Blanket of silence makes me wanna sink my teeth in deep
Burn all the evidence, a fabricated disbelief
Pull back the curtains took a look into your eyes
My tongue has now become a platform for your lies

-Cage the Elephant

"Prime?" That tone sounded so out of place. Optimus slowly looked at his 2IC. On his usually immaculate armor, shrapnel damage had left ugly scars that were waiting to be painted over, but compared to the rest of his team, Prowl was one of the best off. Ratchet had barely looked at him before sending him out of the medbay to let autorepair take care of the slight damages and leaks.

"What are we going to do?" he asked. Optimus was almost surprised to hear the lost, hollow tone of his voice. But then again, after a betrayal such as this, they were all reeling. He could tell Prowl was blaming himself for not seeing it sooner. Optimus couldn't deny that he was doing much of the same.

"I'm telling you, something isn't right," Ratchet said gruffly, his one remaining arm holding a cube of energon so tight it was denting the square edges.

"What ain't right about it?" Ironhide drawled. "Ya tried ta help 'im after that blast hit 'im and he ripped yer fraggin' arm off—"

"And then systematically took down everyone in sight with a few well-placed shots," Red Alert interrupted, his sensor horns sparking dangerously. "You can't say it was just a nasty knock to the head—there was no disorientation in that aim! It was deliberate and it was accurate. Bluestreak and Sideswipe are lucky to be alive right now—Hound will be in cryo for the next two weeks!"

Ratchet slammed the half empty cube down on the conference table, splattering pink over the surface. "Don't you think I fragging know that? I'm the one who had to patch everyone back together one handed and I'm still telling you something's wrong!" he snapped back, glaring at the Security Director. "Hate to inform you that your cameras don't see everything – but they obviously missed the look on that mech's face! He was terrified. Something on that battlefield scared the ever living slag out of him and let me ask you this—have you ever seen Jazz look scared before?" he said, glaring around the table. When no one answered he gave an angry huff of his vents. "Didn't think so."

A long silence stretched across the table and Optimus sighed, so quiet it was almost non-existent. "Regardless," Prowl said quietly. "Even if his attack was some sort of panic reaction… that doesn't explain why he willingly joined with the triple-changers to finish driving Superion back."

"He knew th' battle plan—he knew th' formations. We didn't stand a slaggin' chance with 'im barkin' orders like he was the ol' slagmaker himself," Ironhide said and sat back gingerly, careful of the still sore acid pellet wound that sprawled across his back like a welt.

Optimus retracted his face mask and rubbed his cheek. "We need to look at this from the beginning of the battle—if Ratchet's speculations are true, there has to be some explanation for his actions," Optimus said quietly.

"He drove in with me," Prowl said instantly. "He seemed… perfectly normal. He was talking to Bumblebee and Mirage. Preparing them mentally for the fight."

Optimus nodded. "We engaged the Decepticons a mile outside of the power plant. Did anyone see what happened then?" he asked and looked at Ratchet. The medic usually stayed towards the back for field injuries which also meant he usually saw more than the rest of them.

Ratchet shrugged. "It seemed like a pretty typical fight. We'd caught them off guard. I don't remember seeing him before he got hit but—"

"He was next to me the entire time," Prowl said. Optimus knew that the two of them usually fought side by side. Jazz's improvisation mixed with Prowl's battle computer were a very power combination—it was why he had made them his second and third in command in the first place. They worked well together and excelled where the other fell short.

"I saw Soundwave shoot off that mortar—Jazz must have seen it too," Ratchet said and rubbed his head.

Prowl swallowed and drummed his fingers on the table, a rare nervous habit others usually never saw. It paid testament to how this ordeal had rattled him. "He shoved me down and shielded me when the mortar hit. I got a little bit of shrapnel damage but Jazz's back was shredded because of it. He tried to keep fighting, but he just looked… so tired," he said. "I finally sent him to Ratchet."

Optimus nodded and looked at the medic. Ratchet shrugged. "His armor was slagged—there were a few deep cuts and he was leaking in a couple places but… he seemed distracted when I was working on him. He kept wincing, even when I wasn't touching him and then he just kind of… exploded." He shook his head. "I can't even describe it. It was like… flipping a light on. One second he was okay, the next, he was ripping my slagging arm off. He moved so damn fast, I couldn't do a thing about it." Ratchet ran a hand over his chevron. "Primus, the look on his face… I don't care what you say—that was the look of a cornered animal."

A long silence followed as everyone in the conference room digested the information, but it was Ironhide that spoke up first, his anger radiating in his voice. "Maybe, just maybe what he did on th' field could be excused—a lack o' judgment, or a-a panic attack or somethin'— if he had come back ta face up to what he did here," he said. "Did he come back with us after th' fight? No. He stayed with the enemy and went back to th' slaggin' Nemesis!" he growled and slammed his fist against the table. "He defected—that's all there is to it."

"From what I've watched on the recordings, I agree with Ironhide," Red Alert said and crossed his arms obstinately over his chassis before looking at Optimus. "Sir, after you called the retreat, my cameras recorded Jazz joining the Decepticons in siphoning off whatever energon they could from the power plant before retreating west, towards the Nemesis with their spoils," he said.

They all looked at him, searching for an answer, a decision. "What are we going to do, Optimus?" Prowl asked again.

Optimus rested his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his uncovered face. Only in their company did he ever remove his mask. It was a show of trust—a trust that had just been betrayed so harshly. He looked around at his officers before his optics settled on the empty chair that sat directly across from him. He sighed quietly and closed his optics, pushing his personal weariness and hurt aside for the good of the cause. When he opened his optics, the normal calm blue turned to ice as the Prime emerged.

"As of now, Jazz is considered a traitor to the Autobot cause," he said, his authority ringing in his voice, even though he barely spoke above a whisper. "He is hereby stripped of his rank as third in command and head of special operations. He is an extreme liability as his former rank and specialization made him privy to valuable intelligence. Our priority is capturing him and bringing him to the Ark to face justice… and hopefully find an explanation for all of this."

Soundwave led their new recruit through the halls of the Nemesis, heading from medical at Megatron's order. He had no doubt that Jazz knew where he was going—he had been here many times before, whether as a prisoner or a spy. Regardless, he now followed him like a shadow as they walked through the dark and dripping hallways far under the surface of the ocean. The smaller mech kept his head down as they walked into Megatron's conference room, though it was more accurate to call it a throne room. The Slagmaker sat on a raised pedestal while Starscream paced on the ground next to it, his wings held high and tense.

Soundwave bowed as he approached and watched as Jazz bent to one knee before the silver mech. Megatron looked pleased beyond words as he indulged in a cube of high grade, made from the excess spoils of their most recent battle. "It's been a long while since we've had high grade in the Nemesis," he said as he looked at the violently pink cube. "A luxury that wouldn't have been possible without your… intervention today."

Jazz was tense even as he knelt, the light of his visor narrowed into a glare. Soundwave had no need to pry into the mech's processor to feel the anger radiating off of him in waves. Megatron smirked and took an idle sip of his cube. "Soundwave said it was only a matter of time," he said. "I have to admit, I doubted him. But once again, Soundwave, you have gone above and beyond expectations. You will be rewarded for your efforts."

Soundwave couldn't help but smile behind his mask. "Jazz's presence, only reward necessary," he said. Jazz's dentals were grit so tightly, Soundwave could hear the metal grinding from where he stood next to him.

Megatron grinned wolfishly and set his cube down on his armrest. "Head of Autobot special operations and third-in-command, social butterfly—privy to all the insider information in the Ark," Megatron continued. "Not to mention an experienced saboteur and spy. You are very welcome here, Jazz."

He finished off his cube before tossing the empty container to Starscream who scowled even as he caught it.

"This is unwise," the seeker growled. "There's no telling how strong of a—"

"Silence, Starscream," Megatron snapped. "Jazz's presence here is a gift. We'll do well to make use of him." Starscream was visibly restraining himself but, to his credit, he kept his silence. Megatron got to his feet and stepped down from his throne, heavy footfalls echoing in the silence chamber. "Rise."

Jazz slowly got to his feet, moving like a weight was pressing down on his shoulders. He stood in front of the mech, face lifted up defiantly to stare him down, even though Megatron towered over him. The silver mech smirk as he looked him over before one big hand reached up and scraped down Jazz's chassis, effectively destroying the Autobot symbol painted on the surface and leaving long gouges in his armor. Jazz didn't even flinch.

Megatron looked a little disappointed. "Soundwave, why don't you show our newest recruit to his new quarters?" he said.

Soundwave nodded and bowed before turning to leave. Jazz was quick to follow, but Megatron stopped him. "Aren't you forgetting something, Jazz?" Megatron asked, voice soft and condescending.

Jazz turned to face the mech again, his face carefully blank even as he bowed low. "Thank ya for your benevolence, m' Lord," he said flatly. "I'll be sure it's repaid equally." Megatron smirked and Soundwave knew he didn't hear the threat of a promise in the mech's words.

The defiant stance was gone as soon as they exited the throne room, leaving Jazz withered and tired looking, shoulders slumped and head down. He followed Soundwave silently through the dark halls until they reached the brig. Soundwave opened a cell and motioned for Jazz to step inside. The mech twitched, his hands clenching into fists at his side before he obliged, stepping into the cell like he was walking into a tomb. Soundwave closed the doors and activated the energy bars, peering in at their new guest and allowing himself to relax for the first time that day.

Jazz relaxed as well and cracked his knuckles, shaking himself off like a dog shaking off water. His visor flashed as he looked out at Soundwave. Slowly, he stepped towards him, wrapping his hands around the bars. They sparked and flashed where the energy met his hand but Jazz held on, apparently not feeling the pain. He looked at Soundwave with such a look of loathing, the tape deck felt something almost akin to guilt pang at his system. He brushed it aside quickly. This was war. It had been for millennia.

Jazz tightened his grip on the bars, making them spark and flash brighter, illuminating his face in stark detail. "Before this is over, I will end you," Jazz said, voice lowered into a deadly promise.

Soundwave tilted his head and smirked behind his mask as Jazz stiffened suddenly. He leaned forward and grabbed Jazz's chin before retracting his mask and pressing a soft kiss against his lips. He felt the warmth of the energy bars centimeters away from his face mix with the heat of rage coming from the other mech. His system purred and he grinned, "You will not succeed."