[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]I wanna know the answers [ Open ]

[Jazz]

No more lies.

I wanna shut the door, and open up my mind.

Timeline: Week 1, Day 3

---

It had been a while since Jazz had been so restless, so discombobulated. He'd had to stand at attention at Optimus's side, silent, steady, and though it had been days since then he still felt the jerking in his wiring shooting weird signals. Was this what it felt like when humans said something made their skin crawl? Because it sure could have been perceived as that. He had... one night patrol,  an odd change from his normal one that had been thrown his way,  but he had bit back a comment. One patrol, so.. one day? Or two?

Jazz walked without direction or purpose, unawares of the crooked path he chose. 

He hadn't been able to settle since that day when they'd been called for that abrupt meeting and their Commander- their Leader- had made his stance and put his foot down with what few of them there were within the Outpost, and still Jazz was processing everything. He had known to not step out of line, to embody the Elite Guard he had been respresenting at that moment, not that he'd had much of a choice. The circumstances called for it, even if he hated that it needed to even be done. Currently he was going through the motions, or trying to, and it wasn't going too well. The days blurred together so he didn't know how long it had been since they'd been called in. A day? A week? Somewhere in between? It could have been longer than that for all he knew, but somehow he doubted that much.

Things were off. He was off. Jazz felt like he'd been kicked offline and woken up after a long while on a whole new planet.

Now there seemed to be some new sort of chaos happening, with a call to order to control said chaos. It had started with the news of their new capture, the Deception Medic. He had been told by Prowl he wasn't allowed anywhere near, that there was too much riding on it, but why? That curiousity had been peaked, but then the meeting happened and now he was all out of sorts. Unable to shut down for proper recharge, he'd found himself pacing back and forth everywhere he could go, back and forth as if triple checking each area for something that he'd been missing.

Everything had been going down so quick that he didn't know if he were coming or going anymore, and he had questions, concerns, issues- none of which were able to be answered without starting some sort of conflict. He and Optimus had been friends for a long time and had seen many things, so what had finally pushed him over his limit like this? They'd dealt with new recruits being difficult to handle before, that was nothing new. Elite Guard had that taste time and time again, so did the Autobot Academy. The losses?

As much as it stung Jazz's spark to admit it, they'd lost far more in far less time.

Not to mention the other issue concerning- 'This damn FIDGETING.'

The crooked path came back to haunt him.

Jazz came to his senses and his visor came back online just in time to narrowly avoid slamming face-first into the wall, but his swinging fist was not so lucky and he hit the side of it against said wall- which must have been what brought him out of it. The wiring in his digits yelled at him enough for him to pull it back and inspect it to make sure he hadn't done any damage. Seemed clear, but his pride was another story. Where had he ended up now? One of the hallways, somewhere, but he'd figure that out later. Doorwings lowered slightly beind him as he just stepped forward enough to lean his helm forward and rest it against the wall he'd almost met on a much more personal level. A cracked visor wasn't something that he could afford right now, not with everything else that was happening, nor could he himself appear to break, no matter how tightly strung up he felt.

For now, it was time to deal with the thing he could confront. He straightened up and shook his doorwings with a rotation of his shoulders as he turned around to scan the area. Time to shake this feeling of being stared at like he was some sort of sideshow- waiting on him to trip up, to give someone a reason to complain.

Watch him? Him?. Sure, everyone was being directed,  but they had once shared an understanding. Jazz sure has put his neck on the line for those crash course side missions in the war to earn himself freedoms of knowledge that he didn't care blame Red for not being able to give him. 

Prowl knew better. If the Enforcer wanted to try his luck again at slamming cuffs on him again like he'd tried and failed to in the past, then so be it. He'd give him a crash course in a sleight-of-hand escape and rebound as he had before.

What was going on in that Enforcer's processor? Maybe the same worm that crawled up the Prime's exhaust port had managed its way up Prowl's?

Then what was so important and delicate about Knock Out, anyway? Maybe it was time to find out.

Now away from the wall, he started walking with a bit more intention in his steps for the first time in days. Time to see what was going on in their Outpost while he was checked out.

[Prowl]

Jazz wouldn’t have to look very far to find Prowl.

The strategist was just on his way to retrieve Knock Out from his holding cell to begin getting some answers from him after a long night of preparing his plan of attack. It had been a while since Prowl had conducted an interrogation like this, but initial programming was hard to overcome no matter how much it had been superseded by more relevant data...or by more recent experiences.

He knew he was keeping everyone in the dark except for everyone involved with this operation, and that mostly sat right with him. Patch was quite popular here at Omega, especially with the non soldier types here. The kind of bots that Prowl wished he didn’t have at his disposal. If he didn’t keep Knock Out sequestered away, it was a possibility that one of them might forget military discipline and decide to settle a few scores and thus make it impossible for Prowl to achieve his goals. Plus, his plan with Carbine would probably earn him a few more derogatory nicknames, so it was best to keep that silent as much as possible. But the truth would come out, and Prowl would own up to it. But he didn’t need to deal with the accusing looks right at the moment. Not when he had a job to do.

There was...one bot he wanted to bring in on this, but had decided against. Jazz. The saboteur had his back more times than he could count. But the bigger a conspiracy the greater the chance of having it blown wide open and exposed, and that would sabotage their chances with Knock Out. Primus...if he was keeping Optimus on a need to know basis, then he definitely needed to keep Jazz out of the loop.

At least until the time was right.

Why was he feeling guilty? This was a tactically sound decision.

Perfectly sound. At least that was what he told himself as he walked through the hallway.

[Jazz]

Whether it was Prowl finding Jazz, or Jazz finding Prowl, it was bound to happen that one of them would run into the other considering the path the saboteur had chosen after a few moments of indecisiveness. Now he had been on his way to that infamous little office tucked away where few dared to venture without being invited in first so that the music mech could give Mister Broody a piece of his mind.

While said mind may have been rather scatterbrained at the moment as it festered on things an bounced the words of their Prime from one side of his data core to the other as if trying to find space for them, it was his audials that saved him yet again. They picked up on the steps of approach and stopped him in his tracks as he centered his focus to identify the rhythm. The tip-tap-tap-clunk made Jazz smirk, and he looked up for a spot to go. Oh, it'd have been easier with an old friend of his- one day he'd have to think of trading something to get it back.

But for now, a little wall parkour and up he went- the mouse running up the clock, to grab for one of the exposed rafter beams that he grabbed onto and hoisted himself up onto to position and wait.. watch... stalk...

Too bad it wasn't that long before the similiarily colored mech passed him by. He knew his walk, but his stance was something to be much more admired. Oh, how he straightened himself out with that intentional gait when he had himself so focused on something else that he failed to catch his six. Or twelve, however one looked at it. It wasn't until he cleared past that he made his move.

"You're lucky I chose the Bot side, Prowl, otherwise I woulda scrapped ya."

Jazz dropped down from the rafters to his pedes with an eerie silence that shouldn't have been achieved by one his stature or size. With hydrolics and shock pads disengaging, he rolled his shoulders back as he stood upright, visor lighting up as he took in the sight of the other. He scoffed, his arms crossing.

"It's funny how my doorwings are supposed to be purely cosmetic- no nerve wiring, no active firing, nothin'- and yet, they feel awfully twitchy right now... almost as if someone with scrap for a poker face was tryin' to be slick with me."

[Prowl]

Son of a glitch!

Prowl looked up sharply towards the source of the voice, seeing Jazz up in the rafters. There was a short grunt of irritation as the saboteur dropped from the ceiling and landed with barely a sound, thanks to the structure of his pedes. Such modifications certainly came in handy...even though it was irritating when Jazz used them to just show off.

“That’s debatable.”

Despite the injury that he had sustained in capturing Knock Out, Prowl still had centuries worth of combat training and experience stored away in his central processor. That and he knew Jazz all too well.

“It’s more likely you would have given yourself away with some sort of attempt at ‘doing it with style’, thereby costing you the element of surprise.”

There was the faintest hint of a smile on Prowl’s face that disappeared as soon as it appeared. Despite his frankly irritating preference for ‘doing it with style’, Prowl had to admit that Jazz always produced results on whatever project or assignment he was given. And if Prowl was being honest, it was always nice to have that reassurance. It always took a load off his shoulders when he knew that Jazz was the one on the assignment.

Jazz’s accusation stung somewhat, but Prowl kept his face impassive. He had no idea what this ‘poker face’ that Jazz spoke about was, but he was able to reasonably infer what Jazz was saying.

“I’m not trying to be ‘slick’ with anyone, Jazz. You know me better than that.”

[Jazz]

"Nothin' debatable 'bout it, Prowler. Ya didn't even notice me. There's a reason ya never found me when ya wanted your quarterly meetin's, and it ain't cause I wasn't at base." Jazz paused for a moment to think it over, then made a noise and shrugged. "Most'a the time, anyway."

That wasn't the topic of conversation, however. Prowl would never admit Jazz was the better sneak than the one designated 'prowl', and Jazz quite frankly didn't have the spoons to argue.

"Ya'd think I'd know ya better, considerin' we roughed it through more scrap together than any other duo in the faction. Which is why I'm wonderin' why I wasn't on the 'in the loop' list when we got a new camper at our little hometown shindig." There was a pause as he just stared at the other. He may have been waiting to see a crack in that straight face of the other, down to the smallest twitch in his doorwings. Prowl damn well knew he couldn't hide from his scans.

"Or more specifically, why I'm on your little 'black list' for it. I know it ain't cause ya wanna keep my pretty face from bein' recognized."

[Prowl]

“If I wanted to find you for those meetings, I could have found you Jazz. I just figured that you were off doing something important. I shall amend my beliefs for the next meeting.”

Such a statement was a half-truth, and Prowl knew that Jazz knew that it was. While Prowl had been programmed as an investigator, that only got someone so far with Jazz, who was trained by the Elite Guard, an organization that tended to guard its intelligence collection methods quite closely. Even after his promotion to his current role, Prowl had always sensed some hesitation on the part of the Elite Guard intelligence officers that worked under him to reveal all the details.

“Knock Out’s apprehension was not planned. The opportunity presented itself and I took a page out of your book.”

There was the faintest, almost barely imperceptible hint of humor to Prowl’s voice as he spoke. If anyone was known for improvisation it was Jazz. However any hint of humor was gone from the next words that Prowl spoke.

“However after I had captured him, I needed an enforcer more than a spy. Sunstreaker might not have been a criminal investigator, but she knows how to detain and control a prisoner.”

[Jazz]

If it were any other mech or one that didn't know Prowl as well as Jazz did, one would have probably assumed that Prowl took him for a fool. But the saboteur knew better, and damn well knew that Prowl did as well.

"No wonder ya got your aft kicked left, right, and center and nearly sent to the junk heap for recyclin', ya dumbaft." There was a small, audible grumble as Jazz brought a servo to his faceplate to pinch the spot between his optics just under the rim of his visor. "Leave the theatrics to me, Prowler, yeah? I've been doin' this for a lot longer than you've been onli-" a pause, like a skip in a record, barely a nanoklik before he continued, "-ned as an enforcement bot, and when ya start snaggin' my moves outta my playbook, you're bound to get yourself scrapped. I pull that stuff off without a hitch cause I've been doin' it long enough to know my own limitations. Uh... prisoner ship free-falling outta the middle of space aside, that is."

In short?

"Ya big idiot."

Letting his servo drop back down, he returned both arms to cross again.

"Don't go doin' stupid stuff after all this time of livin' by your book, Prowler. My spark can't really handle losin' anyone else, let alone anyone close. Gotta trust that ya got my six should things end with us up stream without a paddle." Of course Jazz was voicing his concerns in regards to Optimus and the observations during their mandatory meeting in his own colorful way. Prowl was smart enough to figure out what he was talking about without needing to be completely out with it.

"Imply again that this spy can't handle a prisoner, and I may take enough offense to cross the threshold and I may finally decide to have that one-on-one conversation over a cup of high grade with Soundwave to sooth my hurt."

[Prowl]

“I did not get my aft kicked left, right, and center. I merely misjudged the type of weaponry Knock Out brought to the engagement as well his skill level in close quarters combat. Had I known that, I would have modified my approach.” Prowl replied a bit defensively. It was a half-truth in all honesty. While not an immediate kill wound, the cut from the Decepticon’s Chief Medical Officer’s saw had caused enough damage that if Prowl had been unable to find immediate medical attention he could have possibly gone offline, leading to a question that had been lingering at the back of his processor.

Say he’d been unable to contact base for whatever reason. Comms black out, underground, etc and he came across the same situation. Would he have pursued? Say he captured Knock Out and was injured in the same way? Would he try to work with the Decepticon to survive together? Would he kill him before going offline to deny the medic a chance to escape once he offlined?

His core programming screamed at him that such an action was a violation of moral conduct for an enforcer...but after centuries of endless war...Prowl didn’t know if he had an answer to that question.

Hopefully he’d never have to find out.

“You weren’t there Jazz. What was I supposed to do then? Wait for backup and allow Knock Out a chance to call for backup as well? Turn it into a reenactment of the Simanzi Massacre and escalate the conflict when we’re already in a precarious situation?”

He was getting a bit more defensive, but Prowl had been holding this in for a bit.

“You talk about me having your six, but you up and disappeared on us. I know enough that I would be unable to reach you, but the fact was that you weren’t here when I needed you Jazz.”

[Jazz]

Simanzi was a word that caused survivors of the event's energon to run cold. For Jazz, the chill that went up his segements instinctively caused him to lock up and he gave Prowl one of those 'looks that could kill' expressions that was far eerier to see when one didn't have optics to spare.

In an instant Jazz was on him, distance between them closed sudddenly, with a forearm pressed against Prowl's upper chassis to force him back to the wall. His voice, low enough to just be heard between them, holding venom that dripped from the words he said back to him. "Don't you dare bring that up as a comparison again, Prowl."

The planet had been under seige for generations, half their population had been wiped out. Between the flood, the heating of the southern hemishpere, and the aftermath that affected those who survived it- that was one hell of a low blow for Prowl to bring up. Unless he was really wanting to drive it home to Jazz, punish him somehow, which he figured had to be the case considering the rest of what was said by the other mech. Slowly he took a step back but let his arm linger, as if he needed the support as he turned his helm away to stare off at somthing else- anything else- that wasn't Prowl's optics.

"Guess we're even, then."

The two had always been oddly close work partners during the War before the Exodus in spite of having to keep a lot tight to his frame because of his involvement with the Elite Guard. He'd always relied on Prowl's very specific skills to alert him to threats before they arose, something that Jazz still blamed himself for to this day since it blinded him to identify them on his own. They'd had a traitor in their ranks, a traitor that Prowl had seen time and time again and never warned him about. He had trusted Prowl's judgement to a fault, and his team had all died because of it. Just like Prowl, Jazz had been holding far too much in with no one to unlesh it on. He'd been carrying the blame of the death of his team during the ambush ever since it happened just as he did the injury on his shoulder he sustained from it as a visual memory, just as he knew Prowl carried the blame of what happened to Speedtrap.

Two mechs who had just never quite gotten over their own demons. Survivors guilt, or whatever the hell they called it.

Finally he moved his arm, letting it drop as Jazz straightened himself up again and returned to looking at Prowl again.

"I'm worried about OP. He's cracked like a busted egg, but it ain't like we can tell 'im to take a load off and go on an extended vacation." Jazz brought a hand up to his helm and vented loudly. He himself was stressed out over everything, a trait he rarely showed but with a select few. Prowl was one of those merely because he wouldn't be able to hide it from him just the same way as if the shoe was on the other foot.

[Prowl]

Normally if anyone shoved Prowl up against a wall they would be in for one hell of a scrap. But Jazz wasn’t just anyone. So Prowl let the saboteur shove him up against the wall, knowing that deep down he kinda deserved it.

“Fine. Sorry.”

Sorry was one word that generally wasn’t in Prowl’s vocabulary anymore, at least not after milenia of war. But it was something he held onto for those who earned it, a sign of having earned his respect. Jazz was definitely one of those individuals.

Jazz letting go allowed Prowl to step off to the side and gain some space between him and Jazz, not so much out of fear but a desire to gain some breathing room. He recognized they were both pretty wound tight at the moment...well...tighter than they were usually wound. Despite Jazz’s laid back exterior, Prowl knew from experience that Jazz was always on his toes, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. It was something he respected about the former Elite Guardsman, because Prowl was the same way. He just did a worse job of hiding it.

“We’re at war, Jazz. Everyone’s been pushed hard.”

Way to state the obvious Prowl.

“But Prime was pretty close with Ratchet. What happened with him...he probably lost the only person he could truly confide in.”

The words were said in a very clinical, very Prowl, tone. But behind it all, there was a flicker of emotion in the words.

“Ratchet should have never been allowed outside the base alone.”

[Jazz]

Jazz flinched some hearing Prowl's words, though he was still a little irritated at him for his previous comment so it could have been easily written off as being the tail end of that rather than the sting that it actually was. He turned his head away to stare off down the hall, not to look at anything in particular- more to avoid having to look at Prowl at the moment.

"Ratchet knew the risks of goin' out alone and did it anyway. He ain't without fault in this. Even on Cybertron Ratchet could be kinda careless, but he always had a reason." Jazz vented as he brought a servo up to rub the front of his forehelm. "You're talkin'bout him like we about to mourn his loss. Our boy is still with us."

Honestly, Jazz wondered if part of it was for the best. With all that Ratchet had done and been through, forgetting most of that may have given him a more successful chance at a normal life once the war was over.

Then it was time to go back to the reason why he was so irritated in the first place. With his arms crossed, he turned back to Prowl once more, helm tilted downward slightly. His audials were working overtime as he switched his sensors there rather than his false sight. He didn't want anyone listening in on 'em, and the humans had a bad habit of having very tiny, very ghostly steps when they wanted to be sneaky. Especially Raf and Miko.

"I know ya get when ya go all 'Enforcer Mode' on us without anyone with the nerve to stand in your way. Don't put your codin' ahead of your common sense, yeah? Not all Decepticons are evil, some of 'em are just tryin' to survive. Remember that when you're dealin' with Knock Out." He stood stock still, listening for any shift from Prowl's frame. "Don't overdo it, don't be an asshole. He's still one of our kind. Ya don't know his circumstances."

[Prowl]

“Not really Jazz. That thing is not Ratchet. Not really.”

It was cold, and Prowl knew it. But for the tactician, it made it much easier for him to be able to deal with the loss by thinking of Ratchet as dead. That the thing that was walking around in Ratchet’s colors and was talking with Ratchet’s voice was just memory, nothing more. Prowl might not have been as close with the Chief Medical Officer as someone like Optimus had been, but what had happened had cut him to the spark.

MECH would pay for this. That was a promise.

However what Jazz said next caused Prowl to turn towards the saboteur slowly, his mouth pressing into a thin line like it did when Prowl was more irritated than usual.

“Knock Out might not be a Megatron or a Starscream, but you’re fooling yourself Jazz if you think that Knock Out isn’t just as responsible for prolonging the war. You think he got to where he is because of the goodness of his heart? With enough time I could have enough evidence to get him convicted in a court of law for a whole litany of criminal activity.”

He took a step towards Jazz, looking the other mech dead in the eye.

“You know how many mechs I met in the Dead End of Iacon that were just trying to survive? Not all of them were complicit in murder, insurrection, and terrorism. There’s a big difference between just trying to survive and what Knock Out has done.”

[Jazz]

Oh boy, Prowl was pushing it now.

First, Prowl threw shade at Ratchet, writing him off like he was dead and gone for whatever the reason. He threw Jazz's words back in his face as if they didn't mean anything. To Prowl, he was a lost cause to them. Ratchet was now a 'thing'- Prowl's words, not to be taken back now that they were out there for the universe to absorb and Jazz to memorize- rather than a living, breathing sentient thing. Ratchet needed their patience and support, which seemed to be something Prowl lacked in the department of tenfold. 

Second, Prowl was here, spouting off everything that Knock Out may have done, his own personal ideology on how the mech had to have gotten where he was now without any real facts to back that up. Maybe he was right, but assumptions was how they'd all gotten into this shit of a mess in the first place. This war wasn't started because someone kicked some sand in someone's eyes or broke someone's toy. 

Third, and the final mistake... Prowl was here, leveled in Jazz's face, as if trying to challenge him to fall in line. Problem was, Jazz was just as much of a wild card as always, not to be triffled with. Not to be pushed. So, just as the wild card who had been drawn, Jazz stepped up to base, drew down and back with a closed fist, and drove his fist straight up toward's Prowl's jaw with the intention to drive it right back into Prowl's head just who he was talking to. With how close the Enforcer was to him it would be interesting to watch him dodge an uppercut like that with as much force and speed as he put into it, but C'est La Vie. 

Jazz had had enough, and if he had to step on toes and be the one to remind Prowl of where he was, then Jazz sure had the nerve in his spark to do just that.

[Prowl]

Prowl wasn’t surprised by the punch. Moreso it was the fact that it was Jazz that was throwing the punch most of all. Perhaps it should have been his cue to back off, that things were getting too heated. Instead, Prowl went into action, instinct kicking in the second he saw Jazz’s frame shift towards throwing a punch, something that Prowl had seen so much that he recognized it the second he saw it.

As the uppercut sailed for his chin, Prowl immediately threw himself backwards so that the punch would sail harmlessly through the air if it's stayed on it's projected path. Once he was back about two steps he leveled his right arm at Jazz’s chest, two fingers pointing at the Autobot badge located in the center of it with his pointer and middle fingers spread apart in a V. There was a short pause as the electricity sparked between the tips of those two fingers. His other hand was pressed against the wall behind him to brace himself as the movement had been somewhat unexpected.

He didn’t fire through, hoping that the sight of the electricity would be enough to cause Jazz to back down.

“Don’t.” He warned.

He didn’t want to have to do it. He was willing to let Jazz off with a warning, but if he was forced to use force to resolve this situation he’d follow the letter of the law. Assaulting a superior officer...Jazz wouldn’t be out of the brig for a long time.

[Jazz]

 Prowl had crossed several lines that day, first with Ratchet, then with the talk about the very world that Jazz himself had been part of for most of his for functioning life, and now he'd decided to up the anty and turn that little taser toy on him? Oh boy, that was like having a blaster thrown in his face. Jazz wasn't a mech to step down, not when there was a reason to step up. He'd been called out on it multiple times in the past, both from Optimus and Magnus, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to start changing that MO for himself just because of the situation that was glaring him in the face. Apparently Prowl forgot who he was talking to.

Fine. 

"Don't what, Prowl? Get pissed off? Too late, cause I'm already beyond that point. In fact, I'm about to knock ya on your aft to take ya down a few notches."

Panels once flush with his legs began to shift, metal clanking as his hip panels slid open as Jazz did just as he threatened, what Prowl was trying so hard to stop him from doing. He walked right towards the Enforcer, a purpose in his strides, sealed with a poker face he was famous for as his field went flat. The usual easy going nature of the mech in question was out the window, changed into something far more dangerous that Prowl had managed to tap into. 

"Ya sure seem to forget that I was one of those mechs who rolled around in the slumd, did those illegal things to get by, and believed in the words Megatron preached. Know what? Part of me still does and always will. I just chose to stand with my friend when shit hit the fan, but I coulda gone either way. Reality check, Prowl. Just cause I wear the Autobot brand now don't take back the things I did to get ahead. AND, I'd do it all again."

Jazz scoffed and made a face. Boy, was he disgusted with everything that had gone down in such a short time. He stepped just within range of those digits, close enough that if Prowl tilted them forward it would be metal to metal. In the midst of getting to that position, the sounds and movement of shifting plates that had been initiated when he'd started walking had finally stopped, and the speakers tucked away there had flipped out, now flipped forward against his hips, blending in to his color scheme enough that unless one had seen it happen it would probably escape the less observant.

"Ya think our side is without any sort of fault, and ya throw everything at the cons like they're the only one who have ever committed war crimes. Wreckers, EG, we didn't make a name for ourselves by smelling flowers all day. We got blood on our servos just like the rest of 'em, some of us more than others. The Cons don't wanna blast me on sight just cause I got a pretty face."

Speaker system and headlights at the ready, Jazz was set to remind Prowl of exactly what he was capable of. The Enforcer was about to be at the receiving end of a very enlightening experience, one that he wasn't about to forget once he got over the headache.

"Go ahead, lets dance. Ya can give my systems a shock, but I'll rattle your processor hard enough you'll forget your Pit-be-damned designation for the next stellar-cycle. Test me, Prowl. Give me a damn good reason to ruin your entire day."