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Characters: @jazz , Ratchet Location: Medical Bay Content Warnings: n/a Plot Summary: Jazz has to pay a visit to Ratchet, though it's hardly willingly or by choice. A short in his knee prevents it from being used so for the sake of needing it to function properly, he finds himself in the medical bay of the (in)famous Autobot Medic....
Jazz had been going with the knee as it was since he woke up at base, but the creaking and stiffening had been a recent issue that had started shortly after he had promised Prowl he would see Ratchet about his injuries. Karma? Coincidence? Something his frame came up with as a way to ensure he went to see the medic? Something Prowl did? Whatever the reason behind it, what had started as just damage to his externals had escalated to the right knee refusing to work correctly, becomming more problematic until finally it just stalled out and stopped functioning entirely on him. He couldn't bend it to walk, couldn't flex it to transform. Yet that hadn't been what ended up bringing him here.
No- it was the Autobots around him complaining about the noise he made. Of all the things, NOISE is what got him trapped in the medical bay. The creaking of him trying to move his leg as he walked was what alerted those around him, drew their optics to him and caused him to be the focus wherever he went. That was how the knee issue must have been spotted. Someone had ratted him out. The note that had been sent anonymously to him had been simple in its threat:
'Get yourself fixed up, or I take it to Optimus and Ratchet myself.'
Jazz had had no choice, really. So he let the medical team know that he was on his way to be checked out- like making an appointment or sorts to see Ratchet. That mech he knew, so he trusted him more than he would any of the others. Not because of their abilities, no, but because Jazz had this strange... irrational fear of medics. The reasoning was kept as secret to him as most of his past so it was only logical that it had to have something to do with an event somewhere in that unknown area of Jazz's life. Either way, it drove Jazz to keep out of going to be checked out even after battles, even if he were missing parts of himself. Most of time he had to be strapped down just so scans of his systems could be done properly. In short? He was a problem for anyone who had to see him, but he was a lot better with Ratchet than anyone else, though even Ratchet had major issues with keeping him both still, calm, and patient during procedures. At least he had gotten over the kicking, punching and biting...
When he arrived he had been sat down on one of the berths in a separate room and the door behind him locked. His urge to flight was already kicking in already before that and now as he waited he sat there swinging his good pede back and forth and strummed his digits on his knees. The thing was that even though they locked the door they hadn't exactly sealed him in. Somehow the saboteur had spotted a way out and jumped at the opportunity to get the heck out of there. So by the time Ratchet would arrive? Jazz would be gone.
Almost.
Creaking noises would give him away. On the wall towards the ceiling there was a duct that led to the ventilation shafts and somehow the sabatour had managed to get himself up there even in spite of having one leg not functioning. Currently he was hoisting himself up into the shaft and the screen was on the floor beside the medical berth.
Oh, how Ratchet liked things organized like this. He hadn't expected it to be Jazz of all mechs, but he would at least be forgiving in the fact that the saboteur had actually made an appointment to begin with. Besides, he had that added bonus of being an old friend back on Cybertron to Orion Pax, and it made the two of them friends as well. But Primus was he loud!
Ratchet had stepped out for a little bit to relax for a brief moment in his quarters. There he went over the notes that Jazz had oh so graciously left for him in regards to this visit. Something about a bummed knee. He could only imagine the number of things that could be wrong with it, but maybe that would explain the loud creaking sound he would hear from time to time? Not once had he pinned the source of the noise on one of their own, but it was a good theory nonetheless. If that's all it had been, a creak, then perhaps all he needed was a good oiling to his joints. Primus knew Ratchet needed it from time to time.
Once it was time for the appointment, the CMO left his quarters with datapad in hand, heading towards the medical bay. He had hoped that he'd find Jazz sitting right on the berth waiting for him. Holding his datapad up, he looked at his notes one more time as he walked. "Alright, Jazz.. You came to see me about a.."
No Jazz.
As the elder medic grumbled to himself he heard a familiar creak, and that's when he noticed a familiar figure sticking out of the shaft up above.
Oh for the love of Primus..! "JAZZ! You get down here this instant!"
Climbing up, Ratchet grabbed at the saboteur, pulling him back towards the medical bay. How dare he try to escape after he went through the trouble of making this appointment. There were fees that were going to be paid if he skipped out and wasted Ratchet's time. "What in the name of Primus do you think you're doing? You call me here and then try to bail? That knee of yours must not be as bad as you're making it out to be if your can get yourself all the way up there with no troubles."
Jazz want having the best off time trying to get into the vent, as he was actually using one leg. It did surprise him that he was able to get this far, though, but that may have just been his determination to not be stuck here any longer than he already had been. He needed to get away, to flee from the medbay before he was discovered. Everything seemed to be going the right way for him. Frankly, Jazz had just gone and lost his nerve. Screw making an appointment! He'd deal with the consequences later.
Then he was discovered.
Jazz heard the voice of the medic and right away he panicked, trying to scramble into the vent. When he heard his designation being yelled and the order to come down down he knew right away that he was caught. He heaved, trying to slink into the vent. So close, all he had to do was have another couple of inches and he'd be home free. The grab of his leg told him he was done for. He tried to dig his doctors into the metal vent but it was for nothing. He was dragged right on out and found himself being hauled back while being fussed at. He didn't do much to struggle, as the backward yank and dragging left him hobbling since the bad knee wouldn't so much as bend so there wasn't much he could do.
"Ow! Ratch! Stop, that hurts! Come on, man!" Jazz protested the entire way to the berth, which he was shoved on roughly. He would have made further complaints but he stopped the moment he saw the medic who stood before him. "Um... oh, sorry. You're not Rat--" A flicker of his visor, silence, and Jazz was left questioning why he hadn't thought this was Ratchet. Was it? "Oh. That was weird. Anyway, sorry, Ratch. Uh... It's just a knee thing, so I can actually take care of it myself! Nothin' that a couple drops of oil can't help! Sorry for wastin' your time, man. I guess I jumped the gun on the'pointment thing." Jazz was trying to slip himself off the medical berth, figuring that Ratchet would have just let him go since Jazz ensured him he would take care of the knee himself.
Truth was, the knee wasn't just a case of dripping some oil in. The circuits had been entirely severed, which meant that it would need to be almost entirely taken apart and repaired. As for the rest of him? He was in rather pitiful shape, looking like he had been roughed up something awful by someone else. There hadn't been reports of any fights, though, so who Jazz had gotten into a skirmish in was beyond anyone's knowledge.
Success! Jazz had been pulled right out of the vent. Another victory for Ratchet!
The medic let go of the saboteur's leg as soon as he was pried out, Ratchet dragged the mech towards the berth and shoved Jazz onto it, crossing his arms with narrowed optics. Jazz was tripping over his own words, and for a moment.. it had almost seemed like he had forgotten completely who the medic was. Primus, if he and Pharma were getting mixed up again.. The other medic was a seeker! Granted, they did share many similar features, but that was besides the point. Either was, Jazz seemed to gather his bearings quickly enough and realized his potential mistake.
And just as fast as he'd gotten Jazz onto the berth, the other mech was just as quick to hop off, making excuses for his knee. If it could simply be repaired on his own, why bother with the appointment?! The CMO watched for the briefest of moments, watching Jazz attempt to flee the scene when he realized just how bad off the guy was. He'd noticed the cracked visor, but there had also been dents and marks that looked all too much like blaster fire. That hadn't even been the half of it.
"Yip yip yip!" Ratchet thrust his arm forward, grabbing Jazz by the wrist before pulling him back. "Don't think you're getting off so easily, Jazz. Can't you see how injured you are? Or perhaps you can't with that cracked visor of yours. You are getting back on that berth, and I am going to fix you. Do you understand?"
The medic scoffed, shaking his head. "Honestly.. would you rather I get Optimus involved in all this? I don't think he'd appreciate one of his crew running around, damaged like this. You're hardly fit to be on duty in your current condition."
The first problem was that Jazz was already annoyed from his knee being as messed up as he knew it was. The second issue was that he was flighty as it was which meant that his nerves were uptight and on edge from being in the medical bay. The odd moment of not recognizing Ratchet was unsual and he didn't like that it had happened in the first place, considering that... well.. this was Ratchet! He should have know who he was. Third issue?
The mistake that Ratchet had made was grabbing Jazz. Being tightly twisted like a spring the way he was meant that he was just as quick to snap on the medic just as he would any Decepticon who had made the same mistake. So when Ratchet grabbed his wrist, instinct and training kicked in. His servo twisted around in the grip so that he could hold onto Ratchet's own wrist and he yanked, pulling at the arm to bring it towards him as he twisted around on his good leg. His free arm came up, the palm of his servo aimed to deliver a devastating blow to the underside of Ratchet's elbow. It would have gone against his joint, and the skilled drive would have made the connection painful before it would actually snap it and render the arm useless.
Just as it seemed that the medic would have needed to have attention of his own? Jazz stopped. As if realizing what he was doing, he halted his move and came to instead wrap that previous aimed servo gently around Ratchet's elbow. He stood there, just holding onto his old friend with his helm tilted down.
"R-Ratchet. I'm sorry... I." He released his hold from Ratchet's and let his arm go limp in the medic's own hold, allowing for himself to be dragged wherever. "Sorry. I dunno why I'm so..." Jazz refused to look his friend in the optics, instead sitting down on the berth. It took a lot for him to do that, and his clearly trembling and jerking frame suggested another attempt to flee may have been rising in his subconscious. He couldn't help himself. "I'pologize, Ratch. Somethin's goin' on in my processor. Memory core is all wacked. I dunno if I'm comin' or goin' no more."
By the time Ratchet had realized his mistake, it was already too late. As soon as he had grabbed Jazz's wrist, that's when the saboteur's reflexes kicked in. While it was nice to know that they were as good as ever, this wasn't exactly the way Ratchet would have wanted them to be tested. He winced as Jazz twisted his own hand in order to grab the medics, optics widening as Jazz then proceeded to swing around and prepare to strike. The maneuver would have definitely broken his arm, and he would have had to rely on Pharma or First Aid to repair it.
"Jazz!!" It hadn't been a shout of anger, but a plea to get Jazz to realize what he was doing and hope that he stopped.
Thankfully, the other mech did, and simply held Ratchet's arm.
Ratchet stood there for a moment in silence, startled by the event that had nearly transpired. It had happened far too quickly for him to react, but he also hadn't wanted to bring harm to Jazz in order to protect himself either. The white mech already had enough wounds as it was. Jazz had been the one to break the silence, letting go of Ratchet as he nervously apologized, the medic releasing the other's wrist. His arms fell to his sides, keeping his optics on Jazz as he returned to the berth. One thing he'd noticed was that the saboteur refused to make optic contact. Something that.. felt all too familiar with a previous situation.
The CMO walked over to the berth, placing both hands just below Jazz's shoulders. His grip was gentle, and could easily be broken with the slightest move. "Jazz.. Don't apologize. It was my fault for grabbing you like I did. I never should have tried to pull you back in such a manner. For that.. I'm truly sorry. I'm not upset with you if.. that's what you're worried about."
Ratchet listened carefully as Jazz continued to speak, noting concerns in regards to his memory core. "I'm.. not sure if I'm the most qualified of mechs to be going into your memory core. I'm not a mnemosurgeon, and I absolutely refuse to use a cortical patch. That's against all Autobot code. However.. if you trust me enough, I can see what I can do."
Not knowing just what was going on with himself was annoying, and now it had caused him to lash out at Ratchet. Sure, he was never going to get over his fear over medics, but Ratchet was... different. Ratchet he recognized as his friend- someone he'd known since he knew Orion- but he had reacted to him as he would have to a Decepticon. Ratchet was not his enemy. Ratchet was not just a medic. Though why couldn't he get past that? He trusted him, he did, but something with the flash of unfamiliarity with Ratchet had really thrown him off.
The unease was still there when Ratchet touched his arms and a visible tremble went through his frame. He still didn't look up at him. Part of it was shame, part of it was risking that he wouldn't recognize his friend again if he dared to glance up.
This entire while he had been quiet, which was already unusual for the loudly and rambunctious saboteur. His sensitivity to confinement was really on high now though for the sake of seeming rude he just sat there and permitted the touch until his frame writhed to the point he could no longer take it. Then he raised his servo to meet the medic's own, offering a small pat before finally pushing his servos from him. Jazz knew that Ratchet meant well. He just couldn't take what he saw as confinement from him, even though it was far from it.
"Don't say sorry for me, Ratch. I outta know better. We've known each other long'nuff that I shouldn't be uptight 'round ya." He inhaled then rolled his shoulders some and straightened his back struts. The pede on his good leg was swinging back and forth as he sat on the berth, an early hint that he had been sitting for too long. "And cause I've known ya so long, you're the one I trust ta poke around in my memory core. Ya know the kinda sensitive material I got floatin'round in there," he paused to tap on his helm with a single digit before dropping that servo and continuing, "and I trust that you'll pull back and not go diggin' where ya outta stay out. So lets get all this scrap over with before I change my mind, yeah?"
With that Jazz would lay down, though there was clear hesitation shown through a stiffening of his frame even after he was flat against it. His servos clenched and he stared up at the ceiling for a split klik before the light of his visor went dark, showing that he had completely offlined it just so he didn't have to watch what was going on.
Ratchet kept his grip on Jazz's arms light and gentle, not squeezing them or applying any additional pressure in slight fear that it might send the musical mech over the edge again. His face was soft, filled with concern as he watched the other mech shake, but withdrew as soon as Jazz started to push his arms away. There was no point in stressing him any further than he already had.
"Jazz, I.." The CMO glanced aside, surprised that he had been told not to take the blame for what he had essentially started anyway. Even if Jazz had been the one to act, Ratchet was the one that grabbed him in the first place. That's how he had seen it, anyway. "You're right that we've known each other for so long. Since before the war, since I returned from my studies on Messatine with Strongarm in my care." Strange.. why did he feel like he couldn't remember when he had picked her up and adopted her? He could have sworn that it had been during the Fall of Praxus, but he remembered having her with him during his time on at Delphi as well. Maybe it was the age kicking in a bit.
He smiled softly as Jazz finally agreed to let Ratchet work on him, to fix the injuries and to riffle through his memory core. Nodding, he motioned for the saboteur to lie down on the berth. "I plan on fixing your wounds first, but then I will take a gander at your memory core. If I should happen across anything I shouldn't trespass on.. just know that it wasn't intentional. That I would never do something like that to you on purpose. Either way.. I'll see what I can do for you. For now.. get some rest."
Once Jazz powered down, he immediately got to work. The medic fixed the dents and repaired Jazz's visor, not to mention buffing out some of the blaster marks. He'd be pleased once he came back to that he would be that self proclaimed good looking mech again, but there was one more thing Ratchet needed to do before finishing his work. He needed to look at that memory core.
Opening up the correct place, Ratchet began his work on Jazz's memory core.. praying that he didn't cause any additional harm. Oh, what he would've given to have a mnemosurgeon on board right about now.
I can feel it callin' in the air tonight! Hold ooooon~ Jazz was reaching out for someone. But it wasn't Jazz? Yes it was. Seeing it through his visor which was clearly damaged from a large crack across the center. He was younger, reaching out under some rubble for someone. He was yelling for someone, but there was no sound that could be heard outside of the loud clashes and bangs from the collapsing structures around him. The undergrid.
Take, take, take from me, that's all you ever do. You've taken everything, now I'm taking part of you! There was a strange mech, one that Ratchet wouldn't know. It was a blurry image, as though Jazz were fading out of consciousness of some sort.
It's okay for you to hate me for all the things I've done. I've made a few mistakes, but I'm not the only one. A large black mech stood there, walking away from Jazz. The area was different again, blue and... volcanic. The Undergrid.
Was there any question of how much i could take. You kept feeding me your bulls... hoping I would break. The image of the strange mech from before- the blurred image- came back again. The colors fixed together, putting everything into place. The gold trims and yellow optics hinted that this was a Towerling. A hand went up, holding something that flashed and crackled to life. An electro whip! And it came crashing down onto...
Is there anybody out there, any one who cares. Is there any one listening, will they hear my final prayers? Iacon. The skylight... beautiful, peaceful.... then a flash of something, shaking, a black void. You were born to be my baby. Baby I was made to be your man. There was a view of someone familiar to Ratchet. Prowl, only he was younger as well, showing all the structures and signs of his enforcement unit, and carrying a pair of stasis cuffs. He was making his way forward. Was Jazz under arrest?
We've got somethin' to believe in even if don't know where we stand.
There was movement after Prowl disappeared around him.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most with a crew and good captain well seasoned. This time it was Optimus. He stood just infront of the captain's seat, pointing around and giving orders. The Ark. The ship was shaking and everyone moved around frantically as though trying to make good on what was being told to them. At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said, "Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!" Several mechs were on the ground. Jazz got up from where he had been, turning to face....
You're makin' me hot cherie! I want what you got all over me! A club? Flashing lights, various patrons. Jazz was on a stage, being watched by those around him like a bunch of lions watching prey.
You can take me and throw me away! Jerking movement. Things falling around him. Jazz was thrown across the room and hit the wall hard. The area was dark... though somehow familiar. Heavy pedesteps of an approach, but Jazz's visor was failing.
I can't believe in you any longer! The gladiator pits. Jazz was watching a familiar sight of a mech in the center of the pit, having defeated his opponent. When the large mech turned it was to meet the optics of none other than Megatronus. Slowly he was making his way over....
Standin' in the hall of fame, and the world's gonna know your name. Optimus and Megatron before the council. They were having an argument. A hand was raised towards the new Prime. Jazz started forward... then hesitated. He backed up, as though to go unseen to the council who were before the two.
I've worked way too hard for this but we live in dark places, dark places... Darkness again with that odd purple glow. A ventilation shaft? Maybe, but things were too dark to see for sure.
He's pulling his weapon to his side, loading it full of his goodbyes. A green mech who towered over Jazz. This one was an Autobot by the signia on his arm. He smiled to Jazz though there seemed to be something hidden within it. He turned and walked way. This is the world we live in and these are the hands we're given Megatron again, only it was him walking alongside Orion down the streets of Iacon. Jazz was there, walking at their sides. It seemed like they were...
Use them and lets start trying to make it a place worth living in .... Friends?
I believe we can't lose, even mountains will move. There was darkness again, only this time there were faint sounds heard. Familiar voices.
It's my faith. It's my life. This is our battle cry Someone called out. There was a sound of a heavy door closing. Metal.
They can't take us down if we stand our ground Finally there was light, at least somewhat. Jazz's visor turned on to show what he was hearing. He was in a cell of sorts, alone. There were sounds around him but he couldn't see through the walls to know who was making them.
If we live, if we die. We will shout out... our battlecry... Jazz turned his helm from his spot in the corner...
There stood Megatron. Jazz was on board the Nemesis, locked away in a cell all of his own away from his comrades, stasis cuffs keeping his servos fixed before him and an inhibitor collar around his neck. And that was there the memory core started to flicker, go off, flicker again... and then held.
(OOC: All Megatron posts for this thread take place in Jazz's true timeline, and are part of Jazz's memories that are slowly being overwritten by the Convergence) Megatron stood on the observation deck, smiling to himself with hands folded behind his back. This would be a day for all to remember, and with joyous occasion for the Decepticon cause. Those Autobots really thought they could escape on their little craft? They had been so very wrong.
Many Autobots on the Ark did not survive the battle, but the few who remained were all brought aboard the Nemesis, now captives to be made an example of for the Autobots who chose to stay behind on Cybertron. The war was far from over, but the odds had ever been in the Decepticons' favor this fateful day. Among the prisoners had been an Autobot he once called friend; One who had introduced him to the one that had been previously known as Orion Pax.
And that mech would be Jazz.
When the tyrant had learned that his 'old friend' had been taken prisoner, he had been overjoyed. Not for the reason of shooting the breeze with the Autobot, but simply.. giving him his just desserts for betraying him and joining Optimus Prime instead of the Decepticon cause. The mech would have been a fine Decepticon, but he chose to go the other way.. without Megatron ever knowing until it was too late.
He left many of their new prisoners to the others, but Jazz? He'd take care of him himself. Smirking to no one but himself, he headed for the brig, the poor Autobot saboteur having no idea what was coming his way.
Upon entering his holding cell, he watched as Jazz began to stir, restrained with no easy means of escape. Only then did he choose to break his silence. "I trust that you are.. comfortable? I made the finest arrangements just for you after all.. Jazz." The way the Autobot's name slipped past his lips had made things seem that much more sickening. He flashed a grin Jazz's way, not once moving.
"Did you and the others truly believe that Optimus Prime would lead you to victory? He has only lead to your demise."
"Yo, Megs! Megatron. Megatronus. 'All Powerful Lord And Master'.... what is it that ya go by these days? I can't really remember. Can't tell if that's cause I'm gettin' older or cause ya just keep changin' your mind." Jazz got to his pedes and looked right at Megatron. He had never been one to back down from anything, which was certainly true even now as he faced the Warlord. There was the clear size difference and the binding that should have been motivation for Jazz to hold his tongue though that just wouldn't be Jazz, and very little would ever still him.
The saboteur started to pace around the cell, moving slowly and not taking his gaze off Megatron. He had learned before that you never turn your back on a Decepticon... because of Megatron himself. So he wouldn't let the source of his rule to be out of sight. Not even for a moment.
"Comfortable? Hardly. Gonna assume you're tryin' to joke and it ain't funny." Jazz huffed, sounding quite displeased with the question. Only the next line of response would probably not be what Megatron was expecting. Or, if he recalled just how Jazz was? He may have. "For one? The accommodations are terrible. Your lackeys tossed all'a us'round like we were ol' scrap. Two? Not only is the temperature low enough to freeze us after'while, but it's also depressin'ly dark. I mean, I get that we were low on supplies an' all, but really? Ya could replace the bulbs or somethin'. And change the color scheme; brighten it up some."
Jazz stopped pacing an looked directly at Megatron, not smirking. He still had that disgusted look about him, but not because he had been caught. He was just playing off his sarcastic response to Megatron's question. "This ain't a way to treat guests and if ya expected us to tell others to vacation here? Forget it! Definitely ain't puttin' this on the 'five places ya gotta see before ya die' list."
At the mention of his inability to choose a single name for himself and stick to it, Megatron's optics narrowed at the Autobot. An insult if he'd heard one, that was for certain. He didn't bother to dignify Jazz with a response as the other mech got to his peds, not once taking his optics off of him. Nothing this mech was going to say would phase him, and would only serve to anger the tyrant the more the attempted to do so.
Naturally, he could only complain with his new living arrangements, grating at the warlord's nerves that much further. He stepped closer to Jazz, optics locked on blue ones.
"You would be wise to not complain given the circumstances. I could have easily had my troops dismantle you like the others, but I have so graciously given this chance to live another day.. and you would do well to accept such a generous offer."
Reaching forward, the large mech grabbed Jazz, yanking him closer.
"And if you toss aside such a generous offer.. I will personally see to it that you regret the moment you so chose the Autobot path and strayed from what could have rightfully been yours!" With that, he threw Jazz aside, glaring at the mech, not even caring if the other was in any pain or not. Sometimes you had to play rough to get the things that you wanted, but he'd break Jazz if that's what it took. No one dared to defy him, and that he made sure of with his troops on a regular basis. Megatron walked around, never once removing his gaze on the Autobot as his temper began to flair.
"You could have made a fine Decepticon. You could have been one of my highest ranking warriors, but instead who do you choose? The Prime!"
There was no denying that Jazz was the last to back down from anyone, even Megatron. He knew what the Warlord could do to him, especially considering the situation he found himself in, but there was still that determination that he showed time and time again on the battlefield. So as Megatron approached him and stared him down? Jazz simply maintained optic contact, standing there with no sign of fear or... really anything at all. He probably figured that if Megatron wanted to offline him he could at any moment, but he didn't count the tyrant out of toying with him a little first.
Seemed Jazz was right after the statement he heard. So fine, Jazz would play ball.
After being yanked up, Jazz did his best to keep at least the top of his pedes to the floor. Anticipating the throw that followed thereafter, he braced himself the best he could with a much more managed stumble to gain his footing, needing to do so since he couldn't move his servos but so much to keep himself from landing on his faceplate. Instead he fumbled with his footing and still hit the floor though no where near as hard as he could have had he not been prepared. The smaller mech did skid across the metal floor something awful as well, which would leave a nice line of paint scuff on his arm, side and hip. When he looked back up it was to watch Megatron pacing around him like a predator stalking its prey.
"One of your highest rankin' warriors? Lil' ol' me? Aw, Megs." A small chuckle came from the saboteur as he- once again- got himself to his pedes. This time was a little harder than the first but he still did so and straightened himself up to watch Megatron as he walked around. Though he didn't shift his stance, he did move his helm to always keep Megatron within his sight. "While it may have been a temptin' offer back then? Seein' now who I'd have to work with? I think m'choice was sound. I'mean... ya did put Starscream in your 'high rank' category- not too bright if ya ask me. I know I've see him ruin a few of your plans in the past, and I don't think jus' bein' a former Air Commander really qualifies as bein' 'useful'. That is, o'course, unless you're usin' him to suit your needs... just like ya use everyone else."
Once more he had that defiant little smile on his face. Even in the face of danger he could always beam that smile if just to piss off his opponents. In this case? He just wanted to irritate Megatron as much as he could. He figured he would be offlined eventually, so why not put his circuits in a knot in the meanwhile?
"Ya see, Megatron..." he 'tsked lightly and shrugged. "I never did well with that whole 'rulin' with an iron fist' thing. I wasn't really up for followin' another tyrant after we'd just overthrown the original ones."
The mere questioning of Starscream was enough to make the tyrant twitch. It had been a question he'd asked himself many a time, but even still he kept the questionable seeker on board as one of his highest ranking officers. His 'second' if he had to give him a title, though that he would honestly prefer to give to Shockwave that title, but after his sudden disappearance.. it was not to be.
Which left him with Starscream. As questionable his motives could be, his ability to take charge and give strategic advice was essential.
"You dare question my leadership? You are but a simple guest on this ship! You have no right to dictate how I should and should not use my troops. However.. had you accepted my offer to join me, perhaps you would have had a chance.. but you will regret the decision you have made. This I can promise you, Jazz."
While Megatron wasn't certain as to what Jazz was playing at, he did know one thing. The longer the Autobot continued, the angrier Megatron became. Clearly he had a death wish. While it had been tempting to offline him right then and there, a darker and more fun idea came to mind. It wouldn't be as fun if Jazz were to be offlined right this moment. Why not keep him around a bit, see how long it takes for him to see the error of his ways. Just how long could he withstand until that smirk was completely wiped off his faceplates?
With that in mind, Megatron threw a punch directly at the other mech, scowling as he looked down at him.
"You forget your place. You cannot fight with those stasis cuffs. You cannot transform with that inhibitor collar. You are completely at my mercy, and I will remind you of that in every way imaginable."
@jazz
Shoutbox
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altria : please dont be dead?
Jun 14, 2023 22:40:34 GMT
Partia: Is this still alive?
Dec 17, 2022 6:02:02 GMT
Partia: Is this still alive?
Dec 17, 2022 6:01:34 GMT
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