Crack...crack,crack,crack! Thats all this story will be crack...and smut...XD
This is going to be the "cleaner" version. I'll post the much dirtier version (aka sticky version) somewhere...more appropriate (I'm sure some of you can guess where...if you can't guess and really want to know send me a note and I'll tell ya)
This story contain all kinds of crack, AU, slash, non-con, dub-con...I think thats it for now.
Edited by Peacewish
Chapter 1
Prowl didn't want this transfer to Iacon. He understood the reasons, but understanding didn't do much to alleviate his anger. Anger that flared up yet again as he watched trepidation settle on his younger brother's little face. Bluestreak stared out the window of their new quarters, eyeing the city while chewing on his lower lip, a sure sign of his distress.
"It's… it's so much bigger than Praxus. And darker." Bluestreak seemed to huddle into himself. "Shouldn't there be more streetlights on at this time of night?"
Prowl reached over and shut the blinds, effectively blocking the sight that had upset his brother.
"Doesn't matter, you won't be going out after dark anyway." Prowl motioned towards Bluestreak's new room. "You have boxes to unpack. Streetlights should be the last thing on your mind, go." He gave Bluestreak a gentle push away from the window. Bluestreak looked up at Prowl, his expression worried.
"But you go out after dark… what if something hap-"
"I'll be fine, Bluestreak. You've no need to worry about me. Okay? Now, go, finish unpacking what you can tonight."
Bluestreak gave Prowl a grin before nodding and trotting off to his room. Prowl waited until he was gone before returning his attention to the window, parting a few of the slats to look at Iacon's too-dim street another look.
In truth, Bluestreak had every right to be worried. Enforcers died on these streets. Prowl had been forced to contact their older brother and tell him about transferring to this pit, and in the process they'd had to discuss what would happen to Bluestreak if Prowl became one of those aforementioned enforcers. No, Prowl had not been happy to have that conversation, and he was not happy to be standing here now.
The organized crime in Iacon had taken such a nasty turn in recent vorns, Enforcer stations within the city were forced to send out requests for reinforcements from all over Cybertron. Prowl and a few others had been selected from Station 456 in Praxus. Normally Prowl followed orders without complaint, and if this transfer had only involved him then he wouldn't have protested. But he had Bluestreak to think of.
Their creators had passed on almost six vorns ago, in a freak transportation accident. Bluestreak had been aboard as well, and was one of the few survivors. His brother had been little more than a sparkling at the time. A happy sparkling… not that Bluestreak wasn't or couldn't be happy now, but he'd watched his creators die violently with his own optics and at a very young age. Physically he'd survived; emotionally he'd been left ravaged and scarred.
Prowl had been there to pick up the pieces. He'd taken in, stood by, and cared for Bluestreak as the youngling struggled to heal and to cope. He'd been getting better over the last couple of vorns. Even though there were still times late at night he would hear Bluestreak's stuttering hitched intakes, and soft keening as he cried in his berth.
And when it became too much, the oppressive silence of the night, coupled with nightmarish images, would drive Bluestreak to seek out Prowl in his own berth. Prowl would wake suddenly to the feeling of two small arms hugging him tight as his brother's smaller frame curled into his, shaking. And Bluestreak would cry as Prowl stroked his helm and whispered soothing words of comfort.
And now, thanks to the transfer, Prowl had been forced to uproot Bluestreak from a neighborhood he knew and felt safe in, take him away from the academy he loved, away from all the friends he had made, and place Bluestreak in completely unfamiliar territory. Make him attend a strange academy with no friends. Prowl had spoken with his supervisor about the situation, asking if it were possible for another to take his place. But his supervisor stood firm with the transfer, even if he did sympathize with Prowl and his situation, explaining that Iacon needed his skills.
So tomorrow he would report for duty and Bluestreak would attend the new academy. No, he wasn't happy about any of this at all.
He walked with Bluestreak to his new academy, and took the chance to do a visual sweep of all the other young mechs flocking toward the entrance. So many of them walked in groups. Prowl hoped Bluestreak would fit in well enough to be accepted into at least one of them, that Bluestreak would not have to be alone. As they approached the gate, Prowl stopped.
"Be good, Bluestreak." Prowl handed his little brother the all-important communicator. "If anything happens or you need me, call right away."
Bluestreak subspaced the device, and smiled bravely.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine!" Bluestreak reached up and hugged Prowl, whispering to him, "Come home safe."
That made Prowl smile. "Of course."
Bluestreak released him and with a wave trotted off through the gates, up the steps, and into the academy. Assured Bluestreak was safe inside, Prowl turned and made his way to the Enforcer Center. The drive took longer than he'd expected, but he still managed to arrive ahead of time.
His new supervisor, Dodger, greeted him warmly.
"It's a pleasure having you on our team, Prowl. Your file practically sings of your skills."
"Thank you, sir."
Dodger waved Prowl through a door.
"Come, I'll show you your desk and then I'll introduce you to the team. Get you working on some of the open cases we've got."
Prowl nodded in agreement. The desk, to his pleasant surprise, was large and suitably designed for organizing files. The team, on the other hand, was surprisingly small. Dodger assured him there was a good reason, while Prowl found an unoccupied chair.
"Prowl, this is Rundown, Range, Beta, Spikestrip, and Torque." Each mech gave Prowl a nod of acknowledgment. "It's a small team, I know, but that's because we're tracking him."
Dodger hit a button on the screen at the front of the room and an image of a visored mech smiling boldly into the camera came up.
"This is Jazz. We know a lot about Jazz and what he does, but it's all circumstantial and little would hold up in a trial. On top of that, he's one slick mech and can avoid arrest like no other. He's the mouthpiece and right hand of a crime lord we have yet to identify."
Prowl watched the screen as image after image showed Jazz not even bothering to hide himself from the camera. In some images it even looked like he was posing for the picture. Prowl frowned.
"He doesn't care if his imaged is captured?"
Range snorted. "He prefers it."
"Is the mech unstable?"
Dodger shook his head. "If he were, Prowl, it would make our jobs easier. Unstable mechs can be lured out and caught. Don't let anything about Jazz fool or mislead you, he's extremely intelligent and very dangerous. He -"
Another enforcer dashed into the office without warning.
"Sir!"
Dodger and everyone else looked up, the urgency in both face and tone demanding instant attention.
"We just had a hit go down in a business over by the trade market - looks like some of Jazz's mechs might have been involved."
Dodger nodded. "Right. Everyone, go. Range, I want you with Prowl. Get him a weapon and meet us down there."
"Yes, sir."
Jazz lounged in a comfy chair, feet propped up on the computer console as he casually sipped some of his finest high grade. Idly he watched the monitors as enforcer after enforcer entered the business and began searching for evidence. He always got a good chuckle out of watching them run around, desperately trying to find something, anything, to pin on him. It was, of course, futile. They never had and never would find anything.
Jazz sank into his chair, air cycling from his vents in a casual sigh, dangerously close to slipping into recharge. The monitor was abuzz with activity, though, and he grinned when he saw "his" team start filing in through the door. They did try so hard... sometimes he almost felt sorry for them. He chuckled and tossed back the last of the high grade, then poured another. It was time for the show.
Dodger was first. The frustration all over his face had Jazz grinning. Aww, poor mech. And then there was Rundown, Beta at his side of course, and - wait, someone was missing. He'd just done a headcount when Range walked in, and Jazz quirked a brow ridge beneath the visor. Late? Not like Range to be late.
Then an enforcer Jazz had never seen before slipped in behind Range. Jazz stared for a moment, sat up, and set the high grade aside. He tapped on the screen to bring up a magnified image of the mech, pausing it when he got a good shot. Jazz leaned forward over the console, resting his chin in one hand as he drank in the image of this new enforcer.
He reached out a finger and caressed one side of the image's red chevron, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.
"And who might you be?"
_Author's notes_
Quick, short intro chapter. This piece of crack plot has been sitting in my notebook for ages! Don't take a word of it seriously. It's crack from word one! XD
Of course reading and reviewing is always loved! Keeps me going! XD
Blackmail Story Teaser!
Prowl stared, transfixed and horrified, as the vid played. Helpless, he watched the night before play out... but with some serious differences. In the vid as Jazz kissed Prowl, Prowl was no longer bound with his hands behind his back. It now showed Prowl running his hands over Jazz as they kissed.
Prowl shook his head as he watched Jazz in the vid slide down his body, watched as one of HIS hands cupped the back of Jazz's black helm while the other stroked his arm. Prowl shook his head again.
"That is not what happened."
Jazz simply grinned at him. "But that's what they'll see. And that's what they'll believe."
Prowl shook his head. "No. No, they won't. The vid would be examined by our top specialist. He'd be able to pinpoint where and how it's been altered and tampered with."
Jazz leaned his head back against the chair and chuckled, before releasing his vents in a good-natured sigh. His grin was frightening untroubled.
"Prowl, who do ya think I got ta alter the vid for meh? Come on now, don' be naive. An' in case ya wonderin', that top specialist o' yours will declare the vid valid an' untouched, in front of your squad an' in front of the senate."
Although Jazz could see Prowl's jaw clench, he remained otherwise silent and expressionless. Jazz pushed for more.
"Ya know what that means, right? Ya gonna go ta jail, Prowl. Ya rank an' title stripped from ya. Ya'd no longer be the shinin' example of what an Enforcer should be. Ya'd just be another shameful reminder of what's wrong with Iacon."
Behind the visor, optics narrowed as Prowl's face remained expressionless.
"Means every case ya worked on will be reopened. All those nasty criminals ya put away will have the option of retrial. An' with ya character an' motivations now bein' called in ta question along with how ya obtained ya evidence, how many of 'em do ya think will remain in jail? How many of 'em do ya think will claim ya worked for meh the whole time an' they simply got put away cause they knew too much?"
Prowl remained silent, stony gaze fixed on Jazz. Jazz wanted Prowl to react, wanted to know he had Prowl backed into a corner, and to do that he needed to find a weakness. Clearly Prowl's Enforcer rank and title were not it. Time to sink to a different level and strike some low blows.
"An' how would that little brother o' yours take it?"
Prowl's face darkened, optics blazing a little more brightly. Jazz almost grinned in triumph. There we go.
"What would little Bluestreak think of his big brother, the hero, after watching him enjoy interfacing with a criminal? And he will watch the vid, Prowl. I'll see ta that personally. It'd be easy, after all, ya can' be with him all the time."
Jazz watched as white hands clenched into fists, and doorwings tremble with barely contained anger.
"Ta be honest I don' think it'd go over very well, Prowl. Bluestreak seems to be a little… fragile."
It was low, underhanded, and mean but if it got Jazz what he wanted then he didn't care. Prowl glared at him.
"What do you want?"
Jazz grinned. Those were the words he wanted to hear.
"I want you, Prowl. I want you to do what I ask, when I ask it, without question or protest. Your two new favorite words will be 'Yes, Jazz'. The consequences of refusal will be harsh. Do you understand, Prowl?"
"Yes."
Jazz leaned forward toward the monitor, head cocked to the side some.
"Yes..?"
Prowl looked away in disgust. "Yes, Jazz".
Jazz grinned and sat back as Prowl turned to glare at him again.
"Good." Jazz reached over, his finger resting on a button. "I'll be in touch, Prowl."
And the screen went blank.
