Chapter 6: A Stolen Treasure

Half a groon passed without incident. Prowl continued with his work as an Enforcer, Jazz continued with whatever it was he did (every time Prowl asked, he gave rather inconclusive and vague answers – the Praxian figured he really didn't have a set job; many mechs around the city talked of Jazz's help, so it was a logical conclusion to assume the mech simply did odd jobs wherever needed), and life continued on as normal.

The Praxian had contacted Bluestreak a couple times since his arrival in Iacon, and did so in those long decaorns. His brother seemed to be happy with Smokescreen, their cousin, at the moment, so Prowl really had not persisted in his house-hunt as enthusiastically as he had before.

Life in Iacon had settled into a pleasant routine for Prowl and Jazz, one neither of them really wanted to break.

That considered, Jazz really had no reason to disappear.

Prowl really thought nothing of it when he came back to the apartment after a long day and found the silver mech gone. He simply assumed some job or mech had kept him late, and so went to sleep without worry.

In the morning, when Jazz was again absent, he again did not think to worry; his host and roommate kept an irregular schedule, and left early often enough for it not to be strange.

It was that night, when he once again came home to an empty, undisturbed apartment, that he began to worry. Nothing had been moved; no energon was missing from the cupboards; when he peeked into the silver mech's room, the berth covers were undisturbed.

Prowl grabbed a cube of energon and drank it on his way back to the station.

"Prowl, what are-"

"Jazz is missing."

. . .oOo.

The flurry of motion that had broken out after his announcement was not unexpected; Jazz was a good, law-abiding citizen and well-liked by most other residents of the city.

What came as a surprise was the arrival of the Prime.

The massive mech charged into the station mere breems after Prowl himself had arrived, his EM field spiking in distress. "Where is my creation?" he demanded, shoulders stiff, back straight.

Prowl, who had been staring at a map of the city trying to figure out where the mech could have gone off to, immediately felt his processor freeze. Creation? The Prime... Jazz... Creation? Jazz was..? But..! How..?

The Praxian fell over, optics faded white, armor clacking as he shivered.

The world went dark.

. . .oOo.

Prowl woke slowly, processor aching in a very sadly familiar way.

"What made me crash?" he asked as his optics powered back up.

Then he saw the Prime looming somewhere over the backs of his fellow Enforcers, and he remembered.

"Jazz is your creation?" he asked, just to be sure, before anyone could answer his previous question.

The massive mech nodded. "Yes, though he does not like to advertise the fact. He wishes to be treated as a normal citizen of Iacon."

Prowl just nodded as he pushed himself back to his feet.

"We... have news," Barricade said after the Praxian had risen.

Prowl just looked at him.

"Jazz... the Draken has him."

There was silence. Then, "What?"

"The Draken has taken my creation as recompense for the... We..." The Prime faltered, helm turning to the ground. "We have been unable to pay the full amount for some time."

Jazz had been taken by the Draken? Now, this was problematic. Prowl realized suddenly that his armor was bristling and his doorwings were standing in a stiff, proud 'V'. His reactions surprised him slightly. There was a strange sense of... possession when he thought of Jazz, an anger at the monster that had taken him, because who would dare to take what was his?

Revving his engine, Prowl glanced again at the useless map still displayed on the wall, then turned back to the massive Prime.

"The Draken has made a dreadful mistake this orn. I will get Jazz back," Prowl swore, optics glittering with a light those present could only liken to that which lit those of the monster.