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Entry tags:
- dark,
- fanfic,
- jazz,
- mind fuckery,
- nc17,
- optimus,
- ratchet,
- wake up call
Fic: Wake up Call - Ch 2
Title: Wake up Call - Ch 2
Universe: G1
Characters: Jazz
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Death, Mutilation, Mind fuckery, Dark fic, references to interfacing, language.
Disclaimer: I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.
Chapter 1
Mild chapter.
Chapter 2
Ratchet sat in his office in the medbay, fingers steepled in front of his face as he ran through the limited information he had gathered.
It didn’t seem to make any sense. The dead mecha could only be connected by the flimsiest of reasons and Ratchet was sure he was missing some connection, something that they had overlooked that could connect the ever growing pile of bodies in his morgue.
But as he wracked his processor and picked apart the data strand by strand he could find nothing.
Nothing that even hinted at why they kept appearing on the Ark’s doorstep. Nothing that hinted to the reasoning behind the removal of their penetrative interface equipment.
Nothing.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Ark was running on panic mode when the next dead mech was discovered. For all their precautions it seemed that nothing was able to stop the killer and most mecha were neurotic messes that were constantly looking over their shoulders and standing close enough to share plating with as many others as they could manage.
It was disheartening to say the least. Most of these mecha had lived on the Ark for centuries and to see the level of distrust and terror now present literally hurt Optimus.
For a mech who lived on the trust of his men for loyalty, this was one of the worst possible situations he could have found himself in. If he hadn’t already known that Megatron was also losing soldiers, though the other leader seemed much less worried about his soldiers then punishing the mech responsible for undermining his authority, he would have chalked this up as a ‘Decepticon Special’.
As it was, he was fully aware that the terror his crew felt would eventually manifest itself in some kind of mutiny. There were his most loyal, his commanders and a select number of soldiers that he knew would not falter, and then there were the unfortunate ‘fillers’ that he was sure would break sooner rather than later.
It was now a matter of time. They were no closer to catching who, or what, was doing this and so far there hadn’t been a single clue to point them in any direction.
Optimus rested his helm in his battle worn hands. Physical enemies he could deal with, he could fight no problem. This not knowing was what was defeating them and he didn’t have any idea on how to counteract psychological enemies.
As Prime, he was afraid of many things.
In this, he was just as terrified as his crew.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jazz sat in the monitor room, supervising his shift as an officer, and rubbed his sensory horns lightly.
He had run through all the comm frequencies he remembered in an attempt to figure out who had contacted him that night but had yet to come across a match.
That disconcerted him more than the screams had, he was special ops after all.
The idea that he couldn’t identify either voice OR the comm frequency had been grating on his nerves. The original line had been open far too little time, in addition to startling him from recharge, for his sensors to ping a location even as quick as they were.
He only had the vaguest feeling that the one voice had sounded familiar. Screams were hard enough to distinguish, after a while they all sounded the same, but that second voice in the background…
Jazz shook his helm. Brooding was getting him nowhere and he had a duty as an officer to pay attention to the terrified mecha on his shift.
So he forcibly turned his attention back to the tightened plating of his friends as they alternated between spurts of fierce anger and mild hysteria.
*~*~*~~*~*~*
Jazz walked in to the medbay, optics tracking automatically each movement as he casually leaned against the doorframe to Ratchet’s office. Knocking politely, he watched the subdued bustle around him until the haggard looking medic stumbled out and jerked his head toward the back room.
They moved inside and quickly shut the door against prying eyes, Ratchet moving to uncover the latest victim.
This had become an unfortunate routine for the both of them. A new dead mech would appear, Ratchet would call Jazz down to see if the Ops Commander could see anything that he’d missed and Jazz would alternately feel rage and admiration for the one responsible.
It was a tedious cycle that had yet to end or produce any relevant information.
“Wish we could find something out here Jazz. I’ve never seen the crew so touchy.”
Jazz dipped one shoulder in a mock shrug. There wasn’t anything they could do that they weren’t doing. Even with his agents on high alert, who or whatever was doing this was good.
“Dunno what else we can do Ratch. Mah agents’ve scoured the place and come up empty. Only thing we know is that they’re good.”
Ratchet snorted and uncovered the body with a flick of the fingers to see Jazz’s body stiffen in surprise.
“Jazz?”
“Ah know ‘im.”
Ratchet glanced back at the mech before eagerly moving to the spy’s side.
“Ah used to… work for ‘im back on Cybertron. Before the war.”
This Jazz was strangely subdued, something Ratchet was unaccustomed to seeing, and it was more than disconcerting.
“Is he connected to the others in any way? This is the first break we’ve gotten Jazz, there has to be some connection!”
Ratchet threw off the covers from the other frames, as if hoping the visual stimulus would jar Jazz into another revelation.
Jazz, for his part, looked at each of the many bodies carefully before turning back to the newest one. The lost look on his face at odds with his normal expression and Ratchet’s good humor quickly vanished.
“Ah… Ah don’t know.”
Jazz whipped around and plunged out the door, leaving Ratchet nearly gaping at his exit before he narrowed his optics.
Jazz had lied. Something connected these mecha and Ratchet would stop at nothing to find out what it was.
~*~*~*~~**~~*~
The mech hidden in the shadows turned thoughtful eyes toward the retreating Saboteur, already knowing where he was headed. It seemed his little plan was coming along nicely.
Soon, he comforted himself. Soon he would reveal another piece to the puzzle and punish those responsible for his current misery.
“It’s not my fault… you all deserve what is coming now.”
A slender finger came up to his own mouth and he made a shushing noise in the dark.
“Don’t say a word.”
Chapter 3
Universe: G1
Characters: Jazz
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Death, Mutilation, Mind fuckery, Dark fic, references to interfacing, language.
Disclaimer: I claim nothing but my own poor writing and ideas.
Chapter 1
Mild chapter.
Chapter 2
Ratchet sat in his office in the medbay, fingers steepled in front of his face as he ran through the limited information he had gathered.
It didn’t seem to make any sense. The dead mecha could only be connected by the flimsiest of reasons and Ratchet was sure he was missing some connection, something that they had overlooked that could connect the ever growing pile of bodies in his morgue.
But as he wracked his processor and picked apart the data strand by strand he could find nothing.
Nothing that even hinted at why they kept appearing on the Ark’s doorstep. Nothing that hinted to the reasoning behind the removal of their penetrative interface equipment.
Nothing.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Ark was running on panic mode when the next dead mech was discovered. For all their precautions it seemed that nothing was able to stop the killer and most mecha were neurotic messes that were constantly looking over their shoulders and standing close enough to share plating with as many others as they could manage.
It was disheartening to say the least. Most of these mecha had lived on the Ark for centuries and to see the level of distrust and terror now present literally hurt Optimus.
For a mech who lived on the trust of his men for loyalty, this was one of the worst possible situations he could have found himself in. If he hadn’t already known that Megatron was also losing soldiers, though the other leader seemed much less worried about his soldiers then punishing the mech responsible for undermining his authority, he would have chalked this up as a ‘Decepticon Special’.
As it was, he was fully aware that the terror his crew felt would eventually manifest itself in some kind of mutiny. There were his most loyal, his commanders and a select number of soldiers that he knew would not falter, and then there were the unfortunate ‘fillers’ that he was sure would break sooner rather than later.
It was now a matter of time. They were no closer to catching who, or what, was doing this and so far there hadn’t been a single clue to point them in any direction.
Optimus rested his helm in his battle worn hands. Physical enemies he could deal with, he could fight no problem. This not knowing was what was defeating them and he didn’t have any idea on how to counteract psychological enemies.
As Prime, he was afraid of many things.
In this, he was just as terrified as his crew.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jazz sat in the monitor room, supervising his shift as an officer, and rubbed his sensory horns lightly.
He had run through all the comm frequencies he remembered in an attempt to figure out who had contacted him that night but had yet to come across a match.
That disconcerted him more than the screams had, he was special ops after all.
The idea that he couldn’t identify either voice OR the comm frequency had been grating on his nerves. The original line had been open far too little time, in addition to startling him from recharge, for his sensors to ping a location even as quick as they were.
He only had the vaguest feeling that the one voice had sounded familiar. Screams were hard enough to distinguish, after a while they all sounded the same, but that second voice in the background…
Jazz shook his helm. Brooding was getting him nowhere and he had a duty as an officer to pay attention to the terrified mecha on his shift.
So he forcibly turned his attention back to the tightened plating of his friends as they alternated between spurts of fierce anger and mild hysteria.
*~*~*~~*~*~*
Jazz walked in to the medbay, optics tracking automatically each movement as he casually leaned against the doorframe to Ratchet’s office. Knocking politely, he watched the subdued bustle around him until the haggard looking medic stumbled out and jerked his head toward the back room.
They moved inside and quickly shut the door against prying eyes, Ratchet moving to uncover the latest victim.
This had become an unfortunate routine for the both of them. A new dead mech would appear, Ratchet would call Jazz down to see if the Ops Commander could see anything that he’d missed and Jazz would alternately feel rage and admiration for the one responsible.
It was a tedious cycle that had yet to end or produce any relevant information.
“Wish we could find something out here Jazz. I’ve never seen the crew so touchy.”
Jazz dipped one shoulder in a mock shrug. There wasn’t anything they could do that they weren’t doing. Even with his agents on high alert, who or whatever was doing this was good.
“Dunno what else we can do Ratch. Mah agents’ve scoured the place and come up empty. Only thing we know is that they’re good.”
Ratchet snorted and uncovered the body with a flick of the fingers to see Jazz’s body stiffen in surprise.
“Jazz?”
“Ah know ‘im.”
Ratchet glanced back at the mech before eagerly moving to the spy’s side.
“Ah used to… work for ‘im back on Cybertron. Before the war.”
This Jazz was strangely subdued, something Ratchet was unaccustomed to seeing, and it was more than disconcerting.
“Is he connected to the others in any way? This is the first break we’ve gotten Jazz, there has to be some connection!”
Ratchet threw off the covers from the other frames, as if hoping the visual stimulus would jar Jazz into another revelation.
Jazz, for his part, looked at each of the many bodies carefully before turning back to the newest one. The lost look on his face at odds with his normal expression and Ratchet’s good humor quickly vanished.
“Ah… Ah don’t know.”
Jazz whipped around and plunged out the door, leaving Ratchet nearly gaping at his exit before he narrowed his optics.
Jazz had lied. Something connected these mecha and Ratchet would stop at nothing to find out what it was.
~*~*~*~~**~~*~
The mech hidden in the shadows turned thoughtful eyes toward the retreating Saboteur, already knowing where he was headed. It seemed his little plan was coming along nicely.
Soon, he comforted himself. Soon he would reveal another piece to the puzzle and punish those responsible for his current misery.
“It’s not my fault… you all deserve what is coming now.”
A slender finger came up to his own mouth and he made a shushing noise in the dark.
“Don’t say a word.”
Chapter 3