I'm not reposting all the warnings. If you didn't read them in Pt. 1, then on your head be it.

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Pt. 11

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Thundercracker looked like a turtle flipped onto its back, unable to get back up while Starscream gutted him. First the shell of armor plating was torn away, flung aside to join the curved, shattered pieces of glass already on the ground. Then the tender insides were exposed, and the turtle-jet hoarsely yelled as wires and tubes and everything else were pulled loose. Fluids gushed, spurting out in a spreading puddle of colors mixing in the rust. Battered blue limbs weakly tried to fend off the Air Commander's hands, but Starscream smacked aside the weak efforts in order to dig viciously clawed fingers deep into the gaping hole that had been Thundercracker's cockpit.

The crowd winced back, faces twisted around happy 'Oooo's of delighted horror. Many of them had their hands held over their own midriffs in unconscious protective gestures. Skywarp laughed, one arm propped casually on his knee as he leaned back against Jazz's leg. Acid Storm was looking between the spectacle and the small Autobot standing beside him.

The black-and-white mech listened to Thundercracker begin screaming, and he remained grave and silent. Inside, he turned it all over in his head. Thoughts flitted and combined, trying to find the right angle to the problem. It was what he specialized in. That didn't meant it was easy.

Okay. Break it down. Both for his own sake, and for the sake of peace.

The mission was to infiltrate Vos, which couldn't be done just by allowing Starscream to court him. If, that was, the Seeker was still trying to court him. Even if he was, the accumulated evidence was pointing toward a superficial contract that would cede Jazz no influence over Vos. If it were true that Starscream still stood as the Vosian Emirate and it was possible to contract a political position under him, then Jazz needed that contract. This was no longer just a matter of figuring out Decepticon courtship practices; now Jazz had to gain the support of a whole city-state. Courtship appeared to be his best method for that.

Vos had been a proud city-state. Absorption into the Decepticon ranks seemed to have made the citizens even prouder. The city-state had been destroyed, true, but the survivors would be even more difficult to bring to his side. Thundercracker's reaction might have been an extreme example, but even toning it down, the average Vosian wouldn't be in favor of an Autobot being part of their city government. The Vosians had flocked to the Decepticons, flying against the Senate and the Prime.

Megatron wasn't here, but his shadow was felt. Purple emblems glared from every wing, and there was no way the Decepticon Lord Commander didn't know about a gathering of his followers. The Vosians were making no secret of it. Blaster had said the control room back at headquarters was aware of Thundercracker's challenge. Soundwave had to be monitoring the combat. Megatron might not be here, but he'd granted permission by abstaining from objection. Or perhaps he'd even approved it. Regardless, the Decepticon leader understood - or at least allowed - and gave his Air Commander free reign here.

Really, was this any different than the executions and discipline among the Decepticon troops? Call Jazz a cynic, but where could he draw a definite line between personal morals and discretion for the sake of the peace? The Autobots had been resolutely looking the other way when the question of Megatron's methods of control came up for weeks now as the peace negotiations progressed, because the truth was that only the warlord's brutal hand on his soldiers' necks was keeping them in line. They knew there were examples being made among the Decepticon troops to keep the peace negotiations going, but no one had said anything. Did Jazz have a leg to stand on if he protested an execution done right in front of him, as opposed to out of his line of sight?

It was the Decepticon way. This was the Decepticon way.

Wasn't it?

Cold slag and scrap iron, Jazz wasn't even sure he could label this Decepticon military procedure anymore, but it was following some kind of formalized structure. A trial-by-combat legal contract procedure, or something like that. Taken from an outsider's perspective as if Jazz had actually come across this while spying, he'd assume this was some kind of outlandish infighting among the Decepticon Elite. If Thundercracker died, here and now, it'd be within whatever unwritten rules Decepticon culture allowed, and outsiders would never know the difference. Jazz had the sudden, unsettling feeling that he wasn't watching a society buried within the Decepticons reemerging. No, his vision was clearing about what exactly SpecOps had been watching the whole war.

The Autobots had known of attempts on Starscream's life before, although it had never occurred to anyone to wonder which position was being grabbed at. If Jazz understood this right, apparently only the Second-in-Command position could ever be in question. But as an ignorant observer, unaware of needing to be an anthropologist just to watch a fight, would he know that? There seemed to be a legal network binding this arena together that wasn't visible, had been agreed upon long ago and out of sight, and yet it made the unseen power-grabs far different than they first appeared.

Looking at Thundercracker's beat-down from the angle of an Autobot spy, he'd report back that the blue Seeker had failed at self-promotion and was being executed for his failure. That was what he'd witnessed over and over again throughout the war, after all. Assassination attempts weren't exactly kosher, but a well-done behind-the-scenes play was subtly lauded by the Decepticons as a way of obtaining a better rank. Failures got what they deserved; executions were as much for being caught as trying in the first place.

Jazz couldn't just see this as a spy observing from the outside anymore. From even the short distance he'd managed to worm himself into this situation, he'd discovered far more convoluted workings on the inside than ever suspected. Decepticon and Vosian cultures had merged to the point where this had to be a cultural event. Military culture, as developed by a destroyed city and a rebellion-turned-civil war. His processors were still reeling as they tried to integrate what he'd unconvered in the past two orns into what long vorns as a Special Operations mech had shown him.

Regardless of other consequences of this new information, it meant that objecting to Thundercracker's murder would bring a whole culture down on an interfering outsider. Not a Decepticon military response, but a cultural one. If there were actually a difference, which was a line that was becoming increasingly blurred the more he learned. Trying to separate the Decepticon Cause from Vosian customs didn't seem possible. Perhaps? Maybe. Primus, Jazz hadn't even known the Vosian element had been there all along. Trying to pick out what was one or the other when he could only see the merged society from outside the Decepticon faction…there would probably be large amounts of misinterpretations, along with offenses taken and given.

He'd already monumentally screwed things up in that direction already today. Part of his mind was busily compiling options for fixing that misunderstanding with Starscream later, but this was more important at the moment.

Thundercracker arched, hands uselessly pushing at the foot planted on the side of his helm, forcing his head to the ground and his neck to bend past where it should stop. The intakes on either side of his contorted face cracked as helm armor dented inward. The fins popped out as pressure increased. They pattered to the ground in an erratic hail, plopping into the shallow puddles of vital fluids already on the ground. The pressure never let up, grinding him into the rust even as he screamed and screamed. What had started as a brief cry of unbearable pain had lengthened into something the blue Seeker seemed unable to stop.

Starscream's hands had been dented and covered in paint transfers, but now they were liquid-smooth with raw pink energon and bluish processed fuel. They twisted inside Thundercracker's torso, ripping out great handfuls of loose wires. They stuck halfway out so that the Air Commander had to brace his foot and heave until they popped free in a hail of tiny sparks from frayed ends.

Jazz had stood by as worse atrocities were committed. He'd perpetuated worse himself for the sake of the ideals he believed in and the faction he fought for. He knew how to bury his personal morals and tamp them down for the sake of a mission. That had never made watching someone die any easier. Torture should never become easy to witness.

Especially since he shouldn't have to stand by any longer. The war was supposed to be over.

Patience. Tolerance. They were relearning everything in the peace process, but negotiations meant each side had to give something up. Each side had to be equally committed, or the peace would never work. The Autobots had to try and learn to understand the Decepticons, allow for their failings, but in return, the Decepticons had to give something back. Jazz had to allow for Vosian - for Decepticon - culture, but that meant Starscream had to give something back.

The puzzle fell into place. Or rather, it shifted so he could see the separate pieces that made up part of the whole. He still couldn't see the entire picture for pieces gone missing, but slag, weren't they all making this up as they went? Nothing was left intact on Cybertron anymore.

"For the purpose of ending our Great War," Jazz said, lifting his chin to speak with the taller Seeker beside him. The catch-all ritual phrase sounded vaguely apologetic, but it got Acid Storm's attention. Skywarp shifted against his leg, too, and the purple-and-black Seeker let his laughter die. "Answer me this: do I have the right to stop this?" He opened one hand at the horrid scene below. Thundercracker's wailing had heightened his normal bass vocal range to a high, thin sound, and it made the fuel in Jazz's tanks freeze.

Skywarp and Acid Storm exchanged speaking looks around Jazz, the seated Seeker shrugging one wing in a way the Autobot couldn't read. "Technically?" the Rainmaker started, but he fell silent as someone cut the floodlights.

Night blanketed them, only the banshee-scream of a mech in utter agony piercing it. It shrilled around the arena like a living, dying creature. The tiers shifted and murmured as optics adjusted to the sudden darkness, and thousands of confused optics looked around. Only to catch, because there was light where there shouldn't be, and intakes sucked air in gasping unison.

Illuminated by sparklight, Starscream's hands continued their tearing, terrible work.

"Frag," Skywarp said softly.

Jazz's visor was a hypnotized blue band of nausea. The glow was mesmerizing in the night. The light flickered frantically, and Jazz wasn't the only one who couldn't look away. Even Skywarp's laughter had tapered off, amusement giving way to a more sober mien. Cheering had descended to whispers and silent observation. There was still anticipation zinging under the audience's low-level sound, but there was a growing awareness, as well. This was wingmate against wingmate, their Air Commander executing a disloyal member of his own trine, and the arena stood witness as he ripped more of Thundercracker's cockpit loose. The opening widened, and sparklight spilled reluctantly out. In its whirling light, Starscream's face was fiercely determined.

Acid Storm regretfully touched the Autobot on one shoulder-tire, downturned mouth offering half-hearted sympathy when the smaller mech looked up at him. "You don't," he said quietly, voice lowered beneath the subdued crowd-buzz. "Thundercracker hasn't conceded, and even if the challenge weren't to Starscream," he flipped his free hand, indicating that they both knew the Air Commander to be an unforgiving slagger, "a challenger has the right to die."

"Do you really think he wants to die?" Jazz asked incredulously, and a whining screech of agony punctuated his question. "How could he?!"

Skywarp sighed his vents and wriggled back against the Autobot's leg as if trying to get comfortable. If he ended up sitting a little more defensively, knees tucked a bit closer to his own chest, well, nobody else was in any position to talk. Hundreds of other flyers around the arena were shifting in similar ways. "Thundercracker's always been stubborn. Seems kinda strange, but - yeah, not all that surprising. He might even think Starscream's gonna stop before he goes critical." One red optic tipped up to regard Jazz sidelong. "He won't, in case you were wondering. Nobody does all that," he flicked a finger in the direction of the heaving pile of scrap metal that had been his wingmate, "unless they're intending to offline a mech."

"He'll breech spark containment soon enough," Acid Storm agreed. He eyed the blue Seeker's frantic struggles, judging. "Not much longer. Wonder if the Commander intends to take the whole spark chamber out, or just breech it?"

The other Seeker let his optics return to the arena floor, considering the question. "Knowing Starscream? He'll want to nail the spark chamber to his wall." It wasn't even 'Thundercracker's spark chamber' anymore; just any spark chamber. Skywarp had already distanced himself from the dead mech who'd been his wingmate. "Although…heh. Betcha he's going to rip it out and stomp on it to extinguish the spark."

Vivid green armor glimmered under the light of a thousand different optics. Also under the light of a gambler's interest. Acid Storm apparently enjoyed games. "I'll take that bet."

"You're on."

"Usual terms?"

"Of course. What do you think he'll do?"

"You know, I don't even know?" Acid Storm cocked his head, thinking it over as Starscream reached both hands into Thundercracker's chest and seized a horizontal brace. "It's going to be dramatic, I know that."

The blue Seeker gave a garbled cry reminiscent of a turkey whose wishbone was pulled apart while it still lived, and the brace gave with a sickening crack that had the whole audience unconsciously pressing hands to their own chests. That sound could be felt deep down in their chassis. It echoed from far inside where vulnerable internal parts were never supposed to be pulled into open air, and it triggered a visceral wrench in all of them.

"He's in shock," Jazz said, fighting down revulsion for everything. For the two Seekers and the audience and his own inaction, but mostly for the monster below forcing the broken brace apart like a blackmarket doctor cracking open a ribcage. "He's in shock," he repeated when Acid Storm and Skywarp only gave him mildly questioning looks. "I've seen it often enough when a mech's down and out in battle." He looked between them. "You've seen it, too! Even warbuilds aren't built to cope well with having someone pulling them to pieces!" Especially not when the spark was involved. Overwhelm a mech's processor with enough sudden damage reports, continued injuries causing pain sensors to go crazy as they were assaulted from all sides all at once, and it froze things up.

"Thundercracker doesn't want to die," Jazz said forcefully, visor narrowing to an accusing sliver in the darkness. "You know he doesn't! If Starscream won't stop until he concedes but he's physically handicapped from doing so - "

"What do you care?" Acid Storm interrupted, and he sounded slightly puzzled. "He's a Decepticon. You're an Autobot."

"He's Thundercracker," Skywarp pressed. "You've shot him before. You've tried to kill us all, before! What the frag do you care if Starscream dissembles him to subatomic particles and snorts him up his primary intakes?"

"Oh, now that's just gross!" Acid Storm gave the other Seeker a revolted look. "Where did you even come up with that?!"

"Earth," Skywarp said matter-of-factly, "has some phenomenally entertaining recreational habits. But that's my point!" Skywarp spoke over a particularly loud wail, ignoring it in favor of glaring at the Autobot. "If this had happened back on Earth, you'd probably be back in your stupid orange ship watching this like primetime TV!" He waved his arms, apparently unable to communicate how strange he found Jazz's objection by mere words alone. "I mean, what the frag? What the frag? This is because of you!"

"True," the Rainmaker said, upping his voice to be heard over Thundercracker's sobbing shriek as Starscream's relentless yanking finally snapped the side-hinges keeping the blue Seeker's chest closed. Sparklight bathed the area abruptly, a lightbulb of quivering terror exposed to the pitiless outside world. "Thundercracker wouldn't have challenged if you hadn't threatened his position."

"I don't want to be Starscream's wingmate!" Jazz blurted, because deeper thought had temporarily been derailed by the sickening show. Only long experience as an undercover operative kept him from showing more reaction than that.

"Not that position, idiot," Skywarp said, disgusted. "Thundercracker's been maneuvering to be the Emirate's Second since Starscream first contracted him."

"Probably before that," Acid Storm added in. Skywarp's optics glanced up quizzically, and the Rainmaker scoffed. "You don't think he just happened to wander across the Commander's line of sight when you two finalized, do you? Half the uncontracted single flyers went into a blitz of courtship displays when you, ah, 'prevented' Starscream from trine-contracting with a solid pair-contract." He smirked at Skywarp's bemused expression. "You're so psychotic the other half ran the other way."

"Hey!"

"It's true." Acid Storm looked back to Jazz even as Thundercracker's vocalizer began spitting pathetic swatches of nothing but static, too strained beyond proper usage to continue screaming. "Then along comes the ceasefire, and he's been just waiting for the war's end to finish our military contracts. Nuts and bolts, he's probably been planning to the klik the right time to ask permission to court - only here you are."

"Megatron," Skywarp declared, "is a great leader." He looked suddenly uncomfortable, which even the show below hadn't been able to accomplish. "It's just…his orders sometimes suck. It's not right, bringing an outsider in like this." He gave Jazz a mulish glare. "Why couldn't you at least have wings?"

The saboteur carefully didn't flinch, but the two Seekers were suddenly looking at him anyway. Their faces showed dawning comprehension.

"You feel guilty," Acid Storm breathed, and Skywarp brightened like someone had just handed him the world's best present.

"I'm an Autobot," Jazz countered, low and hard. "I've tolerated as much of this - this challenge as I can because of my role in what's happening, but even for the sake of the peace negotiations, I can't condone murder." The multiple layers of his visor slotted together, narrowing to a rock-steady gaze of hard blue. "I don't want to do this, but you're telling me I can't interfere as - " he hesitated.

"As Starscream's intended," Skywarp supplied. "Unless that's in your contract? Nope."

Meaning it could be, which the cold mech behind his personal feelings took note of for future use. " - right, whatever. That leaves me no choice but to act as an Autobot officer." Even in the dim, unsteady light of optics and cockpit instrumentation, the smaller mech suddenly looked every inch a dangerous Autobot. No Decepticon in his right mind wanted to mess with the Autobot Head of Special slagging Operations.

Even surrounded by six hundred+ Decepticon flyers, that gave the two Seekers pause.

Something horrible snapped in that pause, and Thundercracker's voice fitzed into a higher pitch of pain. By the light of a panicked, helpless spark, Starscream was inserting cruel hands into the blue Seeker's open chest. He took his time, hands moving with the precision of a surgeon. Jazz held the sick certainty that he knew who would win the Decepticons' latest betting pool.

Acid Storm's head turned, back and forth between show and disapproving observer. The Rainmaker's mouth worked, but no words came out. Any mech in his position would be as indecisive, caught between conflicting duties: Megatron's peace and Starscream's rights. If Jazz took a stand, here and now, the peace negotiations were over. The challenge had gone too far. Starscream was too proud, and the audience's mood had progressed too far to accept their Emirate backing off because some Autobot's prissy ethics said so. Someone would die, and that would be it for peace right then and there. All three of them here on the platform knew it, but the fact that the Autobot officer was taking a stand anyway meant that this wasn't a bluff. This was serious, and Acid Storm didn't know what to do.

Which was very unfortunately, because neither did Jazz. He just knew that sometimes the right thing was what an Autobot had to do. His mouth pressed into a resolute line, and he started to step forward -

"For the purpose of ending our Great War," Skywarp rushed out, and if that hadn't been enough, the purple-and-black Seeker had the Autobot's leg in a tight grip. He'd rolled into a crouch, hands hold Jazz in place. Starscream's wingmate had an excited, intense expression like he's seen the explosion at the end of the tunnel, and he'd been the one to cause it. Not every mech in Acid Storm's position locked up; some saw an escape route.

Thank Primus, because Jazz was scraping the bottom of the Barrel o' Inspiration here.

"You don't have the right to interfere," Skywarp said hurriedly, "but technically? I do."

Acid Storm looked like he'd been slapped. "You do?!"

Skywarp looked past Jazz to stick his tongue out at the other Seeker's disbelief. "I can't stop him, but I can ask him to stop. It'll give Thundercracker some time to get his cortex back together."

Jazz dipped his chin in a sharp nod. "If Thundercracker recovers enough to decide he wants to die, that's his choice and not a murder. I…" He grimaced, because he didn't want to, it'd be his fault and he didn't want to but he had to for peace's sake. "I can allow that."

"Primus, let him see reason," Acid Storm half-prayed, optics worried and focused on the Air Commander. Starscream had straightened up, rolling his shoulders and smirking at the crowd. 'Let this be a lesson to you,' that smirk said at the assembled Vosians, and then Starscream looked down again. Thundercracker's hands alternated between pawing weakly at the foot planted on his helm and hovering, shaking violently, over his bright, defenseless spark.

"But you owe me," Skywarp asserted, hissing suddenly as he dug his fingers into the Autobot's thigh. "You owe me, Jazz."

Who frowned, somehow not surprised that a Decepticon would manipulate even this. "I won't compromise the Autobots," he warned.

Skywarp shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the comm. line from Acid Storm even Jazz's disabled system could practically feel poking at the flyer. "Not asking you to." He freed one hand to bat at the Rainmaker, telling him to shut up, already! "You owe me. Something small. You have the choice to turn me down if the favor's too much, but you owe me."

He could see the angle: Skywarp wanted to hold something over him, either as Third-in-Command of the Autobots or as a potential Second in Vos. And maybe the cost would end up being too high, but Jazz had made tougher deals with even less trustworthy informants during the long vorns of the war. Threat analysis kicked it over to noncombat-dealing as Starscream leisurely reached down, hands glittering and deceptively beautiful.

The cost/benefit analysis came out positive, and the Autobot jerked an unhappy nod. "Agreed."

Skywarp disappeared instantly, but Jazz didn't know if even a teleporter was fast enough.

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End Pt. 11

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