Chapter Text
Mecha filtered out of the new safehouse in ones and twos over the course of a joor, some by the door, some by the window. Soundwave was the last to go, and stopped to loom ominously over Jazz.
"Stay."
Jazz didn't bother responding, and shut the door in his face. Creepy fragger. He sighed. "Just you and me now, bitlet. This'll be quite the adventure."
Springer didn't respond, just stared at Jazz and sucked on his servo. As usual.
The Society's hastily-pooled knowledge on sparklings wasn't particularly comprehensive, but they'd managed to identify pretty much every one of the little mech's behaviors as "extremely worrying". He barely talked, stayed exactly where he was put, and didn't cry at all. Not when he was hungry, not when he was tired, not even when Ambulon had taken an energon sample.
Of course, it would have been weirder if the sparkling they'd found being smuggled as cargo was in any way well-adjusted. Really, he should have been getting around-the-clock care from specialists. But until the Society figured out exactly what kind of Pit Springer had already been through and introduced his previous caretakers to Primus, there was nothing to be done but lay low and keep him off the radar.
Jazz would have greatly preferred being on the info-gathering team instead of the bitlet-sitting team, but until his new arm integrated properly he wouldn't be much help. At least, that was what Soundwave had said.
Soundwave was a vindictive fragger, and he'd known the best way to make Jazz suffer was to stick him in a safehouse with a project that couldn't be ignored.
It was a nice safehouse, at least. A ground-floor apartment in a mid-income residence block, the sort of place a mech living off a mentorship stipend could plausibly live in. They'd stripped the interior to the struts and filled the walls with military-grade defenses and surveillance, then gone a little crazy filling the rooms with things for Springer. He seemed intimidated by the sheer volume of toys.
"Wanna watch a holofilm?"
Springer didn't respond, but he'd stopped stacking blocks a while ago, so he was probably bored. Jazz picked him up and plopped the sparkling on the couch, then settled in next to him.
"I'm gonna be your mentor now, buddy. You need something, you come to me, okay?"
Springer still didn't respond, but Jazz hadn't really been expecting him to. He sighed, patted the bitty on the head, and started flicking through the entertainment suite for sparkling channels.
Over the next few orns, Jazz's list of "concerning sparkling behaviors" got longer and longer. Springer would hide from him under furniture or in closets. He knew not to touch Jazz's weapons. He had to be physically handed a toy before he'd start playing with it.
Worst of all, sometimes he would get spooked at nothing at all and try to escape the apartment. Often during the recharge cycle. Jazz had started recharging on the floor outside Springer's room so he could stop him.
It was like dealing with a very tiny agent. Jazz himself had occasionally needed other Society members to stop him from bolting after a bad job, but seeing it from a sparkling was unpleasant.
Still, there wasn't much to be done about it except keep trying to raise him, so Jazz pushed through. Two orns after he'd been left alone on mentorship duty, Jazz took Springer with him to run some errands.
"We're gonna hold servos the whole time, okay? Praxus is a big city, I don't want to get lost." Springer nodded and grabbed onto Jazz's non-integrated arm. He could only hold one of the fingers, but clenched on like a vice.
The safehouse was at the end of a long hall of outwardly similar apartments. It was easiest to leave by the back exit into a narrow service alley, or just skip the hallway entirely and go out the window, but Jazz walked Springer all the way along the main hall to the lobby so they could go out through the main entrance. Perfectly normal mentor and sparkling right here, honest!
The receptionist cooed at Springer as they passed his desk. "Hi there, sweetspark. Would you like a goodie?" He held out the dish of brightly-colored energon capsules on the desk. Springer sucked his servo and stared.
"He's shy." Jazz flashed a grin and took two, giving one to Springer and popping the other into his own intake. "Can you say 'thank you'?"
Springer made a small clicking noise around the goodie. Close enough.
The receptionist smiled sympathetically. "Six quartex?"
It took Jazz a klick to figure out what he meant. "Uh, no. Just a vorn. He's big for his age."
"Hm, you've got your hands full." The receptionist turned back to Springer. "Have a nice time out. Be good for your mentor!"
Jazz threw out a quick goodbye and led Springer away. Would everyone be like that now that he had a sparkling in tow?
As it turned out, yes. Jazz was used to getting attention because he'd been trying to attract it, not because he was towing around an adorable, tiny mech. Everyone they met smiled at Springer, asked his designation, how old he was, whether Jazz was involved with any mentoring groups. It didn't help that they were both clearly foreign. Jazz was shorter than most Praxians, and neither of them had the signature doorwings the locals were famous for.
Springer was well-behaved when they stopped by the dispensary for fuel supplements, and continued to be so when they visited a pharmacy for nanite booster packs, but by the time they left he'd started to get tired. His little legs had already slowed them down, so Jazz just picked him up to carry the rest of the way back. Springer was a big sparkling, so Jazz probably looked a little silly carrying him with just one arm, but they managed.
"Just the electronics store left, and then we can go home. Do you want to take a nap when we get there?"
Springer nodded. Actually, he seemed likely to drop off right there. Jazz quickened his pace and hummed softly. Springer didn't nap well. They might have to put off the electronics store for another time.
As Jazz changed course to return to the apartment, they passed another mentor-bitlet pair. Both were clearly native Praxian, immaculately polished, and near-identical. The mentor had enforcer's decals on his doorwings. As they drew close, his cold blue optics locked onto Jazz.
Jazz, who had felt like he was doing pretty good at the whole 'sparkling' thing, suddenly realized what he must look like. Foreign, clearly an entertainer, with one arm dangling uselessly and a scuffed, miserable sparkling that looked nothing like him. It was a wonder the enforcer didn't stop and demand to see his mentorship permit.
He scoffed and bounced Springer a little higher on his good arm. It didn't matter. They had problems that shiny enforcer could only dream of. Sure, Jazz might wish his bitlet would talk to him like the little Praxian did, pointing at everything and chattering on, but who cared? He kept Springer safe, and that was the important part.
The orn after their outing, Jazz took Springer for another. All the files he'd been reading said regular exposure to new things was good for development, and he wanted Springer to spend more time around other mecha (If Jazz was also getting desperate to leave the apartment, that was no one's business but his own. It was starting to feel like a cage).
They went to the electronics store to pick up the tiny spy cameras Jazz hadn't been able to retrieve last orn, then to a small park a few blocks from their building. Jazz had researched this place. While one half was dedicated to the crystal gardens Praxus was famous for, the other half was a sparkling play area. Better yet, it was fenced in, so Jazz would have a chance to stop Springer if he bolted.
Springer looked around, optics wide like he'd never seen a playground before. It was entirely possible he hadn't.
"Look, you can climb on the structure like those other sparklings are doing, or you can transform and drive on the racetrack. Does that sound fun?"
He didn't seem enthused by either option, but eventually transformed into a little all-terrainer and started driving, carefully avoiding other sparklings, toys, and other obstacles. Jazz sighed and went to sit on a bench to watch. He hoped Springer was actually enjoying himself and not just doing what he thought Jazz wanted him to.
The entire park was a security nightmare. The fence was tall enough Springer probably couldn't climb it, but a determined adult or flier could get in easily. There were sightlines everywhere, a busy street on one side and a residence block on the other. Anyone could be watching from the windows or puttering around the shops across the street.
If they had to run, it would probably be best to go for the other half of the park and lose their pursuers in the crystal garden. Until his arm was fully functional, Jazz would be able to either carry Springer or hop the fence but not both, so they'd have to go for one of the two gates. One opened onto the street, the other at the corner between the residence block and the crystal gardens. The corner gate got less traffic, which might be best, but other mentors and sparklings could impede a pursuer's progress just as much as they would impede Jazz's…
Actually, one of the mentors coming in from the streetside gate looked familiar. The enforcer that had sized up Jazz the other day and his matching bitty stepped into the playground. Bitty went running for the climbing structure right away, but the enforcer scanned the area much the way Jazz had before moving to a bench on an adjacent side to Jazz.
It was the bench Jazz had calculated as having the second-best strategic vantage point (The first, of course, being where Jazz was sitting). He had an excellent view of both the racetrack and the gravel pit, and was equidistant from both gates. The enforcer had visibly clocked Jazz in the best seat before making his choice.
Springer had stopped driving and was slowly making his way up the climbing structure. At each step or platform he would pause, grab the railing, look for Jazz, and wait at least ten klicks before continuing up. He didn't seem to be having a good time, but at least he was taking initiative.
The enforcer had stopped watching his own sparkling and was focused on Springer, doorwings tilted in mild concern. Jazz checked his internal files, sensing a visit from Sparkling Services in his future. Identification forms for Jazz of Staniz? Check. Resident alien permit for Praxus? Check. The mentorship license was more complicated. Springer had clearly been through a rough spot, so Jazz being on file as original caretaker would have implied he was responsible. Transfer of mentorship was unusual, hopefully enough so that the enforcers wouldn't spot the paperwork as a fake. Mirage's forgeries were excellent, but not entirely foolproof.
Jazz cleared his HUD just in time to see Springer climb the last of the structure, on top of a canopy that was rather clearly not meant to be climbed on.
"Springer? Springer, let's get down from there." Jazz got up and headed towards the climbing structure, trying not to go fast enough for Springer to spook.
Too late. It might have been Jazz or it might have been something else, but Springer transformed into helicopter mode and leaped off the climbing structure.
Frag.