Part 26
Ironhide and Jazz skidded to a stop at the brig just as the screams came to a sudden halt. Exchanging a look, the two went inside as Jazz motioned for his bots Bumblebee and Mirage to stay close on his heels. Starscream's mercurial moods could mean anything, and none of them took the jet lightly.
Inside the brig, however, they found Optimus already standing by the cell, one hand raised toward Skyfire who still crouched over Starscream. None of them moved as if locked in a detente.
Jazz shot a quick glimpse at Soundwave. The carrier sat in a corner, hands pressed against his audios, his ridges furrowed as if he'd been in pain. He bit his lip, optics trained on the standoff between Skyfire and Optimus.
"I realize your relationship with Starscream is...complex," Optimus said, still focused on the shuttle. "Regardless, you cannot do this to a prisoner. We'd consider it cruel if a Decepticon did this to an Autobot prisoner."
In the cell, Skyfire remained still, one hand pinning Starscream's arms, his other hand still holding the solvent over the smudged purple decal. He didn't argue or defend himself. His optics focused on Optimus, then slid back to Starscream.
"Did you hear that?" Skyfire said. "My commander has ordered me to stop."
Starscream stared at him with wide optics, his vents sounding as loud as his screams. His look darted from Skyfire to Optimus, then back, his mouth a wide O.
"If you don't say anything," Skyfire said, "I have to stop."
Starscream's vent caught. Disbelief turned to horror, and his face tightened as he realized what Skyfire was demanding. He shook his head once, slowly.
Skyfire waited another moment. When Starscream stayed silent, he exhaled, then shifted his weight to get up.
"No!"
Optimus startled back a step as Starscream shot up, grabbing Skyfire's hand and holding it tight. Solvent splashed across them both, leaving a streak of white across Starscream's chest. The sudden movement made Ironhide pull his rifle at the same time that Jazz did, and both of them took steady aim at the Decepticon's helm.
"Don't make him stop." Starscream squeezed his optics shut, pressing against Skyfire's arm. "I can't do this without him. I'm not strong enough."
"What are you talking about?" Optimus demanded. "Primus, neither of you are making any sense."
Like grinding gears, a high-pitched keen came out of Starscream and his heels made tiny rapid kicks of frustration on the floor. Skyfire held him, stroking his back, and he turned the jet to better face Optimus.
"I can't do this without him," Starscream said, feeling his faceplate burn hot with humiliation. "I've been a Decepticon for millenia, and...I couldn't stop. Not even for Skyfire—he had to force me. He had to..."
His voice hitched again. Above his helm, Optimus and Skyfire exchanged a look, and Skyfire couldn't help but glance at the mechs behind his commander, their guns drawn.
Sir, Skyfire commed Optimus, please give him a moment—
Skyfire, tell me you're not coaching him, Optimus demanded.
What—no! Skyfire blinked as if he hadn't considered that. He's just embarrassed.
Why? Optimus said. Removing his decals? If this is part of your berth habits-
"I can't do it by myself," Starscream said, oblivious to the conversation over his head. His trembling vents began to settle as Skyfire kept rubbing his wings. "He has to be the one to take them off. I...the decals have to come off, but..."
His voice trailed off. No one moved, least of all Ironhide and Jazz.
"'Well'?" Skyfire prompted, wary of the rifles still trained on his jet.
"I can't say it out loud just like that!" Starscream whined. "Leave me some dignity at least!"
"What dignity?" Ironhide muttered.
"No, no, I think I get it," Optimus said, one hand against his helm in exasperation. "Primus, I've seen Decepticons torturing Autobots that didn't make such a fuss."
"Well," Jazz whispered, "he's called Starscream for a reason."
Behind Optimus, Jazz kept his rifle trained on Starscream, trying to keep a bead on the mech's helm without putting Skyfire in the line of fire. While the drama unfolded in front of him—and he wondered just how much patience his commander had before he just couldn't deal with Starscream anymore—
A whisper came from his left. Barely audible, Soundwave called out Jazz's name, then crept a little closer when he didn't seem to hear.
"Jazz-"
"I heard ya," Jazz hissed. "An' unless you got some magical insight to that dumb jet's cortex, then I don't wanna hear ya."
Soundwave took a deep vent, biting his lip in what Jazz was coming to see as a nervous habit of his. And as Soundwave glanced at Starscream again, looking back at Jazz with a grimace, the Autobot felt a sinking sensation to the depths of his spark chamber.
"All right," Jazz sighed. "I'm gonna regret this, and I'm sure I'll need a strong hit of high grade afterward, but...go on."
"'Starscream, Starburst'," Soundwave said, rushing so that his hollow voice slurred his words, "part twenty. Starscream, captured by Skyfire and forcibly converted to Autobot faction. Starscream, most comfortable when ordered."
It was impossible not to overhear in the cramped brig, and while Starscream groaned, Jazz and Ironhide both stared in surprise at the sudden new information. Jazz's system slipped into higher gear, and his engine coughed once as he forced it to slow again. He glanced at Ironhide and frowned at the older mech's knowing snort.
Optimus sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Soundwave. "Just to make sure I have this straight, the illusion of being forced makes it easier for him to actually surrender?"
Soundwave nodded. "Affirmative. And his berth habits reflect his sense of military protocol."
As one, all of them turned to look back at Starscream, who'd overheated from his faceplate to his pedes. His wings still flared back, displaying the streak of purple dripping onto the flor. So not only had Skyfire been caught bending brig protocol, but he and Starscream had been caught mixing the war with their berth games. Skyfire, however, refused to show any embarassment. As far as he was concerned, this was simply a necessary step in his lover's continuing surrender.
Deciding that Starscream was not a threat, Ironhide stood straight, stowing his rifle. He exchanged a quick nod with Jazz, venting once in annoyance.
"Gotta admit," Ironhide said, "didn't see that coming. And it makes all the time Megacreep smacked him just that much more intriguing."
"I'm going upstairs," Optimus said, already walking past them. "Jazz, as soon as they're ready, get someone to escort those two to an interrogation room. I need to deal with this today and I have other fires to put out."
"Sir, yes sir," Jazz said softly, backing out of his way and stowing his rifle.
"Might wanna keep a careful watch on 'em," Ironhide whispered as he went by. "You an' Prowl could get ideas."
Oh, like the Pit was he going to put up with whatever garbage Ironhide wanted to smirk about. The red bot usually got away with his snark by virtue of being out of the chain of command, but as far as Jazz was concerned, that chain was just a guideline showing him where to leave his bribes to smooth over any hurt feelings or singed afts.
Go ahead—keep pushing, Jazz warned him, grinning without a touch of humor. You been acting like a smug scrap of tinfoil since all this slag started. What if I ask ol' Shakespeare here to turn his tender mercies on a new main character?
The red mech's denta clicked shut. He glanced at Soundwave, who narrowed his gold optics as he realized they were talking about him. Ironhide scanned Jazz's face for the clues to just how resolved the bot was to following up on that threat. The steady glow of his visor, the slightest uptick to his mouth, the way his faint vent raised his hood and his helm followed, lifting in confidence.
"You wouldn't," Ironhide said slowly, testing Jazz's resolve.
"Hey, Soundwave," Jazz said, still looking only at Ironhide. "Think you could use Ironhide here for a new series?"
Soundwave's engine rumbled at Jazz noticing him, and his look briefly rested on Ironhide before snapping back to Jazz's doorwings. Wishing the smaller bot would turn and look at him, Soundwave nodded.
"Stories, easy to craft," Soundwave said. "Soft Bots for Ironhide's Discipline-"
"Whoa—" Ironhide said, glancing between Soundwave and Jazz, not sure who to focus on. "No one said nothin' 'bout the kinky stuff-"
"Abnormal Spark Impulses: Sparks of Perversion," Soundwave said.
"That could be about anyone—!"
"Ironhide's Autoerotic Armory Ardour—"
"Okay, I give!" Ironhide smiled, chuckled and took a step back, hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine... You play too rough. I'll save my teasing for Red Alert an' Perceptor."
Jazz's smile didn't change, and it followed Ironhide out until the door fell shut again. With a long vent, Jazz stretched, easing the twists in his cables that came from tensing too much. Ironhide had a habit of pushing too much, but he should have known that interfacing was a sore topic with Jazz—finally exploring a little plug and play with Prowl, after being forced into tactile with...
He vented again. With the very mech he'd just used like another tool in his arsenal, and who'd played along perfectly. Jazz glanced over his shoulder.
"Thanks, mech," he said softly. "That was cool."
"...approval, appreciated."
Jazz didn't look at him, didn't reply. Just walked out, pinging Skyfire to hurry the Pit up.
Starscream had finally gone silent, probably in recharge. Soundwave heard his vents around the corner, deep and constant. Whatever the Prime had said to him and Skyfire, their dual interrogation had apparently settled Starscream's spark so that the the Decepticon said nothing when his Autobot mate brought him back.
Subdued, his wings clean of any decals, Starscream had quietly walked beside Skyfire, holding his hand despite the stasis cuffs around his own wrists. He'd looked exhausted, dragging his pedes, but a smile had curved the mech's faceplate. There were no screams, no protests, not even the sulky grumblings that always accompanied one of Megatron's orders. Nothing but Starscream's calm acceptance and contented gaze up at Skyfire, staring with all the devotion of a loyal pet.
How the Prime had tamed such a high strung mech, Soundwave doubted he would ever know, but Optimus had done it. What Megatron couldn't achieve in long millenia, Optimus Prime accomplished in one meeting.
Truly divine.
"You get lost in thought pretty easy."
Called back from his reverie, Soundwave bolted straight in his corner, optics wide, his mouth tense as if he expected an attack. Even in the heart of the Autobot base, he couldn't help startling badly, not with the threat of Megatron looming over him. True, that threat was only at 12.4%, but it demanded disproportionate attention.
Instead of Megatron, however, he found Jazz unlocking his door.
"No wonder you hide behind your visor," Jazz chuckled, tapping his own once. "But I don't think you'd wanna miss this."
"Boss!"
The cell door opened, and Soundwave's look slid to the floor. A sharp intake of his vents, and he threw his arms open wide as Frenzy and Ravage came in. His oldest cassette's paws were scratched, as were Frenzy's pedes, reminiscent of sand damage, but both showed signs of polish and sealant, and their optics, though dim, were at least equally dim. Unequal optics would have meant cortex damage of some kind.
He pinged his cassettes communication lines and received no reply, but that didn't surprise him. The Autobots didn't trust them enough to allow them closed messages. No matter. He could see them, hold them. It was far more than he'd expected. Both of them wore stasis restraints, with two cuffs around one of Ravage's paws—along with their wireless communications array being silenced, they couldn't transform into cassettes. But he could bring them up on his lap, nestled against himself.
"They're still a little shaky from crossing the desert," Jazz said, locking the cell again. "The sand tore 'em up, especially inside, but Ratchet says they'll be okay soon enough."
Soundwave heard him but barely listened, instead pulling his cassettes close. Ravage lowered his head and curled against his casing, content to snatch a quick recharge in his arms, while Frenzy grinned and sat up, scanning Soundwave's exposed faceplate.
"Wow, boss," he said, looking from the patch job on his casing to his optics. "I knew they'd probably work you over, but geez. They didn't even let you keep your mask?"
Frenzy put his hand on the plating with its new lack of any insignia. He leaned back, trying to see any other changes to Soundwave's frame or colors.
"Assumption, incorrect," Soundwave said, putting a hand on Frenzy's back so he didn't lean too far and fall. "Mask and visor, willingly removed."
"What?" Frenzy vented. He looked at Jazz in confirmation, gaping at his nod, then back at Soundwave. "You're kidding. You never takes it off for nobody."
"Correct," Soundwave said, his vocal processor lowering volume. He didn't want to answer further, but he couldn't reply privately and his cassette deserved more of an answer than that. "Jazz...not nobody."
Ravage twitched but didn't say anything. He'd been with Soundwave the longest, for far more vorn before the war even began. Before Soundwave succumbed to paranoia or fell to the Decepticon cause or ever put on his mask and visor.
Frenzy, however, sharply intaked as his jaw dropped. He stared at Jazz again, this time looking the Autobot over fully, and he frowned as if he didn't like what he saw.
"Seriously, boss..." Frenzy said, still peering at Jazz. "Tell me one reason why that lousy little minibot is worth all this slag?"
Outside the cell, Jazz put one hand on his hip, tilting his helm as if Frenzy was cute to think he was allowed an opinion. "'Minibot'? You're one to talk, pintsize."
Ignoring him, Frenzy waved one hand at the walls around them. The brig, the bars, the scary medical berth in the center, the Autobot guard and the entire faction all around them. Soundwave had given up being third in command of the Decepticon forces for this? For Jazz?
Soundwave vented, considering his answer.
Recognizing that look, Frenzy frowned. "And don't say he's shiny."
Soundwave's jaw shut with a click. Jazz had to keep from snorting. The Decepticon looked so annoyed that Jazz was reminded of Bluestreak when particularly frustrated. Soundwave's ridges furrowed, his mouth pursed, and his optics flared in annoyance as his faceplate warmed.
"Jazz, superior," Soundwave finally answered.
"Why?" Frenzy demanded. "I ain't believing he can do all that slag you write him doing."
"Frenzy-"
"Boss, we crossed the desert for you," Frenzy said, unflinching as he held Soundwave's look. "We left Megatron. Laserbeak's still getting oil flushed through her system. So...why?"
The flush vanished from Soundwave's faceplate. His optics opened to such a degree that Jazz lightly took hold of the cell bars, staring openly at the mech's face. Well framed, certainly, with appealing golden optics, sure, but it was Soundwave's reaction to his cassette that drew Jazz's rapt attention.
Jazz didn't quite understand what Blaster had meant about being linked with his cassettes. They weren't lovers, they weren't pets, and they weren't peripheral equipment. But here he began to understand. Soundwave called the shots but Frenzy had just made a demand, and damned if Soundwave didn't look like he had to answer.
The larger mech's guard completely dropped. Being in the brig demanded some sense of protecting himself, some semblance of a shield even as he struggled to convince the Autobots of his intention. But Frenzy's question cut straight to his spark, and Soundwave—for an instant—looked at a complete loss.
Especially as he glanced slowly to the side and saw that Jazz had no intention of leaving. The smaller bot shifted on his pedes to lean against the bars, only inches away.
"Don't mind me," Jazz said, but there was lack of humor in his voice. He met Soundwave's look steadily, without even a smirk. "I've been wondering the same thing."
Soundwave bit his lip. Jazz half-smiled, more in surprise than amusement. What kind of programming did Soundwave prioritize so highly that he'd never downloaded even the slightest social protocols?
"Jazz..." Soundwave said slowly. "Superior."
"You always say superior," Frenzy sighed. "What else?"
"Jazz, chaotic," Soundwave said, speaking as if he were reading off a list he'd been compiling for ages. "Unpredictable. Impossible to anticipate and, at best, difficult to detect. Jazz, paradoxical understanding of both sound and silence."
He paused, hoping that would satisfy Frenzy. When his cassette leaned back in his hands and began tapping his pede impatiently, Soundwave huffed.
"Autobot, regularly infiltrates Decepticon bases. This suggests understanding of enemy thought and reactions. Understanding the enemy..." Soundwave caught his breath, gritting his denta, then groaned as he fought past his processors slowing out of sync. "...allowed Jazz to recognize my defection attempt."
"Uh-huh," Frenzy said, tilting his helm. "Boss, you been firewalling parts of your cortex from us for awhile now. You had tons of times you could'a just walked away. Why didn't you call him up before? And why him?"
"Decepticon high command does not just 'call up' to defect," Soundwave said softly, keenly aware of Jazz's presence but resigned to explaining. "Approach of Autobot base by Decepticon high command, inadvisable."
"Got that right," Jazz nodded. "We got a lot of twitchy snipers that'll take the purple off a Decepticon from five miles out."
"You sneak in all the time," Frenzy argued. "You just waltz in and out. You saying boss couldn'a gotten in, too?"
"Negative," Soundwave answered before Jazz could. "Soundwave, Communications. Jazz, Special Operative. Also, Jazz superior."
"You keep saying that," Jazz said, leaning against the door. "What exactly do you mean? My superior aft? My superior frame? My superior taste in music?"
"Superior combat skills."
His ridges furrowing, Jazz's faint smile faded. "'Combat'-?"
"Viewed security footage of Jazz's infiltration. Autobot..." Soundwave lowered his helm, taking a long vent, then composed himself again and continued. "Impossible to avoid thinking about. Daring. Brave. Clever. Escape during full base lockdown in Burma, brilliant."
Jazz frowned in thought. "You saw me?"
"After careful review of security footage," Soundwave nodded too quickly, looking up at him with sudden fervor that Jazz stepped back. "Difficult to spot, but your use of space between the walls, inspired. And the way you drove out at top speed, transformed into rootmode midair to jump the blockade, then landed on four wheels—!"
As Soundwave grew more animated, forgetting to be embarrassed, Jazz leaned close again, studying him much the way Soundwave had studied his own missions. The more and more Soundwave forgot himself, the more he acted like Bumblebee or First Aid reading one of their lousy stories. The larger mech's optics widened in excitement as he described Jazz's missions, summing up his jobs as if they'd been daring adventures.
"Soundwave..." Jazz murmured. "Those weren't fun. You're making them out to be joyrides."
Soundwave froze, and his growing smile suddenly flattened. His shoulders slumped down again, and he lowered his head.
"Negative. Not joyrides." Soundwave looked up at him, his faceplate tightening. "Lost several good mechs. Nearly lost Laserbeak to your shooting. Spent two orn in medbay from your explosives. Not joyrides. But...still admirable."
"I killed mechs," Jazz said as if Soundwave had forgotten. "Your own mechs. I tried to kill you so many times I lost count. How can you call that admirable?"
For a long moment, Soundwave couldn't answer. His jaw worked wordlessly and he looked at the floor, then at Frenzy. The cassette shrugged with a quick headshake.
"Don't ask me, boss. You're the one who fell for a civvie."
Soundwave pressed his lips together in annoyance, then shook his head, refusing to accept that. "Jazz, impeccable skill. Skills require discipline, intelligence. Jazz superior, therefore discipline, intelligence superior."
Jazz's fingers curled around the bars, his gaze trailing away from Soundwave, staring through the wall into nothing. "Mech...you can word it as fancy as you like. Still sounds like I'm some great murderer."
Ratios flashed in front of Soundwave's optics. Jazz's demeanor, his distant look, his sotto sound, the decrease of his fans—83% probability that this topic was painful. And 67% that Jazz had debated this with himself before, to a negative conclusion.
"Not murderer!" Soundwave sat straighter, cradling Ravage in one arm while holding Frenzy from falling off altogether. "Autobot force, largely civilian. Would not understand warbuild culture—"
Jazz frowned, optics narrowing. Soundwave corrected himself before Jazz could.
"Would not be comfortable with warbuild culture," he said, checking what he might say next for offense. The strain of self-correction crossed with the need to explain himself quickly overtaxed his usual speaking processors, and his vocal patterns began to break down. "Autobots, Decepticons, different but not alien. We don't admire the killing-"
"You just said-"
"The war is inescapable," Soundwave broke. "You can't help it. But the precision, the way you destroy only what you meant to, only kill who you had to, your targets..."
"I'm an admirable killer," Jazz muttered.
"Soldier," Soundwave said firmly. "Who looks at a Decepticon base and sees mechs, not 'filthy 'cons'." The only mech I could hope would see a glitching carrier, not an easy target."
For the first time that Jazz had spoken to him, had ever heard him speak, Soundwave's voice changed pitch. Subtly, but it altered. He wondered if he noticed only because he'd never before spoken to the former Decepticon converse for so long.
"Jazz, Autobot," Soundwave said. "Brave. Cunning. Confident of conviction. Not glitching every moment because all his convictions and beliefs were built on a lie."
For a long moment, Jazz watched him without answering. Soundwave professed all this admiration and understanding, admitted to studying Jazz and learning his moves and style. But then—instead of just opening a comline with him—abducted and assaulted him instead.
Without another word, Frenzy settled in the crook of Soundwave's arm and knocked his helm against Ravage, slipping into recharge beside the other cassette. Soundwave readjusted them more comfortably against his frame. When he looked up, Jazz was gone.
Tbc...