Story Snippets
Clutch 3
Author: Thalanee
Verse: various
Word Count: 900 words
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: near character death
Disclaimer: Like I said, they don’t belong to me…
Summary: In some Jazz rescues Prowl and in some they meet for the first time under rather… adverse circumstances.
Author’s Notes: You might notice another couple of snippets that are part of what I’ve come to call the Pawn- verse… there’s a fully grown story in the works.
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5: Denial
He was an enforcer, it was not supposed to happen this way. It was not supposed to happen at all, period. But when the taller silver mech was handed over to him for transfer from Iacon to Praxus, Prowl could not, as much as he might have wished to, deny the fact that his spark had fluttered the first time his golden optics had met the dark blue visor of his prisoner.
6: Convict (same as Denial)
Glaring at the cuffs encircling his wrists, Jazz was even less fond of his mission than he had been before. He swore some of his superiors had a competition going to see who could find the most idiotic and old-fashioned way for him to collect the information they needed.
But seriously, going undercover as a convict? Who’d still fall for that?
It would be a miracle if he could get that scheme to work out.
Caught up in his own musings he didn’t really pay much attention to the formalities of the transfer to Praxus. As long as he ended up at the precinct he was supposed to, everything else was alright with him. Idly twiddling his thumbs he looked around, trying to find something to entertain himself with, when he caught sight of the enforcer he was to be handed over to.
Now, Jazz was by no means a shy mech, but right then he doubted that he would have been able to be his usual smoothly eloquent self had he been required to say anything, because the moment he had caught sight of the black and white mech and his doorwings Jazz’s processors had melted into a happy pile of goo. Smitten, he took in every single detail while the object of his affection was still busy with the paperwork and oblivious to the silver mech’s scrutiny.
The part of his processor that was still somewhat coherent, was busy drawing up several plans for getting the enforcer’s attention, among other things. Like the other’s hand in a sparkbond. Whoa, where did that come from? The saboteur didn’t even know the other’s name, for Primus’ sake, and he was already imagining being bonded to him, waking up with the other in his arms, sharing energon, walking hand in hand, dancing together, seeing him smile at Jazz… wow, he really had fallen hard.
But even if he had tried, he couldn’t really bring himself to be bothered by this. Especially when those exotic golden optics rose from the datapad and met his visor.
Cheekily grinning at the enforcer, Jazz couldn’t help himself. Suddenly the assignment didn’t seem so bad anymore.
32: Vent (Pawn-verse)
As far as ventilation shafts went, it was a very nice vent indeed. It wasn’t very tight and roomy enough to wriggle about. The air wasn’t too cold and the metal it was made of wasn’t particularly dirty. Comfortable was different, but it was alright.
And it had been just the hideout he had needed after being caught by the facilities security. If he hadn’t found it, Jazz would be offlined by now.
But that wasn’t exactly true, was it. By all rights he should have been dead.
After all the black and white mech (he refused to think of him as a walking weapon or a smart drone after what had happened) had had him in his sights. All the black and white had to do was pull the trigger, just as he had been ordered over the comms. As late as Jazz had noticed the other’s silent, almost noiseless approach, the saboteur couldn’t even have dodged in time.
Yet he was still alive.
The question was why?
And never let it be said that Jazz wasn’t a curious mech. He would find out about this. He had to.
Because if what he had seen in those golden optics wasn’t a figment of the silver mech’s own imagination, the doorwinger would soon need his help.
38: Care
It felt like an icy fist had closed around his spark, when he realized what was going on. From his vantage point directly underneath the ceiling he could see everything: the two security guards holding the motionless form of his black and white rescuer, the overseer pointing toward the smelting pits that were being fired up.
More chillingly, he could see the light in those haunting golden optics. A light he recognized, because he had seen it in his own optics once. It was the fear of not existing anymore, the desperate wish to live.
Feeling the heat on his armour, the way the air currents moved through the room, Jazz vowed then and there that he would save the other as he had been saved.
Screw his orders to destroy the new weapon, screw the need for secrecy or even subtlety, screw the politics, he would rescue the mech down below, he would get him out of this hellhole.
Yes, no matter what it would take, Jazz would take care of him.
Yes, Jazz is getting himself into gear to save Prowl… more from the Pawn-verse in the full story ;P