Starcrossed 26: Opening Gambit
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Prowl held himself even more properly than usual, his frame and doorwings taut without showing tension. He had not felt this level of stress at meeting someone he already knew since he'd given his first report as a seneschal. Everyone he passed knew what he was here for and many gave him encouraging looks. Radiance had said that Mortar would be happy to sign the recommendation form. Yet there was no way to know until he actually tried.

With a steadying intake and x-vent, Prowl pinged for admittance to the precinct chief's office.

The door opened along with the rumbling, "Come in," from inside the office, revealing Mortar seated behind his desk per usual, scowling down at the disorderly sprawl of datapads in front of him before he lifted his head, and his expression immediately shifted to a warm smile. "Pantera," he greeted, gesturing for him to sit.

Prowl smiled back slightly and complied. "I see the bureaucracy has not improved any."

"Not one bit," Mortar grumbled, held two datapads up, looked bewilderedly between the two, then turned them around for Prowl to see. "Tell me what is the reasoning behind needing a separate report for both a domestic investigation and the same investigation's follow-up and why they cannot just all be in the same slagging document."

"The designer of the system wanted to keep everyone busy entering data and off the streets," Prowl suggested with a touch of dark humor. "Though I believe the actual answer has to do with there not being a designer to the system."

Mortar gusted a huff of agreement, looked at the datapads once more, then tossed them aside into the rest of the pile. "I'd believe that. You want that job? Please tell me you're here because you've realized your life's calling is to rid the planet of bureaucratic redundancy."

Prowl chuckled deeply. "As much as I'd enjoy that, I do not believe there is an opening, much as every working mecha would want there to be. I am here for a job, however." He pulled a datapad from subspace and offered it. "I wish to attend the Academy."

Mortar accepted, skimming the document without fully reading it. "Patrol," he commented, nodding in approval. "Four metacycle course, but gives a solid base to work up from. Excellent choice. Gonna give Radiance a solid thrashing for this if Longsight doesn't get to him first."

"Radiance didn't give me the idea," Prowl promised, though his chuckle did little to make it sound credible. "It does give me a good base. I have also missed working with common mecha, being in a community and being someone they can turn to when there is trouble."

Mortar pretended to look displeased, but the warm pride in his field made the expression futile. "I'll give him a thrashing just in case," he rumbled, and then his scowl smoothed out into open concern. "Before I sign this, I have to ask how things are at home. Academy is going to be hard, even with your frame and processor, I can't emphasize that enough. Support from a mate can help immensely, but trouble will do the opposite."

"As Radiance can attest to, things are good at home," Prowl answered honestly. "Saxo has recovered from his distress and I have recovered from surrendering the sparklings to be raised by others. I'm very grateful that Saxo and Radiance get along. It will make things much easier for me to focus on my studies, knowing that someone he likes is looking out for him."

"From what I haven't heard from all the personal gossip that isn't allowed and doesn't happen, all three of you get along quite well," Mortar said, signing the datapad with a bit of a smile. He started to hand it back, then stopped and pulled it back just as Prowl was about to take it, raising an optic ridge at him. "If my SWAT chief gets too besotted to do his job, you're going to be the one getting a trashing."

"Only if you can catch me," Prowl dared to tease, feeling lighter and more excited about the future than he had in a very long time.

Mortar smiled and chuckled. "I could catch you, just give me a vorn to get my engines back in racing shape. Congratulations, trainee, you've certainly earned this."

"I'm not a trainee yet, sir," Prowl said. "This is just an application."

"Nonsense," Mortar rumbled. "With my signature on there? You'll be accepted in time for the next round." He handed the datapad back over.

"Thank you sir," Prowl responded properly, but the excitement and happiness in his field caressed Mortar's when the datapad changed hands.

"It's my pleasure," Mortar said, with warm honesty. "So, Saxo starts his own training this orn, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Prowl nodded, a mixture of concern and pleasure in his field.

Mortar gave him a sympathetic look. "I know what it's like, to watch a loved one go through that course. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm always more than happy for a reason to avoid my desk work."

Prowl chuckled, then paused. "Who did you have go through it?"

"A very dear friend," Mortar said, nostalgia clear in the tilt of his doorwings as he waved Prowl out the door. "We were raised as brothers. Now go on, you need to get that submitted before this orn's deadline if you want to start next round."

Halfway across the city and deep underground, Jazz stood in a dim room that was empty but for a single chair and the lithe, matte black mech that was circling him, giving him a long, hard, silent look. Jazz held still, calm, unintimidated by the light-looking frame, one that reminded him of his original adult frame.

"So you're my new recruit," the mech finally said, breaking the silence very suddenly. "'Saxo.' Tell me, what makes you so special, Saxo?"

"I handle pain well, I give it better," Jazz said.

"I can teach anyone that," the black mech responded. "Try again."

Jazz shrugged. "Apparently what makes me special is that I don't need to be taught. I've already proven I can handle it."

"Yes, physical pain, at least when you're glitching over giving away the sparkling you carried," the black mech began circling him again. "Physical pain is a great way to distract yourself from how fragged your processors are. Just how did you get so damaged?"

Jazz's doorwings lifted in a barely-discernable tensing of his frame, but one that the other saw easily, as clear to him as the pause before the answer was. "I didn't have a kind teacher."

"Designation," the black mech demanded calmly.

"I don't know it," Jazz said. "You obviously know about the glitch that drove my sparkling away. In an early attempt to prevent it from integrating, the designation was wiped."

"Risky, since you're still hiding from him," the black mech observed, then pushed Jazz into the chair and leaned in, right up against his face. "How do you know I'm not him?" he purred. "That I'm not going to just keep you in this room forever, or until I tire of you at least."

"I know what he looks like," Jazz said. "If you are him, rebuilt, I hardly expect you'd feel compelled to be honest about your designation."

"Then you aren't completely clueless. Good," he purred, lifting a finger to stroke the flat of it under Jazz's jaw and chin. "Describe him. I want to know who to thank. And to tear to shreds should you survive me."

Jazz jerked his head away. "No."

"Yes." He shifted his finger to put the sharp claw tip under the jaw strut. "You will have no secrets from me. Not when you leave this room. You will give them to me, or I will take them."

"I would love to see you try," Jazz said. "Is this supposed to be training or an interrogation?"

A grin spread across matte black features. "A bit of both, but mostly the later. This is about determining if you are worth my time to train. That, in short, is about how much it takes to make you break." He leaned forward and nipped a kiss. "Tell me, did you ever love those little monsters you got rid of?"

"I might have, once," Jazz said, scowling at him. "If I did I can't imagine it anymore. Gonna ask if I remember their designations, too?"

"Nope," he chuckled, his field playing along Jazz's. "But I do wonder what designation you were first known by. How many you've gone through. I may not trust your records, but I can teek how young you are. If you've been in your adult frame a quarter century I'll resign."

That made Jazz's optics widen. He hadn't realized that could be teeked so quickly and easily. "Four vorns," he admitted, seeing no reason to hide that.

"It's a skill, pretty one," the black mech purred, smoothly and easily hiding his intense shock at such youth given what he knew. "No, not many can teek that. This is my function." He paused and stood, giving Jazz a bit of space as he began to pace again. "My secondary one, but it takes up much of my time these vorns. My first function, what I was called to be, care to guess at it?"

Jazz gave him a good, long look, all the way up and down. "You look like you would make an excellent sparkling sitter," he said earnestly.

"Good, a sense of humor," he grinned at his subject. "You'll be fun. Radiance seems to think your best use is an interrogator. Would you agree?"

"Why don't you show me how it's done and then I'll let you know," Jazz said, cocking his head and mirroring the grin.

"As you wish," the dark mech purred. He moved like lighting, slamming Jazz to his back, making him give a quiet, startled grunt at the impact, and then twisted him around to catch both wrists in a tight coil of chain. "Remember, you asked for this," he crooned in Jazz's audial before hauling the larger mech to his pedes with strength that such a small, lithe frame shouldn't have.

Jazz jerked both wrists against the chain, twisting and snapping, finding it held stronger than he ever would have suspected. "Scared for my arms to be free?" he taunted, unsettled by the speed the mech had displayed but not letting it show.

"Hardly," he laughed as he tossed the end over a locking hook and secured it so Jazz was standing on his toe plates. "I'm Whiplash, if he didn't tell you. If you're good enough, I'll teach you everything I know." He came around to catch Jazz's chin so they were staring in each other's optics. "If you aren't, if you break too soon, you probably won't leave this room."

"That's a bluff and we both know it," Jazz snapped at him. "Radiance wouldn't have sent me here otherwise."

"Radiance has his job, I have mine," Whiplash walked around his prey. When he was behind Jazz there was a snapping sound, a supersonic crack. "My job is to make sure any mecha I train will not crack. Will not break. Will not surrender to the enemy or to Primus below." Another supersonic crack and this time Jazz saw it for the black whip that had no doubt given the mech his designation. "In that process there are casualties. It happens. I prefer them to happen early, rather than after I've invested vorns into a subject."

Whiplash came to stand in front of Jazz, the whip in an easy coil in his hand. "The rules are simple. I will do anything I can to break you. I will violate you in any and every way I can imagine. There are only two ways out of this room with your spark still in your frame. Say 'rendono' and it is over. I will see you to our medic. You will be repaired and you will never see my kind again. It is failure. Surrender. Second is to give me the designation you were created with," Whiplash smiled dangerously. "Yes, I am reasonably well aware of just how badly you do not want that information known. It is a death sentence for you and your mate if I read it right."

Jazz couldn't completely stifle the stunned shock that rippled out into his field as he stared at the black mech. "And how will you know I'm not lying, if you don't even believe my records?"

"A very long existence at teeking the truth. I put myself and my teams on the line every vorn based on whether I believe a prisoner is telling me the truth when I don't have the resources to check," Whiplash smiled darkly. "If you can lie and make me believe it, you've earned the right to your secrets."

Jazz regarded him for a moment. "My designation is Saxo," he said.

"It might be, but that's not what I asked," Whiplash danced the sharp tip of the whip across Jazz's bumper. Just a scratch. Just enough to tell the bound mech of Whiplash's skill.

Jazz twitched at it. "It's the designation I was created with," he said flatly. "No reason to hide that."

"We both know better than that," Whiplash snapped his wrist and shattered Jazz's right headlight.

Jazz jerked and arched, hissing sharply. "What's a designation matter, anyway?"

"Many things," he shrugged and snapped his wrist to shatter the other headlight. "Right now, I want it because you are desperate not to tell me."

Another hiss and a wince and Jazz looked at the mech through half-shuttered optics. "I don't believe you would deactivate me," he finally said. "I'm too good. I'm not giving it to you, try as hard as you want."

"We'll see about that," Whiplash snapped the whip's clawed end across Jazz's abdominals.

Jazz was shocked back online with a sharp, cruel twist of a claw in one of his vents and he gasped, the pain slamming back into him. A look at his chronometer-he'd been out for less than a klik-somewhere around three orns since the door had closed and locked him in here-and he groaned.

A hand patted his cheek and he forced his fritzing vision feed to focus and looked scathingly at the mech that was now straddling his hips, apparently having let him drop when he'd been knocked offline.

Whiplash looked gruesome, which meant Jazz had to look worse. It was his spilled energon coating the mech and he knew he was covered with transfluid on top of that. More than that, he hurt. He ached in a way he hadn't felt in vorns, and he so badly wanted to give in, give Whiplash the secret he was trying to pry out, but terror that the mech would turn on him, and the need not to fail at this, kept him holding out.

But he was starting to wonder if the mech really wouldn't deactivate him if he didn't give. He was in bad shape.

"How...long?" he rasped.

"How long until what?" Whiplash asked, looking very comfortable where he was perched over the larger Praxian frame, tracing his claws around seams on his chest in a way that was making Jazz nervous.

"Until...I pass."

Whiplash laughed at him. "Doesn't work like that." One claw wriggled deeper. "Gonna tell me what I want to hear?"

Jazz shook his head.

The mech's field flared out with pleasure that he didn't try to hide, and then there was a pull and the sickening, dizzying burn of fraying, snapped cables as the plate came off, and it finally clicked in Jazz's processor what the mech was trying to do.

"No!" he gasped, and bucked his hips, twisting. A powerful hand slammed him back into the ground. "Stay out of my chest!"

"Really?" Whiplash asked, not stopping, weakening the plating and locks with small, careful strikes and slashes. "You couldn't bring yourself to care about being raped and now this is so important?" He grinned. "Let's see why, pretty one."

"Nn-" Jazz bucked again. "Stop-stop! Leave it alone!"

"Whores should do whatever is wanted of them."

"I'm not a whore," Jazz growled.

"Oh but you are. Spreading your legs for free, less than a gutters buymech. What fragged you so much? Is that why you hide?"

"Slag you," Jazz hissed, and well-armored chest plating started to creak. "Please."

Whiplash ignored him, focused on his work.

Jazz groaned, gathered his strength, and rolled, dislodging the mech, but only for a matter of nanokliks before he was pinned again.

"Is your spark deformed?" Whiplash asked sweetly. "Is that why you couldn't look at that sparkling? Knew he was the same?"

Jazz turned his head to the side, panting and silent.

"Designation, slut."

"Go melt in the Pit," Jazz growled.

"You're going to fail," Whiplash informed him. "I can tell. Give me your designation."

"Strata."

"Try lying better next time," the mate black mech shot back. "Designation. History."

"I can't-I can't!" Jazz almost sobbed when the plating started to buckle, weakening. "Please, my mate could be killed!"

"Inconsequential."

"Just-just promise you won't use it to hurt us," Jazz begged.

"Can't, sunshine."

"Then-"

"Designation."

"But-"

"Whore. Failure. Everything you whispered to yourself alone in the dark is true, that's the thing most mecha try not to believe, but I'm here to tell you they're all true. Glitched-out slut. Shareware. Overloading in gutters from being pounded into the filth. Abused as a sparkling, perhaps? A black market buybit? It would explain the obsession with interfacing. Does Pantera know?"

Jazz growled at him.

"Designation, please," Whiplash said sweetly, and his claws were all the way under the plating, and when he ripped, everything was going to tear apart. Jazz's vents stalled out, and the mech grinned darkly.

"Please," Jazz gasped. "Please, I'll-"

"Designation." A pull.

"No!" Jazz cried. "What do you want to hear, anything, just not-! I-I was created to be sold to a sadist with a seal fetish-he was my teacher, I fell in love with him and his newspark took, I only escaped after I found out what he wanted to do to my sparkling, please, that's the truth!"

Whiplash stilled for a moment, looking at him. "That is the truth," he finally said, then his gaze went dark. "But not what I wanted to know."

One rough pull, and Jazz's world tilted in a dizzying lurch of pain as the plating was torn open.

He felt as much as teeked the shock the rolled through Whiplash's field at what was inside Jazz's chest. Not a deformed spark, but a caged, sealed-off one.

"There aren't half a dozen mecha in existence that can do work like that," Whiplash breathed, allowing his awed respect for the quality of the work to show. "Perhaps only two that could be trusted not to tell who it was installed in."

Jazz's panting slowed and gradually quieted in the moment of stillness as he stared at the mech above him. Damage warnings were flooding his HUD and he was doing his best to ignore them, but he also knew he was only going to survive so much longer without energon. "Please," he whispered, voice laced with static. "Please, I'll tell you, just promise you won't use it to hurt Pantera."

A strangely gentle finger caressed his spark chamber through the holes in the black crystal cage, sending zaps of pleasure into Jazz's broken frame.

"You know I can't do that," Whiplash told him, not-so-privately amazed at the implications of what he was looking at as he began to put the pieces together into a picture he would never have believed in a report.

"If I can't trust you..."

"You're going to have to," Whiplash told him. "You're going to have to trust even when I can't promise you, because I refuse to lie to my agents about what I can not control." He regarded the mangled and desperate mech under him.

Jazz struggled with himself, torn, looking back at him through the glitching vision feed. He couldn't, he couldn't give up that designation. He shook his head.

A smile quirked over Whiplash's lips. "Very well," he murmured, and the gentle, teasing strokes through the blocker over his chamber changed, shifted, and what had been soft pleasure turned into agony. Sensors told him that Whiplash was barely using any pressure, but just that light scratch set his sensornet alight.

"You are not bonded to your mate, like your records say," Whiplash's voice cut through the white-out haze.

"No-I-I-" Jazz gasped.

"You are not a Praxian citizen. Your citizenship should not have been granted. I could have you arrested, torn apart, reported, deported."

Vision was fritzing, he could barely conceive of his frame outside the claws that were starting to dig into the crystal.

"You're going to deactivate," that voice crooned. "After everything you've been through, you're going to deactivate alone and screaming on the floor, Pantera will never know what happened, you just won't ever come home. He'll fade in agony, just as alone, never knowing..."

"No!" Jazz sobbed, writhing. "No-nn-i-it's-I-"

"What's that? I couldn't quite understand you."

A horrifying, shuddering, protoform-spasming scrape over the crystal, a layer of it shredded away beneath the claw.

"Jazz!" he screamed.

Immediately the pain abated, the pressure gone, leaving only echoes of it skittering across Jazz's awareness.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it my young noble?" Whiplash purred.

His vents clicked and spun in broken, uneven cycles, too damaged to move air properly through him. "You can't," Jazz managed, barely a whisper, shivers from energon-deprived systems starting to move through him. "You can't tell, Pantera..."

"Now why would I want to tell, Saxo?" Whiplash asked calmly. "I'd lose the best recruit I've had in ages."

Pain-bright optics flickered up to him. "He'd pay you. You could be the richest mecha on this side of the planet."

"I have much more valuable secrets if I wanted credits," Whiplash pointed out mildly. "So will you, once I've trained you. Mecha in our field cannot be bought. Not without getting their designation on the hunting list for the rest of us."

Jazz nodded, dazed. "Is his on there?" he managed, sure Whiplash would know who he meant.

"No," Whiplash shook his helm. "He hasn't done anything to warrant that kind of attention yet. But I know he'll slip up eventually."

Jazz's half-grin was bordering on delirium. "So I lasted long enough."

"Yep," Whiplash chuckled. "Any questions before I turn you over to our medic?"

"Had you ever 'faced a noble before?"

"Yes," Whiplash turned serious. "I've tortured them, extinguished them as well. Not even they are above us, should the Prime be angered enough."

"Shouldn't...be above you ever," Jazz murmured, optics flickering out. "Diseased class."

"All of Cybertron is diseased, youngling," Whiplash murmured as he started in on the first repairs while he waited for the medic to arrive. "You know that better than most who come here, I think."

Jazz nodded, sighed, and gave into the overwhelming press of fuel loss, head lolling as he dropped into stasis.

Radiance startled out of his light recharge when a hand landed on his shoulder and shook, nearly toppling him over in a completely undignified show as he rapidly oriented and faced the intruder with a glare and an irritated growl, until he saw who it was, and toned the growl down. The glare remained.

"Hey Rad," Whiplash grinned. "What a surprise to find you up here."

"Whiplash," Radiance greeted evenly. He was waiting as deep as he was permitted to go into this base without being summoned, anxious to hear anything about Jazz and how the initial testing had gone.

Whiplash flopped down next to him on the bench. "You found a fun toy for me."

Radiance's cold expression stayed in place. "Does that mean he's alive?"

"Didn't say that, but yeah, he's alive. And by the way," Whiplash said, punching his arm playfully. "Way to go, hookin' up with the young ones. Four vorns, Rad, didn't think you had it in you."

Radiance's visor flickered in a blink. "Four vorns."

"Since his adult upgrades," Whiplash said, nodding, fully enjoying the look that was going across the recruiter's face.

Radiance rebooted his vocalizer a few times as he stood. "Thank you for letting me know he survived. I'm going to let his mate know, he's going to worry himself into a glitch if he doesn't hear anything soon."

"Take care!" Whiplash called after him. "Let him know he's in the hospital if he wants to visit, they'll let him in."

Radiance found Prowl in his new temporary residence at the Enforcer Academy, walking back from that orn's training to his shared room. He fell into place behind him, then swung an arm around his shoulders and ducked him around a corner. Prowl stiffened, then relaxed when he realized who it was. "Saxo?"

Radiance nodded. "Yeah, he got through the initial testing," he said, then lowered his voice. "Did you know he's only four?" he exclaimed.

"Yes," Prowl nodded, frame and field relaxing at the knowledge that his mate was alive and relatively safe. "There is very little I don't know. Much of it is information we aren't ready to talk about. We like you, Radiance. You are our lover. We are not ready for it to be more."

"Neither am I," Radiance said, a little startled. "I just...four? I knew he was young but I thought...half century, maybe." He huffed, annoyed with himself for not pinning the age better.

"I'm fairly sure he would have told you if you asked," Prowl tried to smooth it over. "We never hid that he was young. But don't feel bad," he leaned into his lover a bit. "He usually acts a lot older than he is. Can I see him?"

Radiance nodded. "He's in the hospital-their hospital, that is. If you have some free joors right now I can show you there, but I really need to get back to work, so if not you'll have to find it yourself."

"I am done for the orn. I have nine joors until I am expected anywhere," Prowl nodded, eager to see Jazz, to reassure himself that his love was going to recover. "Please," he added softly with a motion towards the main road.

Radiance touched their helms together briefly, and nodded again. "Follow, it isn't too far from here."

Radiance didn't speak during the drive over, following Prowl's quiet mood, and left him at the door after a brief encouraging murmur and flare of his field.

The building was inconspicuous, but as Prowl stepped to the door, there was a pause before it opened, the delay of someone IDing him before allowing him entrance. Once inside, he was faced with an open room with a hall leading off of it, and one mech standing there. "If you'll follow me," he said kindly. "Your mate is recharging, but you are welcome to wait with him."

"Thank you," Prowl canted his doorwings and helm politely and followed the mech. He didn't ask questions. He knew why and how his mate was here. He was led down several floors and through identical hallways, until the mech stopped at a door and palmed it open.

"Please do not leave this room on your own. There is a comm just inside and when you press it, another escort will be here to lead you out. Take as long as you would like." He stepped back, let Prowl enter, and the door closed and locked behind him.

Jazz was on the single berth, optics offlined and covered in fresh repairs, the most notable of them being on his chest plate, large fresh welding lines crossing the plating that would need to be smoothed down later once everything had fully reconnected and formed back in. The rest of his frame was littered with similar welds. Jazz was going to be very, very sore.

When Prowl stepped close enough to mesh fields he teeked his mate's residual satisfaction and brought a chair over to sit in as he waited for Jazz to wake, or it was time for him to leave for class, but almost as soon as their fields relaxed against each other Prowl heard systems starting to boot, and a few kliks later, Jazz's optics were flickering on.

"Pantera," he murmured, reaching up to his mate's neck. Prowl leaned into the contact and the kiss it was demanding with grateful submission and pride.

"Love you, Saxo," he whispered when their mouths finally parted. "I understand you did well."

Jazz hummed softly and kept Prowl pulled close, touching their helms together. "Need to learn to do better, though."

"You will," Prowl was confident of it. "You learn everything you set yourself to."

"Mm. How's...um...Academy," Jazz asked. "Mortar signed off on your application, right? You got in this round?"

"It is good, if dull," Prowl chuckled softly. "Yes, he sighed off and I got in. The medic was surprised at my grade of construction, but since it meant he didn't have to upgrade me, he was happy about it. I have a suspicion that I know more than some of my instructors, but I'm not telling them that."

That got a smile out of Jazz. "That is because my mate has the fastest processor in this city," he hummed, trilling with pride. "I'm happy for you, my love."

"Thank you," Prowl leaned in for a quick kiss. "I hope your training program makes you as content with existence as mine is. I have missed being a social pillar."

"By social pillar, of course, you mean fun-killing rule-enforcer," Jazz teased fondly, the harmonics beneath his voice full of adoration. He sobered. "I hope it does too. So far it's...reminded me of everything I never wanted to be. And why I would still choose this in a sparkpulse."

"If it gives you what you need, even if it is not what you wanted, it is a good thing," Prowl murmured, stroking Jazz's cheek affectionately. "And yes, of course I mean fun-killing, every watchful, scary rule-enforcer that everyone knows they can trust to be fair and listen. Have they told you how long your training will be?"

"The full course is nine vorns," Jazz said. "There'll be some metacycles when I don't come home." He nuzzled into Prowl's hand.

"Will you be able to warn me when that will happen?" Prowl asked softly. The idea made his spark contract, but he could bury himself in work and survive. He'd been alone much of his existence. He knew how, and ... he did have Radiance.

"Not sure," Jazz murmured. "I'll try. Pretty strict comm allowances, too," he sighed, and looked up at his lover. "I would give anything to have a spark bond to you."

"We will," Prowl promised, though the tension rose sharply in his field. "He knows?"

Jazz answered with a wry smile as he traced the welding on his chest. "My trainer? He knows everything." He glanced around the room. "Said it was safe to talk in these, but..." His dataport spiraled open. "Prefer this."

"Familiar," Prowl nodded, relaxing as he plugged into his lover. ~Safe. I will miss you deeply when you are gone, my love.~

~As will I,~ Jazz said, sighing with contentment to feel the closeness of the hardline, firewalls lowered down to the innermost cores, systems fully peripheral. ~Said my designation out loud for the first time in ... vorns. Felt so strange.~

~I'm sure,~ Prowl continued to stroke Jazz's cheek as he settled into a position that he could recharge in, sitting in the chair with his upper chassis braced on the berth. ~Hard to believe everything that's happened so quickly. We only left two vorns ago. Now we have the beginning of a real existence. We won't need to run again, most likely. Not if we remain careful. Have you seen what I'll look like on graduation?~ he couldn't help the small flare of excitement as he offered up the two upgrade stages. The first with an Enforcer alt but unarmed and in his current dark colors, the next as a full Enforcer, black and white colors, shoulder mounted missiles and all.

~Impressive,~ Jazz purred, snuggling as close to his mate as he could get. ~Though I hope those come off, you're gonna be hard ta pin otherwise.~

Prowl's engine gave a heady rev. ~They don't come off, but they do transform into storage. Don't worry, I'm not going to give up our games over a frame mod.~

~Good,~ Jazz said firmly, then smiled a little bitterly. ~Looks like it's going to be me who's grateful that Radiance is around for you when I'm too busy for a while, instead of the other way around.~

~Such is fair, and the peace that is triad,~ Prowl shared thoughts passed down to him in coding that he'd never actually known. ~You deserve a full existence, not one bound solely to me.~

~I will always be bound to you,~ Jazz said, nuzzling him. ~We just have to get some business taken care of.~

The graduation ceremony was nearing its end before a dark form slipped through the crowds and sat down next to Jazz.

::There you are,:: Jazz said. ::I was worried they would get to him before you got here.::

::Work,:: Radiance said, frowning, wings held up high and tense. ::Didn't want to miss this, though.::

Jazz smiled at their occasional lover. They knew perfectly well that if not for the restrictions they'd placed on speed, Radiance would have already started courting them, which left the mech with a century or so to wait and prove he was even courting material. ::He's near the end, you haven't missed him.::

::I'm not surprised. He's too exceptional not to earn a special commendation.:: Radiance smiled at Jazz before focusing on the stage as the six mecha who had earned public comments on their potential came out.

Jazz's optics brightened the moment Prowl stepped forward, third in line, with his new black and white patrol markings and the fresh polish that made his armor gleam in the sunlight. The shoulder-mounted launchers were on display for the ceremony, and mixed in with everything else, made for a damn impressive looking mech.

Jazz's engines immediately kicked up into a low purr, earning himself a chuckle from Radiance, who was also watching Prowl with a bit of an impressed smile.

::He's gorgeous,:: Jazz said, shivering.

::Agreed,:: Radiance grinned at him before focusing back on the mech they both desired, listing as the two ahead of him, one a new sergeant, the other a detective. Prowl was the best of the new recruits. ::Impressive in so many ways. I've never met a mech as exceptional as Pantera.::

Jazz hummed his agreement, not even hearing the speaker as he talked about the accomplishments of the first two mecha before moving on to Prowl. ::And of all the things he could do,:: Jazz said, shaking his head fondly, ::He chooses to become a pillar of society.::

::And do so from the bottom,:: Radiance added. ::He's more than good enough to go right to officer or detective. He was created to serve, I think. Created to be of middle rank, never the commander, never the guttersmech.::

Jazz's gaze flickered over to Radiance for a moment before shifting back to Prowl, who was thanking the speaker and accepting his badge before walking over to join the first two, as the next graduate stepped forward. ::He is a skilled organizer and supervisor, and disciplinarian. But you're right. He has never desired true leadership.::

::Do you know if he was kindled or sparked?:: Radiance asked, careful to include the harmonics that Jazz did not need to answer.

::Kindled,:: Jazz said, smiling as he saw Prowl's gaze roaming the crowd, searching him out.

Radiance hummed and dropped that theory. He smiled as he met Prowl's now red gaze, unsurprised when it returned to Jazz after only a brief acknowledgement. He had a long way to go before he was truly part of what they shared, but he was glad just to have a chance at it.

::I think I am going to enjoy congratulating him,:: Jazz purred a little while later as the ceremony concluded.

::I'm sure he'll enjoy it very much,:: Radiance accepted his exclusion gracefully as they rose to work their way towards Prowl, who was working his way towards them.

"Hello, love," Jazz purred, drawing his mate into a deep kiss as soon as they reached him. "I do believe I have the most handsome mech in this city as my very own."

"I'm glad you approve," Prowl's purr was deeper, his engine upgraded and fine-tuned a bit. His field expressed a bit of embarrassment at the complement, but also that he liked it. "You're looking whole and sane."

"So far," Jazz grinned, completely ignoring Radiance in his focus on Prowl. "Do you have some free time now? I've got three joors before I need to leave."

Prowl nodded. "My first shift doesn't begin for two orns." He leaned in for a warm kiss before shifting to give Radiance a quick kiss and accepted the pat on the shoulder before the black mech left, then focused on Jazz. "Where do you wish to go?"

"How pissed would your roommates be if we were in there?" Jazz asked. "They have the rest of the orn to pack and clear out, three joors is nothing."

"They wouldn't care," Prowl chuckled, already guiding his mate towards the academy barracks. "But they aren't likely to leave if they walk in. Breaker will just ignore us. Venatio and Agito will just settle in to watch."

"As long as they don't touch," Jazz purred. "You're all mine right now."

"I doubt either of them are that crazy," Prowl chuckled, stealing another kiss and reveling in the attention of his mate.

Radiance chimed politely at the door, waited a few nanokliks, and then grinned as the predictable comm ping came in.

::What are you doing chiming at the door like a stranger!:: came the exasperated voice of his creator. ::You have the entrance codes, get up here!::

Radiance chuckled as he entered the code and stepped inside. ::This is not my residence anymore,:: he said as he headed up towards the second level of the private home and the small sitting room where he knew he would find Contact. ::Nor has it been for centuries. It would be impolite to enter unannounced, you raised me better than that.::

::I raised you to visit your creators more often is what I did,:: Contact grumbled, but as Radiance entered the room, he found the mech waiting for him with a smile and open arms.

"Hello Contact," he said warmly, happily stepping into the embrace.

"It is wonderful to see you, dear spark," Contact said, squeezing him. "Though I'm afraid it's just me you'll find here tonight."

"That's all right," Radiance assured him, and walked his creator back to the lounge he'd been resting on, moving the novel he'd been reading out of the way before sitting. "It's you I was hoping to find, anyway."

Contact's field flared out warmly and he all but preened. "Can I get you anything? I don't have much on hand at the moment, you should have told me you were coming over, but there are always a few flavors of high grade around, and we might still have some of those copper cakes if Mira didn't notice them before work..."

"I'm fine," Radiance tried to insist, but Contact seemed deaf to that, and after another dozen or so kliks, Radiance was smiling fondly and thanking his creator as he accepted a small cake and a flute of lightly carbonized high grade with a few silver shavings in the bottom.

"So," Contact said as he finally settled himself down, holding a cube of regular high grade. "What brings you all the way out here just to visit me? Because I know it's not just for a visit." He fixed his creation with a stern look.

"Why can't it just be for a visit?" Radiance asked indignantly, and when the only response was a raised optic ridge, he huffed. "All right... actually, it's because I need advice."

Contact looked delighted. "I don't think you've asked me for advice since you were a mechling," he said. "Ask away."

Radiance nodded, and fidgeted with his high grade. "It's... well, actually, I was wondering about, when you courted Mira and Brava."

"Sweetspark, you know that story," Contact said, bemused.

"Yeah, I know," Radiance said, and sighed. "I know the story, but I don't know what it was like, courting a mated pair. How to go about doing that without, I don't know, making a mess of things. What it feels like trying to win two mecha at once who are already happily mated and don't even really need a third."

There as a pause, and then Contact's optics brightened. "Have you found a pair? Are you courting for a triad?" the dispatcher asked excitedly. "You have no idea how long we've been hoping you would find a triad!"

Radiance winced a little. "Yeah, but just, slow down. There is no courting. Not officially."

"Well what's the problem?" Contact asked, frowning. "If they're not the ones courting you, as long as they're well settled and accept the offer, you should be set."

"That's...that is the problem," Radiance said. "They're not well settled. And the one I would court immediately if he weren't attached is the one I definitely can't court. So I'm waiting."

"How long have they been together?"

Radiance cringed internally. "See... you're about to give me that exasperated creator look, and the problem is, you're really good at the exasperated creator look."

"I won't," Contact said.

Radiance snorted. "Yes, you will."

"No, I won't."

"Fine," Radiance said. "They've been together for five vorns."

"Five-five vorns?"

"And there's the look," Radiance said with a smug smile. "Yep, exasperated creator look."

Contact scowled at him. "Radiance, dearest, a pair at five vorns, you're going to be waiting at least a century before they even know if they're truly mated, much less open to a triad."

"But they are mated," Radiance insisted. "They're more dedicated to each other than almost any pair I've ever met. And, it's bizarre, honestly. I almost have to wonder if there's spark resonance there, because they act like they've known each other their entire lives."

Contact hummed thoughtfully. "Are they aware of your interest?"

"Yes," Radiance affirmed.

"And?"

"And they're open to the idea, but they've made it clear it will be a long time before anything official starts. I've gotten away with some very, very casual courting with the older one, but I don't dare try anything with the younger one, not yet."

"Why not?" Contact questioned. "He's the one you were first interested in, then? He's less settled?"

"Much less settled," Radiance said, and shook his head ruefully. "I don't know the details, but I know that he was abused, and it created a glitch that forced them to give up their sparklings, which caused...problems of its own..."

"They had sparklings at five vorns together?" Contact asked, sounding decidedly suspicious in a very Protective Creator way.

"Not together," Radiance clarified. "They were carrying when they met. Saxo-the younger-he was far too young for whatever happened and it really messed with him."

"How young is he?" Contact asked curiously.

"Er," Radiance said, already half-wincing from the look he knew he was going to get. "Somewhere around six vorns into adult upgrades..."

"Radiance!"

"He doesn't act like it though!" Radiance protested.

"That's practically a mechling!" Contact said. "Mecha that age hardly know what they want for dinner, much less in a mate!"

"This one does," Radiance insisted. "I can't teek his age, and I still have a hard time believing it just from knowing him." He paused. "Though he is kind of like a mechling when it comes to his interfacing. In that insatiable way."

"You've interfaced with him?" Contact asked.

"Them," Radiance corrected. "Always them. And yes. And ... it's good, it's really good. I know he's young and they're new, but I know I want this."

Contact sighed, looking at his creation with a mix of fondness, love, and concern. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, dear spark. I trust you to know what you want, but this sounds so..."

"Crazy?" Radiance supplied.

"Crazy, yes," Contact said, nodding.

Radiance set the high grade and cake down and reached over to clasp his creator's hands warmly in his own. "I'm moving slow. We're all taking our time, none of us want to rush. I see their berth maybe every three metacycles, sometimes less. Saxo isn't even finished with his SpecOp training, and-"

"SpecOp training?" Contact interrupted, startled. "They let a mech his age into that program?"

"I told you he's special. They both are. Pantera's older, but the processor on that mech, Contact, it's incredible the things he can do. I play strategy games against him a couple times a decaorn and I've never won, not once."

Silence.

"Contact?"

"Hang on, I'm torn between being impressed and irritated," Contact grumbled.

Radiance chuckled. "Be impressed. It's no slight against me."

"Hmph. Fine. So you're taking is slow, which sounds good for this situation. What were you wanting advice about?"

"Well, I know the protocol for courting a mated pair, that's easy enough," Radiance said. "Just, what's it like? Does that feeling like you're just sort of on the outside watching go away?"

"It does," Contact said, nodding, smiling gently at his creation. "It can take a while, though, especially if the pair is really well and truly devoted. Even if they both like you, there is a lot of affection to catch up on. And it can really hurt sometimes."

Radiance huffed. "Yeah," he agreed.

"But sweet spark, don't give up," Contact said. "A triad would be so good for you, you're coded and sparked to want one. And especially with your work, having three helps spread everything out and makes it more manageable. When you can't be there, or when you're hurt, they'll have each other." He hesitated. "That's what happened with Nimbus, isn't it," he said quietly, half asking, half stating. "You didn't talk about it much after he left."

"Yeah," Radiance sighed, and gave a stiff, one-shouldered shrug. "It wasn't his fault, there was just too much for him to handle."

"You've got a funny idea of not his fault," Contact said dryly. "As I seem to recall, plans for a bonding were well underway before he started-" He stopped when he saw the look on his creation's face. "That probably isn't your favorite subject."

"Not particularly," Radiance said with a wry smile. "But I don't mind. And it really wasn't all his fault. If I wasn't home enough to realize what was happening, I wasn't home enough for him."

"Regular spark merging with another when you have an intended bonded is not acceptable, no matter what," Contact snarled, his aggressive side making a rare appearance. "You break things off before it even starts, you don't lie about it."

Radiance tilted his head and smiled faintly. "I don't think I've heard you growl like that since I was a mechling."

"Oh, I growled a lot, you just weren't around to hear it," Contact said, then shook his head and huffed fondly, lifting a hand to Radiance's face. "You are entirely too selfless, dear spark."

Radiance grinned. "Yeah, but don't let that get around. I have a reputation to keep up."

Contact gave him a look. "Like that reputation that you're an easy 'face?"

The grin got wider. "You have no idea how much more willing mecha are to go out for a casual drink when they think I'm just a slutty off-duty cop. Get a lot of testimony that way."

Contact frowned. "Yes, but..."

"Contact," Radiance said warmly. "You really think I care what street scum think of me?"

"This pair you're looking at, they respect you?"

"Of course they do," Radiance said.

"Good. Tell me about them," Contact said, happily shifting the conversation back to the future. "What could be wonderful enough to catch my stunning creation's optic."

Radiance chuckled and picked his high grade back up, relaxing back against the lounge as they talked.

Some joors later, he heard voices downstairs and then the sound of his other two creators coming upstairs to join them. He exchanged a smile with Contact, then stood and braced himself.

"Radiance!" came Mira's warm trill as she ran in and caught him in a tight hug. Brava followed right behind and instead of hugging him, cuffed Radiance around the back of the helm.

"What's this about you courting a mechling?" she demanded.

"Contact!" Radiance said, rolling his optics. "I am not courting a mechling. I'm not even courting, and he's an adult."

"Uh-huh," Brava said, heading over to greet Contact with a kiss. "You tell him all about the wringer I put you through?"

Contact smiled as he stroked his mate's helm. "Oh yes," he assured her. "Luckily for him, his pair seems much more open."

"I had to make sure you were worthy of Mira," Brava purred, looking lovingly back over at the other femme and Radiance.

"We're so happy for you," Mira said, nuzzling Radiance. "You'll keep us all updated."

"Of course I will," Radiance promised. "But really, all of you, it is far too early to be celebrating."

"Our sparkling's first possible triad?" Contact said. "It's not possible for it to be too early to celebrate."

"Yes, however I am filthy," Brava announced, straightening. "Chased some drug dealers through the gutters for a while, once I'm clean we can interrogate him. Join me?" she purred as she waltzed over to Mira, stroking a finger under her chin.

Mira purred in response and Contact's wings lifted up as he watched them, his optics brightening tellingly.

"Go on," Radiance chuckled. "I'll wait here. Have you two had dinner yet?"

"Not yet," Brava said.

"Then I'll get something set out, take your time," Radiance said, and headed downstairs, smiling knowingly, to wait as his creators headed to their washrack.