Chapter 7
Jazz sat with his legs crossed, hands in his lap and his back pressed to the cool wall of his cell. Autobot law stated that in cases where injury was caused but not with intent to kill, the guilty party could only be brought to trial when the injured brought charges against them. Until Prowl regained consciousness, and for his own protection, Jazz was relegated to solitary confinement in the brig.
The Special Ops officer sighed and picked listlessly at the ragged edge of the tire in his calf. After meeting with Chief long enough to hand over the doctored distributor cap, he had driven to his patrol route and used a knife to slash his own tires, running the rest of the way back to the Ark and damaging his ankle joint in the process.
Short cuts and a fair dint of reckless driving had allowed him enough time to perform his distasteful task. Shame and guilt had kept him from going to get repairs. Jazz knew that if he had stepped inside the Repair Bay the smells of metabolised energon, oil and hydraulic fluid would have driven him to premature confession. Ironically, when Mirage had jumped him he had been on his way to Prime's office to spill the entire story.
A shadow of a wry smile ghosted across Jazz's face. He knew that he'd left enough clues to eventually get caught, but he hadn't expected anyone to put them together that quickly. And seeing how some of those clues had been restricted to officers only, Mirage obviously hadn't lost his knack with locks and security systems either.
He leaned back and let his head touch the wall, shutting off his optics and sensing the vibrations of feet and voices and life further on and higher up in the base traveling through the walls. A particularly strong tremor rippled through the metal. Jazz imagined it to be one of Wheeljack's experiments gone haywire as usual. Or maybe the twins were roughhousing again in the rec room, that wasn't too far away, the vibrations could have easily traveled the distance. A drumroll of thuds could have easily been the Dinobots walking down a hall, a low drone the engine of someone heading out for patrol.
Something changed.
Jazz snapped his optics on again, his honed sensors easily picking up the tell tale signs of another's passage. Air moved, the floor vibrated, latent energy readings altered, the slightest whiff of energon accompanied by the hiss and slide of pistons and gears. A section of wall rippled like water, revealing a glossy frame painted midnight blue and two optics that glowed a sooty, flame like orange.
"Well now, how the trusted have fallen." The newcomer sneered.
"Chief." Jazz growled, coming to his feet and facing the glowing energy bars. "Whadda you doin' in here riskin' your hide?"
The Neutral smirked. "Just checking up on my old buddy Hi-Line." He replied, using the pseudonym that Jazz had adopted all those years ago. "I didn't actually think you could do it." Chief continued. "Shooting your friend in cold oil like that. It seems that your time in the clan served you well."
"So you're here to gloat? Seems kinda petty t' me." Jazz shot back, arms crossed over his chest.
"I'm here to make you pay." Chief growled. "As you can see, I can get in and out of this place easily enough. I could have killed both you and Prowl myself, not to mention half this base. Ah, but to cause you, my once trusted ally, to kill your friend is so much more fun."
"I doubt you'll be 'round too much longer t' enjoy it." The black and white said calmly. "I sent off a message t' Cybertron 'fore I got caught. They'll have staked out every space port from here t' the Galactic Fringe. Not t' mention th' 'cons have a real distaste fer Neutrals, an' Megatron is sure t' have decoded th' message an' put a bounty on y' by now."
Chief smirked again. "By 'they' I assume that this belonged to one of them?" He asked, pulling a small item from subspace and tossing it through the humming bars. Jazz caught the object and examined it for a moment, the silver links of a fine chain glittering against his black painted hand. Something inside him snapped and he lunged for the other mech, fingers stiffened into claws, only to let out a yelp of pain as he hit the energy bars and ricocheted off them.
The Neutral laughed as Jazz staggered drunkenly, hitting a wall with his shoulder and finally sliding to the floor. "Too much passion Jazz, too much fire." He chided. "Revenge must never be taken in the heat of the moment. It must be drawn out and allowed to brew, lingering and savoured." Chief placed a device over the door lock and the energy bars shorted out. The midnight blue mech stepped inside and roughly hauled Jazz to his feet, a hook-pointed knife glinting from his clenched fist. "It's a shame you won't be able to learn from this lesson." He smiled cruelly, fingers wrapped around Jazz's throat.
Jazz, still reeling from slamming into the energy bars, could only bite back a scream as Chief found a seam in his armour and slowly pushed the knife into his right side. The black and white knew exactly what Chief was going to do, he'd been unfortunate enough to see a mech dispatched in this manner during his undercover op.
Chief pushed the knife about halfway in, then twisted it to split the seam. Jazz's knees buckled from the pain, but the much stronger Chief kept him pinned. Then, excruciating slowly, Chief drew the blade back out, a bundle of half cut wires and tubing snagged in the hook point of the knife. The Autobot wasn't able to contain his cry of pain this time. Grinning like a mad-mech, the Neutral shook the knife free and shifted his grip to plunge it in again.
Clink
"Care telling me what you're doing in here?" A familiar voice asked. Chief stiffened and froze as a gun muzzle tapped the back of his head. Through the blinding haze of agony, Jazz managed to force out one word. "'Raj."
The blue and white spy faded into view. "I would advise you drop the knife. There are two more Autobots on their way, and you can't possibly fight us all."
"I don't have to." Chief replied, jabbing the knife point under Jazz's chin. "I suggest you put down the gun, or else your friend here gets it."
Mirage's reply was to thumb the safety off his gun. "Drop it." He growled, his cultured tones taking on a sinister edge.
"You're an Autobot, you wouldn't kill a mech." Chief replied, but Jazz could detect a slight quaver in his voice.
"Says who?" Mirage asked. "I could shoot you right now, quickly and fairly painlessly. But Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, they're a different story all together, and they're almost here. Now, drop the knife and put your hands behind your head. You have until the count of five. One, two, three…"
The knife clattered to the ground, quickly followed by Jazz as the black and white lost his battle to stay online.