I swear this shouldn't be possible
Crack. Complete and utter. This one requires some explanation. My friends are really hyped about Repo: The Genetic Opera, and introduced me to a song called Zydrate Anatomy. ‘Cide Jazz (aka the crazy evil Jazz) latched on to it, had it on repeat for THREE DAYS, before finally returning to me with this scene. This is like... a parallel universe to ‘Cide... a rock opera musical verse. So, if they ever broke out into song, this is what would happen.
Title: Zydrate Comes in a Little Glass Vial
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Medical nastiness, implications of torture and sadism. Crack.
Pairings, Characters: Jazz/Prowl, OC
Summary: An Autobot prisoner finds himself in the hands of two interrogators with a very unusual method.
Disclaimer: Very much not mine - they belong to Hastak. Zydrate Anatomy belongs to the creators of Repo. Afterburn belongs to snugsbunny , who is very graciously allowing me to detroy the little cretin.
The song in question, Zydrate Anatomy. I recommend listening while reading, because yes, they are singing with some words changed to suit (I said it was crack). Except... Prowl certainly doesn’t sound like that! Last verse was dropped from this, it didn’t fit.
Unbeta’d and crazy as all get out.
~*~
Afterburn was more than a little disquieted when he onlined in what looked to be some form of... reformatter’s shop. Different tools were laying around, all gleaming and clean, out of place amongst coils of chain and random parts - armour, wiring, even recognisable limbs.
The red flier remembered being captured by Decepticons and shuddered. Surely this wasn’t their medical bay. That was a little horrific, even for Decepticons, and he was certain that they wouldn’t have actually fixed what damage he had taken.
To his almost relief, once he managed to wriggle enough in his restraints - proof that he was indeed, definitely still a prisoner - he was able to see the dried energon against his armour, and the gash from where it had seeped.
Afterburn gave a start as the door slid open, allowing more light to spill in, reminding him that the room was rather dim, and admitting a mech that paused in the doorway, visor glowing before the horned helm tilted in a nod, and the mech moved fully into the room.
He watched in trepidation as he moved into the light, showing a frame of black and white, and was able to identify him as the rather infamous double agent, Jazz.
The saboteur was fiddling with things on a table, hands moving in deft movements, rearranging, picking up, putting back, and to Afterburn’s utter surprise, he started murmuring lowly to himself in a rather sing-song tone.
“Drug market, sub market. Sometimes I wonder why I ever got in,” Jazz hummed, gathering what looked like a very intricate gun, spinning it comfortably in his hands. “Blood market, love market. Sometimes I wonder why they need us at all.”
Jazz turned suddenly, grinning at the Autobot as he held up a vibrant, almost glowing blue liquid, his song becoming quite definite as he announced in a tone that was barely holding back the sinister giggle, “Zydrate comes in a little glass vial.”
“A little glass vial?” Afterburn repeated back stunned. He didn’t even know what the substance was, but it certainly looked viscous.
Jazz, however, went on as if he hadn’t heard the bewildered question, “And the little glass vial goes into the gun like a battery,” he demonstrated by setting the vial into the medical gun he had collected, waving a hand around it in mocking demonstration, before continuing in the smooth voice Afterburn would have found appealing if it hadn’t been so maniacally sinister.
“And the Zydrate gun goes somewhere against your anatomy,” Jazz stepped forward, waving the gun over the flier’s frame, his expression belying his thoughts on where best to proceed with this step, and Afterburn unconsciously flinched back from the almost feral grin.
“And when the gun goes off, it sparks and you’re ready for the surgery,” the Decepticon promised, and Afterburn wondered fleetingly exactly where he was, and what was about to happen to him.
He didn’t even have time to question, or plead with the grinning mech swaying nearby, waving the zydrate gun around consideringly, when the door slid open again, catching both their attention. In strode another black and white mech, glaring at Afterburn from beneath a bright red chevron, wings held perfectly behind him. Jazz straightened visibly as the other entered, turning his grin on him.
“Dark lover, my dark lover,” Prowl shook his head, sighing the words as he moved towards another table. “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”
Jazz shifted, bouncing from foot to foot a little as he watched the other’s fingers playing over the table top, and Afterburn saw the glint of bright metal as it was shifted under the light.
“Dark lover, my dark lover. Sometimes I wonder why they need us at all.”
Jazz giggled shortly, then turned abruptly back to his captive, explaining in the same tune that he had used before, “Now, Commander Prowl is addicted to the knife.”
“Addicted to the knife?” the flier almost squeaked, glancing back to the other black and white, blanching as he saw him lift up a handle from the table, igniting an energon blade and inspecting it.
Jazz nodded, straddling Afterburn’s lap, leaning in as if to confess, “And addicted to the knife, he needs a little help with the agony. And that little help comes in a little glass vial in a gun pressed against your anatomy.”
Afterburn gaped as the gun was pressed against the cables at his neck, feeling the prick of a needlepoint. Jazz grinned as Prowl cam up behind him, watching curiously.
“And when the gun goes off,” Jazz nodded, “Prowler’s ready for your surgery.”
There was a soft hiss, and the flood of coldness rushing through the Autobot’s wiring, rendering everything just a little numb, while his processor began to spin.
“Dark lover, my dark lover,” he watched blearily as Prowl murmured against the other mech’s helm-horn, prompting Jazz to tilt his head, a delighted expression on his face. “Sometimes I wonder why they need us at all.”
He continued to watch in horrified fascination as Prowl twirled the energon scalpel in his fingers, other hand coming to rest over Jazz’s shoulder as he nuzzled his neck. Jazz tilted his head back with a laugh, before twisting to glide easily up to his feet, turning to face Prowl, both glancing at the Autobot, as the world seemed to spin around him.
"It's clean," Jazz hummed lowly, hand drifting over a wing.
"It's clear," Prowl added, sending a dark smile in the flier's direction.
"It's pure."
"What?" Afterburn asked hazily, trying to grasp what they were talking about, but the two of them appeared to be moving in and out of his vision, throbbing in the world as it pulsed in a painful twist of dull background and shining tools.
"It's rare," the chevroned one amended, while Jazz danced around him, making them appear to meld together in the drugged mech's optics, a blurr of black and white, of glowing optics that left a soft trail behind them as they moved.
"It takes you there," Jazz laughed as he twirled around his mech, Prowl taking his hand and leading him around. "A little jump, before the cut."
"It what?" Afterburn asked hoarsely, shuttering his optics a few times in an effort to clear his vision.
"It takes you there!"
The two pulled close to each other, indulging in a passionate kiss, completely ignoring their captive. Hands were running over almost identical armour plating, Jazz uttering a hiss that turned to a laugh as the tip of the scalpel was run lightly down his side.
The entire roomed seemed to pulse in a processor aching manner, as he continued to watch them teasing at each other’s mouths with chasing glossas, until he realised that his entire body felt coldly leaden.
“I can’t feel nothing at all,” he thought, unknowingly murmuring aloud.
The two pulled back, glancing at each other and sharing one last kiss before they turned as one and advanced on their captive.
He screamed.
~*~
A/N 1: What happens next is left open. I do not know. Nor do I think I want to. 2: Yes, Afterburn will be present for a little in ‘Cide. I quite honestly despise him in it, and think he deserves exactly what happened here. I hope one day, you’ll agree. Meaning Jazz should LET ME WRITE CHAPTER ONE WITHOUT BEING RESISTANT! DX
The entire Repo soundtrack can be found on my music share folder here.