Darkened: The hermit in the wilds (Part 2/7)

[the_lost_robot]

Part one



The hermit in the wilds

Events are coming together, new spark. You are about to meet a very old acquaintance.

Yoketron flowed through a basic defense kata, then held the last pose, forearms raised at both sides as if he was defending himself from two attackers. Prowl stepped through the door into a corrupted memory file. Chunks of the dojo were missing, parts of the walls, the floor, the ceiling simply ended into nothing but pure code. It would be disconcerting to any mech but Prowl was long acclimated to the damage inside his mind.

He frowned at the ghost. How can you know what is happening? You’re just a memory, a fragment inside my processor.

The cyber ninja smiled at him. I thought I taught you better than that. The world is not as simple as you make it to be. Who is to say that all that I am was lost? He relaxed and dropped the pose, then moved towards Prowl and placed a servo gently above his spark. You carried a piece of me. Lockdown could never take that away from you.

You are dead! Prowl rejected. He could remember it, a bright spike of pain that had flared through the spark of the enforcer-that-was as one of his connections had been lost. Everyone in here is dead! Even…

...Even me.

And this is new to you? Is it too much to comprehend that death may not necessarily be the end of a spark? Do you remember when your predecessor, the enforcer, first onlined? He held within his spark half an entire existence.

But he could ignore it! It was written in his spark and so he never looked inside himself. I can’t do that. You are here; all of you are here inside my processor. I can’t even think without hearing all your voices.

Have you forgotten your training? Yoketron chided him. If you truly wanted silence, all you ever had to do was focus. We would have left without protest.

No! Prowl flinched at the thought. Could he really live with no one else inside his processor?

Ah, you see? You are not prepared to be alone yet, that is why we remain. The ghost turned him to face the doorway. Be careful out there, old one. The mech that you are about to meet will not be happy with you. He has suffered greatly through the actions of your previous existence.

The enforcer? Prowl found this unlikely. The enforcer had been fair and just.

Before. The existence that you would do well to never acknowledge. You already carry one dead mech’s burdens, you do not need another.

The dojo crumbled and the ghost vanished.

He came online to an unfamiliar voice.

“-neural readings are insane, I have no idea what’s causing them. I would jack in but seeing as the last mechs that did that are dead from terminal processor failure, I think I’ll pass on that. His firewalls must be really impressive, they probably rivals yours in fact. Heeey, he’s coming online, master. Are you going to punch him again?” the voice sounded rather hopeful at this. “Cuz, I gotta say, that was cool. And slightly psychotic and unnecessary given that the mech had critical damage levels. Hey, hey, hey, where are you going?”

He didn’t catch the reply as his audios fritzed for an astrosecond due his systems resetting. For a few astroseconds, he just listened to his own exvents as he marvelled the simple fact that he was still functioning.

“Hey, are you still with us?” he felt someone tap his faceplates. “Please tell me you’re still online, you’ve been drifting in and out the last deca-cycle and I would appreciate it if you would finally wake up so my master would stop being so fragging moody.”

Prowl’s optics flickered on and a bright red visored mini-bot came into view. A vaguely familiar visored mini-bot with sensor panels.

“What-?” he groaned roughly sitting himself upright as the ache of fresh repairs made themselves known. He’d been fixed, his legs replaced and a fresh patch of armour covered his spark chamber. They weren’t perfect, he could tell by the warnings that flickered through his processor, significantly weaker than what he previously had but workable. He glanced behind him and noted that both his sensors panels had been removed.

He took in the room, he was in a full equipped med-bay that was unfamiliar to him. The walls caught Prowl’s attention; it looked like natural rock, as if someone had hewn the room into solid stone. A strange puzzle and he wondered where he was, if he was still in the wastelands. At the very least, he was not with Decepticons and that was an improvement. He wasn't with the Autobots but one couldn't have everything.

“Finally,” the mini-bot sighed. “You have no idea how bored I was getting. My master’s normally a fun guy but ever since we rescued you, it’s like someone violently murdered his best friend and then mailed his helm back to him.”

The Autobot scoured his memory banks for all that he could recall of the mech in front of him. Obviously the mini-bot did not recognise him, it was to be expected as Prowl had gone through several frame upgrades, retrofits and reformats since then. They had not even spoken to each other. But the mech had attended the ceremony when the enforcer-that-was had been inducted into the ranks of the Cyber Ninja Corps. The mini-bot had come as a representative for someone, he could remember Vibes mentioning. Someone…but who...?

The mech was of high rank in the Corps, that Prowl could recall. Very high rank, Vibes had whispered later. One of the masters, Vibes had referred to him as the hermit in the wilds and he was the only master that had refused to attend the induction of Yoketron’s most promising student. That he had deigned to send his apprentice in his place was intended to be a snub. Why, the enforcer had never known, he had never even met the mech.

But…

The warning from Yoketron’s processor ghost flitted through his mind. That first existence, the one he had chosen to ignore, had dealt great damage to this unknown mech.

Or so his Yoketron’s ghost claimed. If it was true…the implications that it held for his own sanity were…unsettling. That was not knowledge that he had known. Thus far, he had thought of the ghosts as constructs based off the enforcer’s memories. That they were limited to what he remembered of the mech’s personality and his own knowledge.

If Yoketron was giving out information that only Yoketron had known…well.

He was truly haunted then.

“Heeey!” the mini-bot waved a servo in front of his optics. “Hello? Don’t you have any words of gratitude for me? You would have died if we hadn’t taken down those Decepticons. And then patch you all together again. They breached your spark chamber and uh. Wow, your spark is not a pretty sight. What did you do to it?”

Prowl focused on his rescuer. “Survived Praxus,” he intoned quietly.

The mech winced. “Uh. Sorry, I, well, we’ve been out of touch with the rest of Cybertron out here so it didn’t even occur to me. I didn’t even know anyone had survived that.”

“Just two,” Prowl answered; his voice empty of inflection.

“Um, really sorry, mech. I-uh, I’m just going to keep digging myself deeper if I keep talking,” the mini-bot shrunk in on himself as his field spread out in apology.

Whatever response he expected from Prowl, to either accept or ignore the offered comfort, he did not expect his EM field to completely wash over Prowl like the Autobot didn’t even exist. The mini-bot quirked a confused optic but decided not to comment on it.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” he asked, preparing to give an ID ping, “If you don’t mind me asking, of course. Just for the record, I’m not a Decepticon, though you do only have my word for that.”

“I believe you,” Prowl stated simply.

The mini-bot faltered, then brightened. “You do? Well, that’s excellent. Decepticons wouldn’t patch you up, right?”

Prowl shook his head slowly. “No, I know you,” he replied honestly.

The mini-bot’s cheerful disposition vanished in an astrosecond and then he had one hand tighly grasping Prowl’s throat and an energon dagger at Prowl’s neck instantly. “You do, do you?” he asked menacingly. “Who are you? And I would advise you to answer truthfully because you don’t want my master interrogating you right now.”

“Praxus,” Prowl gasped, “Saw you at- at my induction. Yoketron, Yoketron-”

“Oh,” and the pressure was gone and the mini-bot’s sensor panels sunk in apology. “You’re one of us. That should have been the first thing that you said, mech. You’re….Prowl, wasn’t it? That’s the only induction I ever attended. Mech, you have changed a lot since I last saw you.”

“Yes,” Prowl confirmed, grateful that the mech had remembered. So many of his comrades and friends from the Corps had already been lost to the war and this was a rare mech who shared the same background as him.

“I’m Zoom-Zoom,” the mech introduced himself cheerfully, pinged Prowl his full ID. This time he didn’t hide the concerned frown as his ping bounced of Prowl’s neural network without a response. Even if he had ignored it, there should have been a confirmation ping that he’d received the message at the very least. He pinged Prowl again.

And again.

There was no response.

That was more than a little worrying.

“Hmm,” Zoom-Zoom muttered. “There must have been some damage to your internal comm that the diagnostic scanner didn’t pick up. I can’t seem to ping you.”

“That’s not the fault of my internal comm,” Prowl answered softly. “I have…some processor damage.”

The mini-bot’s optics brightened. “So that’s the stuff that was giving the scanner fits. Uh…I’m a pretty good coder, if I say so myself. Onlined by A3 himself for that very purpose,” he said proudly. “I could have a go at it if you want.”

Prowl shook his head. “No, this is not just code corruption. All my wireless protocols have been wiped completely from my core codes and no signal can be routed through my processor. I am incapable of networking with other mechs and must rely on an external communicator for long distance communication.”

Zoom-Zoom stared in horror at the Autobot in front of him. “That’s…slag. That’s serious processor damage. Medics wouldn’t be able to fix that and I know I sure as pit can’t.”

Prowl gave an unbothered shrug. “The sentiment is still appreciated,” he answered neutrally. It did not bother him, truthfully. He was isolated and cut off from the rest of Cybertronian society, every protocol in his programming that would allow normal communication had been lost from his core codes during the Fall of Praxus. Most of his emotional codes had been lost as well and it was the only reason such isolation had not driven him insane.

Well.

Any more insane that he already was.

“But…” Zoom-Zoom looked thoughtful and slightly hopeful, “My master’s a code mech. He’s the highest level code mech in the Corps. And though he’s neeeever said it, I get the feeling he’s one of the original ones, all the way back from the uprising against the Quintessons. Nearly as good as A3. My master might be able to do something for you.”

Prowl tilted his helm in consideration. Yoketron’s voice chuckled quietly in his audio. He is that good. But getting him to help you will be no easy task…if you even want that help.

“Speaking of my master,” Zoom-Zoom straightened up suddenly. “You have got to explain this to me. What the frag did you do to him? He hates your very diodes like you would not believe and I can’t figure it out. I’ve been apprenticed to him looong before you ever came online and as far as I’m aware, you’ve never even met.” The mini-bot paused. “Unless you did. In secret.”

“I have never met him,” Prowl answered honestly.

“Well, there goes my theory that you insulted him to the pit and back. My master’s pretty easy going, I should know, we met after I rifled through his subspace in a crowd. Thought he didn’t notice me, ha, you have no idea how wrong I was. He-”

Zoom-Zoom’s vocaliser cut off and he fell silent, tilting his helm as he listened hard to something. “He wants a word with you. I’ll just be on my way now. Now remember, we did spend all this time patching you up, so he probably doesn’t intend to waste our resources by killing you. He’s just in a foul mood.”

The mini-bot scuttled to the door and then paused. “A very foul mood.”

On that ominous note, he departed.

Prowl did not have to wait long for his mysterious benefactor to appear. In that time, he had gone over various approaches he could take. He did not relish angering one of the few remaining masters of the Corps, well, in this case, any more than he had apparently.

Yoketron laughed gaily inside his processor. Be yourself, new spark. Do not be the old one and you will be fine. Just be honest and he will finally see what we have been telling him.

Prowl stalled at that. You talked to him about me?

We all did. All that knew your spark before and all that knew the enforcer after. His hate is set on a mech that died long ago. But he refused to come see what we all could see.

The tactician paused and focused on the ghost. You call me old one sometimes. And that’s what you call the…first existence. Then you tell me not to be him. Should I be concerned?

Mmmh. Your spark is very old. Should I refuse to acknowledge that?

Oh. Prowl sighed with relief. After a pause, he could not help but wonder; what are you, really?

The ghost chuckled but fell silent.

The door to the med-bay opened soon after and a small silver mech strode in. He was slightly bigger than Zoom-Zoom and he also wore a visor. His frame was otherwise unremarkable, it did not have any features distinctive to Cybertron’s main cities, meaning the mech could mingle and vanish in a crowd anywhere. As a master to the Corps, he probably did not even need that advantage his frame afforded.

The mech drew to a halt in front of Prowl and sized him up. Prowl returned the look as neutrally as he was able. They remained in silence for several breems until eventually Prowl wondered outloud, “Are you going to punch me again?”

“Depends,” the mech’s voice was a musical lilt. “I’m in half the mind to terminate you instead.”

Prowl hesitated for a moment. “I see,” he said. “May I be so bold as to inquire why…?”

The ninjabot frowned. “I think you slagging well know why. I can’t believe that you would dare play innocent with me, Counter Shift.”

An involuntary shiver went through Prowl as the name resonated within his spark. Careful new spark, Yoketron murmured. That’s a path you do not want to go down.

But, but the old one had been a counter-shift! They were an integral part of the mech uprising against the Quintessons, the name was given to those involved in a special operations by the Nebulans. They were revered by every cybertronian, they were-

Still mechs, Yoketron cut in sharply. Still susceptible to the weaknesses that lurks in every mech. Some more than others.

Inside his processor, Prowl flinched in rebuke. I…think I do not want to know this story.

Leave the past alone, new spark and attend to your future. He is quite impatient as it is.

Without a discernible pause, Prowl returned his attention to the world outside his processors. “I am afraid that I do not know any one by that function,” Prowl offered politely. “Though when I was initially online, it was determined that I possessed a coherent spark.”

The silver mech took a step closer to him and stared straight in his optics. “You really don’t know,” he marvelled. “And your spark…it’s definitely his.” The mech’s hand idly drifted up to his own spark chamber.

Prowl gave the mech a considering look. “You must have been very close to be able to retain spark recognition even after death,” he said neutrally.

The ninja recoiled in anger and then punched him hard in the faceplates. “You have no idea,” he spat bitterly. “You are looking at the reason why the med-bots know that there’s a limit of spark sync. The fragger very nearly took me with him when he died.”

Prowl vented sharply as he felt his throbbing face. Nothing felt broken so hopefully his self-repair could handle it but his plates hurt to the pit and back. “Oh.” Oh indeed. This…was a lot more complicated than he expected.

“Yes,” the mech drawled mockingly. “You can see why I’m a lil upset right now.”

Prowl hesitated. “I’m…sorry?” he apologized, optics dim.

The ninja snorted and turned away. “Not much point apologizing for something you didn’t do, mech. Don’t…” the mech sagged abruptly and sighed, “Don’t worry about it. It’s a whole big slagging mess of issues that I have no right to drag you into or project my anger at you. Yoketron and Vibes kept telling me to let it go, that you weren’t him and they were right. You're almost afraid of me. He never was. He didn't have need to be.” A dark edge slid into his voice at that last sentence.

After a pause, the mech offered a servo. “Name’s Jazz,” he said conversationally, marginally calmer now, “Also known as the hermit in the wilds to some of the other members in the Corps because I chose to live out in the slagging middle of nowhere. Drives Zoom-Zoom crazy but at least the mech keeps out of trouble here. I’m digressing anyway, for you, it’ll just be Jazz. What’s yours?”

“Prowl,” he answered.

Events are coming together, new spark. Just you wait and see.

Inside his processor, Yoketron smiled.

Part 3

A/N: I maay write some more of this. Maybe Jazz's side and/or a third chapter but at the moment, it's sitting complete. Zoom-Zoom is totally a real character (and Vibes too, in fact!) and whilst I would have loved to use him as a remote-Jazz drone (which would have been very interesting indeed!), he sadly grew a whole personality stewing away inside my brain. If I write anything anytime soon, it'll probably be Zoom-Zoom's backstory. Or crackverse door-wing symbionts.

>_>

Maybe Ricochet can be a Jazz-drone character instead?

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