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“Well, we successfully executed half the mission. Now what?” Mirage ducked down behind the console with Jazz and the recently liberated Lieutenant Prowl.
“Thought we’d blow this joint and go home.” Jazz lifted his head just enough to get a trajectory and then tossed a grenade toward the Decepticons shooting at them before dropping back down. He grinned as it detonated and the shooting stopped.
Lieutenant Prowl glared in response, but he didn’t move until the two black operatives stood back up up. “Is this how all your missions go?”
“No,” Mirage pressed a pistol into the Praxian’s hand before moving toward the bodies of the Decepticons. “Sometimes they’re much worse.”
“Yep. There’s a reason Blacklight used to go through agents the same way Kup goes through Wreckers.” Jazz gestured for Prowl to follow him as Mirage made sure the Deceptions were truly deactivated. “Stay quiet once we’re back in the hallways. Ain’t no way Soundwave doesn't know we’re here, but that explosion will have wrecked enough of his sensors to get about halfway through the base before he can pinpoint us again as long as we don’t draw extra attention.”
“Perhaps less.” Mirage stabbed one of the Decepticons through the spark. The mech thrashed for a moment before going still and beginning to fade. “That one was still transmitting.”
“Frag. all right, stay quiet, and if I say run you run like Unicron himself is coming for you, copy?”
“Copy,” Mirage replied. Prowl simply nodded.
“All right. Here we go then.” Jazz stepped past the bodies and into the hallway. He glanced up and down the empty corridor before gesturing for the others to follow. Prowl and Mirage stepped out behind him.
The distinctive vworp of a teleport filled the hall a klik later.
Jazz just had time to make out the black and purple form of Skywarp, the Air Commander’s new Trinemate. Then the mech was punching forward and Jazz’s face erupted in blinding pain and falling glass. Error messages stacked up in his processor, but his world went dark and he couldn’t read them.
“Run!” He choked out as Skywarp grabbed him by the throat.
“I think not.” Prowl’s voice was cold, his command voice, and Jazz almost wished he could see his face to have some hint of what the Praxian was thinking. Then he heard the soft rapport of a pistol firing twice.
Heated plasma flew past him, blistering his paint, and slammed into Skywarp. The Seeker cried out and dropped him. The pistol fired again as he landed in a heap on the floor, and then Skywarp clattered to the ground next to him.
A moment later, gentle hands were cradling his face and turning his head toward someone else. Mirage’s voice sounded pained as he spoke, “Primus, Jazz, your optics!”
“How bad is it?” Jazz asked softly.
“Your visor is completely destroyed,” Prowl replied. A moment later, a third hand was tipping his chin up slightly. “And your optics appear to be permanently damaged. I did not believe Skywarp hit you this hard.”
“He didn’t. I came online with non-functioning optics. My visor’s always been my optics, since i was about two.” Jazz sighed. “You two get out of here. I’ll buy you some time.”
“Absolutely not.” Prowl moved his hand away from his chin. Then it was wrapping around his elbow a moment later. “We all get out of here, or none of us do. No mech left behind, remember?”
Jazz laughed once and let the Praxian pull him out of Mirage’s grasp and onto his feet. “Hell of a time for you to remember that.”
“Well. Your dedication to your team has left a mark on all of High Commmand.” Prowl shifted for a moment and he head the pistol fire again. A moment later another body clattered to the floor. “Trust me to guide you safely?”
“Every day,” Jazz replied.
“Thank you.” Prowl shifted again, this time turning so that Jazz could move his hand to the Praxian’s arm for better guidance. “We must run, but I will not leave you behind.”
“I trust you,” Jazz affirmed.
“This is really quite endearing to watch,” Mirage interrupted, his higher power rifle firing a klik later, “But we absolutely must be going.”
“Yes. Lead the way, Mirage. Jazz and I will follow.”
Jazz tightened his grip on Prowl’s arm, and when the Praxian ran, he followed.
-_-_-_-
“How did you manage this again?” Ratchet’s voice was disbelieving as he pulled another glass shard out of Jazz’s face.
“Ow, frag, Ratch! I told you, Skywarp teleported in front of me and punched me before I could move. S’not my fault he’s built for a brawl instead of a shoot out.” Jazz did his best not to flinch at the sting, but it was hard when he couldn’t even see the medic’s hands coming.
“You cannot blame Jazz.” Prowl’s voice was a welcome relief. If anyone could head off a Ratchet scolding, it would be their tactical second. “His mission brief did not include the possibility of Skywarp being in the facility, nor could he have dodged the punch. I barely had time to realize what had happened before his visor was broken.”
“Who let you out of observation?” Ratchet asked in reply. “I know your processor scans can’t be finished.”
“Hoist, and they finished two groons ago.” Prowl sounded smug. “The Decepticons did not have time to do more than threaten me before Jazz and Mirage liberated me.”
“Fine, you’re done. Report to Optimus already, then, and let me work.”
“Optimus has instructed me to wait and offer my assistance to Jazz once you have finished, as we are both aware that you will likely have to fabricate an entirely new visor for him.”
“Oh he did, did he?” Jazz hissed as Ratchet pulled another shard out of his face. “Should I be expecting Mirage to come in and get in the way, too?”
“No, I believe Jazz requires only a single escort back to his quarters.”
“Give me a stick and I can probably find my way there on my own,” Jazz broke in.
“Guide cane or not, I don’t want you wandering the halls alone right now.” Ratchet set down his tweezers with a soft click and picked something else up, though Jazz couldn’t tell what. “A lot happened while you three were gone.”
“Which is why Optimus asked me to escort you when I checked in.” Prowl sighed. “I will brief you in full once we are in a more secure location, but there was an assault on the base while you were extracting me from the Decepticon prison.”
“Frag.” Jazz resisted the urge to rub his face in frustration.
“It wasn’t pretty,” Ratchet said softly. “Hold still, this will sting.”
“Okay.” Jazz braced himself. The medic sprayed something over his faceplates, probably an antiseptic, and for a moment it felt like a nice cool mist. Then all of his cuts started to burn as the spray did what it was supposed to. “Ow, frag! Sting is an understatement, mech!”
“Well, then don’t get lacerated in twelve places next time.”
“Ain’t like I planned it, Ratch!”
“I’ve heard that before.” Ratchet picked up his hand and put a tube in it. “Put that on your cuts ever six joors or so. Don’t get it in your mouth, and try to keep it out of your optic sockets. It won’t hurt your optics, but it’ll gum up all the gears around them and I’ll have to take your face apart to clean it out.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass on that one. Thanks, Ratch.” Jazz grinned, even though it made his cuts hurt more. “Am I free then?”
“You’re free. Get a ration and get at least one full recharge cycle before going back on duty. Light duty only.”
“No worries there,” Jazz replied. “Couldn’t get up to half my usual shenanigans right now anyway.”
“I will put him on training duty if necessary,” Prowl said dryly. “He does not need to be able to see in order to administer written tests.”
“That’s cold and cruel, Prowl. I can’t believe you’d threaten me like that after I broke you out of prison.”
Ratchet made an irritated noise. “Both of you, out! I don’t want to see either of you before I’ve got a new visor ready.”
“Yessir!” Jazz replied, sliding down from his stool.
“Yes, Ratchet,” Prowl replied. A moment later, he was taking Jazz’s hand and guiding it to his arm.
“Hey, uh.” Jazz cycled his vents as Prowl began leading him to the door. “I don’t think I ever said thanks. For not leaving me behind. Us ops mechs are always prepared to go out taking as many Cons with us as we can, but I didn’t exactly want to.”
“Nor did I want you to.” Prowl reached up with his free hand and rested it over Jazz’s for a moment. “You are most welcome.”