Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: OCs, Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/other
Rating: R mech/mech/mech
Codes: Crossover, Slash, Rape, Public Interfacing
Summary: Prowl walks on in a gangbang of a mech in the officer's washrack.
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Notes: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles
~text~ bond/hardline talk
::text:: comm chatter
At All Costs 10: Some Things Just Aren't Right
As reluctant as he'd been to leave his berth and the warm comfort of Jazz curled and snuggling against him, so different from booting up inside Soundwave's rib struts, having his lover - and oh did he enjoy indulging in using that term to describe Jazz - walk beside him to the officer's communal washrack a few doors down from his quarters was a very welcome thing. It added a little more to that fantasy of being an actual couple; they were cleaning up for their duty shifts after a perfectly normal recharge cycle together. No one gave them more than a glance. Not a single double take, no comments about the scuffs and color nanite transfers they both still sported. Just the occasional nod of acknowledgement due by Prowl's rank, the occasional cheery greeting to or from Jazz.
The little silver mech was clearly well known among the officers, but even more in this place of constant backstabbing, he seemed to be well liked. Not feared ... yet no one looked at him in a predatory way either that most mechs who weren't feared faced.
Even Prowl was feared, though more for what he could do to a mech on the battlefield with his plans than what he could do to on in the corridors, and what Soundwave would do to protect him, of course. He had at least a vorn of ornly training before he could even begin to hold his own against the non-frontliners in a fight. It would be a dozen vorns or more before he'd be respected for his holding his own against the common warriors. He had no illusions about his ability to hold his own against the true warriors such as Starscream or Megatron, ever.
The door to the washrack slid open when he pinged it, allowing a small billow of solvent, cleanser and rinser steam into the corridor. With a reflexive scan of his optics and other passive sensors he picked up one mech, Whiplash, on the far right. Despite being only a handspan taller than Jazz and just as lightly built, the black mech was as feared as Megatron, and for much the same reasons. Both were deadly on and off the battlefield with a cold temper and utter disregard for the sparks of others when it came to maintaining discipline.
On the far side from Whiplash was a gathering of five mechs.
Prowl x-vented in resignation. He really didn't need an interfacing party with Jazz right next to him. It was going to be hard enough to keep his hands off the beautiful silver mech as it was.
Unfortunately, other options for cleaning up were limited. There was a relatively high chance of similar activity in the common washracks, and showing up with Jazz at his side to use Soundwave's was not a viable option either.
With a last apologetic brush of his field against the small mech next to him, Prowl pulled all of his emotions together and resolutely clamped down on them. A visible change ran through him, subtle as it was, as his sensor panels stiffened and his entire frame straightened, the edge of ease being with Jazz brought him vanishing.
Jazz hummed thoughtfully at the change and walked in. While it would be easy to miss, for Prowl, who was trying to avoid looking at the small orgy to his left anyway, it was clear that Jazz was not happy with the situation either.
::Any clue why that's tolerated?:: Jazz opened a private comm as they turned on the solvent shower.
While Prowl was not looking at the show taking place he could hear it just fine. He considered his answer as he waited for the solvent to warm before stepping under the stream, allowing it to wash over his plating and soothe just a little of the tension away.
::Because there is no good reason to stop it, and stopping it would cause more damage than allowing it to go on does.:: Prowl tone was clearly resigned as he repeated an answer that he had been given, and one that he still did not agree with. The only thing he was sure of was that Jazz physically recoiled from him.
::Prowl, that mech's not willing, and he's got getting paid either,:: Jazz's tone was cautious, though how ill the scene made him was layered in it clearly. ::Decepticon officers are raping a Decepticon soldier, and it would cause more harm than good to stop it?::
The Praxian's sensor panels quivered before going stiff again. ::They would turn their attention to other things. More destructive things.:: There was distress and regret in his tone, distress that ran deep and clearly troubled the mech speaking.
Jazz was silent for a long time, nearly long enough for them to finish cleaning up. It was long enough for the gang rape to break up, leaving only the young grunt in the corner, trying to pull himself together enough to make it somewhere relatively safe to recover.
::Much as I hate a lot of the old system, something's wrong with any system that finds that okay,:: he murmured, not actually asking for a response, but merely stating his beliefs. ::At least the Senate gave lip service to having rights to your own interface systems.::
Prowl vented softly beside him, flicking the last of his solvent off his sensor. Except that lip service was all that it had been. Technically what had just occurred across the room from them was not allowed among the Decepticon ranks, but the one time that Prowl had dared to say anything about it he had been promptly reminded of his place.
Among subordinates he could interfere as he felt inclined, but it only created hard feelings all around in culture that placed a great emphasis on individual strength. Among the officers... he was very junior still, and it was not his place to protest what his superiors did.
::If you are not strong enough to defend yourself, or have allies willing to do so, then you are subject to whatever happens to you.:: He observed, the words hard for him to choke out around his own programming.
::I guess honesty is preferable,:: Jazz murmured very quietly. ::You've been lucky, having Soundwave's protection and Megatron's favor. When will you want your quarters back?::
::Back?:: Prowl looked at him, slightly relieved at being distracted.
::He needs medical attention and he'll be much more likely to stick around long enough for it under an officer's apparent protection,:: Jazz explained. ::I'll have him out before you want your quarters back.::
The Praxian started at him, stunned for a moment. The idea had not occurred to him, that there was something he could do subtly. ::As long as you need them. I spend most of my time in Soundwave's quarters unless I am with you. If you can ... I would be interested in knowing what happens.::
::Thanks,:: Jazz smiled warmly and caressed one of Prowl's sensor wings as he passed. ::I'll tell you as much as I find out.::
As Prowl watched, Jazz got the mech to his feet with the kind of absolute authority that only senior officers usually had. Even though the grunt was larger, more heavily armed and armored, and likely a better fighter than Jazz, there was absolutely no question that the small, lithe mech was the authority and wielded it effectively.
Curiosity flared in Prowl, several question being quickly filed away to ask his lover the next time they met. A notice caught his attention, warning him that if he did not depart soon he would be late for his shift.
With one last look at the new side of his lover helping the abused grunt down the hall he set off, setting the rising doubts in his processor aside until he had the time to properly analyze them.
The shooting range was almost empty, quiet except for the steady shooting of the Praxian, each shot frightening accurate. His attention was focused, but not tense, the steady motions smooth and controlled as he went from one target to the next. It was soothing, and so easy that it allowed him to delegate processing power to other things, working through problems as methodically as his shooting.
He was absently aware that activity in the range slowed down the longer he was there, that he was drawing a crowd. He heard the whispers, the tones. IDed the owners, did his best to ID the emotions represented. Some officers he knew, several mechs he didn't know, but all spoke in some combination of shock, awe and respect.
::Should I be concerned?:: He wasn't yet, and he trusted the symbiot watching over him. He did not trust his comrades.
::No,:: Laserbeak cackled over the comm, utterly delighted by the spectacle. ::You're finally being seen for the dangerous mech you are. It's a good thing, those whispers. You're one of the best shots any of them have seen.::
::Potential benefits.:: The idea that even if he couldn't take them down hand to hand he could shoot them later would be a deterrent to some. An errant shot on the field in the midst battle might never be tracked back to friendly fire-
Prowl's processor stuttered, his next shot still hitting the target but going slightly off the mark as his processor caught up with just what his tactical computer was suggesting.
Did he really just contemplate that?
Did he really want to support a society and faction where such a thought was not only normal but the expectation?
Because he knew, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, that it was exactly what those watching were thinking.
::What made you think?:: Laserbeak asked with a low coo of concern.
Prowl finished the sequence, lowering his blaster as he allowed the range evaluation to compute as he answered. ::I could, would, fire on any of them who so much as threatened us, and feel no regret.::
::Not a bad thing,:: Laserbeak pointed out. ::Most of them would do the same. If they believe you will retaliate it will do more than we can to protect you. Not every mech who is feared can protect themselves in the moment, but they can retaliate in a devastating way.::
::Is this what we are fighting for?:: Prowl asked, allowing how disturbed he was at the idea to show in his tone, even though none of his emotion was evident on his face or in his posture.
Not even pleasure or satisfaction showed when the evaluation came back, perfect except for the one missed shot.
::For power, for the right to abuse those we are supposed to be fighting with and kill those who offend or threaten us as we please?::
::Better for us to choose than the Senate,:: the avian spat, but Prowl caught the sub-harmonics of Laserbeak's own distress that this wasn't the same faction or cause that his master had signed up for.
::Doesn't it all come back to the same thing? Suffering at the whims of others?:: Prowl asked softly, resetting the target sequence, altering the parameters to include computer generated variables this time. He had time to run another session through, to try and work through this.
He was not fighting for equality. That was no logic in the ideal, in fact it was functionally impossible. But equal chance was not unreasonable, and neither was personal choice. The system he had turned his back on had not always been, but the one that loomed before him was not as bright as it had seemed when he made the change.
Laserbeak was quiet for a very long time, nearly half the set.
::We gave our vow of loyalty,:: he said uneasily. ::Megatron is our master's master.::
He did not receive an answer until the set was finished and the computer tabulating again. ::And if Megatron proves to be no better than the senate?::
Traitorous thoughts, considered carefully before they were thought and worded so they were not yet outright rebellion.
::We will be rebelled against,:: Laserbeak answered simply.
Prowl considered that while he checked his weapon over. He had time for another short round, and the shooting was helping him think, even if the conclusions he was coming to were troubling.
His scores for the sequence with random variables came back, well above acceptable, if not as good as his first round. This set he downloaded the data from, wanting to analyze it later and determine what had caused his inaccuracies so he could correct them.
A moment spared to check the identity of those watching as his considered his last set. The one he was considering would take more of his attention. ::Watch for me?::
::Always,:: Laserbeak responded.
Confident no one would bother him, or at least if they did he would have ample warning, Prowl started his last round. The targets were moving much faster and with more variables, testing his ability to process as well as his reflexes this time.
Above him and between Prowl and those watching, the avian symbiot made his watch obvious to all. Wings spread, head swiveling far more than required. It was a blatant reminder to all that the deadly sniper they were watching had a spotter that was deadly in his own right. It had the desired results in making those who were feeling aggressive settle down.
Yes, everyone knew that Prowl was learning to fight and couldn't even take down Smokescreen yet. Now everyone knew that Prowl was a crack shot.
Soon everyone would know that the heavy pulse rifle designed for ranged targets - a sniper's weapon - wasn't the only weapon Prowl excelled with. In a joor or so the pistol range would echo with the results of Prowl's natural talent. All would soon know what happened when an advanced tactical computer and brilliant CPU focused on the more deadly arts.
Laserbeak was not at all shy about admitting that Prowl looked so very desirable right now, taking out every target he sighted, even if they weren't all perfect hits.
::Thank you.:: Prowl called as the last target faded, evaluating his own performance as he started to pack his weapon away, not sparing any attention for his audience. ::Are you coming with me, or are you required elsewhere?::
The pistol range and then some down time, most of which would be devoted to determining what he needed to work on the next time he had time to allot to the practice range. Being one of his stronger skills he was not able to devote as much time as he would have liked to working on that skill.
::I don't go on patrol for three joors,:: Laserbeak replied, chirring and flying down to land on Prowl's shoulder to nuzzle him.
::I'll take that as a yes.:: Prowl said, affection in his voice. He lightly rubbed the back of Laserbeak's mobile neck as he walked to the pistol range.