This took WAY longer than it should've
Title: Fishtailing (6/13)
Verse: G1 AU
Rating: PG-13/T
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, ensemble
Warnings: none
Summary: Fishtailing: when the driver of the car loses control and the end swerves side to side; like their lives that, due to poor past decisions, spun out of control, and now they were just along for the ride.
Notes: Sorry about the delay, this chapter just didn’t want to be written, and there are parts that I’m not quite sure came out how they were supposed to. As always, if you see any errors that I missed, please let me know so I can fix them, or just let me know what you think.
Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5
“You got all the friends you need,
Bad tattoos and worse ideas,
You feel alive,
Do you feel alive?”
“One More Weekend” by The Academy Is…
It was a decaorn before Jazz saw Barricade again.
He had been going to Velocity Loop semi-regularly since his discovery of it, and he had to admit that Barricade and Backbite had been correct, this race track was much better than Rubidium. It didn’t have all the glitz and glamour that Rubidium did, nor did it have the immense crowds of mechs, instead Velocity was much more low key, mechs were there to have a few quick races amongst friends, they weren’t there to see and be seen, mechs went to Velocity to race. That was what made all the difference to Jazz, he had originally come to Praxus to race, and while the Rubidium track was awe inspiring, he had found a hidden gem here.
Sure, Jazz had seen a few mechs gather outside Velocity, most likely selling dark energon or something equally illegal, but the only time Jazz had seen anything illegal happen inside the track, Roadblock had tossed the mechs out on their afts and banned them from the track. This made it more of a safe haven than Jazz had originally thought, and so he had become a regular, and while he was disappointed that he hadn’t seen Barricade since that first orn, he still enjoyed the racetrack.
So few orns later, when Jazz arrived at the track and he was delighted to see Barricade standing there with a few other mechs, and he just couldn’t help himself.
“Long time no see, Cade!”
Five sets of optics landed on him and stared, and Jazz felt the need to twitch - was there something on his face? - but he remained still with a smile on his lipplates.
Finally one pair of red optics turned to look at Barricade.
“You know this mech, Barricade?”
“Yes,” Barricade said, and Jazz felt like laughing, the mech sounded dumbfounded.
“What he means is that we met him at Rubidium a while ago, he’s a tourist,” Backbite said, walking up to the group of mechs, yellow optics glaring at the rest of them, before landing on Jazz. “How the frag did you find this place?”
“Well, you recommended it, though I gotta say you’re horrible at givin a mech directions, place isn’t even named ‘None of Your Fraggin’ Business’. I thought that’s a cool name for a track, but then you had to shatter all my hopes and dreams Backbite.”
Backbite groaned in aggravation, Barricade snorted, and Roadblock began laughing at the green mech’s expense. That was when Jazz began to notice that the rest of the mechs began to relax slightly, except for the one in the middle who was studying Jazz like a science experiment, he was the same one who had addressed Barricade after Jazz.
“Well then, Barricade, we’ll leave you to your tourist friend, don’t be late to the meet up,” the mech said turning to walk away.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be there boss,” Backbite answered, his tone flippant and Barricade nodded.
“I’ll walk you out Crasher,” Roadblock said, his large frame easily catching up to the smaller mech, and the other two mechs that had been with Barricade, Roadblock, and the newly identified Crasher began to wander off, leaving Jazz with Barricade and Backbite.
Jazz looked over at Barricade when he heard the mech make a long ex-vent.
“How did you find this place? I know tourist centers have a few smaller tracks that they recommend, but no tourist center would ever recommend a track this small scale and out of the way,” Barricade said, and Jazz smiled and gestured at Backbite.
“I followed him here one orn.”
Backbite groaned and Barricade chuckled.
“You really are persistent, aren’t you?”
“You guys were all secretive about it, and I like figurin’ out secrets. Besides, you were right, this is an awesome track,” Jazz explained, pleased with himself.
“You’re going to ruin everything!” Backbite snarled, his optics flashing and his fists rising.
Barricade was quick to grab the green mech’s wrists.
“Backbite,” Barricade hissed, and Backbite lowered his fists and glared at Barricade.
“He’s going to ruin it!” Backbite protested loudly, then paused as if something had just occurred to the green mech, as he continued after a beat of silence in a whine, “all the tourists are going to come here now!”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m applying to be a citizen here, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me a tourist,” Jazz said, not liking the sudden tension that was there. He didn’t like the way Backbite had reacted; there had to have been something more than just Jazz being a tourist. It had to be something else, he was misreading something, and when it dawned on him just what it could be, Jazz honestly felt bad. “Oh frag mech! I’m so sorry; I didn’t realize that ya guys were together!”
Yellow optics brightened in what looked like horror as Backbite stood there dumbfounded. Barricade on the other hand, gave Jazz a small smile.
“It’s fine, we needed to spice things up anyway,” Barricade told Jazz in a completely sincere tone, which almost had Jazz believing it, until a klick later when Backbite snapped out of his stupor and slapped Barricade’s hands away from him.
“No! You’re almost another brother to me, Cade! No. Fragging. Way!” Backbite protested, stepping away from his friend.
Barricade began chuckling at Backbite’s reaction with Jazz joining in, and Backbite groaned.
“Frag this, I’m going home. See ya later, Cade,” Backbite said, turning around and heading for the exit.
“Did I frag him off that much?” Jazz asked, his voice serious, and Barricade shook his head.
“No, give him a few orns and he’ll be laughing about it as well,” Barricade explained, looking over at Jazz. “And thank you for that, things have been… hard for him lately, and he hasn’t had something to laugh about in a while, so he really needed that.”
“You’re welcome,” Jazz said, smiling back at Barricade. “But I did mean what I said, if you’re involved with someone or something’s going on, I’ll back off.”
“While I don’t think starting something now would be all that wise, I am enjoying your company and wouldn’t mind racing you again,” Barricade said his tone careful.
Jazz felt a little hurt that this mech that he was pretty much smitten with really wasn’t interested in actually starting something with him. But Jazz was grateful, better that the mech tell him right now that Barricade’s own situation wasn’t looking good for an actual relationship, than for Jazz to be strung along and have his spark broken. So Jazz gave Barricade a wide smile, and an honest answer, holding out his servo for the other mech to shake.
“That’s fine, mech; I wouldn’t mind racing you again either.”
===
Prowl had known that it was bound to happen sooner or later, with later being the much more preferable time. He hadn’t been putting off preparing for it, not exactly; he just didn’t want to run the calculations needed when he had other work to do. Because running calculations predicting future human behavior often gave him a processor ache with all the variables that they provided, especially when they included political agendas and the odd things that humans would fixate on.
So when Optimus Prime announced in an officer meeting that he planned on inviting a few reporters to the track to broadcast a race in order to calm human concerns about the track, sooner had come instead of later, and Prowl felt like kicking himself for not being prepared for this. Because as unpredictable and illogical as humans were, Optimus Prime was predictable, and Prowl really should have accounted for this and been prepared for the inevitability. But going over ‘should haves’ and ‘could haves’ would not be helpful in least, so instead Prowl focused on getting everything ready.
Bumblebee, Hound, and Bluestreak were in charge of keeping tabs on the human reporters and making sure that they didn’t wander away from the stands while the race was going on. Blaster was in charge of the general broadcast of the human stations. And, by Optimus’ insistence, Grapple was put in charge of being the general host for the humans, and was tasked with informing the reporters about the differences of human racetracks from Cybertronian ones.
All that was left was finding a few Autobots that wouldn’t mind racing each other for the humans to watch. It wasn’t too hard to find a few mechs willing to be put on display racing, but there were a few that simply didn’t have a choice in the matter. Which was exactly what Prowl told Jazz.
“No prob, Prowl,” Jazz said, leaning back in the chair he was seated in across from Prowl’s desk. “I was gonna ask to participate anyway, didn’t get to last time.”
“Thank you, Jazz, I trust that with you there racing as well, it will keep the others’ antics to a more acceptable level. We are after all, trying to keep the humans’ trust, not cause them to be more suspicious,” Prowl said, looking over the datapad about the live international broadcast of the race.
“So you think that having an officer race with the others is gonna make them think before they do somethin stupid?”
“Yes, that is the desired outcome,” Prowl answered, not looking up from his work, and therefore missing the sudden grin that covered Jazz’s faceplates.
“So, by that logic, having another officer racing with them would deter even Sideswipe’s more devious plans,” Jazz paused, and Prowl nodded in agreement absently. “So nice of you to agree with me Prowl, especially ‘cause I know you’re not going to be doing anything that day, which makes you the perfect officer to help keep the rest of us in line.”
Prowl looked up in shock, and then rested his helm in one servo, recognizing that he’d been had. That was the problem with organizing these politically friendly gatherings for Prime; it distracted Prowl from things that he should have been aware of happening.
“Very well, I shall participate in the broadcasted race.”
Jazz stood up and leaned on Prowl’s desk.
“So good of you to volunteer, Prowler,” Jazz teased and then walked out of Prowl’s office, the SIC’s exasperated laugh following him out.
===
“Do I even want to know what Prime did to make you agree to do this?” Sideswipe asked as they walked to the starting line.
“Prime didn’t do anything,” Prowl said, studiously ignoring the pictures that the reporters were taking, he did have a reputation of being an unfeeling aft to maintain.
Sideswipe on the other hand was eating up the attention like energon goodies, and was waving at the various cameras while talking to Prowl.
“Oh come on, Prime had to have done something to get you to agree to do this. It’s okay if you’re embarrassed, I won’t tell anyone,” Sideswipe goaded, his faceplates the picture of pure innocence.
Jazz laughed, coming up behind the two.
“Nah, Prime didn’t have to do nothing. Let’s just say that Prowler here can’t argue with my logic.”
“What?” Sideswipe turned to Prowl, his optics bright.
“He turned my own logic against me,” Prowl answered semi-mournfully and Jazz laughed harder.
"Nicely done,” Sideswipe conceded, giving Jazz a look of grudging respect as they reached the starting line. “Look at it this way Prowl; you’ll be redeeming my honor by beating him in this race.”
Prowl gave Sideswipe an unimpressed look.
“Yes, because I live to redeem your non-existent honor.”
“As you should,” Sideswipe said primly as all of the participating mechs transformed.
“It’s nice that you think Prowler actually has a chance of beating me, but I’m not losing this race,” Jazz said revving his engine.
“That’s funny, I remember more than a few mechs saying that back in Praxus,” Sideswipe snarked, causing Prowl to let out a soft chuckle.
Before Jazz had a chance to reply, Grapple spoke up and began the countdown to begin the race.
The crowd of humans and mechs in the stands were silent as Grapple counted down from 5, it was somewhat eerie, but it was all good, because they came here for a show, and the mechs racing were sure to deliver.
When Grapple reached ‘two’ silence fell over the crowd gathered.
At ‘one’ seven engines revved loudly, with the loudest being that of Optimus Prime’s.
"Start!” Grapple yelled, and seven mechs tore down the track, Sideswipe easily taking the lead but was being closely followed by Mirage.
The rest of the racers sort of fell in after them, content to bide their time, as they had 20 laps to go, which was plenty of time for Jazz to overtake both of them.
It was too bad, Jazz thought, that he wouldn’t be able to hear most of Grapple’s commentary about the race until it was over. He was sure that the architect would have a few things to say about all the hard unappreciated work that he put into the track, something that scientists would probably appreciate, but humanity’s general populace not so much. It would most likely lead to Grapple returning to the Ark and complaining to Hoist about how even another species didn’t properly appreciate his work.
Instead, Jazz focused on the feel of the specially produced Tungsten-Cybertronian beneath his wheels, enjoying the nostalgia laced freedom that racing brought him as he passed Prime and came even with Cliffjumper by the end of the first lap.
At the last turn of the second lap, Jazz slipped by Cliffjumper and came even with both Prowl and Wheeljack.
By the fourth lap, Jazz figured that what Sideswipe and Mirage were trying to simply get as much of a lead on the rest of the mechs that they could. The saboteur decided that it was high time for them to be overtaken, but Wheeljack, to Jazz’s left, was having none of that. The engineer was pretty fast in his own right, and he wasn’t about to let Jazz overtake him so easily, so as Jazz came forward, the engineer cheekily swerved close to Jazz, pressing Jazz close to the edge of the track, preventing the saboteur from getting ahead as easily.
Prowl took advantage of Wheeljack’s attention on Jazz, and came closer to Wheeljack’s rear bumper, and let loose a small pulse through his field, which caused Wheeljack to lose traction in his rear wheels, fishtailing out and allowing Prowl to overtake both Wheeljack and Jazz.
Jazz felt his spark freeze and coolant pump harder through his frame as he kept on going. That move was too familiar, way too similar to another, with the only slight differences being the different alt mode and the ease with which it was pulled off. Every mech or femme who raced on the tracks had a favorite maneuver that they preferred to use, but that one, that one Jazz had seen several times, but there was no way…
Jazz was cut off from his musing when Cliffjumper began to nudge Jazz’s back bumper, trying to catch Jazz by surprise and over steer, The black and white saboteur decided to take advantage of Wheeljack getting back into position, pulling up to be side by side to the engineer, and began to move slightly diagonally towards Wheeljack, letting his front bumper nudge Wheeljack’s out of the way and put the engineer in front of Cliffjumper. Effectively cutting the minibot off, and placing Jazz in front of Wheeljack.
Jazz was beginning to plan his next move to put himself ahead of Prowl, when his world was engulfed in a flash of bright light followed by pain.
===
Simple reflection would later tell Optimus Prime that it should have been obvious. Hindsight would show him that he could have prepared for the inevitable. But as it was, he wasn’t prepared, none of them were, and ultimately he would take the blame for not noticing the simple flaw.
Optimus had to admit, it was a good plan, even if it was bound to happen with their preoccupation with the race and human reporters. Inviting the reporters, and broadcasting the race worldwide, was an excellent way of bringing about goodwill and lowering general suspicion of them, as well as poking fun at Grapple for a bit. However it had the added problem that anyone could watch, anyone, anywhere, and as such, there was no secret as to who was where or doing what at the track. It was a deceptively easy way to gather intel and stage an attack.
“DECEPTICON ATTACK!”
Optimus Prime transformed and prepared himself for the incoming assault, watching in grim acceptance of his shortcomings, and had to admit to himself, that Megatron really knew how to turn the Prime’s allies against him.