Scramble

Light called him back again.

The light that was coming through the windshield was fractured, the glass cracked so badly in some places that it looked like crumpled metal, rather than what it was. In some places it was missing entirely, giving him a tilted view of the highway beyond.

Gravity insisted on pulling him towards the door, pinning his shoulder against the uneven surface. The awkward angle was starting to cut circulation off to his right arm, still cuffed behind his back.

He hadn't been out for long. Bits of glass and dirt were still skittering down the hood, from where the vehicle was still settling in the ditch. Smoke and dust blew along the asphalt surface that they'd just been cruising along.

Something had hit the car.

From the stealthy impact, Jazz had a good idea who it was.

Pulse weapons were common enough. Ones that made very little sound, but had enough impact to push a fully loaded shuttle out of its intended trajectory were rare. Both sides had them, however...

Optimus Prime had forbidden any of them to bring such a thing along to a place where innocents might get caught in the crossfire. Jazz knew that none of his companions would have fired such a weapon on a human vehicle– especially while it was in motion. The impact could kill such frail creatures. Decepticons, however...

A moan from the front seat caught his attention, and Jazz tried to twist around to see who was still alive. If they could move, they could get out. They could get away from this vehicle, before whoever it was came to investigate the wreckage, and–

It hurt.

The scrapes, cuts and bruises he'd been dealing with were nothing. Even the persistent aches and pains leftover from whatever hell Jace Hunt had been through before... whatever had happened hadn't felt quite like this. His head was spinning.

Jazz had been hurt badly before– but not like this. Not from a mere tumble.

The next groan was his.

If the Decepticon who'd shot at them was going to come and investigate, how was he supposed to do anything? Jazz was pinned by the foolishness of the humans' fear– immobilized for this trip, and now aching from where the straps that were supposed to keep him safe had done their job most forcefully on this weak organic frame.

No weapons. No mobility. No chance.

Even when Sector Seven had taken Bumblebee, Jazz had more control over the situation than this. Only Optimus' orders had restrained him from giving chase– from hunting down the ones who'd taken their friend.

He'd never felt more helpless in his life--

He'd been defeated. Jazz knew it, but couldn't accept it, still fighting the darkness that was falling over him. And then, a movement. One of the small figures that had been fleeing a moment before was approaching, leaking from several places–

"No... don't touch–" Jazz was helpless. He couldn't push the foolish creature away. His motor control systems had already shut down, leaving him paralyzed. He couldn't harm the humans, not after they'd actually started to help. Not after some of them had turned out to be halfway decent beings, if given a chance.

One of the small creature's hands reached out towards the wound that had split his chest open, exposing his heart to the alien light. If the fragile creature were to come in contact with the energies within his body, it– no, not it– he would most likely die.

The human reached for him, despite the warning– determined–

"You don't have to be alone." The soft voice reached him, "I want to help– I just–"

The pain returned. Doubled. Trebbled.

Jazz thought he hard a scream as the darkness finally swept him away to sweet oblivion.

"Jace?" A voice chased away the darkness. The pain subsided to a dull ache. "C'mon. Be all right. Jace! Open your eyes–"

Mikaela?

Jazz obediently opened his eyes to see the same tilted view as before. He was still trapped within the human vehicle, painfully pressed against the side– but a shadow was leaning over him from the other side.

He turned his head to see Mikaela leaning through the empty window frame.

The worry on her face faded as Jazz moved. The memory had faded, leaving him limp and voiceless.

"He's alive, Ratchet–" Mikaela called over her shoulder, and reached for him, leaning further in. "Don't move too much. We'll get you out."

"Please move, Mikaela." Ratchet's rumble came from somewhere above. "I'm going to open the vehicle, so that we can extract them."

"The others–" Jazz found his voice at last, as Mikaela disappeared. He heard the familiar rumble of Ratchet's engine above the stillness in the car. The sound of metal cutting metal somewhere above, as bits of the roof were stripped away to reveal Ratchet standing over them. "We've got to get them outta here before the Decepticon gets here. Atmospheric pulse–"

"Jazz?" Ratchet frowned, pausing in his work.

"Yeah." Jazz winced as Mikaela hopped back in, and began working on the whole seatbelt issue– hopefully her hands were steady. That looked like an awfully sharp knife. "Remembered... everything."

"Careful there." Mikaela had cut him loose, and was working on the handcuffs. One human versus metal meant to keep him restrained?

"They probably have the keys to these up–" Jazz started, and fell silent as the pressure around his wrists fell away. Mikaela held up the cuffs with a triumphant look.

"I'm faster than that." She told him. "Come on, let's get you out–"

Another groan from the front seat. This time Jazz could really look and see.

"They're not hurt badly," Ratchet said, "If it was an atmospheric pulse, I believe it was a glancing blow. Mostly cuts and bruises, just like you."

"Still not promising." Jazz felt solid ground under his feet as he exited the vehicle, leaning for a moment on Mikaela as a wave of dizziness assaulted him. "Decepticons probably think it's dead in the water. Probably been monitoring communications, an' know Ironhide's delayed. We've gotta move them out before they finish whatever it is they were plannin'."

"Ironhide," Ratchet said quietly, as a soft rumble in the distance grew louder. "Is not delayed. He is on his way here. As are three energy signatures– Decepticons. We are out of time."

"Indeed you are," a voice echoed from the copse beside the road.

A violet beam of energy lanced out to strike Ratchet before any of them could move.

"We will have what we came for. And the rest of you... can die."

Acquisition

"Ratchet!" Mikaela's cry echoed through the air, as the large Bot was sent flying backwards by the force of the energy beam that had struck him.

The crash of metal against asphalt and dirt broke the temporary paralysis that had gripped him.

Pushing Mikaela behind him, Jazz put himself between her and the now shaking trees, as something– someone large pushed them aside to stand in the gap between roadway and woods.

His shield. A weapon. He needed something.

"I told them this would not be difficult." The faceless red figure said, not even lowering his weapon. "And they were so worried about a few insignificant worms."

"Swindle," Jazz breathed, glancing back at where Ratchet was still sprawled beyond the wrecked SUV. "There's nothing here except a ruined truck, and there're more Bots on the way–"

"Such bravado. But that is where you are most certainly wrong," Jazz could feel the gaze on him. "We have the subject of much concern to these humans. The energy signature of one of our race, that these idiots have been pursuing for months– although it is rather disappointing to find that it wasn't one of our warriors. However, the ghost of a high ranking Autobot stuck in the shell– the oh so fragile body– of an organic being–"

Him? They were after him?

"Nice try," Jazz watched the taller being approach, and edged back. "I'm just... an ordinary human. There's nothing here, really. You did all this for noth–"

"Ordinary? Please." Swindle laughed, and switched languages, careful to emit his next words in slow enough tones for the human recipient to catch. "A mere organic wouldn't be able to understand this. However– if you're still so keen on playing games, friend, you won't mind if I bring in some more playmates."

Swindle's weapon swung towards the men still trapped within the vehicle.

If the blast had sent Ratchet sprawling hard enough that he was still stunned, what would it do to ordinary organic beings?

And should he care?

These government agents had been shadowing him for months, watching every step he'd taken since–

A flash of Danni's face crossed his mind. Very tired, very worn, and yet the woman was still smiling as she talked with him, telling him about the things he didn't 'remember'. No– not telling. Teaching. As though she knew he would never remember being Jason Hunt.

Danielle had been protecting him.

Jazz attempted to keep the surprise off of his face, and a more neutral, uncomprehending face towards Swindle. These government guys didn't deserve his help. They'd made his– and Danni's lives miserable. They were nothing but trouble–

"Nothing to say?"

Jazz could hear the hum of power building, as the shot was charged.

"What's going on, 'Jace'–" Mikaela asked from behind him, "We've got to get those guys out of there. If he shoots at them, he'll kill them."

"I–" Jazz tried to make a grab for her as Mikaela ran towards the car.

"You were worried about them before." She called back, "Why are you hesitating now?"

"Yes, 'Lieutenant'. Why are you stopping now? They'll all die if you don't do something." Swindle still emitted in the language that Mikaela couldn't possibly understand. "Or are you going to let the worms die, and come with us anyway?"

"Mikaela– They–" Jazz stopped. We do not harm humans, but do we allow them to be harmed?

Most of the people that they'd encountered in the beginning of the short battle– they'd turned out to not be exactly what Jazz had expected. They were all fierce fighters, however, and most had stood their ground.

All of them had been afraid. Like these two. The reason they were following him, the reason they had badgered, bothered, and beleaguered was because they were afraid of him. As Swindle had pointed out, they had no real way of knowing if the signature– the ghost– within this frail body was that of a Decepticon, and a potential danger to them in the guise of an ordinary human. They didn't deserve to die for that.

Jazz ran, pushing Mikaela aside. He knew it was probably too late to do much more than absorb some of the blast himself, and hope that Mikaela would have time to help the two men. And hope that Ratchet would recover enough to come to her aid. He didn't have time to think, to experience any fear that his life would be over in a moment–

Jazz and Jace had both died in Mission City.

The whine of weapons discharge split the air, a split second after the sudden crash of metal on metal.

Ironhide isn't delayed.

The wash of heat and energy numbed him for a moment, as the shot missed, striking the pavement behind the car. A large furrow of melted asphalt and molten dirt trailed across the highway. Jazz stopped, legs still shaking as he watched the black figure crash into the faceless red one, sending them both tumbling into the trees.

"Jace, are you OK?" Mikaela called from where he'd shoved her out of the way. He started to turn to answer her, saw the startled and horrified expression on her face just as a shadow dropped down behind him with a loud thud.

Bands of metal circled around him– a hand? A strange voice cackled behind him as the hand tightened around Jazz's body, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Got you." The flier said, "Autobots are so easy to catch off-guard."