This is for the lj comm prowlxjazz's Halloween challenge 2009. It was a series of prompts, which are bolded.
Darkness
Jazz stopped moving. Stilling his systems as much as possible, he waited, balanced on his peds, turning his helm very slightly to allow his sensor horns to triangulate the faint touch he'd gotten from his sensor net.
There! Grinning to himself, he silently moved toward the wall, putting himself on a course perpendicular to his quarry, making it seem that he was lost, unable to find the other player. At the crucial moment, he spun around and slapped the other on the shoulder.
"Tag!"
A cheer went up from the control room, piped into the room's speakers.
"Nice one, Jazz!"
Ghost
Jazz and Spike were heading back to the Ark. It was a dark night, and Jazz was running fast, with no headlights. A thin moon was casting a faint light, but most of the drive was in shadows and dark. Jazz's sensors were constantly receiving data. Spike was firmly buckled into the driver's seat and he had complained about Jazz's decision to drive without headlights, but now he was quiet, only his clenched fists betraying his unease.
Suddenly a form swooped out of the darkness, startling them both. Spike let loose a shriek and Jazz, in a maneuver that would impress an acrobat, flipped around and caught Spike on his way down.
"What was that?" Spike gasped, his heart beating rapidly.
"A Tyto alba," Jazz replied.
"A what?" Spike wondered.
"A common barn owl." Jazz informed him.
"I thought it was a ghost!" Spike allowed his head to rest on Jazz's armour, getting his wits back from the adrenaline high the scare had given him.
"There's no such thing as ghosts, Spike. You know that."
"Hah. It scared you, too."
"Yeah, it did."
Pumpkins
"Why are we here again?" Prowl asked Jazz.
"Well, it's the state fair, and a big deal, and the governor asked Optimus if a couple of Autobots could show up, y'know, as a public relations deal and a sign of friendship, etc." Jazz rattled off blithely, waving to the kids on the Ferris wheel as it went around.
Prowl looked at him. Jazz gave him a little grin and returned his attention to the swarm of humans around his feet. The Autobots were surrounded by a low fence, so they wouldn't accidentally step on a person, but Prowl was feeling a bit constrained. In an attempt to distract him, Jazz was pointing out many of the human traditions. There was an apple bobbing contest, pumpkin weighing, a quilt show, a canned goods display, various animals that were 4-H projects held by bright-faced children, and an antique tractor display.
Prowl finally asked, "What are those?"
Jazz looked at where Prowl was pointing and answered, "Those are dried grasses, made up by machines into rolls. They're called hay bales."
"Why is there paint on the end?" Prowl continued his question.
Jazz leaned over and looked, then grinned broadly, "They painted it to look like a jack-o-lantern! That's pretty clever!"
Prowl put a hand over his face and told Jazz, "You are explaining this to me in greater detail when we get back to the Ark, Jazz."
"Sure, Prowl, no problem."
Costumes
"Come in," Prowl answered to the knock on his door.
Smokescreen entered, a pile of datapads in his arms. He put the pile on Prowl's desk, sorting them quickly, then seated himself and looked expectantly at Prowl.
Prowl, for his part, merely folded his hands and looked solemnly at the 'bot across from him before saying, "Jazz, it's not your turn. Smokescreen!"
The hologram faded away and Jazz glared at him, "How do you do that?"
Smokescreen poked his head in the door and flinched slightly at the look Prowl gave him before moving forward to take Jazz's place.
"I'll explain later. Right now, Smokescreen and I have an assignment from Prime. Your operation is ranked lower than this one, and I'll get to it in due course."
"Sure, Prowl." Jazz left in a huff. Prowl and Smokescreen exchanged a look and got to work.
Crescent Moon
"So, explain." Jazz was curled up tight, his arms wrapped around his legs and giving off no indication that he wanted to be around Prowl. The crescent moon gave a weak light, making his visor glint and the white paint gleam softly.
Prowl laid a hand on the stiff back and told him, "I always know it's you, because no-one else's spark makes mine leap the way yours does." He removed his hand and started walking away.
Jazz processed what Prowl had said quickly, then leapt to his feet and chased after him.
"Do you mean it?" Jazz asked.
"Yes."
Orange
Prowl met them at the entrance to the Ark. For once, he didn't have a neutral expression on his face but radiated a sense of disbelief.
"Once again, tell me what happened," Prime came up behind him to look over the three Autobots making their way toward them.
"An industrial paint machine went berserk and our patrol team was close enough to render their assistance," Prowl told him, "but they got in the line of fire and this is the result."
Jazz, Huffer and Brawn transformed and made their way over to Prime and Prowl. Huffer was muttering under his breath about humans and their machines, while Brawn was telling Huffer that his new paint job was an improvement on the old.
Jazz strode up and saluted, which caused Prime to raise an optic ridge.
"Should I ask what happened?"
"I decided that I wanted to be like Mirage and become invisible, but I think it will only work inside the Ark, 'cause I'm the same color as the walls."
Which he, indeed, was, painted a bright industrial orange from helm to peds. Even his visor had a film of orange paint smear over it. Brawn was the least affected, but Huffer had been liberally sprayed with the paint and only one side of his helm had escaped, a bit of blue-violent peeking through the orange.
Prime just chuckled, motioning them into the Ark. Brawn and Huffer fell to arguing on their way to the medbay, while the officers trailed behind them.
"Jazz, the thought of you invisible in the Ark is rather terrifying." Prime told him.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Prime," Prowl told him, "I'd always be able to find Jazz."
"Indeed."
"Yes. Two bodies, one spark; I could find him in another galaxy." Prowl told him serenely.
"Damn, Prowl, you do pick yer moments to let Prime know these things." Jazz growled, "I can't even hug ya, 'cause Primus knows, I'm not getting this paint on you. Ratchet's going to have a fit as it is."
"It's alright, you'll have time later." Prowl turned down another hallway, leaving the other two to gaze after him.
"I think you'll have your hands full with him, Jazz. Good luck."
"Thanks, Prime."
Trick
Jazz stalked toward the convoy he'd been assigned to protect. He froze at the sight of his assigned partner.
Prowl sighed.
"I'm not talking to you." Jazz told him, turning his back.
The trip was silent, a coldness between the two Autobots. Jazz found it difficult to keep it up, however, when every time he was asked to help with something, the humans also called Prowl over and asked question, forcing the two mechs to interact.
By the time the convoy reached its destination, Jazz gave up and talked with Prowl. The human in charge of the convoy walked next to his truck and leaned against it.
"Must have been a doozy of a fight, Prime."
The truck replied, "It was. Thank you for your help in fixing the problem, John."
"Any time, Prime, any time."
Spider webs
Jazz crawled further back into the room, shouldering aside a broken beam.
"Are you sure it was back this far?"
"Yes," replied Hound, "I'm sure."
"Well, I'm not seeing it," Jazz said, pushing aside pieces of metal, broken wires and circuits in his quest.
"This is the worst part of the Ark, the part that took the biggest hit when we crash-landed." Hound looked up as something creaked.
Jazz froze at the same time. The bridge of the Ark was a couple of decks above them. This was the forward storage, and Hound was looking for some tools he was sure had been in this section.
Jazz moved forward again, and pushed on a section of the bulkhead, trying to move it aside. The metal groaned, shifted, moved away from the rock and Jazz jumped back as it revealed a veritable curtain of spider webs, new and old intermingled, clinging to the rock face. The movement of the bulkhead had torn a hole and there were spiders swarming everywhere.
Jazz looked at Hound, who shrugged and said, "I guess we're done with that section."
Jazz laughed at him and clapping him on the shoulder, steered him to another section of the compartment to continue the search.
Fog
Prowl moved slowly through the fog. Weather conditions were perfect for a thick, inpenetrable fog, the kind that had the local authorities warning everyone to stay where they were if possible. However, a child had gone missing, and the police had asked for the assistance of the Autobots. Optimus Prime had assembled a team and sent them out to help.
Most of the Autobots were having no trouble navigating even with the fog, since they could use different bands of the spectrum, in addition to sonar and positioning technology. However, Prowl had taken a hit earlier in the week, battling the Decepticons, and he was effectively blind. He had a map in his CPU and was being used as the base for the search, keeping track of where everyone had looked and their current locations, then transferring the data to the large paper map being used by the humans. He wished he could do more, but at least he could contribute this.
"Found her!" Hound's voice rang over the communication lines. "She's cold, but otherwise fine. We'll be at base in about five minutes."
"Thank you, all of you. This job would have been much harder without your help." The local fire chief's deep voice rolled over the lines.
Prowl was grateful there had been a happy outcome. He glared at the stifling fog, waiting for everyone to get back to base so they could go home.
Graveyard
A/N: This is based off something lj user kookaburra1701 told us on her journal. It was creepy and spooky and inspiring. Thanks for the idea, Kookaburra!
Jazz drove up the old dirt road on his way to the top of the hill. As part of Red Alert's sensor grid, he was assisting in mapping the blank spots surrounding the Ark. Red Alert was fussing because there was a large hole located on this otherwise featureless hilltop, and Jazz had volunteered to drive up and see why.
When he was about half-way up the hill, he ran into a fogbank. The day had been mostly clear, so Jazz was surprised at the grey cloud he suddenly had to navigate through. He slowed, driving carefully, until he reached the end of the road, breaking out of the fog at the same time. A straggly wire fence surrounded an area cleared of trees. There was a thick bed of weeds, and Jazz could see across the valley to the Ark.
He tried to reach Red Alert, but only got static on the line. He finally was able to reach Prowl on a very private channel, but the tactician sounded faint and far away, even though Jazz could clearly see him at the base of the Ark's rockets.
small"Look around, see if there's an antenna or some such thing that would cause the interference."/small
Jazz acknowledged and looked, using all his sensors. There was interference on many of his tools, and a sense that he was being watched. He finally noticed the crude wooden markers and took scans of them, trying to access Teletraan and failing before sending the images to Prowl.
When Prowl answered after a few moments, Jazz straightened at the note in his beloved's voice.
"Jazz? Those markers are grave markers. How many are there?"
Jazz looked around and did a rapid scan, noticing that he had interference on that channel, too.
"'Bout thirty of them." Jazz reported.
"Come on back. Be careful."
Jazz backed out of the clearing very carefully, then drove slowly down the road, the fog sending beads of cool moisture over his plating. He was grateful to get out of the fog and to the bottom of the hill. Once he rounded the edge of the hill, the interference disappeared and he was in clear communication with the Ark once again.
His report was going to fritz both Prowl and Red Alert, he just knew it.
Thirteen
A slippery slide
A crossing glide
Weapons ring
A sharp sting
Point to Jazz.
A laugh aloud
Total glee
Thrust and parry
Meet and marry
Weapons clash
A foiled dash
Point to Prowl.
Weapons training.
What? It's thirteen lines, doesn't that count?