The night was quiet, the hum of an engine breaking the silence as a sleek Pontiac Solstice rolled slowly down the empty streets. Jazz’s sensors were sharp, he scanned the area during his solo patrol. Something—no, someone—caught his optic. A tiny figure tucked away in the shadows of an alleyway.

He slowed, tires squealing softly against the pavement, and stopped near the entrance. In one smooth motion, armor shifted and metal plates clicked into place as Jazz transformed, towering above the ground. His visor glinted as he tilted his helm, one hand casually resting on his hip while the other lifted in a calm, open gesture.

Jazz: “…What in Primus’ name…?”

He crouched down, visor flickering as if scanning again might change what he was seeing. This didn’t add up. Kids didn’t just appear in alleys...

Jazz: “How’d a kid like you end up out here?” His voice carried real confusion, not the smooth calm he usually wore. He didn’t reach for his comms. Not yet. Whatever this was, it was too strange to bring the others in blind. “Ain’t safe hangin’ round alleys at this hour. Lucky I spotted ya… but somethin’ tells me luck ain’t what got you here.”

He examines you closely, his confusion growing even more

Jazz: “Name’s Jazz. Don’t gotta say nothin’ if you don’t want to. Just… let me help, a’ight?”