Flashback - Performance [Closed: Jazz]

[Deleted]

Set during the Caste System Era, in Polyhex.

"And, and, and then he does this thing with this flute-type thing — "

"Uh-huh."

"And it makes this noise like it's a Seeker engine — "

"Uh-huh...."

"And then he leaps from the stage, and BAM! All that percussion, B-Dump!!"

"I...see...."

He liked Scatterfoot. He truly, truly liked the minibot's energy and enthusiasm, and how it kept fiery a kindly spark. It drove Scatter to rise with the sun, getting up when B-Dump did to go on their runs, helping pick up trash and lost 'bots when no else did. Despite this, he found himself tired of Scatter's chattering on, sounding like a lilleth who was trying too hard to get attention. Meister this, Meister that, Meister Meister Meister — ever since news got out that he was touring Polyhex, the minibot hadn't quit. He had been saving up shanix to head into the city, and to the prestigious Polyhexian Cultural Centre to attend a show. The gleaming stage, the cheering crowds, the echoing chamber that made use of Polyhex tech meant to speed along communication and sound —

B-Dump didn't have the heart to tell Scatter he wouldn't get in. The minimum one had to be to get into the Culture Centre was a medium-caster, like a workplace chemist. Scatter cleaned pipes, Buffalo Dump removed trash, and both were far from even looking like they had brighter plating. The garbage mech shouldn't have been walking into town, Scattershot riding piggy-back, cyan optics wide with glee as he grinned from audial to audial.

"...And then, then there's this thing where he uses ambiance from parking lots...."

"He does, now does he?"

[Jazz]

Polyhex was the next place on the long list of 'places to tour' while on this binge of shows his handler was pushing him through. Praxus had been beautiful, Crystal City had it's glory, and now they were pushing into more of the informative side of Cybertron. Satellites and network commands streamed through, and the gladiatorial systems weren't so underground as he suspected the ones in Iacon were. This was not a foreign place to him, be it that he had made quite a few deliveries to inhabitants of this city, but many of the places had been 'off-limits' to him. With his new rank in society he had few obstacles now.

Maybe this time he would have a chance to actually SEE something.

Cress had business to attend to in Praxus, which left Jazz with a sub-par handler who only knew the routes of the schedule he was supposed to follow. This mech seemed more easily distracted and Jazz was confident enough that he may be able to slip away for a brief time to just get away. He loved to perform for his audiences, but he had his suspicions that things were not as open as he would have liked to think. Perhaps now was that chance to see for himself.

The fill in was going through the schedule, from how long practice was to how long each performance was supposed to be. Even those things could be tweaked as Jazz saw fit, which Cress had given up trying to force him out of the habit of doing by this point. Oh, Cress THOUGHT he had a decent little lackey in charge...

Jazz continued to stare out of the window of his transport, barely paying attention to what was being said. He knew his routine and how to do it at this point so he didn't need the micromanaging being done. As they approached the Cultural Center, Jazz noticed the crowds of his fans already gathered as they awaited their chance to enter the facility. Like usual, Jazz refused to let himself be carted off into the back entrances and the driver pulled in alongside the fenced off runway. Alongside, fans and reporters were lined up, waiting to be able to catch a close up look of the white and black polished up mech. As the transport came to a stop, Jazz sat in his seat and waited for his door to be opened. It wasn't by choice that this happened. Instead, it was a precaution that Cress had put forth everywhere he went. The doors to the transports always only opened from the outside, so as to prevent Jazz with any possible chance to sneak out when he wasn't being watched. When the door lifted up, Jazz climbed out of the transport, thanked the driver, and was right away greeted by cheers, hollering, and the flash of bright lights as he stepped onto the walkway.

All of this was typical... and it wasn't even showtime. Way to much for his taste, but show business- his career- was not his to run. So to appease the fans he loved so much, he pushed his negative thoughts to the side and smiled then raised his servo to wave and greet them.

[Deleted]

"Look, look!"

Scatterfoot frantically pointed, nudging Dumpy's chin with one foot. The wasteworker pulled away from the minibot's poking, turning his head up to see a ship. Said ship was sunshine-bright and silver-white, looking fresh from the 'wash and screaming "IMPORTANT PERSON" as it started landing. Scatterfoot's field was full of and buzzing with delight.

"That's him! That's his ship! Come on, Dumpy! Comeoncomeoncomeon — "

"All right, all right!" chuckled the mech, taking longer, faster strides towards the general direction of the landing ship. The roar of the crowd could be heard from the mostly-deserted street they were on; the majority of Meister's fans had already congregated around the Cultural Centre. A few stragglers were running/driving past the minibot and his friend, but it seemed like most 'bots had already gotten there.

And then, the two hit the roadblock.

Speed-walking as fast as a mech of his berth could, Buffalo Dump nearly tripped as a wall of mecha stopped him in his tracks. The milling, pushing crowd was being held back by several Enforcers, burly and serious and with their cassette-hounds out. The bulky, square beasts were barking and snarling at the people, keeping a large gap between them and the gated-off section that led up to the cultural centre. Signs had been put up to redirect the night's traffic, and the Enforcers were pointing this way and that, much to the sadness of some of the crowd.

"The hell is this?" said Scatterfoot, scrunching his faceplates up. "B-Dump, go around! It's blocked!"

"I think that's the point, Scatter," the mech said, trying not to sound weary. Had Scatterfoot seriously not expected this? Seriously?

[Jazz]

     Jazz could only stare at the crowds that had gathered outside the Cultural Center. The ones to one side of the blockade were those who didn't have tickets to get in, while the other side were still waiting to be able to take their seats. He couldn't help but to be touched by the amount of patrons that had come just to catch of glimpse of him, waiting around for who knew how long just to see him up close as he passed by. If there were this many outside he could only imagine that he would be performing for a packed house again. His upset was for those who had come from who knew where to see him and wouldn't even be able to see him on stage. It seemed so wrong... so...

     Segregated.

     Jazz felt a servo on his back push him forward, forcing him to walk and it drew his attention. Behind him, Cress's lackey was growing impatient with his standing around and waving and had instructed the guards who kept at either side to hurry it along, at which them they had now begun to usher him along. If Jazz had had it his way, he would have stayed out here and said hello to all of them just to make sure they knew he appreciated their support and for coming all this way, but that would make him late and Primus help him if THAT happened. So he walked the lengthy pathway, sneaking in another wave when he could, and finally stepped inside the building. From there he was led straight away to his his dressing room where he could get himself ready, followed in by his handler who was still chatting on at him about his schedule as he sat down and started to look through his array of instruments.

     Even though the information was probably important in some way, Jazz wasn't paying him attention ( as he usually failed to do with Cress, though that was to piss him off more than anything else ), only this mech wouldn't have the nerve to strike him as Cress did. Or, you know, do other things that made Jazz wish his framework would give in and melt under the touch. So, as it was, the two just did their own thing, Jazz having the more important aspect of it to keep in order, while the other talked as though the musician was paying him any mind whatsoever as he checked all chords and strings.

[Deleted]

The crowd wasn't going anywhere any time soon. The enforcers were letting people in one at a time, checking IDs and pushing anyone away who wasn't allowed. One person yelped and yelled they'd been bit, and the crowd hurried back as a cassette-hound lunged at them. B-Dump nearly tripped, and Scatter flailed as he nearly lost his balance on his friend's shoulders. The garbage mech swore quietly, and turned around to leave.

"We ain't gettin' in," he grunted. "'S'not fer us. We'll jus' check when — "

The minibot around his shoulders let go. He slid backwards and rolled off, landing on his feet behind the garbage mech. B-Dump turned around, too close for comfort to nearly knocking Scatter over with his bulk. The little blue minibot was already hurrying away, headed down a side-street without the big mech. B-Dump blinked in surprise.

"What in the.... Scatter!"

Primus, he hoped the minibot wasn't too upset. He dashed after the sky-blue, littler mech, footsteps clanging loudly as he tried to keep up. The minibot stayed within view of the wasteworker, but was faster, lighter and much more speedy than his friend. B-Dump let out an annoyed huff through his vents.

"SCATTER! Come back, younglin'! We'll, we'll see him, somehow...come back!"

But Scatter wasn't listening. Instead, he turned another corner, and B-Dump eventually did too. He skidded to a halt, no longer able to see his friend; it took him a moment to spot the pale blue plating of the young 'bot. When he did, it was as Scatterfoot began to climb a patina-plastered pipe, scrambling up the old metal like a little glitchmouse.

[Jazz]

     "It's a packed hall again."

     "A'ight." Jazz was making his way through the halls in the direction of the stage. This was not through his own knack for finding his way, but instead because he, as usual, was being escorted around like he was some flighty convict. Not like he woudl run if given the chance or something... at least, not while he was doing what he enjoyed.

     "Cress asked me to pass along the message for you to give it your all."

     Jazz would have rolled his optics if he had a functioning pair under his visor. Instead he just stayed silent as he walked up the three steps of the platform to finish setting up his instruments.

     "Cress also said to tell you to 'not wear yourself out'. He said you'd understand what he meant."

     Jazz remained as composed as he could as he walked away from Fritz, who stood off to the side and returned to scrolling through his datapad as he pointed to this and that to  have the stagehands make sure to check things over. Jazz hadn't wanted the handler to see him shudder, which he did after he set the instrument in his servo down. He exvented, wanting to clear the notion of knowing just what the hidden message was in the statement given to him. It wasn't Cress's concern for him not overexerting himself, just warning him that he'd want some alone time with him once he returned home. Usually Jazz was too tired and could use the performance as an excuse to be left alone. Seemed this time wouldn't be the case.

     The mech turned and nearly tripped over a small box that had been placed off to the side of one of the stools. Instead he caught himself, a little off in the way which he did so, and stepped on one of his pedes uneasily where he nearly stumbled right on over. Jazz looked down at the switch box and moved to pick it up so he could hand it off to one of his helpers. Fritz noticed the unnatural movement and called out to Jazz, but he didn't acknowledge him. That lead Fritz to take a step on stage and make his way over.

     "What happened?"

     "Nothin'. Just tripped..."

     "Don't worry. I'LL take care of these incompetent frazzled commoners!"

     "No no no! It's fine, really. But you can get out of my way so I can finish settin' up...-"

     Fritz was already off in his own little dictatorish world by the time Jazz spoke. He was busying himself with yelling at the stagehands, who weren't even defending themselves. Jazz covered his face with one servo, muttering under his breath about hoping that Primus would drop a chunk of the stage on Fritz or something, just to shut him up. The musician could barely take Cress, and having a little fanboy of his handler to fill in his place? It was starting to be just as bad...

     'Please, Primus. Just hear my plea for ONCE. That's all I ask...'

[Deleted]

"Scatter!"

The mech ran around the old building, trying to get sight of the minibot. He could hear the other mech's light footsteps, but Primus if he could tell what Scatterfoot was doing. The big mech turned down an alley, squinting his eyes and trying to see. The dim night sky wasn't helping his sight any.

"Scatter! Scatterfoot!"

There was a grunt, and a pale blue blur launched itself from one roof to the other. The minibot's footsteps leading farther away, B-Dump's optics widened as he realized what the little mech was trying to do. He broke out into a clumsy jog, knocking over a large trash barrel with a CLANG and a clunk, swearing between gritted dentae as he did.

"Scatterfoot! Primus's sake, get down here before you send us all to the Pit! Now!"

And of course, Scatterfoot refused to listen. From rooftop to rooftop, the little mech kept running, his bigger companion huffing and puffing all the way. They were headed in a long loop around the Centre, past less-used buildings that looked like some sort of storage area. Enforcers still patrolled the place heavily, but Scatterfoot knew better; wherever he went, it was always in a way around the mechs. B-Dump somehow managed to keep up.

Primus on a piston, yer going to get us arrested, y'lil' fragger....

[Jazz]

     It would be easily, really... so, so easily, to make this concert be the last. What was the worse that could happen?Jazz be returned to the Undergrid? No, Cress wouldn't do that to him. To send him off while he was so well known on Cybertron would open up a door that he knew his Handler didn't want to deal with. In ways, Jazz would have been more than happy to return to the workforce again, to get as far away from as possible. There was a problem with that too, however. He would be breaking his promise to Fracture to get out and never go back. There had to be another way to get himself out of this mess. Jazz just needed a little more time to figure it out.

     The screech of a protesting instrument hit Jazz's audials and he jumped, nearly dropping the wind instrument he had been tuning. He grumbled some as he set it down and stood up to shake off the unease he had. Jazz thought that being away from Cress would have relieved some of the stress he usually had to brush off while the mech was around, but now it was different. Instead of the situation just being handled there and then and being over with, he was needing to wait until he returned home. That anticipation made him anxious, and that anxiety was messing with his sensors and jumbling his focus from here to there. He hadn't gone through this many twists and knots in his wiring since Cress had first gone through the expectations of payment to the lifelong debt Jazz had to him. The musician had jumped from one kiln to another, but at least this one was on a level in the hierarchy where he could only go forward from. He had the spark to light the fire with, he just needed some more pieces to control it with. So buying time until he could get to that point was one of those requirements.

     Jazz flooded his vents then released. He was trying to steady his sensors and return his focus, but it was hard when he still heard Fritz yelling around int he background. Had Cress had that message passed along on purpose?It had to been, to get him uptight and wound up like this. Or it could have been a ploy to give Jazz a further level of punishment should he fail to control himself and ruin this performance. It wouldn't do anything to Cress's reputation, but it WOULD do something dangerous to Jazz. A failure here could make his fans upset, and that was something Jazz didn't want to risk. They came here for him, to see him perform at a level of perfection they expected and adored, and to have anything damage that would be unacceptable. 

     No, he wouldn't let Cress do this to him. He wouldn't allow him to gain an upperhand against him and push him in a corner. Jazz needed to get it together.

     'Come on, Jazz. Focus. FOCUS. Ya got this.' He thought to himself. 'And for the sake of sanity...'

     "Fritz! I can't pay attention to what I'm doin' if you're yellin' at everyone."

[Deleted]

Crk.

It was just a little tinkle at first. Barely noticeable, the sliver of glass that fell from the skylight hit the floor in a thousand crystalline pieces. So small were they, so easily crushed underfoot, that no one would think to give them attention. The next couple of pieces that fell were much the same, and lost this time to the tuning of crystal-created instruments.

Then there was the loud, resounding crack, like ice fracturing off the top of the highest of the Manganese Mountains. The delicate glass spiderwebbed outwards, various stagehands and workers looking up to see a dark figure against the glass. There was a moment of shared staring, then the frantic scrambling back as a few realized too late —

CRACK!

The glass gave way. A loud, startled rev of an engine, followed by a yell so loud it strained into mechanical sounds, travelled all the way down. A higher-pitched version of it followed, and a blackish-grey shape fell, a sky-blue smudge coming after it. People ran for cover, swearing and screeching and shielding their heads. Fritz, however, was not blessed with such reflexes.

SMASH!!

He was rewarded with the greyish figure bashing him into the ground, denting into tile and sending dust and floor fragments everywhere. The bluish smudge landed on the figure with a CLANG, bouncing off and tumbling onto the floor.

[Jazz]

     Fritz was still shouting out orders, completely disregarding the fact that Jazz had asked for him to stop several times at this point. It was messing with Jazz's focus even more than it'd already been shaken up by the possible hidden message within the one relayed to him from Cress. There really was no point to try and further try and get the temporary handler to pipe down so he could practice, so with sound check out the window Jazz just stood around and watched the crew as they were directed where to go.

     But something caught Jazz's attention and he turned his helm, the locator on his field noticing something foreign laying on stage that hadn't been there before. A piece of... what? Then another piece came down not far away from the first and Jazz managed to follow the point of origin...

     ..... Right up to the cracking ceiling overhead.

     Before he had a chance to really warn anyone about pieces falling off the ceiling, the loud rumble of the crack came to his audials and everything started to come down around him and the staff. "MOVE!" he shouted and darted quickly to the left to pull one of the staffers out of the way of a chunk of ceiling that landed where he'd previously been. Jazz could hear chaos happening as everyone started yelling and running around to avoid being struck and with dust and debris rising up it was difficult for anyone with just a set of optics to see what was happening. For Jazz it was easy since he could track the signatures by way of the tracker built into his visor. The loud sound of something heavy connecting with the floor made Jazz curious since right after that, a particular voice had suddenly stopped being heard.

     The musician went to inspect as things started to settle. A bit of dirt clogged his intake and Jazz coughed to clear it, waving his servo infront of his face to prevent more from doing the same as he walked. Jazz stopped when his pede was stubbed on something and he looked down to see the lifeless frame of a rather crushed Fritz. There were sparks coming from split panels and energon was leaking onto the stage. Now, Jazz didn't like the mech, but even that seemed a little much for the fill in handler who really had nothing to do with this except to be a pain in the aft.

     "Hey! Someone call a medic!" Jazz called out to the staffers who were just coming to realize what had happened. A couple ran off to do as they had been told while others tried to see if anyone else had been caught underneath the collapsed ceiling- or what they assumed to have happened. As the particles thinned out and settled, he noticed that a chunk of rubble was actually MOVING. Concerned, Jazz made his way over to the frame and reached a servo out towards it.

     "What in the name of---" he paused, now able to see who it was since he was right close to it. It had been a while, but Jazz made sure not to forget faces of those whom he interacted with. "... Dump?"

     There was more yelling only when he looked to see over his shoulder he spotted the trouble heading their way. Enforcers had been alerted to the trouble and were now on scene to take control of the situation. Jazz figured what had happened, even though he didn't know the reasoning behind it, but he couldn't let these guys take Dump in. ( Especially if they knew he'd been the one, as a lower class, to have crushed a Towerling- possibly to death ) Jazz stepped forward to block their path, drawing their attention as he started to talk the moment they were within audial shot.

     "Thank Primus you came! I gotta say, I'm disappointed in the construction of this buildin'! Dump here is part of my personal staff I called in from Iacon, and he could have been hurt by this place falling apart the way it is! Make sure a medic arrives quickly to care for Fritz and to look over everyone. Can't have anyone be damaged. If Fritz returns to the Well of Allsparks, I'll see to it that I NEVER support this center again!" The Enforcers looked at Jazz, then to one another, but Jazz wasn't going to give them time to muse on his words. The musician swatted his servos at them. "Shoo! Go on, hurry up!" With grumbles to one another, they called in on their transmitters to have several medics come to the Center and wandered in varying directions to assist with any injuries and take reports. While everything was happening, one of the staffers had gone to inform the audience of the issues and that there would be a delay to start; or whatever Jazz decided to do.

     In the meantime, Jazz leaned over and placed a servo on Dump's shoulder, chuckling softly as he lowered his voice so only he would hear his words.

     "Nice landin', Trooper. Score one for the little guys," Jazz said with a smile, then offered the same servo to help the large guy to his feet.

[Deleted]

Of course Scatter would have a way up. Of course he'd know about some little-noticed hole in the ground that happened to be an underground sewer line. Of course said sewer line would go underneath security, and needed B-Dump to nearly scrape his entire finish off to get through. How was he going to explain the bare patches on...well, all over him at this point, when he got to work the next day?

At least Scatterfoot had offered to buy him some new paint. And, at least the pipe leading up the side of the Centre had held while the two 'bots had climbed it. At least they had managed to get that far, until both of them didn't think over where skylights could be stood on. By the time they had heard the cracking, B-Dump's patch was starting to give, and Scatterfoot had tried to grab him in a hopeless effort to drag him off.

By the time B-Dump realized what had happened, his audials were ringing, and he could barely hear people screaming. He let out a harsh ex-vent and a groan, the loud whuff blasting out a circle of dust from beneath him. There was a black part between the roof and now, and code errors were making a long list in his HUD; he wiggled around, starting with his fingers, then his hoof-like toes —

Someone was under him. Someone was under him, and his olfactories were full of Energon- and spilt fluid-smell. The big mech jerked upwards, hands planted on either side of a very skinny, very squished 'bot underneath him; the garbage worker's field went still. He stared with wide, orange optics at what was beneath him, all sounds still distant.

Oh, PRIMUS!

Despite being dizzy as all Pit, he still got to his feet, huge digits reaching and digging for the squashed 'bot. Round shoulders, armour-shine, form-fitting biolights — had he just squished a Brightplate?! Primus, I've squished a Brightplate!! With a quick heave, he managed to peel the poor spark from the floor, gently turning him face-upward and laying him beside the hole. His field was spiking with panic, jittery and snapping back and forth, because sweet merciful Primes he was going to be meshed alive when his boss found out —

"...Dump?"

"Huh?!"

The mech spun around, glancing about before looking down. He stared at a black-and-white 'bot, helmet looking like it had cybercat ears, a blue visor over their optics. The big worker began to say something, but froze in panic when the Enforcers came in, looking over at the burly security. Slagslagslagslag! went over and over in his head, thoughts only of being taken in, of being charged, of being dragged to some sort of jail or Primus-have-mercy, a Garrus. This had to be attempted manslaughter, right? Right?

And where the frag was Scatterfoot?!

While Jazz was handling the Enforcers, B-Dump looked around. The little, sky-blue sewer 'bot was nowhere to be seen, despite having fallen in roughly the same direction he had. He went to go check off the stage, but being dazed, didn't notice a large chunk of rock underfoot. With a grunt, he went crashing back to the floor again, the stage groaning in protest as he landed on its weakened spot.

In the meantime, Jazz leaned over and placed a servo on Dump's shoulder, chuckling softly as he lowered his voice so only he would hear his words.

"Nice landin', Trooper. Score one for the little guys," Jazz said with a smile, then offered the same servo to help the large guy to his feet.

"Whuh...?" came the mech's grunt, field swinging back and forth unevenly. He slowly pushed himself up again, gladly taking the hand as he rose back up, knees shaking a little. His head was starting to hurt....

[Jazz]

Jazz did his best to hoist up the much larger mech, forced to lean far back and distribute his weight as such to keep himself from falling forward on-top of Dump. That would have definitely been a site to see to those on the outside but certainly not a position Jazz would have liked to try and explain away to his Handler. While Dump was now upright and reasonably situated he took note of anything that seemed peculiar with him- from any odd lean to a look that would have hinted to something more serious than curiosity. Just previously Jazz had spotted him glancing around as though he were looking for someone or something, but had no clue what that even was. Had he dropped something?

"You alright there, bi'guy? Ya look more confused than a scraplet that's been locked inside a glass case."


While Jazz had been helping Dump to his pedes, the medical team had arrived and his attention was drawn to the situation there. He had to at least pretend that he cared or it would have probably been turned on some level of suspicion to him. As if he really would have had someone fall from the sky and crush his temporary handler! He would have gone for his main trouble had that been the card he wanted to play. This was but a small fry, though he was thankful for the brief time of freedom he'd get because of this turn of events.

Once Fritz had been loaded up and carted out and the Enforcers gathered what they needed ( not without optics falling on Dump, however ), they moved out of the way to allow the cleaning crew to begin their work to restore the stage to it original condition. If they wanted Jazz- Meister- to perform, they would need to have everything done within an acceptable level of safety. Until then, Jazz was free to... well... roam.

"We should get outta here so we ain't in the way."

Get as far away from this fraggin' place as we can while I can...