Fling Ally TF Style
Fling Ally TF Style
Author: Thalanee
Verse: pre-Movie, slightly AU (during the first half of the war, the others are well known, but Jazz is still working on his reputation…)
Word Count: 1178
Rating: pg-13
Characters: Jazz, Ironhide, Prowl, some unlucky ‘Con Commander by the name of Blockade (my own invention), his second Rapidfire, Ratchet, Optimus Prime
Warnings: implied mechxmech, Jazz being insane, mangled speech patterns
Disclaimer: Idon’t own them, I only wish I did. They belong to Hasbro.
Summary: It wasn’t the craziest thing Jazz had ever done, but it came pretty close… This is what happens if you mix D&D 3.5 and Transformers. Beware the crack!
P.S.: I reserve the right to twist the facts (Laws of nature, canon, etc.) to fit the story not the other way around ;)
Fling Ally TF Style
Author: Thalanee
Verse: pre-Movie, slightly AU (during the first half of the war, the others are well known, but Jazz is still working on his reputation…)
Word Count: 1178
Rating: pg-13
Characters: Jazz, Ironhide, Prowl, some unlucky ‘Con Commander by the name of Blockade (my own invention), his second Rapidfire, Ratchet, Optimus Prime
Warnings: implied mechxmech, Jazz being insane, mangled speech patterns
Disclaimer: Idon’t own them, I only wish I did. They belong to Hasbro.
Summary: It wasn’t the craziest thing Jazz had ever done, but it came pretty close… This is what happens if you mix D&D 3.5 and Transformers. Beware the crack!
P.S.: I reserve the right to twist the facts (Laws of nature, canon, etc.) to fit the story not the other way around ;)
ooooo
“Fling me”
The battle was nearly forgotten as every bot in hearing range turned toward the mech the distinctive deep voice belonged to. A scary sight met their optics. Jazz, the new Head of Special Operations, was grinning. And it was not the friendly, happy-go-lucky grin that was such a permanent fixture on his faceplate. The eager grin the silver bot displayed now seemed slightly deranged.
“Excuse me?” The massive black mech who’d been addressed stared at the saboteur as if he had grown another head. The Autobot Weapons Master wasn’t sure his audios were still fully functional…
“Ah said, fling me” Jazz repeated. He was now bouncing on his pedes in giddy anticipation like a sparkling whose greatest wish was about to come true. Ironhide just continued to stare, torn between banging his head against something solid or calling Ratchet, because their friend had obviously lost it. A sideways glance at the SIC, who was also present, revealed that Prowl was trying to stave off a crash. No help from that department…
“Why?” Morbid fascination prompted him to ask, but Ironhide wasn’t really sure he wanted to know.
“Ain’t it obvious?” The grin on Jazz’s face got even bigger, threatening to split his face in half. “We can’t get that ‘Con Commander while He’s hidin’ up there behind tha battlements an’ we can’t storm’em. Bur Ah’m just half yer size, ya con throw me over it. ‘s like killin’ two Cons wit’ one cannon: we get at tha Commander and the other Cons will be distracted besides. Great idea, ain’t it?”
Prowl twitched. Ironhide sighed. Everyone else just watched, vaguely disturbed, and waited for the inevitable outcome.
XXXXX
Blockade was having a wonderful day.
The Decepticon Commander was tucked away with all his troops behind his battlements, where the Autobots couldn’t reach them without stepping on grenades, triggering death traps or getting shot at by his snipers in the narrow corridors that were safe enough to tread on. The storm grey mech was very pleased with himself. What made his victory even sweeter was the fact that he knew the Autobots were after the plans he carried. Needed those plans, in fact, in order to win this place back from the Decepticons. And now there was no way they could get them before Shockwave’s arrival in a few cycles.
Yes, things were well in Blockade’s world.
“Sir?” Rapidfire’s voice interrupted his musings.
“What is it, Rapidfire? Are the Autobots retreating?”
“No, Sir.” The sniper paused. “They seem to be arguing among themselves”
“What about?” It had to be good. Anything that made the ‘Bots argue among themselves was bound to be. Maybe he would be able to use it - whatever “it” was- to his advantage.
“We’re not sure. Our spies couldn’t pick up their transmissions or voices, but it seems the Autobot Sic and that yellow medic are having it out with the Weapons Master and a silver bot. Maybe you would like to see for yourself, Sir.”
“Certainly. Show me.” After all there was nothing like seeing your enemies clueless and so near to defeat to make a perfect day even more so.
XXXXX
“You’re sure, you want to do this?” The Weapon’s Master adjusted his grip on the saboteur to make sure he wouldn’t let go of him prematurely.
“Absolutely, mech.” Was the silver mech purring?
“How did you even persuade Prowl and Ratchet to let us do this?” Just a few minutes before the medic had stalked off muttering to himself, but nobody had dared to venture near him so the exact wording of the curses directed at the silver mech wasn’t known. The sentiment was clear enough though.
Prowl, on the other hand, hadn’t fritzed his battle computer like everyone had expected him to. Though, that might have had something to do with the fact, that Jazz had distracted the tactician- by grabbing the black and white and proceeding to kiss him senseless…
The question prompted a laugh from the TIC. “Don’t worry, the Jazzman has his ways. Yo, mech, there he is!”
“Alright, let’s do this” A tiny little part of Ironhide’s processor was actually looking forward to what they were going to do. If anything Jazz’s enthusiasm was contagious.
XXXXX
Meanwhile in the Decepticon camp…
Incredulity writ large on his face plates Blockade stared at the scene unfolding in front of him and vaguely wondered if there might be something wrong with his optics, since he couldn’t quite believe that the sight of the black Weapon Specialist grabbing a little silver mech by his limbs and starting to swing him gaining more momentum with each round was actually real.
“What are they trying to accomplish?” Rapidfire sounded just as clueless as the Decepticon Commander felt. Blockade didn’t bother to answer, as the bizarre scene became even more so… the sliver one was grinning and whooping with joy. What was wrong with those Autobots?
The it happened. The black bot let go of the other who immediately went flying. He ascended in an arc above the battle field coming ever closer to their side of the battlefield. The optics of every single Decepticon soldier were riveted onto the flying bot, the details of his chassis becoming clearer to the optics: the silver armour, spiky helm horns, an azure visor, four fingered servos each of which held a dagger…
Finally it dawned on Blockade- and everyone else- but too late. His last thought before chaos broke out was “Oh, Sla-“
XXXXX
Sometime later in the Autobot Headquarters…
Optimus Prime, famous Leader of the Autobots, brother to the former Lord Protector Megatron and future bearer of the Martix of Leadership, was torn between thumping his head against something solid or just giving in and laughing his aft off, after his officers told him about the stunt that had secured them the intel they had been after. Throughout the report Jazz and Ironhide had been inordinately pleased with themselves. Ratchet had been livid and stormed off at some point. Prowl had just looked horribly confused. Eventually the Prime just went for the latter.
“Ah aim ta please, boss bot” Jazz commented.
“That you did, Jazz” Optimus answered. “I have one question though…” He regarded the mech sprawled in one of his chairs thoughtfully.
“Fire away, OP” A fourfingered servo waved through the air.
“How did you know that trick was going to work?”
Jazz paused. “Actually, Ah didn’t” Then a wide grin spread on his face. “But that just made it more fun!”
A soft sound came from somewhere to his right. When everyone turned to look they saw white doorwings twitching and golden optics winking out, before Prowl toppled over, his battle computer having crashed. Before Optimus could move the Praxian fell… right into the saboteurs waiting arms. His TIC held the black and white tactician bridal style and turned toward him.
“Oh, by the way” Jazz sounded oddly cheerful.
“Yes?” Optimus inquired warily.
“Sir, just wanted ya ta know, Ah’m goin’ ta court your Second In Command, sir.”
The ending didn’t come out quite right, but it’s close enough. So, let me know what you think.