So i didn't intend on writing a part 2 to this one, i liked it as a stand alone. That being said, Wolf Girl811 got me thinking and you know what? I like this one too. So just to clarify, this is defiantly IDW influenced and has NOTHING to do with TMJ universe. It was just a fun project to do while i stalled vacuuming the house. So, for Wolf Girl, here's a part 2


I was sitting on the railing at the top of one of the towers. One leg hung off the edge, some 20 stories up and the other I had bent and was resting my chin on my kneebolt. It wasn't as sharp as my old armor, in fact, the only sharp part of my frame was my claws.

I had spent an orn and a half filing my digits down into the razor sharp claws that I would never go without again.

It was a small comfort all things considering.

I hadn't seen Prime yet, he was apparently too busy making sure that everyone thought I was offline, but that didn't mean I wanted to see him.

He had a frag lot of explaining to do.

The worst part was that I couldn't even yell at him. Not with my vocal processor slashed clean in half.

I didn't know if I should be mad at Ratchet or impressed. I was a trained killer. When I terminated a mech, they stayed offline.

And yet that fragger had managed to revive me despite me taking a knife to my own vital lines. And being shot point blank in the spark.

The door slid open but I already knew who it was before he'd even stepped out onto the balcony. A weak hiss, all I could manage with the mass of scar metal across my throat, escaped me and my armor flared.

"I'm sorry it took so long to talk to you." Optimus Prime said softly as he walked across to where I was sitting on the railing.

"Ya got ah lot of explain' tah do." I growled over the short range comms. Prime flinched hard, stopping half way across the roof.

"I don't know what to tell you." Prime continued after a moment. "None of this was supposed to happen."

"Ya expect meh tah belive that." I demanded, turning to glare at him, fangs bared. "Ya got ah lot o' nerve Prime!"

"What are you talking about."

I continued watching the Prime before glancing away again.

He didn't know.

Prowl had at least left the Prime out of this.

"Did Red know 'bout this?" I asked.

"About Prowl releasing your file? Yes. He knew within klicks of it hitting the network that it had been Prowl, and not a leak but by then it was too late. I had no choice. The public, and Prowl, branded you a criminal. I could not stop it without the city revolting. The Decepticons made sure of it. As you can image, they wanted you offline just as badly as the neutrals." He explained. "I know you have no care for politics, but it's far more complicated then one would expect. From those returning, we're all criminals, just some are worse than others and what badge they wear makes no difference to them."

"Ya shouldn't have intervened." I said after a moment. "Ya should have let meh terminate. If everyone wants meh offline so badly ya should 'ave let it 'appen. Ratchet's tah only one tha' could 'ave saved meh."

"And even he was almost too late. I always knew you were good Jazz but Ratchet almost lost you."

"Ee's ah pit of ah medic." I admitted, dropping my leg over the railing and pulling the other up. The motion made me flinch as the welds acorss my chassis pulled. A warning flashed across my HUD, warning me that my sparkchamber was still repairing.

"Primus, must you sit on the railing like that?" Prime asked and I glanced back at him with a grin. The mech wasn't looking at me and his armor was flared.

I loved heights, maybe because I couldn't actually see how high I was. I loved the wind on my plating, hearing how the sounds blended from this high up.

But I was also aware that mechs not designed to be air born preferred having all their tires on the ground. And then when I was prancing around the ledges of skyscrapers and the railings of overpasses, it made some physical sick to watch me.

Moving slowly I turned around, then slid off the railing, holding it tighter afterwards then I realized. It had only been a few cycles since I had onlined and spark chambers take a long time to heal.

"Are you alright?" Prime asked, walking over to me.

"Been better." I relied honestly, servo pressed against my chassis. Prime continued watching me for a klick before sighing, walking forward and leaning against the railing. "So 'ow'd ya pull it off."

"Despite a crowd wanting to see you shot, they had problems with said mech leaking out on the bleachers. As soon as you collapsed they hauled you back underground. Ratchet was waiting for you to make sure that you'd stabilised yourself before stuffing enough mesh into your throat to make sure you didn't offline for real." Prime explained. "Thankfully, nobody even thought of the fact that being special ops, you'd have so many overrides. That false spark reading is what saved your life again."

He subspaced a datapad before handing it to me. I'd seem them before but it still made my spark jump every time I saw them.

It was worse when the termination certificate had my designation on it.

Jazz of Polyhex, former Head of Special Operations was terminated via self-inflected wounds and a gunshot to the spark chamber. Verified by Ratchet of Iacon, Chief Medical Officer.

"So wha's mah designation now." I asked, glancing over at the much bigger mech.

Prime shrugged, glancing at me.

"I guess whatever you want." He said, glancing back out over Iacon. "Jazz is offline right? Red Alert, Ratchet, and myself are the only ones that know you're still functional. Prowl…"

He trailed off before shaking his helm.

"Prowl's too smart, so he very well might think you're still functional but as far as everyone else is concerned, you terminated that orn. They had the frame to prove it after all."

I nodded, glancing away. I'd been wondering what had happened to my armor.

"MTO frame?" I asked.

"Yes. Red managed to find out that would fit your frame. It's still your frame, but the new armor. Your old armor is on the Made To Order frame. Ratchet even replicated your wounds."

"Tha's ah little scary." I muttered. "Wha's gonna 'appen tah-"

I couldn't even say His designation, it just made me want to purge.

"Prowl had no right to release your file and in doing so, it was a major breach not only to our security, but to any trust I had in him. He betrayed me, both of us, and what happened to you was not by my choice, nor could I stop it. I was under far too much pressure from the public to be able to help you my trusted friend, but now that the tables are turned I see no reason to extend him the same courtesy he denied you."

I didn't respond but I had not ignored what the Prime had called me.

A trusted friend.

How all of this got started. Prowl had called me a trusted friend, I had considered him a trusted friend. I broke the first Law and suffered for it. And even now, my life was still not my own. I owed it to another, again, and he still had the power to make me do what ever he wanted. Prowl's little breach of security was proof that it did not take much to put me in the spotlight.

"Wha' do ya wan' meh tah do." I asked with a low growl. "Ya saved meh for a reason. Ya still need mah skills or ya would 'ave let meh finally terminate by mah own decision."

"I still need you."

"Ya need mah skills." I repeated only for the Prime to shake his helm.

"No, I need you. I trust you Jazz. we may have won the War but we are in no way at peace yet. Decepticons are still causing problems every chance they get and the neutrals are yelling for our energon. I need someone that I can rely on, someone I can talk to. As for your identity, you have the opportunity very few of us will ever have and that is to start over with a clean slate. Nobody knows who you are or what you've done, but I hope that when I need someone I can trust…" He trailed off again. "I still trust you Jazz. I've never doubted you, I hope you know that."

"Trustin' meh is a dangerous move. Ya of all mechs should know tha." I said bluntly.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." Prime replied just as bluntly.

I didn't say anything, too many thought running through my processor.

I could start over.

I didn't have to worry about the pit-spawn that sired me, or the gangs of Praxus, or the War. I could do whatever I wanted with a freedom I'd never know. For once in my life, nobody wanted my spark on a silver platter. For once in my life, I was finally free.

It came at a horrible cost. Blaster, Bluestreak, Hound, the other allies I had. They would never know that I still functioned, but under different plating and a different designation. What was sadder was that I knew I would move on. I could walk among them and act like I never knew them. It was far too easy to just hide behind masks again, this was just one more to add to the pile.

"'m serious. You can do whatever you want. The mech I know as Jazz was terminated, but I hope that after you decide who you want to be, we can still remain friends." Prime continued, still watching me far too closely.

"Ah hope we can too." I found myself saying and the Prime visibly relaxed.

"That's good to hear." He said, nodding. Abruptly he flinched hard, servo going to his audio. "Ratchet's looking for you. He's fragged that you shut off your comm."

"Havin' an important talk 'ere." I replied with a shrug. "Sides, 'ee was all over meh with ah scanner just two joors ago. Ah ain't gonna collapse."

"You try telling him that yourself." Prime replied with a smirk. "I hope to see you again, and this time with your own voice."

I gave the Prime a relaxed salute before heading back toward the main building and the private lift that would take me back below ground to where Ratchet had smuggled me.

"I have to ask you one thing though before you leave." Prime said quietly and I paused. I knew exactly what he wanted to know. "That recording. It was when Red was nearly assassinated and Megatron took Iacon wasn't it."

It had been a horrible time in Special Ops, knowing that there was a breach in your own mechs but not knowing for sure who it was. I'd spent far too much time in the washracks, washing another mech's energon from my frame.

"Ya."

"How many did you terminate under Prowl's orders." Prime asked, turning around to lean backwards against the railing and facing me. "Between you and I, how many terminated before you caught the real traitor."

I couldn't face him.

"Eighteen." I finally said. "Six of 'em were mah mechs."

"And Mirage?" Prime pressed.

"Terminated 'emself. 'Ee knew everyone thought 'ee was tah traitor. Cliff made sure oh' tah before Ah took 'em off Prowl's 'it list. 'Ee was numb'a eleven on tah list."

I trailed off before hissing air painfully from my vents.

"Ah did track 'em down but 'ee already had ah gun. Said 'ee didn't want meh tah 'ave 'is energon on mah servos. 'Ee knew Ah was just followin' orders."

Again.

And again.

Just following orders.

That's all I ever did.

"Ee shot 'emself, and weh took tah opportunity tah stage it like it 'ad been Raj all along. Linedrive got too excited, messed up, an' Ah'd off'ed him within 48 joors o' Mirage off'in' 'imself. 'Ee…. 'Ee was eighteen. Even if Ah didn't off' Mirage mahself, his termination is still on mah helm."

Prime didn't say anything and I couldn't turn to face him.

"Thank you for telling me that." He said after a moment and I turned to him, not expecting that response. He was already facing away from me, back out over Iacon.

"Get better soon Jazz." He said and I couldn't help but smile. A real one for once.

"Call meh Remix." I replied before spinning around and back towards the lifts.

I'd never intended to turn out the way I was.

I guess nobody ever does.

Polyhex had chewed me up and spat me out, and then Praxus tried to terminate what was left with it's gangs.

It was survival of the fittest and I learnt that the hard way.

Trust nobody but yourself.

But there was a small part of me that had never been crushed or warped and that was my love of music. It had been what drew me to Praxus in the first place, even if I never made it.

But there was a mech with a stall full of old instruments set up a few blocks away and there was a guitar in there with my designation on it.

My new designation to go with my new life.

And you can be pit fraggin' sure I'm gonna live it on my own terms.


And THAT is definitely the end, though who knows, someone might get me going off on another rabbit trail. And never fear TMJ fans, I'm still working on it. How many times have you heard THAT one before...