DWB - Jazz

Jazz found reason to be driving along US Route 84 , and so employed the new device Wheeljack had installed, a simple human prop in the front seat. Wheeljack allowed the autobots to request custimizations, and having grown very found of Nina Simone's music, Jazz requested a facimile of her. He knew enough about stealth to alter her appearance some, as Nina Simone was regrettably dead and her being seen driving a car might cause undo attention (Jazz assumed everyone on Earth must know who she is and what she looked like).

The sky unleashed a torrent of rain on him on this trip. He didn't mind the wet so much, in fact he thought it seemed to match the song he was currently focused on. He'd been through all her songs, and learned a lot about human beings, thier history and the relationships, and some useful lingo he would never have picked up from Telatran One. Some songs he had to listen to several times, or go back to after gaining some social experience in order to understand, and he had a working understanding of all but one of them.

Strange Fruit. He could not understand what she meant by that. He could find no reference to that phrase. It was a very sad melody, and as rain was an intricate part of being sad on Earth he actually welcomed the weather. He hoped maybe it would key him in on the signifigance of the song.

Suddenly red and blue lights flashed behind him. He obediently switched to the right lane, thinking the police car would need to speed past him in it's race for justice.

It switched with him. It was another minute before Jazz realized the police car was for him. He pulled over to the curb, wondering what could be wrong. A quick diagnostic check showed all his lights were working.

The cop was getting out of his car. Jazz realized his facimile would have to talk, and as he hadn't been prepared for this situation he now realized he had a female facimile and a male voice. He didn't have the ability to audioly disguise his voice. As the cop approached, Jazz scanned through his music files to pull words in Nina's voice from the stereo.

"Gonna need to see some ID", the officer requested as Jazz lowered the window halfway, trying not to let all the rain stream in.

Another situation Jazz hadn't anticipated. He had no registration, and even if he did his facimile wouldn't be able to hand it to anyone.

After a moment, the cop banged the side of the door.

"You hear me? What's your name?"

"Suzanne."

"I'm going to have to write you a ticket."

"Do What You Gotta Do."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You think this is funny?"

"I Think It's Going to Rain Today."

"You know, while you're driving around in your porche, I'm out here in the rain."

"It Be's That Way Sometimes", Jazz replied, trying to be sympathetic.

"Where'd you get that Porche, anyway?"

"Baltimore."

"Maybe you should step out of the car", the officer ordered, apparantly not satisfied with that answer.

Now Jazz was glad his was only a facimile. It would be awful for a human to have to come outside. The cop looked uncomfortable but at least had a waterproof jacket and wide-brimmed hat. And, there seemed now something sinister about the request, maybe it was all the listening about the oppression of black people but Jazz decided this encounter had gone on long enough.

"I'm gonna leave you now."

"I don't think so", the officer replied.

"Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood."

"Get out of the car", the officer ordered, drawing his gun.

"Ain't No Use", Jazz told him, driving away.

Three bullets hit him as he increased his speed and drove off the highway and onto farmland. The mud and rain made this difficult for most vehicles follow, but Jazz drove through the farm, onto a small road and then, several miles later, came across an isolated barn. All this took him less then ten minutes, enough time for the cop to have summened backup. Hearing several more sirens and a helicopter approaching the area, Jazz ducked into the barn and transformed, hoping that if worse comes to worse he can play it off as an innocent autobot who just happens to be in the area.

Fortunately the police didn't track him to the barn, the rain being so thourough as to have wiped out his tracks and they probebly didn't think he would have gotten this far. Enveloped in the darkness, lying in cold, wet, mud, watching the helicopter search lights in the distance, Jazz fingered the dents the bullets made in his body armour, glad he wasn't human.

"Mississippi Goddamn."