Dare to dream 1

Sep 02, 2013 12:34

Dare to dream

Beta: Starfire 201
Continuation: AU, G1
Genre: Drama, adventure
Characters: Prowl and Jazz
Wordcount: 14 850

Summary: Life in Kaon is hard, tragic and more often than not short. Kaonite Enforcer Jazz knows all that and navigates the streets with experience. But when a Praxian officer on the hunt for a dangerous killer comes to visit some things can't be ignored any longer.



Dare to dream

Bored optics roamed over the endless desert of old, decaying skyscrapers. Frequently, the landscape was punctuated with the magnificent towers of the nobles and rich, which screwed themselves into the sky like claws of a lurking predator.

Between them stretched the aerial highways on which densely packed hovercrafts transported their customers from one tower to the next, so that they would never have to touch the lower levels of the city. Every now and then one could see between the skyscraper the gigantic highways for the normal mechs, which were - thanks to the overpopulation - more often then not one single traffic jam with no end in sight.

What one couldn't see from here were the ravine entrances which gaped between and beneath the houses and highways like open wounds; barely hidden, but always ignored. They only housed squalor and death. Hope hadn't set a pede into them for longer than he lived.

This monster of a city, which spread across the landscape like rust over gleaming steel, was Kaon.

::Officer Jazz, please return to the station immediately,:: notified his comm system suddenly. ::Officer Jazz, please confirm.::

::Officer Jazz here. Order received and confirmed,:: he answered shortly.

With a low sigh, he stood up and walked with confident steps on the small, rattling metalbridge, which connected apartment block 34-D with the chimney of the plant for which the block had once been built. The factory had now been abandoned for a long time by all but the drug gangs, but those who were daring enough could still enjoy the view of Kaon from here.

The little bridge groaned with every step beneath his weight of his reinforced armour and the inbuilt weapons. Some orn soon she would break down, but it wouldn't be today and he reached the roof of the apartment block safely. The dirty black door led into the apartment block. Long empty hallways greeted him, but he knew that behind the doors they were teeming with life. Without hesitation he passed the door that led to his own small room and instead chose the lift downwards. It took a while to pass the floors. 34-D had over 150 floors and in them lived over 15 thousand mechs. Most of them were law abiding, but there were some floors Jazz hadn't visited in vorns. They were controlled by one gang or another.

On the street, he transformed into a motorcycle and joined the thick traffic. Thanks to his Enforcer mark and build, he managed to weave through the traffic and reached the station only a few breems later. The station was a big, run-down building with fences intended to stop mobs and hidden weapons to do worse. At top of the station, the blue glyphs 'Kaon Enforcer' shined into the gloom and shadows of the city.

He walked inside to the entrace desk. "Heya, Speedrake. Ah've been called in, do ya know why?"

"Sure, I do." Speedrake was thin and young, with a jovial smile. As all Enforcers he sported the black and white colours. "We have an important visitor. Guess the Chief wants him to show the nice sides of Kaon."

They both laughed at the bad joke. It was then that Jazz noticed a new sign on Speedrake's breast plates. It was purple and not at all unknown to him. "Joined up with the Decepticons?" he asked casually, not showing how much it disturbed him that an Enforcer was openly showing his allegiance to an outlawed group.

"Sure!" Speedrake puffed out his chest proudly. "Ah' thought it's time, ya know? If not now, when then?" He leaned forward and said a bit lower: "Times are changing, ya know. We have ta make a stand or no one will."

"Yeah... Good that we have mechs like you." He hoped that Speedrake didn't notice his doubts. "Where is the Chief?"

"Room 243. Better not to keep him waiting, right?"

He winked and started walking. "Yep. Until later, Speedy."

The Kaon Enforcers had been underfunded for decades and it was obvious. The walls showed signs of long ago fights with criminals. Dust and rust and worse was everywhere. And one could only imagine the colour the station had been once painted in - a royal blue. These had been the good orns long past.

He knocked at the door of room 243 and was asked to enter. Inside he saw his boss and next to him, a foreign Enforcer with doorwings. Praxian, his processor supplied. "Chief, ya wished to see ma?"

"Finally, there you are." The Chief Enforcer of Kaon was a veritable giant and every kilogram of his was tuned for battle. Jazz had seen warframes that had looked like toy soldiers next to him. "This is Prowl, a Praxian Enforcer. He's here with orders to hunt down a serial killer with the designation - " The chief looked at the Praxian.

Prowl didn't miss a beat: "Glint."

The chief nodded. "Glint it is. So, because I'm busy and all, I thought I would give him my best detective at hand - you Jazz. Try to help him in any way you can, yes?" The chief was already moving towards the door. "If you're in trouble or anything, the normal procedures apply, got it?"

"Yes, chief," said Jazz.

"Good luck, you two." And the chief was out the door.

Jazz turned to his new charge - or boss, it could go both ways. "Welcome to Kaon, then, I guess," he said. "I'm Jazz. Anything special you need?"

Prowl walked towards him. "Nice to meet you. I need to look into your archives. But mostly I have to know where Glint could hide in this city."

Jazz chuckled mirthlessly. "This is Kaon. The short answer is everywhere."

The Praxian was not impressed. "And the long answer?"

"The long answer is everywhere where he can pay for the roof." Depressing, but true. No one here cared about murder anymore. No one but the Enforcers and the cohorts of the victim. Which led sometimes to a few very ugly and very high profile scenes.

"I see." Prowl vented. "We froze his bank accounts, and estimate that he has around 1500 credis on his person. Does that help?"

That wasn't much money. But still... "Is he a mech that would try to save?"

After a short hesitation Prowl nodded. "Yes. He has acted very carefully so far and chooses his victims far in advance."

"Then maybe we're in luck and he's tried to find a place where he can stay, say for a vorn. There are still far too many places he would find, but most have a nice side effect. They're gang controlled."

"And how is that poseitive for us?" asked Prowl confused.

Jazz shrugged. "We kinda have a deal with the gangs. We don't bust their lower crimes constantly and they refrain from the higher crimes like murder, harvesting, forced codewriting..."

For a long moment the Praxian just stared at him. Then he slowly said: "That's illegal."

Non-Kaon. Right. Jazz sighed. "Look, I know it's illegal, okay? But we're a few Enforcers against over thirty different gangs that all have the same or more manpower than we do. We had to cut deals, or we would be a burning hole in the ground, got it?"

Prowl didn't look as if he 'got' it. "You gave simply up and left this city to crime," he accused.

"Gave up?" Slowly Jazz became angry. "We didn't give up. We are trying our best to keep this city at least halfway liveable. Try being an Enforcer here for a vorn and if you then still live, you've cut deals or never left the station. That's reality. Alternatively we could just leave Kaon. Do you want that?"

"No." The Praxian Enforcer crossed his arms. "I still can't believe that 'cutting deals' as you put it is the best or only way."

"Maybe." Jazz sighed. "But it's our way. So, do you want us to go to them and ask about this Glint or not? But I tell you now, the other ways are looking worse or will get you nothing."

The impressive doorwings on the Praxian's back started to rise, then they were quite clearly forced down. "This is your city," he said with a huff. "I will not criticise your choices."

Jazz, who hadn't even noticed how tense he had become, relaxed and even offered a smile. "Sounds like we're going to work out, Prowl. Ready to move? Negotiations here are not really done over comm lines, so we'll have to drive around a lot."

"That will be no problem," answered Prowl while they both moved out of the room. "I have a standard Enforcer altmode."

"Good. Standard armour, too?" He himself and most of his colleagues were far above standard. It was expensive yes, and more than a few needed Energon cubes worth, but it also saved their sparks regularly.

The Praxian shook his helmet. "Grade four armour."

Jazz looked at him, surprised. "That's quite good, 'specially for a Prax like you." That was his own armour grade. "Special reason for that?"

The Praxian looked at him with something that might have been a smile - or pure pride. "I am in the Special Task force in Praxus. We apprehend the more dangerous criminals."

"Like serial killers," concluded Jazz.

"Exactly."

"So you know how to fight, that's good. You might need it in the streets." He noticed Prowl's alarmed look and shook his head. "Nothing serious, probably. But some mechs when they see a new Enforcer, especially when they have weak points like your wings, like to see what they're made of."

He tried to let it sound casual, and not like the deadly fights those sometimes were. He had seen many good Enforcers die like that. But even more often the challengers had died. Rarely had they been older or more experienced. Usually, they were young mechs out for glory in their gangs. Young, stupid, desperate mechs, Kaon never lacked in those.

"I'll be able to hold my own," assured Prowl, who might have heard his worry.

"Let's hope so."

Jazz greeted Speedrake and then they were out on the street. The Praxian transformed first into a sleek and very fast looking car. It would have a bit more difficulty than Jazz manoevring in the traffic, but on the other hand he probably packed a few nice surprises behind the armour. He nodded appreciatively and transformed as well.

::Officer Prowl,:: he sent his ping. ::First, we'll visit the steward association. Not a real gang, but not entirely nice either.:: Together they joined the traffic.

::Understood. Can you tell me more about this association?::

::Sure.:: They turned and drove on to one of the big highways. Most mechs made space for the two Enforcers, not out for trouble. ::The steward association is built on money and really was created in some kind of self-defense against the gang wars. I think it first started during the first recession when all the plants closed down and the owners stopped caring about them and their apartment blocks. But the people didn't move out, so the stewards of the buildings took over. But they were bullied by the gangs, so they used the money from the rents, hired mechs and drove the gangs off as long as they didn't start paying rent too. With time, the stewards formed an association and cemented their rule of the apartment blocks that way. A few gangs were stupid enough in the past to challenge them, and they used them as a very bloody and showy example. Let me tell you, it's no fun to walk past corpses on the way to your home every day.::

Silence. Jazz sweved to the side and avoided a truckloader. On the side they passed several small shops. He noticed a purple face in many of their windows, some had only appeared this decaorn.

::I see,:: Prowl finally said. ::So if Glint has moved into one block they would know?::

The Praxian was either a real professional, or he was starting to get the Kaonite way. Jazz saw no other reason why he should've ignored the corpse comment. ::Definitely. The question is if they would say it.::

::They demand a price, right?::

::Yep. And credits are not always what they want.::

They left the highway straight into Kaon's cleanest streets. Left and right, high towers raced towards the sky, their peaks far to high to be seen from here. This was the still beating pump of Kaon, its financial district in which one could buy everything.

Jazz halted in front of a tower that looked like any other. It was completely silver, but its door had a golden and plantinic bordure, as well as two big and grim looking mechs with matching blue and yellow paint jobs. Jazz walked up to them without fear.

"Hey guys, I need to talk to the Prince."

"The Prince is busy," said the left one. "Please leave."

Jazz smiled. "I can't really do that as I haven't talked with the Prince yet. Let me in, please?"

"No," said this time the right one. "Please leave, or we'll have to use force."

"See mechs, you do not really want to do that." Jazz's smile became icy. "I'm here on a mission, searching for a serial killer. If you do not let me in, I have to believe that you're hiding him and then I would have to come again. And I assure you that then I will not be alone."

The two guards looked at each other, then back at Jazz. The left one's stare became a bit glassy as he activated his comm line, while the other guard asked: "A serial killer... Dangerous?"

"Very. Or at least dangerous enough that Praxus is searching for him even in Kaon." He pointed behind him an Prowl. "Definitely not one ya want ta have around."

Again the guards looked at each other, then nodded. "Please follow me," said the left one. "I would recommend not to walk away from me or to linger behind."

"No prob," said Jazz and winked at Prowl to follow him inside.

The tower was just like the last few times Jazz had visited. Very expensive interior, from the white marble floor to the painted ceiling, everything was from the finest quality. Security measures were everywhere, some hidden, some not. Cameras, guards and an AI that observed the whole building were just the beginning. This building was, despite its wealth, a fortress.

Next to him, Prowl was clearly disturbed by the displayed wealth. "I didn't think I would find something like this here," he whispered.

"We have several towers like this," answered Jazz ruefully. "It's not the rich we lack, we lack the in-between. A few insanely rich mechs and everyone so poor that they nearly die."

The Prince of the Stewards received them in a opulent room with a fantastic view of the city. Jazz couldn't help but compare it to the view from his small metal bridge and found with some satisfaction that they both showed the same sight.

"Welcome, my dear Enforcers, welcome!" a small green mech, barely reaching Jazz's and Prowl's shoulders greeted them. He was shining in the artificial light from nanites that had gotten everything they needed and more in hundreds of vorns.

"My Prince," said Jazz politely. "It's wonderful to see you again and in best health."

"Thank you! My secrets are Tyger Pax sweets, they keep me young and vital," he said with a wink. "You should try them some orn, too. Jazz, right, that was your designation?"

Jazz ignored the sweets comment. Everyone in the room knew that he would never have the money to pay for them. "I'm honoured that you remembered my designation, Prince." He made an elaborate handwave to Prowl, knowing that the Prince liked those things. "My companion has traveled far from Praxus to speak with you. His designation his Prowl and he's a famous detective."

"Wonderful, just delightful!" The Prince smiled wider. "Prowl, you said, right? I'm the Prince of the Stewards here in Kaon. We provide everyone with a roof and a home. It's a wonderful and satisfying job, let me assure you. All those happy faces when we can finally give them the number combinations for their new homes," he sighed in faked happiness. "Nothing I can live without."

Prowl, the Praxian, was just staring at the Prince. Jazz wasn't sure if the main emotion in his new partner was horror or confusion, but he could understand him. The Prince often was a bit much the first time one met him. So he jumped in again: "Kaon is always thankful for the service you and your stewards provide, Prince. Don't doubt that."

"I do not." For a moment a colder, ruthless side was visible in the red optics of the Prince, then the smile was back. "So please tell me, how can I help you two today?"

This was Prowl's cue. He stepped forward and explained his situation while heavily insisting that this Glint mech was dangerous and unpredictable. He also didn't forget to add that Glint was far from rich.

"I see, I see." The Prince's smile hadn't changed during the whole speech. "That really isn't a mech I would like to place with innocent cohorts and mechs..." He looked at Jazz. "Surely, if I look into this, it would count as a favour, right?"

"Only if you put the word out and and keep us updated in the future as well, should Glint show up in one of the steward's apartments." Jazz had experience with loopholes and the Prince always tried to use them.

After a barely noticeable hesitation, the Steward Prince nodded. "Of course, of course. After all, we're trustworthy business mechs." He walked over to the console and plugged in. "Ah, no, sadly there is no mech with that designation. Also, no new Praxian mech. Of course, if he has reformatted it might still be possible that he is in one of our apartments, but I will caution my people." He unplugged from the console. "I suppose this was all?"

Jazz nodded, slightly disappointed that the biggest and easiest way had yielded nothing. "This was all, my Prince. It's always a pleasure of doing business with you."

"Same here, same here. I wish you a nice orn, officers. Blackkey, please show the gentlemechs outside, yes?"

The guard bowed. "Yes, sir."

A breem later, they were standing in the street in front of the tower. Prowl crossed his arms and his wings flicked in barely hidden emotion. "Prince, this mech calls himself prince?! We abolished these titles centuries ago!"

"Would ya like it more if he called himself king?" asked Jazz tiredly. "Doesn't change anything about his power."

"He should be in a prison and nowhere else," growled Prowl. "It's disgusting how he forced you to cower before him. You're an Enforcer not his servant."

"That we're Enforcers is the only reason he saw us." Jazz turned towards the street. "Come on, we have mechs to meet."

This time he led Prowl away from the glossy entry into smaller streets. There were no towers any more, only the giant apartment blocks and the smaller skyscrapers in-between. It was dark in these streets and dark shadows hid much but not the noises. Jazz simply walked on, not stopping. Once they passed a huge wall on which the Decepticon logo was displayed in all of its glory.

"Huh," said Jazz more to himself. "That wasn't here last time."

"You come here often?" asked Prowl, a bit disbelieving, as he tried to avoid stepping on the scurrying vermin that passed over his pede.

"Well, how do you define often?" asked the other Enforcer with a grin. "But yeah, I'm here regularly."

"I can't imagine why," was the dry reply. "Who are we searching for anyway?"

"A gang called Pitfighters. They control the gladiatorial games around here. Hard mechs with histories that often are less than pretty, but far from stupid." Jazz stumbled over a trash can and the Praxian's arm shot forward and caught him. "Glint might have thought that they wouldn't be bothered by him - if so, he has made a deadly mistake. There are few things they like less than a mech killing for nothing but enjoyment."

"Really?" asked Prowl in slight surprise. "I have to admit that seems to be a strange mindset for a gang that sponsors the gladiator fights."

Which were bloody, deadly and ruthless. But the most chilling effect of these fights were never the gladiators down in the arena, but the cheering, screaming crowds surrounding them. It was not easy to forget the sheer joy while watching a spark being deactivated.

"Only at the first glance," said Jazz. "They never force someone into the pit. No need to, in Kaon there are enough desperate mechs which are more than willing to risk everything for a few breems of glory."

"A few breems or more," interjected Prowl. "Look at Megatron."

Megatron, the sole rising star of Kaon. A hero the people rallied around in desperation, because he promised them barely more than that there could be a better life.

"Well, he's the exception," admitted Jazz. "Most get just a few breems. But see, they chose to and then they get their rewards. It's their decision. But a serial killer, he robs them of this choice. They simply die for Glint's enjoyment, not because they chose to set everything on one card."

They walked on for a few silent steps, then the Praxian muttered darkly: "I don't think I can understand them. Not Glint, not the gladiators, and not any other Kaonite."

Jazz only nodded in acceptance. But he thought that the Praxian should be glad he couldn't. These were lessons learned when one had nothing to lose but your spark, but everything to win. In front of them a massive wall, made of plates and steelrods welded together, blocked the whole street.It was an impressive makeshift architecture, which was clearly only the entrance to a far bigger building complex.

"What is this?" asked Prowl.

"Their headquarters, kind of. Behind it are the quarters and training rooms for the gladiators, among other things." Jazz walked up to the middle of the wall, where a small door was guarded by no less then four mechs sitting around a card game. They were all huge, armoured and armed. Their bodies showed signs of silvery weld seams all over, while their paint jobs were flashy and eye catching. These were clearly gladiators.

"Hey guys, is the Big Boss in?" greeted Jazz calmly.

All four of them abruptly looked up from their cards. One of them grimaced in obvious distaste: "Enforcer." A friend of his put his servo on his shoulder.

"Calm, Bonecrusher. Not yet."

The 'yet' wasn't reassuring, but neither Enforcer showed their sudden unease. One of the gladiators had stood up. He was red with blue optics and a nice chassis. "Why do ya want ta know?" he asked.

"We've got a message for him." He pointed back at Prowl. "He's from Praxus and searching for a serial killer. Real crazy guy, killed a few younglings and mechs from behind."

The gladiator called Bonecrusher stilled. "From behind?"

Jazz nodded gravely. "Yeah."

"Coward," spat Bonecrusher in sudden anger. "And he's now a gladiator?"

"Maybe. Designation is Glint. Heard of him?"

"No," said a yellow, nearly golden gladiator that looked surprisingly similar to the red, standing one. "What does he look like?"

Prowl stepped forward and offered him a datapad which contained photos. The yellow one took it and started looking through them. "Looks slagging bad, the mech. No idea how a Praxian can choose light green as his colour, that just clashes, really..." The yellow one shook his head. "I would remember this colour anywhere, but he hasn't been here." He squinted at the photos. "And I would remember a new Praxian frame too. But I've saved his face into my databanks. Short of a complete reformat, I'll recognise him."

The red one nodded. "Sunny is real good at that. If he comes here, we get him."

"Thanks, you're a real help." He wondered if Glint would survive an encounter with these four mechs. Probably not. No real loss there. "Just give us a call, if you've gotten him, yes? We don't want to search for that fragger forever."

"Sure." The red one shrugged as if not caring and the others joined in. "We'll spread the word around too. No one will stab us into the back."

"And if he does, it will be the last a mech has ever seen of him," promised Bonecrusher in his hand an energy dagger which he was suddenly flipping around. In lesser servos, the dagger would've cut off at least a few fingers, if not more.

"Good to hear," said Jazz again. "Until then."

They left the four gladiators and tried to walk back without seeming to be in too much of a hurry. The four gladiators settled around their game, then the red one stood up and vanished through the door into the inside of the structure. The other three played on as if nothing had happened.

"Do you really think they'll tell this Big Boss about the matter?" asked Prowl reluctantly, clearly doubting it.

Jazz didn't share these doubts at all. "Yep. Because the Big Boss will probably set out a reward for his sparkchamber, maybe even in energon cubes if he's generous. Remember, they really don't like serial killers."

"And mechs that could stab them into the back," added the Praxian Enforcer wryly.

Jazz had to smile. "Those too."

Prowl 'mmh'. "I noticed that this Bonecrusher and his silent friend both also wore the Decepticon symbol. The outlawed group seems to be popular here."

Jazz had noticed this little fact as well, but hadn't wanted to mention it. "Very popular," he admitted slowly. "It's said that the Big Boss is a Decepticon as well."

Prowl's wings tensed in interest. "And who might this Big Boss be?"

Jazz searched his databanks. "Designation is Soundwave. Not a very good gladiator, but he once worked as a secretary to some senator or so, before being fired. Since then he has used his skills to build up this gang and to control the gladiatorial business." Jazz frowned. "Met him once, but he's a real creepy mech. Not sure what's wrong with him, but Ah don't really wanna meet him again."

"Which is why you didn't push with the four gladiators," concluded Prowl.

"Hey, ya haven't met Soundwave, okay. Then we can talk," said Jazz in sudden anger. "Also, it wouldn't have helped. We've got what we wanted."

"That's true, still -" Prowl stopped, because in that moment a mech staggered onto the path in front of them. With far too light green optics he was looking around, but not really seeing the two Enforcers. His body was lean, and near grey as the nanites had long stopped producing any colour.

Dare to Dream: Part 2 (of 4)

character: prowl, character: jazz, g1, pre-war, oneshot, au

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