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The new recruits were big. At least as tall as Optimus, across the board, and some of them were twice as wide. If they had the processors, or at least the training, to back up their brawn then they would be a pit of a training challenge. And if they didn’t, Bee and Raj would probably have their work cut out for them anyway.
Frag, with the armor he was seeing on the biggest of the group, he’d have his work cut out for him. Wherever Ironhide had found them, they’d definitely been prepared to take hits.
“Alright mechs,” Jazz shook off his concern and stepped forward with a grin. “I’m Commander Jazz, of the intelligence division. You drew the short straw and get to help train me an’ my team today.”
The biggest mech, a construction alt of some kind painted in a safety yellow that made him turn down his visor’s saturation when he looked at him, looked at the three of them with a frown. “No offense, commander,” he said, insult obviously clear in his tone, “But I can scrap all three of you with one hand.”
Oh now that was just rude. Jazz’s easy smile fell away, though it was replaced with one that his partner had often described as vicious. It was going to hurt probably, but now it was a matter of professional pride to put this mech in his place. “Oh, you can try, mech.”
“Bonecrusher protocol, Commander?” Mirage asked, turning to him with a smile that was a vicious as Jazz’s own. The former noble didn’t like having his abilities insulted any more than Jazz did.
“Yep,” he glanced at the other recruits for a klik. If they were an actual team already… “With Devistator contingency.”
“Understood, Jazz.” Mirage nodded. And then vanished.
“What the frag?!” One of the others cried out.
And then a third cried out in pain, reached down toward the ankle cabling that Bumblebee had just sliced during Mirage’s misdirection, and fell over with a floor-shaking thud.
“That’s one!” The minibot called cheerfully from behind the other recruits.
“Two,” Mirage added calmly as the second speaker convulsed from a taser strike and also fell.
And then that was all the time Jazz had to admire his teammate’s work, because the biggest recruit roared and lunged for him. Jazz made a note to himself to have Ironhide work with him on telegraphing his moves like that and then ran up the mech’s arm before it could connect with his head. That had the effect of making the mech swing his free arm to try and swat him, but Jazz was still moving and he slapped his own arm with a clang and a hiss of pain, as Jazz stopped at his shoulder and kicked out with his left leg.
The yellow mech screeched as his optic glass shattered. He tried to grab Jazz as he dropped to his knees, but Jazz jumped away. He flipped in the air and landed facing the yellow mech, daggers in hand and ready in case the mech tried anything else.
“You good, Jazz?” Bee asked, threat clear in his too-calm voice.
“Dunno.” He glanced toward his teammate for a klik, noting that Bee was standing on the back of another one of the recruits and Mirage was sitting on the fourth and polishing a scuff out of his foot. Then he glanced back at the yellow mech, who was glaring at him angrily enough to melt titanium. “We good mech?”
“We’re good,” he growled.
“Good.” Jazz took a step back and flipped one of his daggers back into his subspace. “Now, if you mechs think we were unfair today, think about what the Cons’ll do to you out there on the field. We went easy on you, but they ain’t gonna.”
“Noted,” yellow replied after several long seconds.
“Great!” Jazz grinned, and he wasn’t sure it was friendly but that would probably help hammer in the lesson they’d just had to teach these mechs. “Agent Bumblebee, call up to medbay for our recruits, please. Ask if Ratch’ll send his trainee and get him some practice on optics.”
The yellow recruit growled. Bumblebee replied, cheerful, “With my prettiest please, Commander!”
Good. Someone should get some actual training out of this session, because it had turned into a letdown otherwise. Jazz almost oculdn’t believe he’d been worried to begin with.
“What the frag did you do to my trainees?!” Ironhide called from the door.
“Taught ‘em not to dismiss the little guys,” Jazz replied. “And made sure the lesson stuck.”