AN- Star Fata here, sorry for the late update, there were computer problems. Namely, there is only one computer in my house. And it refused to save my edits for some reason, so when I eventually realised this, I ended up waiting until such a time.
Thanks to SongStream for your corrections with regards to Molten-Ashes' shoddy translations from English to Japanese. Hence Prowl's sword is now called 'Toukuuryuu'.
Disclaimer: We own neither Bleach nor Transformers. We do, however, own a lot of Bleach and Transformers merchandise. Books, DVD's, toys, that kind of thing.
"Then take my sword and ram it through your core" the mech coughed the sword vibrating with the shudders the pain was causing his rescuer. "I'll transfer my powers to you."
"Then give me that blade, Spark." Jazz said gripping the upper half of the blade and aiming it for the seam of his chest plates.
"I'm no spark." The mech smiled thinly "My name is Prowl, I'm a Spark Reaper."
"Very well, mech" Jazz grinned as the monstrous Decepticon broke free of his prison thundering towards them with a shrieking roar. "My name… is Jazz"
The blade pierced the silver mech's spark, the dark night world erupting in white powerful light.
People have hope
Because they can't see death
Standing behind them.
Prowl slumped against the lamppost as the light faded his doorwings folded, exhausted against his back strut. Standing before him, radiating power like a nuclear reactor, was the silver mech called Jazz, ready to eliminate the Decepticon that had threatened his family and the surrounding buildings.
If he hadn't been so terrified, he would have been somewhat awed. As it was, he could sense the power of an ice storm inside of him fading into the clinging chill of half melted ice.
'Toukuuryuu!' He screamed internally, his optics still focused on Jazz. He couldn't hear the answer, but a reassuring flicker of icy winds in his spark calmed him. Toukuuryuu wasn't lost to him. They could recover from this…
'But how did this happen?' Prowl's logic centre kicked in with a vengeance. He'd only meant to give Jazz a small portion of his energies, just enough to be rid of the Decepticon before them, yet he'd been left with almost nothing.
Snapping out of his contemplation, he allowed himself to analyse the battle in front of his optics.
Jazz stood there, barely noticing the corona of pure energy surrounding him. He held his long shining black weapon out and smirked at the Decepticon, who only laughed, barely pausing in its charge, lethal sharp claws outstretched to swipe at the much smaller mech.
"One pathetic spark reaper is the same as another pathetic spark reaper." It sneered. "After I'm done with you, I'll kill the rest!"
Jazz tilted his head, the smirk still on his face plates, curved helm fins glinting in the moonlight and moved. The Decepticon shrieked in pain as he appeared on the other side of the monster, its arm split neatly in half, blackened ghostly energon pouring forth like a dam that had burst. The demon soul roared, throwing its head back like a turbo wolf howling at the moon, its remaining hand reaching to clutch the stump.
"You were saying?" Jazz grinned, his smile almost feral.
The Decepticon's optics narrowed, ruby pin pricks in the shadows of the night as it charged a final time, heavy pede steps tearing the road, claws on its remaining hand extended to maim and destroy. "I'll eat your spark chamber Soul Reaper." it howled as Jazz lunged to greet the behemoth.
"You'll never get the chance." Jazz said, almost calmly, landing in a crouch, his sword leaning on his shoulder as the shocked war-class dissolved into spark particles. The titan's faceplate split cleanly in half, the only hint that it had been there at all was the small splashes of foul black ghost energon.
It had barely disintegrated when Jazz's weapon vanished, the long, ornate katana flickering out of existence as the smaller silver mech collapsing with a groan, apparently a mortal mech once more.
Prowl stared in confusion, a little out of his depth, his powers drained and barely recognisable even to his own powerful senses. What was he supposed to do now? He stared at Jazz's fallen form, his faceplate twisting into a troubled frown as his injury throbbed.
As he was trying to work out how to resolve this new dilemma, he heard pede steps approaching, and saw blue flashes out of the corner of his vision. Turning, he could see only silhouettes. His audio receptors could pick up a faint humming.
"Well, what do we have here?" The newcomer asked, cheerily. "Something exploded and it wasn't my fault? My, my, it seems somebot is trying to outdo me."
Prowl was almost completely certain there was no way his spark chamber could rattle in fear. It was just an expression.
====Morning====
Jazz onlined to the sound of his brother's voice.
"Jazz, wake up already!" Blaster shouted banging his fist on his elder brother's door.
Jazz made a small sound in his vocalizer, sitting up on his berth. 'Was it all a dream?'
A sudden weight on his helm made him cry out. Reaching up a servo, he pulled off one of the more annoying cassettes that his brother's had raised. "Rumble, we've talked about this."
Rumble smirked at him- the brat- and squirmed off to the safety of his creator, zipping out the door before he could throw the pest out himself. Soundwave looked at Jazz, a glint of amusement in his optics as his brother emerged, groggy and cranky from his room.
"Jazz: Awake. Building Status: Vandalised." Soundwave stated, leaving to find his wayward cassette.
"Vandalised?" Jazz said, half to himself. He decided to head to the kitchen unit for energon before going to see the damage. There was no hurry; Soundwave would have said if there was. Or gotten Blaster to do so, he could be surprisingly lazy at times.
As he walked out of the building, still drinking his morning cube, his circuits froze in his frame. There were the marks of talons on the sidewalk, concrete dust across the scene, and rubble scattered over the area.
Turning, he could see the façade of the building had been blasted to shreds, burn marks that no ordinary cybertronian could have made scarring the face of the apartments.
"Pretty awful, huh?" Blaster said, quiet as he never was. "And we never heard a thing."
Jazz looked at his brother. "What happened here?"
Blaster looked at the rubble, where their neighbours and assorted cassettes were moving rubble around. "Maybe a political protest got out of hand again. I've heard they can get pretty violent."
Soundwave made a sound of agreement. "Also possible: Gang warfare." He suggested, before going to help his cassettes.
Jazz could only frown, a strange expression on his faceplates. A political protest would have been broadcast far and wide, and the protestor's wouldn't be caught dead somewhere as unimportant as the backstreets of Polyhex. There weren't enough bigwigs around to protest against.
As for Soundwave's gang warfare theory, it was true that it wasn't unheard of in their area. However, their close proximity to the enforcer's station meant that it was usually low key, and far away, and if it wasn't, the enforcers were on the scene within minutes to make the appropriate arrests. There was a distinct lack of crime scene tape, which ruled out that theory pretty soundly.
Besides, political protestors and gangs, no matter how well-armed, couldn't have caused that particular blast mark. Only a war-class mech was armed with that kind of heavy weaponry, and both Soundwave and Blaster knew well enough to know better.
So why were they speaking as if they didn't? Jazz sighed. And here he thought last night had been weird. Steeling himself for more… weirdness, he stuck in with the clean-up effort. If he was lucky, they'd be finished before he had to go to work.
He wasn't. In fact, he barely had time to brush the dust off of his frame before racing to the Special Operations bar. His luck seemed to be in short supply lately.
"Hey Jazz! We got a new guy!" Bluestreak called over, the moment he slid through the door, the younger mech standing beside the bar with the two bartenders, a set of temperamental twins named Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, both giving a simple grunt of greeting as they set up for the shift.
"New guy, huh?" Jazz mused. "Didn't know we were hiring."
"Neither did I." Bluestreak chirped. "He's like me except older and he doesn't talk much, but he said he doesn't mind that I do, which is great because just about everyone else does. Not that I'm saying you mind Jazz," He added, afraid he'd offended Jazz.
Jazz interrupted the deluge. "Sounds cool. Where is this guy?"
Bluestreak gestured towards the back room, but it was unnecessary, due to the vaguely familiar doorwinged form stepping out.
'What the hell?' Jazz thought incredulously his optics widening behind his visor in alarm, freezing where he stood. It was the Spark Reaper from the battle… Prowl.