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Prowl knows that Jazz is not cybertronian, however without the understanding of the rest of the species there are no conclusions his Tacnet can settle on. Percentages only work when at least 50% of the variables are known.
Prowl does not know enough about jazz.
Prowl knows a lot about jazz.
Jazz was modified to fight the quints (93% +/- 5% Jazz said it himself)
Jazz loves music (98%)
Jazz enjoys Prowls company (74%, seeks Prowl out commonly to simply "hang out" on 86% of all breaks)
Jazz is not loyal to the Autobots (95%, did not know about the war and has stated he is using the bots to find his planet)
Jazz is loyal to Prowl (1% or 80%, Jazz has stated loyalty to Prowl on battlefield and follows orders with no question, Jazz tried to access Prowls spark during a moment of weakness)
Jazz did not know what a spark is until after he attempted to get into Prowls (1% or 92%, upon being told what he had attempted preceded to spend next 12 cycles writing a formal apology with a gift, when presenting the gift. kneeled)
... Jazz has been fatally injured and lived. (87% +/-1%, proof is in the following report {copies in existence 1})
Jazz had made a request, a formal one via written comm that had clear signs of being rewritten multiple times.
:could I stay in your office during today?:
Prowl intended to say no.
:yes, however if you are a disturbance I will have to remove you:
:deal:
Without a time stamp Prowl awaited the knock at the door to his office. 7.4 breams later a tap barely audible over the whir of fans, unusual Jazz's knocks were usually loud enough to be heard over multiple voices and routinely left prowl questioning how he did not leave dents. A tactic to not disturb prowl as much? (76%)
Sending a command to open the door Prowl paused when the corner of his optic caught sight of Jazz. With no EM field to speak of most considered Jazz hard to read, however prowl knew it was easy. The bot had a tendency to bounce and droop depending on mood, and the length of his audials made it easy to tell.
Jazz was drooped, he moved slower than any record (including when right out of recharge), and the extendable claws on his servos were half out (injury? 45%, no recent battles and Jazz had been coerced into the med bay after the last one, but Prowl has seen him use his claws to stabilize things when moving stock as was his job within the Ark)
Jazz's steps seemed. Heavier? (13%, unlikely since he had no subspaces nor anything similar, but he did have some method of internal storage) Jazz reached the small couch Bluestreak had insisted on giving prowl months ago. Jazz seemingly lacked the control his movements usually portrayed, and seemingly collapsed onto the couch. After 6.3 ticks a large amount of air cycled through his vents before slowing down drastically from his usual fan speed.
Prowl wasn’t sure how to handle the silence, Jazz usually filled the air with sound and motion at every (78%, of all) chances. Prowl turned back to his work, the repetitive nature of analysing old battle reports and cataloguing battle tactics taking over not enough of his processor.
Jazz moved, the motion slow and near silent. Prowls doorwings twitched in the silence, Jazz stops moving and Prowl can feel the depth of his stare. Jazz sits up slowly, servos in between his legs claws fully extended, hunched over the glow of his visor lights up the datapads left on the lower table.
Prowl does not know what to do, something was happening with Jazz, but Prowl was in no way knowledgeable to handle it.
Silence reigned; Prowl turned his processor back to the datapads. They seemed unfulfilling compared to the puzzle that sat to his right, but still he deciphered the contents. Lost in the rhythm of data conversion Prowl nearly missed the click, loud within the silence but quiet within the storm of data.
Distracted, Prowl turned his head, calculations on how to tell Jazz kindly to leave died before they could finish.
Jazz was still hunched over, his claws still extended had moved to brace against the table in front of him. Likely to counterbalance the giant wings on his back.
They loomed over his back, until the overhead light lit up the back so bright the black looked white. His gleaming paint was swathed in darkness, the harsh blue of his visor only lighting up the bottom of his face and claws.
Prowl turned in his seat, doorwings flared out to match.
Jazz was not still, micro tremors ran from his wings and spread out the rest of his body. Where his back normally had a large section of extra armour previously thought to be extra armour for his spark, was now transformed out. The exterior armour was pressed flat to his sides while what was clearly the rest of it sat as wings.
From what was visible in the low light lacked the dark grey paint that previously covered his plating, swirls of wind and water arced across the plating. On top of the colours were what looked like transformation seams in his plating connecting four pointed stars in what appeared to be carefully placed formations. (percentage unavailable)
Jazz looked up and his helm snapped to look Prowl dead in the optic, the brightness of his visor (90% optic) burned into Prowls optics as Jazz shook.
Prowl does not know what to do… but he can try (99% +/-1%).
Prowl moves from his chair, slow with clear intentions. Jazz shakes harder, venting in chunks (89% chance of injury)
Prowl stops outside of contact range; Jazz’s longer limbs could reach but Prowl’s would fall short.
Jazz stills, no change in his visors light output.
Jazz’s hand unclenches from the table; the claws have not damaged it.
Prowl reaches out, Jazz entwines their servos even as the shakes return.
Jazz moves like lighting. Prowl has no time to react, Jazz is standing and before his optics can process it 2 arms wrap around his and a helm is resting on his shoulder. Frozen as his processor catches up, Prowl gently wraps his arms around Jazz.
A line of his processor runs in the background, calculating the speed and motion. Something settles in his spark as Jazz shakes into him, Prowl could not see Jazz move, Jazz could have sent any one of his many weapons (98% that Jazz has more weapons than he has shown) straight into Prowls spark before his weapon systems could even online.
Jazz did not stab Prowl; Jazz is shaking apart in Prowls arms.
Prowl tightens his hold on Jazz, it is still difficult due to the shaping of Jazz’s plating (97% a modification, Prowl stops the calculation of if it was done with anesthesia or not before it can resolve)
Jazz does not move, his legs in all their multi jointed glory are finally still. Jazz’s servos do not touch Prowls doorwings, clenched on his back beneath them he can scan them with startling clarity. The claw tips are made of an obsidian steel alloy, one move and both doorwings could be severed from his frame cleanly.
Prowl clutches the space beneath Jazz’s wings tighter, Jazz is shaking less.
With nothing to do but run through previous situations and analyse the current situation Prowl’s optics rove over the large wings, thick struts are connected to each other by massive hydraulic pistons. In-between the struts paneling is thicker than a seekers wings but thinner than most doorwings, in the centre of Jazz’s back four thrusters sit. two larger ones that bracket his major spinal strut and two smaller ones sit outside those angled, so their fire points out.
Is it unlikely that these would hold up under the strain traditional cybertronian flight would cause, the connection points seem weaker than Prowls own, and the shape is wrong for cutting through the air.
The shaking is continuing to slow.
Prowls eyes continue in their wandering, roaming across the edges of the wings and down Jazz’s odd spinal strut now visible. Each piece is segmented and seemingly held together by long cables.
Prowls eyes roam up and onto Jazz’s shoulder which appear thinner, likely (87%) due to some of the material being moved to accommodate the wings. Closer to the neck Prowl notices a discrepancy, the lovingly laid paint patterns are cut across with jagged welds. They encircle the back of Jazz’s neck, and its clear now that more of the metal from his wings came from around his neck. The welds are splotchy, definitely not made by a medic and would likely need to be fixed if he wanted to move without pain. The welds appeared as if made by someone half blind and drunk.
Leaning back just a tad to follow the shaky welds, Jazz’s shaking gets worse. A glint nestled in Jazz’s neck shows exactly why, tucked behind the thicker plating sits an auxiliary optic, or as close as can be. The optic can’t move but theres a light within it, and Prowl watches with his plating drawn as tight as possible as it moves to trace along the welds Prowl was eyeing ticks before.
The plating around Jazz’s neck is wrong, warped and bent in places that look painful. Prowl pulls back by millimetres. The welds encircle Jazz’s neck and in some places they look too hot, like whatever was used to fix it wasn’t meant to be a welder. Jazz tracks Prowl with his visor, theres no optics behind it. The inner wires of his neck seem melted to the plating in some places, all of them have marks of being weld back together at the same height.
Jazz’s servo, the one that entwined with Prowls breems ago lifts until the wrist is in line with the welds. A click rings out as a small port like panel opens and slides to the side, a scraping sound that makes Prowl cringe comes from it along with the whisper of pressurized gas from within the port.
Sparks fling from the port as the gas ignites, the flame pushes out once with too much heat, a warm spot against Jazz’s neck plating before it settles into a consistent blue. A small combat torch meant to make attackers back off or to ignite external incendiaries.
Jazz’s helm twitches up, until the centre of his visor optic is in line with Prowls.
The flame sends closer to Jazz’s neck, the size of the flame matches the welds.
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Jazz has been fatally injured and lived (100%)