FicWad

Title: "Resolution"
Author: Lola Hard
Fandom: Transformers (post-movie 2007)
Pairing: Jazz/OC
Rating: R (for language and violence, maybe adult themes in later chapters)
Genre: Romance/Drama/Adventure
Summary: A couple of months have passed since the destruction of the Allspark. A young girl named Rita is a singer in a pop-rock band. She seems to be asuccessful artist and have a good life, but an unknown disease is slowly killing her. To add more to her plate, strange people are hunting after her, their motives and reasons unknown. It's then when partially repaired Jazz appears on the horizon. And it all seems to be more serious than even the powerful Autobots could imagine.
Disclaimer: I don't own the universe of Transformers and its characters. But Ido own my original character Rita and her background.
A/N: Big gratitude to my wonderful beta Kristie (a.k.a. ionicaq), she did a great job with righting all my wrongs. Thank you, hon :)



Chapter 1 - "Getting Disturbed"

Electric guitar chords flew from the stage and filled the "Jet Club". Talented fingers of aguitarist ripped a masterly passage from his instrument, and it was answered by a low growl of a highly-skilled bass line. A drummer defined the tempo with four sweeping hi-hat strikes, and the trio played the beginning part of one of their songs.

Rita sat at a bar and watched her band. They were one hour through sound check, and still had one hour left. And after that she would have almost 24 hours for herself until the show. She could go sightseeing around the city which looked pretty impressive and kinda strange, as if a huge tornado had stormed through it not long ago; or play strip poker with her bandmates; or sleep her head off in a hotel; or...

"Okay, the instrumental part is fine," the sound director's voice interrupted her thoughts and the guys' performance. "Let's try vocals now. Rita, please take your place onstage."

She made her way to a microphone stand and checked the sound by clicking her tongue. She hated to repeat "one, two, three" on each check, so she usually just started to sing.

But as she took abreath for her first musical phrase, her vision darkened all of a sudden, and she clutched to the stand. Everything around her became blurred and all sounds seemed distant. Oh, no...

"Rita...?" A worried voice calling her was muffled, like the person that spoke was separated from her by a wall. "Hey, Rita, are you alright...? Rita!"

The world swayed. Not again...

Someone was running to her, she heard other voices, and then - only darkness.

*

'Ratchet to Prime. Come in.'

'Prime here. What is it?'

'The scanners at our base have just intercepted a strange signal.'

'What kind?'

'Unknown to us. It does not look like that of the Decepticons, and it can not belong to the humans either.'

'Where is it coming from?'

'I can not tell precisely. Just an approximate area, its range is about 20 miles. Your orders, Optimus?'

'Gather the others at the base in 15 minutes. Prime out.'

'Roger that, sir. Ratchet out.'

*

"It is my concern and my headache, Rita, you do not have a say in this."

They presented astrange image: a tiny red-haired girl storming down the hospital corridor, clumsily trying to put on a jacket, and a tall man following her and trying to actually make her listen to what he thought was a reasonable course of action.

"We have acontract, Michael. They're probably already worried whether I'll be able to perform tomorrow night. I don't want to hear anything about my wellbeing anymore." Rita resumed her hurried way to the exit. She managed to put her right arm through the sleeve, but it was a bit more difficult with the left one, since the jacket belonged to Michael and she could wrap it around herself at least twice, and also she was still a little unsteady on her legs and wasn't going to slow down.

"This is not the first time it had happened. It is my decision to make, don't make me force you," the man kept pushing, getting irritated. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the side, having almost collided with a nurse carrying some papers.

"You may be adirector of my band, but it doesn't change the fact that all this fuss is in vain," Rita muttered resolutely. "You should know by now that any equipment in this goddamned hospital - or in any other, might I add - will show you only ablank list. That is if it stays functional after analyzing my condition. Just bear with it."

They stormed into the vestibule which was unexpectedly deserted and empty.

"I still insist-"

Rita stopped abruptly, and Michael almost bumped into her. The girl whirled around and faced him. An ice-cold anger in her green eyes seemed to have frozen the rest of the sentence in his throat.

"It's useless, damn it! I don't want to waste time for getting examined. I've got better things to do..." The girl averted her gaze. "While I still have time," she added quietly.

An awkward silence hung between the two. The ticking of clock on the wall sounded like a pulse of a cold mechanical heart.

"I'm outta here,"Rita said, finally putting the jacket all the way on, which gave her looks aresemblance to a homeless child. "Don't go after me, I want... to be alone right now."

She then turned around again and left the building. The man stared after her, his hand running through his hair, pain visible in his eyes. He felt helpless.

*

The evening sky was absolutely clear, and only a small group of transparent clouds looking like hesitant strokes of an enormous paint-brush seemed to escort the orange-red sun on its unhurried way to the horizon.

The rays of the amber star rested upon the armor of four giant metallic figures that were standing still like alien statues on a deserted land away from the city where humans lived. The figures were looking at a big blue-red semi-truck approaching them in a cloud of dry yellow dust. It stopped about thirty feet from them and started to change, taking the humanoid shape, similar to theirs.

Transformation took several seconds, and then the azure eyes of the newly arrived Optimus Prime looked over each of his friends with a fatherly concern. His attentive and calm stare lingered on the silver bot, the smallest of them, the last robot the Allspark had given birth to. Or, the second birth, to be more exact. Its last shard had been implanted into Jazz's spark case. Nobody had been sure that it would work until he came back online. It was a combination of Ratchet's knowledge and sheer luck, and they still couldn't believe it. Jazz was with them again, as if he'd never been absent. And now was staring at his leader with the same emotion in his optics that could be read in the others' as well: confidence. Were they confident in success? Or in his abilities of a leader? In the face of the unknown the leader could only play his part.

Optimus turned to the lime-green bot. "Ratchet, please, explain the situation."

"Yes sir," the medic replied, starting his report without further ado. "About twenty Earth minutes ago the scanners here at the base detected an unknown kind of signal. It was rather weak, and that would be the reason why our personal scanners were- and still are - unable to detect it, unlike the stationary ones. If we are to find the source we shall have to get exceptionallyclose to it. The exact location is undefined; we have only an approximate area of 20 miles in diameter from the center of Mission City."

The Autobots took acouple of seconds to register this new information, and then Optimus took the initiative into his hands. "Then I believe we shall have to split for the search. Ratchet, you stay here, you will be monitoring the signal and coordinating our moves."

"Yes sir." The medic nodded in acknowledgement.

"Ironhide, you get to search in the northern sector of the area."

"Aye, aye." A roll of a huge gun in Ironhide's arm spoke volumes about his readiness.

"Bumblebee - you get the south-eastern sector."

"Got it sir." The yellow bot shifted on his legs, eager to start the operation.

"I am checking on the south-west," the leader continued. "Keep in touch and report if anything unusual happens. Any questions?"

"Sir?" Jazz's voice sounded hesitant. It was only then that everyone noticed that Optimus' second in command hadn't actually been named.

"Yes, Jazz?" The leader turned to the smallest of the bots.

"Am I getting my orders, sir?" His tension was obvious; the others froze around the two autobots.

Optimus paused before responding. "You are not to assist in the operation this time," he spoke softly, but confidently.

"Why?" Jazz was hurt and confused.

"As much as I value your support and respect your skills, lieutenant, it would be too rushed to throw you into potential danger without your weapons systems and scanners working. It would be better if you stayed behind for now."

Jazz's optics lit up with a blue fire, his fists clenched tightly. His voice rose up a notch when he spoke again. "This is just a search...! I've juz come back online, a'right, and I'm not fully functional yet, but it don't mean I'm useless, Optimus! If I'm not mistaken, I'm still one o' the team, an' I can help!"

It wasn't about subordination and orders anymore; it was about camaraderie and friendship. Ratchet, Ironhide and Bumblebee kept silent at this confrontation, not daring to interfere. The leader of the Autobots was the only one to decide such things, and he now seemed to be in deep thought, contemplating the words of his small by size, but brave at spark friend who more than once laughed in the face of death. Optimus trusted Jazz with his life, but didn't want to take unnecessary risks if they could be avoided...

Jazz held his ground, staring at his leader and silently urging him to give in.

"Alright, Jazz,"Optimus finally spoke. "You take the southern sector." The feeling of relief that washed over the rest of the Autobots could not bee seen, but was almost tangible. "If anything - and I mean anything - happens, do not play hero, immediately call for back up. No arguments accepted," he held up his hand dismissively, noting Jazz's intention to say something. "Autobots, transform and roll out!" Optimus' command sounded.

That was all they needed to hear. Metal shifted and clanked. Several seconds later a procession of four vehicles left the base and headed to Mission City.

*

It was hot on the roads; teems of engines were rumbling in different tones as the traffic moved rather slowly along the crowded streets.

Jazz produced his holo-projection onto his driver's seat so as not to scare the humans around him or attract the attention of the police. That was the last thing they needed right now, problems with the local representatives of law and order. It would endanger their mission, not to mention they'd lose precious time, which they didn't really have because the signal was fading with every passing second.

Since Jazz's revival Ratchet had only had the time and opportunity to repair his basic and most needed radar, so that the silver bot could at least locate the whereabouts of himself and his colleagues in space, and Jazz was thankful to the medic for that. But truth was, his inability to process the surrounding information with his damaged scanners proved to be extremely unnerving, especially now, when he needed it the most. Was this how regular cars felt - empty and unprotected? He mentally laughed at himself. You're a genius, Jazz, thanks a lot, regular cars don't feel nuthin'. But he was far from regretting his decision of participating in the search. He was eager to feel helpful, and to generally be back beside his comrades after this offline nightmare, which he didn't want to think about.

As a result, Jazz now didn't have any option other than to concentrate on the soft beeping sounds his one and only radar was producing. He knew that upon their arrival here the others had received the same transmission from Ratchet, who was still stationed at the base. The medic had sent them full characteristics of the signal, and all of the Autobots could now monitor it by themselves. Being quite close to it enabled them to detect it, but they still weren't close enough to find its exact source.

'Autobots, report your situation,' Optimus' firm voice requested through their intercoms.

'Ironhide. Nothing.'

'Bumblebee. Nothing.'

'Jazz. Nuthin','he echoed.

'Alright, proceed with your search. Prime out.'

And they did just that. Crossings, turns, eventual voices of 'Hide and Bee reporting to their leader, Jazz's own frustrated responses, Ratchet's assisting remarks... Nothing so far, only a vague presence of the signal.

The silver Pontiac Solstice passed yet another crowded crossing at an agonizingly slow speed. He mentally groaned feeling almost claustrophobic with so many cars around. He was used to vast spaces and fast racing, and he seriously needed some action. So dragging his aft around at a speed of an injured pregnant snail falling asleep on its way was quite irritating.

However, it was good to see Mission City partially repaired after the final battle for the Allspark. This place still looked like a piece of scrap, but generally life here went on like before. He felt pride for his cybertronian and human friends to have won that battle. Of course, he had a good excuse for not having witnessed this glorious moment, but he still wished he'd been able to see it with his own optics...

With such thoughts he took a right turn and... lost the signal.

"Aw, blast," he muttered. This meant that it was rapidly getting weaker, and there wasn't much time left until it would disappear completely. One of them had to find it soon, or their search would be in vain.

Jazz halted seeking for a space in the traffic where he could turn around to get back to his previous path. He flashed his headlights at one of the vehicles so that it let him through, and was given the needed space for the turn. Jazz's holo-projection smiled thankfully to the driver of the other vehicle and followed the smooth whirl of the Pontiac's steering wheel with its hands. If only that guy knew who he really was... he'd probably jump out of his car and run away as fast as his legs would carry him. And that was the reason why Optimus had insisted on the Autobots' secretiveness while on Earth... Well, it didn't really look like they were going to leave Earth anytime soon, Jazz thought with a bitter feeling in his spark. Because now there was nowhere to go.

He came to the same crossing again, but this time he went straight ahead, and was rewarded with afamiliar 'beep' as his radar screen came to life again. There appeared to be new details on the signal. According to it he was actually... in the range of sight from it. He kept moving forward, very slowly, until there were no doubts left as to where the source of it was located.

"Gotcha," the bot inwardly smiled.

'Jazz to Ratchet, c'min.'

'Ratchet here, I'm listening.'

'The signal seems to be comin' from a vehicle twenty yards down the street from my current location. I can identify it as a... taxi cab. Check the coordinates.' He made the quick transmission to Ratchet hoping it would be what they were looking for.

There was a brief pause. 'Assumption confirmed, Jazz. You have found it. Any additional data available?'

'Negative. With ma' scanners offline I'm kinda sensory blind. A visual contact I've got, but can't give you a picture or nothin' else. It's movin' down the street. Permission to follow?'

'Granted. Be careful and make sure you remain unnoticed.'

'Who d'you think I am, Ratch?' Jazz grumbled in a low voice. 'I may be damaged a bit, but I ain't like, miss-clocked*, fur Primus' sake.'

'I sure hope you are not, lieutenant. Otherwise it would seriously question my medical competence.' Ratchet stated with a smirk. 'I am transmitting the data to the others. Ratchet out.'

Jazz fell back abit to safely follow the taxi cab without being noticed and quickly calculated the distance to the closest of the Autobots. That appeared to be Bumblebee, and given the speed and directions they were maintaining, they'd cross paths in... 10 minutes and 48 seconds. Fraggin' traffic jams.

The cab Jazz was now following didn't look strange at all, just a normal car. A wild thought crossed his processor for a second: what if it's a transformer? But he tossed this thought aside as soon as it appeared. Even though his sensors weren't working, his instincts would certainly inform him on such matter, but they kept silent. So the Autobot just followed.

Two minutes later the cab slowed down and pulled over in front of a large building. Jazz repeated its maneuver and parked himself fifteen yards behind it.

'This is Jazz. The suspected car has stopped near the Paradise Hotel.'

'Roger that, Jazz,' Ratchet's calm voice came. 'Keep your watch, others are on their way.'

The silver Pontiac was now staring intently at the vehicle. Five seconds passed, nothing happened. Six. Seven. Eight...

The door of the cab opened, and one slender leg, clad in a black-stocking and high-heeled shoe, came down onto the concrete of the sidewalk. Then the other. A moment later a slim red-haired girl in a short jeans skirt and an oversized jacket (probably belonging to a human male) stepped out of the car, closed the passenger door and just stood in place for several seconds, rubbing her forehead with trembling fingers. Jazz absently noted that she was very upset about something, and seemed not entirely healthy.

The cab still wasn't moving, and the beeping sound remained in place as well. Jazz kept guessing what was sending the signal. Something inside of the cab? Or the car itself? The signal was too weak and too blurred to tell for sure. What should his actions be if it turned out to be dangerous? With at least one human so close and with his weapons absent there really was little he could possibly do, only watch and wait for his fellow bots.

The girl sighed and slowly headed to the front doors of the hotel. The signal beeped once more, lighting up the monitor of Jazz's radar, and then suddenly shifted, moving to the area of...

...the hotel?

'Err... Ratchet?'

'Yes, Jazz?'

'I think I've located the exact source of our signal.' He let out a soft chuckle. 'An' it's got nice legs, too.'

End of Chapter 1

* Miss-clocked = retarded and crazy (cybertronian slang, (c) SailorLoon)