Title: Dance with the Devil

Universe: TF:Prime

Characters: Jazz, Shockwave

Rating: T (for violence)

Description: That Shockwave. He never could take a joke.

"What an interesting predicament we find ourselves in," Jazz says, holding his blaster steady despite the trembling of his frame.

A single optic stares back at him, cold and unyielding. "State your purpose, Autobot."

"You mean, it's not obvious?" Jazz slides a step to the right, ignoring the stabs of pain from his left knee and the gurgle of his hydraulics. "I'm disappointed, mech. Don't ya know who I am?"

"Your designation is of no consequence to me."

There isn't so much of a twitch to serve as warning, but Jazz reads the intent in his opponent's unwavering gaze nonetheless. The blast fills the corridor and Jazz throws himself to the side to avoid it, feeling the edge of the heatwave score against his dorsal plating.

He winces, hits the ground on his right shoulder, and rolls back onto his pedes.

"State your purpose, Autobot," Shockwave repeats with a menacing step forward, cannon raised toward Jazz once more. "If your answer proves satisfactory, I might make this painless."

Jazz forces out a laugh, and behind his visor, searches valiantly for an escape route. "Hardly incentive, Shockwave. Most evil villains have better threats than that, ya know."

The sharp whine of that massive cannon charging for another strong blast fills the narrow hallway. "That was no threat, Autobot."

Does nothing break the mech's calm? Primus, it's like trying to get a rise out of Prowl!

Jazz slides another pace backward, ignoring the energon plopping freely from the gash in his arm. He's only got to stall Shockwave just a bit longer. What's taking them so long anyway! Did his timer malfunction? Frag Perceptor if it did!

"An invitation then?" Jazz suggests with a smirk and throws himself into another clumsy dive and roll to avoid Shockwave's second shot. This time, Jazz manages to squeeze off a round of his own, though it misses by several microns and Shockwave doesn't so much as flinch. "Afraid I'll have to decline. Interfactional romances are frowned upon."

The sound of pedesteps echoes from around the curve of the hall. Frag it. Shockwave's reinforcements are answering their master's call.

Jazz, mech, you've gotten yourself into quite the rusted gear here.

Shockwave's optic flashes, cannon giving another fierce whine of charge. "I will give you one final chance, Autobot. State your purpose. Otherwise I shall be forced to acquire it through alternate means."

Jazz's fuel pump stutters. Frag no. He knows all bout Shockwave's little processor-hacking device and he wants nothing of it. No, thank you.

"As fun as that sounds," Jazz says, and in the distance, he hears a low, continuous rumble. Finally! He smirks. "I think that's my cue."

Alert sirens wail into existence, screaming their warnings at a noxious pitch. Lights flash in alternating bands of crimson and ocher. A monotonous voice announces that the infrastructure has been damaged and critical supports are malfunctioning.

Good times.

Emotion suddenly flares into Shockwave's energy field, which batters at Jazz as though it holds tangible razorblades.

"What have you done?" the Decepticon scientist demands, hand whipping through the air in express shock.

"Nothing much." Jazz pulls up a mental schematic of this not-so-secret-anymore laboratory, tracing all routes, anything that might get him the scrap out of here. "A bomb here. A crossed wire there. I say you've got three breems before this compound becomes a hole in the ground. Too bad, so sad."

Fury bleeds from Shockwave's energy field before he can whip it back into shape. "You ignorant pile of scrap!"

The scientist doesn't bother with ceremony anymore. He lifts his arm, aims and fires, heat and pressure filling the narrow corridor.

Jazz scrambles to avoid the powerful blasts, laughing at the sight of Shockwave's infamous reserve vanishing in the wake of screeching alarms and a monotone countdown suggesting evacuation.

Primus, you touch a mech's questionable experiments and suddenly he goes off the deep end.

"I'd apologize but I'm not sorry," Jazz says, using a small stack of supply crates for a temporary cover. "And I'd love to stay and chat but, you know, Autobots to see, Decepticons to scrap, labs to sabotage. Fun times."

He senses heat, energy crackling through the air, and Jazz throws himself to the left, barely avoiding Shockwave's next round. It clips his fully-functional leg, scoring plating with the sharp stench of burnt metal and Jazz scrambles to his pedes, hissing as pain radiates everywhere.

"There is no escape, Autobot."

A subroutine flashes brightly at him. Schematics zoom in and highlight for good measure. Escape route located.

"On the contrary, Shockey, I've just found my out." Jazz whips his blaster toward the Decepticon and aims a series of rounds at Shockwave, more distractions than anything else, and throws his battered frame toward the trash chute he's found.

"By the way," Jazz adds as Shockwave flails to avoid the blasterfire. "My designation's not Autobot. It's Jazz. Have a nice orn!"

With a cheerful wave, Jazz dives into the disposal chute, thanking Primus and anyone else that'll listen that he can fit, just as cannon fire erupts into the corridor behind him.

That Shockwave. He never could take a joke.

a/n: For all that Shockwave is one of my favorites, I just don't write him enough... I need to do it more often.

I hope you enjoyed!