Ep. 0.5 - Up to Speed - Closed

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[[This happens roughly between Flux and Turn and Haleakalā in ep. 0.5]]

Jazz liked new places and people. After his first submersion in the internet, he'd known that though he might not TRUST the humans, he sure liked their culture. So varied, so interesting, so strangely, squishily, living-at-the-speed-of-light ORGANIC. So he actually really liked the idea of going on patrol. Ever since Optimus had dropped his "ok, you're an officer now, have fun!" bomb in Jazz's lap, Jazz had spent most of his duty time scoping out the base, working up security plans, and getting to know everyone who'd stand still to talk to him (and some who wouldn't).

Today, though, he was slated for patrol duty. And since it was his first time, he had a patrol buddy. Someone who'd been on his list of mecha to talk to, even.

Jazz met up with Arcee in Control. He grinned at her. "Hey there, teach. We good to go?"

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Arcee turned away from the console and turned the spec-ops ‘bot with a, a slight smile tugging at her lip components. “Afternoon, Jazz.”

Jazz’s energy and mood was certainly infectious, she had to admit. Perhaps, this patrol wouldn’t be all business, but an enjoyable ride as well.

Normally, Arcee ran her patrol rounds alone, but this gave them an opportunity to show Jazz the local area and help get the ‘bot furthered settled into his new officer position. Arcee certainly could relate. The two-wheeler never led a team in the field before until she came to Earth and was appointed Optimus’s 2IC. The patrol also served the duel purpose to learn more about Jazz.

The blue femme was more typically more stand-offish towards spec-ops specialists given her past history with a notorious one. She wanted to see what sort of masks Jazz also wore.

Arcee activated the ground bridge, the vortex roaring in the background. “We are now.”

The two-wheeler transformed and only a waited a moment for Jazz to follow suit. Revving her engine, she rushed head long into the ground bridge to the patrol destination. Moments later, rust red dirt met her tires creating a billowing cloud of dust. “How are you adapting to your new postion?”

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Jazz chuckled as the bridge collapsed behind them, leaving them alone and rolling along the road. "I think I'm getting the hang of it. Kinda. Sorta. I'm doing things, at least, and I think that they're things I'm supposed to be doing. There's certainly enough things to be done."

The local sun was high in the sky, and Jazz enjoyed the heat sinking into his plates as they sped around a curve, Arcee in the lead. "I haven't had a lot of experience with xenorelations or leadership or organization, so I'm gonna have to lean on you all that have been here awhile for that. I'm so open to advice, you have no idea. I've just been trying to do things the way I'd like someone else to do it, but if I do something wrong or try to reinvent the hover drive, just let me know."

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“You’re doing just fine, Jazz,” Arcee assured, leaning into the pavement around a particularly sharp curve. She quickly activated her “Sadie” hologram before a red sedan blitzed past in the other lane.

“Besides, nobody’s going to get it right the first time, that’s a Prime Standard,” Arcee said with slight snort. “Mishaps are going to occur, despite a ‘bot’s best laid plans. That’s the first task one needs to acknowledge. When half your squad is dead from an enemy attack, you can’t throw away your weapon. You owe it to them to get yourself and the rest out alive.”

“You do what you can, when you can,”

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"Heh, tell me about it. Sometimes wondered why I bothered going on missions with any plan at all. Nothing survived more than five kliks past meeting an enemy. Only plans ever worked was when we managed to stay out of sight the whole time, and there weren't many of those."

Jazz's tinted windows hid the fact that he did not, in fact, have a driver, holographic or not. He put "get a holoform" on his to-do list. Jasper was too small a town for him to just randomly scan a human, but maybe he could get a base and work on the features from pics on the internet or something....

"Naw, what I meant was, well...y'know. Don't want to step on anyone's pedes or overstep and frag someone off. And I'm not...so good sometimes at figuring out the right call." Jazz's glyphs descended into complications, uncertainties, and a genuine acknowledged inadequacy. "I play What Would Prime Do? a lot."

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“I doubt you’re the only ‘bot that’s played that game.” Arcee snorted. She mulled over the shaky frequency she was picking up from Jazz, quite surprised by the saboteur’s honest admission. Loosing up a little, she tried broadcasting encouragement. “The security upgrades were a crucial need and installed accordingly, Jazz. Seems to me, you’ve found your area of responsibility outside spec-op missions.”

“I take point and lead teams in the field under orders from Optimus.” Arcee expounded on the dynamics of the Autobot pecking order. “However, as also his 1st lieutenant, I’d take over command of our motley bunch should something ever happened to Prime,” A band of extreme reluctance leaked through her EM field, “which Primus forbid it ever happens.”

“I can’t tell you there’s a simple method for leading, Jazz.” Arcee signed, matter-of-factly. “However, I can give you a guaranteed formula for failure: trying to please everyone.”

(OOC: The irony of Arcee's middle remark is killing me!)

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Jazz's laughter was tinged with wryness. "Oh, don't I know it." It didn't keep him from trying, that was sure, but he at least had learned to prioritize somewhere along the way. Sometimes. Mostly.

Jazz also got the feeling that he wasn't fully getting through to Arcee what he meant, but that was all right. Time for it later.... "And I'm ok, really! And man, did the base need that hardening. I mean...yikes. It's not perfect now, believe me--I've got a to-do list a mechanomile long--but it's better. Let me know if you see anything else that needs doing." He'd heard some of Arcee's background and imagined that she could understand some of where he was coming from.

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“Indeed.” The glyph for acknowledgement followed her words as she recognized Jazz’s honest efforts. Awkward silence hung between the two Autobots for several miles as Arcee momentarily debated further course of conservation. Arcee’s field wavered with uncharacteristic indecision. She was stalling. In her brief meandering thoughts it finally occurred to Arcee that perhaps she’d misunderstood at what Jazz was getting at. Indeed, she was having more difficulty with this conversation then she anticipated. He was nothing like Barricade, that much was obvious.

Rotating her side mirror, the two-wheeler studied the disguised spec operative. A proven and loyal Autobot for many vorns, Prime trusted him unquestioningly. Arcee didn’t question her leader’s decision to promote this bot, but her time before and during the war had harden her too much to easily trust another mech. Before she could entrust Team Prime completely to him, she wanted…no NEEDED…to hear Jazz’s past from him and not what she knew from his file.

They were hitting a long isolated stretch of road, perfect to ensure no interruptions. She extended her EM field to brush alongside Jazz’s, emoting only a neutral wavelength to indicate an open invitation.

“Jazz,” Arcee started coolly, keeping her normal edge out of her voice. “A bot’s profile contains a record of his actions, but rarely the reasons for them. For what reasons, did you switch factions?”

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Ah, there it is....

It was the inevitable question, really, for anyone who'd started the war as an Autobot. Ex-Neutrals usually didn't ask. Other defected 'Cons DEFINITELY didn't ask. But Autobots asked. Mostly because there had been too many incidences (on both sides, though Jazz knew better than to point it out) of defectors being agents who eventually caused minor-to-massive damage before escaping or being taken down. He'd be reassuring mechs for the rest of his life, Jazz expected, and the fact that he was spec ops and that sneaking and lying were part of his job description never helped his cause.

"I switched because I couldn't stand bein' a 'Con anymore," he said, his glyphs superceded by understanding that she'd need to ask. "The 'Cons weren't heading where I wanted to go--where I wanted our planet and our species to go--anymore. Megatron was turnin' into the same kind of tyrant that I'd joined the 'Cons to fight against. Oh, and Starscream was tryin' to kill me, but that was the least of my worries, really."

Jazz paused as a car passed them, trailing laughter and cigarette smoke.

"Those're the short answers." His glyphs made it clear that by "short" he wryly meant "hopelessly incomplete, and I'll expand on any of them that you want."