"Jazz, get in here."

An average height mech slunks in. "Yes boss?" he asks, unremarkable eyes fixing on his boss.

"I have a job for you."

The smile sliding over Jazz's face causes the other to shiver. "The Iacon issue?"

"Yes. The killings started again, and the enforcers lost another pair of detectives."

Clawed hands reached over for the thin file. "Is that all?"

"You leave at once."

Jazz hops off the transport vehicle and stands in the streets of Primling Grove. He notes the deserted feeling of the family-friendly neighborhood before strolling toward the park. Best start at the beginning.

Obviously, the park had seen better days. Jazz drags a finger over an oxidizing bench. Of course, some cleaning had to have gone on at some point, or the shed in the far corner would still be stained with gore. That is where it started, though bodies had been found all over now. But I won't find much of anything useful here.

Jazz isn't the enforcers' biggest fan, doubly so when it comes to serial-mass murders. But a bot's got to do what a bot's got to do.

"Well, here are copies of the original reports." The records clerk slides a stack of tablets under the clear plastic barrier between him and Jazz.

The less than remarkable mech scoops them up and dumps them in a hip compartment. "Do the authors' still work here?" The outsider inquiries.

The young, underpaid employee shrugs. "Some of them. Flashback retired and I think Tumbler's on medical leave. Ruger got herself bonded and moved. Nightbeat got himself murdered. Ambulon's still around."

"Thanks."

After skimming the reports, Jazz heads toward the medical examiner's office. But Ambulon wasn't in. Jazz's thin lips tilt down in a frown. He'd checked the roster and that mech was supposed to be in. Civilians: so unreliable.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Jazz turns to face the black and white mech walking up the hallway. For a moment-just a moment-he thinks it's an officer, but no, he quickly sees spies the apprentice patch magnetized on the young bot's sternum. Not someone to worry about.

"I'm here to speak to ME Ambulon." Jazz uses his least memorable voice.

"He had to step out." The apprentice halts before Jazz, just out of arm's reach.

"I'd guessed that." This kid might be smarter than he looks.

The mech spread his sensory wings. "You can wait for him upstairs. We're really busy down here right now."

Jazz smiles. He tries to make it friendly, he really does. "Ah, I'd heard the Primling Reaper was back."

The taller bot narrows his eyes. "Sir, who are you?"

Jazz sticks out a hand, claws retracted of course. "I'm Rhythmic: serial criminologist. Captain Chace asked me to consult. " The half-truth slides out with ease. "And you are?"

"Uh…" The kid was surprised. "Sorry, sir. I'm Cadet Prowl."

Jazz pauses for half a moment, flashing through the important character files. "Ah!" He assumes the air of the over-enthusiastic criminologist smoothly. "You're Prowl! I'd heard that mechling wanted to work with the enforcers." Jazz steps forward. "Once this whole thing is taken care of, I'd love to interview you about what it's like growing up knowing the monster that killed your brothers is still out there."

Prowl looks away, wings flicking. "I have to get back to work." The apprentice disappears through a steel door.

Jazz shrugs. His boss would reprimand him if she ever finds out he'd done that to one of the only children who survived growing up in Primling Grove. Oh well. If Ambulon's not around, I'm wasting my time here.

"Hey, you!"

Jazz keeps walking. It's a busy street, that shout could be for anyone.

"Hey Rhythmic!"

Not good. Jazz glances over his shoulder but can't see who the call came from. He ducks into a side walkway. I'll have to take care of this.

To Jazz's mild surprise, the young mech he'd bumped into earlier steps in after him. "Hey, Prowl." He smiles his thin smile.

"Hello . . . Jazz." The younger mech spits.

Jazz blinks. Well, this is unsuspected. This kid really is smarter than he looks. "Ah." His claws slide out slightly. "You should know I never expected such detective work from someone so young."

Prowl steps back, eyes flicking down to the short claws.

Jazz grins. "I'm not looking for collateral damages kid. I'm here to handle what your enforcer buddies haven't" The boss really would have words for me if I reunited this bot with his brothers.

Prowl visibly swallows. "I know. I want to help."

Jazz raises an optic ridge skeptically but doesn't interrupt.

"Everyone thinks I'm too young-or sensitive-to be involved with catching him." Prowl straightens to his full height. "I found a lot out on my own."

"Such as what?"

Prowl pulls a data slug out of subspace. "I know that twenty years ago the Cybertronian United Forces sent a special operations unit to take down a mech suspected of selling Cybertronian parts to alien buyers."

That's not public knowledge.

"I know that the mech in charge of the raid reported finding three younglings among the harvested parts, two of them still alive."

Jazz blinks, throwing up his best neutral face as the memories of that day flashed by. The younglings were so starved their sparks had started catabolizing their chest platings.

"I know that one of the younglings who survived had mnemo technology totally integrated with his systems."

Jazz swallows. That was the one holding the dead one. He'd fought when Mirage tried taking the empty husk away.

Prowl offers the data slug over. "I know that youngling disappeared from a CUF base without any soldiers remembering it."

Jazz takes it. He'd been horrified after finding the puncture wounds on his neck.

"I know the other youngling ran the first chance he got and that CUF suspects he came to Iacon."

The boss needs to know about this kid.

"I am pretty sure that youngling is Ambulon." Prowl looks into Jazz's unsettled eyes. "I know he's best friends with Tumbler, the department's mnemosurgeon."

Jazz tucks the slug into a compartment. "You're smarter than anyone's given you credit for."

"And that's just the start"

Jazz retracts his claws. "Well then partner, we've got a monster to dispatch." He offers his hand.

Prowl takes it. "Ambulon usually head over to Tumbler's apartment when he leaves early."

"Let's go then."