Chapter 8!
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“Like ships in the night letting cannonballs fly
Say what you mean and it turns to a fight
Fists fly from my mouth as it turns south
You’re down the driveway
I’m on the couch”
- “Ships In The Night” - Mat Kearney
Jazz grinned as he arrived at Velocity Loop, ready to celebrate finally getting a job in Praxus. As he walked the few steps up to the track’s gate, he noticed a few shady looking mechs huddled together near the side of the building.
Admittedly, the Velocity Loop was not in the best of locations, but it was remarkably absent of any sort of criminal activity for the metacycles that Jazz had been going. To see mechs acting shady around the track was strange, to say the very least. It was enough to peak Jazz’s interest and ask Roadblock about it.
“There’s what?” Roadblock growled, and Jazz was taken aback at how angry the normally amiable mech was.
“A few mechs acting a bit shady, right around the corner,” Jazz said, and the bigger mech huffed, leaving his post.
“They won’t be for long,” Roadblock muttered, before activating his comm. line.
Jazz watched him walk away a little confused.
“He’s just gonna call the enforcers,” someone behind Jazz said, and Jazz turned around to see Backbite standing there looking irritated while watching Roadblock leave. “He and Crasher don’t like it when the enforcers pay too much attention to this place, so they do their best to keep the riff-raff out.”
Jazz looked Backbite up and down before speaking.
“Apparently they’re not doing too good a job then,” Jazz said, walking with the green mech into the track. “Seriously though, why would what Crasher thinks matter so much? It’s Roadblock’s track.”
“Crasher’s a big… investor of Velocity Loop,” Backbite explained absently, and nodded at a few of the other regulars as they walked through the stands. “And Crasher does not like enforcers.”
Jazz felt his curiosity peak, and seeing that Backbite was actually being conversational, Jazz pushed his luck.
“Why not?”
Backbite gave Jazz an unamused look.
“You’re really clueless, aren’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jazz demanded, and Backbite vented deeply as he waved Jazz off.
“Doesn’t matter. Look, Barricade’s over there, go bother him,” Backbite said, pointing at the dark colored mech. “Just stay out of trouble.”
Jazz gave Backbite a weird look, but decided that it simply was not worth the effort to push the subject, and walked over to where Barricade was sitting in the stands.
“Hey there, Cade,” Jazz purred, sitting next to his new best friend.
“Hello, Jazz,” Barricade replied, giving Jazz a curious look. “Were you and Backbite actually talking to each other?”
“Yeah,” Jazz answered frowning while he nodded. “Though I really don’t know how the two of you ended up as friends.”
“It’s a rather… involved story.”
“Oh? Care to share?”
“Not really,” Barricade said, turning to watch the racers on the track. “Perhaps some other time.”
“I’ma hold you to that mech,” Jazz told Barricade with a grin, and Barricade answered with a slight smile.
“What were you and Backbite talking about?” Barricade asked, and Jazz recognized it as an evasion, but played along.
“Crasher not being fond of enforcers,” Jazz answered, seeing no reason to hide it. “Backbite wouldn’t say why though.”
Barricade frowned before he answered. “Crasher believes that enforcer scrutiny is bad for business, by making sure that troublemakers stay away, even if it means calling the enforcers in every now and then, they ensure that their investments stay safe.”
“So Crasher still relies on enforcers to handle the ‘troublemakers’?”
“Yes, the enforcers are aware that Velocity Loop reports all troublemakers, and as such leave the track alone because it is favored by many… upstanding citizens,” Barricade explained.
Jazz’s optics brightened in surprise, because while he had met a few mecha at Velocity Loop who could be called an ‘upstanding citizen’, most of the mecha here would definitely not fit that classification.
“Is this making you reconsider your decision to keep coming here?” Barricade asked his voice careful. “No one would think it all that strange.”
It was a good point, one that Jazz’s common sense screamed at him to take. But at the same time…
“Nah, I like it here,” Jazz said, giving Barricade a bright grin. “It’s an awesome track, there are great mechs coming here, and a low crime rate? That’s pretty good. Besides, I like talking to you, and Backbite’d miss having someone to complain about.”
“I really do not think he would.”
Jazz laughed, and Barricade shook his helm, smiling.
“So did you come here to race?”
“Came here to celebrate,” Jazz corrected, and Barricade gave him a surprised look.
“You got the job then,” Barricade said and Jazz nodded. “Congratulations. Come on, I’m slated in the next race, we can celebrate that way.”
“Sounds good, my mech,” Jazz replied, his grin wide as he followed Barricade down to the racers’ entrance.
===
Jazz’s processor was reeling with the new information that he had learned, overheard by complete accident as he had been walking down a hallway. Information that he had been looking for vorns upon vorns, until he had to finally drop it, because those who had had the answers were dead. Then he walked down a hallway, hundreds of thousands of vorns later, on a different planet, and with that little extra clue, everything he knew and had noticed over the vorns - from back then in Praxus to now on Earth - clicked into place, and made infuriating sense.
And not only did it bring light to the subject, it brought back all of the questions that had remained unanswered for a lifetime, it brought back everything that Jazz had long since pushed back in his mind in a folder clearly labeled “Do Not Open”.
And Prowl, the stoic tactician that Jazz had counted as a friend for most of the war, and been in love with at least half that time, knew. He knew and had likely been very involved in what had happened in Praxus, and given what all the little bits of information added up to, Jazz knew exactly what part Prowl had played. This left two possible ways for Jazz to deal with his new knowledge: moving on or confrontation.
Not talking and ignoring what he had learned was not an option in this, Jazz had waited too long for the answers that he was due. Confrontation was the only way to get them.
So Jazz waited, patient, to initiate a conversation that needed to happen. He was above being needlessly cruel, and this was a conversation that was centuries in the making. It could wait a few more days for Bluestreak to be released from the medbay, so Prowl would not be distracted by worry and could pay 100 percent of his attention to the subject.
Jazz would not accept anything less in this.
But being decided on a course of action did not stop the conspiracies and theories from filling his processor as he wondered why. It did not stop either the anger or the hurt.
===
Prowl was relieved when he was able to walk his brother the short distance from the medbay to the younger mech’s room. Bluestreak’s injuries had not been life threatening, only painful and a somewhat more involved repair, but finally seeing Bluestreak well and in one piece was reassuring.
Bluestreak bid Prowl goodnight at his door, and went inside to get some recharge to properly integrate his repairs. Satisfied, Prowl turned to walk to his own quarters, and barely stopped himself from jumping at the sight of Jazz lurking nearby.
“Jazz?” Prowl asked, and Jazz moved away from the wall he was leaning on and approached Prowl.
“Got some time to talk?” It was not a question.
“Yes,” Prowl said, his voice calm and hiding his confusion. Jazz seemed irritated, and Prowl could not think of a reason why the saboteur would be. “Professional or personal?”
“Personal, but I’d prefer to talk in your office,” Jazz answered, his voice flat, and his lipplates in tight line.
“Very well.”
Prowl led the way to his office his processor racing over what could possibly create this sort of reaction from Jazz. He could not come up with a single reason that could be classified as personal.
More than a little concerned about what was bothering a close friend, Prowl input the code for his office door, motioning Jazz to go in.
Jazz went in the room, Prowl following him in and shutting the door.
“Jazz?”
“We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we, Prowl?” Jazz asked, his voice was light, with an undercurrent of something that Prowl did not recognize. Something that felt off to Prowl in a way that was sending off warnings in his processor.
“Yes, we’ve been acquainted for most of the war,” Prowl said, his words careful, not liking that he did not know what had brought Jazz to him in this sort of mood. “I’d like to think that we’re friends.”
Jazz gave a noncommittal hum, his visor trained on the wall, as if he had not cared if Prowl had actually answered or not. The saboteur was quiet for a minute before he spoke, “Ya know, I heard you and Sunstreaker talkin in the hall the other night.”
Prowl was unprepared for the random turn of conversation. “Well, yes, we do converse occasionally,” Prowl said, and then paused before continuing, “Though I am unsure of why one particular conversation would be all that important for you to eavesdrop on.”
Jazz turned his helm to look straight into Prowl’s optics, his lipplates set into a tight line.
“You mentioned someone I used to know in Praxus.” Jazz answered, cutting straight to the point, and Prowl felt his energon lines grow cold. “Specifically, the two of ya were talking about something being done once Crasher had been arrested.”
Prowl struggled for an answer, any answer that would stop this conversation from going any further than it already had. “As an enforcer, I was involved in the arrest of many criminals in Praxus,” Prowl replied, and normally that would have been enough, but Jazz’s lipplates just curled into a snarl.
“Yeah, I thought that too at first,” Jazz said and Prowl saw the other’s servos clench in fists, “but then I got to thinkin, that while Crasher did deserve that sentence, some things just wouldn’t add up about your involvement in it. You were a small fry then, and, from the sound of what you told Sunny, you were pretty involved in the case, not something you see a junior officer get involved in. And then your racing is way too similar for it to just be coincidence -”
“Jazz, you are mistaken.” Prowl interrupted, but Jazz ignored him, and continued on as if he had not heard the tactician.
“And I knew, I just knew that an enforcer had to be involved from the inside somewhere, because none of that ever really added up,” Jazz paused and gave a hollow laugh before continuing, ““Which left me with two theories, you were one of the ones involved in the framing of an at least somewhat innocent mech, which given what I know about you, unlikely. Or - and I’ll bet my spark on this one - you were the undercover enforcer, Barricade.”
It was silent for a minute, Jazz’s frame going lax, his vents loud, as Prowl’s thoughts whirled, trying to think, to explain everything.
“Jazz…” Prowl began, but stopped when it occurred to him, that there was nothing that he could say.
It was enough of a cue for Jazz to act.
“Did you think it was funny?” Jazz demanded, his entire frame tensing once again, glaring at Prowl. The tactician recoiled away, surprised at the violent burst of outrage from the normally cool Jazz. “To walk around these halls, acting as my friend, pretending what went on in Praxus had never happened?”
“Jazz, I -”
“No,” Jazz snarled, cutting Prowl off, his fists shaking. “No, I don’t want to hear it. In fact I don’t want you to ever talk to me again outside of work.”
“I… understand,” Prowl said, his voice quiet and his doorwings lowered submissively, “Outside of work, I will leave you alone.”
Jazz’s servos raised opening and closing before he said, “Good,” turned and stormed out of the room.
Prowl watched Jazz leave, and once the door was shut behind the saboteur, Prowl leaned on his desk, and, not for the first time, cursed the case that had created this entire mess to begin with.
And he cursed his part in it all as well.
===
Sideswipe was grinning, walking down the hall with his brother, still chuckling over something stupid that Smokescreen had said back in the rec room.
Their overall good mood ended abruptly upon entering their quarters and seeing Prowl there, sitting on a chair with a cube of their contraband high grade in his hand.
From the look of things, it wasn’t his first either.
“What happened?” Sunstreaker demanded, straight to the point, alarm rising over their twin bond. The only thing that either of them could think of that would drive Prowl to drink in excess would be Bluestreak, but last time they had checked, he was recharging in his own berth and completely fine, something Ratchet would not allow if there was something wrong.
Prowl’s overly bright optics looked them over for a bit, before shaking his head.
“I made a mistake.”
Sideswipe relaxed a little, and moved further into his room, took a seat on his berth and gave Prowl a small smile.
“Must be pretty bad if you’re in here drinking our high grade.”
“Seeing as how the situation is all over a lose-lose scenario, coming in here to drink your high grade was a better idea than going to my quarters alone and staring at the ceiling attempting to recharge,” Prowl answered, taking another sip, and Sideswipe nodded understanding, somewhat.
The red mech accepted the cube of high grade Sunstreaker handed him, if Prowl came here to drink, the least they could do was be good drinking buddies.
“Still thinking it was a good idea now?” Sunstreaker asked, sitting down on his own berth, on the other side of Prowl across from Sideswipe.
“Yes, though if you ask me tomorrow, the answer is likely to change because of the hangover,” Prowl said, and Sideswipe laughed softly.
It was silent for the next breem or so, the mechs sipping their high grade, content with the quiet, though in Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s case, they were biding their time.
“You wanna talk about what’s driving you to drink?” Sideswipe asked, his tone careful as he swished the high grade around in his cube.
“No,” Prowl replied, his tone flat, and then looked contrite as he glanced up at the twins. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”
“It’s just one of those things you don’t want to talk about,” Sunstreaker said, and Prowl nodded. “We can understand that.”
“Thank you,” Prowl said his optics diming a little. He then began to stand. “I should probably go.”
“Sit. Stay.” Sunstreaker commanded, pushing Prowl to sit back down.
“You’ve stuck around us during our drunken stupors after what happened in Praxus,” Sideswipe explained, leaning back on his berth. “We can do the same for you.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s the least we can do; you’re a brother to us after all.”
Prowl smiled at them. “I am honored that you consider me as such. I will always regret some things, but never my decision to help you.”
Sideswipe watched as Prowl’s doorwings lowered a bit before the older mech knocked back the rest of his cube of high grade, and then reached for another one.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged worried looks, and then Sideswipe decided to lighten up the moment.
“Regret, huh? This mean you regret not redeeming my honor yet?”
Prowl gave Sideswipe a confused look.
“Your honor?”
“Yeah,” Sideswipe said, mentally cheering himself on for distracting the mech. “For losing that race to Jazz.”
Prowl’s doorwings twitched in a way that would have been subtle on Bluestreak, but on Prowl was a bright red flag that Sideswipe said the wrong thing.
~You have a talent for pressing people’s buttons when you’re not even trying to, Sideswipe, ~ Sunstreaker told Sideswipe over their bond, and Sideswipe gave an uneasy smile in return.
~At least we know part of why he’s here. ~
“Prowl,” Sunstreaker began, his voice quiet as he set his cube on the table, “what did Jazz say to you that has you in here drinking yourself to oblivion?”
Prowl hung his helm. “He found out about Barricade.”
Sideswipe scowled. “So? Who cares if he found out about Barricade, that was centuries ago, and -”
“Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker growled, warning the red mech to stop, but Sideswipe did not care.
“HE WAS GOING TO RUIN EVERYTHING!”
Sunstreaker opened his mouth to respond, but Prowl beat him there.
“Sideswipe is correct, Sunstreaker,” Prowl said, sounding exhausted, rubbing a hand down his faceplate. “However, it no longer matters, because Jazz has informed me that outside of a professional capacity, I am not to contact him.”
Sideswipe stared at Prowl, bewildered, and unable to form the words to respond.
“That’s why you’re in here drinking? Because Jazz won’t talk to you?” Sunstreaker asked and then snorted derisively when Prowl nodded. “Then he’s not worth the time of day if he can’t -”
“You misunderstand,” Prowl said cutting Sunstreaker off. “Jazz has every right to be angry with me, because I have deceived him the entire time I’ve known him, both when I was acting as Barricade and now that he knows me as Prowl by refusing to acknowledge the past that we had.”
“But why’s it so important?” Sunstreaker demanded, and Prowl gave them a small pained smile.
“Because I loved Jazz as Barricade, and I love him now.”
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shared the same thought as the situation became clear with that tidbit.
Fuck.
Sunstreaker put his cube down, and cut Prowl off from drinking more, working to get the tactician back to his own berth to recharge in.
Once alone in his quarters, Sideswipe began to plot, because, as much of a wrench in the plans as Jazz was, the entire situation could easily be blamed on the twins. Prowl had fixed things for them, so Sideswipe would fix this as best he could for the enforcer.
When Sunstreaker came back into their room, he stood by the door after it had closed.
“Think we can fix this?”
“We’re sure as frag gonna try,” Sideswipe said, giving his twin a weak smile. “Prowl deserves to be happy.”