Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. It belongs to Hasbro.

Written for the pxj Anniversay challenge, day 9 on LJ.

Beta: Starfire201 and taralynden (Two heroes who betaed everything despite headaches, storms and lack of time!)

Verse: AU, G1

Words: 22,400 (completed)

Lies and murders

In a dark part of Iacon's heavy industrial sector, a mech slowly stumbled backwards through a narrow alley until his back hit the wall. He had reached a dead end. With wide, terrified optics he looked at the nearing bot, not quite able to believe what was happening.

"Please," he begged, desperation in every word. "I've done nothing, I swear. Said nothing, really."

But the bot didn't listen, nor did his steps slow.

"Please, have mercy!"

And nearer and nearer he came.

"You're an Autobot! Have mercy, I've done nothing, please, listen -"

A bright flash of an energy dagger, the slow gurgle of a capped energon line, then the mech crumpled to the ground and lay there, a pile of slowly greying parts. The alley was now utterly silent, not even the slightest noise betraying the engine of the assailant.

A white high-class visor flashed up for a moment, scanning the body and checking that the mech was really dead, then he turned and casually walked away, not caring that one of his pedes stepped onto the hand of the killed mech, crushing it.

As he reached the end of the alley, he put his energy dagger into his subspace and transformed into a sleek vehicle that stormed onto the highway and vanished with a streak of silver among the many normal citizens.

Nothing moved in the alley anymore. Then, a slow groan, a movement above the alley in a long abandoned dockway for floaters to bring in their goods. A green mech, trembling in horror and fear, jumped down and crawled to the corpse.

"No, no, no," he murmured and gently touched the head. "Why? Why you?"

"Designation?" asked Prowl with a frown as he scrutinized the brightly lit murder scene.

The poor victim was lying at the end of a nameless alley in one of the worst parts of Iacon. Usually a murder in this area could go unnoticed for a long time, but Prowl already had a feeling that in this case nothing was usual.

"Tumbler," said the Enforcer, who was called Backbeat and had been the one to inform Prowl. They had worked together on previous cases and had formed a bond of mutual respect. "He was an Autobot since the fall of Praxus, loyal. His friends describe him as gentle, peaceful even."

The mech had a dark blue paintjob with white highlights. Nothing too fancy, but time and credits had been put into the upkeep. Obviously a mech who had cared about how he looked. It made his undignified pose on the ground, with mouth wide open and an ugly hole in the the chest where the spark chamber was even more horrible.

The tactician got down next to the corpse.

The fatal damage itself was interesting. Because every frame kind and production line, not even counting individual adjustments or unique creations, had their vital spark chamber in a slightly different place in the upper body; there were over ten thousand possible angles at which the spark chamber was. Added to this was the fact that the murderer severed with the same hit the main energon line, making it all the more interesting. This hadn't been luck. The murder had happened swiftly and with precision. No amateur, then. Someone who had access to data on at least this frame, maybe on many others as well.

"He's big, probably a sparked factory mech," speculated Prowl. "What was his current job?"

"Technician," answered Backbeat. "He was responsible for repairing the energon converters in Iacon."

Not exactly a difficult job, but not too bad as well. It was normal. Everything about the mech screamed normal, so why was he lying dead in an alley? Prowl stood. "Do we already have information about his production line?"

It wasn't that easy to find out where a frame came from. Often the owners changed the colours, the armour, the sensory equipment, until they were barely recognisable. Prowl had stayed with the original black and white colours. They were simple, serious and very non-descript. He liked being able to vanish in a crowd.

"We have people searching for it, but I'm not expecting much from that side of the investigation." Backbeat frowned. "But the murderer knew where to hit to make his deactivation as fast as possible."

"And as painless." Which was another point towards unusual. "Are there any hints why a Decepticon assassin could have wanted him dead?"

Backbeat winced. "That's kind of the reason why I called you... sir."

The 'sir' made Prowl frown. Technically it was the correct way to address a superior, but Backbeat and he had forgone this little detail a long while ago. "Yes?"

"There is a witness," said Backbeat and looked Prowl straight into the optic. "And we have reason to think that the murderer is an Autobot."

The utter surprise on Prowl's face had to be plain, because the Enforcer sighed. "So, it wasn't an ordered execution?"

Prowl looked at the corpse. "No, not to my knowledge." And as SIC he would know about it. Even in these times of a peace agreement, he would have been informed. But an Autobot? Worrying.

Backbeat seemed, if possible, even more unhappy with the situation. He shifted on his pedes and said: "He gave us a description, even constructed a picture of what he saw of the murderer."

"Helpful," answered Prowl. "Are there any distinctive features, something for which I can search the databases for?"

"A few things." The mech hesitated, than he gave a datapad to the SIC. "There are some mechs who fit, but... there is one who has the skills and is quite famous."

Prowl froze as he saw the picture.

"Of course, we're sure that he can't have done this..." said Backbeat nervously, not daring to look at Prowl. "I mean, he could have, but he's an Autobot officer and we wouldn't just blame him with only a single witness report... He wouldn't do this without orders anyway, right?"

Prowl still stared at the picture of his friend and secret spark mate, Jazz. Elegant silver frame, white visor, the skill set. It fit well. Too well. But it couldn't be. He shuttered his optics and vented, then looked again.

"No, it wasn't him," Prowl said calmly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. He was with me last night."

And Prowl's gaze challenged Backbeat to say anything against it, but nothing came. Instead the Enforcer relaxed. "Oh, that's a true relief, Prowl. Really. We don't need a polical scandal on top of this."

The tactician nodded and gave back the picture. "I can understand the stress your unit is under to find the murderer. But I assure you, it wasn't Jazz."

"Well, there are still three candidates left, right? Not to mention the Decepticons."

"Right." Wings high on his back, Prowl looked to the corpse of Tumbler. "Don't worry. Together we'll find the real criminal."

For a moment, Prowl hesitated opening the doors to his own quarters. There was a possibility that Jazz was in there... He resolutely entered the code, verified it and entered. He quite liked his quarters in Iacon. It was in one of the new buildings and nothing hinted that this was where the SIC of the army lived. It was just as plain as every other apartment on the floor and in the whole complex. Of course, he might have raised the security to unheard of standards and had the underground entrance made secure so he could come and go without being seen, but besides that... he was a normal tenant with the designation 'Drifter'. Which had been Jazz's idea of a joke; after all it had more or less the same meaning as 'Prowler'. Fortunately, everyone but Jazz had believed him when he had threatened the next bot who called him by that nickname with a ten vorn mission in Darkmount as Megatron's washrack cleaner.

"Jazz?" he asked and looked around. No answer, the apartment appeared empty. Jazz had once mentioned that this was always the case with how impersonal Prowl has kept his home. But the tactician couldn't help himself, he was a bot that naturally kept few personal things and of those few most had been destroyed in the long war.

"Jazz, I need to speak with you."

Still no answer. But this time Prowl hadn't expected anything else and went to wash himself. Then he heated his second energon cube of the day and sat on his couch and waited while reading a nice novel. He didn't need to wait long. His apartment door opened and a silver bot with an attractive white visor entered with a smile.

"Prowler! How nice of ya to invite me in!"

Prowl put his datapad aside. "You've bugged my home."

With a grin, Jazz let himself fall on the couch next to Prowl. "Aw, come on, ain't like ya expected anything different."

Prowl tried to look disapproving, but the saboteur didn't even act as if he had done anything wrong.

"Ya're cute when ya try to be a good bot." Jazz smiled and kissed him. "Too bad, Ah know you better."

For a moment he kissed back, than he stopped and looked into his friend's optics. "I don't try, I am a good mech. You're just corrupting me."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"A little bit o'corruption looks beautiful on ya." Jazz kissed him again. "Now, Prowler. Ya said ya need to talk with me?"

And all of sudden any playfulness vanished from the Praxian and he nodded seriously. "The Enforcers have found the shell of a deactivated mech. There was a witness."

Jazz didn't move, nothing betrayed what he thought. "And? Who was da murderer?"

"We don't know, but the witness gave a description. A description that fit you very well."

Now Jazz's visor flashed up. "Me? Do ya have a picture or something?"

"Yes. I downloaded it." Prowl created a hologram image between them. "That's you. Right?"

"Well... in any case, it looks like me." The saboteur turned the image. "Any other information?"

Prowl gave him the most important data: the time of murder, location, how the damage had looked, closing with, "There are three other Autobots in Iacon which fit the description. They're now being investigated and questioned."

"Are they?" Jazz leaned back on the couch, obviously very unhappy. "And when is ma turn?"

"Never." Prowl looked away and sighed. "I vouched for you."

Now, Jazz bolted upright in the first show of true emotion since the discussion had begun. "What!"

"I claimed we were together during the time of murder."

"But -"

"You were with me in the evening," said Prowl, slightly defensive.

"But Ah left." Jazz hesitated, and then put a hand on Prowl's wings. "Ya lied, ma friend."

"Yes."

"Ya lied without even knowing if Ah'm the murderer or not..." Jazz laughed, but it was more a sob than a sound of happiness. "Ya know that Ah've murdered Autobots without orders before. Ya know!"

"Yes." Prowl's doorwings dropped a bit lower with every word.

"And still..."

"Yes." He looked at his friend, his sparkmate, and in quiet, dark orns his everything. "What else could I have done, Jazz? No alibi, your description, the skill set... a skill set that maybe thirty mechs on the whole planet possess..."

"Prowl..." The sadness made the single name into a heavy whisper.

"I couldn't let you go into prison or worse. And before you say it, I don't care if you're the murderer or not. We'll search for him regardless. And..." Prowl vented deeply. "And I trust you, Jazz. I trust you that if you've deactivated an Autobot in a dark alley that you had your reasons. Good reasons."

For a moment it was silent in the small apartment, then Jazz hugged Prowl like a lifeline in a dark world. The Praxian put his arm around the smaller, trembling mech, whose engine seemed more and more out of sync.

"Jazz... are you crying?"

"No." But the shaking voice proved him a liar. "Ah don't deserve ya."

"Yes, you do." It was the other way around. What had Prowl done to deserve a mech that could charm a smile on his lips in the darkest of times?

Jazz didn't answer and for once just let himself be held. Time ran past them, outside, far away, the Enforcers were searching for a murderer, but here, now, the world was alright.

"Prowl?" Jazz finally said and looked into the peaceful face of his sparkmate. The one who had just put his job and life on the line, just to protect him from the off-chance that he might be a murderer. "There is something that Ah've wanted to ask ya for a long time..."

The deca-orn meeting of the Autobots was a boring and technical affair since the peace agreement. Most parts of the society within Autobot territory had gone back to civilian rule with voted politicians and bureaucracy. The Autobot army regulated itself and kept a rarely changing schedule of vigilance and training for the joor when the war would begin again. But until that orn, the meeting of the high command was anything but eventful and used by not a few officers to get another round of recharge or to find ever more creative excuses why they couldn't attend. To the surprise of many, the winner so far in this particular round of competition was Perceptor, when he claimed not being able to abandon an experiment with lullabies in the Sonic Canyon for fear of waking up Primus...

This time was no different. Around half the officers had lacked the energy or the creativity to come up with half-believable excuses and were now sitting in their chairs half in recharge, playing, or talking. Optimus, who had just completed his summary of the Council's actions and decrees of the deca-orn, walked towards Prowl and Jazz with the particular pinched expression that always meant that he was stressed or angry.

"I can understand that they're bored," he said and let himself fall into the seat next to Prowl. "But couldn't they at least have some courtesy?"

"Obviously not." Prowl took his datapad into his hand and stood up. Now, it was his turn to update the Autobot High Command on the happenings within Security, Supply, and Maintenance.

"Well, ya have to admit it, Prime, this isn't exactly high-class entertainment," said Jazz with a shrug. "But cheer up, Prowl's report will wake them up."

Optimus looked towards the Praxian that now walked to the middle of the room. "Prowl's report? Are you sure? Normally his reports are a bit..."

"Boring? Dry? Full of irrelevant data? A test of Primus to stay awake during them?"

Prime chuckled quietly. "All of that?"

"Ah, well, Prowl doesn't mean it, ya know?" Jazz looked towards Prowl who had begun and so far hadn't mentioned anything worth remembering. "He just gets a bit excited if he discovers new data and possibilities."

"I know." Optimus smiled and relaxed. "But we should stop talking, or we give a bad example."

Jazz turned around and looked at the other officers. "Hate to disappoint ya, Op, but there is no one left awake."

"What?" Optimus turned and indeed, most Autobots were simply staring at nothing. "I hope you're right and Prowl will somehow be able to wake them up soon. Did you manipulate his report?"

"Ah? Never... It's shocking what ya expect of ya own Third in Command..."

The Prime snorted. "I know exactly what to expect of you."

After that, they fell quiet and listened to Prowl who described the energon distribution system in the shopping district in very, very great detail and seemed not to be able to get enough of the fact that some shops were now selling energon without a license and what 'great' repercussions this could mean for the official energon vendors. As warning he put in the rising cases of bad energon, which were probably caused through irresponsible diluting of energon with disallowed substances.

Then, he switched to Security and without any softening or warning put the image of the murdered bot across the whole wall of the Senate room behind him. It was now easily as high as three Primes on top of each other and every horrible detail was big enough to not be able to ignore it. The empty spark chamber, smeared with dirty energon, was directly above Prowl.

For a moment, every discussion in the room ended abruptly as every Autobot stared at the gruesome image, then they started again, louder and much more agitated.

"I admit, that would wake most..." murmured Prime. To his surprise, Jazz didn't answer, but watched Prowl with an uncommonly serious expression.

"Quiet!" Prowl pointed at the image. "This is Tumbler, he was murdered last orn by a professional assassin. There was a witness who claimed that the murderer is an Autobot."

The outcry in the Hall was remarkable. Quite a few officers screamed 'never'.

"Please," Prowl frowned. "Even more worrying is that the witness gave a description that you should recognise..." Suddenly the image was replaced with – Jazz. This time, the Hall was deadly silent. Every single Autobot was instead looking at the real Jazz, sitting quietly next to Prime himself. "Fortunately for us, Jazz has an alibi, given by me. Still, we need to be on guard. A mech with unknown intentions could use his similar look to our TIC to get entry and trust from various Autobots. For this reason, please alert the Enforcers or myself if you see a mech that looks similar or the same as Jazz and shows suspicious behaviour."

"And what if it's Jazz?!" screamed a bot from somewhere.

"We're still investigating," answered Prowl. "Jazz himself has declared himself willing to report his own location constantly to Teletraan. So, you can check in and verify if it's really Jazz in front of you or not." Again, the Hall was completely silent. "Any questions?"

It was Prime who asked: "Are there any other leads on this case, Prowl?"

"A few," admitted the tactician. "The production line wasn't a common one and the weapon, too, isn't easy to get. Also, we're still analysing the data from the street cameras, but... our assailant is probably a very skilled hacker as well, because so far we couldn't get any images from them."

A few other questions followed, but none were of substance. Prime turned to the quiet saboteur next to him. "You knew," he said.

"Sure, Ah did, Prime." Jazz leaned back. "Prowl came back from the crime scene and told ma then."

Prime nodded. "I see... do you think this is a Decepticon?"

"Could be," Jazz sighed. "But what Prowl didn't say is that we fear that it's a mechformer. That would be a catastrophe."

Optimus' optics flashed up in surprise. "A mechformer? Someone who can turn into other mechs? I thought they were a legend."

"Nope, they're not," Jazz shrugged. "They're just rare, because they have such a high energy requirement. Met one once in Helex. Nice guy, but a bit... scatter-brained."

"I see..." Optimus looked to Prowl who went on with his long, long report. "So, what are you doing now?"

Jazz smiled grimly. "Our best to find that guy and to put him into a nice and cushy cell. Forever."

But that was easier said then done after every single investigation led into a blind end. It was as if the murderer had appeared in that alley, killed Tumbler and than vanished. Four orns went past without any hint, then, six orns after Tumbler had been found, Prowl got another call from Backbeat.

"Sir? We have found another empty shell. Same kind of wound as with the first one. Would you please come?"

He came. This corpse had been found under a bridge and was already two orns old. No witness, no nothing, but same modus operandi. A deep wound in the chest, a cut main energon line, a gutted and empty spark chamber.

It was with a dark foreboding feeling that Prowl walked around the victim, searching for new details.

"This was Hosepipe," said Backbeat who watched the SIC a few metres away. "He had a small shop for gloss paint and such things. No political interest, but if pushed, he had always supported the Autobots. No enemies, no debts, no nothing so far." The Enforcer looked up from his datapad. "Frankly, Prowl, there is no reason why a mech would simply decide to murder him."

"At least no reason we see," said Prowl. "What about secrets? Could there be any?"

"Maybe, but if there are, we haven't found them yet..." A helpless shrug.

"Could a lover give us more information, maybe?"

Backbeat's face fell. "He was bonded," he said quietly. "Very happily at that."

Bonded. Prowl looked at the motionless grey and dead frame at his pedes. That made this murder a double-murder. His spark, if possible, got even heavier. "I'll arrange the melting. They deserve at least that much."

Boding was a rare thing in their society, even though every bot could theoretically do it. But to bond, to open up your very self with your deepest secrets and darkest emotions wasn't something easily done. Especially, because nothing could reverse that act of joining one's spark forever. There was no possible way to break it, when one discovered that the other mech wasn't who you had thought or had changed during their long lives that spanned millenia. There wasn't a blocking it, to be alone for a moment, to not feel the other for even an astrosecond. It simply was and even death treated two bonded mechs as one being and claimed both, when one left the real word. As a result bonded pairs were treated with respect and envy, because while everyone wished for such a bond, few found another mech who they really loved enough. Loved with such selfless abandon to decide that life wasn't worth anything without the other, and to trade the very parts of their spark...

"That's a good idea..." Backbeat looked at his victim and then and the SIC of the Autobot army. "Prowl, you know that I really don't want to ask, but the guys are demanding permission to investigate Jazz as well. Now that every other lead is dead and we have another two victims... Jazz would look guilty if we don't."

"I understand. You have my permission." Prowl shuttered his optics. "We have no new leads?"

Backbeat hesitated. "Not really. The medics that were here earlier said that the wound was made with the same kind of weapon, but that the amount of energy was different this time, higher."

Prowl frowned. "That means nothing."

And they both knew it. There were hundreds of possible reasons why the energy was higher. From the possibility that the murderer simply hadn't cared to the reasonable fact that maybe the armour had looked heavier in the dark and the murderer wanted to be sure.

"Prowl..." Backbeat had put the datapad away and stepped next to him. He hated that he had to do this to a bot he respected professionally and as a friend. But it was necessary. They had a murderer to catch. "I need to question you about Jazz. It's said that you two are friends and as his superior..."

Prowl's doorwings dropped for a moment, then he got himself under control. "Sure. Lead the way, Backbeat."

Backbeat took them to a small café that he had discovered a long time ago and since then regularly visited. It was one of the few places, where he hadn't heard any complaint about bad or diluted energon from yet. He wished this would be just a visit with a friend, but it wasn't and so, after they sat down and had an energon cube, he asked, "You and Jazz, you don't just work professionally together, but you're friends as well, right?"

"Yes." Prowl took a small sip.

"Good friends?"

For a moment, the SIC hesitated, then he answered, "The best."

Backbeat was surprised for a moment. There was a world of emotions behind that answer, he could feel it. Prowl wouldn't say 'the best', if he weren't completely and unshakeably sure that Jazz saw it the same way. Interesting.

"How did you get to know each other?" Maybe not a question needed, but it gave him an opening to put their friendship in perspective.

"We met at the beginning of the war in Tarn." Prowl smiled softly. "Tarn was really far removed from any influence of the Senate, but to keep up the image they had to accept the annual visits of the Senate's representatives. I was a young bot among this group, just a secretary, nothing more. Jazz, on the other hand, was still a musician." And smuggler, added the tactician in his own thoughts quietly. "We met at a concert the ruler of Tarn gave in honour of the representatives."

"Then you really knew each other for a long time." A lot longer than Backbeat had guessed. "As his superior and best friend, you probably know his capabilities the best. Does he have the skills to deactivate a bot like that? To hack the cameras and erase every image of himself?"

"Yes."

Short and to the point. It was one of the things Backbeat liked about Prowl. Still, while the answer was expected, it still gave him a cold shudder. "Is he mentally able to...?"

"Yes." Prowl took another sip. "And before you ask, yes he has already done it in the war. It was his job." And if there was sorrow in Prowl's voice, Backbeat didn't comment on it.

"Only with orders?"

"No," admitted the SIC slowly. "But as a TIC he's able and allowed to decide in dire circumstances for himself. In every situation when this was the case, I would have done the same."

It was a big vote of trust to say such a thing now, in this situation. As he looked at the stoic SIC, who nearly didn't show how much that discussion hurt him, he wondered how many mechs had lost their life to one of their servos... He buried that thought fast, knowing that war meant different rules and said, "Prowl, you said at the time of the first murder that Jazz was with you. Do you still say that?"

"Of course." No hesitation.

"And during the time of this murder?"

Prowl sighed and looked towards the street, towards everywhere but the face of the Enforcer. "He wasn't with me. As far as I know, he was alone in his apartment."

No alibi. "As far as you know? You mean the location ping with Teletraan, right?" The Enforcer had been informed of that new security measure as well, of course. They had been satisfied, then.

Prowl nodded, and Backbeat looked at the data he had collected so far. He didn't like what he saw. "You admitted that Jazz has the knowledge to hack the cameras on the street. Is he able to hack Teletraan?"

No answer for a long moment. Then Prowl's wings flicked and dropped, as if they couldn't decide what to do. Finally, the Praxian looked at him, and Backbeat couldn't say what that strange emotion in Prowl's optics were.

"He wouldn't need to, Backbeat. He's the TIC of the Autobot army, he has unrestricted access to everything."

It was a damning picture that created itself in front of Backbeat's optics. The only thing that spoke against the theory that Jazz was the murderer was his alibi. And of course his good reputation. But a good Enforcer has never stopped for reputation or credits.

"Prowl, do you think Jazz deactivated Hosepipe and his bonded?"

"No." Prowl looked at the still nearly full cube in his hand. "I know that he didn't." He stood. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Eh, no." Backbeat hastily stood as well. "Thank you for taking the time to answer them. I'm sure you have much to do." He hesitated for a moment, then he laid his hand on Prowl's upper arm. "Don't worry, if Jazz is innocent I'll do my best to prove it."

Prowl didn't react at first, then a soft, nearly shy smile crossed his face. It showed a vulnerability that stole Backbeat's breath away. "Thank you."

Jazz's orn had been a quiet one, mostly used for reading the long and tedious reports of his various agents around Cybertron. Despite his big intelligence network, it was an eternal mystery to him why most Autobots thought he didn't do paperwork. They knew what job he did and that the job was mainly about information, right? And information meant paperwork, datapads and huge amounts of used storage space. Not to mention analysis and evaluation. So why did they think he only went on parties or, worse, did nothing?

Jazz didn't understand it, but on this orn he wished the stories were true. The office was too silent, and too many reports mentioned the fallout of the murder and Jazz's need for an alibi. He couldn't imagine how this all would look if Prowl hadn't spontaneously decided to throw his rulebook out of the window and to lie.

The thought of Prowl though made his spark happier, and he decided that he should do something for the Praxian. Maybe get a ticket to a concert? Or take him to one of those classy and high-priced restaurants?

He was already storing away the last report and ending the statistical programs when he got a ping on the communication network.

"Jazz here," he answered. "What can Ah do for ya, Prime?"

"Please come to my office immediately, Jazz."

The saboteur frowned. Despite the 'please' this was very clearly an order. Something must have happened. He could say goodbye to his plans for a nice evening with Prowl.

"I'm coming," he answered and cut the commline.

Prime's office wasn't far away. He went down the hallway, grabbing a small cube at the energon dispenser on the way and went into the office without knocking. Prime was waiting for him, so why waste time on knocking, right?

As the door closed behind him automatically, he realised with surprise that Prime was far from alone and that the three bots with him weren't from the Autobot High Command, or even soldiers.

Optimus Prime stood next to his desk and gestured him nearer.

"Gentlemechs, may I introduce you to Jazz. As you know, he serves as my Third in Command and is Head of the Intelligence Service." Prime was polite, very polite, and that made Jazz tense. Optimus was never this polite, if he was comfortable. "Jazz, these are the Enforcers of Iacon and the lead investigators of the homicides -"

"Homicides?" interrupted Jazz. "As in more than one?"

"Yes," said a dark green Enforcer darkly. "This morning, another bot was found deactivated and shortly after, his bonded was found to be perished as well."

"Oh." Jazz felt a sharp wave of dread closing in around his spark.

"The weapon and style of the murder hint that the assailant is the same person as the one who murdered Tumbler." The Enforcer eyed Jazz with a certain wariness. "And because you are the only bot who fits the description of the witness and who has the needed skill set..."

"Ah understand." And he did, really. But normally he was the hunter and not the prey. "But don't ya need permission for that?"

"We have it," said another Enforcer. "Prowl gave it initially and Optimus Prime confirmed it a few breems ago."

"Prowl..." murmured Jazz surprised, before he caught himself. Prowl wouldn't betray him or sacrifice him for peace. Every other bot, maybe even Prime, but not Prowl. Never Prowl. So, if Prowl did give them the permission to treat Jazz like a suspect anyway, then he had very good reasons for it. Jazz felt his processor heat up as he thought about the possible reasons and found more than he liked. They all had one thing in common: Things were not going well for Jazz.

And even worse, if they thought him the murderer, they would probably see through Prowl's lie as well. This, he couldn't let happen. It was time to suit up, to get into the game and to win it.

With an easy smile, he emptied the energon cube and nodded towards the Enforcers. "Well, mechs, if ya have da permission, Ah'm going to help ya were Ah can. What do ya want to know?"

For a moment the Enforcers seemed stunned by his cooperativeness, but they caught on fast.

One of the officers nodded towards the door. "If we're informed correctly, your shift has just ended. Would you please follow us to our headquarters?"

"Sure." He turned to Prime, who couldn't hide his worried state any longer. "Until tomorrow, OP."

"Yes, until then, Jazz." He sighed. "I'm sure this misconception will clear itself soon."

"... Ah hope so."

He walked out of the office and through the whole Autobot main building surrounded by the Enforcers, watched avidly by hundreds of optics. It was a humiliating walk, but he held his head high and none of the onlookers were able to tell his real thoughts.

After he had heard that Jazz had been called in for an interrogation, Prowl ended his shift and drove towards the headquarters. There he sat down in the waiting area and waited, together with the bond-mates and children of other minor criminals. It was a small and depressing room, with chairs that definitely weren't made for frames with wings or sensitive back struts or any being that was forced to sit on them for longer than a single breem. Prowl made a notice to arrange new seats for the police headquarters soon. They really didn't need to torture innocent citizens needlessly.

None of these things distracted him from the deep worry he felt. Around him, families came and went, few recognising him thanks to his normal policy to remain in the background, and time passed. Much more time than he had anticipated and slowly the room emptied until he was alone.

"Heya, Prowl," said Jazz softly, when he finally walked through that thrice damned door that Prowl had kept on staring down. "Did ya wait long?"

He stood and smiled, feeling a rush of relief. "Not too long. How did it go?"

Jazz sighed. "Not well. They wanted an alibi, but at the time of da murder Ah was home and listening to music alone."

"What about the location ping and the street cameras?"

"They said Ah could hack and manipulate both," said Jazz angrily. "And da worst? They're right. Ah could. Pit, Ah did in da past. It ain't too difficult, not with ma security clearance."

Prowl nodded, having the same clearance, he knew only too well how open and vulnerable some systems were to them. He had often wondered before if most bots even understood just how much power lay in a few security codes and trust. He was almost sure they didn't or Jazz and he wouldn't have the jobs they did. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, they asked about what weapons Ah've access to. Asked about a bunch of them, some worse, some better, some plain forbidden," he sounded bitter. "In reality, they just wanted to know about energy daggers! Which, of course, are as difficult to get for me as energon cubes, because Ah've unlimited access to every weapon vault of the whole slagging army. Ah knew it, they knew it, and still they kept asking."

For a moment, Prowl just stood there, shifting on his pedes, unsure how to comfort Jazz, then he stepped forward and hugged him. Forget possible cameras, forget that maybe somebot can come in, Jazz needed him now. "They're just doing their job."

"Ah know, Prowler. Still, it's frustrating."

Prowl squeezed and let go. "You're trained against torture, Primus, you've trained nearly half the Autobot army against interrogation. This is nothing for you."

The saboteur had to grin at that. "Of course it is. Ah could give them some pointers."

Which the Enforcers would accept with as much grace and thankfulness as the last Senate had accepted the Decepticons' demands of unconditional surrender. Prowl's wings twitched, amused, as he said, "Maybe after this whole mess. I'm sure they would... profit."

"Anything for ya." Jazz looked around in the empty room and grimaced. "Let's just go, yeah? Ah've been in this building far too long and Ah had hoped for a few nice joors with ya before this. "

That... sounded like an incredibly good idea. "Agreed," said the Praxian. He opened the door and both stepped outside.

And froze. Before them were reporters, all of them eager, all of them now screaming their questions. Flashes were a clear sign of many photos being taken.

Jazz didn't take offence as Prowl nearly stumbled back. This was a nightmare situation for the Praxian, and if Jazz was being truthful, for him as well. If all of these photos made it into the news channel, any kind of privacy was lost. But there was no way to stop it now. Already, some reporters were uploading the photos.

"Ah guess we should've expected them," he said slowly. And here Jazz had thought this orn couldn't get worse. "Please, gentlemechs," he finally yelled. "One question at a time!"

The questions came and came. They answered no personal questions out of principle, as well as no questions about their work, so the reporters were visibly disappointed to be confined to questions about the homicides. But the delight they felt to ask things like "Prowl, do you believe Jazz to be the murderer?" was great anyway.

After they had fought their way through the crowd and escaped on the highway, Prowl contacted Jazz via the comm system.

"This will be all over Cybertron over in less than two joors," he said darkly. "Even the Decepticons will show this."

"Especially da 'Cons," answered Jazz and without one drop of his usual cheerfulness in his voice. "And once da public is interested, we've got a whole different game here. Some might not care who the murderer is, to get ma behind bars."

"And to keep the public quiet."

"Yes, that as well." For a long moment they drove next to each other, then the saboteur asked quietly: "Whatever happens, ya'll be by ma side, right?"

"Forever," was the solemn anwer.

In the morning, when they both drove to work again, mechs talked behind their backs and pointed towards them. It was the most interesting story of the vorn and every mech believed to know more than the next one. A few even claimed to be the eyewitness and the end of the orn rumours and facts weren't so easy to discern any more.