FicWad

A/N: Details and disclaimer can be found in the 1st chapter.

Chapter 2 - "The Meeting"

Seven minutes. That's how long it took Bumblebee and Optimus to get to the Paradise Hotel. This amount of time would be more than enough for Jazz to remember his whole period of functioning. The waiting seemed to take forever. He wished he could run ascan around the area, at least for entertainment if not for the mission... He felt as naked as the moment he'd been spark-ignited.

And bored to disconnection.

He sent a silent prayer to Primus in Ratchet's honor though, thankful to the medical officer for fixing his internet connection program firsthand upon his revival. Actually, Jazz had practically forced the repair bot to fix it. 'I can live without ma'lower regions, doc, but I can't live without music, so ya better hook me up to the web.' So, after the signal had settled somewhere on the sixth floor of the hotel, Jazz checked the list of visitors, verifying the data with the personal files and hoping that the girl didn't go by a fake name. "Rita Grace" was the only one who looked like the female he'd seen earlier.

Jazz transmitted the information he'd found to Optimus and others. To busy his CPU with something he started to analyze the situation. What did that girl carry with herself that sent the impulse? It had to be something small, because he didn't see a bag with her, or anything like that. It had to be small enough to fit in a pocket.

What did humans carry in their pockets?

A quick web-search showed that human pockets normally could contain... well, just about anything. From a watch or writing products, to condoms or tampons, to candy wrappers and chewing gum, it depended on the occasion and personality of the owner. This knowledge didn't help the Autobot in the least, but gave him a couple of amusing minutes before Bumblebee's yellow form showed from behind the corner of the street, followed closely by Optimus.

''Bout time you showed up, guys. I was already fallin' into stasis,' Jazz chuckled.

'Yeah, I see why humans hate traffic jams so much,' Bumblebee answered with a short laugh.

'Good job, Jazz,' Optimus greeted his second in command, but stopped mid-sentence. 'Ratchet, what has happened to the signal? Do you read it?' His voice sounded confused.

'It... disappeared, sir.'

'Whatta ya mean "disappeared?"' Jazz asked.

'I am not receiving it anymore,' came Ratchet's reply.

'Same here,' Ironhide reported, still on his way to the hotel.

'I lost it too,' Bumblebee confirmed.

'Err... then how come I'm still readin' it?' Jazz asked suspiciously.

A long pause followed. 'That is a good question,' Optimus' voice was carefully blank. 'Ratchet, can you explain this?'

'Uh, no sir. The radar here at the base that I am looking at now has the widest range, and it is supposed to be the first one to read the signal. It is blank now, and if it is not getting the signal, none of us should be getting the signal, including Jazz. It is theoretically impossible.'

'Yet he is,' Optimus pointed out. 'Maybe some malfunction of Jazz's radar is the cause?'

'That is out of the question, sir. No malfunction would enable it to exceed its original capabilities. Unless the data renewal function is damaged. Is the source of the signal moving, Jazz?'

'Yeah. The activity is minimal, but it's there.'

There was another long pause. 'Alright,' Optimus delivered his verdict. 'Then we shall simply have to accept it for the time being.'

'Sir?' Bumblebee called out in concern. 'I'm reading one Decepticon signature in the area. It's... Barricade.' His tone was surprised, which was quite understandable.

'So he survived, huh? Now that's what I call an impertinent interference with the Autobot business,' Ironhide grumbled, pulling over near the three other Autobots. Then roared, 'Lemme kick that dumpster's aft, Optimus!'

'As you were, Ironhide.' The leader's voice was calm and authoritative, as if nothing in the world could affect him. 'No "kicking" or any other potentially dangerous activity in the direct proximity of humans.'

'Oh, c'mon!' the weapons expert whined. 'I've just tuned my bomb-sight this morning, and I'm pretty sure this canon-babe of mine can take him down with just one careful blast.'

'I said no. I do not have any doubts in regards of your aiming capabilities, but we can not risk our secretiveness. Barricade is alone and outnumbered, so if he attempts to harm anyone it will be the last thing he will do. And he is well aware of that. Let him go, the center of the city is not a good place for a fight.'

'Urrrgh, these humans are always getting in the way,' Ironhide rumbled under his breath. 'Might as well use them as movin' targets. The smaller, the better.'

'Ironhide, we do not harm humans!' Optimus exclaimed in exasperation.

'I know, I know, just thinkin' aloud,' the black Autobot capitulated.

Bumblebee's chuckle sounded through the intercom. 'More like wishful thinking, 'Hide.'

'Uh, guys?' Jazz cut in. 'It's all cool, but what're we gonna do now?'

'It would appear that the Decepticons have intercepted the signal as well,' Optimus mused. 'We do not know if they have the information about the... source yet, but the probability of it is high. Whatever the signal means, we can not allow the Decepticons take control over the situation. Jazz?'

'Yes sir?'

'Are you still reading the signal?'

'Uh, yeah. It's weak, but stable.'

'Good. You are assigned to get into close contact with this human female to investigate and protect her until further orders.'

'Yes sir,' Jazz said, but then realized he was unable to protect even himself, let alone anyone else. 'Err... How am I supposed t' do dat, Optimus? I'm... well, kinda not exactly in ma' best condition right now.'

'That is why you are to return to the base where Ratchet will repair your weapons systems and scanners. Ratchet, you have two hours for repairs, then Jazz is heading back here.'

'Yes sir,' both Ratchet and Jazz replied.

'Bumblebee, escort the lieutenant to the base and return as soon as you can incase of a Decepticon attack. There could be more of them in the area.'

'Consider it done, sir.'

'You may go.'

The silver Pontiac Solstice and the yellow Chevy Camaro revved their engines and hurriedly left for the base. Well, as hurriedly as the traffic would allow them.

Jazz heard the sound of Optimus hacking into the cell frequencies and making a call. Several seconds later a tired male voice answered with a 'yes?', and the Autobot leader started to speak in his polite manner. 'Mister Michael Weller?' Another 'yes'. 'I am representing the Neville Assistance Agency of Mission City, and I am calling you on behalf of mister Neville himself...'

This is going to be interesting, Jazz thought.

*

A family truck jumped up a hummock, and she clutched to the seatbelt that was pinning her to the back seat of the car. The green-yellow field drifted by outside the window, the air conditioner barely managing the summer heat.

She leaned to the window and, spotting a herd of cows in the distance, pressed her teddy bear to the glass so that he could see it too.

"Honey, are you hungry?" A woman sitting in the passenger seat turned to her and gave her a warm smile. The woman's green eyes shone with love and happiness. She silently shook her head no and looked at the man who was driving. He sensed her stare, turned his head and gave her a similar smile. "We'll be there by this evening, dear, take a nap if you li-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence. A huge burning mass fell from the sky and landed in the middle of the field, right in front of the car. The force of the collision was enough to dig a huge, deep hole in the ground which shuddered and growled.

Huge bits of soil, stone and heated metal hit the truck and crushed its front like a cardboard box. The damaged vehicle was sent flying by the power of the impact. It landed heavily on its roof and rolled across the field like a feather-light toy, leaving a corridor of crumpled grass behind. Turning over several times, it skidded to a halt on one side...

Rita woke up abruptly and sat up in her bed, breathing heavily. She was covered in a cold sweat and a little disoriented. Glancing around and recognizing the hotel room, the girl groaned and hid her face in the palms of her hands. This same dream haunted her, again and again. And every time waking up she couldn't tell it from reality. It felt so real, so... painful.

"God, I'm so fucked up," she sobbed.

That expression just about wrapped up her entire life.

Before she became Rita she had been nobody. A child without parents, with no relatives or even memories of her past. They called her Jules in the children's home. She hated the name. It was the first thing she got rid of when she left the house of her misery. She used the only true talent she had - her voice - to become a session singer in one of local studios which was a common choice of bands that were just starting out to make a cheap and listenable demo at. And then Michael spotted her, and her life changed. She wasn't nobody anymore. She was a vocalist in a pop-rock band consisting of 'three damn talented guys and one pretty red-haired girl'. A fairy-tale, a dream. Happiness...

It had been like that, until the first attack of dizziness and pain came out of the blue and ended with a deep faint. It happened two months ago. She had always been abnormally healthy, so that episode surprised and disturbed her. But she got really frightened when doctors tried to examine her condition and ended up with broken equipment and a non-optimistic prognosis. Even the most expensive clinics couldn't tell her anything definite, but the symptoms were pointing to the worst. Her body didn't accept antibiotics or any other kind of medicine. Her body was claimed by something unknown, and it was winning the battle against any cure she tried.

During the past two months she had four more attacks of the same kind and managed to come to terms with the concept of death. She wrote a will, which was rather short. She was only twenty, and therefore didn't have anything major to give to others after she's gone. So it was just something along the lines "I leave whatever money Ihave to Michael, Steve, Don and Bobby in equal parts". Well, a will was aritual, something dying people normally did, something others would remember them by... Sometimes she watched cars and people in the streets and tried to imagine what life would be like for them when she's not around. They would go on as if nothing had happened. It would make her sad, and the next minute she would get angry and promise to herself she would hold on as long as she could. Until the next attack came.

Tonight drew a line in her mind. It was fine, almost invisible, but it changed everything. Because she didn't really care anymore. No point in being frightened, or pitying herself. She had to live while she could. There wouldn't be another chance for that.

Rita sighed and looked at her watch. It was 11 pm. Aglance at her cell phone showed there were no calls or messages. This was expected, because she had called Michael upon her arrival at the hotel from the hospital and informed him that she was okay and going to sleep and that she didn't want anyone to disturb her unless they had a damn good reason.

She wasn't sleepy anymore, and generally she felt better, though still a bit tired. She took along hot shower, enjoying every second of it; then dried her hair, did a light makeup and sat down on the bed. She had two options: poker game or a drive around the city. She didn't really feel like doing either, but it was better than just sitting here alone.

Rita fished out a penny from somewhere inside of her duffel bag. Heads - drive, tails - poker. The coin flew up and hung in mid-air for a second like a small transparent sphere. It landed with a clear clanging sound and rolled across the floor, falling flat near her bare feet.

Liberty, Rita read, staring down as if in thought.

"A drive it is then,"she murmured, getting a pair of jeans and a grey blouse out of the same bag. It was good to have everything you need in one place, she thought absently.

She dressed quickly and looked at herself in the mirror, noticing dark circles around her eyes and the paleness of the skin.

"You could get aleading part in a horror movie in an instant, my dear," she smirked humorlessly and left the room. She wasn't that famous to be afraid for her life. So, even though it would give Michael a heart attack, she was planning to catch a taxi cab and get to a local rental car place. Rita wanted to spend the rest of the night just driving around and listening to a good music.

Music was something that never changed, that had always been with her and never betrayed her. Something she had faith in, unconditionally. Well, even if she was going to die, at least she had a job she really enjoyed, and it was more than many people had. So it wasn't that bad after all.

A cool breeze tangled in her hair as she stepped out of the hotel into the night. Sounds of traffic and a sea of neon lights around told her that night life was stirring up the city.

She made her way to the road, but never got to lift her hand up.

"Miss Grace?" She heard a smooth voice calling out to her and reflexively turned in its direction.

A silver Pontiac Solstice was parked several feet from where she was standing. Leaning lazily against the passenger door there stood a young black man, seemingly in his mid-twenties. His pose was relaxed, arms crossed on his chest. He was about 5'9" and well built. Short raven hair in a picturesque mess, straight nose, an expressive line of lips. He was dressed in loose grey pants, black sneakers and a white sleeveless t-shirt that clung to his defined torso like a second skin. Black V-shaped mirrored sunglasses completed an incredibly cool, hot and aggressive image.

Rita stared dumbly at him in silence. Not waiting for her answer and obviously satisfied by having the girl's undivided attention, the man inclined his head forward a bit, glanced at her above the rim of his shades with astoundingly blue eyes and smiled mischievously. "Nice to meet ya. Ma' name's Jack. I'm gonna be your assistant."

End of Chapter 2