... *hides*
Title: Shadowland
'Verse: Shattered Glass Transformers.
Characters: Cliffjumper. SG!Sideswipe. SG!Starscream. Jazz. Prowl. SG!Prowl. SG!Jazz. SG!Bluestreak.
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Possibly disturbing content. This is not a happy fic.
Notes: Written to get the bunny the frag away from headspace.
He paced the floor of the room the Decepticons had allocated to him, trying to sort out his thoughts. While he’d mostly accepted that the ‘Cons in this world were not the ones he’d known, and that things were very different here, Cliffjumper still had moments of… difficulty. And this was one of them. The Starscream from this dimension had come to him late one cycle, a datapad in one hand and a cube of highgrade in the other. The red minibot took one look at the jet’s expression and had known the flier bore ill news.
He wasn’t disappointed.
There was no way for him to go back home. The Decepticons couldn’t begin to figure out how he got here in the first place.
“Cliffjumper?”
He looked up at a teal green Sideswipe, trying to keep his inner turmoil from being too obvious. He didn’t know why he bothered. Sideswipe usually saw through it anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Thundercracker reported some energy readings out in the Rad Zone that were similar to what we got off you, and Starscream will be heading out to get a closer look. Megatron wants you to go with him. Maybe you’ll pick up something we don’t. And frag, we’ll see if we can’t get you home.”
“What?!”
Sideswipe was already moving, and Cliffjumper bolted after him, spark pulsing with a mixture of dread and hope.
= = =
All things considered, Cliffjumper supposed he should have expected this to happen. But hindsight is twenty/twenty, as they say, and running Earth slang through his processors really wasn’t going to help the situation.
Actually…
“Jazz.”
Hearing his designation in English made the visored mech look up at him, just as Starscream snapped in standard Cybertronian. “What did you say to the Autobot and why on Cybertron do you seem to think he’ll listen to you?!”
“Calm down, Starscream. That’s the Jazz from my world. Looks like we’ve got another visitor.” The red mech sighed. The jet grumbled.
“Alright, so you know each other. All well and good, but I’ve still got a blaster in my neck cables here.”
Cliffjumper nodded, and spoke to the black and white mech perched atop the flier. “Right. Jazz? Please let Starscream go. I can explain.”
A hurried conversation in English (and various common Earth languages) later, Jazz let Starscream up off the ground. The Ops mech’s expression was still wary, and the flier cycled air in frustration.
“Look, I mean you no harm, alright? In any case, two to one, or one seeker to one mech if Cliffjumper here decided to stay out of it, aren’t very good odds, you realise.”
Jazz smirked, straightening from his guarded stance, lowering his weapon far too easily for a cornered Ops bot.
“Well, then it’s a good thing I didn’t come alone, hm?”
Starscream stalled at the mech’s drawl, then pivoted sharply to see another black and white mech step into view, calmly staring him down, missile launchers targeted at the jet.
= = =
Jazz would never have predicted what happened next. The strange, differently coloured Seeker that Cliffjumper insisted was Starscream lunged to put himself between Prowl and the minibot, weapons up and pointed at the doorwinged mech. And judging from Cliffjumper’s expression, he hadn’t quite expected that either. But the flier was tense, practically vibrating with apprehension as the chevroned mech frowned and stepped forward.
“No closer!” Starscream barked, and Prowl raised an optic ridge.
“You say we’re safe from you, and yet your actions would imply otherwise.”
“I don’t know how you found us, but we’re gonna send you packing back to Optimus.”
“Starscream. That’s Prowl.” Cliffjumper tried, and the jet growled back at him.
“No slag it’s Prowl. Are you out of your processors, Cliffjumper?”
Biting back a laugh, Jazz interrupted. “What he means is; that’s the Prowl both ‘Jumper and I know. He came with me through the portal thing.”
Starscream stared, and Cliffjumper huffed, marching over to the puzzled tactician, followed by the Ops mech. The red minibot jabbed a finger at the law enforcement decals on the doorwinged frame. “Look at his fragging markings, Starscream. Does that look like Cybertronian to you?”
“Starscream! Are you alright?! We got your message and- Oops.”
Skywarp appearing startled the two black and white mechs into targeting him instead, and he backed away from the pair slowly.
“Oh, you must be Cliffjumper’s Prowl and Jazz. I presume you’re the weird energy readings we were picking up earlier then. Good to meet you, CJ here was getting lonely.”
The other flier rebooted his audios, then his optics. Next he grabbed Skywarp’s wing and yanked him further away from the mechs currently staring at him like he had a second head.
“How do you know they’re not the Prowl and Jazz we know?”
“Well, because they’re standing next to each other while Prime’s in Iacon, far, far away, just how we like him, and they’re not trying to kill each other.” Skywarp shrugged, and Starscream blinked at him again.
“… Good point.”
= = =
They’d just agreed to continue the explanations back in Polyhex where it was safer when Prowl stilled, lifting his head to peer into the distance, doors swivelling as if to pick up on some faint sound. Jazz turned in the same direction, optics going wide behind his visor when he identified the noise.
“Scatter!”
They scattered just as a missile impacted where they were standing a moment earlier, Starscream scooping up Cliffjumper and taking to the air with Skywarp, ignoring the red mech’s protests, while Prowl and Jazz transformed and sped away, ducking more blasts in the process.
One found its mark, sending the Ops mech flipping end over end into the air before he landed with a painful crash. Prowl skidded to a halt, transforming and darting over to Jazz’s side. The visored mech had also shifted back to root mode, and as the tactician tried to lift him, Jazz shook his head.
“You won’t be able to escape with me dragging you down.”
“They’ll get you.” The chevroned mech growled back, not letting go of the other bot. The Porsche grabbed hold of a white hand to pull it off his frame, tone insistent.
“That’s why you’ve got to get away, Prowler. I’m an Ops mech, I can stand whatever they’ll do to me. But I’m gonna be depending on you to get me out. Now go.”
Jazz shoved the startled tactician back, straight into a just materialised Skywarp’s arms, tumbling them both backwards and under the cover of a pile of scrap. The last thing he saw was Prowl trying to get free of the jet and to him, then there was shouting and mocking laughter and more pain as everything grew dark and he fell offline.
= = =
Megatron suppressed the shudder that wanted to take hold of his frame when he met the alternate Prowl from Cliffjumper’s dimension. The mech had been silent when Skywarp and Starscream had returned to Polyhex with him and Cliffjumper, the look in his optics one that spoke of a bot sorting through a myriad of plans and schemes, desperately trying to find a suitable course of action.
“Prowl, was it?”
That gaze turned on him, and he did shudder, just a little. The Prowl he was familiar with had a… reputation, and while Cliffjumper had assured him this Prowl was nothing like the one Megatron knew, the physical similarities were still more than enough to make his ember flutter uneasily.
“We will do all we can to get your friend back.”
This Prowl flicked doorwings briefly, before nodding once and returning to the schematics he had laid out before him. Megatron watched him work, filling in the blank spaces on the blueprints that Soundwave’s cassettes hadn’t managed (or had been ordered not to risk their lives) to map, then left, somehow feeling strangely inadequate.
= = =
He hung, limp in his restraints as the mech paced a slow, languid circle about his helpless frame, unable to muster the energy to even flinch from his interrogator’s careful touches. A low voice murmured into his audios, the words sinking into his processors even as he tried to ignore them.
“I know every bolt and circuit of your frame, Jazz. All its weaknesses. You will not remain unbroken, I will find out how you entered our world. The only thing yet to be determined is when. Perhaps, if you are amusing enough, I might be inclined to delay my doing so a little longer.”
Then the black and white form moved away from him, and the face of a trusted colleague came into his line of sight, black chevroned and lit with anticipation.
“I do hope you will hold out a little longer than the last bot to entertain me, Jazz.”
The saboteur spat at the red opticked mech, prompting an amused chuckle from the bot.
“Rust in the Pit, Prowl.”
= = =
Cliffjumper folded his arms, glaring at the black and white mech still sorting through plans and schematics. “Look, you need to take a break. You’re gonna fritz if you keep up this pace, and then where will Jazz be?”
Prowl barely spared him a glance, calmly explaining. “I don’t have much time. As you know, the means by which you, Jazz and I arrived here is rather unstable. The Autobots will initiate another connection to this world soon, and if we are not there to pass through…”
The tactician paused briefly, then continued. “I do not know when they will be able to make another attempt. If they even do so.”
“How soon?” The minibot queried, and Prowl sighed.
“If my calculations are correct, slightly over a decacycle.”
“Slag.”
= = =
It was cold in his cell. Though Jazz supposed that might be due to his systems going haywire from the damage he’d taken. The other Prowl had been true to his word, toying with him, making him scream again and again until his vocaliser had started to smoke. The fragger hadn’t even bothered asking him any questions. Then the mech had dropped him unceremoniously into this vacant cell, telling him to ‘be good and stay there’ until he returned to ‘continue the fun’.
The door slid open, and he couldn’t help it. Jazz cringed, and then gasped when gentle hands tilted his helm upwards. He onlined his optics, and nearly cried out in relief. Blue optics and a red chevron. His Prowl.
“Prowler.” He’d be damned if he used the other fragger’s name right now. Prowl helped him to stand, then supported him as they exited the cell.
“Come on, Jazz. Let’s get out of here.”
= = =
//Jazz! Jazz!//
//What is it, glitch?//
//You’ll never guess! The prisoner, you know, the one that’s actually you?//
//Don’t remind me, Ricochet. The twisted fragger that calls itself our tactician’s been rubbing that pile of scrap in my faceplates ever since it landed in our base. What about him?//
//Prowl’s just busted him out of the cells! It’s on the vids and everything! He didn’t even bother to make it look like it was the ‘Cons doing it, just keyed in the codes and opened the door. You’ve got him good now!//
//You idiot! Prowl’s in here with Prime and me!//
Not bothering to listen to his brother’s stunned response, Prime’s bodyguard cut off the communication and interrupted the discussion his leader was having with the black and white Praxian.
“Prime, we have a situation. Seems like my alternate self has a friend. One that looks like our tactician here. They’ve broken out and are escaping.”
“How troublesome. I trust you will be able to handle this, Jazz?”
“Yes sir.”
He saluted, then shot a glaring Prowl a malicious grin before leaving to hunt down their doppelgangers. Revenge would be sweet.
= = =
Leaving the cells behind had been easy, but Jazz’s injuries were catching up with him and soon they had to stop to rest. The visored mech panted, intakes sounding laboured, and Prowl cast a worried look at the other black and white.
“Jazz, I’m sorry, but we have to move now.”
“I know. S’not your fault.” He sighed, visor flickering. “Let’s go.”
The doorwinged mech moved to support him again, but movement at the edge of his visual field had the tactician putting Jazz at his back, doors flared protectively over the saboteur as two more mechs joined them.
Then he froze, optics wide and horrified. Behind the black and white form of his double was a grey one. The other Prowl noted his reaction with interest.
“I suppose you have one in your dimension too. And from the looks of it, I would be inclined to speculate that you were close to this mech’s alternate self.” A white hand stroked the grey Praxian’s cheek, and the other Prowl didn’t bother concealing his delight at his red chevroned double’s expression.
“You’ll be happy to learn that things are the same way here. Bluestreak is my personal guard. Though he did require a little… taking to hand. He’s a wonderfully obedient mech now, a far cry from the wild youngling he was when I first came across him.”
Prowl couldn’t look away, even as Jazz hissed at him to move. The other Prowl petted the other Bluestreak on the helm, the grey mech’s blank expression not changing one bit, before the black and white mech curled a malevolent smile at his counterpart.
“Bluestreak. Deal with them.”
Jazz grabbed hold of Prowl and ran.
= = =
They fled through the building, along hauntingly familiar corridors, avoiding the cameras with ease. Behind them the sound of pedefalls faded, and they ducked into a storage chamber, Jazz dropping to his knees, trying his best to regulate his systems while recovering from fleeing with severe injuries. Prowl watched the entrance, faceplates grim. The visored mech coughed, and the sickening sound of energon splattering to the floor had the doorwinged bot turning to him in concern. When Jazz didn’t wave him off, Prowl drew closer, carefully helping the mech lean back against the wall.
“Frag.”
The visored mech sighed, and the tactician was minded to agree. Their respite was cut short by the looming presence of a grey form in the doorway. Prowl was immediately between the incapacitated Ops bot and the other Bluestreak, but the mech only gestured for them to follow him. With nothing left to lose, Prowl slipped an arm under Jazz’s, and together they trailed haltingly after the silent mech.
When Bluestreak stopped, uncovering a dark opening in the corridor, the tactician glanced at it, then back to the unnervingly silent bot.
“You’re letting us go?”
A nod.
“Why?”
A shake of the head, and a brief, hesitant glance at the black and white mech. Then Bluestreak reached out to him, almost wistfully. Prowl stalled, then settled Jazz against the wall before moving a little closer.
“… You can’t talk?”
Bluestreak tilted his head up and aside and Prowl’s intakes caught. Behind the cruel looking collar that the mech wore were damaged cables, and what looked like a crushed vocaliser.
“… I did this.”
Bluestreak shook his head again, taking hold of a white hand to press it lightly against the shattered components, then against his cheek as he traced Prowl’s red chevron. A faint, tinny whine sounded, and the grey mech shuttered his optics, pressing into Prowl’s hand.
“Bluestreak.”
The mech’s optics flashed online at Prowl’s distressed tone, and he curled against the other Praxian, shaking ever so slightly, before pulling away and pointing at the gap.
“What about you?”
A shrug, and the two black and white mechs were quickly shoved into the hole. Then the only light was that of their optics as the opening was sealed up. With no other options left to them, the two black and whites slowly felt their way down the passage, hoping that they wouldn’t end up in more trouble on the other side.
After an excruciatingly long time in the darkness, they emerged in the Rad Zone. The area was deserted, but neither of them trusted it would stay that way for long.
Jazz looked at Prowl, silently asking where they were headed next. The tactician cast about, then pointed, and they started to limp in that direction. A dark speck in the distance had the doorwinged mech stashing his friend behind what cover he could find, but their luck held.
“There you are! Megatron’s going spare. C’mon, let’s get you two back to base.”
= = =
“Did they escape, Bluestreak?”
A silent nod, and a black chevroned mech smiled.
“Very good. Let’s see how Jazz gets himself out of this one.”
= = =
Jazz onlined from his repairs to find blue optics flickering at him tiredly, prompting the visored mech to ask in exasperation.
“Prowler, have you recharged at all?”
The tactician looked away, doors resting listlessly, and the Ops mech sighed.
“Right, since you refuse to go offline, put that battle computer of yours to use and figure out something for me.” The doorwinged mech eyed Jazz’s innocent grin, and the saboteur blithely ignored the suspicious look to carry on with his question.
“So… if this Sideswipe is good and on the side of the ‘Cons, and pretty much almost everything here is backwards-land compared to what we know, does that mean our Sideswipe is…?”
“I already know that our Sideswipe is the spawn of Unicron, Jazz.” Prowl vented air as if aggravated, but he smiled and Jazz counted it as a victory.
“I guess you would, what with all the chaos Sides’ causes just by standing still and cycling air.”
“Huh, what chaos?” Both black and whites looked up to see two mechs, one teal and one red, standing in the doorway. Jazz grinned.
“I dunno ‘bout you, but your counterpart in our world is a bit of a trouble maker.”
“I never took you for one to understate things, Jazz.”
“You’ve spent almost every vorn we’ve known each other telling me to tone it down, and now you want me to do otherwise? Prowler, if you ever have sparklings, they’re gonna be the most confused little bots the world will ever see.”
“I only ask that you state the facts accurately, instead of including all the hyperbole that seems to be a constant in your manner. Some of your reports are so exaggerated, they might as well have been written by an author of fiction.”
“Come on, a little livening up never hurt anyone. And you like reading my hyperbole, admit it. My reports are the only interesting ones you get.”
Sideswipe was turning from one mech to the other, expression growing increasingly bewildered. Cliffjumper took pity on him and interrupted them by clearing his vocaliser.
“Well, Hook actually sent us in to check on you two, but if you’re bickering then you must be doing alright.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Prowler’s not. Glitch won’t recharge.” The saboteur muttered.
Sideswipe spoke up, still sounding off kilter. “He does look like slag. Should we get Hook in here then?”
The red minibot snorted. “Sideswipe, I’ve seen Prowl defy the Ratchet in my dimension. Trust me. This Hook’s not going to be able to make him do anything.”
= = =
Cliffjumper and Sideswipe left soon after, and Jazz watched the chevroned mech seated by his berth, Prowl’s thought processes clearly going nowhere good. He cycled air tiredly; the last few cycles had been no picnic for the saboteur. His injuries had almost sent Scrapper and Hook into hysterics, and had sent this world’s version of Shockwave off to regain control himself before the one opticked mech would speak to anyone again.
“Credit for your thoughts, Prowler.”
Startled, the tactician looked at him, taking in the network of welds that littered the Porsche’s frame. He reached out to Jazz, then held back, dropping his hands to his lap, fists clenched.
“It is… disturbing… to know that I am capable of this.” The chevroned mech’s tone was blank, and he turned his optics to the berth Jazz was lying on. There was a sigh, then black hands were covering Prowl’s white ones, holding them tightly before sliding up to wrap arms around the doorwinged mech’s frame, stilling tremors Prowl hadn’t even been aware of. A visor glinted close to his faceplates as Jazz murmured.
“You’re not him, Prowler. Never will be.”
Prowl didn’t answer, trying to break away from the saboteur’s hold. Jazz held on, and the tactician started when the other mech yanked him down onto the berth, pushing and shoving until the Ops mech could lay his helm on the chevroned mech’s shoulder.
“… What are you doing?”
“Getting some recharge in the safest place in this world.”
The tactician fell silent. As Jazz’s systems quieted, he brushed his fingers gently over the mech’s dark helm with a whisper.
“Rest well, Jazz.”
Eventually, lulled by the steady hum of the other mech’s intakes, Prowl’s optics dimmed too.
= = =
“Prowl? Jazz?”
“Yes Shockwave?”
“I apologise for imposing during your convalescence, but could I enlist your assistance with a tactical matter regarding the Autobots of this world?”
The visored mech could sense the other black and white going even more still, which was an accomplishment, considering how Prowl usually was. He protested.
“Wait a moment… We’re not like… them, y’know. If you’re looking for insights into their minds, we’re not going to be much help.”
“I realise that. You are different from the Jazz of this world, just as Cliffjumper is different from the one we were once familiar with. I worked with your Prowl on your extraction from Iacon, and I must say he is nothing like the mech who shares his designation in this plane. His plans aim to preserve the lives of his charges. As for the other…
“Even Prime endeavours to reign in his tactician. The mech crafts his strategies with little regard for the ones who must carry them out, the ends his only consideration, and what his true ends are few have been able to divine. To try and predict your counterparts’ next move based on the individuals that you are would be like trying to solve a mathematical equation with the colour green.”
The Ops mech frowned, then turned to the silent mech beside him.
“Prowler?”
A look and a flicker of doorwings, before Prowl glanced back at Shockwave.
“What do you need from us?”
= = =
They found Bluestreak in even worse condition than Jazz had been in. Sideswipe carried the grey mech into the Decepticon base, Rumble and Frenzy scrambling about picking up the pieces that fell off in the teal mech’s dash for the med bay. The Ops mech was getting examined by Hook when Sidswipe charged in, optics bright with urgency, and the medic was immediately on his pedes with a startled exclamation, hurrying the frontliner and his burden over to an operating table.
“Slag. Prowler can’t see him like this.” Sideswipe looked at the grim expression on Jazz’s faceplates, and the visored bot sighed. “Right, I’m gonna keep the mech away from medical as long as I can. Hopefully, he won’t hear about this until Bluestreak’s all patched up.”
That plan was dashed the moment the saboteur reached the med bay doors. Prowl stood at the entrance, optics focused on the grey form bleeding out under Hook and Scrapper’s frantic attempts to keep him alive, and headed straight for Bluestreak, heedless of Jazz’s attempt to restrain him. The grey Praxian in turn seemed to know that the black and white mech was at his side, because red optics flickered online, and a harsh grinding noise issued from the battered Autobot.
A grey hand reached out, and Prowl wordlessly took it, only to reboot his optics when Bluestreak let go immediately, falling back, optics dark. Some alarm shrieked and Scrapper barked into his comm. Jazz moved closer, and when Prowl didn’t move, staring at the objects in his hand, the visored mech gently guided him out of the med bay.
= = =
Megatron came across them in the corridor, Soundwave and his cassettes with him. The Decepticon leader paused, then indicated that the two black and whites should join him in the next room. The tapeplayer sent his symbiotes into the med bay with the parts of Bluestreak they’d gathered, then followed the three.
“Jazz, Prowl…” The large mech began, only for the tactician to address his friend instead.
“Jazz. Look at this.”
The Ops mech looked, and with a startled oath, picked up one of the broken objects. Turning it over in his hands, he muttered.
“Looks like a transmitter, with a fragging mic, and shielded to boot. Slag, we were bugged.”
“There are two of these devices. I think Bluestreak was supposed to plant them on us, but he didn’t.”
“So we were released intentionally.”
“It is the logical conclusion.”
“Could be why Bluestreak’s in pieces in the ‘Con’s med bay. He disobeyed orders.”
“Possibly, he could also be another attempt at establishing a plant.”
“I know. But he destroyed the things. So whatever game that Prowl was planning, Bluestreak’s not playing any more.”
Their discussion went on, and Megatron could only look on in astonishment. Catching Soundwave’s gaze, he shook his head.
“If this is what they’re capable of when working together, then I am most glad the ones in this world would rather walk into the Prime’s smelting pools before doing the same.”
Soundwave only nodded.
= = =
“Y’know. If I came online in the med bay to find Prowl hovering over me, I’d be across the room so fast; my shadow’d have to play catch up.”
Jazz looked away from the sight of a black and white mech talking quietly to a grey one and up at Sideswipe, grinning faintly.
“Yeah, I can see why you’d feel that way. The fragger’s a piece of work alright.”
The teal mech nodded, and there was a long pause before he spoke again.
“Hey.”
“Yes, Sideswipe?”
“Take Bluestreak with you when you go. He doesn’t need to be here.”
Across the room, two pairs of doorwings twitched, and Bluestreak’s vocaliser made a protesting noise as he shook his head violently. Sideswipe stepped forward, tone insistent.
“He’ll be hunting you!”
The grey Praxian pointed at the floor, as if to say that here was where he belonged.
“Blue’, you got me out of there, let me help you this time.”
Still mending, Bluestreak’s voice was scratchy and halting, but his determination was obvious.
“Stay… here. Th-is… home.”
= = =
The red minibot tracked them down them late in the decacycle.
“Hey ‘Jumper. Lemme guess, you wanna stay.” The saboteur’s expression was resigned, and Cliffjumper sighed.
“I know I have a duty to the ‘Bots on our side, but these ‘Cons saved me. And they need me. We were doing well enough before I landed here, right? Primus, it’s a selfish thing to ask, I know.”
“It will be your choice, Cliffjumper. We cannot force you to return with us.” Prowl spoke now, tone even and neutral. The smaller mech groaned.
“Look, I haven’t made a decision yet, ‘kay?”
“It’s alright, ‘Jumper. We’ve got another two cycles before we head out to the Rad Zone to wait for our ride back.”
“Frag, not a lot of time to think. Slagging ponderous.” He made to leave, and stopped in his tracks at Jazz’s parting remark.
“Whatever you choose, mech, it’ll be okay with us.”
The red mech nodded, then turned and left the pair alone.
= = =
“So, have you decided?”
“Not yet, Sideswipe.”
“What are you gonna do then? They’re heading out this cycle, I’m running escort duty.”
“Go with them to the portal, and hope I can make a choice by then.”
= = =
Watching the silent grey mech accompanying them to where the gateway to their own dimension was supposed to open, Jazz couldn’t help but shiver a little. It felt wrong, somehow, though he supposed that was how it had been for all the bots he and Prowl had interacted with this past decacycle.
Suddenly, something exploded in front of him, making his swerve sharply to one side. More mines went off and he heard someone cry out, the blast must have hit at least one of them. The saboteur could no longer tell where Prowl, Cliffjumper or Sideswipe were, but he could see Bluestreak dashing to stand in front of him.
“Bluestreak?”
Then he spotted the black chevroned mech sauntering towards them, and no more explanation was needed.
“You.”
“Me. Did you miss me, Jazz?”
The visored mech didn’t bother dignifying that with an answer. Bluestreak’s weapon was aimed at the approaching black and white mech, and the other Prowl smirked.
“Going to shoot me, Bluestreak? You can’t, you know. You could never hurt me. No matter what I do to you, because then you’d be all alone again, just like before.”
The grey mech whimpered, and the other Prowl chuckled.
“I’m the only one who gives so much as a damn about you, Bluestreak. No one else cares. Why would they? You’re useless to them. But not to me, isn’t that right?”
Bluestreak’s gun dipped, and he backed away from the advancing mech, shaking his head in mute denial. Jazz snarled.
“Yeah, right. That’s why you left him to die out here.”
Prowl laughed, the sound almost good natured, sending chills deep into the Ops mech’s spark. “Come now, Jazz. I take better care of what’s mine than that. How do you think I found your little group? I always know where my things are.”
And before the visored bot could react, the black chevroned mech drew a blaster and shot him.
= = =
Cliffjumper struggled to right himself, gyros and circuits all thrown off kilter when he’d been pushed out of the way by Sideswipe. Stumbling over to the teal mech, he found Prowl already there, checking the ex-Autotbot over with a practiced optic.
“Is he?”
“He’s not dead. Thank Primus for lead plated frontliner armour and helms.”
Sideswipe coughed. “Huh. You’re into that Primus thing that CJ was telling us about too?”
Prowl blinked at him, and Cliffjumper shrugged. “They haven’t heard about Primus. Though with everything here being the other way ‘round, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that Unicron’s the one that’s all goodness and light instead.”
“Primus. Unicron. Where the frag do you get all these names from, Cliffjumper?”
“Just stand up already, Sides. We’ve got to get back to Jazz and Bluestreak.”
= = =
Jazz hit the ground, clutching his side as energon dribbled from his newly acquired injury. The other Prowl eyed him disinterestedly, then looked at Bluestreak.
“Kill him. Go on. I’ve even made it easier for you.”
The other doorwinged mech shook his head again, and Prowl sighed. Then, tone sharp and demanding, the black and white Praxian snapped.
“Kill the mech, Bluestreak. Now.”
The grey bot keened, frame trembling as he tried to fight off the urge to obey the mech’s command. He dropped to his knees, pointing his gun at Prowl, who only looked amused at the other mech’s actions.
“Honestly, Bluestreak. What did I just say? You won’t kill me. You can’t.”
“N-ot… you. But… ca-n kill… self.”
Jazz watched, horrified, as the grey Praxian brought the weapon to his chestplates and pulled the trigger.
= = =
They couldn’t stop Sideswipe from charging forward when he saw a grey frame collapse. The teal mech leapt at the black and white bot with a howl of fury, only for his attack to be easily evaded, leaving him off balance and open to the other Prowl’s next move.
It never came, and Sideswipe didn’t question his luck, scrambling to his pedes and putting some distance between himself and the doorwinged mech. Turning around, he realised that the mech had been stopped by another black and white tactician, and the pair were circling each other, one with anticipation gleaming in his red optics, the other with grim determination on his faceplates.
“Something interesting, at last.” The black chevroned Autobot purred, then lashed out, lightning quick. The mech with a red chevron ducked the blow, and soon they were trading strikes in a whirlwind of black and white.
Just then, a bright light ripped down empty space, and Cliffjumper swore when he recognised the effect. The other Prowl had broken away from the fight and was looking at the portal contemplatively.
“Curious. This must be how you three arrived here.”
Distracted, the mech barely avoided the teal frontliner who charged at him again. Shifting his attention to Sideswipe, the red opticked mech frowned.
“You really are most tiresome.”
“Like I care about your opinion.” Sideswipe swung at him again, driving the black and white mech away from the portal, calling out to Jazz, Cliffjumper and Prowl as he did so.
“What are you waiting for?! Get going!”
Cliffjumper joined him in attacking the now furious Autobot, only for the teal mech push him back. “You too, CJ.”
“What?! I’m staying!”
“That’s where you belong, Cliffjumper.” The frontliner disagreed. Weapons fire streaking past him to hold off another attack by his world’s Prowl told Sideswipe that the other two hadn’t left either, and he sighed. “CJ, I’m gonna miss you. Sorry ‘bout this.”
The red minibot squawked when a dark arm reached out and picked him up by the collar struts, then flung him in the direction of the portal, incidentally collecting two black and white mechs along the way. They stumbled back through the light and it flashed once, then winked out of existence.
= = =
“Picked up, shoved, thrown, yanked around. Being small sucks.”
The Autobots looked at the two black and white mechs on the ground, one with a red minibot sprawled over his legs, the other with a grey mech, babbling in relief, latched about his neck.
They stared even more when Prowl didn’t dislodge Bluestreak from his frame after the expected period of time, but reached up to embrace the grey mech, holding onto him tightly.
“What the frag happened over there?”
Jazz glanced at them, then stood, favouring his wounded side.
“Well. We found Cliffjumper. And then we hung around a while, got into a little ruckus with the natives, then you guys opened the portal thing and we went home.”
= = =
Sideswipe eyed his ex-comrade warily. The mech had stopped attacking the moment the portal vanished. Prowl met his gaze, then shrugged, turning around to leave the area, his path taking him past the too still form of Bluestreak.
“Where are you going?” The teal mech blurted out, and red optics glanced at him.
“I see the Decepticons have not improved your intellect any. Back to Iacon. Where else?”
Prowl stepped over Bluestreak’s frame, and Sideswipe snapped again. “Hey! Show a little respect for the deactivated!”
“Bluestreak isn’t dead, Sideswipe. Though he soon will be if you don’t get him to a medic.”
The frontliner’s optics widened, and he scrambled over to the grey mech’s side. True enough, Bluestreak’s ember still pulsed, very faintly.
“You’re not going to take him with you?”
“Why? You undoubtedly will, and nursing him back to health will strain the Decepticons’ resources. Not to mention what dissent his presence in Polyhex might cause. And even if you leave him, unlikely as that may be, I have no use for things that don’t work as they should. Besides, I have others.”
The tactician’s indifferent words made Sideswipe grit his denta. “I ought to shoot you now.”
“You won’t. I did say I had others, didn’t I?”
The teal mech froze as another mech moved into place between him and the chevroned bot. A mech that was a pale orange in colour, a mech that made his ember spasm in recognition.
“And I won’t shoot you either, in case you were wondering. Leaving you with this knowledge is far more satisfying.” A dark grin, and the black and white mech turned away. “Come, Sunstreaker. Let’s not trouble your brother any longer.”
The orange mech trailed after Prowl obediently as Sideswipe slammed a fist into the ground. The grey mech beside him made a faint sound, and with a last look at the departing pair, he carefully lifted Bluestreak to begin his own journey back to Polyhex.
= = = EndFic = = =
'Verse: Shattered Glass Transformers.
Characters: Cliffjumper. SG!Sideswipe. SG!Starscream. Jazz. Prowl. SG!Prowl. SG!Jazz. SG!Bluestreak.
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Possibly disturbing content. This is not a happy fic.
Notes: Written to get the bunny the frag away from headspace.
He paced the floor of the room the Decepticons had allocated to him, trying to sort out his thoughts. While he’d mostly accepted that the ‘Cons in this world were not the ones he’d known, and that things were very different here, Cliffjumper still had moments of… difficulty. And this was one of them. The Starscream from this dimension had come to him late one cycle, a datapad in one hand and a cube of highgrade in the other. The red minibot took one look at the jet’s expression and had known the flier bore ill news.
He wasn’t disappointed.
There was no way for him to go back home. The Decepticons couldn’t begin to figure out how he got here in the first place.
“Cliffjumper?”
He looked up at a teal green Sideswipe, trying to keep his inner turmoil from being too obvious. He didn’t know why he bothered. Sideswipe usually saw through it anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Thundercracker reported some energy readings out in the Rad Zone that were similar to what we got off you, and Starscream will be heading out to get a closer look. Megatron wants you to go with him. Maybe you’ll pick up something we don’t. And frag, we’ll see if we can’t get you home.”
“What?!”
Sideswipe was already moving, and Cliffjumper bolted after him, spark pulsing with a mixture of dread and hope.
= = =
All things considered, Cliffjumper supposed he should have expected this to happen. But hindsight is twenty/twenty, as they say, and running Earth slang through his processors really wasn’t going to help the situation.
Actually…
“Jazz.”
Hearing his designation in English made the visored mech look up at him, just as Starscream snapped in standard Cybertronian. “What did you say to the Autobot and why on Cybertron do you seem to think he’ll listen to you?!”
“Calm down, Starscream. That’s the Jazz from my world. Looks like we’ve got another visitor.” The red mech sighed. The jet grumbled.
“Alright, so you know each other. All well and good, but I’ve still got a blaster in my neck cables here.”
Cliffjumper nodded, and spoke to the black and white mech perched atop the flier. “Right. Jazz? Please let Starscream go. I can explain.”
A hurried conversation in English (and various common Earth languages) later, Jazz let Starscream up off the ground. The Ops mech’s expression was still wary, and the flier cycled air in frustration.
“Look, I mean you no harm, alright? In any case, two to one, or one seeker to one mech if Cliffjumper here decided to stay out of it, aren’t very good odds, you realise.”
Jazz smirked, straightening from his guarded stance, lowering his weapon far too easily for a cornered Ops bot.
“Well, then it’s a good thing I didn’t come alone, hm?”
Starscream stalled at the mech’s drawl, then pivoted sharply to see another black and white mech step into view, calmly staring him down, missile launchers targeted at the jet.
= = =
Jazz would never have predicted what happened next. The strange, differently coloured Seeker that Cliffjumper insisted was Starscream lunged to put himself between Prowl and the minibot, weapons up and pointed at the doorwinged mech. And judging from Cliffjumper’s expression, he hadn’t quite expected that either. But the flier was tense, practically vibrating with apprehension as the chevroned mech frowned and stepped forward.
“No closer!” Starscream barked, and Prowl raised an optic ridge.
“You say we’re safe from you, and yet your actions would imply otherwise.”
“I don’t know how you found us, but we’re gonna send you packing back to Optimus.”
“Starscream. That’s Prowl.” Cliffjumper tried, and the jet growled back at him.
“No slag it’s Prowl. Are you out of your processors, Cliffjumper?”
Biting back a laugh, Jazz interrupted. “What he means is; that’s the Prowl both ‘Jumper and I know. He came with me through the portal thing.”
Starscream stared, and Cliffjumper huffed, marching over to the puzzled tactician, followed by the Ops mech. The red minibot jabbed a finger at the law enforcement decals on the doorwinged frame. “Look at his fragging markings, Starscream. Does that look like Cybertronian to you?”
“Starscream! Are you alright?! We got your message and- Oops.”
Skywarp appearing startled the two black and white mechs into targeting him instead, and he backed away from the pair slowly.
“Oh, you must be Cliffjumper’s Prowl and Jazz. I presume you’re the weird energy readings we were picking up earlier then. Good to meet you, CJ here was getting lonely.”
The other flier rebooted his audios, then his optics. Next he grabbed Skywarp’s wing and yanked him further away from the mechs currently staring at him like he had a second head.
“How do you know they’re not the Prowl and Jazz we know?”
“Well, because they’re standing next to each other while Prime’s in Iacon, far, far away, just how we like him, and they’re not trying to kill each other.” Skywarp shrugged, and Starscream blinked at him again.
“… Good point.”
= = =
They’d just agreed to continue the explanations back in Polyhex where it was safer when Prowl stilled, lifting his head to peer into the distance, doors swivelling as if to pick up on some faint sound. Jazz turned in the same direction, optics going wide behind his visor when he identified the noise.
“Scatter!”
They scattered just as a missile impacted where they were standing a moment earlier, Starscream scooping up Cliffjumper and taking to the air with Skywarp, ignoring the red mech’s protests, while Prowl and Jazz transformed and sped away, ducking more blasts in the process.
One found its mark, sending the Ops mech flipping end over end into the air before he landed with a painful crash. Prowl skidded to a halt, transforming and darting over to Jazz’s side. The visored mech had also shifted back to root mode, and as the tactician tried to lift him, Jazz shook his head.
“You won’t be able to escape with me dragging you down.”
“They’ll get you.” The chevroned mech growled back, not letting go of the other bot. The Porsche grabbed hold of a white hand to pull it off his frame, tone insistent.
“That’s why you’ve got to get away, Prowler. I’m an Ops mech, I can stand whatever they’ll do to me. But I’m gonna be depending on you to get me out. Now go.”
Jazz shoved the startled tactician back, straight into a just materialised Skywarp’s arms, tumbling them both backwards and under the cover of a pile of scrap. The last thing he saw was Prowl trying to get free of the jet and to him, then there was shouting and mocking laughter and more pain as everything grew dark and he fell offline.
= = =
Megatron suppressed the shudder that wanted to take hold of his frame when he met the alternate Prowl from Cliffjumper’s dimension. The mech had been silent when Skywarp and Starscream had returned to Polyhex with him and Cliffjumper, the look in his optics one that spoke of a bot sorting through a myriad of plans and schemes, desperately trying to find a suitable course of action.
“Prowl, was it?”
That gaze turned on him, and he did shudder, just a little. The Prowl he was familiar with had a… reputation, and while Cliffjumper had assured him this Prowl was nothing like the one Megatron knew, the physical similarities were still more than enough to make his ember flutter uneasily.
“We will do all we can to get your friend back.”
This Prowl flicked doorwings briefly, before nodding once and returning to the schematics he had laid out before him. Megatron watched him work, filling in the blank spaces on the blueprints that Soundwave’s cassettes hadn’t managed (or had been ordered not to risk their lives) to map, then left, somehow feeling strangely inadequate.
= = =
He hung, limp in his restraints as the mech paced a slow, languid circle about his helpless frame, unable to muster the energy to even flinch from his interrogator’s careful touches. A low voice murmured into his audios, the words sinking into his processors even as he tried to ignore them.
“I know every bolt and circuit of your frame, Jazz. All its weaknesses. You will not remain unbroken, I will find out how you entered our world. The only thing yet to be determined is when. Perhaps, if you are amusing enough, I might be inclined to delay my doing so a little longer.”
Then the black and white form moved away from him, and the face of a trusted colleague came into his line of sight, black chevroned and lit with anticipation.
“I do hope you will hold out a little longer than the last bot to entertain me, Jazz.”
The saboteur spat at the red opticked mech, prompting an amused chuckle from the bot.
“Rust in the Pit, Prowl.”
= = =
Cliffjumper folded his arms, glaring at the black and white mech still sorting through plans and schematics. “Look, you need to take a break. You’re gonna fritz if you keep up this pace, and then where will Jazz be?”
Prowl barely spared him a glance, calmly explaining. “I don’t have much time. As you know, the means by which you, Jazz and I arrived here is rather unstable. The Autobots will initiate another connection to this world soon, and if we are not there to pass through…”
The tactician paused briefly, then continued. “I do not know when they will be able to make another attempt. If they even do so.”
“How soon?” The minibot queried, and Prowl sighed.
“If my calculations are correct, slightly over a decacycle.”
“Slag.”
= = =
It was cold in his cell. Though Jazz supposed that might be due to his systems going haywire from the damage he’d taken. The other Prowl had been true to his word, toying with him, making him scream again and again until his vocaliser had started to smoke. The fragger hadn’t even bothered asking him any questions. Then the mech had dropped him unceremoniously into this vacant cell, telling him to ‘be good and stay there’ until he returned to ‘continue the fun’.
The door slid open, and he couldn’t help it. Jazz cringed, and then gasped when gentle hands tilted his helm upwards. He onlined his optics, and nearly cried out in relief. Blue optics and a red chevron. His Prowl.
“Prowler.” He’d be damned if he used the other fragger’s name right now. Prowl helped him to stand, then supported him as they exited the cell.
“Come on, Jazz. Let’s get out of here.”
= = =
//Jazz! Jazz!//
//What is it, glitch?//
//You’ll never guess! The prisoner, you know, the one that’s actually you?//
//Don’t remind me, Ricochet. The twisted fragger that calls itself our tactician’s been rubbing that pile of scrap in my faceplates ever since it landed in our base. What about him?//
//Prowl’s just busted him out of the cells! It’s on the vids and everything! He didn’t even bother to make it look like it was the ‘Cons doing it, just keyed in the codes and opened the door. You’ve got him good now!//
//You idiot! Prowl’s in here with Prime and me!//
Not bothering to listen to his brother’s stunned response, Prime’s bodyguard cut off the communication and interrupted the discussion his leader was having with the black and white Praxian.
“Prime, we have a situation. Seems like my alternate self has a friend. One that looks like our tactician here. They’ve broken out and are escaping.”
“How troublesome. I trust you will be able to handle this, Jazz?”
“Yes sir.”
He saluted, then shot a glaring Prowl a malicious grin before leaving to hunt down their doppelgangers. Revenge would be sweet.
= = =
Leaving the cells behind had been easy, but Jazz’s injuries were catching up with him and soon they had to stop to rest. The visored mech panted, intakes sounding laboured, and Prowl cast a worried look at the other black and white.
“Jazz, I’m sorry, but we have to move now.”
“I know. S’not your fault.” He sighed, visor flickering. “Let’s go.”
The doorwinged mech moved to support him again, but movement at the edge of his visual field had the tactician putting Jazz at his back, doors flared protectively over the saboteur as two more mechs joined them.
Then he froze, optics wide and horrified. Behind the black and white form of his double was a grey one. The other Prowl noted his reaction with interest.
“I suppose you have one in your dimension too. And from the looks of it, I would be inclined to speculate that you were close to this mech’s alternate self.” A white hand stroked the grey Praxian’s cheek, and the other Prowl didn’t bother concealing his delight at his red chevroned double’s expression.
“You’ll be happy to learn that things are the same way here. Bluestreak is my personal guard. Though he did require a little… taking to hand. He’s a wonderfully obedient mech now, a far cry from the wild youngling he was when I first came across him.”
Prowl couldn’t look away, even as Jazz hissed at him to move. The other Prowl petted the other Bluestreak on the helm, the grey mech’s blank expression not changing one bit, before the black and white mech curled a malevolent smile at his counterpart.
“Bluestreak. Deal with them.”
Jazz grabbed hold of Prowl and ran.
= = =
They fled through the building, along hauntingly familiar corridors, avoiding the cameras with ease. Behind them the sound of pedefalls faded, and they ducked into a storage chamber, Jazz dropping to his knees, trying his best to regulate his systems while recovering from fleeing with severe injuries. Prowl watched the entrance, faceplates grim. The visored mech coughed, and the sickening sound of energon splattering to the floor had the doorwinged bot turning to him in concern. When Jazz didn’t wave him off, Prowl drew closer, carefully helping the mech lean back against the wall.
“Frag.”
The visored mech sighed, and the tactician was minded to agree. Their respite was cut short by the looming presence of a grey form in the doorway. Prowl was immediately between the incapacitated Ops bot and the other Bluestreak, but the mech only gestured for them to follow him. With nothing left to lose, Prowl slipped an arm under Jazz’s, and together they trailed haltingly after the silent mech.
When Bluestreak stopped, uncovering a dark opening in the corridor, the tactician glanced at it, then back to the unnervingly silent bot.
“You’re letting us go?”
A nod.
“Why?”
A shake of the head, and a brief, hesitant glance at the black and white mech. Then Bluestreak reached out to him, almost wistfully. Prowl stalled, then settled Jazz against the wall before moving a little closer.
“… You can’t talk?”
Bluestreak tilted his head up and aside and Prowl’s intakes caught. Behind the cruel looking collar that the mech wore were damaged cables, and what looked like a crushed vocaliser.
“… I did this.”
Bluestreak shook his head again, taking hold of a white hand to press it lightly against the shattered components, then against his cheek as he traced Prowl’s red chevron. A faint, tinny whine sounded, and the grey mech shuttered his optics, pressing into Prowl’s hand.
“Bluestreak.”
The mech’s optics flashed online at Prowl’s distressed tone, and he curled against the other Praxian, shaking ever so slightly, before pulling away and pointing at the gap.
“What about you?”
A shrug, and the two black and white mechs were quickly shoved into the hole. Then the only light was that of their optics as the opening was sealed up. With no other options left to them, the two black and whites slowly felt their way down the passage, hoping that they wouldn’t end up in more trouble on the other side.
After an excruciatingly long time in the darkness, they emerged in the Rad Zone. The area was deserted, but neither of them trusted it would stay that way for long.
Jazz looked at Prowl, silently asking where they were headed next. The tactician cast about, then pointed, and they started to limp in that direction. A dark speck in the distance had the doorwinged mech stashing his friend behind what cover he could find, but their luck held.
“There you are! Megatron’s going spare. C’mon, let’s get you two back to base.”
= = =
“Did they escape, Bluestreak?”
A silent nod, and a black chevroned mech smiled.
“Very good. Let’s see how Jazz gets himself out of this one.”
= = =
Jazz onlined from his repairs to find blue optics flickering at him tiredly, prompting the visored mech to ask in exasperation.
“Prowler, have you recharged at all?”
The tactician looked away, doors resting listlessly, and the Ops mech sighed.
“Right, since you refuse to go offline, put that battle computer of yours to use and figure out something for me.” The doorwinged mech eyed Jazz’s innocent grin, and the saboteur blithely ignored the suspicious look to carry on with his question.
“So… if this Sideswipe is good and on the side of the ‘Cons, and pretty much almost everything here is backwards-land compared to what we know, does that mean our Sideswipe is…?”
“I already know that our Sideswipe is the spawn of Unicron, Jazz.” Prowl vented air as if aggravated, but he smiled and Jazz counted it as a victory.
“I guess you would, what with all the chaos Sides’ causes just by standing still and cycling air.”
“Huh, what chaos?” Both black and whites looked up to see two mechs, one teal and one red, standing in the doorway. Jazz grinned.
“I dunno ‘bout you, but your counterpart in our world is a bit of a trouble maker.”
“I never took you for one to understate things, Jazz.”
“You’ve spent almost every vorn we’ve known each other telling me to tone it down, and now you want me to do otherwise? Prowler, if you ever have sparklings, they’re gonna be the most confused little bots the world will ever see.”
“I only ask that you state the facts accurately, instead of including all the hyperbole that seems to be a constant in your manner. Some of your reports are so exaggerated, they might as well have been written by an author of fiction.”
“Come on, a little livening up never hurt anyone. And you like reading my hyperbole, admit it. My reports are the only interesting ones you get.”
Sideswipe was turning from one mech to the other, expression growing increasingly bewildered. Cliffjumper took pity on him and interrupted them by clearing his vocaliser.
“Well, Hook actually sent us in to check on you two, but if you’re bickering then you must be doing alright.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Prowler’s not. Glitch won’t recharge.” The saboteur muttered.
Sideswipe spoke up, still sounding off kilter. “He does look like slag. Should we get Hook in here then?”
The red minibot snorted. “Sideswipe, I’ve seen Prowl defy the Ratchet in my dimension. Trust me. This Hook’s not going to be able to make him do anything.”
= = =
Cliffjumper and Sideswipe left soon after, and Jazz watched the chevroned mech seated by his berth, Prowl’s thought processes clearly going nowhere good. He cycled air tiredly; the last few cycles had been no picnic for the saboteur. His injuries had almost sent Scrapper and Hook into hysterics, and had sent this world’s version of Shockwave off to regain control himself before the one opticked mech would speak to anyone again.
“Credit for your thoughts, Prowler.”
Startled, the tactician looked at him, taking in the network of welds that littered the Porsche’s frame. He reached out to Jazz, then held back, dropping his hands to his lap, fists clenched.
“It is… disturbing… to know that I am capable of this.” The chevroned mech’s tone was blank, and he turned his optics to the berth Jazz was lying on. There was a sigh, then black hands were covering Prowl’s white ones, holding them tightly before sliding up to wrap arms around the doorwinged mech’s frame, stilling tremors Prowl hadn’t even been aware of. A visor glinted close to his faceplates as Jazz murmured.
“You’re not him, Prowler. Never will be.”
Prowl didn’t answer, trying to break away from the saboteur’s hold. Jazz held on, and the tactician started when the other mech yanked him down onto the berth, pushing and shoving until the Ops mech could lay his helm on the chevroned mech’s shoulder.
“… What are you doing?”
“Getting some recharge in the safest place in this world.”
The tactician fell silent. As Jazz’s systems quieted, he brushed his fingers gently over the mech’s dark helm with a whisper.
“Rest well, Jazz.”
Eventually, lulled by the steady hum of the other mech’s intakes, Prowl’s optics dimmed too.
= = =
“Prowl? Jazz?”
“Yes Shockwave?”
“I apologise for imposing during your convalescence, but could I enlist your assistance with a tactical matter regarding the Autobots of this world?”
The visored mech could sense the other black and white going even more still, which was an accomplishment, considering how Prowl usually was. He protested.
“Wait a moment… We’re not like… them, y’know. If you’re looking for insights into their minds, we’re not going to be much help.”
“I realise that. You are different from the Jazz of this world, just as Cliffjumper is different from the one we were once familiar with. I worked with your Prowl on your extraction from Iacon, and I must say he is nothing like the mech who shares his designation in this plane. His plans aim to preserve the lives of his charges. As for the other…
“Even Prime endeavours to reign in his tactician. The mech crafts his strategies with little regard for the ones who must carry them out, the ends his only consideration, and what his true ends are few have been able to divine. To try and predict your counterparts’ next move based on the individuals that you are would be like trying to solve a mathematical equation with the colour green.”
The Ops mech frowned, then turned to the silent mech beside him.
“Prowler?”
A look and a flicker of doorwings, before Prowl glanced back at Shockwave.
“What do you need from us?”
= = =
They found Bluestreak in even worse condition than Jazz had been in. Sideswipe carried the grey mech into the Decepticon base, Rumble and Frenzy scrambling about picking up the pieces that fell off in the teal mech’s dash for the med bay. The Ops mech was getting examined by Hook when Sidswipe charged in, optics bright with urgency, and the medic was immediately on his pedes with a startled exclamation, hurrying the frontliner and his burden over to an operating table.
“Slag. Prowler can’t see him like this.” Sideswipe looked at the grim expression on Jazz’s faceplates, and the visored bot sighed. “Right, I’m gonna keep the mech away from medical as long as I can. Hopefully, he won’t hear about this until Bluestreak’s all patched up.”
That plan was dashed the moment the saboteur reached the med bay doors. Prowl stood at the entrance, optics focused on the grey form bleeding out under Hook and Scrapper’s frantic attempts to keep him alive, and headed straight for Bluestreak, heedless of Jazz’s attempt to restrain him. The grey Praxian in turn seemed to know that the black and white mech was at his side, because red optics flickered online, and a harsh grinding noise issued from the battered Autobot.
A grey hand reached out, and Prowl wordlessly took it, only to reboot his optics when Bluestreak let go immediately, falling back, optics dark. Some alarm shrieked and Scrapper barked into his comm. Jazz moved closer, and when Prowl didn’t move, staring at the objects in his hand, the visored mech gently guided him out of the med bay.
= = =
Megatron came across them in the corridor, Soundwave and his cassettes with him. The Decepticon leader paused, then indicated that the two black and whites should join him in the next room. The tapeplayer sent his symbiotes into the med bay with the parts of Bluestreak they’d gathered, then followed the three.
“Jazz, Prowl…” The large mech began, only for the tactician to address his friend instead.
“Jazz. Look at this.”
The Ops mech looked, and with a startled oath, picked up one of the broken objects. Turning it over in his hands, he muttered.
“Looks like a transmitter, with a fragging mic, and shielded to boot. Slag, we were bugged.”
“There are two of these devices. I think Bluestreak was supposed to plant them on us, but he didn’t.”
“So we were released intentionally.”
“It is the logical conclusion.”
“Could be why Bluestreak’s in pieces in the ‘Con’s med bay. He disobeyed orders.”
“Possibly, he could also be another attempt at establishing a plant.”
“I know. But he destroyed the things. So whatever game that Prowl was planning, Bluestreak’s not playing any more.”
Their discussion went on, and Megatron could only look on in astonishment. Catching Soundwave’s gaze, he shook his head.
“If this is what they’re capable of when working together, then I am most glad the ones in this world would rather walk into the Prime’s smelting pools before doing the same.”
Soundwave only nodded.
= = =
“Y’know. If I came online in the med bay to find Prowl hovering over me, I’d be across the room so fast; my shadow’d have to play catch up.”
Jazz looked away from the sight of a black and white mech talking quietly to a grey one and up at Sideswipe, grinning faintly.
“Yeah, I can see why you’d feel that way. The fragger’s a piece of work alright.”
The teal mech nodded, and there was a long pause before he spoke again.
“Hey.”
“Yes, Sideswipe?”
“Take Bluestreak with you when you go. He doesn’t need to be here.”
Across the room, two pairs of doorwings twitched, and Bluestreak’s vocaliser made a protesting noise as he shook his head violently. Sideswipe stepped forward, tone insistent.
“He’ll be hunting you!”
The grey Praxian pointed at the floor, as if to say that here was where he belonged.
“Blue’, you got me out of there, let me help you this time.”
Still mending, Bluestreak’s voice was scratchy and halting, but his determination was obvious.
“Stay… here. Th-is… home.”
= = =
The red minibot tracked them down them late in the decacycle.
“Hey ‘Jumper. Lemme guess, you wanna stay.” The saboteur’s expression was resigned, and Cliffjumper sighed.
“I know I have a duty to the ‘Bots on our side, but these ‘Cons saved me. And they need me. We were doing well enough before I landed here, right? Primus, it’s a selfish thing to ask, I know.”
“It will be your choice, Cliffjumper. We cannot force you to return with us.” Prowl spoke now, tone even and neutral. The smaller mech groaned.
“Look, I haven’t made a decision yet, ‘kay?”
“It’s alright, ‘Jumper. We’ve got another two cycles before we head out to the Rad Zone to wait for our ride back.”
“Frag, not a lot of time to think. Slagging ponderous.” He made to leave, and stopped in his tracks at Jazz’s parting remark.
“Whatever you choose, mech, it’ll be okay with us.”
The red mech nodded, then turned and left the pair alone.
= = =
“So, have you decided?”
“Not yet, Sideswipe.”
“What are you gonna do then? They’re heading out this cycle, I’m running escort duty.”
“Go with them to the portal, and hope I can make a choice by then.”
= = =
Watching the silent grey mech accompanying them to where the gateway to their own dimension was supposed to open, Jazz couldn’t help but shiver a little. It felt wrong, somehow, though he supposed that was how it had been for all the bots he and Prowl had interacted with this past decacycle.
Suddenly, something exploded in front of him, making his swerve sharply to one side. More mines went off and he heard someone cry out, the blast must have hit at least one of them. The saboteur could no longer tell where Prowl, Cliffjumper or Sideswipe were, but he could see Bluestreak dashing to stand in front of him.
“Bluestreak?”
Then he spotted the black chevroned mech sauntering towards them, and no more explanation was needed.
“You.”
“Me. Did you miss me, Jazz?”
The visored mech didn’t bother dignifying that with an answer. Bluestreak’s weapon was aimed at the approaching black and white mech, and the other Prowl smirked.
“Going to shoot me, Bluestreak? You can’t, you know. You could never hurt me. No matter what I do to you, because then you’d be all alone again, just like before.”
The grey mech whimpered, and the other Prowl chuckled.
“I’m the only one who gives so much as a damn about you, Bluestreak. No one else cares. Why would they? You’re useless to them. But not to me, isn’t that right?”
Bluestreak’s gun dipped, and he backed away from the advancing mech, shaking his head in mute denial. Jazz snarled.
“Yeah, right. That’s why you left him to die out here.”
Prowl laughed, the sound almost good natured, sending chills deep into the Ops mech’s spark. “Come now, Jazz. I take better care of what’s mine than that. How do you think I found your little group? I always know where my things are.”
And before the visored bot could react, the black chevroned mech drew a blaster and shot him.
= = =
Cliffjumper struggled to right himself, gyros and circuits all thrown off kilter when he’d been pushed out of the way by Sideswipe. Stumbling over to the teal mech, he found Prowl already there, checking the ex-Autotbot over with a practiced optic.
“Is he?”
“He’s not dead. Thank Primus for lead plated frontliner armour and helms.”
Sideswipe coughed. “Huh. You’re into that Primus thing that CJ was telling us about too?”
Prowl blinked at him, and Cliffjumper shrugged. “They haven’t heard about Primus. Though with everything here being the other way ‘round, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that Unicron’s the one that’s all goodness and light instead.”
“Primus. Unicron. Where the frag do you get all these names from, Cliffjumper?”
“Just stand up already, Sides. We’ve got to get back to Jazz and Bluestreak.”
= = =
Jazz hit the ground, clutching his side as energon dribbled from his newly acquired injury. The other Prowl eyed him disinterestedly, then looked at Bluestreak.
“Kill him. Go on. I’ve even made it easier for you.”
The other doorwinged mech shook his head again, and Prowl sighed. Then, tone sharp and demanding, the black and white Praxian snapped.
“Kill the mech, Bluestreak. Now.”
The grey bot keened, frame trembling as he tried to fight off the urge to obey the mech’s command. He dropped to his knees, pointing his gun at Prowl, who only looked amused at the other mech’s actions.
“Honestly, Bluestreak. What did I just say? You won’t kill me. You can’t.”
“N-ot… you. But… ca-n kill… self.”
Jazz watched, horrified, as the grey Praxian brought the weapon to his chestplates and pulled the trigger.
= = =
They couldn’t stop Sideswipe from charging forward when he saw a grey frame collapse. The teal mech leapt at the black and white bot with a howl of fury, only for his attack to be easily evaded, leaving him off balance and open to the other Prowl’s next move.
It never came, and Sideswipe didn’t question his luck, scrambling to his pedes and putting some distance between himself and the doorwinged mech. Turning around, he realised that the mech had been stopped by another black and white tactician, and the pair were circling each other, one with anticipation gleaming in his red optics, the other with grim determination on his faceplates.
“Something interesting, at last.” The black chevroned Autobot purred, then lashed out, lightning quick. The mech with a red chevron ducked the blow, and soon they were trading strikes in a whirlwind of black and white.
Just then, a bright light ripped down empty space, and Cliffjumper swore when he recognised the effect. The other Prowl had broken away from the fight and was looking at the portal contemplatively.
“Curious. This must be how you three arrived here.”
Distracted, the mech barely avoided the teal frontliner who charged at him again. Shifting his attention to Sideswipe, the red opticked mech frowned.
“You really are most tiresome.”
“Like I care about your opinion.” Sideswipe swung at him again, driving the black and white mech away from the portal, calling out to Jazz, Cliffjumper and Prowl as he did so.
“What are you waiting for?! Get going!”
Cliffjumper joined him in attacking the now furious Autobot, only for the teal mech push him back. “You too, CJ.”
“What?! I’m staying!”
“That’s where you belong, Cliffjumper.” The frontliner disagreed. Weapons fire streaking past him to hold off another attack by his world’s Prowl told Sideswipe that the other two hadn’t left either, and he sighed. “CJ, I’m gonna miss you. Sorry ‘bout this.”
The red minibot squawked when a dark arm reached out and picked him up by the collar struts, then flung him in the direction of the portal, incidentally collecting two black and white mechs along the way. They stumbled back through the light and it flashed once, then winked out of existence.
= = =
“Picked up, shoved, thrown, yanked around. Being small sucks.”
The Autobots looked at the two black and white mechs on the ground, one with a red minibot sprawled over his legs, the other with a grey mech, babbling in relief, latched about his neck.
They stared even more when Prowl didn’t dislodge Bluestreak from his frame after the expected period of time, but reached up to embrace the grey mech, holding onto him tightly.
“What the frag happened over there?”
Jazz glanced at them, then stood, favouring his wounded side.
“Well. We found Cliffjumper. And then we hung around a while, got into a little ruckus with the natives, then you guys opened the portal thing and we went home.”
= = =
Sideswipe eyed his ex-comrade warily. The mech had stopped attacking the moment the portal vanished. Prowl met his gaze, then shrugged, turning around to leave the area, his path taking him past the too still form of Bluestreak.
“Where are you going?” The teal mech blurted out, and red optics glanced at him.
“I see the Decepticons have not improved your intellect any. Back to Iacon. Where else?”
Prowl stepped over Bluestreak’s frame, and Sideswipe snapped again. “Hey! Show a little respect for the deactivated!”
“Bluestreak isn’t dead, Sideswipe. Though he soon will be if you don’t get him to a medic.”
The frontliner’s optics widened, and he scrambled over to the grey mech’s side. True enough, Bluestreak’s ember still pulsed, very faintly.
“You’re not going to take him with you?”
“Why? You undoubtedly will, and nursing him back to health will strain the Decepticons’ resources. Not to mention what dissent his presence in Polyhex might cause. And even if you leave him, unlikely as that may be, I have no use for things that don’t work as they should. Besides, I have others.”
The tactician’s indifferent words made Sideswipe grit his denta. “I ought to shoot you now.”
“You won’t. I did say I had others, didn’t I?”
The teal mech froze as another mech moved into place between him and the chevroned bot. A mech that was a pale orange in colour, a mech that made his ember spasm in recognition.
“And I won’t shoot you either, in case you were wondering. Leaving you with this knowledge is far more satisfying.” A dark grin, and the black and white mech turned away. “Come, Sunstreaker. Let’s not trouble your brother any longer.”
The orange mech trailed after Prowl obediently as Sideswipe slammed a fist into the ground. The grey mech beside him made a faint sound, and with a last look at the departing pair, he carefully lifted Bluestreak to begin his own journey back to Polyhex.
= = = EndFic = = =