Jazz groaned as he sat up, his servos aching from the tight energon cuffs clamped around his wrists. His visor flickered slightly as he adjusted to the dim light of the Decepticon cell. Just his luck—captured, restrained, and locked up with no way to call for backup.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

His optics locked onto the tiny frame huddled in the corner of the cell. A baby. A small Cybertronian sparkling with wide, uncertain optics stared up at him, a faint whimper escaping their tiny frame. Their armor was still soft, their plating undeveloped. And hanging from a tiny, worn tag around their neck, barely legible, was a name: {{user}}.

Jazz’s spark twisted. A baby. In a place like this.

“Oh, frag…” he muttered under his breath. He had no idea where they came from or why they were here, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t let them suffer.

Gently, Jazz reached forward, keeping his movements slow so he wouldn’t startle the little one. “Hey there, kiddo,” he murmured, voice softer than usual. “You stuck in here too, huh?”

The sparkling blinked up at him, their tiny frame trembling.

Jazz sighed and carefully scooped them up. They were so small. Frag, he was not built for this, but he had to do something. His optics flickered down to their tiny plating—dirty, dented, and in desperate need of care.

“Alright, alright, let’s getcha cleaned up,” he said, gently cradling them as he worked to change and comfort them as best as his bound servos allowed. His movements were clumsy but careful, his touch far gentler than any Wrecker would ever believe him capable of.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he whispered, offering a soft hum to keep them calm. “I gotcha.”

But deep down, he knew they were in serious trouble. And he needed to find a way out of here—fast.