Well whaddaya know. I wrote stuff.
Title: Bring Him Down (01/01)
Verse: Shattered Glass AU
Rating: NC-17 like seriously.
Words: 5288
Characters: Jazz, Ricochet.
Warnings: Violence, Non-con, twincest, sticky. Possibly triggering.
Summary: Ricochet's jealousy, rancor and obsession become too much to bear and he decides it's time to act and set a record straight.
Notes: I got a random bunny that demanded to be written to play with the canonical rivalry Ricochet has towards Jazz in Shattered Glass. This is not meant to be pretty and it's my first real time writing non-con. I'm not sure where this fits in my own SG verse. It probably happens at some point before or after Baby, You're Sick. There might or might not be a follow up with the mentioned 'Decepticon'.
Thanks to nkfloofiepoof for beta-reading this for me on short notice, and wicked3659 & eerian_sadow for both encouraging me to write the bunny and for helping me to make sure this made sense.
All his life, all Ricochet had desired the most was respect and power although Jazz would be quick to amend his brother's desires to 'power and be feared'. He wasn't going to get much higher than his current position afforded him in the ladder of hierarchy in the Autobot army, and Jazz particularly preferred they stayed that way when the competition for the higher ranks included the likes of Ironhide, Goldbug and Hot Rod.
Jazz was alright with staying in his high profile but still grunt-level position as Optimus Prime's bodyguard. It afforded him a level of familiarity with the overlord, made him required to a certain level and Optimus Prime didn't feel any concerns about their loyalty which afforded them a few luxuries for their service.
For Ricochet, that wasn't enough, though. Jazz was well aware that his twin's feigned borderline insanity was just a facade for a mech that aspired to much more. If Ricochet could have his way Jazz would disappear in the most unfortunate of situations, bravely deactivated fulfilling his duty as bodyguard to their lord and ruler. Much to his chagrin Jazz seemed to not only be blessed with the favor of Optimus over Ricochet but was also slagging lucky in that he always stayed more or less unharmed while Ricochet could sustain more considerable wounds.
Ricochet loathed the attention and favor Jazz received but also loathed that his copy was not submissive at all towards him. For the most part, their relationship was decent enough with Ricochet often swaying between the older brother role and that of the reckless half of the pair --He wanted Jazz to follow him, to obey him, but Jazz seemed to take whatever authority Ricochet hoped to have and turned it around so it was Ricochet becoming the follower. But deep down, Ricochet hoped Jazz would sometime perish to leave him as Prime's favorite. He'd gone as far as to come up with operations of his own not previously approved by Optimus Prime or anyone only to have his efforts yield the opposite reaction.
Now things were becoming even more tense amongst them thanks to Jazz's little fancy for a Decepticon growing steadily rather than receding. Even though the majority of the Autobots, Optimus Prime included, had no reservation about taking a Decepticon prisoner for their own pleasure, Ricochet was disgusted with the mere thought of his brother taking a Decepticon as his lover, especially knowing Jazz's desires weren't limited to simply forcing the Decepticon to bring him physical pleasure.
He couldn't fathom how his brother, a half of his very own ember --a half he'd not parted with willingly- could even harbor any kind of interest for a Decepticon and going so far as to threaten him if he ever laid a claw on the object of his twisted affections. This affront was not to be forgiven, and Jazz needed to be reminded once and for all that Ricochet was the original spark and he owed him obedience.
Ricochet brought a hand to his abdominal plates, stroking the fresh welds left behind by a recent battle. As it was becoming usual, his recklessness and utter abandon in the battlefield had afforded him a few injuries while Jazz had gone unscathed. This only served to make him angrier at his twin brother and his determination to set the record straight with Jazz.
Jazz made no move to acknowledge the arrival of his twin despite the purposeful racket Ricochet had made to announce his presence. Currently laying down on his berth, Jazz's attention was absorbed by the contents of a data pad held in one black hand while his other arm cushioned his helm. Ricochet, who was a creature forever hungry for some kind of attention or acknowledgment, did not appreciate his brother was usually one of the mechs that ignored him the most.
"Slaggin' Decepticons!" Ricochet muttered as he stomped, literally, to his berth. "I can't wait until they are all wiped from existence."
Jazz didn't bother to look away from his pad's screen, long used to Ricochet's grumbling and complaining. Sometimes Jazz believed that Ricochet talked and complained so much simply because he was enamored of his own voice.
"And what the slag are you readin' now?" Ricochet growled as he glared at his brother.
"It's just the spread o' specifications fer Omega Doom." Jazz muttered and finally looked to his brother, giving him a quick swipe with his optics to assess his damage. "Ya really ought t'stop tryin' to be the champion yer not, bro. Prime's new bot-toy is gonna be material intensive, an' repairin' ya ain't gonna be one of the docs' most immediate concerns right now when that solder can go to Omega."
Ricochet's glare intensified. "You're not in any position to tell me what I should or shouldn't do," he barked as his already limited patience began to wear thin.
"Whatever ya say," Jazz muttered with a shrug. He'd long given up trying to reason with Ricochet; he was too single-minded and stubborn to try to look at the bigger picture.
Without speaking another word, Ricochet glared at Jazz for a while as his processor took to refresh his list of every little thing he disliked about his brother. It only served to increase Ricochet's frustration and anger towards Jazz and his perceived defiance to some kind of established natural order.
"Take a picture, bro. It'll last longer," Jazz muttered after a while, tired of sensing his brother's glare concentrated on him and wishing he would go somewhere else to torment some lesser mech in the grunts' barracks and leave him well alone just so he could focus on his study.
"That's enough!" Ricochet growled loudly and stood up, stalking up to his brother's berth to slap the pad away from Jazz's hand. "I'm done with this attitude of yours!"
"Hey!" Jazz sat up and pushed his brother away to regain some of his personal space. "What's yer slaggin' problem now?"
"You are my problem!" Ricochet cried dramatically, gesturing wildly towards Jazz. "Just look at yourself, Jazz! Look at that ridiculous color scheme of yours and your lack of ambition! For ember's sake, Jazz ya even got the hots for a slagging Decepticon! What does Optimus Prime see in you that he'll favor you instead of me?!"
Jazz groaned and brought a hand to his helm, having heard this litany far too many times for his taste. "Y'gonna start with this again? Seriously, bro, ya gotta drop this slag already." Jazz stood up and pushed past his twin, beginning to pace around the room. "I'm fraggin' sick of this, Ricochet."
Ricochet face darkened with a scowl, and his lips shifted into a snarl as he watched his brother pace. He let his optics run along Jazz's frame, so much like his own but also very different in every aspect. The way Jazz moved and carried himself was entirely different to the way Ricochet did --where Ricochet stalked and hunched over to try to make himself look more dangerous, Jazz had a more elegant and purposeful gait. The way Jazz's accent was thicker than Ricochet's but was more appealing to listen to. It seemed everything Jazz did always bested his brother's efforts to make himself noticeable.
Ricochet tried so hard to earn a higher place and to earn recognition and favor of their Prime, but it was Jazz who reaped all these benefits without even purposefully trying. It wasn't fair that his copy, his clone he was forced to acknowledge as a twin brother, would get all he ever wanted without even vying for it. Enough was enough.
Without warning, Jazz suddenly felt a fist connect hard with his abdominal plating, followed by another vicious punch to the side of his helm right below his sensory horns. To his credit, Jazz managed to stay upright despite his confusion and managed to bring an arm up just in time to block another punch, returning the fire with a swift kick to his brother's side. Ricochet hissed in pain and stumbled back, bringing a hand to his side where Jazz had kicked the tender welds.
Jazz took a step back, his optics wide behind the blue visor. "What the frag is wrong with ya?!" He cried as he tried to process what had just happened. Before he could say anything else, Ricochet was again on him, throwing punches and kicks without abandon. Jazz didn't often engage in one-on-one combat like his brother did, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of defending himself from this kind of assault. Jazz blocked as many kicks and punches as he could manage and dished out a few of his own.
They locked in a stalemate of sorts as both twins gave as much as they got. Their strength was relatively even, and their training had been the same. Their endurance was where the scales tipped in favor of Ricochet as he often engaged in physical fights with several mechs at the same time or mechs much bigger and stronger than himself. Jazz usually preferred to conserve his strength and keep his potential injuries to a minimum, relying on his weapons to give him an edge or keep him long ranged.
Ricochet threw a kick at Jazz that was followed by a swipe with his blunt claws that Jazz barely managed to dodge. Jazz gave a couple of small hops back to gain some room to maneuver, and brought a hand up just in time to block a high kick, he then brought his free hand up to grip the leg and twist it quickly, forcing Ricochet down and giving Jazz the chance to set more distance between them, he didn't want to be trapped against Ricochet's berth.
Ricochet did not remain in the ground for long, quickly rolling back onto his feet to lunge at his brother with his claws bared, he took a couple of swipes before he was forced to take a couple of steps back against a nearby table, courtesy of his twin's knee against his abdominal area. Jazz elbowed his brother's helm but the effect was partly lost as Ricochet managed a powerful punch under his bumper, and one of the headlights cracked. Jazz staggered back and barely managed to dodge another successions of kicks and punches.
Knowing that Ricochet could go on like this longer than Jazz, the black and white twin looked around the room to find something, anything, that could grant him that edge and help him knock his brother down without damaging him severely. Shooting Ricochet down or stabbing him with one of his hidden blades was doable at this point, but despite their rocky relationship, Jazz wasn't invested on the idea of shooting his twin yet.
Ricochet seemed to catch on Jazz's thoughts and weakness and took action before Jazz could. Pulling his rifle out of subspace, he used the wider side of the T-shaped weapon like a hammer and slammed it hard against Jazz's helm with a powerful swing. Jazz grunted in pain as his vision turned black, and for a few seconds, he couldn't tell up from down until Ricochet pinned him to the ground.
Jazz was now sporting a sizable dent on his helm and was dazed enough that Ricochet had no problem dominating his brother. With near savage abandon, he continued to punch at that area, wanting to make sure the other mech remained incapacitated long enough for him to finally exert his dominance. "This," he snarled as he punctuated words with more blows. "Is what you get for being a bad and disobedient brat!" He brought Jazz's hands up, holding them by his wrists with one hand to immobilize them while he straddled Jazz's legs. Jazz was still dazzled and could do nothing to defend himself as more blows continued to fall on him.
Finally, once Ricochet had enough, he gripped Jazz's chin with his free hand, forcing his brother to look at him, though whether Jazz could see him or not was questionable. "See what you get for bein' disobedient, Jazz? Never forget that I'm the superior twin. Never!" Ricochet smirked as he panted and gasped, elated and excited beyond his expectations after having brought his twin down. "If only you'd listen to me," he rasped and brought his claws to wipe away the trickle of energon coming from Jazz's bottom lip after the plating gave away and tore.
Jazz could just barely understand his twin's words through the white noise left by his damaged sensor horn and his vision was filled with static. In hindsight, Jazz thought, maybe he should have shot the son of a glitch.
Ricochet was beyond himself in elation. The excitement and the satisfaction had become almost palpable, and the air around them seemed charged with electricity. With Jazz pinned down under him, defeated and seemingly helpless, Ricochet couldn't help but feel aroused. Jazz, who thought himself too good to interface with the lower ranks. Jazz, the sanctimonious bastard that would not seek Autobots but would freely give himself to the damned Decepticon Ricochet loathed so much.
The mere idea of his twin brother pinned under the Decepticon like Ricochet pinned Jazz now inflamed Ricochet. To even think of Jazz beneath that Decepticon, writhing and moaning, pleading and begging for overload; it sickened him and made him loathe his hypocritical twin. Ricochet's arousal increased as did his anger towards his brother, and before Jazz could even begin process what was going on, Ricochet's lips descended upon his own in a possessive kiss.
Jazz froze for just a moment before he began to buck weakly against his his twin, trying to pull his arms free but to no avail. His coordination was temporarily impaired, and his strength wasn't up to Ricochet's at the moment. Ever the defiant one, Jazz showed Ricochet just what he thought of his brother's 'affection' with a sharp bite to the other's upper lip, forcing his brother to break the contact. "What's yer fraggin' malfunction?!" Jazz spat angrily, uncaring of the energon drawn from his brother's lips now coloring Jazz's.
"Shut up!" Ricochet wiped away the energon left by his brother's bite and backhanded his twin, trying to keep him dazzled and uncoordinated. "You've long had this comin', brother."
Much to Jazz's chagrin, it seemed the bite had only served to further arouse Ricochet. His brother's exhilaration was all too evident Jazz could almost taste it in the thick ambient of the room, and he realized with horrible certainty that Ricochet was going to dispel that charge with him whether Jazz wanted it or not.
Jazz was not a mech of high morals and values, but fragging his own twin ranked very high in his list of life experiences he didn't care to delve in. Up until now, he never really hated Ricochet --he'd pitied him a few times in fact. Jazz knew that he and his brother were the end result of Optimus Prime trying to play god, and his experiment split a mech's ember to produce twin brothers, trying to replicate the rare occurrence that were Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. In essence, he was not so much a twin brother of Ricochet as he was a copy of him, a half of his ember that gained independence and a personality of its own.
The sibling relationship that was fed to them was part of Optimus' delusions. At first, Jazz had believed it, until he found records that detailed the experiments that led to their creation. Their frames were new and unique to themselves, the original ember's owner was not named Ricochet, and his appearance had been different, but all along, Ricochet always knew he had been the origin of them both. Jazz had truly never existed as a being before the splitting as his brother had never shown any of Jazz's characteristic traits before they became two mechs instead of one.
As far as Ricochet was concerned, he was the original mech and Jazz was a clone, and that Jazz was the one favored by Optimus Prime and pretty much everyone else always hit a sore spot. Jazz never cared to think too deeply about that, contenting himself with the simplicity of their sibling relationship and relishing in living the life he was given. His choice set a few boundaries he wasn't willing to cross; he knew Ricochet too well to feel any kind of desire or attraction for him; it was all power play and managed to incite no lust from Jazz. As far as he was concerned, if he was going to see his own face contorted in psychotic pleasure, he'd rather self service with a mirror in front of himself.
"Too much thinking, little brother." Ricochet hissed against Jazz's damaged horn, biting down hard on the already damaged component, drawing an anguished cry of pain from Jazz. "Gonna beg me to stop?"
Jazz's hands struggled again against Ricochet's hold, bucking weakly against him although his sensors and systems were still far too sluggish in their response. He knew what Ricochet wanted and Jazz would rather be smelted alive than to give his brother the satisfaction of having power over his will and ember.
Ricochet smirked down at Jazz and applied more pressure and strength to the grip around Jazz's wrists. Ricochet's gaze behind the visor was already unfocused, drunk with the excitement and arousal. He was far from being very rational, and he demonstrated this when he brought his face to the crook of Jazz's neck giving a long sweeping lick along the bundle of cables and wires partly hidden behind a couple of plates protecting his neck's base structure. Jazz was half-worried Ricochet would try to bite off the cables and wires to further incapacitate him, but the repulsion he felt by the stain of his brother's tongue took precedence over his worry.
"Little brother..." Ricochet purred and nibbled on the wiring, finding delight in the tension he could feel on Jazz's body right before the pinned mech tried to buck again. "Just thinkin' that you would want to give yourself to that scum...oh, it makes me so mad." Ricochet brought his free hand to Jazz's chest plates and traced a claw down along the red strip on the middle of his chest, down towards the grill with the protruding point.
Jazz tensed again and bit down a hiss as he tried to struggle to free his hands again but to no avail. With so much excitement and pent up energy running through him, Ricochet was temporarily stronger than the weakened Jazz. He wanted to demand to be let go, but he knew that was exactly what Ricochet wanted and was forced to hold it back.
"Have you let him behind your panel already? Have you stained yourself with his stench?" Ricochet kept talking for the sake of talking, not really expecting a willing answer from Jazz. "How demeanin'." He traced his tongue up towards the underside of Jazz's jaw. "Ya ought to learn your place, Jazz."
"Shut up..." Jazz rasped back, tilting his head back to try to pull it away from his brother's reach, wishing that his sensors stabilized somewhat so he could get his twin off him and deliver some violence back to him. It was true that Jazz would rather give himself to the Decepticon his brother so much loathed, but said opportunity had never come, and that only served to make Jazz's feelings towards his sibling change from pity or indifference towards a much darker sentiment.
"Can't accept the truth, 'bro'?" Ricochet nuzzled Jazz's neck again in a mock of a tender caress, something that Jazz found more offensive and demeaning than if Ricochet had slapped him while he abused his body. "Gotta clean you up, Jazz...all full of that Decepticon filth."
Jazz was growing weaker bit by bit, but his temperament and defiance grew in tandem. He growled in a mixture of discomfort and pain when Ricochet brought his mouth to his damaged horn once more, delivering another cruel bite that forced a keen out of Jazz's vocal processor and blurred his vision even further. It was likely Jazz would not be able to stand on his own and keep his balance for at least a few joors due to the damaged sensor horn.
"Open up, Jazz." Ricochet brought one knee between Jazz's legs to spread them apart, bumping that knee against Jazz's pelvic plating.
"Frag you..!" Jazz hissed as his leg shivered in sluggish responses to Jazz's processors trying to order the leg up to kick the mech atop him.
"No Jazz..." Ricochet laughed as his face contorted in an ugly and wide smirk. "Frag you!" Not willing to wait until Jazz decided to be cooperative, Ricochet brought his blunt claws to the black and blue pelvic plating, feeling around for the hairline seam of his panel. Once he found it, he dug his claws in, mangling the edges as he tried to force the plate to retract or he could tear it off, whatever happened first.
Jazz once again tried to bring his legs up to push Ricochet away from him to no avail. He bit his lower lip both in frustration that he was in such a state he couldn't fight back and to muffle a little cry of pain as he felt the hydraulics that kept the panel closed struggle against the superior strength of Ricochet's whole arm. The plate was beginning to twist and deform further as Ricochet kept pushing upwards while the hydraulics managed to remain locked in place for the time being.
Finally, Ricochet won his battle against the panel cover and the plate slid up although not completely. Jazz growled and struggled to get his arms free, his lower body twitching and contorting as he tried to will it to move and stop Ricochet. Jazz tensed and grunted in pain as two clawed fingers were shoved roughly into his dry entrance. His jaws were clenched tight and locked in this position to minimize the sounds he could make, unwilling to offline his vocal processor at this time.
The feeling of those fingers pushing into him was as painful as it was unwanted. The lack of lubrication and the stretching caused by both fingers caused irritation along the sensitive walls. The friction burnt like acid, and the carelessness of the claws added more pain and discomfort that caused his body to twitch and buckle in its weakened state.
The pain his whole body was being subjected to now was inconsequential to Jazz compared to the storm brewing in his processors and the erratic pulses of his ember. He was furious beyond what words could describe, but he was also spiraling into a pool of anguish just at the thought of who was doing this to him and why.
Ricochet pushed his fingers as far into Jazz as they would go, relishing on the feeling of his brother's inherent warmth and he almost wished the Decepticon was right there to see him so Ricochet could taunt him. "Oh, do you wrap yourself around him like this, little brother? I bet you wish it was him right now, huh?" He began to move the fingers in and out of Jazz, trying to stimulate him into producing some amount of lubricant as he didn't want to burn himself.
Jazz's body was far from aroused and producing lubricant was not coming neither fast nor steady, but like any system, his body responded just barely to whatever amount of stimulation it got. Ricochet was known to have a mild appeal for pain, having long learned to enjoy the sensation of pain and turn it into pleasure when he was excited in the throes of a battle. Countless times, Jazz had witnessed his brother experience a mild form of overload in the middle of a battle or shortly before the end of one, and it was likely a little pain in the middle of 'facing would only translate as pleasure for Ricochet.
Never one to demonstrate a great patience about anything in his life, Ricochet quickly grew tired of waiting for Jazz's body to produce more lubricant for him and pulled his fingers out. He smiled at the thin layer of translucent fluid that emitted a very faint glow. Keeping his hold steady on Jazz's wrists and using his legs to keep Jazz's as trapped as possible, Ricochet brought those fingers to his lips to taste Jazz, making a show of it as he savored the tangy taste of his rebellious copy.
"To think you won't let others of your own kind taste this but would let that scum feast on it." Ricochet purred as he licked the lubricant, making sure he left enough to coat himself with later on. He could see in his processors the sight of his brother laying on the ground, legs spread wide and bearing his hardly touched components for the Decepticon while the scum lapped the lubricant greedily. That thought angered him and renewed his desire to 'cleanse' his brother's body of the stain of that Decepticon's presence within him. His own panel slid open with an ominous hiss, and Ricochet brought his fingers back to Jazz's entrance to gather more lubricant, spreading the fluid along his components.
There was no warning, no words spoken to announce the proverbial cleansing of the sinner. Only a sharp gasp and choked whimper came from Jazz as Ricochet pushed forth into his brother's body who shuddered in delight at the mere thought of what he was doing. The going was slow as Jazz wasn't lubricated enough and he was too tense to allow Ricochet to push forth faster. When he was finally sheathed completely in Jazz's body, he licked his lips as he gazed down at the defeated Jazz, convinced that his little brother understood now that Ricochet was the superior twin.
The pause was brief, giving Jazz little reprieve as Ricochet began to pull out and thrust back in, setting a hard, bruising pace that was painful but pleasurable for himself. He'd had many casual partners in the past, mostly mechs of the lower ranks that sampled the taste of the Autobot elite through Ricochet, but quantity didn't necessarily mean quality, and Ricochet found that taking his brother was more sexually satisfying than he ever thought it would be.
The sense of power and dominance that coursed through his very being as he watched Jazz continue his useless struggles filled him with such delight it was inebriating to him. It further increased his arousal and the electric charge that now began to crackle around him as sign of impending overload. His thrusts became faster and nearly savage, the sound of his plating impacting against Jazz's as he rammed against him thrust after thrust.
Overload crashed over Ricochet like a ton of iron blocks dropped from several feet above his head. He grunted deliriously as he overloaded into his brother's body and couldn't help but feel an enormous satisfaction at the very thought; instead of that blasted Decepticon, it was his fluid which filled his brother.
Lost in the blissful aftermath of his overload, Ricochet failed to realize Jazz had stopped struggling and only his hips twitched and his thighs trembled in reaction to the harsh treatment. Still dazzled by his climax, Ricochet lowered himself closer to his brother, intent on adding the proverbial energon goody on top of his energon shake. It was a mistake he realized too late after Jazz tossed his head against Ricochet's, effectively head-butting the overload off his whole being.
Crying out in pain, Ricochet brought both hands up to his face and committed another mistake in releasing Jazz's hands. Albeit weak and certainly not functioning to acceptable standards, Jazz coordinated himself enough to reach for his twin's discarded rifle and swung the weapon against his brother's side, which was enough to send Ricochet out of balance. Jazz struggled with himself, his almost complete lack of hearing and partial blindness and managed to extricate himself away from Ricochet.
Jazz crawled away from Ricochet, too many thoughts running through his processor but one took precedence over everything else: he was furious. He managed to stand up, wobbling and gripping the handle of the rifle as if it was the only thing keeping him somewhat upright. "Y'got ten kliks t'get yer sorry aft outta here..." Jazz knew killing Ricochet, while incredibly appealing right now, would do him no good when it came to having to explain to Optimus Prime why he was missing a bodyguard. It didn't mean Jazz was going to let the fragger off the hook that easily.
Ricochet regained some measure of composure, his components had already retracted and his panel was closed. Jazz's unexpected attack had cracked his visor and a part of his face, but otherwise he was in much better shape than the other mech by far. He stood up, still dizzy from his overload and the hit he'd received, looking at his brother that stood a couple of feet away, gripping the rifle, legs spread enough to support him while his own fluids dripped down to the floor as Jazz's damaged panel was still retracted.
"Get outta my sight!" Jazz cried and demonstrated he had enough coordination fueled by his anger to hold the rifle up and shoot his twin, blowing off part of the solder on his fresh repairs.
Pain and self preservation kicked in, and Ricochet gripped his side before he bolted to his feet and out of the room to seek repairs and security some other place. Preferably far away from Jazz at least for a while.
With the last of his anger-induced strength finally gone, Jazz dropped the rifle and staggered to his berth just to collapse on top as soon as he reached the platform. He hurt in more places that he cared to identify, his body ached so much from the pain induced by the beating down as much as it did from the pain of his brother's abuse. He was going to need repairs as soon as possible but right now he didn't care to inform anyone of his sorry state, both physical and psychological. He was beyond furious for what had just happened. Both with Ricochet and with himself.
Jazz knew killing Ricochet with his own hands was out of the picture, but the alternating feelings of pity and indifference he once felt for his sibling were now replaced with a dark, growing lust to bring about his demise. Even if he couldn't kill him himself he'd find a way to get back at him for what he'd done. His anger only kept on growing the more he thought about why his brother had ravaged him like he did and of what he'd robbed him.
Optimus Prime would not be pleased if Jazz killed Ricochet that night in retribution even if Ricochet had earned a painful and slow death with flying colors. No, their leader would not care for what Jazz had just suffered, but the damage inflicted to his bodyguard and the need of the medics to expend materials to repair him when those could go to Omega Doom was sure to put Ricochet in Optimus Prime's 'slag-list' at least for a while. Jazz had only defended himself and the damage Ricochet sustained was nothing compared to what was inflicted on Jazz.
It was a small consolation, but for the time being, reinforcing Prime's favoritism towards him sufficed to turn Ricochet's actions around him. It was a start but it wasn't the end of this. He'd bring him down.
Verse: Shattered Glass AU
Rating: NC-17 like seriously.
Words: 5288
Characters: Jazz, Ricochet.
Warnings: Violence, Non-con, twincest, sticky. Possibly triggering.
Summary: Ricochet's jealousy, rancor and obsession become too much to bear and he decides it's time to act and set a record straight.
Notes: I got a random bunny that demanded to be written to play with the canonical rivalry Ricochet has towards Jazz in Shattered Glass. This is not meant to be pretty and it's my first real time writing non-con. I'm not sure where this fits in my own SG verse. It probably happens at some point before or after Baby, You're Sick. There might or might not be a follow up with the mentioned 'Decepticon'.
Thanks to nkfloofiepoof for beta-reading this for me on short notice, and wicked3659 & eerian_sadow for both encouraging me to write the bunny and for helping me to make sure this made sense.
All his life, all Ricochet had desired the most was respect and power although Jazz would be quick to amend his brother's desires to 'power and be feared'. He wasn't going to get much higher than his current position afforded him in the ladder of hierarchy in the Autobot army, and Jazz particularly preferred they stayed that way when the competition for the higher ranks included the likes of Ironhide, Goldbug and Hot Rod.
Jazz was alright with staying in his high profile but still grunt-level position as Optimus Prime's bodyguard. It afforded him a level of familiarity with the overlord, made him required to a certain level and Optimus Prime didn't feel any concerns about their loyalty which afforded them a few luxuries for their service.
For Ricochet, that wasn't enough, though. Jazz was well aware that his twin's feigned borderline insanity was just a facade for a mech that aspired to much more. If Ricochet could have his way Jazz would disappear in the most unfortunate of situations, bravely deactivated fulfilling his duty as bodyguard to their lord and ruler. Much to his chagrin Jazz seemed to not only be blessed with the favor of Optimus over Ricochet but was also slagging lucky in that he always stayed more or less unharmed while Ricochet could sustain more considerable wounds.
Ricochet loathed the attention and favor Jazz received but also loathed that his copy was not submissive at all towards him. For the most part, their relationship was decent enough with Ricochet often swaying between the older brother role and that of the reckless half of the pair --He wanted Jazz to follow him, to obey him, but Jazz seemed to take whatever authority Ricochet hoped to have and turned it around so it was Ricochet becoming the follower. But deep down, Ricochet hoped Jazz would sometime perish to leave him as Prime's favorite. He'd gone as far as to come up with operations of his own not previously approved by Optimus Prime or anyone only to have his efforts yield the opposite reaction.
Now things were becoming even more tense amongst them thanks to Jazz's little fancy for a Decepticon growing steadily rather than receding. Even though the majority of the Autobots, Optimus Prime included, had no reservation about taking a Decepticon prisoner for their own pleasure, Ricochet was disgusted with the mere thought of his brother taking a Decepticon as his lover, especially knowing Jazz's desires weren't limited to simply forcing the Decepticon to bring him physical pleasure.
He couldn't fathom how his brother, a half of his very own ember --a half he'd not parted with willingly- could even harbor any kind of interest for a Decepticon and going so far as to threaten him if he ever laid a claw on the object of his twisted affections. This affront was not to be forgiven, and Jazz needed to be reminded once and for all that Ricochet was the original spark and he owed him obedience.
Ricochet brought a hand to his abdominal plates, stroking the fresh welds left behind by a recent battle. As it was becoming usual, his recklessness and utter abandon in the battlefield had afforded him a few injuries while Jazz had gone unscathed. This only served to make him angrier at his twin brother and his determination to set the record straight with Jazz.
Jazz made no move to acknowledge the arrival of his twin despite the purposeful racket Ricochet had made to announce his presence. Currently laying down on his berth, Jazz's attention was absorbed by the contents of a data pad held in one black hand while his other arm cushioned his helm. Ricochet, who was a creature forever hungry for some kind of attention or acknowledgment, did not appreciate his brother was usually one of the mechs that ignored him the most.
"Slaggin' Decepticons!" Ricochet muttered as he stomped, literally, to his berth. "I can't wait until they are all wiped from existence."
Jazz didn't bother to look away from his pad's screen, long used to Ricochet's grumbling and complaining. Sometimes Jazz believed that Ricochet talked and complained so much simply because he was enamored of his own voice.
"And what the slag are you readin' now?" Ricochet growled as he glared at his brother.
"It's just the spread o' specifications fer Omega Doom." Jazz muttered and finally looked to his brother, giving him a quick swipe with his optics to assess his damage. "Ya really ought t'stop tryin' to be the champion yer not, bro. Prime's new bot-toy is gonna be material intensive, an' repairin' ya ain't gonna be one of the docs' most immediate concerns right now when that solder can go to Omega."
Ricochet's glare intensified. "You're not in any position to tell me what I should or shouldn't do," he barked as his already limited patience began to wear thin.
"Whatever ya say," Jazz muttered with a shrug. He'd long given up trying to reason with Ricochet; he was too single-minded and stubborn to try to look at the bigger picture.
Without speaking another word, Ricochet glared at Jazz for a while as his processor took to refresh his list of every little thing he disliked about his brother. It only served to increase Ricochet's frustration and anger towards Jazz and his perceived defiance to some kind of established natural order.
"Take a picture, bro. It'll last longer," Jazz muttered after a while, tired of sensing his brother's glare concentrated on him and wishing he would go somewhere else to torment some lesser mech in the grunts' barracks and leave him well alone just so he could focus on his study.
"That's enough!" Ricochet growled loudly and stood up, stalking up to his brother's berth to slap the pad away from Jazz's hand. "I'm done with this attitude of yours!"
"Hey!" Jazz sat up and pushed his brother away to regain some of his personal space. "What's yer slaggin' problem now?"
"You are my problem!" Ricochet cried dramatically, gesturing wildly towards Jazz. "Just look at yourself, Jazz! Look at that ridiculous color scheme of yours and your lack of ambition! For ember's sake, Jazz ya even got the hots for a slagging Decepticon! What does Optimus Prime see in you that he'll favor you instead of me?!"
Jazz groaned and brought a hand to his helm, having heard this litany far too many times for his taste. "Y'gonna start with this again? Seriously, bro, ya gotta drop this slag already." Jazz stood up and pushed past his twin, beginning to pace around the room. "I'm fraggin' sick of this, Ricochet."
Ricochet face darkened with a scowl, and his lips shifted into a snarl as he watched his brother pace. He let his optics run along Jazz's frame, so much like his own but also very different in every aspect. The way Jazz moved and carried himself was entirely different to the way Ricochet did --where Ricochet stalked and hunched over to try to make himself look more dangerous, Jazz had a more elegant and purposeful gait. The way Jazz's accent was thicker than Ricochet's but was more appealing to listen to. It seemed everything Jazz did always bested his brother's efforts to make himself noticeable.
Ricochet tried so hard to earn a higher place and to earn recognition and favor of their Prime, but it was Jazz who reaped all these benefits without even purposefully trying. It wasn't fair that his copy, his clone he was forced to acknowledge as a twin brother, would get all he ever wanted without even vying for it. Enough was enough.
Without warning, Jazz suddenly felt a fist connect hard with his abdominal plating, followed by another vicious punch to the side of his helm right below his sensory horns. To his credit, Jazz managed to stay upright despite his confusion and managed to bring an arm up just in time to block another punch, returning the fire with a swift kick to his brother's side. Ricochet hissed in pain and stumbled back, bringing a hand to his side where Jazz had kicked the tender welds.
Jazz took a step back, his optics wide behind the blue visor. "What the frag is wrong with ya?!" He cried as he tried to process what had just happened. Before he could say anything else, Ricochet was again on him, throwing punches and kicks without abandon. Jazz didn't often engage in one-on-one combat like his brother did, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of defending himself from this kind of assault. Jazz blocked as many kicks and punches as he could manage and dished out a few of his own.
They locked in a stalemate of sorts as both twins gave as much as they got. Their strength was relatively even, and their training had been the same. Their endurance was where the scales tipped in favor of Ricochet as he often engaged in physical fights with several mechs at the same time or mechs much bigger and stronger than himself. Jazz usually preferred to conserve his strength and keep his potential injuries to a minimum, relying on his weapons to give him an edge or keep him long ranged.
Ricochet threw a kick at Jazz that was followed by a swipe with his blunt claws that Jazz barely managed to dodge. Jazz gave a couple of small hops back to gain some room to maneuver, and brought a hand up just in time to block a high kick, he then brought his free hand up to grip the leg and twist it quickly, forcing Ricochet down and giving Jazz the chance to set more distance between them, he didn't want to be trapped against Ricochet's berth.
Ricochet did not remain in the ground for long, quickly rolling back onto his feet to lunge at his brother with his claws bared, he took a couple of swipes before he was forced to take a couple of steps back against a nearby table, courtesy of his twin's knee against his abdominal area. Jazz elbowed his brother's helm but the effect was partly lost as Ricochet managed a powerful punch under his bumper, and one of the headlights cracked. Jazz staggered back and barely managed to dodge another successions of kicks and punches.
Knowing that Ricochet could go on like this longer than Jazz, the black and white twin looked around the room to find something, anything, that could grant him that edge and help him knock his brother down without damaging him severely. Shooting Ricochet down or stabbing him with one of his hidden blades was doable at this point, but despite their rocky relationship, Jazz wasn't invested on the idea of shooting his twin yet.
Ricochet seemed to catch on Jazz's thoughts and weakness and took action before Jazz could. Pulling his rifle out of subspace, he used the wider side of the T-shaped weapon like a hammer and slammed it hard against Jazz's helm with a powerful swing. Jazz grunted in pain as his vision turned black, and for a few seconds, he couldn't tell up from down until Ricochet pinned him to the ground.
Jazz was now sporting a sizable dent on his helm and was dazed enough that Ricochet had no problem dominating his brother. With near savage abandon, he continued to punch at that area, wanting to make sure the other mech remained incapacitated long enough for him to finally exert his dominance. "This," he snarled as he punctuated words with more blows. "Is what you get for being a bad and disobedient brat!" He brought Jazz's hands up, holding them by his wrists with one hand to immobilize them while he straddled Jazz's legs. Jazz was still dazzled and could do nothing to defend himself as more blows continued to fall on him.
Finally, once Ricochet had enough, he gripped Jazz's chin with his free hand, forcing his brother to look at him, though whether Jazz could see him or not was questionable. "See what you get for bein' disobedient, Jazz? Never forget that I'm the superior twin. Never!" Ricochet smirked as he panted and gasped, elated and excited beyond his expectations after having brought his twin down. "If only you'd listen to me," he rasped and brought his claws to wipe away the trickle of energon coming from Jazz's bottom lip after the plating gave away and tore.
Jazz could just barely understand his twin's words through the white noise left by his damaged sensor horn and his vision was filled with static. In hindsight, Jazz thought, maybe he should have shot the son of a glitch.
Ricochet was beyond himself in elation. The excitement and the satisfaction had become almost palpable, and the air around them seemed charged with electricity. With Jazz pinned down under him, defeated and seemingly helpless, Ricochet couldn't help but feel aroused. Jazz, who thought himself too good to interface with the lower ranks. Jazz, the sanctimonious bastard that would not seek Autobots but would freely give himself to the damned Decepticon Ricochet loathed so much.
The mere idea of his twin brother pinned under the Decepticon like Ricochet pinned Jazz now inflamed Ricochet. To even think of Jazz beneath that Decepticon, writhing and moaning, pleading and begging for overload; it sickened him and made him loathe his hypocritical twin. Ricochet's arousal increased as did his anger towards his brother, and before Jazz could even begin process what was going on, Ricochet's lips descended upon his own in a possessive kiss.
Jazz froze for just a moment before he began to buck weakly against his his twin, trying to pull his arms free but to no avail. His coordination was temporarily impaired, and his strength wasn't up to Ricochet's at the moment. Ever the defiant one, Jazz showed Ricochet just what he thought of his brother's 'affection' with a sharp bite to the other's upper lip, forcing his brother to break the contact. "What's yer fraggin' malfunction?!" Jazz spat angrily, uncaring of the energon drawn from his brother's lips now coloring Jazz's.
"Shut up!" Ricochet wiped away the energon left by his brother's bite and backhanded his twin, trying to keep him dazzled and uncoordinated. "You've long had this comin', brother."
Much to Jazz's chagrin, it seemed the bite had only served to further arouse Ricochet. His brother's exhilaration was all too evident Jazz could almost taste it in the thick ambient of the room, and he realized with horrible certainty that Ricochet was going to dispel that charge with him whether Jazz wanted it or not.
Jazz was not a mech of high morals and values, but fragging his own twin ranked very high in his list of life experiences he didn't care to delve in. Up until now, he never really hated Ricochet --he'd pitied him a few times in fact. Jazz knew that he and his brother were the end result of Optimus Prime trying to play god, and his experiment split a mech's ember to produce twin brothers, trying to replicate the rare occurrence that were Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. In essence, he was not so much a twin brother of Ricochet as he was a copy of him, a half of his ember that gained independence and a personality of its own.
The sibling relationship that was fed to them was part of Optimus' delusions. At first, Jazz had believed it, until he found records that detailed the experiments that led to their creation. Their frames were new and unique to themselves, the original ember's owner was not named Ricochet, and his appearance had been different, but all along, Ricochet always knew he had been the origin of them both. Jazz had truly never existed as a being before the splitting as his brother had never shown any of Jazz's characteristic traits before they became two mechs instead of one.
As far as Ricochet was concerned, he was the original mech and Jazz was a clone, and that Jazz was the one favored by Optimus Prime and pretty much everyone else always hit a sore spot. Jazz never cared to think too deeply about that, contenting himself with the simplicity of their sibling relationship and relishing in living the life he was given. His choice set a few boundaries he wasn't willing to cross; he knew Ricochet too well to feel any kind of desire or attraction for him; it was all power play and managed to incite no lust from Jazz. As far as he was concerned, if he was going to see his own face contorted in psychotic pleasure, he'd rather self service with a mirror in front of himself.
"Too much thinking, little brother." Ricochet hissed against Jazz's damaged horn, biting down hard on the already damaged component, drawing an anguished cry of pain from Jazz. "Gonna beg me to stop?"
Jazz's hands struggled again against Ricochet's hold, bucking weakly against him although his sensors and systems were still far too sluggish in their response. He knew what Ricochet wanted and Jazz would rather be smelted alive than to give his brother the satisfaction of having power over his will and ember.
Ricochet smirked down at Jazz and applied more pressure and strength to the grip around Jazz's wrists. Ricochet's gaze behind the visor was already unfocused, drunk with the excitement and arousal. He was far from being very rational, and he demonstrated this when he brought his face to the crook of Jazz's neck giving a long sweeping lick along the bundle of cables and wires partly hidden behind a couple of plates protecting his neck's base structure. Jazz was half-worried Ricochet would try to bite off the cables and wires to further incapacitate him, but the repulsion he felt by the stain of his brother's tongue took precedence over his worry.
"Little brother..." Ricochet purred and nibbled on the wiring, finding delight in the tension he could feel on Jazz's body right before the pinned mech tried to buck again. "Just thinkin' that you would want to give yourself to that scum...oh, it makes me so mad." Ricochet brought his free hand to Jazz's chest plates and traced a claw down along the red strip on the middle of his chest, down towards the grill with the protruding point.
Jazz tensed again and bit down a hiss as he tried to struggle to free his hands again but to no avail. With so much excitement and pent up energy running through him, Ricochet was temporarily stronger than the weakened Jazz. He wanted to demand to be let go, but he knew that was exactly what Ricochet wanted and was forced to hold it back.
"Have you let him behind your panel already? Have you stained yourself with his stench?" Ricochet kept talking for the sake of talking, not really expecting a willing answer from Jazz. "How demeanin'." He traced his tongue up towards the underside of Jazz's jaw. "Ya ought to learn your place, Jazz."
"Shut up..." Jazz rasped back, tilting his head back to try to pull it away from his brother's reach, wishing that his sensors stabilized somewhat so he could get his twin off him and deliver some violence back to him. It was true that Jazz would rather give himself to the Decepticon his brother so much loathed, but said opportunity had never come, and that only served to make Jazz's feelings towards his sibling change from pity or indifference towards a much darker sentiment.
"Can't accept the truth, 'bro'?" Ricochet nuzzled Jazz's neck again in a mock of a tender caress, something that Jazz found more offensive and demeaning than if Ricochet had slapped him while he abused his body. "Gotta clean you up, Jazz...all full of that Decepticon filth."
Jazz was growing weaker bit by bit, but his temperament and defiance grew in tandem. He growled in a mixture of discomfort and pain when Ricochet brought his mouth to his damaged horn once more, delivering another cruel bite that forced a keen out of Jazz's vocal processor and blurred his vision even further. It was likely Jazz would not be able to stand on his own and keep his balance for at least a few joors due to the damaged sensor horn.
"Open up, Jazz." Ricochet brought one knee between Jazz's legs to spread them apart, bumping that knee against Jazz's pelvic plating.
"Frag you..!" Jazz hissed as his leg shivered in sluggish responses to Jazz's processors trying to order the leg up to kick the mech atop him.
"No Jazz..." Ricochet laughed as his face contorted in an ugly and wide smirk. "Frag you!" Not willing to wait until Jazz decided to be cooperative, Ricochet brought his blunt claws to the black and blue pelvic plating, feeling around for the hairline seam of his panel. Once he found it, he dug his claws in, mangling the edges as he tried to force the plate to retract or he could tear it off, whatever happened first.
Jazz once again tried to bring his legs up to push Ricochet away from him to no avail. He bit his lower lip both in frustration that he was in such a state he couldn't fight back and to muffle a little cry of pain as he felt the hydraulics that kept the panel closed struggle against the superior strength of Ricochet's whole arm. The plate was beginning to twist and deform further as Ricochet kept pushing upwards while the hydraulics managed to remain locked in place for the time being.
Finally, Ricochet won his battle against the panel cover and the plate slid up although not completely. Jazz growled and struggled to get his arms free, his lower body twitching and contorting as he tried to will it to move and stop Ricochet. Jazz tensed and grunted in pain as two clawed fingers were shoved roughly into his dry entrance. His jaws were clenched tight and locked in this position to minimize the sounds he could make, unwilling to offline his vocal processor at this time.
The feeling of those fingers pushing into him was as painful as it was unwanted. The lack of lubrication and the stretching caused by both fingers caused irritation along the sensitive walls. The friction burnt like acid, and the carelessness of the claws added more pain and discomfort that caused his body to twitch and buckle in its weakened state.
The pain his whole body was being subjected to now was inconsequential to Jazz compared to the storm brewing in his processors and the erratic pulses of his ember. He was furious beyond what words could describe, but he was also spiraling into a pool of anguish just at the thought of who was doing this to him and why.
Ricochet pushed his fingers as far into Jazz as they would go, relishing on the feeling of his brother's inherent warmth and he almost wished the Decepticon was right there to see him so Ricochet could taunt him. "Oh, do you wrap yourself around him like this, little brother? I bet you wish it was him right now, huh?" He began to move the fingers in and out of Jazz, trying to stimulate him into producing some amount of lubricant as he didn't want to burn himself.
Jazz's body was far from aroused and producing lubricant was not coming neither fast nor steady, but like any system, his body responded just barely to whatever amount of stimulation it got. Ricochet was known to have a mild appeal for pain, having long learned to enjoy the sensation of pain and turn it into pleasure when he was excited in the throes of a battle. Countless times, Jazz had witnessed his brother experience a mild form of overload in the middle of a battle or shortly before the end of one, and it was likely a little pain in the middle of 'facing would only translate as pleasure for Ricochet.
Never one to demonstrate a great patience about anything in his life, Ricochet quickly grew tired of waiting for Jazz's body to produce more lubricant for him and pulled his fingers out. He smiled at the thin layer of translucent fluid that emitted a very faint glow. Keeping his hold steady on Jazz's wrists and using his legs to keep Jazz's as trapped as possible, Ricochet brought those fingers to his lips to taste Jazz, making a show of it as he savored the tangy taste of his rebellious copy.
"To think you won't let others of your own kind taste this but would let that scum feast on it." Ricochet purred as he licked the lubricant, making sure he left enough to coat himself with later on. He could see in his processors the sight of his brother laying on the ground, legs spread wide and bearing his hardly touched components for the Decepticon while the scum lapped the lubricant greedily. That thought angered him and renewed his desire to 'cleanse' his brother's body of the stain of that Decepticon's presence within him. His own panel slid open with an ominous hiss, and Ricochet brought his fingers back to Jazz's entrance to gather more lubricant, spreading the fluid along his components.
There was no warning, no words spoken to announce the proverbial cleansing of the sinner. Only a sharp gasp and choked whimper came from Jazz as Ricochet pushed forth into his brother's body who shuddered in delight at the mere thought of what he was doing. The going was slow as Jazz wasn't lubricated enough and he was too tense to allow Ricochet to push forth faster. When he was finally sheathed completely in Jazz's body, he licked his lips as he gazed down at the defeated Jazz, convinced that his little brother understood now that Ricochet was the superior twin.
The pause was brief, giving Jazz little reprieve as Ricochet began to pull out and thrust back in, setting a hard, bruising pace that was painful but pleasurable for himself. He'd had many casual partners in the past, mostly mechs of the lower ranks that sampled the taste of the Autobot elite through Ricochet, but quantity didn't necessarily mean quality, and Ricochet found that taking his brother was more sexually satisfying than he ever thought it would be.
The sense of power and dominance that coursed through his very being as he watched Jazz continue his useless struggles filled him with such delight it was inebriating to him. It further increased his arousal and the electric charge that now began to crackle around him as sign of impending overload. His thrusts became faster and nearly savage, the sound of his plating impacting against Jazz's as he rammed against him thrust after thrust.
Overload crashed over Ricochet like a ton of iron blocks dropped from several feet above his head. He grunted deliriously as he overloaded into his brother's body and couldn't help but feel an enormous satisfaction at the very thought; instead of that blasted Decepticon, it was his fluid which filled his brother.
Lost in the blissful aftermath of his overload, Ricochet failed to realize Jazz had stopped struggling and only his hips twitched and his thighs trembled in reaction to the harsh treatment. Still dazzled by his climax, Ricochet lowered himself closer to his brother, intent on adding the proverbial energon goody on top of his energon shake. It was a mistake he realized too late after Jazz tossed his head against Ricochet's, effectively head-butting the overload off his whole being.
Crying out in pain, Ricochet brought both hands up to his face and committed another mistake in releasing Jazz's hands. Albeit weak and certainly not functioning to acceptable standards, Jazz coordinated himself enough to reach for his twin's discarded rifle and swung the weapon against his brother's side, which was enough to send Ricochet out of balance. Jazz struggled with himself, his almost complete lack of hearing and partial blindness and managed to extricate himself away from Ricochet.
Jazz crawled away from Ricochet, too many thoughts running through his processor but one took precedence over everything else: he was furious. He managed to stand up, wobbling and gripping the handle of the rifle as if it was the only thing keeping him somewhat upright. "Y'got ten kliks t'get yer sorry aft outta here..." Jazz knew killing Ricochet, while incredibly appealing right now, would do him no good when it came to having to explain to Optimus Prime why he was missing a bodyguard. It didn't mean Jazz was going to let the fragger off the hook that easily.
Ricochet regained some measure of composure, his components had already retracted and his panel was closed. Jazz's unexpected attack had cracked his visor and a part of his face, but otherwise he was in much better shape than the other mech by far. He stood up, still dizzy from his overload and the hit he'd received, looking at his brother that stood a couple of feet away, gripping the rifle, legs spread enough to support him while his own fluids dripped down to the floor as Jazz's damaged panel was still retracted.
"Get outta my sight!" Jazz cried and demonstrated he had enough coordination fueled by his anger to hold the rifle up and shoot his twin, blowing off part of the solder on his fresh repairs.
Pain and self preservation kicked in, and Ricochet gripped his side before he bolted to his feet and out of the room to seek repairs and security some other place. Preferably far away from Jazz at least for a while.
With the last of his anger-induced strength finally gone, Jazz dropped the rifle and staggered to his berth just to collapse on top as soon as he reached the platform. He hurt in more places that he cared to identify, his body ached so much from the pain induced by the beating down as much as it did from the pain of his brother's abuse. He was going to need repairs as soon as possible but right now he didn't care to inform anyone of his sorry state, both physical and psychological. He was beyond furious for what had just happened. Both with Ricochet and with himself.
Jazz knew killing Ricochet with his own hands was out of the picture, but the alternating feelings of pity and indifference he once felt for his sibling were now replaced with a dark, growing lust to bring about his demise. Even if he couldn't kill him himself he'd find a way to get back at him for what he'd done. His anger only kept on growing the more he thought about why his brother had ravaged him like he did and of what he'd robbed him.
Optimus Prime would not be pleased if Jazz killed Ricochet that night in retribution even if Ricochet had earned a painful and slow death with flying colors. No, their leader would not care for what Jazz had just suffered, but the damage inflicted to his bodyguard and the need of the medics to expend materials to repair him when those could go to Omega Doom was sure to put Ricochet in Optimus Prime's 'slag-list' at least for a while. Jazz had only defended himself and the damage Ricochet sustained was nothing compared to what was inflicted on Jazz.
It was a small consolation, but for the time being, reinforcing Prime's favoritism towards him sufficed to turn Ricochet's actions around him. It was a start but it wasn't the end of this. He'd bring him down.