This isn't really All That Jazz 2, but a filler until my writer's block is over. Maybe ten chapters, though I can't see this one being even THAT long
Enjoy! R&R! All That Jazz (lol)
Zex
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Ch.1
KA-BOOOM! Ahh, it's beautiful...
"Ameee!" Moonracer's long-winded call echoed around the hydroponics bay. The only response was a slight, yellow femme dashing around the corner, and nearly knocking over a large pumpkin under a hydrogen lamp. "Oh, good!" Moonracer trotted up to the panting femme. "Hey Goldbug, where's your mama?" She smiled.
The yellow femme teen slumped slightly. "She's not here. Obviously." Goldbug looked around the empty greenhouse of plants varying not only by type, but homeworld.
"Well, not so obvious to those who don't know where she is." Moonracer said uncharacteristically eloquent. "Where is she?"
Goldbug hesitated to answer. "I'm not supposed to tell." She folded her arms.
Moonracer knew how to deal with the still mentally immature Autobot. She smiled sweetly. "But I have a big job for her, and I could really use your help finding her." The mint green Autobot took the smaller femme's hands. "You can tell me, remember what you called me first off when you were little?"
Goldbug tried to hide a smile. "Moonie."
"You remembered." Moonracer hopped excitedly. "Now, just because you have to be grown up doesn't mean you have to be grown up." She grinned.
Goldbug sighed again. "You can't tell dad." She said, her more mature demeanor returning.
Moonracer started. "Why not?" She squinted one blue optic. "I mean, I wasn't going to, she's late for her research...thing," Moonracer flitted a hand. "Anyway, Ratchet's looking for her."
"Well," Goldbug squinted slightly, giving it some serious thought, but still under oath by her mother to not tell a single spark where the blue femme was.
"I'll give you all my Energon goodies." Moonracer offered.
Goldbug gasped. "Okay!"
Moonracer smiled. That was easy.
Goldbug leaned in close, and gave Moonracer a little waving gesture. "Dad'll get really jealous if he finds out, so don't tell him. This one time when mom was hanging out with Bumblebee, I thought dad was gonna blow a servo because he thinks mom is happier around him, but I think he's lost his processor. Even Chromia says dad's circuitry is malfunctioning if he thinks Bumblebee would ever-"
"Goldbug," Moonracer interrupted. "You're rambling again. Where's Amy?" She asked again.
"Ohh!" Goldbug chuckled slightly. "Sorry, she went to see Wheeljack."
"That's it?" Moonracer felt a slight pang of disappointment. "That's the big secret you were keeping?"
Goldbug nodded, innocently.
The ground shook in unison with an explosion somewhere off.
Moonracer rolled her optics, and ran off.
Goldbug sighed, and skipped naively down the aisles back toward a group of honeydews the size of copy machines.
Wheeljack's lab was full to the brim with thick, black, even oily, smoke. Prowl's vents choked on the vaporous substance as he entered the blindingly dense cloud.
"Wheeljack!" Prowl called out. "What in Primus exploded this time?"
Laughter bubbled up from the room.
"Wheeljack!" Prowl exclaimed.
A form wobbled toward Prowl, laughing, and leaned against his front.
"Holy crap, did you see that?" A female voice laughed. "That was awesome! Wheeljack, dude, that was amazing!"
Prowl sighed. "Blazer." He shook his head slightly. "Why am I not surprised you're here?"
Exhaust vents purred, and the smoke cleared in a matter of nanoclicks.
A blue femme standing as high as Prowl's chin was looking off to the right where a black blob started to move, and cough. "Call me Amy, okay?" she coughed
"Are either of you injured?" Prowl asked.
"Hey Wheeljack!" Amy trotted over to the blackened Autobot scientist, laughing.
Wheeljack stood up, shook his head a couple times, black dust flying off his hull plating then looked at the machine.
"Well, I was expecting at least slight electrocution." Wheeljack walked over to a burnt-out plate, and peeled it off. "But it works!" He cheered, waving the plate around triumphantly
"Like it was supposed to do that?" Amy gawked.
"Am I being ignored?" Prowl asked, frowning.
Amy turned. "No, Prowl, hi." She walked over, and patted his shoulder. "You doin' okay? How's Bluestreak?"
Prowl nodded. "Today he won't stop talking about sandworms."
"Really? That's awesome." Amy giggled, folding her arms over her middle.
"You certainly are jubilant." Prowl noted with some relief.
Amy nodded. "Why shouldn't I be?" Her smile faded slightly.
Prowl sighed. She certainly was suited for Jazz
Amy sighed. "Jazz works a lot, and I understand. The kids go to school, and it's not easy being an Autobot, so I'm here being amused by Wheeljack repeatedly blowing himself up."
"I heard that!" Wheeljack looked over from his workstation.
Amy looked at the Autobot, her face quirking in a way that could almost be raising an eyebrow.
Prowl nodded once. "Be that as it may, Blazer-"
"Amy." She interrupted. "Please, call me Amy." The blue femme put her hands together in a pleading gesture, and pouted slightly.
"Don't you have better, more educational things to do?" Prowl asked suggestively.
Amy scratched her head. "Can't think of anything." She lied.
Prowl folded his arms. "Then perhaps I'm wrong to assume you have arranged with Ratchet to dissect a Petro-Rabbit."
Amy muttered something inaudible, but obviously disgusted.
Prowl sighed. The once human Amy Miller certainly was trouble for the Autobots, but at the same time a heavenly burden. He smiled slightly.
"Hel-looh?" Amy waved a hand in front of Prowl's face. "Earth to Prowl, come in Prowl. All frequencies clear. Stop staring at me, it's creepy!" She clapped her hands in his face.
Prowl started. "I must insist you speak with Ratchet before week's end." He turned to leave.
"No, wait! Don't leave! I just fixed it, I know it'll work now!" Wheeljack beamed, holding up a green cube-like thing.
"Aww, and here I thought you were making a great big smoke machine." Amy pretended to pout.
Wheeljack's excitement didn't falter. "No, the city already has one. It creates a smoke wall through every crevice of the city, and when the shield is up it becomes a big black festering, dome death trap!" He gestured wildly.
Amy was stricken speechless for a moment. "And that would used for...what?" She squinted slightly.
"I dunno," Wheeljack shrugged. "But it looks cool from space." He chuckled.
Prowl sighed, and scratched his forehead above his left eye.
"huh." Amy nodded slightly. "Like black fog."
"Yeah!" Wheeljack said, standing next to his machine. "Except it suffocates your vents, and results in complete function overload!" He exclaimed excitedly.
Amy frowned slightly. "Well that's not very useful at all."
Wheeljack looked at Amy, glaring slightly.
"Right this second. If we were invaded by...little tiny robots," Amy scoffed. "Pish, they'd be dead in, like, nanoclicks, or some smaller increment of time that I have no idea exists."
Wheeljack nodded. "Yeah, it'd be awesome." He looked back at his latest invention.
Prowl leaned over, and said the only thing he could to Amy's remark. "The likelihood of such an event is improbable."
"I know, Prowl." Amy whispered.
The scientist Autobot installed the device, and rubbed his palms together. If not for the plate replacing his mouth, he would have had the most devious little grin on his face. "One for the credits, two for the show, three to get fragged, and four to-..." Wheeljack paused. "Hey guys, could you pull those two red levers when I say so?" He asked, hopeful.
"Okie dokie, smokie!" Amy hopped off the stool, and trotted over to the machine. "Ready when you are!" She saluted.
"If I get my head blown off, my spark will haunt you, Wheeljack." Prowl frowned.
"GO!" Wheeljack pressed a little red button.
Amy and Prowl threw the switches.
The machine crackled, and popped, and seethed blue electricity. It whirred, and groaned, and a small "uh oh." Was heard, all in a matter of nanoclicks.
In real-time the three Autobots were floored before they could see what exactly was happening.
The explosion rocked the entire city, and startled even those accustomed to Wheeljack's experiments, and loud inventing.
Jazz paused writing his report, and looked up at the picture shaking on the wall. He narrowed his optics slightly at the holograph of his family. The frame rattled, and fell, shattering the surface projecting the hologram.
"Frag!" Bluestreak jumped up, and looked at Jazz,
"What happened?" Jazz turned, and looked at the grey mech, eyes still narrowed slightly.
"The console just died." Bluestreak said exasperatedly, slamming his fists on the metal surface.
Jazz groaned. "Wheeljack." He growled, and ran out of the room.
Bluestreak stood in the security office, at a loss.
Jazz transformed, and drove in alt mode toward Wheeljack's lab on the opposite end of town. The shaking subsided, and the lieutenant picked up speed.
Again, the room was filled with smoke, but no laughter. Wheeljack was in stasis on the ground, face down, and blackened as usual.
Prowl's systems slowly re-activated, starting with his optics sensors. His internal diagnostics ran scans, and he was pretty much okay. "Ow." He sat up, extending his legs out, and leaning back on his hands. He leaned on his left hand, and used his right to hold a blackened spot on his torso.
Amy grumbled, and turned over. She sat up quickly, and shook her head. "Are you damaged?" she asked the policeman, her optic casing squinted shut from the throbbing pain in her entire body.
"No." Prowl shook his head blearily. "M'okay." He looked around. "Where's Wheeljack?" His eyes focused on a black-ish blob facedown on the floor, and shook his head. "I wonder what it's supposed to do, besides explode."
"I would not ask such things." Amy held a hand to her face. She rubbed her optics slightly then paused, looking slightly disturbed. She raised her other hand to her face, and felt the planes with confusion. "This is not right."
Prowl groaned. "You're telling me. I feel a thousand pounds heavier." He fell back on the ground with a thud.
Amy stood as the exhaust fans turned on, and ran toward a window facing a darkened room adjacent to the lab. It was dusty, and unused; Wheeljack's would-be office. A place most Autobots wished he would use, but knew they would miss the explosions too much, and never said a word about it; Optimus himself included. Amy wiped away a spot, and peered at the reflection. She blinked her optic casings, and narrowed her eyes at the glass pane.
The face staring back at her was not one she expected, but was that of Jazz's beloved sparkmate. She turned slowly, and looked at the familiar black and white form lying on the ground.
The white head, the red crest, black arms, it was all Prowl, except he was not there at all. Amy looked back at the window.
"I am not accustomed to dreaming while in stasis." Amy muttered.
Prowl turned his head. "Whadja say?" He stared at the blue form by the window. Had the blast effected his optic sensors? He sat up, stared some more then hit his head with one hand.
"That won't help." Amy said, waving one hand slowly at the window then abruptly grabbing a toolbox propped against the wall.
"That's not me." Prowl shook his head slowly. "Is it?"
Amy turned. "It is you, but somehow..." she turned back to the window. "Me."
"Wheeljack!" Jazz ran in, and saw Prowl sitting on the floor. "Prowl, man, you okay?" He walked up, and patted his fellow security bot's back.
Prowl looked up, his optics wide. "I'm not Prowl." He said with same voice as Prowl, the same face as Prowl, but not an expression Prowl would usually make.
Jazz started. Was Prowl malfunctioning? "A'ight, not-Prowl, if you ain't, who is?" He asked smugly. There was no other Prowl in the room, so what could he say?
Not what Jazz expected, that's for sure.
Prowl leaned back on one hand, and crossed his feet. He pointed one hand at the blue femme by the window. "He is." He muttered. "Er, I guess she is."
Amy turned, and glowered at Prowl.
Prowl lowered his hand, and sidled behind Jazz's leg.
Jazz had to stop and think for a moment. Prowl wasn't Prowl? Amy is Prowl? What the slag happened here? He looked down at his security partner hiding behind his leg, peeking out at the grumpy blue femme staring into the window, muttering.
"Amy?" Jazz asked the blue femme tentatively.
Amy turned silently, and would have glared a hole through Jazz's head.
Prowl tugged on Jazz's leg. "I'm down here, sweetie." He whimpered, pouting slightly.
Jazz felt a discomforting tingle run up his leg, and into his back. He looked down at the security bot sitting on the floor, holding his leg with one hand, leaning his head on his calf.
"Say dat again?" Jazz looked at Prowl like the bot had just sprung an oil leak.
Prowl gave a martyred sigh, folded his arms, and pouted angrily. "You're lucky I love you, or I'd shoot you in the head."
"Dis Ain't happenin'." Jazz started.
Amy turned, and leaned her back against the window. "I fear it is, Lieutenant Jazz." She folded her arms, and looked down at the floor. "I'm not sure what Wheeljack's machine was for, but it seems to have, for the moment, switched mine and Amy's core consciousness." She said.
"What about Jack?" Jazz's voice exclaimed.
"We'll have to see about that when he re-activates." Amy turned, and leveled her gaze with the lieutenant. "Until then, we need a medical team in here to tend to him; I have to say I do not want to be the one to tell Ratchet what Wheeljack has done to your sparkmate."
Coming Soon
CH.2
Where Jazz is concerned