Warning: another OC death (may squick)
Disclaimer: don't own Transformers, make no profit from this
Jazz had not wanted counselling and had said as much when it was suggested but apparently his rejection of the offer had been ignored and two orns later he was summoned to a small room in the administration block where he found himself seated opposite a stranger with a totally inappropriate designation.
"Cleaver?" he echoed after the mech introduced himself. "What kinda crazy name is that for a psychologist?"
"Well my sponsor wanted me to be a confections chef but I guess Primus had other plans for me."
"You could've changed your name."
"Yes I could, but I'm used to it. And besides, it works well as an icebreaker with mechs who don't want to talk."
Jazz frowned.
"I got no problem talkin'. I just got nothin' t'talk about."
Cleaver nodded patiently, pausing for a moment then speaking again.
"Did you know him well?"
"We weren't exactly friends, if that's what ya mean." Jazz replied dully. "He stuck to a small group, moved in diff'rent circles t'me."
"How long did you know him?"
"A coupla vorns. He was in my intake group when I came to th'Academy. He's been in some o'my classes. I dunno why you're wastin' your time talkin' t'me - y'should be talkin' to his friends."
"We're talking to everyone who was present." Cleaver explained. "This has been a traumatic episode..."
"Made a whole lot more traumatic by havin' t'talk about it!" Jazz cut him off angrily.
He expected the other mech to reprimand him, or at least look upset, but instead Cleaver simply nodded and handed him a small datacard.
"Perhaps now's not the best time for you. Shock hits mechs in different ways, and that's okay, it's perfectly natural. Hold on to this, and if you ever just want to talk, call me."
"That's it?" Jazz asked warily.
Cleaver smiled warmly.
"This is not an interrogation, Jazz. I'm here to support you. If you want to stop, then we'll stop. Shall we stop for now?"
Jazz nodded numbly, and Cleaver rose.
"Well that's fine. But do call me if you change your mind. The Academy are covering the costs up to six full sessions for each affected student, so the option is always there. At least let me just walk you out."
Jazz followed the psychologist into the hall and through to the main courtyard, then grimaced and gestured.
"He's the one you should be counselling." he pointed to Piper who was standing over by a statue of Prima, ignoring the students who were clearly avoiding him.
"Why is that?" Cleaver asked.
"He was frag..." Jazz began to reveal the widely known gossip, then stopped himself.
He didn't know for certain what Veneer's relationship with Piper had been and he no longer had any interest in finding out.
"They were close." he corrected himself gruffly.
"I don't believe he was on my appointment list."
"Well he can have my sessions." Jazz offered. "He'll need'em more than I do."
He could feel the psychologist looking at him appraisingly but refused to turn his head and eventually Cleaver nodded.
"Well perhaps you would introduce me to him?"
Jazz snorted, shaking his head.
"Piper's never had much time for me."
"And yet you still make such a generous offer on his behalf."
"I ain't sparkless - anyone can see the mech's hurtin'." Jazz frowned, then huffed. "Oh for pity's sake, alright, I'll introduce you. Come on."
He led the way across the courtyard until they were right behind the preoccupied tutor.
"Hey, Piper." he called awkwardly. "Someone here wants ta meetcha."
The tutor stiffened, then turned slowly to stare at them. Jazz flinched away from the blank look.
"Piper, Cleaver. Cleaver, Piper. I'm outta here."
He turned away and hurried down the path but before he could get far he heard a gasp and a confused exclamation, and then a rumbling noise and he was knocked from his pedes. Disoriented, he found himself on the ground, face down on the path. His optics focused on something nearby but could not identify it. A shallow, jagged-edged bowl of some sort, filled with energon? Struggling up to his hands and knees he looked back the way he had come and momentarily could not make sense of the scene. There was a crater in the ground where the statue had been, and the courtyard tiles were cracked and scattered. Some of them were smeared with fluid.
His gaze returned to the first thing he had seen, finally able to take it in context, and this time instead of a weirdly-shaped bowl he saw it for what it truly was: the back of Cleaver's helm.
Then he began to scream, and it was a long time before he stopped.
Interlude
Location: Enforcer Headquarters, Praxus
The Enforcer paused before the commander's door, taking just a few clicks to check that his appearance was flawless before pinging for entry. The door opened immediately.
"Officer Barricade reporting as requested, sir." he announced, saluting.
"Come in, Barricade." Brass said warmly. "Take a seat."
There was only one available, placed directly in front of the desk, and Barricade seated himself in it while simultaneously taking in the group before him.
Commander Brass was not alone. He was joined by two other mechs Barricade already knew: Checkdigit, a programming specialist, and Lighttouch, head of research at the medical academy, Ordan Helix. All three had known Barricade for several vorns, and it was usually a pleasure to see them, but this did not feel at all like a social event. Particularly with the way Lighttouch was frowning at the commander.
"I don't like this idea." he grumbled to Brass. "We went to a great deal of trouble to get Barricade settled in here as a specialist in strategic planning. He's not prepared for field work."
"The stress may well activate his glitch." Checkdigit agreed, looking worried. "Surely someone else could do this instead?"
Barricade said nothing, but was dismayed by the indications that he might be sent out. He had barely had a chance to establish himself here, not even a vorn. He was beginning to make some headway with his colleagues, getting beyond their suspicions of any new arrival with no past, and that was not an easy thing for him given his background.
"We have discussed this." Brass dismissed the concern. "You've said your piece, now let's not repeat ourselves. Barricade, you know very well it was our intention to see you placed in your current position for at least half a century without any disruption, but a very unusual situation has arisen. I believe the best option, however unusual, would be to put you in an undercover position immediately."
"Sir, I am not at all ready for field work." he said, trying to see some form of reasoning in the bizarre suggestion. "For reasons which are well known by all in this room, I am underqualified for any type of fieldwork, and I have certainly not had the specialised training to be completed before being assigned undercover work. Moreover, it is not the best use of my skill set."
"In this case there are special circumstances." Brass told him. "I assume you have heard about the deaths at Iacon Academy?"
The news had been hard to miss, being the first civilian deaths in the capital city for over three millennia.
"Two suicides." he responded, summarising what he knew. "One student, named Veneer, cut into his own circuitry with a commissary knife. Two orns later, a teacher set off a grenade, killing himself and four bystanders as well as injuring several others. The latter is of particular concern given the military weapon used but I understood the cause to have been put down to an unsanctioned relationship between teacher and student."
"That is the official story." Brass nodded briskly. "However we've been given cause to think there may be something more to it. We need someone to investigate from the inside and check that nothing has been overlooked. Clearly there is already a great deal of suspicion and fear and a new mech coming in to this environment would not be welcomed, may in fact be spotted as an Enforcer agent no matter how skilled or well trained, however with you we have a unique opportunity to implant someone who has a solid cover story."
Brass paused expectantly, and Barricade reluctantly finished with what was now obvious.
"You want Prowl to go to the Academy, not Barricade."
"Indeed. There isn't any actual evidence that anything illegal is occurring here, but if the anonymous caller is correct it is not the sort of thing a standard investigation will uncover. We need someone to infiltrate the student body there and it needs to be someone whose presence won't be suspicious. Any new student will be watched and one who is asking a lot of questions is too obvious but a student who was from the same cohort as some of the others would be accepted more quickly."
Barricade shook his head slowly.
"I am not sure that that will help. I was not a popular student and never one to spend much time socialising - surely a trained infiltrator would be better than the unexpected return of a mech who is now acting entirely out of character?"
"You'll need to judge carefully how you approach information gathering, but I believe it would be rational enough to expect for you to want to catch up on what you've missed." Lighttouch said quietly. "After all, the accident must have had some impact on you."
Some impact? Barricade mused. Now there was an understatement.
"Very well." he agreed, far from convinced but accepting that this was an order and not a debate. "What information precisely am I to seek?"
"We're not sure." Brass admitted. "The only clue we have at this stage is that a student named Jazz has been present at both incidents, and his name was given in an anonymous tip which turned this investigation from suicide to potential murder..."
End interlude
Jazz lay with his head in Slimline's lap, trying not to think. It felt safe, here. It was not so safe elsewhere.
Piper had killed himself with a grenade. The Enforcers were still trying to determine how he had obtained a military weapon in the first place, but it was an academic question at this point. The explosion had killed three students and Cleaver, and had injured six others. Jazz himself had been discovered to have shrapnel in his back and legs, and even a piece lodged into his helm.
He had specifically asked them not to tell him where those pieces had come from. He was trying to convince himself that they were pieces of the destroyed statue but was having little success with that attempt at self-delusion.
In any case, his own injuries had been minor. He had been back in his dormitory within two groons, but there was little peace as first the Enforcers had come to interrogate him, followed soon after by various members of the Academy staff. They all wanted to know what he had said to Piper, and what Piper had said in return, since he was the last one to speak with him.
"He didn't say anythin'." he repeated dully.
It was a statement he had made over and over again, and yet still the questions came.
"Shh." Slimline murmured, rearranging the linkmesh blanket covering him and stroking his face. "You're supposed to be charging."
He flinched.
"Can't."
"The medics left you a stasis script." his lover reminded him. "You should use it."
"Hate havin' things playin' wit' my processes."
"Strange, when you spend so much time playing with others."
He looked up in surprise.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing really. Except it's kind of wrong. You're always playing about in other mechs programming."
"I've never hurt anyone."
"You think the medics want to hurt you?"
He shook his head irritably, sitting up.
"Of course not. What the frag is wrong with you?"
Slimline recoiled.
"With me? You're the one who's glitching."
"And why shouldn't I be?" Jazz demanded. "First Veneer tops himself, then Piper. Stuff like this doesn't happen in real life. Everyone's gone crazy."
Slimline glared at him.
"Including me, I suppose."
"What?" Jazz asked blankly.
But Slimline was already rising and stalking away.
"Fine. Do what you like. I don't have to put up with this - you're not the only one upset, you know."
"Liney, please, don't go." he begged, scrambling up and hurrying after her. "Please? I'm sorry."
She paused.
"Are you going to use the script?" she asked.
It didn't make any sense to him what difference it made to her whether he did or didn't, but he nodded.
"Sure. Whatever. Just don't go. Please?"
And just like that, all her irritation melted away.
"You'll feel better when you wake up." she promised. "You need to charge, that's all."
"Yeah." he said, trying to convince himself. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"Of course I'm right." she teased, kissing him lightly then taking his hand and pulling him back to the berth. "I'm always right."
"Dunno what I'd do wit'out ya." Jazz agreed, going willingly.
Yet just as he was lying down again, there was a ping at the door. Slimline huffed and sat on the side of the berth.
"Well?" she demanded. "Aren't you going to answer that?"
Biting his tongue on the comment that she was in a strange mood tonight, Jazz hauled himself up and went reluctantly to open the door. Outside he found Smokescreen.
"Hey." the Praxian said awkwardly.
"Hey. What's up?"
"We're holding a memorial for Piper and Veneer. Just the students. Thought you'd like to come."
At first glance the memorial was not markedly different from many of the parties that were held in the Polyhex block common room, with plentiful high grade of such poor quality that you had to be drunk before you could actually drink it and deafening music which drowned out most attempts to talk. The space was overflowing, two or even three times more than the number who would usually come. No-one was really dancing or enjoying themselves, though.
Slimline disappeared into the crowd leaving him alone, saying something about finding them something to drink, and Jazz wandered aimlessly until someone called to him. Clattertrap. He winced, not really in the mood for his classmate's moods, then changed his mind remembering that Clattertrap always had access to the best high grade. Getting drunk sounded like a really good idea right now.
"Hey, Trap."
Sadly, Clattertrap did not look at all drunk tonight, his expression strangely serious.
"Jazz. I need to talk to you."
"Sure."
Clattertrap drew him back into a small break in the crowd then leaned in close.
"You knew Veneer was going to do something. You gamed him. You made him do... what he did."
"I gamed him, but not like that!" Jazz hissed, horrified, pulling Clattertrap out into the corridor. "It was just a bit of fiddling with his taste sensors, but he never even took his energon."
"And Piper?"
"What about Piper?"
"You were the last one to talk to him. Why?"
"I was tryin' to do'im a favour."
"A favour?" Clattertrap scoffed.
"Yeah!" Jazz huffed. "The counsellor didn't even know about Piper, I thought he could do with someone to talk to. I introduced them, that's all. I didn't game him."
"But you hated Piper. Everyone knew it. Why would you want to help him?"
"I didn't hate him." Jazz disputed.
"Sure you did, everyone knows that. So are you gonna confess?"
"Confess to what? I didn't game Piper."
"Can't prove it, though, can you? There isn't enough left of him to search for the code."
"That's disgusting!" Jazz recoiled.
"Just know I'm watching you. I'll go to the Enforcers if I get any proof."
Disturbed by this unexpected attack from a mech he had long considered a friend, he broke away and rushed to the other side of the room, grabbing a cube of energon and hurrying out into the hallway. There, to his dismay, he found a small group of tutors blocking his path.
"Uh, excuse me, can I get through?"
Two of them focused on him, and their gazes didn't feel friendly.
"Jazz. We've just been talking about you." Hydrocore said coolly.
"Really?" he asked weakly.
"Yes. You're one of only three mecha who have been present at both incidents. Do you have any idea why that might be?"
Jazz stared at him blankly.
"Bad luck. Seriously, what are you suggesting?"
"We're not suggesting anything." Academe said quickly, glancing at her colleague warningly then smiling at Jazz with a smile that seemed false. "It's just unusual, that's all."
"And everyone knows you didn't like either of them." Hydrocore continued.
"Just because I didn't like them doesn't mean I wanted to see them deactivated!" Jazz shrilled, stunned that two of the teachers could be this blunt.
Bad enough that the other students were whispering about him, but now the teachers had started listening too? Pushing through he headed back to his room. Arriving, he saw the datastick holding the medic's script and considered it for a moment, then locked the door and curled up on his berth. He would download the script into a drone so it looked like he'd used it; right now he was sick of being manipulated. He just wanted to be alone.