Author's Notes: Hi guys, I'm back! This chapter was supposed to be longer, but the scenes took more time than originally anticipated so I'm posting it as-is so you guys will have a chapter sooner. I also wanted to share a realization I had a few days ago, though you're all smart and probably already knew this. I always assumed Galvatron got his name because it combined the terms "Megatron" and "Galvanized Steel". Turns out though that galvanism is a currently discredited science popularized in the 19th century that involved attempting to reanimate corpses using electricity. So Galvatron likely got his name from the fact that in his original movie appearance Unicron effectively used his electrical powers to raise Megatron from near death. Yeah...this probably isn't news to anyone else...
Chapter 9
Shift
"You are certain?" Optimus asked Bumblebee after hearing him out.
"That's what he said. A city-former," Bumblebee confirmed, "We've gotta save Red Alert before that giant tears him apart!"
"Indeed," Optimus nodded as he turned to several gathered Autobots, "Ultra Magnus, Hot Rod, and Kup. I want you three to take Metroplex to Red Alert's coordinates for a rescue mission. Be very careful to stay away from populated areas. Humans are smaller than minibots and cannot handle a lot of pressure."
"Got it. No squishing," Hot Rod replied nonchalantly, "We can handle it, Prime."
"Hey!" Grimlock suddenly shouted from the doorway, "We Dinobots want to go too!"
"Yeah, we want to fight!" Slag added gamely.
"I would not suggest bringing the Dinobots along," Ultra Magnus contended, "They are creations of the traitor and might be secretly working for Megatron."
"Hey! We no am traitors!" Slag snapped in offense, "Me Slag no take that from big blue truck! We fight!"
"I do not intend to fight with- oof!" Ultra Magnus couldn't even finish his sentence before Slag tackled him and tried to use his horns to stab his optics!
Ultra Magnus held back the triceratops, who looked more like a raging bull than an Autobot at this point. Grimlock transformed into robot mode and dragged Slag off Ultra Magnus, but likewise gave the unit commander the skunk-optic.
"Me Grimlock order you Slag to stop!" Grimlock boomed as he threw Slag onto his side and held him down, "We not fight Autobots! We am Autobots!"
"Him blue boy call us Dinobots traitors!" Slag screamed as he struggled with Grimlock, "We no am traitors! We am Dinobots! We best fighters and they no care! We no mean anything to them!"
"Stop it! Stop fighting!" Swoop shrieked, "Him Red Alert in danger! We need do something now!"
"Optimus?" Kup spoke over the chaos, "If the Dinobots wanna lend a servo I don't mind. I could use the company, and it's always fun to watch Ultra Magnus squirm. If what we're dealing with is as bad as Red Alert indicated, then we'll need all the help we can get."
"Very well," Optimus agreed, "Ultra Magnus, you and I will ride in Omega Supreme. Kup, Hot Rod, and Dinobots, you ride in Metroplex. Ultra Magnus, I also insist we take Ratchet with us. Red Alert might need a medic."
"Yes, sir," Ultra Magnus replied professionally; able to pretend he didn't get knocked on his aft by a dinosaur.
"Autobots, roll out!" Optimus ordered, and everyone dispersed.
As they left Swoop took a look back at Optimus and Ultra Magnus. He already knew he and his brothers weren't Optimus Prime's favorite troops, but now he wondered if their lives were going to get worse because of what happened to Wheeljack. Swoop and the others didn't really have time to process what was going on, and his brothers could cope with trauma by fighting. Swoop wasn't like that though. He was still afraid. He was afraid for Wheeljack, and he was afraid for his brothers. Would they be put into stasis lock? Would Wheeljack? What was going to happen to them?
Prowl sat in his office drinking a hot cube of energon and contemplating the case. He felt like such a failure. Sure, the case was solved, but it wasn't because of him. It was all good timing and serendipity. Nothing more.
There was a knock on the door and before Prowl could ask who it was the door opened to admit Jazz. Jazz had some data pads, most likely daily reports, but Prowl knew that wasn't why he was there.
"You feelin' alright, Prowler?" Jazz asked casually, though the concern was there below the surface.
"I eliminated Wheeljack as a suspect almost immediately," Prowl vented, "It wasn't that there was evidence to exonerate him, I just...couldn't imagine him doing something like that. I certainly never considered that there was anyone here living under a false identity. Normally I can peg people, Jazz. Normally I can detect a lie from the other side of the room. Not with him though. He fooled us all so perfectly, and yet one thing still bothers me. Why? Why wait so long to reveal himself? A normal spy would stick around long enough to find useful information, and then either kill the enemy or set up a trap for them to be slaughtered. You're special ops, what do you think his endgame was supposed to be?"
"I have a few theories," Jazz replied, his tone unusually serious, "Prowl, I know you're supposed to interrogate him in a few minutes. Let me do it. I've seen his type before. I think I can do more good in there than you can."
"I happen to be an excellent interrogator," Prowl replied in offense.
"I know," Jazz replied calmly, "But Wheeljack knows us. I don't think I can explain it Prowl, but your level of authority will just make him shut down. You're an officer, but I think what he'll respond better to is a friend. Just give me twenty minutes. I'll figure out what's goin' on."
Prowl sighed and placed his servos flat on his desk. He hated admitting failure, and he hated giving other mechs work that he could do himself, but Jazz had a point. A cop might make Wheeljack become defensive and refuse to speak. Decepticons were better equipped to handle confrontation than kindness. Decepticons...it was sickening how easy it was for Prowl to suddenly refer to Wheeljack as a Decepticon. Not a mole. Not a turncoat. A Decepticon. Wheeljack was never on their side, and Prowl was surprised to find he was hurt by this thought.
"Tell me what you find," Prowl finally said; giving Jazz the go-ahead.
"Will do," Jazz replied; his stylish nonchalance back in place as if their serious conversation never happened.
Alone in a cell in the brig, Wheeljack couldn't believe this orn had finally come. He never thought he would be caught, and he certainly never thought he would turn himself in. He had gone by the name Wheeljack for longer than his own given designation. Now it felt like his life was over.
The door whooshed open and Wheeljack expected to see Prowl, but instead he saw Jazz standing there in front of the energy bars to his cell.
"Hey there, my mech. How you holdin' up?" Jazz asked jovially, as if it were just another day instead of the day Wheeljack was arrested.
"I've been better," Wheeljack replied in an equally casual manner, "How's Ratchet doing?"
"He'll be alright," Jazz replied.
"I have to admit, I expected to see Prowl here," Wheeljack told Jazz.
"Yeah, he wanted to be here," Jazz chuckled, "I knew It'd be better if you talked to me first though. I know this'll sound crazy, but I can empathize with how you must've felt all these vorns."
"How do you figure?" Wheeljack asked as he narrowed his optics in a rare moment of annoyance.
"Mech, I'm in special ops. Nobody knows more about puttin' on the mask than me," Jazz replied with a wry smile.
"The mask?" Wheeljack asked as he subconsciously touched his welder's mask.
"You know, the mask," Jazz emphasized, "That part of you that everybody likes. The part of you that's fun, open, and ready for a slice of anythin'. The part that hides how you really feel and what you really think, because you know that in order for people to like you, they can't really know you. Trust me, I know the mask better than anyone."
"I see," Wheeljack replied noncommittally.
"I have a lot of friends around here," Jazz commented, "But Prowl's my best friend. You know why? Because I can take my mask off in front of him, and he can handle it. His spark is open enough and his tanks are strong enough that I can tell him what I really do as the leader of special ops. I can tell him about every mech I've killed, every lie I've told, and every scar I carry, and he can sit there and listen without judgin' me. It's pretty weird when I think about it sometimes. Prowl don't have no mask. He is who he is, and what you see is what you get. Sometimes, I'll admit, I get jealous of that. Bein' able to live without a mask."
"I know what you mean," Wheeljack commiserated, "I feel the same way about Ratchet. Part of me feels bad for him that he became so bitter and cranky with age, but another part remembers he's no older than me. He allows himself to just say whatever he feels and sometimes lets his wrench do the talking, if you know what I mean. I don't regret my attitude. I like to make people smile. Still though, sometimes I wish I could just take my welding torch and use it to seal a few mouths shut. Ratchet would."
"Yeah, so would Prowl, and then he'd make 'em clean up the Ark with a toothbrush," Jazz grinned, "Me though, I wear my style like a suit. It's saved my life a few times too. Do you remember when I spent two vorns undercover in a Decepticon base under the designation Meister?"
"I remember you had to paint yourself silver," Wheeljack quipped, "I thought you looked dead, but whatever works I guess."
"My point is I spent two vorns collectin' info on the Decepticons," Jazz reminded him, "Do you know why they talked to me despite my low rank?"
"Well, not to sound like a femme or anything, but I would say it's because you're charming," Wheeljack guessed.
"Exactly. It's the mask," Jazz said with a sly smirk, "I know you're countin' on your mask to save you too. You're hopin' Prime'll feel sorry for you and not order your execution. I think your chances are good actually. One thing I want you to know though, you don't have to wear your mask around me. I know you've carried a heavy burden all these vorns, and this is probably your best chance to unload some of it. The first bit I think you should unload is your designation."
"Huh?" Wheeljack asked in confusion.
"Your name. I can't call you Wheeljack no more, and I wanna know who I've really been talkin' to," Jazz said encouragingly.
"You'll be disappointed," Wheeljack told him, "I was never anyone important. You won't know the name."
"Try me," Jazz prodded.
Wheeljack sighed dramatically and said "Alright. If you insist. My name is Makeshift."
"Makeshift, huh? Never heard of him," Jazz shrugged.
"Told you," Makeshift replied.
"So, you mind tellin' me what happened that brought you to us, Makeshift?" Jazz requested.
"Well...I'm probably gonna die anyway, so I might as well set the record straight, I guess," Wheeljack replied in defeat, "Okay. First of all, before you can understand who I was as a Decepticon, I think it's important for you to know why I joined them in the first place."
"Alright," Jazz nodded.
Jazz then pulled up a chair, and Wheeljack began to pour out his spark as he finally let the vorns of regret and suspicion flow out of his vocalizer.
"I was built by Vector Sigma during the age of Sentinel," Makeshift explained, "I don't know if I ever had a family or if I was just designed to work. My early memories are corrupted due to age. The first thing I do remember though is living in a foundling home in Helex. I was never exactly an angel, if I'm honest. I was the sparkling that grifted the other sparklings out of their energon, toys, and money. At first I worked my hustle alone, but then another grifter from the home noticed how well I did and approached me. I thought he was gonna beat me up for stealing his turf, but instead he said we should join forces. That mechling grew up to be a pretty famous Decepticon soldier; Octane."
"I've heard of him," Jazz commented, "He's in charge of the fuel reserves in Polyhex where Shockwave keeps the energon surplus. It's the biggest most well-guarded fuel repository on Cybertron."
"Yeah, well he wasn't always so strong. He was always clever though," Makeshift replied wistfully, "Even though we worked together as business partners in the foundling home, what really made us friends is what happened after that. We were both sold to a mech that owned a pumping station for fueling drones. I remember how miserable that place made us, and how we would spend all orn filling up drones and then filling up tanks to fill up more drones. The gases were nearly toxic, the sun was hot and we were never allowed inside, and the owner would beat us sometimes."
"You were slaves? That's illegal!" Jazz replied in outrage.
"It was illegal, in Iacon," Makeshift pointed out, "At that time it was legal in Helex for business owners to 'hire' unaccounted for sparklings and younglings. Octane and I were treated worse than cyberhounds, but then one day we had enough and decided to escape."
"Sounds dangerous," Jazz remarked.
"It was, though frankly it wasn't as exciting as you'd think," Makeshift wryly replied, "In the movies escaping slavers involved shootouts, alt mode chases, explosions, and the military. In real life though, Octane and I just waited for our master to take his lunch break, and then we just walked away. We didn't run because that would look suspicious to onlookers; we just kept walking. We had heard that Iacon was the land of freedom and gold, so that was our destination. We actually travelled to many city-states over the vorns. We upgraded in Altihex, we made the most money in Protohex, I dated my first femme in Trion Delta, and I broke up with her so Octane and I could continue our journey to Iacon. I gotta tell you though, Iacon might not have had slavery, but it wasn't a better place to live."
"Why not?" Jazz asked.
"Because the caste system worked against us," Makeshift replied, "We didn't have identity papers, so technically we weren't supposed to live in Iacon. We did anyway though, and typically shined pedes and performed on the streets to survive. Octane loved singing and dancing, and I was a great actor. Sometimes I would pretend to be lost or act like I had lost my pet, and while the person was distracted Octane would hack their subspace and steal their credits or valuables. It was a life I guess. It was all we knew, at least. That all changed when we went to the stadium to try to grift the tourists. That stadium was filled with dissidents, and they were all there to hear Megatron speak against the caste system. When we heard him speak, it was as if he were speaking to us. It was like our optics had been wiped clean and we saw how unfair the world was, not just to us but to everybody. That was the orn we became Decepticons."
"I've heard similar stories from former 'Cons that joined the Autobots," Jazz told him, "I understand Megatron used to be quite the public speaker before the war officially began."
"Oh he was, but more than that, Octane and I were tired of being bums," Makeshift said, "We wanted money, respect, and power. We were nothing, but the Decepticons could change everything for us if we got in on the ground floor. Octane did the talking for both of us since he was such a good hype mech. He quickly became a favorite test subject of Shockwave's since Octane would say yes to anything. At one point Shockwave tried to convince me to test a new Omni-shifter he was working on, but I said no. Octane was reformatted into a triple-changer, and thankfully it was a success. I saw some mechs go mad trying to adjust to two forms. It was really creepy. I mostly did grunt work because that was all I was good at. I was good at faking being smart, but I wasn't actually smart."
"Really? I never would've guessed," Jazz replied with an amused smile, "You've been our go-to engineer for so long I can't even picture you without your toolkit and that welder's mask you wear."
"Yeah well, about that..." Makeshift said sheepishly, "As I said, I mostly did grunt work. I wanted to do more though. The chance came when the council hid away the scientists and educated Cybertronians that refused to join the Decepticons. I was assigned to spy for the 'Cons and find out where the eggheads were taken. They figured since I could convince anyone of almost anything I was the perfect candidate for the job. I pretended to be the accountant for a grant foundation and said I was looking for Vaccina. I was directed to the hideout at Simfur, and went there to confirm the site. The targets were all there, so I contacted my squad leader and requested info on when the attack would go down so I could get out of the blast zone. Less than a joor later the attack happened, but I wasn't warned."
"Lemme guess, they were afraid you'd get cold pedes and betray them," Jazz stated rather than asked.
"I don't know. All I know is that I was caught in the crossfire, and I saw the true horror of what we'd done for the first time," Makeshift sighed, "I heard screams and cries all around me. I saw bodies ripped apart, and everything was white and red with the flashing of laser rifles and the burning of fire. I heard one mech scream 'Wheeljack!' before being cut off mid-scream. I was knocked over by a shockwave from a bomb, but my heavy armor saved me from most of the salvos. When I woke up I was in an Autobot medbay, and I was sure I had been captured to be tortured for information and then executed. When the medic asked for my name though, I realized no one knew who I was. No one knew me, and the Decepticons thought I had died. So, I remembered the name Wheeljack, not actually knowing who he was, and took his name as my own."
"To what end?" Jazz asked pointedly.
"To start over," Makeshift declared without shame, "I thought if I could start over as an Autobot, then maybe I would survive. Problem was, I soon found out Wheeljack was a scientist. Not only that, but I couldn't even understand his field of study. All the great literary and scientific records of Cybertron had been burned in the fires at Simfur, so I couldn't even find a photo of Wheeljack, let alone any of his published papers. Then I realized that this could work to my advantage. If I couldn't research Wheeljack, then no one else could either. I wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but if I could just pick a field of study that was achievable then I could fool everyone and make a new life for myself. That's why I picked engineering, because it involves working with your servos yet it doesn't involve the more theoretical aspects of scientific study."
"Heh heh, you know the funny part about that?" Jazz asked with a slag eating grin, "It turns out the real Wheeljack was a theoretical physicist. He probably couldn't build a weapon or a computer if his life depended on it, yet he likely also knew secrets of the universe that have been lost to antiquity."
"Figures, huh?" Makeshift laughed along with Jazz, "Yeah, I wasn't sure how I was going to learn about science enough to convince everyone I was who I said I was, but then I met Perceptor. All I had to do was stroke his ego enough to get him to tell me everything he knew. I didn't understand it all, but I made sure to pay as close attention as I could. Then less than a vorn later I was asked to build a device for Optimus Prime himself. Needless to say I was nervous, but I did it. Problem was that the Decepticons stole it. Good news was it wasn't built properly and exploded into millions of pieces. Yeah...truth is, I know more now than I used to, but I'm still not that great at making things. That's why they always blow up in my faceplate. That's why when I got the idea for the Dinobots I made sure to include Ratchet. If I was going to make living things, then I knew extra caution was needed."
"I don't get one thing though," Jazz pondered, "If you really wanted to be an Autobot and didn't want to betray us, then why give the Decepticons a working weapon? Why turn against us now after so many centi-vorns of loyalty?"
Makeshift hung his helm then, unable to look Jazz in the visor. Jazz could practically feel the guilt radiating off the mech's frame, and he waited, knowing that Makeshift would talk.
"I got a call from Laserbeak two weeks ago," Makeshift began, "It was a text message since Laserbeak doesn't talk, but that blasted bird found out who I really was. He knew I was Makeshift, and he told Megatron. I was also sent tech specs of their latest warrior; a city-former named Trypticon. The threat was clear, give us what we want or Trypticon will kill your Dinobots and the Autobots will know your secret. I didn't care about me, but the Dinobots are the closest thing I will ever have to sons. I couldn't allow them to fight a foe they couldn't win against. So, I did what Megatron wanted. I knew they would keep using me for as long as I lived, but I didn't feel I had a choice. I still don't. Maybe I should be executed. I don't wanna die, but at least if I'm gone then Megatron loses his bargaining chip."
That last sentence shocked Jazz more than anything else Makeshift had said. He had never seen his old friend so despondent, so defeated. Jazz had a duty to perform regarding the investigation, so he would have to tell Prowl everything that was said in the brig. That was the least of his problems though. Makeshift not only admitted he had betrayed the Autobots, but also told Jazz that he was likely to do it again.