Anniversary Fic 4/7
Title: The Fatal Flaw
Prompt: Must Keep Quiet
Verse: G1
Rating: T
Warnings: Ridiculousness, Murder (it doesn't really count guys, it's alright, he's an OC Decepticon)
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Mirage, cameo by Shockwave
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz
Summary: Prowl finds a major flaw in the Special Operations Emergency Kit
Notes: Written for the 2014 Prowl/Jazz Community Anniversary Challenge
"So tell me again why I was called out here?" Prowl whispered harshly, air hissing between his clenched denta as he surveyed the teeming courtyard of Dark Mount with a gleeful Jazz at his side, a modded helm set folded over his optics so that he could zoom in on the action below from his vantage point.
"I need some on-the-job tactics." The saboteur shrugged, leaning closer to his mate with an affectionate croon. "Besides it will be good for you to do some REAL work. Not that stuffy filing and mind puzzles you always seem to be doing."
"Jazz, stop while you are ahead." Mirage commented from somewhere to their left, invisible and quiet.
"Jazz, my 'Stuffy Filing and Mind Puzzles' is keeping your aft and several other ungrateful afts online on a daily basis. I refuse to die by a broken bond because you were stupid enough to go into a Decepticon base all guns blazing. If you do, you can tell Primus to shove the 'Simultaneous Death' condition up his tailpipe and I will see you when I am good and ready." Prowl growled, shoving his mate's puppy whining face away from him with the flat of his palm, clearly insulted when his doorwings flickered up and down as if the Tactician was restraining himself from physical violence. "Anyway, mute your vocaliser, isn't this supposed to be one of your 'Super Duper Sneaky Stealth Missions'?"
"See, it just sounds silly when you say it." Jazz huffed with a pout, looking away with a sniff, crossing his arms over his chest plates where a fake Decepticon brand had been painted on to help him blend in.
"The sparklings I work with..." Prowl muttered to himself, shaking his helm as they shuffled ever closer to a sly hole in the wall that hadn't been repaired yet after the Autobots had carried out a carefully planned airstrike, headed by Prowl himself through meticulously encrypted instructions.
Mirage was the first through, invisible as usual, almost running afoul of a tank-former when the brute trundled past with his spindly, much flashier companion. He beckoned Jazz and Prowl through with a soft sizzle of static, the two bondmates impressively melding in with the shadows like wraiths. The eerily easy way they stalked leant heavily to the fact that Prowl was once a black operations Commander for the Praxus Enforcers and Jazz, the well known leader of a crime syndicate.
Their mark for entering the inner complex undetected was a jumpy looking critter named Twitch. According to Jazz's intel he had once been a tour guide before the fall of Kaon and was often prone to responding automatically to questions about history, infrastructure or general directions before he could shut off his hard wired Tour Guide programming. He was due for a reprogramming the next orn, so they had to move quickly.
"Excuse me," Jazz whispered approaching the guard mech from the front as Prowl sub-spaced a dagger and slipped behind the unfortunate mech. "Could you point me in the direction of the Command Centre? It's my first orn and I'm a bit lost."
"Of course!" the blabber mouth replied, cheerfully prattling away the vital information before he could stop himself. "...and then it's the last right. Uh... I mean... Can I see your Officer ID?"
Twitch never saw Prowl, nor the energon dagger slipped cleanly between his chest plates. In fact, he never saw much of anything ever again.
Mirage grabbed the body, whisking it away in a flourish of disintegrating pixels as he spread his invisibility field so that he could search Twitch's subspace. Jazz on the other hand did a small victory dance in the shadows that he had bolted back to, earning him a slap over the back of the helm from an annoyed Prowl.
The blue and white noble tossed them a key card for the Command Centre, silently beckoning the two other mechs onward with a quiet affirmative that he would be their look out.
The Autobot Tactician inclined his helm in thanks, scaling the walls with an acrobatic grace, servos crackling with magnetic energy as he shuffled high into the shadows of the ceiling. Jazz stalked behind him, touching down gently onto to the maze of pipes and vents that crisscrossed all the way around the base. The pipes groaned quietly under the duo's weight, but didn't give way.
Then, when all was quiet in the corridors for twenty breems or so during the beginning of the next work shift, Prowl heard a loud crunch as he set one of his explosives, almost causing him to fall from the ceiling and set off his dangerous cargo as he jerked in surprise.
"Jazz! What the frag do you think you are doing?" He whisper shouted, fury in every letter and syllable he uttered, doorwings forming their characteristic 'v' shape as he turned to see what had made the startling noise.
"Eating my emergency ration?" Jazz asked back in complete confusion, an edible crystal studded rust stick hanging from between his lip plates. "Standard issue. It's really tasty, do you want one?" The black and white saboteur continued unaware of his mate's apocalyptic glare aimed at his helm, digging around in his sub-space before offering a stick from a small box of ten.
It was probably the offering of the noisy crunchy confection that set the Praxian off, or it could have been that he was having a bad day. But whatever it was, Jazz reasoned to himself later, after it was all said and done and he had had the slag beaten out of him by his own bondmate and Ratchet for not reporting the problem with the emergency rations; let it never be said that Prowl just had the worst timing sometimes.
"What part of 'We Must Keep Quiet' don't you understand?!?! Is it any wonder our Saboteurs are found and killed so easily?!" Prowl roared forgetting everything in the heat of the moment, his battle computer fizzling in his helm at the sheer ludicrousness as he slapped the rust sticks from his bondmate's grasp.
To make matters worse, Shockwave wandered out of his office, single optic trained on his datapad, only to receive a box of rust sticks bouncing on his helm just as the base wide alarm was tripped by Prowl's undignified breakdown screech when Jazz lunged after his rust sticks with a distressed battle cry.
Prompt: Must Keep Quiet
Verse: G1
Rating: T
Warnings: Ridiculousness, Murder (it doesn't really count guys, it's alright, he's an OC Decepticon)
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Mirage, cameo by Shockwave
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz
Summary: Prowl finds a major flaw in the Special Operations Emergency Kit
Notes: Written for the 2014 Prowl/Jazz Community Anniversary Challenge
"So tell me again why I was called out here?" Prowl whispered harshly, air hissing between his clenched denta as he surveyed the teeming courtyard of Dark Mount with a gleeful Jazz at his side, a modded helm set folded over his optics so that he could zoom in on the action below from his vantage point.
"I need some on-the-job tactics." The saboteur shrugged, leaning closer to his mate with an affectionate croon. "Besides it will be good for you to do some REAL work. Not that stuffy filing and mind puzzles you always seem to be doing."
"Jazz, stop while you are ahead." Mirage commented from somewhere to their left, invisible and quiet.
"Jazz, my 'Stuffy Filing and Mind Puzzles' is keeping your aft and several other ungrateful afts online on a daily basis. I refuse to die by a broken bond because you were stupid enough to go into a Decepticon base all guns blazing. If you do, you can tell Primus to shove the 'Simultaneous Death' condition up his tailpipe and I will see you when I am good and ready." Prowl growled, shoving his mate's puppy whining face away from him with the flat of his palm, clearly insulted when his doorwings flickered up and down as if the Tactician was restraining himself from physical violence. "Anyway, mute your vocaliser, isn't this supposed to be one of your 'Super Duper Sneaky Stealth Missions'?"
"See, it just sounds silly when you say it." Jazz huffed with a pout, looking away with a sniff, crossing his arms over his chest plates where a fake Decepticon brand had been painted on to help him blend in.
"The sparklings I work with..." Prowl muttered to himself, shaking his helm as they shuffled ever closer to a sly hole in the wall that hadn't been repaired yet after the Autobots had carried out a carefully planned airstrike, headed by Prowl himself through meticulously encrypted instructions.
Mirage was the first through, invisible as usual, almost running afoul of a tank-former when the brute trundled past with his spindly, much flashier companion. He beckoned Jazz and Prowl through with a soft sizzle of static, the two bondmates impressively melding in with the shadows like wraiths. The eerily easy way they stalked leant heavily to the fact that Prowl was once a black operations Commander for the Praxus Enforcers and Jazz, the well known leader of a crime syndicate.
Their mark for entering the inner complex undetected was a jumpy looking critter named Twitch. According to Jazz's intel he had once been a tour guide before the fall of Kaon and was often prone to responding automatically to questions about history, infrastructure or general directions before he could shut off his hard wired Tour Guide programming. He was due for a reprogramming the next orn, so they had to move quickly.
"Excuse me," Jazz whispered approaching the guard mech from the front as Prowl sub-spaced a dagger and slipped behind the unfortunate mech. "Could you point me in the direction of the Command Centre? It's my first orn and I'm a bit lost."
"Of course!" the blabber mouth replied, cheerfully prattling away the vital information before he could stop himself. "...and then it's the last right. Uh... I mean... Can I see your Officer ID?"
Twitch never saw Prowl, nor the energon dagger slipped cleanly between his chest plates. In fact, he never saw much of anything ever again.
Mirage grabbed the body, whisking it away in a flourish of disintegrating pixels as he spread his invisibility field so that he could search Twitch's subspace. Jazz on the other hand did a small victory dance in the shadows that he had bolted back to, earning him a slap over the back of the helm from an annoyed Prowl.
The blue and white noble tossed them a key card for the Command Centre, silently beckoning the two other mechs onward with a quiet affirmative that he would be their look out.
The Autobot Tactician inclined his helm in thanks, scaling the walls with an acrobatic grace, servos crackling with magnetic energy as he shuffled high into the shadows of the ceiling. Jazz stalked behind him, touching down gently onto to the maze of pipes and vents that crisscrossed all the way around the base. The pipes groaned quietly under the duo's weight, but didn't give way.
Then, when all was quiet in the corridors for twenty breems or so during the beginning of the next work shift, Prowl heard a loud crunch as he set one of his explosives, almost causing him to fall from the ceiling and set off his dangerous cargo as he jerked in surprise.
"Jazz! What the frag do you think you are doing?" He whisper shouted, fury in every letter and syllable he uttered, doorwings forming their characteristic 'v' shape as he turned to see what had made the startling noise.
"Eating my emergency ration?" Jazz asked back in complete confusion, an edible crystal studded rust stick hanging from between his lip plates. "Standard issue. It's really tasty, do you want one?" The black and white saboteur continued unaware of his mate's apocalyptic glare aimed at his helm, digging around in his sub-space before offering a stick from a small box of ten.
It was probably the offering of the noisy crunchy confection that set the Praxian off, or it could have been that he was having a bad day. But whatever it was, Jazz reasoned to himself later, after it was all said and done and he had had the slag beaten out of him by his own bondmate and Ratchet for not reporting the problem with the emergency rations; let it never be said that Prowl just had the worst timing sometimes.
"What part of 'We Must Keep Quiet' don't you understand?!?! Is it any wonder our Saboteurs are found and killed so easily?!" Prowl roared forgetting everything in the heat of the moment, his battle computer fizzling in his helm at the sheer ludicrousness as he slapped the rust sticks from his bondmate's grasp.
To make matters worse, Shockwave wandered out of his office, single optic trained on his datapad, only to receive a box of rust sticks bouncing on his helm just as the base wide alarm was tripped by Prowl's undignified breakdown screech when Jazz lunged after his rust sticks with a distressed battle cry.