"Sam again?" Ratchet asked with amused tolerance.
"None other," Jazz answered, completely unrepentant.
"...for the third time in five days..." Ratchet shook his head, refraining from smiling. He might have lectured Jazz about letting Sam anywhere near his spark, if he didn't now know firsthand how intense the pleasure was. Humans are truly delightful mates.
Jazz kept still as his processors were repaired. Again. "Wow, that only took four minutes this time," he exclaimed when Ratchet was finished.
"Yes, I seem to be getting much practice at this," replied Ratchet.
"But not just on me, right?" Jazz said with a teasing grin.
Ratchet growled. "Out! And try not to go off-line again, like yesterday."
"That was an accident!" Jazz tossed back as he left Ratchet's domain. As usual, the living room was empty during the afternoon.
Even now, months after the battle, Bumblebee was still reluctant to talk about what he'd endured at the hands of Sector Seven. He'd even tried to downplay it, whenever Jazz asked him about it, but Jazz knew that whatever happened had caused his friend pain. And it'd been all under the orders of one pompous, self-important human. It made his gears grind in frustration.
Jazz went over to Sam's table, pushed the chair aside and accessed his computer. He spent the next hour gathering all the information he could find on one Agent Simmons.
Subject has been refrozen, until the latest test results are complete, and--" Simmons broke off his transcribing as a 'You've got mail!' message appeared on his computer screen. He put down the recorder and checked his inbox. Sender unknown. That was odd... He brought up the message.
We know you've been watching.
Simmons frowned, puzzled, and worried. Someone knows about N.B.E. three? That was impossible. Or was it? His first impulse was to blame the Autobots. He knew they must be able to hack into any system, just like the hostile aliens did. But they've been on Earth for a few months now, and haven't done anything to draw attention to themselves, or the abandoned military base they were allowed to live in. The message wasn't likely to be from them. But who, then? What did it mean?
He typed in a reply.
What have I been watching?
And clicked 'Send'. All he could do for now was wait for an answer, and hope it gave him some clue about just what the hell was going on.
"Hey, Jazz. You ready to go to that drive-in?"
"I was ready twenty minutes ago," came the reply.
Sam chuckled. "Ok, ok. Let's get going."
Jazz popped open the passenger door, then drove off once Sam was in and buckled up. "So, what are we going to see?"
"Beats me." Sam smiled slyly at Jazz's holoform. "Didn't Mikaela and Bee tell you? Some humans like to make out at drive-ins, instead of watching the movie."
The car swerved slightly as Jazz's head jerked around to look at him. "No... They failed to mention that."
"Huh. Guess they wanted it to be a surprise for you, and I just ruined it." Sam gave a dramatic sigh. "We might as well go back."
"Not a chance!"
Sam grinned, then leaned back in the seat and enjoyed the ride. Mikaela's directions included taking short cuts through town, so it didn't take long to reach the drive-in.
He paid for two at the gate, since Jazz was using his holoform tonight to drive. The roof and windows went up as Jazz found a space to park in, further back from the other cars in the lot. The engine shut off and Jazz promptly moved over on top of Sam; apparently he really liked the idea of having sex in a public place.
"Whoa..." Sam managed, before he had the breath kissed out of him. He worked his way around to to lay across both seats. It was kinda cramped, but he didn't mind that too much. Jazz's hands worked their way under his t-shirt, pulling it up and off. That was followed by more hot kisses and groping, during which Jazz somehow got Sam's jeans off him.
"Now?" Jazz asked, smiling as he felt Sam's erection between their bodies.
"No.." rasped Sam, making Jazz raise one eyebrow. "My turn this time."
"Sure, Sam," Jazz said, catching his meaning.
It took some maneuvering before Sam found himself on top of Jazz. He hesitated then, unsure. "Uhh."
Jazz glanced back over one shoulder. "You can't hurt me, Sam," he assured him, with a wink.
"Ok." Sam was relieved; he really didn't think he could hold back much longer. He shifted, then pushed forward into Jazz.
Jazz pressed back, as Sam often did, and increased his holoform's temperature by several degrees.
"Yes..." Sam groaned.
Jazz pondered what else he could do. Oh, yes. A moment's concentration, and he made himself tighter around Sam, drawing an even louder groan.
"...oh my god..." Sam rapidly lost control. Damn, he was good!
Since Sam really liked that, he went a little further -- too far, actually -- just as someone banged on the driver's window.
"...on, no..." Sam froze. Mikaela had told him that sometimes a security guy patrolled the drive-in, but he normally left people alone. Geez, just how hard were we making the car rock? he wondered, and tried to pull back, only to find out he couldn't. "..ohmygod.. Jazz, I'm stuck!"
"Sorry.. I got a little carried away with there," Jazz said as he freed Sam. They quickly got back in their respective seats, Sam looking for his clothes as the window was knocked on again? Where the hell'd they go? Under the seat? Damn. "Jazz, we gotta get out of here."
"Yes, we should." The window rolled down just far enough for Jazz to tell an annoyed-looking older human male that they were leaving, then sped off out of the parking lot. "Shall we go to the lake?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," Sam said, once he calmed down. There was no chance of anyone interrupting them there.
Us.
Simmons frowned at the one word answer. Us? Who the hell was 'us'? Who the hell was e-mailing him? He leaned forward and typed.
Who are you?
Another message arrived just seconds later. So they were a a computer at this very moment.
Jason and Mikael.
Jason...and Mikael??
"No, no, no!" Simmons stared in shock at the screen. How did they find out? There's no way! He'd taken every precaution. If anyone were to find out he visits that kind of website... He fought down his panic, forcing himself to think clearly. There was every chance this joker didn't even know who he was, let alone have any proof. He glared at the words, angered now, and pounded in a short reply.
Liar.
Then he signed out of his e-mail. Any further messages, he would just delete. This was just a prank, probably from some bored snotty teenagers. There was nothing to worry about.
Nothing at all.
Not one minute passed after he booted up his computer early the next morning, when another message alert popped up. Simmons' clenched his teeth, his fear kicking in again, stronger now. Had they been waiting for him to get online? How could they possibly know? He went to his inbox to see if it was from his mysterious stalker. The new message freaked him out.
To Simmons, our biggest fan
Jason & Mikael
They knew his name!
There was an attachment included, one that Simmons had no intention of opening. His comp did have the best virus protection out there, but he doubted it would be any use against what had to be professional hackers.
"Criminals!" he growled, and set about trying to trace who was sending him this taunts, and where they're located. "Where are you, you bastards..."
Fifteen minutes later he was ready to throw his monitor out the window. This was impossible. There were ways of tracking ISPs, etc., but it seemed these people didn't even have any. What the hell kind of computer where they using? Were they Russian? Japanese? Dammit, he needed to think. Simmons took a few deep breaths. Maybeif he kept up this dialog, they would let something slip.
How did you find this e-mail address?
He clicked 'Send', then waited.
"Yo, Jazz. Whassup?" Ironhide asked, using his friend's Earth jargon.
Jazz tilted his head a bit. "You've been in a pretty good mood lately. What gives?"
"Hmph," Ironhide muttered, but didn't sound nearly as grumpy as he usually does.
Hmm. "--you've been spending a lot more time in Ratchet's pad, too."
"Yeah, I am." Ironhide smiled, very smugly.
Jazz's optics blinked twice in astonishment. "Ironhide, you...you old dog!"
His smile turned into a grin. "What, you jealous?"
"Nooo..." Jazz shook his head emphatically. "Sam's more than enough for me."
Ironhide chuckled, then looked at the computer Jazz had accessed. "What're you doing?"
"I'm having a little fun with Simmons?"
"Simmons?" Ironhide repeated, his customary frown appearing. "That Sector Seven man who captured Bumblebee?"
"The very same. I've been trading e-mails with him," Jazz told him, as he sent another message.
Did you open the attachment?
Ironhide listened as Jazz revealed all that he'd discovered about Simmons, and even showed him the website Simmons frequently visited. "--what in Primus are they doing?"
"It's called 'bondage," Jazz told him. "It's when one human ties another one down, usually to a bed, before having sex."
"--where's the fun in that?" Ironhide's frown deepened, and he shook his head. Some humans were just too peculiar for him to understand.
"No idea. I did find out that most humans go to great lengths to hide this kind of pastime. Don't know why, but they do." Jazz shrugged, then an idea came to him. "Hey, why don't we arrange a meeting between Simmons and his idols?"
"Meaning you and I pretend to be...those two?" Ironhide gestured to the monitor.
"Sure."
"And do what? Leave him tied up somewhere naked?" Ironhide paused, apprehensive, when Jazz suddenly turned and looked at him. "That was a joke."
Jazz's optics glowed with unabashed glee.
Did you open the attachment?
Simmons stared at that question for a long time, debating. Hell, might as well. He opened the attachment, and stared.
Jason and Mikael were there, in all their naked glory. Mikael was chained to the bars of a large cage. He'd never seen them use a cage as a prop before, and he's seen all their performances. Simmons swallowed. No way. This had to be a trick. He rubbed at his forehead, then typed out a reply. Gotta keep 'em 'talking'.
Is this a joke?
Who are you, really?
"He still doesn't believe you," Ironhide stated.
"Of course." Jazz nodded, searching his data banks for a suitable park. Oh, he had to chose this one. It wasn't too far away, either.
You know who we are, and we know who you are.
We want to meet you. Tomorrow at midnight, at Bee Canyon Park.
"Tell him he'll be sorry if he doesn't show up," suggested Ironhide.
"Good idea." He added that and sent the message. "That should convince him."
Ironhide nodded agreement.
'So I'll be sorry, will I?' Simmons bristled at the implied threat. They'd better believe he'll meet them, and be fully prepared. He furiously typed in his answer.
I'll be there.
He clicked 'Send', then went to his closet to dig out his gun, and six bullets.
The next morning Jazz had a surprise for Sam. Since his human was a huge fan of those James Bond movies, and he personally had gotten tired of his current car mode, Jazz had driven by an Aston Martin dealership and scanned a new model. He chose a silver one; he rather liked that shiny color. It took three honks for Sam to realize he'd changed design.
"Jazz?" Sam asked, approaching him after making sure no neighbors were around to hear him talking to a car. The passenger door swung open.
"Hey, Sam. Like your new car?"
"Man, it's so cool!" Sam grinned back and jumped in, admiring the Aston's design. It was a little bigger and had more room inside than the Pontiac, too. "Thanks!"
"No problemo." Jazz teasingly planted a hand on Sam's thigh as he drove him to the mall again. That was apparently the top hang-out place for teenagers during the summer.
Sam's eyebrows shot up, and he grinned. "Is that a hint about tonight?"
"Maybe... Depends on when you wanna get picked up."
"Why? You got other plans?"
Jazz shrugged. "Nah. Nothing much, but you don't wanna break curfew, right?"
Sam nodded. "Right.. Ok, how about around eight? That'll give us about three hours."
"Three hours. I can handle that," Jazz said, grinning as they reached the mall. He moved his hand up, giving Sam a good squeeze before letting him out of the car.
"Whoa... Hey, I'm gonna remember that!" Sam exclaimed, and hopped out.
"Promise?" Jazz said, winking at him before driving off.
"...better believe it.." Sam muttered, then went inside the mall, whistling to himself.
"You're late," Jazz complained.
"Not that late," grumbled Ironhide. "This better not take too long."
"Why? Got a hot date waiting?" he couldn't help but ask.
Ironhide growled at him. "Oh, be quiet and keep an eye out for him."
"Okay, okay...grouch..."
"Hmph."
"Ironhide left the base at this time of night?" Optimus asked, puzzled.
Ratchet nodded, looking slightly irritated. "Yes. He seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. And Jazz hasn't returned yet, either. I have a vaguely bad feeling about this."
Vaguely bad? Optimus turned to Bumblebee. "Would you call Sam and ask him if he knows where Jazz might be?"
Bumblebee hesitantly nodded, concerned. "Sir?"
"What is it, Bumblebee?"
"Jazz has been asking me about Sector Seven, and how I was treated by them."
Optimus blinked at him, surprised. "You believe he may have taken it upon himself to avenge you?"
"It's possible," Bumblebee reluctantly admitted. "He did seem angry, even though I didn't tell him much..."
Ratchet frowned. "This could be a problem, Optimus."
Optimus clapped a hand to his head with a dull metal thud. Why now, after several months of peace? Annoyed, he almost growled out orders."Alert Sam, Mikaela...and Glen. And please scan the computers. Jazz will have used one to gather information on Sector Seven. There may be a clue in one as to where he's gone."
"What..." Sam groaned as his phone rang and rang, rolling over to look at his clock. Who'd be calling this late? He grabbed the phone, almost knocking it to the floor, and answered it. "Hello?"
"Sam, it's Bumblebee. Did I wake you?"
"Bee?" Sam sat up quickly; his best friend sounded a little...off. "Uh.. No, no. What's wrong?"
"Jazz hasn't returned to base yet. Did he happen to mention any plans for tonight?"
"No... No plans. He should be there," Sam said, worried now. "Did something happen to Jazz? Is he okay?"
Bumblebee hesitated briefly before filling him in. "We believe Jazz and Ironhide have tracked down and arranged a meeting of sorts with Agent Simmons."
"Oh, you're kidding!"
"I'm afraid not, Sam." Bee definitely sounded upset now. As upset as Sam's ever heard him.
"Damn... That can't be good." Sam rubbed the back of his head. What the hell was Jazz thinking, messing with that Sector Seven guy? "Should I come over? I can sneak out easy enough."
"I was hoping you'd offer to. I'll be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes."
"Ok, I'll be waiting out back in the alley. See you then, Bee."
"Thank you, Sam." Bumblebee terminated the connection, informed Mikaela and Glen of the situation, then set to work scanning the computers. Jazz did indeed target Sector Seven, and Agent Simmons in particular. Unfortunately, he was unable to discover where exactly Jazz and Ironhide had gone. Jazz had looked up a list of parks, more than a dozen of them. With only himself, Optimus and Ratchet, it would take too long to search each park to prevent whatever it was Jazz had planned.
All they could do was wait for Jazz and Ironhide to return to base. Which was doing nothing to help Optimus' current bad mood.
Ever cautious, Simmons parked his car in a field about half a mile from the park, and walked the rest of the way. The park appeared to be deserted, but it was hard to tell for sure; most of the tall lamps were turned off to save electricity. He pulled out his flashlight and looked around, in every direction. There was no sight or sound of anyone else here, but that didn't mean they weren't lurking in the shadows. There were plenty of trees to hide behind. Dammit.
Meet us by the benches, they'd said. Simmons patted his back pocket, feeling the reassuring bulk of his gun, before heading over there. He spent the next twenty minutes pacing back and forth, looking around in every direction. 11:55 now, according to his watch. The snapping of a branch made him turn to stare at a group of nearby trees. "Who's there!"
"Can you believe that, Mikael? He forgot our names already!" a peevish voice spoke, directly behind him.
Simmons spun around and backed up several steps. What the hell!? Mikael and Jason were actually standing right there. Or else they were their exact doubles, right down to the multiple tattoos covering Mikael's thickly muscled arms. Blond Jason was as slender and wiry as he looked on the computer monitor. Neither of them had a stitch of clothing on, either. Simmons shook his head in denial. "This can not happening!"
"We flew all the way from Boston for this?" Jason/Jazz bemoaned. "I'm hurt!"
Ironhide felt a sudden urge to smack Jazz. He split his focus between his Mikael holoform and his truck form, and spoke in Cybertronian, quietly. /You're over-doing it!/
Jazz/car chuckled. /Yeah, but it's fun./
/Well...maybe a little./ Ironhide/truck grudgingly conceded.
"You said you wanted to meet us. In the flesh, right?" Jason continued, moving closer to Simmons. "You even came early!"
"You stop right there!" Simmons ordered, pulling out his gun and aiming it at them. "Who put you up to this?"
/Now look what you've done/ Ironhide/truck grumbled.
/You could help, you know../ Jazz/car retorted, then turned his concentration back to his temporary new holoform and continued to ham it up. "We didn't know you liked to play with dangerous toys! I can show you another use for that. Minus the bullets, of course."
/Jazz!/ Ironhide/truck fairly snarled. /Weapons are not to be misused in that fashion!/
Jazz/car backed up a foot. /Ok! Ok! It was just a joke!/
"What the hell was that?" Simmons turned his gun toward the trees, hearing a strange electronic sound.
"Squirrels," Jason said.
"Squirrels don't sound like that!" Simmons exclaimed. There had to be more people out there, watching, and undoubtedly recording all this. His gun and flashlight were plucked out of his hands then, way too easily, by Mikael, who was suddenly standing right next to him now. "What the-- How'd you do that??"
Jason actually looked startled himself for a split second, then recovered and smiled. "We're magicians. Couldn't you tell from our shows?"
/You almost blew it!/ Jazz/car complained.
/Sorry/ Ironhide/truck said, without sounding it one bit. /Just think this is taking too long./
/Well, try to be more careful. This guy's really paranoid./
Simmons back away and held his hands up, glaring at them. "You'll never get away with this!"
"Relax, I'm not going to shoot you." Mikael rolled his eyes and tossed the gun and flashlight aside, onto the grass. ""Why're you being so difficult?
"Who the hell sent you?" demanded Simmons. "Were they Japanese? Are you working for them?"
"We probably do have Japanese fans. Hell, we have friends all over the world." Jason smiled. "We do read our own message board, you know."
"We've visited fans before, too," Mikael added, and glanced at Jason for back-up.
"Yeah," Jason nodded emphatically. "There's a certain Senator who likes to be spanked while wearing scuba gear."
/--Huh?/
/Don't ask/ Jazz/car told a baffled Ironhide.
/Sure.. No problem./
Simmons' mouth dropped open. "That...that's just a crazy rumor!"
"Guess again, "Jason said, smugly. "We've got more stories to tell you, if you play nice."
"Do you like being submissive, too?" Mikael asked, crowding Simmons back against the edge of a bench. A strong tug on his shirt sent buttons flying.
"Uh.. I..." Simmons backed up more, uncertain now, and plopped down onto the bench with an 'Oof!'.
/Way to go, Ironhide. You got him now/ crowed Jazz/car.
/You go for his pants. Don't just stand there watching/ Ironhide/truck ordered, as his holoform roughly pulled off Simmons' shirt. /And where'd you say you hid those handcuffs you found at the base?/
/They're on the ground, next to the front left bench leg./
Simmons was too shocked by the whole thing to resist, and tried to think this through logically. This couldn't possibly be happening. It had to be a weird dream he was having trouble waking up from, probably because of that Chinese take-out he had for dinner. It just had to be. Right?
"I think he does," Jason said, coming forward to yank Simmons' pants and undershorts down and off, taking his shoes off, too. "We've had a lot of practice with subs, haven't we, Mikael?"
"Oh, yeah. Lots of practice." Mikael leaned down, pushing Simmons against the back of the bench as he reached for the handcuffs.
Jason sat down on the bench, sidling up to Simmons to distract him while Mikael used the cuffs. "Do you like blindfolds, too?"
Simmons stared, then shook his head vigorously. "No. No blindfolds."
Jason smiled triumphantly. "So... Do you still think we're not really here?"
"Uh..no.." Simmons shook his head.
"Well, you were right the first time," Mikael told him.
"--what?" Simmons gaped, shocked, as Mikael and Jason seemed to...evaporate right in front of his eyes" "What..the..hell?"
The sound of two engines revving up drifted out from among the trees, and two cars were heard speeding off.
"Sonofa..." Simmons started to jump to his feet, but was jerked off balance by the handcuff that now locked his wrist to the bench. "Son of a bitch!"
"What was that about squirrels, Jazz?" Ironhide asked, as they reached the base and transformed back to their robotic forms.
"Hey, it was the first thing I could come up with. You could've been a little quieter, you know," Jazz griped back, following Ironhide inside.
"Yeah, yeah..." Ironhide answered, as they entered the living area. Both stopped in their tracks. Everyone was there, waiting. Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Maggie, Sam, Mikaela, and even Glen. None of them looked very pleased, except Glen, who was playing a game on his computer.
"--Hi?" Jazz said to them.
"Report, you two," Optimus said crisply, his optics narrowing.
He knows, Jazz realized, apprehensive as he and Ironhide exchanged glances.
/He was gonna find out eventually./ Ironhide told him, shrugging.
Optimus crossed his arms, looking very intimidating as he waited.
They took turns telling their leader everything.
"You did what?" Optimus demanded afterward, his angry voice filling the room. "What is the matter with you?!"
"Dudes, that was wicked!" Glen exclaimed, then wisely turned back to his video game at the look Optimus gave him. "...never mind me..."
"We didn't actually harm the man," Jazz was quick to point out, although he and Ironhide both shifted on their feet, guiltily.
"That is not the point, Jazz! We do not take revenge, either!" Optimus snapped back. Primus, what has gotten into those two? He started to wonder if something had corrupted their systems, but Ratchet would have immediately sensed if anything was wrong. Their actions were very reckless, and potentially dangerous, but they weren't infected with anything. However, he could not overlook their behavior. Ratchet crossed his arms, staring at Jazz and Ironhide with strong disapproval, while Bumblebee shook his head in dismay. "Where did you leave him?"
"Bee Canyon Park," Ironhide told him. "We're going to go back and let him go in a couple hours."
Optimus fixed a grim glare on the pair. "No, you will not. You and Jazz are now restricted to the base, for the next thirty days. There will be no 'joy-riding' during that time," he said, looking at Jazz, then at Ironhide, "--or trips to the practice range. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Optimus." Both lowered their heads a little, accepting his discipline without protest.
A further restriction occurred to him, and he looked meaningfully at Sam and Maggie, who'd been looking at Ironhide and Jazz with disbelief ever since their antics had been revealed..
Sam caught on first. "No more sex for thirty days, either, I say," he declared. "That was real dirty, guys."
Maggie looked from Sam to Optimus, then nodded. "I have to agree with Sam. No sex."
"Aw, man..." Jazz, and Ironhide, looked even more chagrined.
"You'll survive," Bumblebee said dryly.
"Simmons did let Bee go, after all," Maggie felt obligated to point out.
"At gunpoint," Mikaela murmured, not as sympathetic to Simmons as her friends.
"Yeah, he's a dick. But he tried to be a useful one."
Glen, overhearing Sam's remark from his computer, snickered.
"He also helped contact the military, to fight the Decepticons," Maggie determinedly continued. "As well as that nasty small one."
"Frenzy," Ironhide scoffed. "That little runt.."
Optimus spoke again, heading off an imminent argument. "Ratchet, would you take these two to your medical bay and perform complete diagnostics on their systems? I believe they may have caught a 'bug'."
"Right away, sir." Ratchet nodded to him, then turned to Jazz and Ironhide. "C'mon, you two."
"...why did I let you talk me into it?" Ironhide growled, giving Jazz a small shove to get him moving.
"--yeah, blame me," Jazz growled back, as they marched into the med bay.
"I'll be back shortly," Optimus told the others.
"Do you want one of us to go with you?" asked Maggie.
He hesitated a moment. "No.. I think it's best if I deal with this alone. But thank you for offering, Maggie."
"You're welcome, Optimus."
"Good luck!" Sam told him.
"Yeah, good luck," echoed Mikaela, a little less enthusiastically, and shrugged. Whatever.
"Thank you." Optimus transformed and rolled out..
Sam and Maggie both crept up to the closed med bay door, where strange noises could be heard coming from within. "Just what do you think he's doing to them?"
Sam asked a couple minutes later, in a hushed voice.
"I have no idea," Maggie replied, equally wide-eyed. "It sounds kind of like...multiple prostrate exams?"
"...geez..." They quietly returned to the living room area, as the groaning continued.