And I've actually got this thing done! Que applause! I'm quite pleasantly surprised that I did. My internet went kaput for a few hours today when I was editing and I thought for a while that is wasn't going to come back. Obviously it did.
Anyway, this whole first part is a direct cause of something that happen in my first story, Til All Are One: No Matter the Cost, Chapter Eighteen. So if you never read it and you want to or you just want to check it out again to refresh your memory then feel free.
Chapter Ten
Jazz scans his surroundings and squints his optics as the burning sun's rays penetrate through his blue visor. The heat causes his cooling systems to start running harder than normal as he checks the area for any Praxian survivors. His search team is nearby, somewhere. Everyone opted to split up so that they could search more places faster. Jazz had decided to head off his own direction. He tended not to work very well with anyone... unless it was Prowl. Prowl could keep up with him. Not many mechs could says that they could.
As far as the silver mech can see the flat is empty. Not a single thing moves for miles upon miles. Jazz curses the heat internally and transforms to speed further out into the wilds of Cybertron. His current path would eventually take him toward his old home, Polyhex, but it is many, many miles away.
After some time he slows his pace, stops, and begins searching anew with a few doubts starting to rise in his core. They've been searching since the sun broke open the sky and he still has to hear of any findings. Did Springer get fed false intel? Did anyone find anything?
Impatience wins out and Jazz pauses to comm the Autobot Second in Command, : Sir Fancy Grappler, come in. : Jazz finds himself smirking as he hears a longsuffering sigh sound over the communication lines. He and Sonic-blaster have come a long way in their friendship. It is safe to say that they didn't start out on good terms, since it was on account of the S.I.C. that Jazz had been caught in the first place. Sneaky little glitch.
: Jazz, : Sonic-blaster finally replies while trying to remain serious, : It's been almost four vorns (1 vorn=83 earth yrs.), could you stop with the nickname?:
Jazz snorts in answer before he asks, : Anybody find anything over your way? :
:Affirmative. Between Ironhide and Ultra Magnus' teams we've recovered nearly fourteen survivors. :
Jazz grins at this. Take that Cons! He doesn't even try to keep his good mood from entering his vocals as he replies with his words almost singing, : Okay. I'll keep looking. Jazzman out! :
The comm goes silent and Jazz continues with his processor going toward the bot that had delivered the news of survivors, Springer, the poor mechling, came in flying high as a seeker with the tidings. Prowl questioned were he got the intelligence out of protocol and Springer's faceplates suddenly had gotten tight with something that looked like anger and as red as Red Alert. He had told them of course with great embarrassment. Jazz had disagreed when Prowl threw the mechling into the brig for breaking base curfew and leaving the city without permission from his superiors. After all, if he hadn't they never would have learned about the surviving Praxians. Prowl, ever the stubborn one, couldn't be swayed.
At least Springer will barely have a joor (6.5 earth hrs.) of brig time, according to Prowl.
: Jazz, come in, : Prowl calls over the comms.
: Yeah? What is it, Prowler? : Jazz replies, with his good mood not the least bit slowing.
:Why are you not with your team? :
Jazz begins to laugh then abruptly stops when he catches sight of a blip on his energy scanner... and it's right behind him... Jazz hits the ground and rolls out of habit, then regains his pedes a few feet to the left of his original position. His optics find what he is looking for.
The hellish red optics of the mech watching him seem to bore through his chasis and straight into his spark. The jagged insignia of deception on his white and yellow shoulder armor is impossible to miss at the mere distance of ten yards...
How had the fragger gotten so close without him noticing?!
: Jazz, report back to ship immediately, : Prowl's order comes through the comm lines once more with urgency, : Decepticons have been spotted. :
Jazz has to fight the urge to smirk at the irony and the worry that is audible in Prowl's normally stoic vocals. He looks the white Con before him over once more.
: No slag, : Jazz replies to the Head Tactician with a chuckle and then ends the comm link.
The Decepticon's faceplates are hard as he stares at Jazz without movement. Jazz returns the steady gaze and wonders briefly where he's seen this particular Con before. He vaguely remembers those harsh faceplates, but from where? Jazz swiftly accesses his facial recognition programs and when he finds a match it blindsides him... Four vorns (1 vorn=83 earth yrs.) ago. Metropolis. The young officer he had spared when infiltrating the city.
Slag his sentiments!
The Decepticon known as Deadlock smirks as he sees Jazz's frown deepen for an astrosecond (1/2 of an earth sec) but is caught off guard when the silver saboteur bursts into laughter. A scowl replaces Deadlock's smile as the smaller mech cackles.
"I remember you!" Jazz finally manages to say, while pointing one of his claws at the Decepticon.
"Then you'll know that this is a rematch I've been living for," Deadlock says, placing his servo over dual swords where they rest in their scabbard at his right hip. He crouches into a fighting stance and waits on the Autobot to make his move. He learnt the hard way last time that the first move against Jazz might as well be the last move.
Jazz grins wickedly in return and pokes fun at the young officer, saying, "I'm glad you think of me so often, sweet-spark!" Lazily he saunters closer to his opponent while ignoring the frequent, incoming comm pings from Prowl. Jazz can tell that his words irritated the Decepticon and he braces himself for the attack he knows is coming.
Deadlock swiftly pulls a small blade from his subspace and deftly hurtles it toward the Autobot to distract him! Surprisingly, it does the trick.
Jazz deflects the twirling blade easily and it crashes harmlessly to the ground, but at the same time Deadlock pounces at the saboteur pulling out his swords! Gripping them in both servos, he swings them at the silver mech from both sides. The broad sides of the swords make harsh contact with Jazz's helm right over his audio receptors, causing his audios to ring loudly in protest. The calls coming from Prowl automaticly cease as his comm lines are neutralized.
Slag.
Jazz rolls away from the larger mech so his foe can't deal another strike so harmful again and nimbly gets to his pedes with a grin for Deadlock. A helmache sets in as the ringing in his audios slowly subsides.
"Nice trick," Jazz says with his wide grin splitting his faceplates. The Con's optic ridge quirks upward as he too straightens and circles closer once more. Jazz laxly does the same with his servos swinging as he question mockingly, "Who taught you how to do that?"
This time Deadlock returns the silver mech's smirk with one of his own.
"He was one annoying fragger," the Decepticon answers coyly, hinting at what he plans on doing to the Autobot. The saboteur's visor flashes with understanding of the sly use of past tense to describe him; a laugh erupts from his vocalizer, but is cut short as he dodges Deadlock's blades and dances around him.
"Don't worry," the saboteur says with a chuckle as he goes into a crouch with his claws twitching in eagerness, "I wasn't going to use my comms anyway." Deadlock spots the instant change in the saboteur as he loses his playful edge and a murderous gleam shines through his visor. The Con remembers all too clearly what happened last time he saw that look and determines with a growl that it is not going to happen again.
Deadlock attacks, and the silver Autobot skillfully dodges his advancement. He then swings both his dual swords down toward Jazz's waist, but the mech leaps over them and lands a harsh roundhouse kick on the side of the Con's faceplates, sending Deadlock careening away. Jazz is on him immediately, with his severe claws curled and ready for dismantling! He lunges onto Deadlock's back and buries both his servos under the Con's armor, clearly going for the main energon line that lies there. Deadlock can feel those erergon-hungry claws raking toward his life source. Pure panic floods him and the nitrous oxide rips through his wires with a crackle, and before the saboteur can begin tearing like a gale-force into the sensitive wires, Deadlock throws himself backwards.
Deadlock lands hard and squarely on top of the smaller mech.
He hears all the air leave Jazz's vents in a rush and feels, with great relief, the Autobot's claws retreat from his main energon line.
Jazz tries to roll him off, but Deadlock stubbornly stays planted, keeping the Autobot effectively trapped. This won't keep him long, Deadlock realizes and his processor scrambles with what he should do with his temporarily caught query. As if to prove his point, Jazz's right leg encircles his own and he shifts the Con's weight enough to jerk one servo free. That servo slams onto Deadlock's chassis opened palmed over his spark. Those talon-like digits curl lethally, ready to dig into white metal.
Oh slag! Acting instantly to the threat, Deadlock flips the sword in his servo around and jabs it harshly in the space left between his mainframe and arm, plunging it deep into the saboteur's gears! Jazz, to his credit, keeps his vocalizer in check and manages not to wail. His claws retreat from the Con's spark and digs sharply into Deadlock's upper arm pistons instead, severing the relays and control connections and rendering the arm holding the sword that just impaled him completely useless.
Deadlock snarls at the sudden turning of tables and leaps off the Autobot before he can do the same to his left arm. He leaves his right sword behind and sticking grotesquely out of the Autobot's abdomen, seeing as he couldn't grip it with his useless servo anymore. A growl rumbles through him as he feels his right arm fall completely numb all the way down to the tips of his finger digits.
Not again!
Jazz rolled off the ground at the same time as Deadlock with the sword still in his side. Ignoring the pain and the warnings that suddenly pop up in his HUD, Jazz grips the handle and pulls the blade out smoothly. Energon begins to trickle out of the open wound and down his leg. There isn't even a wince on the Autobot's faceplates to indicate his discomfort and if it weren't for the glowing blue trail of energon that slowly empties onto Cybertron's surface, Deadlock wouldn't even be able to tell that he'd just injured the mech.
The two bots circle each other with hard faceplates.
Deadlock grips his lone sword tighter and becomes acutely aware of just how hard it will be to fight with his right arm dangling by his side uselessly. He stares at his adversary's visor and the blue hue of his hidden optics, waiting on a sign of attack. The Decepticon can tell by the way the Autobot holds his sword that Jazz is no amateur in using this type of weapon... but then again, Deadlock would be surprised if there is any weapon this mech couldn't use.
Deadlock takes a testing step forward and Jazz swiftly moves to counter whatever tactic he might try next, abet with a barely noticeable limp. He is hurting right now from the injury in his side, the Decepticon notes, and with his pathetically unusable arm, Deadlock is glad. The fight is still quite fair.
The Autobot attacks first this time, catching Deadlock slightly off guard, but he expertly dodges and blocks Jazz's advancement. Deadlock ducks the swipe aimed at his helm from the saboteur and thrusts his own blade toward the Autobot's chassis. Jazz dodges a bit too slow and earns a large gash across his arm that also begins to seep energon.
The Autobot bares his denta against the pain and doesn't slow his attacks.
Deadlock attempts to parry his next strike, but the silver mech successfully knocks his weapon out of his servo! In his desperation, Deadlock uses his upper body weight to swing his limp arm around and brutally backhands Jazz across the faceplates!
As Jazz stumbles away, Deadlock uses the small window to kick the silver mech's blade out of his servos as well. As his pede makes contact with the weapon Jazz catches his leg in a solid arm lock with his left arm and plunges his right servo's claws into the Con's knee joints, repeating the same action as he did with Deadlock's arm! Jazz then tosses the now glitched leg away from his frame, causing Deadlock to stumble backwards with his arms flailing for balance.
Scrap!
Deadlock feels panic rising in his spark once more as the bottom of his leg, from the knee down, falls into a numb oblivion! Swiftly he locks his knee piston as he stumbles so his leg doesn't crumple under his weight. Now his movements have become choppy and downright awkward, clearly giving Jazz the upper servo though the saboteur is still losing a fair amount of energon.
Both mechs stop and stare at each other, both catching their vents and taking assessment of the damage they've done, and both judging if it is wise to continue. Neither of them had ever ran from a fight before and based on the way neither of them were backing down it isn't likely that either will start now.
Deadlock sees Jazz's servo go to his side to staunch the energon flow coming from him in a mild sign of discomfort. The Autobot's vents are a little haggard, but he does a good job hiding it. Maybe he could just wait the saboteur out and finish him off when he passes out from loss of energon, Deadlock muses as he watches his opponent. Instantly the though makes him scowl, were had that come from?! He's never just stood by in a stalemate until his enemy keeled over before and he's not going to start now!
He needs his swords...
Deadlock glances discreetly around him trying to locate his weapons.
At the slightest sign of the Decepticon being distracted, Jazz lunges to his right with a roll and comes up with both of the missing blades in his servos!
Frag.
Deadlock dodges Jazz's advancement with little to no grace and stumbles to the ground, landing solidly on his faceplates. Knowing he will not be able to get up in time, he rolls over onto his back just as both swords come down where he used to be! Deadlock uses his good leg to catch Jazz in the gears with his pede and kicks him away, giving the white mech only two nano-kliks (1 nanoklik=1 earth sec.) to get up. He makes it to his pedes... barely, and staggers a few feet away to stay out of Jazz's reach.
Deadlock scowls as he tries to form a new plan of attack. Seeing as his dual swords are currently occupied, he realizes he must bring out his long sword. It's going to be almost impossible to use it with only one functioning arm… Almost.
He pulls the large sword, that is nearly a third as long as his frame, off of its resting place on his back. Deadlock uses his good servo to wrap his limp right servo's digits around the weapon's hilt. Hurriedly, he locks the joints in his digits to grip the handle in a steel hold. Clutching the weapon with his good servo, Deadlock slams the bottom of the hilt onto his upper leg armor, activating it.
The sword begins to transform in a blaze of hot metal, unfolding, and tripling its size to a little over the length of the Decepticon's main frame. It glows a wicked orange shade, heat radiating off of the weapon in waves, indicating that cutting through the saboteur would be like slicing through liquid energon.
"Shiny," Jazz says snidely, with an admiring smile playing on his lip components.
"I'm glad you like it," Deadlock replies in a hiss as he steps forward and swings the long sword at the silver mech who attempts to stop it with both of his stolen blades.
The heated long sword slices through both blades and Jazz barely has time to duck under it; he feels the heat warp some of the paint at the top of his helm as the huge weapon slices the air above, nearly catching his winged aerials as it scorches passed. The saboteur looks at both the dual swords in his servos, now reduced to half their normal size, cut clean through and still smoking. He looks back at Deadlock with his mouthplates hanging slightly before he chucks the stubbed blade in his right servo at the Decepticon. Deadlock scarcely sidesteps in time and the cut off sword flies by his waist, whistling wildly as it spins by. The mechs stare at each other without moving again before Jazz chucks the shortened blade in his left servo as well. Deadlock ducks under this one and can hear the sound of the cut off weapon whipping through the air as it passes.
Jazz uses this distraction to charge the young officer.
He tackles the white and yellow Decepticon to the ground, causing Deadlock to lose his grip on the long sword with his good servo. The Con's right digits stays locked stubbornly around the weapon's hilt and he drags the huge weapon with him in his fall.
The two mechs land on the ground as one with Jazz on top. Blue energon from the saboteur splashes onto Deadlock's white armor as they grapple wildly at one another. Jazz's claws rake across Deadlock's faceplates and his chassis in a furious savagery that startles the Decepticon thoroughly. In an attempt to defend himself, Deadlock punches the Autobot, causing his blue visor to crack. As the saboteur stutters in his attack Deadlock reaches franticly for his long sword with his still functioning arm.
Jazz doesn't let him.
He is kicked back down to his back with his systems jarring from the small mech's brutality. Jazz then forcibly removes the long sword from Deadlock's right servo by breaking off the Decepticon's locked finger digits. Deadlock silences the scream of pain that struggles to be voiced as energon spurts from his jaggedly severed finger digits. The saboteur doesn't even try to wield the long sword and, instead, merely kicks the weapon away from the downed Con.
Jazz rains countless blows to the Con's faceplates. Energon coats Deadlock's faceplates as he tries and fails to land a feeble strike of his own. He twists under the saboteur's weight and a feeling that could only be called desperation wells up in his chassis as he spots one of the discarded, stubbed, dual swords laying close by. That's his chance!
The Decepticon lashes out with a snarl and manages to land a wild, harsh punch on the side of the silver mech's faceplates, causing the Autobot to shift his weight slightly. This gives Deadlock the chance to kick the smaller mech off and roll away, before scrambling madly across the Cybertronian flat. He hears Jazz curse behind him and jump after him only an astro-second (1/2 an earth sec.) behind! He grabs at the stunted weapon and whirls to face his oncoming attacker, who is much closer than he anticipated. He can see the saboteur's surprise even with the cracked visor obscuring his optics as Deadlock stabs at him with no aim and buries the cut off blade deep into the Autobot's chest, just missing his spark chamber by a fraction!
Jazz falls back onto his skidplating as he looks down at the sword's hilt protruding out of his chest. It doesn't even hurt, he realizes as a small squirt of blue tries to force its way passed the blade. That's probably not good. He rolls over to his servos and knees shakily and grunts as the oddly absent pain suddenly makes an appearance. A dull ache flares though his chassis and zones in toward the center of his chest plates. Prowl is going to offline him for this... he will never hear the end of it from Hot Rod... or Sonic-blaster for that matter. He has to at lest get up and finish the fight.
Jazz pushes himself up and stumbles back down as his balance systems overcorrects then goes haywire.
Frag.
He moves to get up again, but something pushes him back down firmly and forces him to roll over to his backstruts. A heavy pede rests on his chassis next to the sword in his chestplates. Jazz blinks at the white pede and then to its owner. His vision spazzes. Slag, that's all he needs. Something hot hovers right over his neck cables, painfully warping his armor, but he can't quite see it. He shakes his helm to clear his sight.
Deadlock is standing over him, long sword in his good servo, getting ready to deal the final blow... He should have stayed in his berth this morning-cycle, Jazz laments as he realizes this is probably the last tussle he's going to have on this side of the Well...Maybe not, who knows? Maybe Primus will have a nice, chaotic place reserved especially for him where he can fight to his spark's desire. Doubtful, but one could hope. More than likely, Jazz thinks with chagrin, he has a special place in Unicron's Pit... The Con's ruby optics glare down at him, but Jazz spots a sudden hesitation.
What for? Why should this Deadlock pause even an astro-second (1/2 an earth sec.) before making an Autobot's helm roll?
"Lesson learned," Deadlock says huskily as he finally raises his sword to deal the death blow.
Jazz smiles at the Con's words. If it hadn't been for this war they would have most definitely been friends. Well, he couldn't think of a better adversary to lose to...
Without warning Deadlock lowers his weapon and deactivates it with his faceplates slightly confused as if his good servo acted of its own accord. The blade's heat slowly fades away and it folds up neatly into itself. The Con slips onto its place on his back and turns away not even bother to gather his sliced dual swords. They are useless now anyway, he will just have to get new ones. Deadlock glances over his shoulder at Jazz, who is struggling to sit up.
"Now we're even," the Decepticon S.I.C. says before he walks away from his downed opponent. "And tell that fragger Hot Rod, he's got it coming," he throws over his white shoulder armor before transforming jerkily and moving off at a fairly slow pace.
Jazz pulls himself up slowly and tries to shake his processor clear of the tiny fingers of unconsciousness, but only succeeds in making himself dizzy. He nearly falls onto his back again, but forces himself to stand. Low energon warnings flash through his processor along with others. He takes a few steps then staggers to his knees. He's not going anywhere. Not like this. Jazz gingerly lays himself back down before he can fall and cause more damage to himself.
The Autobots will find him, he shan't be worried about that. He lost enough energon to make him a beacon as bright as the sun in the sky on a bot's energy scanner. All he has to do is wait and not offline. That might prove to be a problem as Jazz feels himself losing conciousness fast. He really can't tell if he is offlining or going into stasis lock, but neither is desirable. The small, silvery mech suddenly finds humor in the situation and he chuckles lowly to himself before his breath catches in his throatpipes and he begins coughing painfully. Energon gurgles up from his vent in light of his hacking fit. Slag, that can't be good... Now Ratchet is going to kick his aft for laughing at a time like this, Optimus and Prowl are going to give him a stern talking to, and Grimlock is going to sit on Ultra Magnus for stealing his toys... Wait, what?
Jazz's vision slowly blurs into nothingness and a black oblivion follows close behind it.
Ironhide pauses to listen to his surroundings again. There it is! A soft cry and sniff. By the sound of it, its a femme.
"Do you hear that?" Chromia asks as she steps up beside him. Ironhide nods and moves forward through the rubble of a small town that was destroyed many vorns (1 vorn=83 earth yrs.) ago. He spots a small, light orange femme curled up under an overhang of wreckage.
The femme's gaze whips up and she sees the two bots. Her optics fill with fear and she flattens herself against the wall behind her, her chest heaving with fright. Ironhide holds his servos up to show they mean no harm and Chromia almost scoffs at the huge mech. The femme had just gone through a brutal genocide, the sight of cannons as large as his will no doubt scare the slag out of the poor thing. She almost reaches out to stop the mech from moving any closer when the orange femme catches her off guard by hurling herself in the large mech's arms sobbing.
How could she be so trusting of two strange bots finding her in this rubble right after she had just witnessed the cons brutally offlining everyone around her?
Another feeling along with suspicion rises in Chromia's spark as she takes in the sight of the orange femme in Ironhide's arms. Her optics narrow at the fembot and she feels a sudden dislike along with mistrust towards her.
"Come, we will take you back to the Autobot ship that is at Praxus," Chromia says and her vocals have a cold edge to them. She finds with astonishment that she feels no sympathy for this femme and it bothers her.
"No! I don't want to go back to Praxus!" the femme shrieks and buries her helm in Ironhide's chest. The mech's faceplates are hard and he doesn't seem comfortable with the femme's close proximity. Chromia fights the pleased feeling that tries to overtake her and schools her faceplates into a no nonsense expression.
"Femme, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can get to safety and medical attention," Chromia says to her, sounding like Prowl with his monotonous tone. The fembot's yellow optics seem to glare at Chromia with anger, but as quickly as it came, it disappears. Did she just imagine that? Chromia looks at Ironhide to see if he had seen it too, but he is setting the femme down.
"What is your designation?" he asks the pathetically shaking femme with his vocals gruff.
"Star," the femme says looking up at the mech's faceplates with stupid, starry optics.
"Are you injured?" Ironhide asks next.
The femme nods solemnly and shows the weapons specialist several superficial scratches and scrapes. Chromia's ire rises quickly at the fembot, but she manages to keep a scowl off of her faceplates and she peeks at the black mech to see his reaction. Ironhide is only watching the femme with unamused optics. He stands and walks out from under the overhang and motions with his servo for Star to follow.
"Let's get back to the other two," he says in his usual rough tone as he moves in the direction that the other members of their search party had gone. He searches the area for them quickly and finds the other two mechs close by. He calls them over with only a silent jerk of his helm, then orders when they near, "Take this femme back to the ship."
Chromia feels relief that he did not command her to take the femme. She doesn't know how much longer she could have taken the fembot's idibot antics without punching her half-witted faceplates in. As the two mechs escort Star back toward the ship Chromia moves closer to Ironhide. His blue optics find hers quickly and he waits for what she wanted to say.
"There is something off about that fembot," Chromia mutters lowly as she glances from the black mech to the retreating backs of the other three bots. Ironhide grunts his agreement before he moves to continue their search.
A comm link ping from Prowl stops him short.
: All western teams, report back to the Hulk immediately! Decepticons have been spotted! : Prowl commands with a rare worry seeping into his vocals.
The weapons specialist and the light blue femme exchange a look that clearly states how much they both would love to have a run in with some of those glitched up fraggers, but they are part of the western search teams so they must report back to the Autobot hovering ship that is docked at what remains of Praxus.
Still... it would hurt to see if there are any close by...
Chromia checks her spark energy scanner to see if any Decepticon signals pop up and what she see nearly stops her spark. There are familiar two signatures, one Autobot and one Decepticon, nearly on top of each other on the scanners. Ironhide curses out loud as he realizes the same thing.
"That's Jazz," Ironhide growls as he glances at Chromia and starts off toward the two blips on the scanners.
"I'm guessing I'm not the only one who recognizes the Con signature..." Chromia mutters as she follows the big mech without question.
Ironhide shakes his helm. They're both thinking it.
Deadlock.
"Jazz needs backup," Ironhide states and transforms to speed in the direction of the obviously ongoing scuffle with Chromia trailing close behind him with her denta clenched. Deadlock has dealt in enough Autobots, and Chromia will go to Unicron's Pit before she will let him do it again. The slagger has got it coming!
Jazz's signal grows uncharacteristically strong on her scanner and Chromia feels her spark all but sink to her gears. That can only mean one thing... Jazz has lost a lot of energon.
Frag it, no!
Chromia growls and is about to pass Ironhide when he suddenly takes on a burst speed. He must have seen it too.
Chromia's spark clenches painfully as she and Ironhide race frantically over the Cybertronian flat. Dread settles in her core as she anticipates what will happen next. At any moment Jazz's signal will fade forever and Deadlock will have claimed another Autobot. A rage builds in the fembot as she strains her systems for more speed. They have to reach him in time! He's still online, they can still make it!
Chromia is caught slightly off guard as the Decepticon's signal moves away from Jazz's, who is still online.
That fragger! He's just going to let the mech offline slowly? What else could be expected from a Con?
The silver saboteur's signal moves toward them a little then stops. It flickers and then begins to dim just as Chromia feared!
Hang on, Jazz! Chromia wants to scream.
She sees the glimmering blue of spilled energon in the distance, in its midst a still frame. The two bots reach their downed friend in the barest nano-kliks (seconds) and Chromia rushes to the saboteur's side as Ironhide clears the perimeter with his cannon lite up, dangerously humming as he does. Chromia takes in the sight of the downed silver mech with a hammering spark pulse. It is painfully clear at once that if Jazz doesn't get to a medic soon, he will offline. There are dozens of small wounds all over his frame, energon leaks freely from a large gash on his right arm, and a frighteningly large amount of the life sustaining blue liquid hemorrhages to the ground beneath him from a critical stab wound running through his side. Chromia's optics stop at the most obvious threat.
A blade buried in the saboteur's chest.
"Frag," Ironhide growls as he walks up from behind her and takes in the sight as well, "call back to base. Tell them we need a bridge ASAP."
: Blaster, come in! : Chromia barks at the communications officer who is stationed back at Iacon as Ironhide remains standing by her side as a look out for whatever Decepticons Prowl had warned them about earlier.
: Here, : Blaster replies laxly, despite the desperation in Chromia's 'voice'.
: We need a bridge at these coordinates and we need a medic on arrival! : She orders as she checks Jazz's vital output.
: On it, : Blaster replies sounding much more clipped and professional.
A bridge appears instantly several yards away and Chromia can feel a small level of relief in her frame.
"You go ahead," Ironhide says lowly and Chromia eyes him suspiciously in her position next to Jazz.
"What are you going to do?" she asks, although already knowing the answer. She is thinking of doing it herself. Deadlock's signal is still on her energy scanner, strong but moving slow, meaning Jazz did a number on him. Chromia fights the insane urge to act upon her sudden impulse to go hunt the fragger down and rip his spark out through his mouthplates.
Ironhide narrows his optics at her and says exactly what she is thinking, "I'm going to go finish the job," he growls dangerously.
"No," Chromia says, stopping him short with a servo on his arm, "Jazz will, on another cycle (day), but right now I need you to carry him." With that she stands back to make room for the big, black mech to step in and pick the injured saboteur off the ground. Ironhide does so after staring at the femme for a few short nano-kliks (seconds). Swiftly he carries the much smaller Autobot through the ground bridge with easy, measuring strides, careful not to jostle him.
Chromia follows closely behind with her spark pulsating wildly as her faceplates flush from Ironhide's gaze. Why is that mech's gaze so unsettling? She shakes off the unwanted feelings as they emerge in the communications hanger in Iacon.
As soon as they emerge Ratchet is upon them with a vengeance, "What's his output?!" Chromia opens her mouthplates to tell him, but the medic has already checked for himself before she can utter a word. "Fraggit all! Where's all this energon coming from!" Ratchet exclaims as his medical staff come running into the hanger with a stretcher.
"Put him on the stretcher!" Ratchet orders Ironhide, who does as he is told without words for the second time in a few nano-kliks (seconds). "Code, check his energy levels! Flat Line, get ready for a emergency transfusion! Where's all this slagging energon coming from! Put a clamp on that line!" Ratchet barks from beside Jazz as one of his new apprentices, Chromia doesn't remember ever seeing him before, pushes the stretcher at an all-out run toward the Med Bay.
"Is he going to make it?" Chromia calls to the C.M.O., who promptly disappears down the halls without answering her question.
It must be pretty bad then.
The blue fembot clenches her servos in her frustration and squeezes her optics shut to reign in her anger. She runs through the whole thing in her helm. Finding that femme, Star, ugh. Prowl's warning. Seeing the energy signals. Finding Jazz. Ironhide's anger. Her own rage. Chromia finds herself wondering suddenly what had made Ironhide listen to her out there when she told him not to give chase after Deadlock.
The blue femme chances a glance at said mech to find him looking at her. The same unsettling feeling rises swiftly and courses through her frame as she gets lost in his unreadable gaze. Was he angry? She hopes not. A long, awkward silence stretches between them as they stand in the middle of the communications hanger. They both are no doubt thinking the same thing; if Jazz offlines it's their fault that they didn't reach him in time... and there is one Con that will be so slagged!
"Would the bots who are A.) Not of use and B.) Making googie optics at each other, please remove themselves from the room," Blaster yells irritably from his spot at a large computer. The communication bots burst into genuine, yet strained laughter at this. Most of them are quit on edge at seeing Jazz in his condition and barely crack a smile at the jest.
Ironhide blinks stupidly for several nano-kliks (seconds) before his cooling fans kick in as his frame heats up. Chromia glares at Blaster, her own fans running in embarrassment as well, she hopes everyone thinks it is with rage. Ironhide hastily exits the room with Chromia close behind and her frame heats even more as several wolf whistles follow them out.
They find themselves standing awkwardly in the hall with their worries about the silver saboteur becoming unbearable. The silence that stretches between them only adds to their tension and Chromia's optic light up in relief when she spots Hot Rod walking merrily down the hall with Bumblebee in his servo.
The little yellow mechlet squeals in delight at the sight of his Ironhide and reaches out for him with a giggle. Hot Rod hands the little bit off willingly and without a word with a smile on his faceplate. Just as Chromia begins to wonder exactly what all they tore up around the base the two splitspark, femlet twins round the corner in a dead run with a peeved Wheeljack close behind them.
Wheeljack is squalling something that sounds like, "Bring that back!"
Chromia sees Ironhide pull the little yellow sparkling securely to his chassis as the trio flies by and an unnamed feeling grows in the femme's spark as she sees the war hardened mech's fierce protectiveness toward Bumblebee. She has never taken time to get to know the mechling, but the black weapons specialist's reaction makes the fembot determined to find out what makes Bumblebee so special.
"Please don't tell me you had something to do with that," Ironhide grunts as he gestures toward the retreating backs of the three bots. Hot Rod grins rather cheekily at his former teacher.
"Ok, I will not tell you," he says in a smart-aftish manner that makes the larger and older mech narrow his optics. "So how's the search going?" Hot Rod asks suddenly changing the subject skillfully, but the rather innocent question brings a solemn look on both bots' faceplates. The younger mech's cocky smile falters and his expression darkens slightly, "What happened?" he asks, his vocals sounding strangely like a mix between his brothers'.
"Jazz had a run in with Deadlock. He's in stasis, but still online," Ironhide says as he shifts Bumblebee to his other servo.
"That's what I don't get," Chromia says suddenly, "Deadlock clearly came out on top, but Jazz is still online." She looks between the two mechs. Ironhide is looking at her, contemplating the thought she shared, but Hot Rod just looks hostile.
"Is he going to be alright?" Hot Rod asks his words shaking slightly in his sudden rage.
"Ratchet…didn't say," Chromia says as she meets Ironhide's gaze, both of them again hoping the medic's silence didn't mean what they thought.
Hot Rod's lip plating presses in a tight line. His servos clench into painful-looking fists and he walks away without another word.
So much just happened and I have to address some of it. First off, poor Chromia, she hasn't a clue. And Secondly, I wasn't sure when Deadlock was supposed to get his huge sword thingy, but I just stuck it in there now. He'll get a different one later, so.
Now, for the final word, a big CONGRATULATIONS to 2211Nighthawk and enmused for being able to list over seven of my OCs. You two are awesome-sauce! I hope you enjoyed the finished product. :)