ranks.” He gave a weak smile. “And then, where would we be?”
Jazz gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no point ruminating of what we should have done.” He levered himself up and off the berth. “Come on half-bit; let’s give this city another sweep.”
They were gone, all gone.
Zoom-Zoom could remember these streets; they were the ones he’d walked back when he was Alpha Trion’s shadow. He remembered the Empties, desperate and dying for Energon and yet very few mechs would dare bridge that divide between them and show them mercy.
And now these streets were empty. Not a single spark in sight. Had they been killed by the war or had they died from energon deprivation long before it had started?
“You alright there, mech?”
Zoom-Zoom gave his master a startled glance as he turned his attention to him. “What? No, I’m fine.”
“Of course you’re fine,” Jazz said with a benevolent nod. “That’s why you’re growling at the wall. You do that all the time.”
The apprentice sighed and gave an uncomfortable rev. “I…we haven’t seen Trion for a long time. Can we swing past his place?”
Jazz twisted and fixed an unerring look on Zoom-Zoom for a very long time, a serious expression of his face. The red mech fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze. “What?”
The ninjabot turned away from him. “…what makes you even think he’s still here?” he asked lowly.
Zoom-Zoom gaped at him for an astrosecond in numb disbelief. His former master would be fine. Had to be fine. It was inconceivable that an ill fate had befallen him. Zoom-Zoom would not consider it all. Alpha Trion had always been strong, wise, invulnerable and eternal.
Jazz took in his apprentice. “I meant that he’s probably moved away,” he clarified quickly. “Things were getting tough on him last time we saw him.”
“He wouldn’t leave Iacon,” Zoom-Zoom shook his head. “There’s too much tying him here.”
The cyber ninja’s face tightened in doubt then he stood back and gestured for his apprentice to move on. “Lead the way then.”
It was a sombre march through Iacon’s streets. The amount of devastation had finally sunk into Zoom-Zoom’s core and it was difficult to look at familiar shops, parks and offices and to see them gutted by the war. His master seemed thoroughly unaffected by it; he walked right past a demolished bar they had liked to frequent for the high grade without twitching or giving any sign of recognition.
-Doesn’t this bother you?- Zoom-Zoom tightbeamed as they were swept up again into the crowds.
Jazz tilted his helm and casted a look around at their abysmal surroundings. -Not particularly no. I’ve seen worse than this. If anything, I’m annoyed at the pointless waste of life.-
The red mech withdrew and they continued on in silence, until they reached the quadrant Trion’s old apartment was located in. They detoured down into the sewers, taking a twisting path that would have confused anyone that had followed them until they came upon a secret entrance that very beings knew about.
Zoom-Zoom keyed in his access code on a concealed door pad and was relieved that the door opened. It was a good sign, if anything. He stepped inside the hallway and it felt like he had stepped back in time and he was a newly sparked mech again, desperate to gain his master’s approval but unable to grasp the true meanings of Trion’s teachings.
-You alright?- Jazz asked as he carefully sealed the door shut again. His apprentice had his forehead and servos pressed lightly against the wall as he centred himself.
-I…guess that a lot of things have changed,- he answered quietly. -It’s just hitting me now. This place doesn’t look like it’s changed at all.-
Jazz watched him for another moment, reserving his own opinion that they hadn’t seen the rest of the apartment to make any such judgement. Then he deactivated all the systems altering his appearance and his apprentice did the same a moment later. Jazz turned his attention to their surroundings, running a basic sensor scan. It came back negative, no spark signature, but in the world of the cyber ninja and the war torn Cybertron that didn’t mean much. A mech could have the appropriate dampening stealth systems hiding them away from the world.
Or there could be an inactive drone.
-Keep your guard up,- he ordered curtly as he dampened his spark signature. It would be a pity for them to be caught off-guard and killed because they felt comfortable here. -We’ll have a look around, though I don’t think he’s here. Perhaps we could find some trace of where he went.-
They moved carefully into the apartment but it looked like Zoom-Zoom’s initial assessment was correct, the place looked untouched. As though Alpha Trion had simply upped and left his home in the middle of his normal routine. It was eerie and disconcerting, the place was meticulously clean and sparse like it was just waiting for its owner to came back and reclaim it.
It wasn’t surprising that there were no squatters here, like they had discovered in other abandoned buildings. The master coder had an impressive security system that would give even an advance cyber ninja such as Jazz extreme difficulty to get through. And Alpha Trion had lived in obscurity, very few mechs knew where exactly he lived or how to even get there.
-Zoom-Zoom?-
-My half is clear.-
-Same here. This level is empty.-
-His lab?-
Jazz smirked. -Slag yes. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to break in there?-
-…longer than I’ve been online, am I right?-
The ninjabot sighed, he’d walked right into that one. -Yes, Zoom-Zoom. It’s been that long.-
-You said it, not me.-
They descended down the stairs to the lower level of the apartment. But when they reached the bottom, they came upon something that immediately put them on their guard.
-The lab door is never open,- Zoom-Zoom said.
-I know. Stay here and cover me.-
Zoom-Zoom activated his weapon systems and backed slightly up the stairs and took cover as his master slunk down by the wall, a hardlight hologram shimmering into place to conceal him. He vanished completely from all sensors save from the link connecting his spark to Zoom-Zoom’s.
Jazz hadn’t reached the door when they heard the approaching footsteps. They both moved back as a spark signature suddenly appeared on their sensors, pulsing strong and bright when it had previously been muted.
Or perhaps dormant was a better descriptor.
A mech emerged at the doorway. He was tall, a lot larger than both mechs by the stairs, a vibrant blue and red paintjob adorned his frame and there was power in his every movement.
“Is someone there?” Optimus Prime called out politely.
After a moment’s pause, Jazz’s hologram flicked off and he stepped forward into the other mech’s line of sight. “Orion Pax,” he said calmly. “Should have realised you were still about.”
Recognition sparked in Optimus’s optics as he took in the ninjabot. “Jazz,” he acknowledged then he tilted his helm to study the mech. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I take it Zoom-Zoom is with you.”
Jazz glanced behind him at his apprentice who frozen in position. “Yeah, the half-bit’s here. Thought we’d drop in and see if Trion was about but by the looks of things, the mech has moved on. Am I right?”
Optimus exhaled slowly. “Indeed,” he admitted. “He left a short while before I took up the Matrix though he did not tell me where he was going. War is not his nature.”
The ninjabot snorted in dark amusement at that but did not deign to comment on that. “Hey, half-bit, come down and say hello,” he waved Zoom-Zoom down.
The red mech sidled down reluctantly, glowering all the while at the Prime. “Hey,” he acknowledged shortly. “You sure you don’t know where he is?”
“Brat,” Jazz warned, well-tuned to his apprentice’s moods and pettiness.
The Prime straightened, recognising Zoom-Zoom’s hostility. “He gave no indication that he was even going to leave,” Optimus said firmly.
Zoom-Zoom sneered at this. “The mech gives you free run of his lab and doesn’t tell his star pupil where he’s going? And I’m supposed to believe this?” he stomped up the stairs and away.
Optimus turned a faintly concerned look to the ninjabot in front of him. “During my apprenticeship the lab was always open to us,” he stated slowly. “And now, with the war, I find myself spending time here when I’m in need of peace.”
“Don’t mind him,” Jazz said with annoyance. “He’s a jealous idiot who’s been stuck at the same level of maturity in all the time I’ve known him and yet he still wonders why Alpha Trion had so much difficulty teaching him.”
The Prime accepted this with a hesitant nod. He did not know the ninjabot and his apprentice well but he’d have to blind not to see the hostility Zoom-Zoom bore towards him. “You are well, otherwise?” he asked, moving on. “Alpha Trion assured me that you would be fine but we never heard back from you.”
Jazz snorted. “Typical Trion. We tracked your assassins down, wiped out the entire ring but we couldn’t find out who put a price on your helms. We let him know when we were done but I guess he didn’t bother passing the message on. Not that it matters now,” he added sourly, staring at Optimus. “Megatron’s put an enormous target on your helm and there’s not a thing that I can do about that.”
“Are you certain about that?” Optimus asked earnestly. “A mech of your calibre-”
The ninjabot raised a finger and pointed it warningly at him. “No,” he said firmly. “Don’t even think about asking me that. The Corps remains neutral no matter the politics of Cybertron.”
“Some of your number did not agree with that,” Prime countered.
“And look where it got them, dead and I’m pretty certain that the Corps is now falling apart. You seen any of the high ups recently? Surely Dai Atlas has been in contact with you. The mech is a stickler for our traditions and regulations.”
Optimus looked thoughtful and worried. “Communication with the Corps has been steadily decreasing over the vorns. However, I do have a specialist amongst my number, a mech called Blaster, who is skilled at coaxing out information that most would have thought hidden. Perhaps he might have something for you.”
Jazz examined his claws with an air of boredom as he went over this information. “That’s generous of you. Is there something you want from me?”
“If you will not consider the Autobots, then I would rather that you could find out what is happening to the cyber ninja ranks. I understand your vow of neutrality…but I hope that you would at least give me word we do not need to worry about invasion from off world.”
The ninjabot gave him a serious nod, recognising the reasonableness of the request. “Fair enough. Am I allowed to steal Blaster away while I go looking for my missing ninjabots?”
“I find such a thing highly unlikely,” The Prime was firm. “You’ll find that Blaster’s hatred for the Decepticons is near fanatical. You’d not be able to sway him to your cause.”
The ninjabot gathered himself up to leave. “Well, this has been great but I’ve got things to do, mechs to find, apprentices to kick in the head and armies that I’m not going to join. I’ll see you around. Hopefully, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
He climbed the stairs, then paused at the top and glanced down. “By the way, you really need to improve the security in your brig. It’s terrible.”
Before Optimus could respond, Jazz had vanished.
END
FINALLYThe plot following Jazz picks up here: Wandering Astray.
A/N: Yes confusing plot is confusing and I'm referencing events I haven't written about yet. But I go where the muse goes and this is where it's heading.
If you have no idea what happened in the beginning of this chapter, read part five.
Wondering where we are? Check out the timeline.
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
More mentions of things that I really need to write about. Ah well. I'll get there someday never.
The Hermit in the Wilds
….What the slag are you doing?
-Don’t start. Seriously, do not START.-
No, I think I have a right to know.
-Just give me the self-diagnostic. Without the attitude, without talking back or I’ll
You’ll what? Hack me? I’ll have you know my most basic firewalls are at least triple layered and medic grade. Try to touch me and I’ll shred your mind before you’ve even finished the thought.
-Look. Stop being ridiculous. You don’t have any firewalls. You are a glitch, a construct, a fragging ghost in Prowl’s slagged up processor that has integrated into his diagnostic protocols. I, on the other hand, have all those aforementioned medic grade safeguards. Do not tempt me to try to reinstall those protocols and erase you from existence.-
Who the slag do you think you are? I am Ratchet, the Head medic at Iacon Hospital! You, half-bit, are under my authority!
-...-
That’s what I thought. But keeping talking back to me, I’ll have you sent back to med school!
-…Prowl. Seriously. I know you are online and quite possibly laughing at me. Tell him to give me the slagging diagnostic report.-
As you wish, Ratchet.
-…-
-…I hate that slagger.-
The self-diagnostic protocol bristled then subsided at Prowl’s command. Ratchet’s presence shifted awkwardly inside his processor as he went over the report. He couldn’t settle comfortably besides Prowl’s mind, it was jagged and sharp and Ratchet instead had to try and fit in between the edges.
-The Decepticons hacked you?- Ratchet sounded dubious at this course of action.
They tried to.
-Ah. How well did it end for them?-
They died.
-Not a surprising outcome. What about your…rescuers?-
As far as I am aware, they did nothing to my processor.
-Ironhide reckons the silver one is a skilled hacker.-
That matches with what they told me.
Ratchet sent a pulse of disgruntled acknowledgement then turned his attention to the state of Prowl’s mind -I’ve repaired your frame,- he said. -I’m quite frankly amazed you did not fall apart on your way here and I will deconstruct the mech that made your repairs. Anyway all that’s left is checking the state of your processors. Is there any way for you to quiet down your horde?-
Prowl considered this for a moment, Yoketron’s assertion that he was capable of clearing his mind flickered briefly to attention. It was extremely disconcerting for Ratchet to try and scan his mind, the data came scrambled and inconclusive due to Ratchet’s own inability to maintain focus whilst being swamped by a multitude of glitches, each convinced of their own life and personality. Actually…
-Prowl?- through the uplink, Ratchet had managed to catch the faint worry that had arisen in his patient.
Ratchet…I think my processor damage has gotten worse.
-Worse? How?- Ratchet’s presence was suddenly sharp and cold, the epitome of medical detachment.
One…one of the ghosts, Yoketron’s memory print, has being talking to me. Telling me things that I never knew, information I could not have known.
Prowl struggled briefly as he accessed his memory core and tried to transfer files to the medic so that he could understand. -Easy,- Ratchet cautioned as he accepted the files, damaged and near unreadable like everything else in Prowl’s processor. The encryption only made sense here because they were inside the tactician’s mind. Ratchet could view the files and make his own memories of them, but if he tried accessing the original files without being plugged into Prowl, they would read as complete gibberish.
-Well…-Ratchet began slowly as he went through Prowl’s memories for the previous three decacyles. -I haven’t ever heard of a medical case anything like this. But then again, much of your situation is unprecedented so that’s hardly surprising. Your master…he was a cyber-ninja. They were known to experiment with their sparks and this sounds like something they'd get up to. If anything, I should be the one asking you if you know anything about this.-
Prowl’s mind flicked to Jazz. The mech was a master in the Corps; he undoubtedly would have known the advanced techniques that Yoketron had never had a chance to show him. Perhaps he would know what was going on. But every attempt to speak cordially with him had not ended well, the ninjabot was on edge around him and Prowl could recognise that only the slightest amount of restraint had been keeping him alive.
But well…that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t speak to Jazz.
-Prowl?-
Perhaps Jazz knows more, he replied. You could ask him.
-Hmph, for all the good it does us,- Ratchet settled back as he quickly reviewed Prowl’s memories on the ninjabot. -He’s already escaped.-
Prowl was not unduly surprised to hear this. In fact, he’d have been rather surprised if he’d learned that Jazz and Zoom-Zoom hadn’t escaped.
Anything else I should know?
-You are on leave for the next few orns to let your repairs integrate. Ironide wants your processor deep-scanned but that’s because he’s mildly paranoid. I’ll get to that in a little while after I’ve made the necessary preparations. When I’m convinced you somewhat functional, you’ll be debriefed by Optimus…assuming he’s back by then.-
Alarm spiked through Prowl’s systems. Where’s Prime?
-He’s out…somewhere. Gave Ironhide the slip but left a message with the appropriate code words that meant he was okay and this was something he did under his own free will.-
Oh.
-He is so dead when he gets back.-
Iacon, in all its war torn glory, still looked familiar to Jazz’s optics. The damaged and in some cases, completely destroyed buildings, the palpable aura of fear and misery that hung over the city, the way mechs in the streets avoided each optics. Everyone was heavily armour and armed, defensive and on high alert for the slightest sign of aggression. And yet he recognised it still despite its changes.
Perhaps it was because he’d seen it once like this so many vorns ago.
You fought against our kind once when Megatronus threatened all that we achieved. Why do you hesitate to do so again?
Zoom-Zoom was a step behind his master, keeping an optic out as they scuttled through the subdued crowds. He was unprepared when Jazz stopped suddenly and he walked into his master’s back.
-Hey!- he tightbeamed, unwillingly to speak aloud and risk being overheard. -What was that for?-
Jazz remained still for a moment as he focused on his spark. He found the ripples of Yoketron’s presence, alert and semi-aware due to Zoom-Zoom’s close proximity. With the detached calmness of a cyber-ninja, he carefully slowed and stilled the part of his spark.
Yoketron’s voice finally fell silent inside his mind.
Immensely cheered by this, Jazz moved on without replying to his apprentice. There was much to see and do. Whilst the Autobot security forces were undoubtedly on the lookout on them, Jazz and Zoom-Zoom had already abandoned their conventional appearances, seamlessly blending hardlight matter, spark signature distortion via EM field manipulation, alternate transcanning and randomizing nannite coloration to achieve their new look. It normally required immense concentration to coordinate so many different and complex processes at the same time but the two mechs were quite accustomed to it and were able to manage quite easily.
-What are we doing here master?- Zoom-Zoom asked, falling in behind once again.
-Exploring. Hunting. Take your pick- Jazz answered dismissively.
-We’re pulling a cyber-ninja routine in a city that is looking for us,- Zoom-Zoom clarified flatly.
-Got it in one.-
-Are you being serious?-
-This will be an excellent training exercise for you.-
-…you cannot be serious.-
-Are you telling me you can’t do this?- Jazz asked scornfully.
Zoom-Zoom bristled at the dig at his abilities. -Of course I can. I’ll find more drones than you, you’ll see.-
-I’d like to see you try,- the ninjabot snorted doubtfully. His apprentice pushed past him, eager to start the challenge. Jazz reached out and tugged on his arm. -This is recon only and we’ll stick together.-
-I can take care of myself,- Zoom-Zoom was quick to assert.
-I don’t doubt that you can but I’d rather not take the risk.-
The red mech peered at his mentor curiously. -Are you actually concerned about me? I may have to purge.-
-You think too highly of yourself, half-bit.-
Zoom-Zoom settled back a step behind his master as they slowly drifted through the city, shamelessly hacking comm channels and listening in on private conversations. It made for depressing listening; the minibot could remember the orns when all he would pick up was idle gossip or mechs discussing their lives and businesses. Even the layers of communication was overly simplistic, the infonet was near dead and there were no great multi-tiered grids anymore, living cloud minds that would encompass an entire city. Not anymore, not after Praxus and the genocide wrought there.
Cybertronian society was fragmenting. It was no longer held together by the tight bonds that connected each individual to another. Everyone was afraid and distrustful of each other. The long-term effects of such dissociation for their species were…troubling. Frightening.
And what was perhaps slightly more worrying than that was that they couldn’t pick up any Quintesson infiltrators.
“Everyone’s on their guard, do you think the drones were all discovered?” Zoom-Zoom asked after several orns of fruitless surveillance.
His master was lazily sprawled out on a berth. They were currently sequestered in an abandoned apartment and taking a break from their efforts. Faint light powered up Jazz’s visor dimly and he lifted his helm to peer at his apprentice.
“Maybe,” Jazz grunted. “Not that discovery has ever bothered the Quintessons, they just keep sending more. There should have been something for us to find. No, I’m worried about this.”
The ninjabot lowered his helm. Zoom-Zoom waited for more information but nothing was forthcoming. “Well, what do you think happened?” he prodded.
The light flicked off in Jazz’s visor. “The drones have been getting progressively more advanced as the Quintessons perfected their techniques. It’s not too far an assumption that they are out there, we just can’t tell the difference.”
“But that’s always been speculation,” his apprentice protested. “We would have caught wind of such advancement from our spies on Quintessa. Someone would have told us, right?”
“Someone should have told us yes. Which makes me wonder about the state of the Corps right now,” Jazz said darkly. “I knew that quite a few were fragging idiots and got themselves involved in this stupid war but everything else sounded fine from the reports Roadhandler had been sending me.”
The ninjabot fell silent and Zoom-Zoom could recognise that he was brooding over something. A sensible mech would have chosen to leave him alone.
“Why didn’t we return to the Corps when Yoketron died?”
“Because I thought Dai Atlas and Devcon had everything under control,” the ninjabot snarled. “Obviously I overestimated their intelligence and capabilities. If we can’t even recognise the drones or we’ve lost contact with Quintessa, then we have a big problem.”
Big was an underestimation. Worst case scenario was a better description. Their society was tearing itself apart in a civil war whilst the Quintessons loomed menacingly in the background. Zoom-Zoom had been onlined in a free society but from the bits and pieces that Jazz had let slip, he knew the history texts had never captured just how dark Quintesson rule had been.
He hesitated for a moment as he watched his master struggle with self-recrimination and guilt that he should have involved himself with the Corps more. “I’m not sure you’d have made much of a difference,” he spoke up at last. Jazz raised himself up, a feral look on his face and Zoom-Zoom shrinked back unconsciously on himself. “You…you work best independently and out in the field. You’d have been driven insane by the inactivity and then decimated the Corps ranks.” He gave a weak smile. “And then, where would we be?”
Jazz gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no point ruminating of what we should have done.” He levered himself up and off the berth. “Come on half-bit; let’s give this city another sweep.”
They were gone, all gone.
Zoom-Zoom could remember these streets; they were the ones he’d walked back when he was Alpha Trion’s shadow. He remembered the Empties, desperate and dying for Energon and yet very few mechs would dare bridge that divide between them and show them mercy.
And now these streets were empty. Not a single spark in sight. Had they been killed by the war or had they died from energon deprivation long before it had started?
“You alright there, mech?”
Zoom-Zoom gave his master a startled glance as he turned his attention to him. “What? No, I’m fine.”
“Of course you’re fine,” Jazz said with a benevolent nod. “That’s why you’re growling at the wall. You do that all the time.”
The apprentice sighed and gave an uncomfortable rev. “I…we haven’t seen Trion for a long time. Can we swing past his place?”
Jazz twisted and fixed an unerring look on Zoom-Zoom for a very long time, a serious expression of his face. The red mech fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze. “What?”
The ninjabot turned away from him. “…what makes you even think he’s still here?” he asked lowly.
Zoom-Zoom gaped at him for an astrosecond in numb disbelief. His former master would be fine. Had to be fine. It was inconceivable that an ill fate had befallen him. Zoom-Zoom would not consider it all. Alpha Trion had always been strong, wise, invulnerable and eternal.
Jazz took in his apprentice. “I meant that he’s probably moved away,” he clarified quickly. “Things were getting tough on him last time we saw him.”
“He wouldn’t leave Iacon,” Zoom-Zoom shook his head. “There’s too much tying him here.”
The cyber ninja’s face tightened in doubt then he stood back and gestured for his apprentice to move on. “Lead the way then.”
It was a sombre march through Iacon’s streets. The amount of devastation had finally sunk into Zoom-Zoom’s core and it was difficult to look at familiar shops, parks and offices and to see them gutted by the war. His master seemed thoroughly unaffected by it; he walked right past a demolished bar they had liked to frequent for the high grade without twitching or giving any sign of recognition.
-Doesn’t this bother you?- Zoom-Zoom tightbeamed as they were swept up again into the crowds.
Jazz tilted his helm and casted a look around at their abysmal surroundings. -Not particularly no. I’ve seen worse than this. If anything, I’m annoyed at the pointless waste of life.-
The red mech withdrew and they continued on in silence, until they reached the quadrant Trion’s old apartment was located in. They detoured down into the sewers, taking a twisting path that would have confused anyone that had followed them until they came upon a secret entrance that very beings knew about.
Zoom-Zoom keyed in his access code on a concealed door pad and was relieved that the door opened. It was a good sign, if anything. He stepped inside the hallway and it felt like he had stepped back in time and he was a newly sparked mech again, desperate to gain his master’s approval but unable to grasp the true meanings of Trion’s teachings.
-You alright?- Jazz asked as he carefully sealed the door shut again. His apprentice had his forehead and servos pressed lightly against the wall as he centred himself.
-I…guess that a lot of things have changed,- he answered quietly. -It’s just hitting me now. This place doesn’t look like it’s changed at all.-
Jazz watched him for another moment, reserving his own opinion that they hadn’t seen the rest of the apartment to make any such judgement. Then he deactivated all the systems altering his appearance and his apprentice did the same a moment later. Jazz turned his attention to their surroundings, running a basic sensor scan. It came back negative, no spark signature, but in the world of the cyber ninja and the war torn Cybertron that didn’t mean much. A mech could have the appropriate dampening stealth systems hiding them away from the world.
Or there could be an inactive drone.
-Keep your guard up,- he ordered curtly as he dampened his spark signature. It would be a pity for them to be caught off-guard and killed because they felt comfortable here. -We’ll have a look around, though I don’t think he’s here. Perhaps we could find some trace of where he went.-
They moved carefully into the apartment but it looked like Zoom-Zoom’s initial assessment was correct, the place looked untouched. As though Alpha Trion had simply upped and left his home in the middle of his normal routine. It was eerie and disconcerting, the place was meticulously clean and sparse like it was just waiting for its owner to came back and reclaim it.
It wasn’t surprising that there were no squatters here, like they had discovered in other abandoned buildings. The master coder had an impressive security system that would give even an advance cyber ninja such as Jazz extreme difficulty to get through. And Alpha Trion had lived in obscurity, very few mechs knew where exactly he lived or how to even get there.
-Zoom-Zoom?-
-My half is clear.-
-Same here. This level is empty.-
-His lab?-
Jazz smirked. -Slag yes. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to break in there?-
-…longer than I’ve been online, am I right?-
The ninjabot sighed, he’d walked right into that one. -Yes, Zoom-Zoom. It’s been that long.-
-You said it, not me.-
They descended down the stairs to the lower level of the apartment. But when they reached the bottom, they came upon something that immediately put them on their guard.
-The lab door is never open,- Zoom-Zoom said.
-I know. Stay here and cover me.-
Zoom-Zoom activated his weapon systems and backed slightly up the stairs and took cover as his master slunk down by the wall, a hardlight hologram shimmering into place to conceal him. He vanished completely from all sensors save from the link connecting his spark to Zoom-Zoom’s.
Jazz hadn’t reached the door when they heard the approaching footsteps. They both moved back as a spark signature suddenly appeared on their sensors, pulsing strong and bright when it had previously been muted.
Or perhaps dormant was a better descriptor.
A mech emerged at the doorway. He was tall, a lot larger than both mechs by the stairs, a vibrant blue and red paintjob adorned his frame and there was power in his every movement.
“Is someone there?” Optimus Prime called out politely.
After a moment’s pause, Jazz’s hologram flicked off and he stepped forward into the other mech’s line of sight. “Orion Pax,” he said calmly. “Should have realised you were still about.”
Recognition sparked in Optimus’s optics as he took in the ninjabot. “Jazz,” he acknowledged then he tilted his helm to study the mech. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I take it Zoom-Zoom is with you.”
Jazz glanced behind him at his apprentice who frozen in position. “Yeah, the half-bit’s here. Thought we’d drop in and see if Trion was about but by the looks of things, the mech has moved on. Am I right?”
Optimus exhaled slowly. “Indeed,” he admitted. “He left a short while before I took up the Matrix though he did not tell me where he was going. War is not his nature.”
The ninjabot snorted in dark amusement at that but did not deign to comment on that. “Hey, half-bit, come down and say hello,” he waved Zoom-Zoom down.
The red mech sidled down reluctantly, glowering all the while at the Prime. “Hey,” he acknowledged shortly. “You sure you don’t know where he is?”
“Brat,” Jazz warned, well-tuned to his apprentice’s moods and pettiness.
The Prime straightened, recognising Zoom-Zoom’s hostility. “He gave no indication that he was even going to leave,” Optimus said firmly.
Zoom-Zoom sneered at this. “The mech gives you free run of his lab and doesn’t tell his star pupil where he’s going? And I’m supposed to believe this?” he stomped up the stairs and away.
Optimus turned a faintly concerned look to the ninjabot in front of him. “During my apprenticeship the lab was always open to us,” he stated slowly. “And now, with the war, I find myself spending time here when I’m in need of peace.”
“Don’t mind him,” Jazz said with annoyance. “He’s a jealous idiot who’s been stuck at the same level of maturity in all the time I’ve known him and yet he still wonders why Alpha Trion had so much difficulty teaching him.”
The Prime accepted this with a hesitant nod. He did not know the ninjabot and his apprentice well but he’d have to blind not to see the hostility Zoom-Zoom bore towards him. “You are well, otherwise?” he asked, moving on. “Alpha Trion assured me that you would be fine but we never heard back from you.”
Jazz snorted. “Typical Trion. We tracked your assassins down, wiped out the entire ring but we couldn’t find out who put a price on your helms. We let him know when we were done but I guess he didn’t bother passing the message on. Not that it matters now,” he added sourly, staring at Optimus. “Megatron’s put an enormous target on your helm and there’s not a thing that I can do about that.”
“Are you certain about that?” Optimus asked earnestly. “A mech of your calibre-”
The ninjabot raised a finger and pointed it warningly at him. “No,” he said firmly. “Don’t even think about asking me that. The Corps remains neutral no matter the politics of Cybertron.”
“Some of your number did not agree with that,” Prime countered.
“And look where it got them, dead and I’m pretty certain that the Corps is now falling apart. You seen any of the high ups recently? Surely Dai Atlas has been in contact with you. The mech is a stickler for our traditions and regulations.”
Optimus looked thoughtful and worried. “Communication with the Corps has been steadily decreasing over the vorns. However, I do have a specialist amongst my number, a mech called Blaster, who is skilled at coaxing out information that most would have thought hidden. Perhaps he might have something for you.”
Jazz examined his claws with an air of boredom as he went over this information. “That’s generous of you. Is there something you want from me?”
“If you will not consider the Autobots, then I would rather that you could find out what is happening to the cyber ninja ranks. I understand your vow of neutrality…but I hope that you would at least give me word we do not need to worry about invasion from off world.”
The ninjabot gave him a serious nod, recognising the reasonableness of the request. “Fair enough. Am I allowed to steal Blaster away while I go looking for my missing ninjabots?”
“I find such a thing highly unlikely,” The Prime was firm. “You’ll find that Blaster’s hatred for the Decepticons is near fanatical. You’d not be able to sway him to your cause.”
The ninjabot gathered himself up to leave. “Well, this has been great but I’ve got things to do, mechs to find, apprentices to kick in the head and armies that I’m not going to join. I’ll see you around. Hopefully, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
He climbed the stairs, then paused at the top and glanced down. “By the way, you really need to improve the security in your brig. It’s terrible.”
Before Optimus could respond, Jazz had vanished.
END
FINALLYThe plot following Jazz picks up here: Wandering Astray.
A/N: Yes confusing plot is confusing and I'm referencing events I haven't written about yet. But I go where the muse goes and this is where it's heading.
If you have no idea what happened in the beginning of this chapter, read part five.
Wondering where we are? Check out the timeline.