Well, everybody who cared to review said to add more, so here's some. We'll see if the story will continue depending on the response. As for a question as to why the strip club is called such, it's because I couldn't think of another term for it (if you have one, please share it) and also, because we're pretending here that they're saying things in a way that they would in Cybertronian, as stated in the first part.

Kelly: Very carefully! ;) Haha, no, it's just the term I chose to use and it involves less armor. Yes, Pyro is short for Pyromaniac, so he'd be the opposite of Ice Blink (get it? Twins, black and white, fire and ice, etc.?).

- blah - Com. Link

Disclaimer: I do not of Transformers or any of its characters, but I do own Stryker, Ice Blink and Pyro, and anyone who you don't know.


Soundwave wandered to his quarters on the Nemesis, glad to finally be back. He had spent almost half a vorn supervising the Decepticons in charge of building their new base. Well, not so much supervising as following them around to make sure that they could hold their glossas about the secret project.

Making trips every orn to a club to be sure that they didn't tell any private information was not what Soundwave would call his "style". He had been bored stiff, considering that he disliked the kind of clubs that the base workers had favored. The music was terrible, full of loud, obnoxious base noise to draw the attention away from the pointless lyrics and atrocious singing. He also didn't enjoy the mechs and the few femmes who worked at the club "coming on" to him when he could obviously tell that they were only using him as a means for their next paycheck.

It wasn't like Soundwave was "waiting for love" or hanging onto any other pointless Autobot sentiment such as that, but if he planned on interfacing it would at least be with someone who could hold his interest for more than a nano-klik. Unfortunately for him, there were not many who could do that. Last orn, however, he'd found a mech who could.

A tall, bright green mech with a few black accents to his paintjob had been working at the club. Soundwave made it his hobby to scan over the CPUs of the club workers and patrons while he was there, both to look for potential threats and to amuse himself. His optics had landed on the green mech, who at the moment had been watching a pair of monochromatic twins dancing next to him. The twins weren't what interested him; no, it was the odd thoughts he was picking up from the green mech.

It wasn't that Soundwave couldn't hear the mech's thoughts – he could hear them very well, thanks much – but it was that the mech had an odd way of thinking. He was definitely on the defensive about something, and he was watching his surroundings warily, looking for a threat. Many mechs were cautious now, considering the war, but this mech was afraid about being caught for something. For what – well, that's what Soundwave had wanted to know. The mech's processors were moving quickly, constantly taking in his surroundings while pondering other thoughts in the back. Those thoughts were what Soundwave wanted to hear the most. Focusing, he picked up on one of them.

It was something about the base workers drinking a lot of high grade, and then: All the better for us.

Soundwave had been a little perplexed. Better? Better why? Was it because overcharged mechs would waste more credits on them? Or was it for other reasons?

He caught the tail end of a passing thought about getting information and decided that the green mech was definitely a priority and a possible threat to security. For that reason, he decided to call him over. He instructed a random worker to tell the mech for him, as it wasn't becoming or following decorum for an officer to have to attract a worker's attention themselves. The green mech was watching his companions depart when the other told him of Soundwave's request. That was when things got interesting.

Soundwave?! Soundwave, the Decepticon third in command and Communications Officer is here?! He's asking for me?! What's he even doing here? Everyone says that he didn't do things like go to strip clubs asking for lap dances. Why the Pit is he here, then?!

...Wait, isn't Soundwave telepathic? Holy Primus, think of something stupid!

The entire thing was befuddling to the telepath. It was also very, very suspicious. This one was most definitely up to something. Soundwave watched him walk over. The green mech looked confidant and cool, but his mind was reeling and nervous, though he put on a good show, giving the Decepticon a decidedly promiscuous grin to hide how upset he was at the entire prospect of what he was about to do. The level of fear the green mech felt was almost enough for Soundwave to stop him then and there and give up the act that they were both putting on. A stray thought from the green mech about not knowing what to do because he'd never been with someone like that before made him want to tell the poor mech that he didn't have to do this, but there was a strong feeling of determination coming from the tall mech, the kind of determination that could not be dissuaded. With that determination clear in his processors, the green mech began to move his hips.

Well, Soundwave thought to himself candidly. He's awfully good at this for not having ever been with another before.

A fact that most did not know: Soundwave did not think in monotone, nor did he always speak in it. Around his sparklings, for example, he allowed himself a certain amount of emotion and intonation to show his affection and trust. To his comrades, though, he always spoke in a monotone, to show his dedication to his post and his professionalism, and because he didn't want to allow his emotions to cloud his judgment. Just because he wasn't vocal about his emotions didn't mean that they didn't exist.

If he wasn't in such a public place, Soundwave would have laughed at the very loud thoughts his companion was projecting. Many mechs didn't realize it, but when they tried to think thoughts to cover up their true intent, they were more often than not "louder" and easier for a telepath the pick up, due to the mech's need for the telepath to believe their cover-thoughts. It made cover-thoughts very easy to detect, but he had yet to find cover-thoughts as amusing as the ones of the young mech who was dancing in front of him.

First it was a comment about tipping and the amount of credits that Soundwave was paid, and then a remark about drinking energon with a mouth guard on that he was sure was intended to be airheaded as to convince the Decepticon officer of his innocence and lack of suspicious activity. Next came a thought on how long his dance was for and a suggestion that the admission prices should be raised, followed by an exclamation about how much the mech liked the current song, which was some loud club tune, a version of a well known song with an added base, so distorted that it was impossible to tell the music from the base. The mech's feelings on the song were quite clearly against it, so Soundwave found it amusing that he would send out a thought about how he liked it. The again, Soundwave found the entire situation to be amusing. There was one thing that he wanted to know: what was this mech's designation?

The green mech was trailing black servos down the 'Con's chassis (which he would admit wasn't a sensation that he was adverse to), wondering why Soundwave had asked for a dance and then ignored his presence. At that the cassette player could no longer hold his glossa, and he pointed out to the green mech that he was aware of the mech's false thoughts, and that he found the true thoughts to be more interesting. This was meant to reference that he had been listening to the mech's earlier thoughts and had found them to be suspicious, but the green mech took this the entirely wrong way.

"Are you flirting with me?" he asked, confusion painting his faceplates. What? Where had that come from? Replaying the conversation in his CPU, Soundwave soon realized that, to someone who hadn't been aware of the situation from his point of view, the comment would have been taken as a flirtatious one. Soundwave, ever unflappable, was at a loss as to what he should say. In the end he chose to ignore the question, even going so far as to tell the mech he was ignoring his question, and then asking if he disliked the Decepticons after hearing a wayward thought about "no-good slag-eating 'Cons", intending to find if this mech was perhaps some sort of rebel, or – Primus forbid – an Autobot.

The mech then became extremely uncomfortable and began to scramble for an answer, babbling all the while in a manner that Soundwave found to be oddly endearing, a sentiment which he promptly quashed. Mid-babble, things got really interesting.

Soundwave, being not only a Communications Officer but also a telepath, easily intercepted the incoming com. that had been sent to the green mech, apparently coming from the black twin Soundwave had seen earlier.

- Yo Boss, we got the info. Drunken slaggers, can't keep their mouths shut. Let's dump the credits at the bar and get the Pit outta here, huh? These dirty 'Cons got their filthy paws all over me. I want to get home and soak in some corrosive acid for an orn. Heh, even that probably won't get rid of the feeling. –

Well wasn't that interesting. "Boss", that meant that the green mech was the leader of this group, and they were obviously after some sort of information. The green mech's anti-Decepticon thoughts added to the black mech's very obvious "dirty 'Cons" statement only cemented the idea that this group was against the Decepticons; probably some Autobot contingent after their base's plans. How they found out about the base in the first place, Soundwave had no idea, but he planned to find out.

The green mech's thoughts were torn between an intense, spark-shaking fear that was almost enough to make Soundwave's own spark ache sympathetically, and a sudden fury at his apparent comrade, most likely for blowing his cover.

- Stryker, you coming? –

Soundwave watched intently as the green mech, Stryker, apparently, looked around anxiously, and then winked at the Officer, grinning saucily and moving off to the bar, being met part way by the twins. Soon after, the trio left the club together, all moving with a swift precision that had definitely been trained into them.

So Stryker was the intriguing mech's designation, hmm? Well, Soundwave planned to find out who Stryker was and what he and his friends were up to, but first, he had to go pull those cassette twins of his out of a riveting and oh-so-dangerous game of cannon tag.


Jazz clicked off the video feed and sighed, looking at the dark screen in front of him. He'd had the wonderful privilege of informing his boys that more information on the new Decepticon base was needed, which had gained him an audio full from the trio, each in a vocal manner making it very clear about their feelings towards returning to the club. After the close call with Soundwave, the danger level of the place had greatly increased in the undercover 'Bot's optics. Jazz had agreed, stating that they would most likely not need to return to the club. However, infiltration of the worksite would be helpful, but the chances of being recognized while incognito were too high to risk. They would just have to break in the old fashioned way.

The TIC slumped in his chair, releasing air from his vents. The boys infiltrating the site wouldn't be too hard, considering that they had recently received word of Soundwave being spotted back on the Nemesis, away from the work site. The problem was Soundwave himself. The telepathic Decepticon had most likely heard the designation of Jazz's second in command and knew what all three of his operatives looked like. This was Not Good with capital letters. Deciding that a cube of energon and some good conversation might help him come up with an idea of where to go next with this predicament, the saboteur stood and left his office, not caring to lock his door in his state of contemplation.

This was the perfect opportunity for a pair of red and yellow mechs who had been passing by to snoop the way that they had always wanted to. Waiting until the third in command was well away from his office and using the knowledge that Inferno had just forced Red Alert to take an energon break, the twins made a mad dash for Jazz's office, utilizing this possibly one-time chance to find out if a few rumors were true. They had bets riding on some of those rumors.

Thanking Primus that no code was needed to access the unlocked door, the twins slipped inside the office, taking in the familiar surroundings and moving on, looking for any place that a Special Operations mech would hide his information. It would be tough, but they'd pulled off other supposedly impossible tasks before.

Sideswipe began rifling through datapads, looking for something interesting while remembering the exact order and positioning of each datapad as to not alert the TIC of their presence upon his return. Sunstreaker accessed the terminal that, unbeknownst to him, Jazz had just been using, shocked that it, too, had not been locked. That was very uncharacteristic if him; he must have had something extremely serious on his CPU.

The terminal's screen lit, and a small icon appeared in the corner - a message of some sort. Sunstreaker checked the area to be sure nobody could see but his twin, and then clicked on the icon. A message filled the screen, the grammar and spelling proving that it had been dictated and the program had turned it into text.

Yo Jazzy, didn't wanna try callin' you again 'cause you said you had some stuff to get done. Anyways, we think we gotta way to get into the base; plans are attached for ya to check over. Boss is runnin' 'round here with my dumbaft twin, lookin' to see why ol' Sounders went runnin' back to the Nemesis.

That's 'bout all – oh yeah, we didn't get to tell ya before, but remember to turn off both your audio AND video feeds when you cut a call, 'cause we sure got a show when you n' Prowl started to get it on – that's right, I'm still sayin' it, Stryke be slagged – in front of the camera. Primus, I'm just happy that we didn't have to hear it, but really, you guys are kinda kinky. Still, you should've seen Strykey run, tryin' to figure how to turn off the feed from our end. It was somethin' to see, that's for sure.

M'kay, I'm out.

'Ro

Sunstreaker reread the message, just to be sure he'd read it correctly, and then called his brother over. They read it again together, and then they looked each other in the optics and smiled deviously. This was it! This was their proof! Jazz's Boys had to exist; what else could this message mean? They copied the message to memory files, saving it away for proof later if others asked. Then, they turned their attention to the possible identities of the unknown mechs.

At least three unidentified mechs had been referenced: "Stryke" or "Strykey", "'Ro", who was the writer, and his apparent twin, only referred to as "my dumbaft twin". Twins weren't common, but they didn't have much to go on to locate a pair, especially if they were undercover.

"Hey, can't previous video feeds be played back?" Sideswipe asked absentmindedly. His twin stared at him in shock, and then his faceplates were split in a decidedly devilish and slightly proud smirk.

"Sides, for once, I'm proud to call you my twin." Turning back to the terminal, the yellow mech quickly navigated his way through the files, ignoring the sounds of his twin's protests about his statement. Scrolling through records of old video feeds, the yellow warrior was checking where every message had originated, trying to see if any of the addresses could possibly shed some light on their mystery. Most were signed from 'Bots they already knew, like some from Elita and her femmes, and a few from Mirage and some other Special Ops. mechs from when they'd been in the field. Nothing out of the ordinary until...

Security Level: Maximum

Recipients Allowed to View: Autobot Jazz, Third in Command, Head of Special Operations Division

Well, that looked promising. Sunstreaker tapped the terminal's controls, telling it to expand the information on the past transmission.

Message Received: One joor ago

Subject: Decepticon Base

From: Autobot Stryker, First Lieutenant of Special Operations Division

Stryker? That designation would fit the nicknames "Stryke" and "Strykey". But since when did Jazz have a First Lieutenant that no one knew about? It had always been assumed that it was Mirage, who was a Lieutenant, but of what rank, no one was quite sure except for Jazz and the mech in question. Apparently, he was at least Second, but why would a First Lieutenant, a mech who would technically outrank the twins and a lot of mechs on the Ark, be in the field and unheard of?

Making sure that nobody was around once again, the duo shared a look and silently agreed that all the brig time in the world was worth seeing this and putting an end to the rumors once and for all. And, of course, winning all of the credits from the betting pool for being the first to have proof of Jazz's Boys.

They clicked an icon and played back the recorded transmission, which recorded audio and video from both sides of a conversation, making Jazz himself visible in a small box in the corner of the terminal's screen. The rest of the screen was filled with a view of a pair of monochromatic mechs in a fight with each other on the floor. A big green mech stepped away from his place close to the terminal, walked over to the pair, and lifted each of the laughably small mechs by the bars on the back of their necks, bringing them up to optic level and staring at them intently. They struggled momentarily before going slack in the mech's servos, still looking at each other with angry expressions.

"If either of you," the green one began in a dangerous, low voice that boomed from his vocalizer in the quiet room. "Get into another fight that is not against an enemy in the next orn, especially if it's with each other, so help me Primus you won't see the light of day until this fraggin' war is over and you can find some medic to detach your helms from where I'll have welded them up your afts. Savvy?"

The two mechs nodded, causing them to sway comically in the other's grip.

"Good," the green mech said calmly, unceremoniously dropping the other two in an undignified heap on the floor. The tall one turned to the screen and addressed the past-Jazz.

"Hey Jazz," he said in a much brighter tone, rubbing the back of his helm and looking just a tad bit sheepish. "If it wasn't obvious, the two dumbafts just can't keep their servos off each other."

This received cries of anger from the "two dumbafts", which the tall mech waved away uncaringly. The black mech stomped up to the terminal, not looking very happy.

"The slagger started saying I would get it on with 'Cons again," he snarled, looking for Jazz to side with him.

The TIC chuckled. "Do you mean that as in he was taunting you about it before, or you already got in on with some?" The look on the black mech's faceplates was so comical that the red and yellow twins couldn't keep from snickering aloud in the present as they watched the proceedings.

"He was being mean to me!" the white mech cried, pointing a digit at the black one, with whom he shared a remarkable resemblance – could these be those twins they were reading about? – and looked surprisingly young as he did so; very immature for a supposedly undercover mech.

"Yeah, Snowflake, I can believe that," Jazz said, a smile peeking out form under his visor. Snowflake? What a terrible designation for any mech.

"Ignore Ice Blink, he's being a sparkling today," the big green mech said. Ice Blink, well at least that name had some dignity to it.

"He's one every day," the black mech muttered, grumbling to himself but purposely loud enough for others to hear.

"And so are you, Pyro," Jazz told him, laughing loudly at the shocked and furious look that adorned the short mech's faceplates. The green mech did hid best to stifle a laugh and addressed Jazz in an odd fashion.

"Yeah, Captain Jazztastic, we all know that already. What we don't know is why you wanted us to call in so soon." Captain Jazztastic? Where had that come from?

Jazz's faceplates became more solemn, business-like. "I need you boys to get more on the new base."

"What?" the black mech all but shrieked. "You swore that we'd never have to go back there again! I am NOT getting felt up by those disgusting 'Cons again!"

The green mech sent a lethal glare at "Pyro", and Jazz stopped him before he could say anything, saying, "Stryker, s'okay. I really don't mind it."

"But I do mind when mechs sneak into my office and hack into my extremely private and highly classified transmissions that not even Prowl and Prime know about." The twins turned slowly and nervously, afraid to look at the short, visored mech they knew was leaning against the doorframe of the office. Jazz had a dangerous glint to his visor, definitely not a happy or playful one as he usually did.

"Care to tell me why you broke into my office and committed acts that could get you court marshaled and thrown out of the faction?"


Yes, the twins are in BIG trouble. Review and maybe we'll get to see what will happen...

Cannon tag (what Rumble and Frenzy were said to have been playing) is a reference to an offhand thought that Astrotrain makes in my story "Dark Pasts" about how doors on the Nemesis must be reinforced to last in cannon tag games.