Title: True Friend
Chapters: Cause You Keep My Feet On The Ground
Pairings/Characters: Implied Starscream/Soundwave; Jazz, Prowl, Mirage, Bumblebee, Rumble, Ramjet, Dirge
Verse: G1
Words: 1066
Warnings: Violence
Summary: A series of oneshots about the friendship of Jazz and Prowl. Not slash but you can take it that way if you wish.
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers.
Notes: None
Enjoy!
Jazz punched Ramjet directly in the face and the jet sprawled out on the ground, completely offline. Turning away from the downed seeker, he dashed across the battlefield, dodging prey he deemed to insignificant for his tastes and tackled another of the Conehead trine, the flash of dark blue marking the seeker as Dirge, and slicing open a chunk on the forearm with his energy knife.
The life-energon immediately began to flow from the open wound, sparking from split wires and Jazz stared at it for what was only an astro-second in reality while seeming to be breems in his processor, before slicing another cut down Dirge's other arm. The fluid spurt from the open wound and he kicked the stunned seeker away from him.
Setting off down the field again, his mission adrenaline on high and guiding his energy knife through countless mech's armor. He wasn't even sure if he was cutting up Autobots or Decepticons anymore.
His mission had been simple; go undercover, find out what a file labeled PROJECT: RUBY LINE was about before the Autobots were staring at it via Megatron himself, and then get extracted after two orns whether he discovered the information needed or not.
The extraction became possible by Prowl, his spy-bots, and a few others who had engaged the Decepticons in battle, allowing Jazz to smoothly shift out of his disguise half-way through it and become his Autobot self once more. Once word got around that Jazz had in fact infiltrated the Nemesis the battle became an attempt to capture Jazz and take him to a more than infuriated Lord Megatron.
Unfortunately for the Decepticons, the brutal and constantly tense and suspicious atmosphere in the Nemesis had activated a few self-installed programs within Jazz's coding. Programs he had found himself able to justify after vorns of Special Operations missions.
The activated programs were defensive ones and not some of the more aggressive modifications that he had made to himself. Although, said programs were used to sharpen his more basic defense subroutines and translated them as offensive from sheer drive.
These programs were not usually a problem when activated; in fact they were very simple to turn off. The problem this time however, was that it was Jazz the programs had awakened in.
When Mirage looked around for his Captain and spotted the black and white saboteur slashing through the Decepticons in his path mercilessly with a crazed feral violence he knew what had happened and contacted Prowl at once. Every Special Operations agent knew Jazz told Prowl a lot more then what was allowed. Not that they minded; Prowl was dependable in a tight spot and never once spilled a secret that was entrusted to him by their Captain. After the initial few bitter deca-cycles on Cybertron they realized that the Second in Command knowing certain aspects of their unit was more useful than him not knowing, as earlier predicted.
Jazz registered in the back of his processor that he had finished 'dispatching' with the conehead trine and even a few gestalt mechs were crippled in his wake. Through the instinctual haze of redlines wrapping around his processor he spotted Soundwave landing harsh blows on a defending, and weakening, Bumblebee. He lunged forward and lashed his fist against Soundwave's facemask to send the tape deck skidding across the ground.
Jazz pounced on the tape deck, punching Rumble away when the cassetticon tried to help his host. Soundwave made an odd sound at the assault on Rumble and he slashed at Soundwave in response. He ignored the sharp electronic screams coming from Soundwave's modified vocalizer.
He disregarded the cracked red visor staring up at him in stark fear, in fact enjoying the clear show of victory. Raising his energy knife and about to plunge it inside the dangerously fragile glass of the tape deck's chassis, to offline the telepath permanently, he snarled as his hand was restrained in a tight hold. Jazz twisted his upper body and curled his hand in a way that would painfully hurt the other whether he broke his hold or not, ready to hurtle himself at the one halting his kill.
Hard indigo optics greeted him, staring straight through his visor and causing him to halt his attack. Jazz breathed hard, not quite sure what to do by Prowl's interference.
"What?" Jazz snapped trying to tug his hand out of Prowl's grip in vain, realizing moments later from the small twitch in Prowl's doorwings that it had hurt Prowl's strangely twisted wrist. Nonetheless, Prowl didn't falter from the harsh tone or spike of pain that must have resulted from the tug.
"You're better than that." Prowl said quietly and a few astro-seconds passed as Jazz watched those indigo optics boring into him with a maddening understanding laying within them. Prowl released his hand abruptly and stepped away.
Jazz stared at Prowl confusion; watching him step back a good five feet and stand there, waiting with trusting patience. Then Prowl's words struck through the streaming programs running rampant through his processer and Jazz looked down at the mech he had pinned to the ground.
Soundwave was truly in no condition to fight back in any way. His arms had automatically been shredded at the shoulder joints, legs severely dented at the knee joints to prevent his 'prey' from escaping, and the amount of pain that Soundwave's receptors must have been registering would have destroyed any chances of mental attack.
Soundwave was bleeding his life-plasma all over the desert ground and strength of will bleeding out with each small gasp of pain in the usually stoic monotone voice. Dropping the energy knife on the ground, Jazz jumped off the mangled mech and looked around at Prowl with wide optics under his visor.
"I… I…" Jazz stuttered and looked back where at Soundwave, only to see Starscream picking him up, calling for a retreat. Watching the seeker flying off, Jazz murmured tightly, "Thanks Prowl."
A hand that had grabbed his so tightly before landed gently on his shoulder and he looked back at Prowl, who gave him a small smile, "Let's go home Jazz."
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