Anniversary fic 6/7
Title: Unorthodox Methods
Prompt: The Pilot Just Died
Verse: G1 Autobots Win AU
Rating: T
Warnings: Slight energon spillage
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Oc, cameo by Red Alert, Optimus and Elita
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz, implied Red Alert/Inferno (kinda)
Summary: The unorthodox way to get a date.
Notes: Written for the 2014 Prowl/Jazz Community Anniversary Challenge
Of course his pleasure cruise would go wrong, Prowl sighed as the other mechs and femmes around him seated neatly in their rows began to panic, his neighbour babbling nervously in his audio as he calmly watched the world trundle by through his window as they descended in a dazzling horizontal fall.
Prowl rolled his optics, reaching up to re-enable his communication network which he had switched off at the captain's recommendation at the beginning of the flight.
"Damn you, Jazz," he muttered under his breath through gritted denta as the dial tone droned before the characteristic dialling of his friend's number thrummed in his helm. "Making me take my days off. Peace and quiet my aft."
"This is the Jazzman!" chirped a familiar voice, sounding nonchalant and cheerful. "What's up Prowler?"
"Just so you know, I've sent you my last will and testament in an attachment with this call." Prowl drawled grabbing his energon cube from the tray before him as the ship shuddered sending the other occupants into a frenzy of screams, luggage toppling from the overhead compartments. "I took the liberty to scrub your portion of my estate from my Will as this is entirely your fault."
"That's a bit drastic for locking you out of your Office and filing your holiday sheet don't you think?" Jazz asked in surprise, sounding quite put out. "And since when was I included in your Will? What do I get?"
"You were going to get my collection of daggers and sabotage gadgets from my SWAT days, but now Mirage is inheriting them." Prowl said smugly as he took a sip from the cube of High Grade when the shuttle levelled out and a voice that was clearly not the captain started harping on about the greater good. "Now if you will excuse me Jazz, I have a crazy hijacker to shoot."
"Now just a minute Prowl, don't be hasty, you know that I would appreciate and use them more than... What did you just say?" Jazz squawked as Prowl hung up.
===Iacon Air Traffic Control===
Dodge was having a fabulous orn.
He had woken to his bonded making goodies, their youngling twittering at her pedes, making a nuisance of herself as he rushed to get ready for work. He had even managed to catch the news report about an accident on his route allowing him ample time to catch a turn off so he made it in the door bang on time at work.
Red Alert, his twitchy boss, rumoured to have served under Optimus Prime himself during the Great War, greeted him with his usual gruff paranoia after the multiple identity checks, allowing him full control of his set of panels.
It was two joors into his shift when his day went down the drain.
Red Alert had stepped out for a break, his mate having loitered in the lobby with threats of coming up to the tower and dragging the Air Controller down by his audials if he didn't take a break apparently, 'just like he used to do' on the ARK.
He noticed a slight abnormality in the trajectory of a routine pleasure cruise transport on its way to New Praxus, the shuttle beginning a slow loop back towards the central Iacon Docking Port.
Frowning, he scooted his hover chair round the bank of monitors curved around the circular tower, standing to bring up the surrounding airspace on the holo table.
"Odd," he muttered, optics narrowing, bringing up his stylus to chew on the end as he pondered the sudden change in direction. "Computer?" He asked the control tower, turning to peer out of the windows at the bustling Port outside.
"Yes, Controller Dodge?" It replied, chirpy and pleasant.
"Contact shuttle 'Saving Grace' please," the red and purple mech frowned, checking the mandatory check-in times, "it seems there is a gap in their transmission record in the last twelve breems. It warrants a check over at New Praxus Docking Port, but not a full turnaround back to Iacon."
"Acknowledged." The computer responded, clearing the screen and bringing up the holo-com.
===The Saving Grace===
==Cockpit==
Killing the hijacker had been a really bad idea in hindsight, Prowl frowned, looking between the deactivated rouge mech and the Captain slouched in the co-pilots seat, both equally grey, and both certainly dead. At least those two had official pilot training.
The Hijacker, a delusional critter, was slumped backwards over the controls after their brief tussle, a clean shot through his helm having splattered the window with processor matter and energon.
The autopilot, slightly smarter than the average one thankfully, had sensed the pilots were indisposed and was currently charting a course back to Iacon, if he was reading the screen correctly.
He sighed, despairingly, ignoring the incessant buzzing from his communication link as he set about shifting the carcasses from the chairs.
"'Oh it will be fine Prowl', 'You stress to much Prowl, it's the new Golden Age, what could go wrong?', 'Prowl un-cuff yourself from your desk this instant and go have some fun', they said." The black and white Praxian huffed to himself furiously, his doorwings flicking into a soft 'v' shape as his emotions got the better of him when he tried and failed to stuff the hijacker's body in an energon storage cabinet in the prep area just beyond the heavy door to the cabin. "They know I have bad luck with vacations, so why bother?."
He jumped when a shrill droning ring filled the cockpit area, the holo radio flashing online as 'Incoming Call: Iacon Air Control' began to blink in red.
"Finally, something good is happening." He muttered, swiftly slotting himself into the pilot seat and accepting the call frequency.
"This is Air Control Iacon to Saving Grace, please return to your original trajectory. The airspace that you are returning to is currently occupied by Omega Cruisers." A voice stated sternly, "I repeat, abort trajectory and continue to New Praxus."
Prowl, once Second in Command of the Autobots, now one of Optimus' most trusted advisors and Enforcer chief of Iacon sighed, casting his optics to the ceiling in a blatant 'why me, Primus?' gesture. "This is the gamma class cruiser Saving Grace," he rumbled, "I don't mean to alarm you but I'm a passenger on this flight."
"Sir, what are your intentions?" Was the immediate cold response, alarmingly different from the half caring voice that had first answered. "Where is the Captain of this shuttle?"
"The pilot just died." Prowl replied as if stating the weather, "I request an immediate scramble of Emergancy Vehicles to Iacon Runway 4. It has been a few vorns since I have piloted this big a craft and performed evasive manoeuvres. Good day."
===Iacon Runway 4===
==Crash Landing Site of the Saving Grace==
=Jazz=
He frantically scoured the crowd of shocked victims of the crashed shuttle, still smoking away in the distance, crowded with Firefighters, darting in between sobbing families and frantically kissing lovers to reach the one mech swarming with reporters and medical staff, two enforcers trying in vain to fend off the vulture like media as they defended their Chief.
"Prowl!" He cried, shoving his way through, flashing the crest of the Prime at the startled enforcers that allowed him into the small ring where the black and white Praxian was trying in vain to resist getting a deep gouge in his armour flexi-sealed.
"Jazz." The tactician acknowledged, startled when the once saboteur tackled him in a flying hug.
"I take it back." The black and white Polyhexian grinned, "You're never allowed to go on holiday again."
"I can live with that." Prowl smiled softly looping his still free arm to hug his best friend close. "...You're still not getting those daggers you know..." He paused watching in amusement as Jazz's smile dropped into a kicked puppy face, "Unless, you take me out for evening energon. Your treat."
The Polyhexian laughed, all bright smiles once more, "Is this you asking for a date Prowl?"
"Do you want those daggers or not?" The tactician sniffed looking away in embarrassment. Neither one of them aware that the media was catching all of this exchange live.
"I suppose I could," Jazz considered playfully, "Will there be another date afterwards?"
"If you'll have me."
Jazz paused, tilting his helm as if he were weighing the pros and cons of the offer before a soft smile played upon his lips,"...I will."
===Iacon Palace===
Optimus watched anxiously with Elita over a holo-screen, sighing in relief when he caught sight of the two black and white mechs kissing on the news, almost jumping out of his plating when his mate cried out in joyful sarcasm, "Finally! It only took them a shuttle crash and nine million years!"
Prompt: The Pilot Just Died
Verse: G1 Autobots Win AU
Rating: T
Warnings: Slight energon spillage
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Oc, cameo by Red Alert, Optimus and Elita
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz, implied Red Alert/Inferno (kinda)
Summary: The unorthodox way to get a date.
Notes: Written for the 2014 Prowl/Jazz Community Anniversary Challenge
Of course his pleasure cruise would go wrong, Prowl sighed as the other mechs and femmes around him seated neatly in their rows began to panic, his neighbour babbling nervously in his audio as he calmly watched the world trundle by through his window as they descended in a dazzling horizontal fall.
Prowl rolled his optics, reaching up to re-enable his communication network which he had switched off at the captain's recommendation at the beginning of the flight.
"Damn you, Jazz," he muttered under his breath through gritted denta as the dial tone droned before the characteristic dialling of his friend's number thrummed in his helm. "Making me take my days off. Peace and quiet my aft."
"This is the Jazzman!" chirped a familiar voice, sounding nonchalant and cheerful. "What's up Prowler?"
"Just so you know, I've sent you my last will and testament in an attachment with this call." Prowl drawled grabbing his energon cube from the tray before him as the ship shuddered sending the other occupants into a frenzy of screams, luggage toppling from the overhead compartments. "I took the liberty to scrub your portion of my estate from my Will as this is entirely your fault."
"That's a bit drastic for locking you out of your Office and filing your holiday sheet don't you think?" Jazz asked in surprise, sounding quite put out. "And since when was I included in your Will? What do I get?"
"You were going to get my collection of daggers and sabotage gadgets from my SWAT days, but now Mirage is inheriting them." Prowl said smugly as he took a sip from the cube of High Grade when the shuttle levelled out and a voice that was clearly not the captain started harping on about the greater good. "Now if you will excuse me Jazz, I have a crazy hijacker to shoot."
"Now just a minute Prowl, don't be hasty, you know that I would appreciate and use them more than... What did you just say?" Jazz squawked as Prowl hung up.
===Iacon Air Traffic Control===
Dodge was having a fabulous orn.
He had woken to his bonded making goodies, their youngling twittering at her pedes, making a nuisance of herself as he rushed to get ready for work. He had even managed to catch the news report about an accident on his route allowing him ample time to catch a turn off so he made it in the door bang on time at work.
Red Alert, his twitchy boss, rumoured to have served under Optimus Prime himself during the Great War, greeted him with his usual gruff paranoia after the multiple identity checks, allowing him full control of his set of panels.
It was two joors into his shift when his day went down the drain.
Red Alert had stepped out for a break, his mate having loitered in the lobby with threats of coming up to the tower and dragging the Air Controller down by his audials if he didn't take a break apparently, 'just like he used to do' on the ARK.
He noticed a slight abnormality in the trajectory of a routine pleasure cruise transport on its way to New Praxus, the shuttle beginning a slow loop back towards the central Iacon Docking Port.
Frowning, he scooted his hover chair round the bank of monitors curved around the circular tower, standing to bring up the surrounding airspace on the holo table.
"Odd," he muttered, optics narrowing, bringing up his stylus to chew on the end as he pondered the sudden change in direction. "Computer?" He asked the control tower, turning to peer out of the windows at the bustling Port outside.
"Yes, Controller Dodge?" It replied, chirpy and pleasant.
"Contact shuttle 'Saving Grace' please," the red and purple mech frowned, checking the mandatory check-in times, "it seems there is a gap in their transmission record in the last twelve breems. It warrants a check over at New Praxus Docking Port, but not a full turnaround back to Iacon."
"Acknowledged." The computer responded, clearing the screen and bringing up the holo-com.
===The Saving Grace===
==Cockpit==
Killing the hijacker had been a really bad idea in hindsight, Prowl frowned, looking between the deactivated rouge mech and the Captain slouched in the co-pilots seat, both equally grey, and both certainly dead. At least those two had official pilot training.
The Hijacker, a delusional critter, was slumped backwards over the controls after their brief tussle, a clean shot through his helm having splattered the window with processor matter and energon.
The autopilot, slightly smarter than the average one thankfully, had sensed the pilots were indisposed and was currently charting a course back to Iacon, if he was reading the screen correctly.
He sighed, despairingly, ignoring the incessant buzzing from his communication link as he set about shifting the carcasses from the chairs.
"'Oh it will be fine Prowl', 'You stress to much Prowl, it's the new Golden Age, what could go wrong?', 'Prowl un-cuff yourself from your desk this instant and go have some fun', they said." The black and white Praxian huffed to himself furiously, his doorwings flicking into a soft 'v' shape as his emotions got the better of him when he tried and failed to stuff the hijacker's body in an energon storage cabinet in the prep area just beyond the heavy door to the cabin. "They know I have bad luck with vacations, so why bother?."
He jumped when a shrill droning ring filled the cockpit area, the holo radio flashing online as 'Incoming Call: Iacon Air Control' began to blink in red.
"Finally, something good is happening." He muttered, swiftly slotting himself into the pilot seat and accepting the call frequency.
"This is Air Control Iacon to Saving Grace, please return to your original trajectory. The airspace that you are returning to is currently occupied by Omega Cruisers." A voice stated sternly, "I repeat, abort trajectory and continue to New Praxus."
Prowl, once Second in Command of the Autobots, now one of Optimus' most trusted advisors and Enforcer chief of Iacon sighed, casting his optics to the ceiling in a blatant 'why me, Primus?' gesture. "This is the gamma class cruiser Saving Grace," he rumbled, "I don't mean to alarm you but I'm a passenger on this flight."
"Sir, what are your intentions?" Was the immediate cold response, alarmingly different from the half caring voice that had first answered. "Where is the Captain of this shuttle?"
"The pilot just died." Prowl replied as if stating the weather, "I request an immediate scramble of Emergancy Vehicles to Iacon Runway 4. It has been a few vorns since I have piloted this big a craft and performed evasive manoeuvres. Good day."
===Iacon Runway 4===
==Crash Landing Site of the Saving Grace==
=Jazz=
He frantically scoured the crowd of shocked victims of the crashed shuttle, still smoking away in the distance, crowded with Firefighters, darting in between sobbing families and frantically kissing lovers to reach the one mech swarming with reporters and medical staff, two enforcers trying in vain to fend off the vulture like media as they defended their Chief.
"Prowl!" He cried, shoving his way through, flashing the crest of the Prime at the startled enforcers that allowed him into the small ring where the black and white Praxian was trying in vain to resist getting a deep gouge in his armour flexi-sealed.
"Jazz." The tactician acknowledged, startled when the once saboteur tackled him in a flying hug.
"I take it back." The black and white Polyhexian grinned, "You're never allowed to go on holiday again."
"I can live with that." Prowl smiled softly looping his still free arm to hug his best friend close. "...You're still not getting those daggers you know..." He paused watching in amusement as Jazz's smile dropped into a kicked puppy face, "Unless, you take me out for evening energon. Your treat."
The Polyhexian laughed, all bright smiles once more, "Is this you asking for a date Prowl?"
"Do you want those daggers or not?" The tactician sniffed looking away in embarrassment. Neither one of them aware that the media was catching all of this exchange live.
"I suppose I could," Jazz considered playfully, "Will there be another date afterwards?"
"If you'll have me."
Jazz paused, tilting his helm as if he were weighing the pros and cons of the offer before a soft smile played upon his lips,"...I will."
===Iacon Palace===
Optimus watched anxiously with Elita over a holo-screen, sighing in relief when he caught sight of the two black and white mechs kissing on the news, almost jumping out of his plating when his mate cried out in joyful sarcasm, "Finally! It only took them a shuttle crash and nine million years!"