Flip Side
AN: AU/Parallel... PLEASE dont kill me for this one. Its a little different than the norm.
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Jazz felt his shoulders grind, the sockets threatening to dislocate with a horrendous screech. He groaned, feeling his consciousness drift in an out. He was held immobile against the wall, his arms distended, his legs shackled into place on the floor. He was mounted like a trophy, and Primus help the mech that believed Jazz was something to be pinned to the wall and admired.
His joints were aching, his vision obscured by a bright light hovering over his head. Pain radiated throughout his body, signaling a testament to his concurrent fight and abduction. Now, he was sequestered somewhere in the depths of a Con facility.
His locator beacon had been disabled. His comms. were blocked, probably Soundwave's doing, and one audio had been ripped from the side of his helm.
His legs were useless, the knee joints having been disabled by a very practiced saboteur. Whoever was going to be doing his interrogation was good. It was the same tactics that Jazz himself used when questioning Con spies. Course Prime always held Jazz's servo in check, never letting him get too involved with his captives and doing some unspeakable, and unforgiving things. Jazz was never allowed to venture down that road. He was secretly glad the Prime had such convictions. Jazz would have to hate to lose himself in the misery of another. It was an easy path to follow.
His gyros recalibrated, giving him partial control over his helm. He lifted his head, feeling a grinding sensation along his spinal strut that meant he had structural damage. Errors messages were sporadic across his internal HUD, the codes long and streaming.
The room was brightly lit, affording a view of the four walls and the tables. Jazz felt his tank clench, noting a black and white frame perched on top of one of the tables. He knew that frame. The doorwings were a dead giveaway. They lay flat against the berth, their edges crinkled with damage. Jazz winced, knowing Prowl was going to be in a foul mood. He noted the burnt edges to the Praxian's pedes, the soles showing considerable electrical damage.
"Hey, Prowl," Jazz whispered, his voice cracking twice before carrying the distance to the inert form on the table. "Prowl, can you hear me?"
Prowl remained motionless. There was a trail of crusted energon that dripped from the edge of the table and pooled on the floor. There was a high probability that Prowl was in stasis due to trauma.
Hoping for other options, Jazz turned his head to the right. His neck protested, several gears grinding in a way that meant at least two were dislocated from their main grooves and needing realignment.
Ironhide hung limp from the wall on the right. His body was cast in dismal lighting, making it difficult to judge his physical status. But if the pool of pearly energon below him, and few removed armor pieces were any indication, Ironhide was in just as dire straights as Prowl. Both would need Ratchet's expert care. And probably soon. Jazz wondered how much damage the weapons master had taken before going down. And with the puddle beneath him, it must have been substantial. It was up to Jazz to affect a rescue.
If only he had some help.
With great effort Jazz turned to the left. It took a moment for his optical band to focus on the two forms hanging from the wall opposite Ironhide. Both were crumpled in submission. Dark glistening pools resided under their pedes, signaling energon loss. And with the size of the puddle, it was another grim diagnosis.
Jazz looked to Bumblebee and Mirage, hoping for some signal of consciousness. Bee was missing a leg and Mirage was almost severed in half. Both were motionless and with the damage received, probably in stasis lock as well. With such trauma came the inevitable stasis lock to prevent loss of life.
Which meant that Jazz was alone.
Jazz sighed. Their attacker knew them well. He wondered and cursed the one responsible for his friends disfigurement and obvious torture when he heard the unmistakable sound of Cybertronian feet. The sound was distant, muffled and sounded like it was coming from overhead. With a pained grimace, Jazz looked up and gasped more from surprise than stinging pain from dislocated gears.
The ceiling was made of glass, allowing a viewing audience to watch the proceedings in the room. It was like an operating theater the humans employed to educate their doctors. Jazz felt his tank lurch, watching as Megatron took prominence, his hellfire optics leering into the amphitheater. Beside him was Soundwave and Starscream and must to Jazz's horror, Optimus Prime was held in the Air Commander's grip.
Jazz swore softly to himself. If Megatron was here and Prime was captured, and with all the damaged bots that surrounded him, that could only mean one thing.
Shockwave was there.
His experiments were notorious, Jazz having seen first hand some of the damage the deranged mech could do. And if Shockwave was in residence, that would explain why Ironhide, Mirage and Bee were in stasis.
Jazz steeled himself up. He wouldn't allow the crazy scientist to break him. He had been captured before with no luck. He wouldn't go down peacefully. He intended on fighting to the bitter end. He just hoped someone would be able to assist Prime in an escape.
A speaker burst static before Megatron's voice boomed out.
"Witness your precious Autobots, Prime' Megatron was saying, leering over at the broken Prime and reveling in his enemies suffering. "They suffer because of you."
"Let him go, Megatron," Jazz shouted, his voice lending strength his physical body didn't possess.
"Oh, I believe I will keep him around," Megatron said, gracing the captive with a supercilious smile. "There are plenty of Autobots left for him to witness their demise."
"Don't do this Megatron," Prime pleaded, his voice sounded weary and defeated. One optic was shattered, a slave collar glowing around Prime's neck, keeping him weakened. "You've won. There is no need for this torture."
"Oh, but what would be the fun in your defeat, if you didn't get to sample all the delicacy that you abhor. The talent that was at your disposal and you never exploited it. The talent you had sitting among your ranks and you never thought to nurture it, to hone it, or wonder why it remained so docile upon your command."
Jazz wondered what Megatron's delusional mind was prattling about when the door opened. A black figure entered, his armor glinting as obsidian. Jazz felt a pang of familiarity, but couldn't quite place the sleek black lines, the chrome accents, the polished build. It was the decorative slats on the side of the helm that sharpened Jazz's blurred vision. Jazz paused. He knew that frame. Knew it anywhere. His suspicions were confirmed when a second frame entered the room, standing equal distance from the black mech. Jazz let out a gust of relief.
Sideswipe stationed himself by the door, his sleek armor the color of spent human blood. The deep carmine armor gave the aspect of the mech bleeding out, his movements causing the flow that meant an end to a life.
Jazz felt a pang in his spark, noting that Sideswipe's optics were white, just like the crest upon his chest. Jazz frowned, staring at the Con sigil up on the bloody armor, its usual purple mask now colored the essence of a ghost. Sideswipe's expression didn't change. He stared blankly at Jazz.
Sunstreaker moved to Prowl in slow silent steps. Jazz watched as the now black armored mech approached one of his most taunted friendly enemies, his expression neutral as Prowl's own.
"Sunny?" Jazz asked, his tone soft and worried. He knew Sunstreaker didn't like the nickname, but instead of his usual snarling objection, the black armored mech gave half a glance to the captive before returning his attention to Prowl.
Jazz watched as the black armor moved in fluid grace, leaving no doubt that it was Sunstreaker in disguise.
"Sunny, you have to help me. Prime's been captured," Jazz whispered, hoping to see some signs of recognition from the formerly golden warrior.
"I know,' Sunstreaker said in a flat one, his fingers working along Prowl's upper body.
Jazz hoped Sunstreaker knew what he was doing. He had a feeling Prowl would be berating him for taking so long, allowing the capture. And not following proper protocol. Even in a dangerous situation Prowl would still be spouting proper protocol and chastising the twins for not following direct orders. Sometimes, the mech could be insufferable.
"You have to help me," Jazz said in a low voice, hoping it wouldn't carry to the microphone or the speakers.
Megatron offered a laugh, cold and harsh, letting the saboteur know he'd been overheard. The sound made Jazz's internals run cold. It was beyond heartless. It was cold, cruel, and coming from the very bowels of the underworld itself. It made your life freeze in your veins and your soul recoil from the icy invasion.
"I can't do that," Sunstreaker said, continuing his manipulation of Prowl's inert form. "You see, I don't take orders from you any more."
"Come on, mech," Jazz urged, straining on his bonds and feeling his shoulders threaten to dislocate. "I'll give you whatever you want. High Grade. Expensive polish. Distract Prowl."
Sunstreaker turned his blood red optics toward Jazz, causing the saboteur to still his actions, his spark turning cold. The ghostly white crest of a Decepticon sigil was upon his chest. With a sadistic smile Sunstreaker lifted his hand, causing Jazz to stall.
Prowl's helm was suspended from Sunstreaker's grasp. Wires and cables were freed from their housing, Prowl's optics were lifeless, his mouth open in a silent scream, frozen in a horrified expression.
"There is nothing you can offer me," Sunstreaker said, dropping the mangled head to the floor. It bounced with a sickening thud. "You see, all this time, you boasted of being the best the Autobots' ever had. Your skills were legendary. You ego, as inflated as you assumed mine to be. Yet, you and the others never saw what was right under your olfactory sensors. What was right in front of your optics, staring at you every day."
Jazz felt his tanks churn with acid. The look Sunstreaker wore scared the oil out of him. He never saw such sadistic joy in another mech's face before. Not even Megatron wore a mask of such jubilant malice.
"Sunstreaker?" Jazz whispered, his optics tracing the handsome face, looking for some signs of recognition. Some sort of clue that this was a farce and that the clever frontliners were enacting a scene to allow an escape.
There was no such sign. No signal for a ruse.
"After all your boasting, your achievements, your accolades from Prime, you and everyone else missed an important clue," Sunstreaker said, taking a few steps toward Jazz, his hellish optics boring into icy blue without hesitation. "That you had Decepticon spies hidden within your midst. Two spies who watched every move, learned your habits, your weaknesses, and began the campaign to end your existence. You were deceived. The 'master of disguise' was outsmarted by those he believed to be untrained and unruly."
Sunstreaker braced his hands on either side of Jazz, their olfactory sensors nearly touching. Jazz cringed from the chill that emanated from the black frame. It felt like he was being encased in black ice to be entombed in the depths of isolation.
"You see, Jazz, you were outsmarted by those you believed to be to immature to pose a threat," Sunstreaker said, his head canting as he exhaled cold gusts across the black and white frame.
Jazz's answer was cut off as Sunstreaker slipped his fingers between the seams of Jazz's abdominal armor. His wriggled his fingers then jerked his hand, causing a piece of armor to go flying across the room.
Sideswipe stood impassive by the door. A perfect statue, reminiscent of Prowl, who Jazz was certain was terminated before Sunstreaker's defiling of his frame.
"Oh, you are going to be fun," Sunstreaker muttered, almost nuzzling the saboteur.
Jazz refused to cry out. The sound would only incite his tormentors, not to mention it would be like stabbing Prime through the spark. He hated to hear someone suffering. Jazz wouldn't let his superior down.
But there was something in the way that Sunstreaker hovered. The cold air, the delicate, almost sensual caresses he bestowed on the black and white frame. It sent a shiver all the way into Jazz's soul. He could feel his spark whither. A part of him knew that Ironhide, Mirage, and Bee had shared the same fate as Prowl. He just tricked himself into believing they were alive and could be of assistance. He looked into the raging fire of Sunstreaker's optics, seeing into the depths of his soul.
The all consuming rage that fueled his anger and his temper were burning bright. He was allowed to reach his maximum potential. He was allowed to become what Prime feared he would. There was nothing to hold him back. There was nothing to stop him.
Jazz knew that once Sunstreaker finished with him, another Autobot, one who trusted the twins as the command staff once did, would suffer the same fate. And Prime would be forced to watch as those he believed to be fighting by his side were turned against him, his cause, and his soldiers. He would watch as they succumbed to the demons that plagued them. Be forced to watch as they vented their rage and frustration on innocent bots, mangling, maiming, destroying their bodies as their own sparks withered and died into empty shells. There was nothing Prime could do to stop the slow, torturous execution of his most loyal of soldiers, and closest of friends.
But Jazz could.
Jazz had a way. All Special Ops agents had a way out. Their programming was different than the average mech's.
Prime knew this.
When Jazz turned empty optics to his ever stoic leader, Prime gave an imperceptible nod. He knew. He understood. He condoned. He had made Jazz promise such a thing when Jazz was first instituted into the Third In Command position. He was honor bound to obey.
Jazz chuckled, earning a confused look from Sunstreaker, who continued to hover in his personal space. Jazz snickered, leaning forward to where his lip components were almost touching Sunstreaker's, his icy blue optics alive with frozen fire.
"I know something you don't know,' Jazz said in a singsong, taunting his black armored capture.
"You know much," Sunstreaker admitted, bracketing the seductively taunting saboteur with his arms. His face loomed in Jazz's vision.
Jazz sneered, lurching forward and planting a rough kiss on Sunstreaker, who recoiled at the sudden action. With a mighty shove he pinned the saboteur against the wall, earning a grinding click from the now rattling chassis as Jazz shook with laughter.
"What's so funny?" Sunstreaker asked.
Jazz cracked a genuine smile, his mirth falling away into silence. He looked deep into the optics of his captor, his friend, his betrayer, and said with a soft, sincere voice.
"You're not as smart as you think you are."
Sunstreaker frowned trying to discern his words, when there was a pop in Jazz's frame. Black and white panels expanded like a mech performing a ritualistic display.
Jazz offered a smile before his chassis exploded in a shower of sparks and fire. Sunstreaker, being mere inches from the explosive device, was terminated instantly. Sideswipe took two steps toward the blazing fire, his hand grasping his chest as he fell into the inferno that bloomed outward from the detonation. He was terminated before the roiling fire touched his plating.
Prime closed his optics, feeling the room shudder with the force of the explosion. Megatron was able to open his mouth to bellow in rage before the glass partitions erupted. The Decepticon leaders and their enslaved enemy, were showered in diamonds before their internals melted, extinguishing their sparks.
And Jazz's laughter could still be heard in the thundering aftermath of the explosion.
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Seriously, what do you think? I said it was AU.
Anyone see it coming?
Next week... the request from dragonstormgirl, who was the 1500th reviewer!
Congrats to Grace, who got number 1600. Thank you for your wonderful review and kind words. I do try to balance the sad with the humorous so it isnt so one sided. I have been told I can go "too dark" and I dont wanna do that, especially with the twins.
Lesleym: Thank you so much! I do try to broaden the range of emotions, experiences, and possible scenarios that may occur with the bots. I try hard to be original and possibly add a twist that no one saw coming or has been done before. :D
