Anniversary Challenge Fic: The Ancient Datapad
Title: The Ancient Datapad
Author: Fianna9
Verse: G1 (cartoon and comic) AU
Prompts: hide and seek, dangerous games and breaking the rules
Rating: PG13
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Soundwave, Dion, Megatron
Warnings: slavery of a certain kind, Cybertronian cursing
Disclaimer: I don’t own any version of Transformers.
Summary: Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it.
I reread the classic short story “The Monkey’s Paw” by W.W. Jacobs the other day. Then I remembered reading a story “Introductions: Mohammed al Sharif” written by Botosphere. I should definitely call these my inspirations. Why do I like making Jazz and Prowl supernatural?
I know I altered the nature of the djinn, but I hope you enjoy this version. I also played a lot with canon. This is primarily a mix of G1 and the various comic universes.
Italics = mind/bond speak
large line = chapter break
small line = scene break
---------------
It was just an obsolete datapad that had been hidden in an office in the heart of Polyhex. Soundwave stared at the odd trophy Ravage had slipped out of the Senator’s office. Senator Ratbat desired to know his opponent’s secrets, and Soundwave had been ordered to retrieve them. Looking closer, Soundwave saw a dim “3” partially concealed by scuffs and dirt.
A squawk from Buzzsaw snapped Soundwave to attention. Standing against the wall opposite him was a dark gray mech approximately two-thirds his height. Pulling his blaster, Soundwave took aim at the intruder.
Buzzsaw: report. Ravage, Laserbeak: return. Intruder.
Soundwave reached outward and probed at the mech. Absolute silence met his questing thoughts. It was almost enough to make Soundwave drop his weapon. Never before had he felt such silence.
He just appeared, boss. No warning and no sound. Buzzsaw glared at the intruder, spreading his wings defiantly. Might be a drone.
“Do you know what I am?” The still-unidentified mech raised bright yellow optics to stare directly at Soundwave. The stranger seemed unconcerned by the angry pair in front of him.
“Status: unknown. Identify.” Soundwave repeated, aiming the blaster directly at the mech’s head.
Whatever he is he can still die. Ravage snarled as he reached the door, internally cursing Senator Ratbat’s stupidity.
“Unlikely.” The mech spoke as Ravage burst through the door, diving straight for him. Ravage passed straight through the mech and smacked into the wall. The mech made no move to dodge the angry cyber-cat. “You have loyal minions, especially for one in such a lowly position.”
Analysis: Probability drone unlikely. Intangibility impossible. Soundwave’s mind raced searching for an explanation. The still figure seemed to be waiting patiently.
That wasn’t teleportation. Ravage grumbled as he twisted away from the wall to face their target.
Careful, boss. Laserbeak interjected as he flew through the door. If he’s what I think he is... Laserbeak landed on Soundwave’s shoulder, watching shades of gray swirl across the plating in front of them. I think he’s from the datapad.
Soundwave looked down at the datapad in his hand. Genie.
“Since you’re flying companion has informed you as to what I am, we’ll get started.” The figure stared back at Soundwave, “What do you wish, Master?”
Soundwave put away the blaster. “Stand down.”
“As you command, Master.” The genie melted into the air, disappearing into nothingness. The last trace they could detect was the pair of fading yellow optics.
Slag. Laserbeak stared at the datapad. Boss, this is it. We could finally…
“Analysis and discussion needed.” Soundwave placed the datapad carefully on the desk. The three symbionts merged into his systems, and they began a long debate.
-----
Almost three orn later, Soundwave picked up the datapad. Anticlimactically their new asset did not appear. Fortifying himself, remembering the discussion just this morning, Soundwave announced, “Appear.”
After a moment, the dark figure materialized in front of him, standing next to the desk. “As you command, Master.”
“Soundwave: wishes protect more symbionts.”
“You’re noble wish is granted, Master. Eventually those needing your aid will be drawn to you just as you desire.” Sensing displeasure, genie elaborated. “Events must move at the appropriate pace. If they come to you immediately everyone will know something is happening and you will be unable to care for them properly. What else do you wish, Master? Remember, you only have two additional wishes and your symbionts cannot make wishes for they are linked to you.”
Soundwave took a moment to contemplate what he was about to say. “Soundwave: desires Senator Ratbat be disciplined for indiscretions.”
“Do you want me to go spank him?” The calm voice dripped with amusement. “Tell him he’s a bad mech and make him want to behave?” A hand reached over and traced the edge of the desk, drawing invisible patterns along the metal. Black sigils flickered across the offending hand and it was drawn back with a slight hiss.
Soundwave lifted the datapad, glanced at the flickering “2” and glared at the slightly insolent tone. “Obey Master.”
“You told me what you claim you desire, Master.” The now burning optics locked on his visor. “You haven’t told me what you truly want. The things that burn within your spark and keep you online during recharge.” The genie stepped forward slowly, still keeping out of arm’s reach. “That is what you wish, Master.”
Soundwave stared down into the optics, getting lost in the depths. “Soundwave: wishes Senator Ratbat punished. Wishes to serve a powerful, appreciative master.”
“As you wish, Master.” Offlining his optics, Soundwave shook his helm violently. When he opened them, no trace of the dark figure remained.
Did it work? Lazerbeak timidly asked.
Unknown. Soundwave looked down at the datapad he saw a dim “0” on the screen. The events could have been dismissed as fabrications were it not for the four linked minds recalling what had occurred. Datapad empty.
I hope it worked. Anything’s better than working for this Functionist aft. Buzzsaw groused.
-----
Twenty-seven orn later, Senator Ratbat ordered Soundwave to go in his place to the Gladiator Pits. During the fights Rumble and Frenzy got a bit too enthusiastic cheering, and Soundwave had to discourage the mech they’d accidentally bumped into during the championship fight. After they left, he realized he had dropped a few old things in the stands during the altercation. It wasn’t worth going back for the datapad; Soundwave had no further use for it. The champion’s method of stirring the crowd had impressed Soundwave; perhaps he would advise the Senator to keep an optic out for opportunities to work with such a charismatic individual. In the mean time, he needed to return promptly; he was expected to be present at the conference session to present his observations. Sentinel Prime was rumored to be taking an interest in Kaorn, and attracting his patronage could smooth the way for advancement.
---------------
He barely spotted the datapad lying on a shelf as he limped down the corridor away from the arena. The aches from his right leg repairs had caused him to pause momentarily, unwilling to walk into the barracks anything other than a picture of power. If he hadn’t paused he probably would have missed seeing it lying there. Swiping it up, he stalked towards his quarters. Perhaps a trainer or a guard had left it behind and he could gain some favors from the material inside.
Once he reached the relative quiet of his berth, Megatron attempted to it on. A crimson “3” flickered on the screen but nothing else seemed to happen when he tapped it. “Worthless,” he scoffed.
“Hardly worthless if you know what it is.” A voice rumbled in the empty room.
“Who’s there?” Megatron snarled angrily as he rose to his full height, searching the room for the intruder. He stared at the smoke-gray figure standing in the far corner of his small quarters looking the gladiator up and down. The visible lack of fear and awe pushed Megatron’s temper. “A trespasser.” Megatron snarled, reaching out to teach the intruder a lesson. His talons passed through the darker mech’s arm as if he wasn’t there. “Too frightened to challenge the greatest gladiator in the Pits without your holographic tricks?” He scoffed.
The hologram reached out and grabbed his arm stilling his next strike. Megatron could feel the pressure and heat against his plating. “Is it possible for a hologram to do this?”
Staring at the offending hand, Megatron noticed small, steel cuffs encircling the stranger’s wrists. Something about the etched black symbols stirred memories from his former life. An old mech had lived out by the mines. Kup’s tales of the wonders wrought by the powerful being imprisoned by one of the Primes had been popular amongst the overcharged miners. Many had speculated about what they would have it do…. Looking down at the lit screen, Megatron gripped the now priceless datapad in his hand as he growled, “I know what you are.”
“So you do.” The false mech release his arm and straightened. “Does that also mean you know the rules and the consequences?”
“You’re going to grant my three greatest desires. Aren’t you, slave?” Megatron sneered at the figure before him.
“Yes, it is my duty to do exactly as you command.” Black patterns churned through the dark gray frame. “What do you wish, Master?”
“I wish to destroy these cursed Pits. I wish to rip the corruption from the Senate exposing it for all to see. I wish to be a leader that will blaze a path through Cybertron’s history like no other has ever done!” Megatron roared.
Impassively the figure bowed its head, brimstone optics staring at Megatron’s chestplate. “As you wish so it shall be Master.”
Megatron turned away, missing the malicious smile flickering briefly across the stranger’s face. Faint visions of accolades and cheering crowds crept through his processor. This was truly the start of his path to greatness.
Many orns later Megatron dumped the datapad in a pile of trash. It wouldn’t due for anyone, especially his enemies, to discover this secret. No one would think to find anything of value here. Not that he had ever really needed it.
-----
Over nine thousand lives later, the Monster of Cybertron laughed as the Senate burned. The phantom figure had slipped completely away from his thoughts, dismissed as a pain-hazed fantasy. He had needed no help achieving his dreams. This was all his doing.
---------------
It was a datapad dropped beside a container of worn out parts outside a small factory. The dockworker happened to see it as he headed home after a long, strenuous shift. No one on the street seemed to be paying any attention him as he bent over and picked it up. If it worked, it would save him from needing to buy one. If it didn’t work, it might still be worth something as scrap parts.
Once he got home, Dion glanced down at the worn datapad. The screen only displayed a glowing “3” no matter what he pressed. “Figures. Foolish to expect more than worthless scrap down here.”
“You can wish for more than that.”
Dion looked up, surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice in his empty room. Standing next to the door was a short slate gray mech with unusual yellow optics. He was slouched wearily against the wall. “How did you get in here so quietly?”
The mech blinked at him. “I move more silently than most.”
“Apparently. I assume your not here to hurt me.” Seeing the perplexed look on his visitor’s face, Dion elaborated, “If you were going to deactivate me you’d have done it while I wasn’t looking. Besides, I’m not important enough to be worth targeting.”
Venting his amusement, his guest spoke again. “You have a candor I find refreshing.”
“Would you like something to drink? I have some energon.” Dion moved towards the cabinet.
“I don’t need energon, Master.”
Dion removed a cube and took a drink. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“You hold the symbol of my subservience in your hand; therefore you are my master.” Dark gray flickers crossed the mech’s faceplate as he gestured towards Dion’s hand.
Looking down at his off-hand, Dion muttered, “I’m your master?”
“Yes, you are.” The dark gray swirls lines were fading back into his normal coloring. “Until you use all three wishes.”
“That makes you a genie. I guess I should think of something then.” Dion looked down at his cube, swirling the liquid inside.
“Well, my first wish would be to fix the caste system. It’s not fair that some lazy noble gets to do nothing while the rest of us starve while we work ourselves into early deactivation.”
“If that is your wish it shall be done, Master, but it will take time. These sort of changes do not happen in an orn.” The genie’s plating now had ash gray bands swirling around his chest.
“My friends Orion and Ariel are so kind and deserve more than they have now. They’re wasted working in the docks like this. I wish that they’re greatness could be appreciated by more than just me.”
A small smile crossed the genie’s face for a moment. “As you wish, Master. And your final wish?”
“I don’t know what else to wish for?” He looked down at the datapad with the glowing “1” on the screen. “Wishing for credits and power seems like trouble.”
“Perhaps you should wait and think on it, Master.” The steel cuffs flared with black symbols at his words. The genie grimaced briefly. “If I am not needed I will retire now.” He vanished as if he’d never been there. Dion finished his cube still staring at the datapad.
-----
Dion greeted the visitors at work with some curiosity. During the pleasantries with the five strangers, a strong sense of unease made him keep a sharp optic out. Seeing Megatron himself along with several Decepticons, he subconsciously reached into his subspace and pulled out the datapad. He managed to whisper, “I wish you would save us.” A flicker of red caught his optics right before the explosions began. The destruction of the shipyard killed most of the workers. Orion and Ariel awoke some time later and were heralded as Optimus Prime and Elita One by Alpha Trion. Several orn later, Ultra Magnus awoke on a medical berth. He had no memory as to how he came to be.
--------------
He walked beside Ironhide through the desolation, looking at the aftermath of the Iacon shipyard’s destruction. The search for survivors had been turned into a clean-up operation. As he surveyed the rubble, a familiar shape half concealed by a broken metal slab caught his attention. He motioned for Ironhide to join Grapple’s team over at a damaged support column. Once he was alone, Prowl knelt down and shifted the rubble exposing an ancient datapad, scratched but still functioning. I quick glance showed a red “3” dimly glowing on the screen. Frowning, he picked it up and subspaced it before joining the team determining the best method of salvaging these facilities. He would handle this other problem later.
-----
Several orn later, Prowl entered the privacy of his office and sat behind his desk. Venting deeply, he reached into his subspace. Removing the datapad, he stared at the wall. “You might as well show yourself now. The monitoring system has been temporarily rendered offline. There is no one in the hall to overhear as everyone is downstairs gawking at the new Prime and his Consort.”
“You don’t seem surprised by my presence.” A gray figure faded into view on the other side of the room. “Although I have to admit I’m seldom greeted with anger. Usually my masters are pleased to see me.”
Reminding himself of the situation, Prowl tempered the rage beginning to smolder in his spark before he answered. “You almost killed the new Prime.” He turned the datapad in his grip until it faced his desk, unwilling to stare at the burning “3” taunting his processor with possibilities.
“As to your accusation, he was not yet Prime when those wishes came to fruition.” A pair of pale optics stared unafraid straight back at Prowl. “I’m just a servant who does what my master wishes. You must have been quite the Enforcer if you’re going to lay the blame me when all I did was follow orders.”
“What did your master ask for?” Prowl asked.
“My previous master asked for a his friends to become great. I granted his wish as is my duty.” The gray mech leaned forward. “But what do you want, Master?”
Prowl took a moment to shove several processes back under control. “Please quit attempting to manipulate my emotions. I am fully aware of what you are. You are not simply a genie as you imply.”
The figure smirked. “I live in a datapad, and I grant my master’s wishes. What else could I be?”
“Praxus remembers. The jinn bonded into several of our clans, and our history contains the stories of their kin.” Calm amber optics stared back at burning yellow. “Being bound by Alchemist Prime forced you to become linked to metal. That made you a genie. It does not change what you originally were. You are an afreet, spawned from fire and air.”
“So the half-breeds do not forget us.” The gray armor swirled into a cloud of shimmering crimson and cinnabar fire. “But you do not save us.”
“No, we did not forget you, but we could not trace any of you. No genies were ever brought to Praxus, and traces of you fade once your wishes are complete.” Prowl vented and dimmed his optics momentarily. “There are not many of us left who remember.”
“Do you expect me to weep for you? Poor Praxus destroyed for its arrogance and isolation?” The flickering form stepped closer to the desk. “ Do you know how long I have been bound like this? Forced to serve greedy wretches?”
“How much of this war did you cause?” Prowl snarled, clenching the datapad in his fist.
“Cause?” The afreet scoffed. “I did exactly as my masters wished; I gave them everything they demanded no matter how greedy and power mad they were just as I am required to do. This is your people’s fault; I’m just a weapon.” Suddenly he smiled, the glowing flames dimming. “Do you want me to end it, Master? Do you want me to strike down the Decepticons?”
A plan formed in Prowl’s processor. Freeing an angry afreet would be suicidal but leaving a distant cousin in chains was abhorrent to him. Reaching a decision, he spoke. “What is your name?”
The afreet cocked its head to the left and stared at him. “Why do you want to know?”
Prowl stared back at the afreet. “I want to know your designation. It is only proper to exchange names.”
“I already know your name, Master.” He scoffed.
“My name is Prowl not Master.” Prowl settled himself back into his chair, emotions calmed again as he focused on his chosen strategy. “I repeat, what is your name?”
“No one’s ever bothered to ask me that.” They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, the afreet spoke. “My name is Jazz.”
“Thank you, Jazz.” Prowl accessed the network and began pulling up forms. “Would you prefer to be listed as a resident of Praxus or Polyhex?”
“Why would it matter?” Jazz looked perplexed. “No one but you or your bondeds can see me and even you won’t really remember me afterwards. You’ll dismiss my aid as random chance or your own hard work.”
“That will change now.” Prowl continued filling in paperwork. “Listing your residence as Praxus would make it easier to explain your lack of history.”
Prowl continued typing. “By your own admission you helped create this mess, so you are going to help resolve it. I wish for you to help me save Cybertron by working as a mech soldier in the Autobots. He looked up straight at Jazz. “ The new Prime has expressed his dislike for slavery, and I share his disgust. Once this war is over we will see if I can alter the nature of your captivity.”
Jazz looked at Prowl, amusement glittering in his optics. “As you wish, Master.” Slowly the flames died down to a smoky gray. After a moment, he swirled to mix of black and white plates. “Better?”
Prowl reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a visor. “This once belonged to my partner.” He handed it to the mech in front of him. “Now it will disguise your optics, Jazz.”
Jazz took the visor and turned it over in his hands for a moment. He reached up and slid it over his still brimstone optics. “How are you going to explain my presence here, Master?”
Prowl vented. Speaking carefully, he said, “I would prefer that you would not call me Master. As to your presence here, you came to Iacon to enlist and broke into my office to prove your value as a soldier.”
Jazz smiled and chuckled, “I will accommodate you desire, Prowler. I suppose I should go report to Ironhide now?”
Prowl nodded as Jazz turned to leave.
As the door closed, Prowl heard a rumble. “I hope you remember to keep your promise. For your sake.”
After he had left, Prowl looked at the datapad in his hand. Tactical processor working in overdrive, he murmured quietly to himself, “What will you do if I do?” Putting that aside to ponder later, Prowl switched on the cameras and went back to his paperwork.
-----
It was just an obsolete datapad, stuffed in a drawer in a seldom-visited office deep in the heart of Iacon. The fact that it was Prowl’s old office and the drawer was a secret slot tucked inside a hidden floor compartment was the only thing marking it as special. Unless you looked closer and saw the dim red “2” on the cracked screen.
Author: Fianna9
Verse: G1 (cartoon and comic) AU
Prompts: hide and seek, dangerous games and breaking the rules
Rating: PG13
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Soundwave, Dion, Megatron
Warnings: slavery of a certain kind, Cybertronian cursing
Disclaimer: I don’t own any version of Transformers.
Summary: Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it.
I reread the classic short story “The Monkey’s Paw” by W.W. Jacobs the other day. Then I remembered reading a story “Introductions: Mohammed al Sharif” written by Botosphere. I should definitely call these my inspirations. Why do I like making Jazz and Prowl supernatural?
I know I altered the nature of the djinn, but I hope you enjoy this version. I also played a lot with canon. This is primarily a mix of G1 and the various comic universes.
Italics = mind/bond speak
large line = chapter break
small line = scene break
---------------
It was just an obsolete datapad that had been hidden in an office in the heart of Polyhex. Soundwave stared at the odd trophy Ravage had slipped out of the Senator’s office. Senator Ratbat desired to know his opponent’s secrets, and Soundwave had been ordered to retrieve them. Looking closer, Soundwave saw a dim “3” partially concealed by scuffs and dirt.
A squawk from Buzzsaw snapped Soundwave to attention. Standing against the wall opposite him was a dark gray mech approximately two-thirds his height. Pulling his blaster, Soundwave took aim at the intruder.
Buzzsaw: report. Ravage, Laserbeak: return. Intruder.
Soundwave reached outward and probed at the mech. Absolute silence met his questing thoughts. It was almost enough to make Soundwave drop his weapon. Never before had he felt such silence.
He just appeared, boss. No warning and no sound. Buzzsaw glared at the intruder, spreading his wings defiantly. Might be a drone.
“Do you know what I am?” The still-unidentified mech raised bright yellow optics to stare directly at Soundwave. The stranger seemed unconcerned by the angry pair in front of him.
“Status: unknown. Identify.” Soundwave repeated, aiming the blaster directly at the mech’s head.
Whatever he is he can still die. Ravage snarled as he reached the door, internally cursing Senator Ratbat’s stupidity.
“Unlikely.” The mech spoke as Ravage burst through the door, diving straight for him. Ravage passed straight through the mech and smacked into the wall. The mech made no move to dodge the angry cyber-cat. “You have loyal minions, especially for one in such a lowly position.”
Analysis: Probability drone unlikely. Intangibility impossible. Soundwave’s mind raced searching for an explanation. The still figure seemed to be waiting patiently.
That wasn’t teleportation. Ravage grumbled as he twisted away from the wall to face their target.
Careful, boss. Laserbeak interjected as he flew through the door. If he’s what I think he is... Laserbeak landed on Soundwave’s shoulder, watching shades of gray swirl across the plating in front of them. I think he’s from the datapad.
Soundwave looked down at the datapad in his hand. Genie.
“Since you’re flying companion has informed you as to what I am, we’ll get started.” The figure stared back at Soundwave, “What do you wish, Master?”
Soundwave put away the blaster. “Stand down.”
“As you command, Master.” The genie melted into the air, disappearing into nothingness. The last trace they could detect was the pair of fading yellow optics.
Slag. Laserbeak stared at the datapad. Boss, this is it. We could finally…
“Analysis and discussion needed.” Soundwave placed the datapad carefully on the desk. The three symbionts merged into his systems, and they began a long debate.
-----
Almost three orn later, Soundwave picked up the datapad. Anticlimactically their new asset did not appear. Fortifying himself, remembering the discussion just this morning, Soundwave announced, “Appear.”
After a moment, the dark figure materialized in front of him, standing next to the desk. “As you command, Master.”
“Soundwave: wishes protect more symbionts.”
“You’re noble wish is granted, Master. Eventually those needing your aid will be drawn to you just as you desire.” Sensing displeasure, genie elaborated. “Events must move at the appropriate pace. If they come to you immediately everyone will know something is happening and you will be unable to care for them properly. What else do you wish, Master? Remember, you only have two additional wishes and your symbionts cannot make wishes for they are linked to you.”
Soundwave took a moment to contemplate what he was about to say. “Soundwave: desires Senator Ratbat be disciplined for indiscretions.”
“Do you want me to go spank him?” The calm voice dripped with amusement. “Tell him he’s a bad mech and make him want to behave?” A hand reached over and traced the edge of the desk, drawing invisible patterns along the metal. Black sigils flickered across the offending hand and it was drawn back with a slight hiss.
Soundwave lifted the datapad, glanced at the flickering “2” and glared at the slightly insolent tone. “Obey Master.”
“You told me what you claim you desire, Master.” The now burning optics locked on his visor. “You haven’t told me what you truly want. The things that burn within your spark and keep you online during recharge.” The genie stepped forward slowly, still keeping out of arm’s reach. “That is what you wish, Master.”
Soundwave stared down into the optics, getting lost in the depths. “Soundwave: wishes Senator Ratbat punished. Wishes to serve a powerful, appreciative master.”
“As you wish, Master.” Offlining his optics, Soundwave shook his helm violently. When he opened them, no trace of the dark figure remained.
Did it work? Lazerbeak timidly asked.
Unknown. Soundwave looked down at the datapad he saw a dim “0” on the screen. The events could have been dismissed as fabrications were it not for the four linked minds recalling what had occurred. Datapad empty.
I hope it worked. Anything’s better than working for this Functionist aft. Buzzsaw groused.
-----
Twenty-seven orn later, Senator Ratbat ordered Soundwave to go in his place to the Gladiator Pits. During the fights Rumble and Frenzy got a bit too enthusiastic cheering, and Soundwave had to discourage the mech they’d accidentally bumped into during the championship fight. After they left, he realized he had dropped a few old things in the stands during the altercation. It wasn’t worth going back for the datapad; Soundwave had no further use for it. The champion’s method of stirring the crowd had impressed Soundwave; perhaps he would advise the Senator to keep an optic out for opportunities to work with such a charismatic individual. In the mean time, he needed to return promptly; he was expected to be present at the conference session to present his observations. Sentinel Prime was rumored to be taking an interest in Kaorn, and attracting his patronage could smooth the way for advancement.
---------------
He barely spotted the datapad lying on a shelf as he limped down the corridor away from the arena. The aches from his right leg repairs had caused him to pause momentarily, unwilling to walk into the barracks anything other than a picture of power. If he hadn’t paused he probably would have missed seeing it lying there. Swiping it up, he stalked towards his quarters. Perhaps a trainer or a guard had left it behind and he could gain some favors from the material inside.
Once he reached the relative quiet of his berth, Megatron attempted to it on. A crimson “3” flickered on the screen but nothing else seemed to happen when he tapped it. “Worthless,” he scoffed.
“Hardly worthless if you know what it is.” A voice rumbled in the empty room.
“Who’s there?” Megatron snarled angrily as he rose to his full height, searching the room for the intruder. He stared at the smoke-gray figure standing in the far corner of his small quarters looking the gladiator up and down. The visible lack of fear and awe pushed Megatron’s temper. “A trespasser.” Megatron snarled, reaching out to teach the intruder a lesson. His talons passed through the darker mech’s arm as if he wasn’t there. “Too frightened to challenge the greatest gladiator in the Pits without your holographic tricks?” He scoffed.
The hologram reached out and grabbed his arm stilling his next strike. Megatron could feel the pressure and heat against his plating. “Is it possible for a hologram to do this?”
Staring at the offending hand, Megatron noticed small, steel cuffs encircling the stranger’s wrists. Something about the etched black symbols stirred memories from his former life. An old mech had lived out by the mines. Kup’s tales of the wonders wrought by the powerful being imprisoned by one of the Primes had been popular amongst the overcharged miners. Many had speculated about what they would have it do…. Looking down at the lit screen, Megatron gripped the now priceless datapad in his hand as he growled, “I know what you are.”
“So you do.” The false mech release his arm and straightened. “Does that also mean you know the rules and the consequences?”
“You’re going to grant my three greatest desires. Aren’t you, slave?” Megatron sneered at the figure before him.
“Yes, it is my duty to do exactly as you command.” Black patterns churned through the dark gray frame. “What do you wish, Master?”
“I wish to destroy these cursed Pits. I wish to rip the corruption from the Senate exposing it for all to see. I wish to be a leader that will blaze a path through Cybertron’s history like no other has ever done!” Megatron roared.
Impassively the figure bowed its head, brimstone optics staring at Megatron’s chestplate. “As you wish so it shall be Master.”
Megatron turned away, missing the malicious smile flickering briefly across the stranger’s face. Faint visions of accolades and cheering crowds crept through his processor. This was truly the start of his path to greatness.
Many orns later Megatron dumped the datapad in a pile of trash. It wouldn’t due for anyone, especially his enemies, to discover this secret. No one would think to find anything of value here. Not that he had ever really needed it.
-----
Over nine thousand lives later, the Monster of Cybertron laughed as the Senate burned. The phantom figure had slipped completely away from his thoughts, dismissed as a pain-hazed fantasy. He had needed no help achieving his dreams. This was all his doing.
---------------
It was a datapad dropped beside a container of worn out parts outside a small factory. The dockworker happened to see it as he headed home after a long, strenuous shift. No one on the street seemed to be paying any attention him as he bent over and picked it up. If it worked, it would save him from needing to buy one. If it didn’t work, it might still be worth something as scrap parts.
Once he got home, Dion glanced down at the worn datapad. The screen only displayed a glowing “3” no matter what he pressed. “Figures. Foolish to expect more than worthless scrap down here.”
“You can wish for more than that.”
Dion looked up, surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice in his empty room. Standing next to the door was a short slate gray mech with unusual yellow optics. He was slouched wearily against the wall. “How did you get in here so quietly?”
The mech blinked at him. “I move more silently than most.”
“Apparently. I assume your not here to hurt me.” Seeing the perplexed look on his visitor’s face, Dion elaborated, “If you were going to deactivate me you’d have done it while I wasn’t looking. Besides, I’m not important enough to be worth targeting.”
Venting his amusement, his guest spoke again. “You have a candor I find refreshing.”
“Would you like something to drink? I have some energon.” Dion moved towards the cabinet.
“I don’t need energon, Master.”
Dion removed a cube and took a drink. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“You hold the symbol of my subservience in your hand; therefore you are my master.” Dark gray flickers crossed the mech’s faceplate as he gestured towards Dion’s hand.
Looking down at his off-hand, Dion muttered, “I’m your master?”
“Yes, you are.” The dark gray swirls lines were fading back into his normal coloring. “Until you use all three wishes.”
“That makes you a genie. I guess I should think of something then.” Dion looked down at his cube, swirling the liquid inside.
“Well, my first wish would be to fix the caste system. It’s not fair that some lazy noble gets to do nothing while the rest of us starve while we work ourselves into early deactivation.”
“If that is your wish it shall be done, Master, but it will take time. These sort of changes do not happen in an orn.” The genie’s plating now had ash gray bands swirling around his chest.
“My friends Orion and Ariel are so kind and deserve more than they have now. They’re wasted working in the docks like this. I wish that they’re greatness could be appreciated by more than just me.”
A small smile crossed the genie’s face for a moment. “As you wish, Master. And your final wish?”
“I don’t know what else to wish for?” He looked down at the datapad with the glowing “1” on the screen. “Wishing for credits and power seems like trouble.”
“Perhaps you should wait and think on it, Master.” The steel cuffs flared with black symbols at his words. The genie grimaced briefly. “If I am not needed I will retire now.” He vanished as if he’d never been there. Dion finished his cube still staring at the datapad.
-----
Dion greeted the visitors at work with some curiosity. During the pleasantries with the five strangers, a strong sense of unease made him keep a sharp optic out. Seeing Megatron himself along with several Decepticons, he subconsciously reached into his subspace and pulled out the datapad. He managed to whisper, “I wish you would save us.” A flicker of red caught his optics right before the explosions began. The destruction of the shipyard killed most of the workers. Orion and Ariel awoke some time later and were heralded as Optimus Prime and Elita One by Alpha Trion. Several orn later, Ultra Magnus awoke on a medical berth. He had no memory as to how he came to be.
--------------
He walked beside Ironhide through the desolation, looking at the aftermath of the Iacon shipyard’s destruction. The search for survivors had been turned into a clean-up operation. As he surveyed the rubble, a familiar shape half concealed by a broken metal slab caught his attention. He motioned for Ironhide to join Grapple’s team over at a damaged support column. Once he was alone, Prowl knelt down and shifted the rubble exposing an ancient datapad, scratched but still functioning. I quick glance showed a red “3” dimly glowing on the screen. Frowning, he picked it up and subspaced it before joining the team determining the best method of salvaging these facilities. He would handle this other problem later.
-----
Several orn later, Prowl entered the privacy of his office and sat behind his desk. Venting deeply, he reached into his subspace. Removing the datapad, he stared at the wall. “You might as well show yourself now. The monitoring system has been temporarily rendered offline. There is no one in the hall to overhear as everyone is downstairs gawking at the new Prime and his Consort.”
“You don’t seem surprised by my presence.” A gray figure faded into view on the other side of the room. “Although I have to admit I’m seldom greeted with anger. Usually my masters are pleased to see me.”
Reminding himself of the situation, Prowl tempered the rage beginning to smolder in his spark before he answered. “You almost killed the new Prime.” He turned the datapad in his grip until it faced his desk, unwilling to stare at the burning “3” taunting his processor with possibilities.
“As to your accusation, he was not yet Prime when those wishes came to fruition.” A pair of pale optics stared unafraid straight back at Prowl. “I’m just a servant who does what my master wishes. You must have been quite the Enforcer if you’re going to lay the blame me when all I did was follow orders.”
“What did your master ask for?” Prowl asked.
“My previous master asked for a his friends to become great. I granted his wish as is my duty.” The gray mech leaned forward. “But what do you want, Master?”
Prowl took a moment to shove several processes back under control. “Please quit attempting to manipulate my emotions. I am fully aware of what you are. You are not simply a genie as you imply.”
The figure smirked. “I live in a datapad, and I grant my master’s wishes. What else could I be?”
“Praxus remembers. The jinn bonded into several of our clans, and our history contains the stories of their kin.” Calm amber optics stared back at burning yellow. “Being bound by Alchemist Prime forced you to become linked to metal. That made you a genie. It does not change what you originally were. You are an afreet, spawned from fire and air.”
“So the half-breeds do not forget us.” The gray armor swirled into a cloud of shimmering crimson and cinnabar fire. “But you do not save us.”
“No, we did not forget you, but we could not trace any of you. No genies were ever brought to Praxus, and traces of you fade once your wishes are complete.” Prowl vented and dimmed his optics momentarily. “There are not many of us left who remember.”
“Do you expect me to weep for you? Poor Praxus destroyed for its arrogance and isolation?” The flickering form stepped closer to the desk. “ Do you know how long I have been bound like this? Forced to serve greedy wretches?”
“How much of this war did you cause?” Prowl snarled, clenching the datapad in his fist.
“Cause?” The afreet scoffed. “I did exactly as my masters wished; I gave them everything they demanded no matter how greedy and power mad they were just as I am required to do. This is your people’s fault; I’m just a weapon.” Suddenly he smiled, the glowing flames dimming. “Do you want me to end it, Master? Do you want me to strike down the Decepticons?”
A plan formed in Prowl’s processor. Freeing an angry afreet would be suicidal but leaving a distant cousin in chains was abhorrent to him. Reaching a decision, he spoke. “What is your name?”
The afreet cocked its head to the left and stared at him. “Why do you want to know?”
Prowl stared back at the afreet. “I want to know your designation. It is only proper to exchange names.”
“I already know your name, Master.” He scoffed.
“My name is Prowl not Master.” Prowl settled himself back into his chair, emotions calmed again as he focused on his chosen strategy. “I repeat, what is your name?”
“No one’s ever bothered to ask me that.” They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, the afreet spoke. “My name is Jazz.”
“Thank you, Jazz.” Prowl accessed the network and began pulling up forms. “Would you prefer to be listed as a resident of Praxus or Polyhex?”
“Why would it matter?” Jazz looked perplexed. “No one but you or your bondeds can see me and even you won’t really remember me afterwards. You’ll dismiss my aid as random chance or your own hard work.”
“That will change now.” Prowl continued filling in paperwork. “Listing your residence as Praxus would make it easier to explain your lack of history.”
Prowl continued typing. “By your own admission you helped create this mess, so you are going to help resolve it. I wish for you to help me save Cybertron by working as a mech soldier in the Autobots. He looked up straight at Jazz. “ The new Prime has expressed his dislike for slavery, and I share his disgust. Once this war is over we will see if I can alter the nature of your captivity.”
Jazz looked at Prowl, amusement glittering in his optics. “As you wish, Master.” Slowly the flames died down to a smoky gray. After a moment, he swirled to mix of black and white plates. “Better?”
Prowl reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a visor. “This once belonged to my partner.” He handed it to the mech in front of him. “Now it will disguise your optics, Jazz.”
Jazz took the visor and turned it over in his hands for a moment. He reached up and slid it over his still brimstone optics. “How are you going to explain my presence here, Master?”
Prowl vented. Speaking carefully, he said, “I would prefer that you would not call me Master. As to your presence here, you came to Iacon to enlist and broke into my office to prove your value as a soldier.”
Jazz smiled and chuckled, “I will accommodate you desire, Prowler. I suppose I should go report to Ironhide now?”
Prowl nodded as Jazz turned to leave.
As the door closed, Prowl heard a rumble. “I hope you remember to keep your promise. For your sake.”
After he had left, Prowl looked at the datapad in his hand. Tactical processor working in overdrive, he murmured quietly to himself, “What will you do if I do?” Putting that aside to ponder later, Prowl switched on the cameras and went back to his paperwork.
-----
It was just an obsolete datapad, stuffed in a drawer in a seldom-visited office deep in the heart of Iacon. The fact that it was Prowl’s old office and the drawer was a secret slot tucked inside a hidden floor compartment was the only thing marking it as special. Unless you looked closer and saw the dim red “2” on the cracked screen.