Unwelcome guest, co-author silberstreif for tf-speedwriting, part 1
Title: Unwelcome guest
Beta: The wonderful Starfire201
Warnings: M
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Soundwave
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, and not me.
Notes: Co-written with the amazing silberstreif for the tf-speedwriting community, the prompt: Unwelcome guest.
Unwelcome guest
It was unbelievable. They were in the very heart of the headquarters of the Decepticons in the middle of Kaon, surrounded by thousands of loyal Decepticons, hundreds of cameras and several dozens of other security measures. Yet, if Soundwave was right, just a few breems ago a saboteur and spy had been spotted in the mainframe room.
In Prowl's treasury.
The tactician wanted to scream in rage at the very thought that someone, anyone had touched his precious data.
With red, narrow optics he observed the running Decepticons who were all searching for the intruder after the red alert had been sounded by Ravage. So far, nothing. No sign of an Autobot anywhere.
"Saboteur: Elusive," said Soundwave next to him, confirming his thoughts.
Prowl crossed his arms, sharp claws twitching. "If he has downloaded even one of my plans, I want to see him crucified in the central plaza."
"Soundwave: Understands."
"Good." He looked at the telepath, one of the few Decepticons Prowl could truly stand. If they had both been more social, they might have been called friends. "What did Megatron say about the situation?"
Soundwave nearly winced. "Megatron: Displeased."
"Of course." Who wouldn't be? Prowl certainly was. "Did we already search sector 45?"
He would find the one who dared to touch his data. And make sure it never happened again.
~
Jazz sighed in frustration. Great, he had been spotted. Fragging telepaths and their stupid pets. Well, he hadn't been able to download everything, but the nasty virus uploaded was at least partially cheering him up. He would love to see the look on the Head Tactician's face once he discovered the chaos it would make out of those plans of his.
Unfortunately, Jazz was facing serious problem. How to get out?
It was near impossible, even for him, with this high level of security. The only solution was to lay low and wait, but his reserves were reaching their end and he hadn't recharged in two orns. He needed to find fuel soon, if he were to remain a guest here in the lovely company of the Decepticons. Or they would only find his grey, starved hull.
Out of better options, he hit the private quarters.
~
Two orns later without any recharge, even workaholics of Prowl's and Soundwave's calibre had to admit that they couldn't find the spy. It was as if he had vanished.
With a growl, Prowl leaned back in his chair. In a decaorn a big battle would come. He needed to prepare the plans for it. He needed recharge. Now.
He stood up. "I am going back to my quarters, Soundwave. If you find the Autobot, could you please comm me?" His optics flashed. "I would love to have a chance to chat with him."
Soundwave observed him neutrally. "Affirmative. Prowl: Back in four quartexes."
The tactician nodded.
He never recharged more than four quartexes, no matter what.
Tired and still angry, he walked back to his quarters. Decepticons scattered in front of him, all knowing by now about his mood. And the guard which he had sent for a whipping. By Vortex.
He entered his codes and stepped into his dark quarters. With a deep sigh, he relaxed. To some his rooms might seem empty, so empty that they could've been unused, but to him this was his sanctuary. The one place in the world in which nothing made him think.
Not bothering to turn on the lights, he stumbled to his berth and let himself fall into it
- and crashed into another mech.
~
Jazz was pleased with himself. He had landed in officers quarters that barely had been used. Nobody probably lived here. The place was devoid of any personal belongings and simply empty. Even if the Decepticons weren't known for their sentimentality, they at least never bothered to clean after themselves. This place was spotless.
And the berth! Oh, so soft. Probably made for a winger, seeker, maybe? He couldn't resist lying down on it. On a shelf next to the bed, he found energon cubes. Emergency rations, of course, but far better than nothing.
Yep. Here he could stay.
He waited the first shift. Then, the second. When still no mech came, he relaxed. He had really found an empty quarter. A small chuckle, his friends in Iacon would call him lucky again.
With that thought, he fell into a light recharge, finally defragging his from the hack strained processors. When he woke, he drank a bit more energon and stared bored at the ceiling, wishing he could already go home. But outside, Soundwave was surely still searching for him.
Jazz was contemplating on entering light recharge again, when the door suddenly opened. With a start, he gripped his blaster tight and waited to see what would happen. Overreacting got more saboteurs killed than anything else. Play it cool and you would be overlooked. Only he nearly dropped his weapon once he saw just who had entered.
Prowl? As in Head Tactician Prowl?
Frag.
Had he been spotted? Jazz had made sure his tracks were well hidden even from that freak of nature Soundwave. How had Prowl discovered... Only, Prowl wasn't even looking at the shadow on the berth. With dimmed optics, he watched as the Praxian made his way to it.
He wouldn't... Jazz thought as he watched the big frame hover over him and in the next moment a loud crash as metal crashed against metal.
~
Prowl didn't curse. No. Cursing was undignified, a show of unnecessary emotion and not enough control over a situation. But there had to be exceptions to every rule.
"What the frag...?!"
With a jump he was up again and falling out of his own berth, hand already in subspace searching for his blaster. There was a mech. In his berth.
And he had certainly not been invited into it.
"Who are you?" he growled and gave the command for light.
"Oh slag!" Within klicks Jazz was on the other side of the bare room, placing good distance between them, his blaster already aimed at Prowl. "What the frag are ya doing here?" he yelled.
"What I'm doing here...?" Prowl stared at the silver sleek mech as if he had grown another head. "I live here. This is my berth! What are you doing here?!"
"Wait, YOU live here? But... this place is bare!"
Prowl gritted his denta. "I like it bare." He really didn't need to talk about his decorative choices with a nameless berth-snatcher. "What is your name, soldier?" He would turn him into the lowest grunt, until he took orders from drones.
"What makes you think I'll tell ya?" Jazz had the nerve to smirk at him. Don't show fear. Keep calm. Stay cool and think.
Prowl's optics narrowed. He pulled his blaster out of subspace and pointed it at the intruder. "I will find out your designation one way or another, soldier. Be assured that not telling me will bring you pain though." He smiled darkly. "Much pain."
Jazz's processors worked at high speed, pulling everything he had on this mech, searching for what he could use as a bargain, but in the mean time, he had to keep the mech engaged to prevent him from calling for back up. That would be bad. Very much so.
"Pain?" Jazz grinned, "Good thing I'm a masochist. Tough luck mech."
"A masochist?" Prowl raised an optic ridge. "So you're a pleasure model? Who paid for you and sent you to my quarters?" Only pleasure models were built in with masochist codes and they were highly respected and sought after in the Decepticon army. After all, no one liked to have the one with whom you were just interfacing putting a dagger into your spark. The small rest who had masochistic codes tended to be unstable BlackOps operatives with a high risk for torture. Not bots with which Prowl liked to be associated.
"Who knows." Jazz shrugged, "Maybe Primus finally heard your prayers and decided to spare you the cruelty of a cold berth every night?" He quickly edited his insult into something else when he saw Prowl frown, "But tonight's your lucky night, mate! I am yours for the taking."
His Ops leader would Kill. Him. the moment he returned back to Iacon. Well, that was if he did return. Because even if the situation was already dangerous, he truly was a masochist. It was what made him so good at Ops. But if the Con found out, death was not his sentence but reprieve.
Prowl still frowned. "I don't like interfacing." He also showed no sign of lowering the blaster.
'Of course you don't,' Jazz wanted to voice out. That out would've been too easy.
"Maybe, I can offer you something else? I'm good with magnetic massages, too?"
"I didn't know that those belong to the abilities of pleasure models," said Prowl, sceptically.
"Eh... well, we all try to become better at what we do, right?"
Right. At least that was a sentiment Prowl could agree with. And he was still tired. Still stressed. Still angry. He looked at the mech in front of him, who had offered himself. "Who did you say again paid for you?"
Damn. Who had paid for him? No one. Worse, Prowl seemed exhausted, but sooner or later he would remember the very first sentences that they had exchanged and then he would shoot. After all, he was a Con. Shoot first, question later was their official motto! Who was Prowl friends with? Jazz's databanks came back empty. What the frag? He was friends with no one...? Wait... Who would be interested to do something nice for Prowl...
Soundwave.
Of all mechs. Prowl had to be playing nice with Soundwave. Typical.
"See, I was told by this little mech, a cassette or so, that I should come here and stay for five shifts. Paid and all, but then the room was bare and I thought that maybe it was a joke. Until you came..."
"A cassette," repeated the tactician slowly. "How long are you already here for?"
Not saying a time that coincided with the red alert... "A quartex, give or take a few breems."
Interesting. It would explain why Soundwave insisted on Prowl having a four-quartex-rest. Even so, he needed to verify this story.
"What did you say the name of the cassette was?"
"Uhh.." Think, think! "I think he called himself... Frenzy."
Prowl was already dialling Frenzy over the comms, his blaster still trained at the so called pleasure bot.
Jazz tried very hard not to show his rising panic. He was deactivated, dead, cold and grey. He probably only had seconds now to plan his next move. Should he kill the tactician or just try to evade him? No, he needed to stop him from alerting Soundwave again. So he had to attack... but despite being an office bot, Prowl wasn't a slouch in the fighting department... it all came back to it: Jazz was dead.
::Frenzy--:: started the tactician.
::It wasn't me! Don't believe them! It was all Rumble's idea!::
::You are not in trouble, Frenzy,:: Prowl explained patiently, far too used to the cassette's antics.
::Oh, then what is it?::
::Did you send a pleasure bot to my quarters?::
There was a long pause on the other side as the little cassette thought about what he had just heard. Sending a pleasure bot to Prowl's quarters had been an idea of Rumble and him for a long time, to try and loosen up the tight aft, but so far hadn't found the mech willing to do it. It was probably Rumble's doing. He would have to ask him later. But now, he had to make sure the prank wasn't ruined.
::Yup! It's our thank-you-gift for being such a ...uhg.. logical...tactician? Yeah, that's it.::
Damn. If only Rumble wasn't on a mission spying on those stupid bots. He was missing all the fun of his prank. Plus, Frenzy made a mental note to hit his brother for leaving him out on one of their most fun prank ever.
::Never do something like this without my permission. And how did you crack the code to my quarters?::
::Uhg... we stole the code from the boss?::
Of course. Despite their behaviour, the twins were Soundwave's cassettes and as such more than capable of stealing and other nefarious deeds. They not only had a spark talent for it, but Soundwave had trained them, too. Something that Prowl had more than once questioned the wisdom of.
::It would appear I need to have a talk with Soundwave about your manners.::
::So... do you like the surprise?::
Did he? Prowl asked himself as his optics swept over the nervous mech in front of him, looking him up and down. And he was a masochist...
::I am yet to determine that,:: was the clipped reply and the line went dead.
Frenzy grinned. In Prowl-speak that was as good as a solid "yes".
Prowl meanwhile looked at his 'present' again. "It seems that Frenzy has confirmed your story."
Jazz stared, not believing his luck. "He has?" He knew he was called lucky for a reason, but damn, it would seem that Primus really liked him.
"Yes." Prowl subspaced his gun. "On the berth with you. It's time you earn your credits."
Second part