Author's Note: My apologies for taking so long with updating. I've been bogged down by a writer's block as soon as the previous chapter went online. Only when I heard this one song my muse came out of the hidey hole she had wedged herself into. And then we were struggling to get this chapter just right. I hope I succeeded and you like it. :)
That being said: The song I listened to endlessly while writing the chapter is "Too Late" from M83. I suggest you look for it (it's on youtube for example) and listen to it while reading.
Also, many many thanks for the lovely reviews I received. I'm always happy to hear that you enjoyed reading a chapter and appreciate the time you take to leave some feedback.
Enough with the waffling. I present you the next instalment, from me for you for Christmas. I wish you all a joyful festive season and a great start into 2015!
– chapter twenty-one –
Chimera
He felt peaceful for the first time in gluxins. Above him spanned the dark night-time sky with thousands of glittering stars. The expanse was deserted, the war had long moved on; there would be no more fighting… just quiet. It should have grated on his processor as he was no bot that could stand silence for too long. He needed sounds, he needed action, and the more the better. But right now it was balm for his troubled spark.
It wasn't meant to hold; movement next to him pulled him out of this wandering thoughts. There was a glint in the darkness that vanished as quickly as it had come, before his companion whispered, "Shift changes in three, two, one… let's go!"
Instead of moving forward, he found himself frozen; his motor relays weren't responding to his processor's commands, no matter what he tried. He ran system scans, looking for a virus or other kinds of override, but all responses came back negative. He knew it couldn't be right, yet he truly seemed in limbo. He glanced back up at the starlit sky.
Suddenly, the world shifted. The ground shook with explosions, the air alive with fire and smoke. Above him snarled the jet engines of Seeker squadrons before another building exploded. Screams tore through the night, shattering the peace into a thousand shards of breaking glass. Bots ran past him to get to the epicenter to search for survivors. He joined them, ran as fast as his pedes would carry him – and never moved at all. The wall of flames was coming closer –
– and then he was swallowed by the fiery chasm. The fall felt endless and searing hot agony shot through his frame, engulfing his entire being. He bucked against the torment, fought against it with all what was left of his willpower.
He could have tried conquering Kaon singlehandedly; it would have had the same result.
As suddenly as the pain had come it was gone again. He fell onto the ground in a graceless heap, groaning softly as the crash rattled his processor. His vents heaved with exhaustion.
He could not say how much time had passed when he found the strength to lift his gaze. In front of him stood a bot, the two pedes looking disturbingly familiar. His gaze slowly wandered upward until he found a single ruby optic staring down at him dispassionately.
"Your attempt at infiltration has been most illogical," the 'con stated tonelessly.
He snorted and rested his helm back on the cool floor. "If that's all ye hafta say…" A moment later, something hard hit him on the back of his helm, momentarily disabling his visuals. Once it cleared again, he stared defiantly up at his captor.
Servos pulled him up to standing before giving him a push. He stumbled forward and his comm crackled to life. /Stop just standing around, move!/ a familiar voice ordered.
"Ya shouldna have come, Prowler," he mumbled and fell back into darkness.
"Jazz!"
Just out of the lift, his helm jerked upward and he froze.
"Well, well, well, if that isn't Optimus' third-in-command himself, and in our holy halls no less. If I knew you'd be coming, I would have prepared a reception."
His optics narrowed. "Megatron," he said, leveling his voice as much as possible. He wasn't afraid of the Decepticon leader, only careful; one never knew what the psychomaniac was going to do next after all. He nonetheless didn't want to show any weakness the 'cons could try to exploit.
The former gladiator looked around pointedly, as if searching for someone. When turning back toward him, he asked, "I don't see any other Autobot here. You didn't come alone, did you?" His tone suggested he knew only too well that he had indeed come without backup.
"Nope, just plain old meh."
"Pity. We could have had a party. But now…" He trailed off and casually signaled his 'cons to take care of him.
He was of course prepared, having expected nothing less from the leader of the Decepticons. At first he could hold out against the attacks quite well, especially as he still had the lift and thus a wall to protect his back. But eventually, his luck dwindled before finally leaving him completely. He now faced twenty Decepticons at once, and they slowly but steadily forced him to move until they had him completely surrounded. His chances decreased even more when Soundwave joined the fight. He tried evading the tentacles reaching for him, but the silent communications officer was faster. The electrical shock he received upon contact locked his motor functions and he fell crashing to the floor.
Agony tore through his spark and sensor net.
"Slagging Autobot, answer me!" the Seeker shouted at him, then stabbed his core again.
He screamed as hot white light seared into his mind and threatened to consume him once and for all. When darkness finally swallowed him, he was more relieved than ever before.
"… Jazz!"
"What?" He ducked behind the counter to avoid getting his helm blown off by the 'cons returning fire.
Ricochet snarled, "Did you plan on enjoying the scenery? Move it, slagger!" A small bomb exploded close by, showering them with debris, but their hiding spot remained safe for now. "We need those codes, and we need them now."
He snorted air through his vents. "As if I'd ever give you the access codes to Iacon, Screamer."
The Seeker's faceplate contorted in anger. "Fine, have it your way then."
Darkness descended and killed off all sound.
Consciousness eluded him. He was locked within his own frame with no chance at guessing how much time passed. For all he knew, he could have joined the Creator in the Well.
"Jazz?"
A gentle nudge against his legs.
"You can as well online your optics," a soft baritone rumbled next to his audios. "I know you're no longer in stasis."
He smiled wistfully before doing as suggested. He was greeted by a small frown, sapphire blue optics roaming over his faceplates. "Like what ya see?" he couldn't help but tease.
The Praxian snorted. "I like you better up and working." A servo came up –
– but rather than the white fingers of his longtime friend and comrade, claws reached for him, for his spark. Fear should lace through him yet all he felt was an eerie calm he could not explain where it came from. "Yeah, yeah, don't twist ya circuits." He waved his left servo dismissively while simultaneously detaching his right arm from his rifle. After putting the weapon down, he got back to hacking the enemy's database.
Truth was, his first foray into the database had alerted the 'cons about their intrusion. The sudden alarm going off had surprised the two infiltrators as much as the enemy that was, for the most part, pulled out of recharge. But contrary to the 'cons, he and Ricochet had been prepared that they might be discovered, with the latter providing cover whilst the former hacked into the system. At first that had proven quite successful, but not any longer; after all, they were only two against a dozen 'cons pressing in on them from all available sides. The sooner they completed their assignment, the faster they could try to get out again.
Problem was, this was no ordinary Decepticon base with the usual slack database protection. Even a drone could hack those in less than a decabreem. But this one? He had never before encountered such difficulties in hacking through firewalls. "Frag it," he cursed when he ran into another dead end and had to back away a little before trying another route.
He never got around to a second attempt when the database suddenly shut down – completely. The shutdown was that unexpected that it blindsided him, and not only literally. No longer in possession of any sense of direction, he was trapped in the database until somebot manually pulled him out. And he couldn't inform Ricochet either, only hope that his comrade noticed and either tried to free him or get the Pit out.
As he also had no access to his chronometer, he couldn't tell how much time passed until he saw the light of day again. As soon as his visual returned, though, he wished it hadn't.
In front of him stood no other than Shockwave, Megatron's head scientist and most unpredictable Decepticon, and no sign of Ricochet anywhere, only more 'cons pointing their weapons at his spark. "Your attempt at infiltration has been most illogical," the scientist stated before, on silent command, the 'cons fired simultaneously, hitting him square on his chestplates. Another scream was ripped out of his vocalizer when his core spasmed in another wave of agony.
"Maybe you should dial down the power a little."
The pain diminished and he slumped, then metal collided with metal and a voice snarled, "I know what I'm doing so shut up and let me work!"
"He's never going to give us what we need that way. Maybe we should consider a cortical psychic patch instead."
"Hm…"
The reprieve didn't hold for long. Megatron stepped up to him, a triumphant grin on his faceplate. He started to speak, but he didn't bother listening. Instead, he pulled up the comm link and called Ratchet. /Howdy, how's it going?/
The response was a tense, /What's your status?/
If he'd been able to, he would have shrugged. /Well, Ah'm in./
/And?/
Before he could formulate a witty reply, Megatron bent down and pulled him roughly up by the nape of his neck. He found himself optic to optic with the no longer pleasant-looking 'con leader – posed or not. The servo holding his neck then tightened, and he had to grit his denta to keep his faceplate from showing how much that hurt.
/Jazz?/ came Ratchet via the comm, the tone worried.
He knew the time for jokes was over. There would not be another intervention by Air Raid to save his skidplates. /Ah guess Ah willna make it home for dinner,/ he sent in response.
For a moment he thought Megatron's tight grip had interrupted access to his comm as there was deep silence. But then Ratchet hotly demanded, /Say that again!/
Megatron furiously flung him away. He hit the wall and slid down, ending in a small heap on the ground.
Your wish is my command, he thought sarcastically before dutifully repeating, /Ah said Ah'm guessing Ah willna make it home for dinner./ His attention was redirected again when noticing two pedes stopping in front of his optics. His vision flickered for a moment and he was back in Stanix during the mission that cost Ricochet his life, Shockwave tonelessly stating, "Your attempt at infiltration has been most illogical," as if he was standing in front of him right now.
He shuttered his optics, grief soaring through his spark. If he hadn't failed back then, his brother would still be alive. At least this time it would only be his life they snuffed out.
The memory dissolved. He slowly moved until he could look up at Megatron. The Decepticon was staring down at him, his expression merciless. Closing his optics in acceptance, he mumbled, "Do yeh worst then," before adding via comm, /Oh, and Ratch? Just… take care of the rest, will ya?/
He never caught the medic's reply as a heavy blow to the back of his helm offlined him immediately.
"Come on, mech, online," a voice penetrated the hazy darkness.
His optics powered up. Ricochet was leaning over him. "Finally," his brother said. "Thought you'd never online again."
He slowly worked himself into a sitting position. "What happened?"
Ricochet chuckled. "Ye ran helm first against a force field."
He grimaced. "Don't tell me: The one we wanted ta hack?"
"Yep." Ricochet crouched down to be on optic level.
Rubbing the back of his helm, he looked at the older mech. "And they didn't notice yet?"
Ricochet chuckled again, his optics gleaming. "Nope. Lucky us." He winked, making him giggle.
Silence settled around them and he looked up at the starlit night-time sky. He felt peaceful, he felt free. "Ah wanna go and explore the worlds out there," he said reverently, "when Ah'm grown."
Ricochet too looked skyward. "A formidable function. Though I always thought you'd head toward security response, like me."
He grinned at his brother. "Ah'm gonna be both!"
"That's an option too," Ricochet confirmed with a fond smile, then stood. "Let's get going and check whether you're actually apt at hacking." He sprinted off.
Laughing in excitement at the unspoken challenge, he got to his pedes as well and followed the older mech.
Bittersweet sadness rang through every fiber of his self. "I'm sorry, brother," he murmured.
He was nudged again, this time more persistently.
"It wasn't your fault," Prowl said, determination ringing in his voice.
"Who says that's what's goin' through ma processor?" he snapped back, irritated that the other mech just wouldn't leave him be.
Sapphire blue optics narrowed a fraction. "I know you, Jazz. You're grieving."
"Ah'm fine, Prowler," he grumbled and looked away, no longer able to stand the other's stare that seemed to penetrate his armor. "Ya needn't have come."
"Yeah, well, Prowl didn't come. But he'd be happy to have you back."
It was like emerging from deep stasis: One moment everything was still fuzzy and unarticulated, the next the world around him had sharpened. The voice having spoken… he knew it, couldn't yet place it though. Its words stirred something in the back of his processor though, and with great effort, Jazz started working on disentangling himself from the hazy plague that was his memories.
"Can't we get him down first?" a second voice asked.
The first answered, "No. We're too small to catch him, and letting him just drop on the floor is not an option in his condition."
"How are we going to get him down by the way?"
His processor finished the boot-up sequence, and Jazz ran several system scans, then focused on rerouting energy – what was left anyway – to essential systems before onlining his optics. The sight greeting him came as a surprise. "Steelie?" he croaked, his voice box not functioning properly. "Jack?"
"Would've brought the cavalry if it had been of any use," Blaster's symbiote replied before adding, "Will you stand when we let you down?"
Jazz looked around to assess the situation. He was chained to the ceiling, his pedes dangling a little over the floor. Normally, the drop wouldn't be a problem – yet his condition was less than ideal. He was severely injured in several places, and whilst he wasn't in immediate danger of deactivation from lack of energon, his reserves were alarmingly low. In addition, his spark pulsed irregularly and his sensor net screamed in pain, current and remembered, his HUD clogged with warning messages. Any lesser bot would be in stasis with such a condition, but he couldn't afford succumbing to the darkness that still licked at his consciousness; it would mean signing his own deactivation warrant. "Yes," he therefore replied with a croak, but instead of letting his fellow Autobot get him down, he asked, "How are we goin' ta get out if it's only ye two havin' come ta mah rescue?"
Jack and Steeljaw shared a long look, the former's expression especially telling, then the symbiote admitted, "I was hoping you'd have an idea."
He snorted softly, sagging a little against the restraints holding him. The energy cut into his wiring and he grimaced at the additional pain. He waited until his abused sensor calmed down again a little, then pondered the problem of escape for a moment, but came to no solution. "How did ye get in?" he asked, curious about whether their method could be implemented to include him.
"By a crack in the outer wall and then through air vents," Steeljaw replied and Jazz knew that wouldn't work for him.
"Nearly walked into Starscream and Knockout too," Jack added and shuddered.
Jazz frowned. He had only vague memories of the two 'cons 'interrogating' him and felt he was missing something important, but whenever he tried to focus, it slipped his mind completely. After several moments of silent ponderings, he shook his helm; he'd need a good long recharge to completely defrag his processor. "Ah suppose both were barely wide enough ta admit the two of ya. Ah'll never make it out that way."
"Thought as much but I'm stumped on alternatives," Steeljaw stated.
Jack glared at the symbiote. "You said you'd think of something," he hissed.
"I said we'd cross that bridge when we get there," came the reply.
Forehead furrowed in an angry frown that quickly morphed into pensiveness, Jack looked down at the floor before his head snapped back up all of a sudden not a second later. "The phase shifter," he exclaimed. "Do you still have it?"
Everyone looked up at Jazz's wrists – which were barren. "Apparently not," the saboteur murmured.
"What does it look like?" Steeljaw asked. "I might be able to retrieve it for you."
Jazz sent his comrade a brief data burst of images, surprised to find out in the process that his comm was still functional. He didn't get a reception for anybot but Steeljaw, though; the room was apparently heavily shielded from the outside.
Steeljaw's optics flickered as he accessed the information, then the little symbiote's expression turned pensive. "I think I've seen it mentioned in their database." He looked at the door, contemplative for an astrosecond, then took two steps before halting again and turning back to Jack. "Stay here, I'll go get it."
The teenager nodded in agreement and asked, "Shouldn't we let Jazz down first though?" He pointed at the still bound saboteur.
It was Jazz himself who answered, "No." Jack's eyes snapped up to his optics, their expression incredulous, so he hastened to explain, "If a 'con comes in, they will become suspicious if Ah'm no longer bound. Get the phase shifter first before releasing meh."
Steeljaw nodded, immediately understanding his reasoning, and left quickly, leaving Jack alone with him. With the symbiote gone, darkness descended over them. Jazz had no problem seeing the human, but he doubted the kid possessed night vision abilities.
The teenager squinted into the darkness, as if searching for something, but gave it up again soon after with an annoyed sigh. He then looked back up at Jazz. "Doesn't that hurt you?" he asked, both confused and angry at the same time, the tone hinting that he was apparently still unconvinced that leaving him bound was the best for now.
Jazz smiled ruefully even though the kid wouldn't be able to see it. "Like Pit but it's for tha better, trust meh."
Silence settled over them, only interrupted by Jack huffing to himself before muttering, "I don't like that. It makes me feel helpless." He looked up at Jazz again. "We could get you down but don't. You're still suffering and I'm doing nothing to change that."
Jazz's expression softened; the kid had his heart in the right place. "Donna worry about meh," he replied quietly, hoping to reassure him. "Ah've been through worse."
Sighing, Jack mumbled, "Steeljaw said as much. I don't think I want to ever know what you consider as 'worse.'"
Jazz averted his gaze as grief rose deep within his spark; unbidden, the faceplates of his brother materialized in his mind. He shuttered his optics and ex-vented hard, stomping the memory back down. This was not the right time to remember the dead.
When he reopened his optic shutters, his gaze fell onto Jack who was watching him closely. Could the kid see him after all? This time, Jack's expression was unreadable; all Jazz could detect was a contemplative air to the teen's posture. He wondered what was going through the boy's mind.
They studied each other like that for several long moments, engulfed in silence which slowly became tense. Eventually, Jack's eyes widened and lit up with sudden understanding. "Your brother died," he then whispered. "Because of you?" Then his eyes shot up, guilt flashing through them, and he averted his gaze, ashamed.
Was he that readable? Jazz wondered and ex-vented again, stubbornly suppressing the grief that wanted to overcome him.
"I'm sorry," Jack then said. Whether he referred to his insensitive comment or Jazz's loss wasn't clear, but Jazz nonetheless appreciated the honest sympathies the apology conveyed.
"Jack?" When he had the teen's attention, Jazz softly said, "It's okay; don't feel bad because of meh. It happened a long time ago."
The kid fully faced him, his expression hinting at the emotional chaos raging just beneath the surface. "Maybe, but it doesn't make it any better," he ground out, frustration seeping into his voice, and Jazz once again wondered what he was referring to.
Whatever Jazz might have wanted to reply went forgotten when the door suddenly swished open. Jack froze for a moment before darting into the cover of a corner in self-preservation. Jazz of course had nowhere to go and could only tense in dreading anticipation.
Thankfully, it was only Steeljaw. "Found it," he announced as soon as the door closed behind him again. He pulled the shape shifter out of his subspace pocket and laid it onto the floor in front of Jazz, then partially transformed to illuminate the chamber again.
The saboteur's armor flared in relief. Jack slowly crawled out of his hiding place. "Don't do that again," he complained. "I just died there."
The symbiote leveled a confused look in his direction. "Your fuel pump has picked up activity but you are still walking under your own power, meaning you are still very much alive and did not die."
Jack blushed. "It's an expression," he explained before rhetorically adding in a grumble, "Do you take everything I say at face value?" Jazz snickered, but his frame protested the movement with another bolt of pain shooting through his sensor net. He winced, the snicker morphing into a hiss.
"I see," was Steeljaw's response to that. Then he looked back up at Jazz. "I also found out where they're holding Prime and – you won't believe it – Silverbolt and Slingshot."
Jazz perked up at that. "Are they still alive?" he asked urgently, trying to ignore the discomfort he was in.
"I suppose so." /The logs I found indicate recent 'interrogation',/ he added via comm, probably to spare the kid. /Though we both know what the 'cons mean by that. But it's also the chance for us; they needn't be 'interrogated' were they dead./
/Precisely,/ Jazz agreed, his optics gleaming while his processor started pondering how best to proceed with freeing them. "We need to get them out," he then said out loud.
The alarm that shot through both Steeljaw and Jack at his announcement was unmistakable. "Not a chance," the symbiote then said. Jazz leveled a heated glare down at his comrade which the small mech withstood easily. "It's only Jack and me, and if I understood that right, the phase shifter will work only for one bot," he explained before adding imploringly, "You are injured, Jazz. You cannot seriously believe you'll be able to free Prime and the Aerials in your current condition."
He couldn't but see the truth in that statement. Which ultimately meant one thing:
"Then rescue Prime first."
Jack's eyes widened whilst Steeljaw's optics narrowed. "To what end? That they can kill you in the meanwhile?"
"Prime's more important than Ah am," he snapped back. "Donna make meh make it an order, Steelie."
The symbiote's armor flared in anger and frustration. "You can try, but then you'll have to put me on trial for insubordination." He took a step closer, the optics narrowing. "The 'cons know how precious Prime is to us. They won't kill him immediately, instead drag it out as long as they can. You, however, whilst being our third-in-command and slagging best saboteur, are worthless as soon as they have whatever intelligence they can pick out of your processor. So like it or not, we're going to get you out right now and rescue Prime later."
Silence rang in the chamber following that heated declaration, the two Autobots glaring at each other in a battle of wills. Usually, Jazz won any such duels, but not this time. It was him that eventually backed down by averting his optics, bowing to the wisdom of the small mech.
Contentedly, Steeljaw lifted his chin and walked over to the door. "Prepare for the drop." Jazz then watched the symbiote take a running-jump to the panel next to the door and press a button. He steeled himself mentally as well as physically. A moment later, he felt the energy holding the chains sizzle out. The chains sprung aside and released him.
The drop was even more jarring than expected. Instead of gracefully landing on his pedes, he immediately slumped to his knees, his vents heaving in exhaustion – as if he'd run across the Badlands rather than just dropping from minimum height – and his HUD overflowing with error messages. But he had no time to contemplate the severity of his injuries because in exactly that moment, the door swished open –
– and Knockout entered.