A/N: Upping the creepiness factor :D
CaptainShort19: Thank you- I'm glad you liked their conversations. It's tough after their phone calls home, they were reminded that they are supposed to hate each other and they are all frustrated by the situation. You are absolutely right.
lightning bird: Aw, glad you liked it! :D thank you so much for commenting.
I'm trying this again, because the fic "updated" but didn't actually post the chapter? Come one wth
When they returned to their suite, Starscream slipped away into his berthroom without comment. Soundwave, Jazz, and Prowl got some energon from their dispenser and sat sullenly around the room in awkward silence.
"You should go talk to him," Prowl said after a few kliks.
Jazz snapped his helm to look at Prowl. "Frag that, no I'm not going to do that. Everything I said was true. We don't need him trying to get the Quintessons on the side of the Decepticons." Soundwave just stared at them from the couch offering no comment.
Prowl rolled his optics. "That isn't what was happening. He has been through a lot Jazz, you should not antagonize an ally," Prowl said, looking disappointed.
Jazz frowned, and then turned to look at Soundwave. "Is any of what I said untrue?"
Soundwave tilted he helm, looking almost contemplative. "Jazz: Surely not asking Soundwave to comment on the relationships of my commanders." Jazz huffed ignobly. "Because if Soundwave did answer Jazz, Soundwave would tell you that things are more complicated than Jazz is making them out to be."
Jazz shrugged irritably. "What does it matter? We are all just going to go back to shooting each other once this is all over. Our factions are probably fighting right now as we sit here trying to nurse the feelings of one tightly-wound seeker."
Prowl shook his head, looking more disappointed.
Soundwave's visor flashed. "Jazz's assumptions: incorrect. Megatron would prioritize the Quintesson threat over the Autobots."
Prowl nodded. "Optimus would do the same. You know he would, Jazz."
Soundwave continued. "Query: Is it not possible that a temporary alliance could be forged, just as we have made one here?"
Jazz sagged a little at that. It was possible of course. In fact, it was probably quite likely. But that wasn't the point. Didn't they understand that if the factions somehow worked together, they would try and think they could rescue them? It was pointless to even try.
He looked to the door that Starscream had gone through and sighed. Despite his own feelings of hopelessness, Prowl was right. Starscream was an easy target, likely because he and Jazz were somewhat similar.
He awkwardly walked toward the door and knocked, feeling the optics on his back. There was no reply from behind the door, so he walked in anyway.
Prowl and Soundwave watched him leave. Prowl smiled softly into his energon, and Soundwave watched Prowl thoughtfully.
"I thought that Jazz was the master manipulator here," Prowl said smiling as he finished his energon.
Soundwave smiled under his mouthplate but said nothing else.
Jazz walked in, feeling awkward and exposed. The seeker was sitting in his berth watching him carefully with his optics, but otherwise not moving. He had a cat-like grace to him, Jazz thought. That made him all the more anxious.
"I uh. Well. I'm not usually at a loss for words."
Starscream narrowed his optics.
"Uhm. Well. I'm somewhat proud of what I do in my line of work," he said. "I train spies. I like espionage. Sabotage. I try to outmaneuver mechs in their minds rather than on the battlefield. And I'm good at it." Starscream had started to look more and more irritated.
"So, when I say that I miscalculated my hand here, I'm trying to say I wasn't proud of how that went on the stage."
Starscream's irritation seem to deflate slightly. Starscream turned his red optics off of the mech. "For the record," he said, his vocalizer raspy, "it wasn't as much what was said that was the problem. I don't dispute anything," he said bitterly.
Jazz kind of wanted to yell "I told you so" through the closed door at his enforcer boyfriend but decided against it.
"However," Starscream said. "I don't like that kind of information being utilized by my ally to my enemy," he said.
Jazz winced as he looked up to the ceiling and nodded. "Point taken."
"They already expected me to call Megatron. They are going to be all over the information you just shared and try to read between some lines and… I don't know, theorize? I mean, I am a mech that doesn't mind attention, but they are taking it to a completely different level."
Jazz nodded then looked at him quizzically. "You didn't call Megatron?"
Starscream rolled his optics. "Why does everyone care who I called?"
Jazz noticed something in the seeker's optics. It was a kind of urgency or a kind of strained look. The kind of look you give someone begging for them to change the subject.
File that away for later.
"You're right. Not my business," he said, inclining his head a little into a bow. "I just came here to say that… I think I was unfair to you. For what it's worth."
Starscream sneered. "I don't need you to be fair to me, Autobot. Just stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours."
Jazz shrugged. "As you wish," he said, thinking that was close to an "apology accepted" as he was going to get. "It was nice to be able to banter with you like the old times. Feels like home."
The corner of Starscream's mouth twitched. "Miss home, do you? Is that Cybertron or the mudball?"
Jazz looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess it is the mudball then. Haven't been to Cybertron in quite some time. How's it looking?"
Starscream frowned. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Jazz smirked. "Well as scintillating as this conversation has been, I think I'll leave you alone for a bit, yeah?" he said jumping off the berth and going to the door.
Starscream snorted and sat in the darkness.
The next morning, Prowl had gotten up first to see that a paper envelope had been slipped under their door in the night. It had their designations on the front in elaborate Cybertronian glyphs.
Inside was an invitation to a gala. He sighed tiredly.
Eventually everyone got up and he showed them the invite. Inside, it read:
"Dearest Cybertronians, Your presence is requested at a gala event being held this afternoon. While this is not a gamed event, your best behavior will be expected as you may find your charming presence elicits more sponsorships for yourselves. Androids will pick you up around [12:00pm] to get you ready. Sincerely, your loving Handler, Artuz."
"I thought we got a break for two days," Starscream whined.
"Clearly they don't count this as work," Prowl said, flipping the invitation over as if it might grant him more knowledge if he just looked closer. "What does 'get ready' mean?"
They could only guess.
Their guesses were about right.
It was uncomfortable and needlessly thorough. They were picked up by androids and escorted to a room where more androids cleaned and polished their armor to a ridiculous shine. There were waxes applied and joints lubricated. It would have been nice had it been under different circumstances. They were then outfitted with what Jazz called "play nice" collars that were gaudy ornate things of gold and jewels that matched their paint colors. Only Starscream seemed to not mind.
They were escorted into the main ballroom.
Just as everything else had been disturbing since they had arrived at their new lives, the gala also unnerved them. There was something familiar about the furnishings, and it harkened back to the Golden Age of the Cybertron before there had descended into factions and war and torn then home world apart.
Artuz greeted them. He was a little more muted than his usual exuberant self.
"Hello my darlings," he said. "I tried to tell them you needed more rest, but I suppose the show must go on," he said tiredly, turning around in a flourish. He beckoned them to follow as they walked into the room together.
"Is there something we are supposed to be doing?" Prowl asked as his blue optics flitted around the room.
Artuz nodded. "Yes, if I had more time, I would have prepped you better. I apologize for my failure to you," he said quietly. The four of them exchanged looks of confusion, but the Quintesson continued. "Try and mingle as best you can. They were intrigued by your interview and want to see more of you up close and personal and… not paralyzed. They are going to try and split you up, so do your best to stay together as you can. I can't be in all places at once," the Quintesson said sadly.
"You almost sound as if you care," Jazz said. He might have lacked a little of the anger he usually had when he said such a retort.
Artuz turned slightly to look up at Jazz behind him. "I recognize it is a lot to ask of you to trust me, but I really do want you to survive," he said turning back to the gala. "Please be careful."
As if on cue, they were intercepted by a crowd of variously sized Quintessons who were pulling them into four different directions. They pestered them about their interview questions and other inane things about the war, their favorite flavor of energon, or what they enjoyed doing when they weren't killing each other.
Jazz managed to keep tabs on Prowl and could politely extricate himself from the conversation to gently put a servo on Prowl's winglet. They were vibrating with nervousness. Upon seeing it was Jazz who was slinking up behind him, he relaxed slightly and was able to be somewhat charming to his questioners with Jazz's help.
"Did you enjoy being an enforcer?" said a white-masked Quintesson, the expression looking like it was laughing.
"I did enjoy my role, yes," Prowl managed to say with a smile. An android came by, gliding as if on wheels and handing both Jazz and Prowl champagne-styled flutes of what appeared to be high-grade. "T-hank you," Prowl said furrowing his brow. "But yes, I enjoyed the chase and the idea that I was helping make things safer for everyone."
The Quintesson nodded, and his companions seemed to be politely interested. "And what about you two? When did you sparkbond?"
Prowl stiffened, and he seemed to unconsciously lean back into Jazz seeking comfort. Jazz smiled, his movements becoming like liquid mercury. He chose to answer for Prowl. "Masters, we have not sparkbonded by any means. We understand that would be against the rules," he said smiling lightly.
Still, he allowed a possessive arm to wrap around the back of Prowl's waist, pulling him closer. He felt Prowl's frame heat up in a blush. "That being said, I am not opposed to the idea should our masters grant us worthy." He felt Prowl tense more, but Jazz squeezed him gently trying to communicate trust.
The Quintessons seemed pleased by the answer. "We usually don't allow sparkbonds of our combatants," the white masked Quintesson replied. "It can affect what happens in the games too much either from giving an advantage or a disadvantage when one of the mates perishes," he said without any hint of empathy. "But I admit, I see the appeal in you two. You even match!"
Jazz was thankful for his visor at this point, that his optics might not be immediately visible to show his hatred. Yes, they could be a matching set. How perfect that could be. He immediately started thinking of where this Quintesson could stick his matching set-
"We appreciate your compliments, masters. We are just happy to serve," Prowl said in a sweet voice, and inclining his helm in deference. Jazz felt his spark swell and bit back the bitter taste he had in his mouth and smiled as well. He knew Prowl had said the right thing when he heard some "awws" from their small crowd.
However, he wasn't sure their vocalizations were in relation to his affection for his lover or if they were for his and Prowls obedient subservience.
Soundwave had been whisked away by an Android who led him to a corner of the room, anointed with large plush chairs where three large Quintessons and their attendants watched him carefully. They had the tell-tale signs of having multiple switching masks.
Ah. Judges. He wondered when this would happen.
"SW-17. It has been a long time. Do you remember us?"
Soundwave inclined his helm in what he knew was perceived as deference. "SW-17: Remembers the Judges," he said.
"Still sporting that annoying vocal tick, I see," said the one to the left. He remembered her name was Justitia.
Soundwave straightened. "SW-17 vocal patterns were styled at the behest of Judge Licentus," he replied, smirking under his faceplate.
The name had the reaction he had hoped for.
Justitia dropped her drink and some of it splattered on Soundwave. The other two judges made noises of disgust and offense. "You dare speak his name to us?" Judge Sevax said, shaking his fisted tentacles at the tape-deck. "You who was instrumental to his murder?"
"Is speaking the truth illegal now?" came another voice beside Soundwave.
It was the Judge Adveraros. He was the only one that could actually be called fair of the four of them. Soundwave inclined his head at the newcomer. Sevax still seemed incensed but he did force himself to relax further into his chair. "And besides," Adveraros said, "SW-17 was never formally accused for Licentus's death. I wonder why you bring it up now."
"Maybe he should be," Justitia said as an android was wiping up the spilled drink off the floor beside her. "He's only been mildly entertaining in the games thus far. I thought a former gladiator would be much more fun," she spat haughtily.
"Apologies, Judge Justitia," Soundwave monotoned. "SW-17 will endeavor to make brushes with death more appealing."
If she noticed the sarcasm, she didn't let on. She actually seemed happy with his response after giving him a quick nod.
Adveraros turned to Soundwave. "SW-17, if I may have a word," he said gently.
Soundwave bowed to the judges at his waist and turned around to follow Adveraros who had a laughing mask on his face.
They were far enough away from the other judges who began to talk amongst themselves, entertained now and not focused on them. "I wonder why you antagonize them when you know they want you dead, my former court-reporter."
Soundwave inclined his head. "If the Judges want SW-17 terminated, who can stop them?" he replied, his visor flashing.
"Not all the Judges want you on a trial. Licentus was not… He was particularly unjust to the mechs in his employ. No one misses him. They do miss throwing their weight around to Transformers though."
His words sounded kind, but Adveraros was a fair judge and still dangerous. And Soundwave had murdered Licentus, so it didn't really matter anyway. Still, he heard the word of caution that was being expressed to him.
"Apologies, Judge Adveraros. But why does the welfare of SW-17 matter?"
Adveraros tilted his head a little at Soundwave, and the tape-deck felt his intakes lurch. "They want to you to get SS-22 up to speed on what the Quintessons want from him. It might be easier for his psyche if you are the one to break the news to him."
Soundwave froze, his processor reeling. "He is not strong enough," he replied almost a whisper.
"Well then every little bit of encouragement will help, won't it SW-17?" Adveraros clasped his tentacles behind his back. "You will know when it is the right time. But if he has longer to accept his role, maybe it will be easier on him?"
Soundwave was frozen to the spot as he looked down at the ground, trying to settle his mind. His spark burned in his chest and he felt quite ill. He felt Adveraros get very close to him and whisper into his audios. Adveraros had produced a microfiber cloth and was gently wiping away the energon that had splashed on his chassis. Soundwave felt his very plating was starting to crawl. "It will be for the best if you help him, SW-17." He then turned away, leaving Soundwave gasping for intake under his mask.
"So my dear SS-22, tell us, who is Skyfire?"
Starscream's intakes paused for a moment as he tried to keep his face impassive. "Mistress, I'm not sure-"
"Oh come now, we all heard the call," she said, flippantly. "It was all over last night's recap show of the games. You four have each have your own segment now!"
Starscream struggled to reset his vocalizer. "Apologies, Mistress. I did not realize my call was going to have an audience. It was supposed to be a reward-"
"Yes dear, but your privacy was not part of it. We thought you had called Megatron, especially after we heard your interview. But then your calls were leaked. We wanted to see more of what is happening between you and Megatron! But no, you call this random shuttle-class transport, and we just couldn't imagine why! Don't you have a nice seeker boyfriend or girlfriend waiting for you back home?"
Starscream was not often at a loss for words, but this was one of the few times. "I- apologize, Mistress-"
"So who is he?" the Quintesson said, lifting a tentacle under his chin. Her voice had dropped a register, and something in Starscream flipped on. It was like ice-water caught in his energon lines, and he knew he could not resist.
"He was a friend from the Iacon Science Academy," he replied. "We explored the galaxy together, until he was lost in an accident."
"Let me rephrase, little dove," she said sweetly. "Who is he to you? Why did you call him?"
Starscream blinked and felt his breathing stall.
"Oh you are trying to resist it," she said behind her mask, almost a whisper. "That only makes me want to know more."
"Egreata, surely you can stop accosting my only seeker," came the shrill voice of Artuz. The femme Quintesson removed her tentacle from Starscream's chin and he felt the feeling of helplessness fade. He had never been more grateful to their handler than at this moment. "And if you want to know more about his relationships, you could always buy him another phone call home."
Egreata laughed in a trill. "You are such a hard sell, Artuz! But you are absolutely right. If I want something, I'm happy to pay any price."
"Glad to hear it, Egreata. Let's discuss terms."
Starscream was blissfully allowed to take his leave from the conversation and bowed to turn back towards his teammates who were seated in chairs on the far side of the room. Quintessons would come up to take pictures with them and get their autographs. Jazz was doing his best to make up for the less congenial Prowl and Soundwave.
"Ya a'ight, Screamer?" he said as he smiled and waved.
Starscream shivered and was able to plaster on a smile. "Our reward calls were apparently public knowledge," he said.
"Ah," said Jazz. "Did you say something unfortunate during yours?"
Starscream gave a look to Soundwave, who had reached out a servo from his seat and was holding his. Apparently, it had been shaking. "They just seem oddly interested in my… personal relationships."
Soundwave's servo twitched around his. The tape-deck was giving him a look, but Starscream couldn't quite make out what it meant.
They were quiet as the gala began to wind down and finally Artuz came to pick them back up. He looked frazzled. "Well! Nothing egregious that I couldn't handle it," he said warmly. "And SS-22 you will be invited to call Megatron in the morning."
Starscream nodded stiffly as they stood to follow the handler out of the ballroom and back to their quarters.