Reborn An Autobot (Jazz X OC) [DISCONTINUED]

21. New Fight and Hope

"OH, SHIT!!!!! AHHHH!!!!!!" I screamed as I vision cleared and I saw a brilliantly bright desert.

From far below me.

I shrieked, transforming as I fell and tumbling in the air a bit as my wing's flapped about, catching the air and sending me spiraling.

What do I do, what do I do? I panicked, slapping myself mentally as I forgot one important thing, making me feel like an idiot.

I franically transformed, gasping in fear as I blasted my engine strongly to fight the momentum I had built up, burning a ring of sand, inches from the ground, as I finally stopped falling.

I hovered there for a second, a bit stunned by just how close I came to death, or pulling off the same stupid stunt I did that saved Jazz back in Mission City. I would rather not receive that much damage again, thank you very much.

"Woah! Scrapping ground!" I heard.... was that Jazz? I was shocked to hear him cussing in a lot of different, unique ways in both human and Cybertronian cuss words that honestly shocked me from the usually controlled and polite bot. I honestly thought he just couldn't cuss.

He just proved me wrong.

I turned my engine and wing panels, blasting off in Jazz's direction, rounding a small rock outcropping to find Jazz at the bottom, half a dozen decent sized rocks around him. I grew immediately worried, seeing some were as large as him and could be the reason he is cussing so much. I quickly transformed without touching ground, skidding on my pedes, servo placed in front of me on the ground to control my balance, heating the metal of my servo, digits, and pedes from the friction with the earth.

I stood, dusting my heated servo off and racing up to Jazz.

"Jazz!" I shouted in worry, skidding to a stop beside him.

"Ah am fine, freaking insane scrapper should learn to warp better than some bit-brained idiot." Jazz growled in anger, digging chunks of sharp rock out of his knee. I studied it, worried about the amount packed between his armor before looking up at him, a small smirk forming on my lips.

"And I thought you said Ironhide and I cuss too much, you clearly know more unique cuss words than us." I said in amusement.

Jazz glared lightly at me, his visor luckily undamaged. He then frowned.

"Before the war Ah was a lot worse than Ironhide in cussin'." Jazz grumbled lowly, like he didn't want to admit it.

Jazz began to try to digging the rock out of his knee a bit stronger than he should and I, spark racing in nervousness, pushed his servos carefully away, prompting him to look at me in confusion.

I don't think Jazz, or Ratchet, are quite aware of how many times I had to repair myself the first few years learning to fly. Dirt, grass, and rocks sadly got to know me more than I wished.

I carefully began picking the rock out of his knee a lot softer then he was, trying to prevent damage to the thinner, softer metal that only lightly protects the wires and internal functions. This was familiar to me, I had dung rock out my armor too many times before and knew that if you tried to break it up to pull it out, it only made the problem worse.

I looked at Jazz in embarrassment, tapping his leg to tell him to bend his knee slightly. He seemed intrigued and obeyed my request as I carefully pulled the small chunks out, sadly having to split the largest chuck and pull it out in pieces.

I pulled out the last piece and winced in sympathy as a small bit of energon began to leak from the wound. Looks as though the rock did poke through the thinner, less protective metal. I looked up at Jazz in question, wondering if he wanted me to lightly heat one of my knives to close it, as I had no metal on me.