Once again, thank you all so much for your amazing feedback! Without you, this story surely wouldn't be half as amazing! The more love that you readers show, the more effort I want to put into making this story the best it can possibly be! My deepest and most sincere thanks to Optimus Bob, Bluebird Soaring, Katherine, Peacewish, Faecat, Alangrieal, Refracted Imagination, PrancingTiger86, Elita One, renegadewriter8, Flight of Insanity, FunkyFish1991, Marinelife37, Jinx, Randomstrike, KageOkami666, lastditch, Mirage Shinkiro, Anon., Shizuka Taiyou, Lecidre, Cynthia, Chloo, and Pheobe Turner! You're all the best!

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Chapter 4

Jazz onlined the next morning to see the original guards he had roughed up the night before had been found. Their fallen frames were gone from the aisle, granted a fate worse than any Jazz could have given them: off to the med bay for a session with Ratchet.

Curious to see who the Autobots had deigned an appropriate match for him this time, the saboteur stood and strode to the reinstated force field he'd put up upon returning to his cell. He was in luck. Just as he made it to the threshold, the door at the far end of the brig shushed open to admit a pair of mechs that made Jazz's mouthplates curl up in dangerous delight. Oh, this could prove interesting. Yes, indeed, very, very interesting…

Opposed to popular belief, the Autobots were not complete morons. Jazz's new company at least proved that his enemies knew of the right precautions to take with him, even if it took the incapacitation of two guards to get it through their heads. His new guards were the closest things to Decepticons the Autobots had. Ironhide did not count: he was just a pair of cannons with an Autobot attached to them. Who Jazz had now were renowned killers. They were merciless. Sparkless.

Unlike all others on base, Jazz had no doubt that if he tried something with them, they would not hesitate to kill him in cold energon. It was going to be a long, fun orn tormenting them.

"At least Ah know Ah'm not gonna be bored with you two," the saboteur said, loud enough to draw the attention of his new company.

Sideswipe canted his head, first glancing at his twin before meeting Jazz's visor. Not a speck of fear crossed his handsome features. He was cocky for cocky's sake.

"Hello to you, too, Jazz." Snatching a chair that had been overturned in the night's scuffle, he dragged it down to Jazz's cell and sprawled out comfortably in it. He was coolness incarnate, belying a calculated warrior lurking just below the polish of his bright-red paint. "Never thought I'd see you here. Iacon ain't your kind of scene."

Jazz shrugged, putting on the same air of mock-civility. "The same could be said for the both of ya. Ah always thought the next time Ah saw ya, you'd be dead." His gaze slid from Sideswipe to Sunstreaker, sizing the other mech up.

Sunstreaker remained silent, staying near the end of the aisle. He returned Jazz's measuring stare unflinchingly, his optics cutting like ice-cold diamonds. There was no fear. Optics like those didn't tend to reflect much of anything. He was the kind of mech who killed because he wanted to, or was driven to it by some inner demon.

Sideswipe leaned back, stretching out his long legs. "Things happen," he intoned nonchalantly. "You never know where you might end up, right?"

Jazz cast a glance about his cramped, dull cell. "True." He smirked, lounging back on his scarred berth. "Ah didn't think Ah would see such friendly faceplates so far from home, though. What brings ya here, of all places?"

Curiously, Sunstreaker's gaze grew sharper. However, he said not a word. Instead, he gathered the second felled chair and brought it to lean against the opposite wall, behind his brother's shoulder. His glare burned like lasers through the force field. It would have made a lesser mech wither. Jazz was kind of tickled by it.

"No reason in particular," Sideswipe replied, a tad too airily for it to be entirely true.

"Right. Ah don't believe ya."

"That's because you're paranoid. And crazy," Sideswipe helpfully tacked on.

"True and truer." But there was a definite reason why the Twins were not Decepticons, and it definitely was not 'no reason in particular'. In fact, Jazz was pretty sure it had something to do with Sunny, who was the same but different from what he had been as a gladiator. Something tiny and indiscernible was tweaked about the mech, making him differ from the machine he'd been in Kaon. Curiosity drove Jazz to test the limits of the beast. What changed him? What would it take to make him crack? Could he be used? Manipulated?

Sunstreaker, upon realizing Jazz's focus, rumbled darkly. His mouthplates lifted in a subtle snarl meant to deter attention. Unfortunately, the saboteur was only encouraged more. Was it he himself that was offensive, or his Decepticon alliance? Whatever the reason, it went beyond the usual Decepticons-are-evil mindless thought process. He looked like he wanted to take Jazz apart in the most painful ways possible, and then do it again just to make him suffer more.

Whatever could that delightful little reason be for such unfathomable hatred…?

Sideswipe made a noise designed to bring attention back to him, not liking how easily Jazz was riling his twin. "You better get comfortable in there, Jazz. You ain't getting out any time soon."

"So accommodating, ya Autobots," the Decepticon laughed, meaning nothing but the worst.

Sideswipe curled a fake smile. More like a sneer. "Bots like us? We're always trying to be accommodating."

"An' so ya are." The silver mech leaned back, lounging. "Havin' ya here is better than havin' that gun turret ya call a weapons specialist breathin' fire down at meh. He's too easy ta mess with."

Jazz noted Sideswipe's discreet lean to left, unconsciously shielding his twin. It was a clear indication that Sunstreaker was close to being set off, but only if the right triggers were found. Jazz was increasingly becoming interested in finding those triggers.

"The way I see it, you got off easy, especially with that stunt you pulled last night wandering all over the place," Sideswipe intoned. Everyone on base had heard by now: gossip travelled faster than the speed of light around Iacon. "There were three options- one, kill you outright, which Prime and Prowl didn't seem in favour of. Two, have Ironhide come down here, stomp around for a few breems before he shot you, which still didn't sit right with Prime or Prowl. And three, have us come down here and watch you, which Prowl still doesn't like, but at least Prime agreed to it."

Jazz's optic ridge rose, an invisible gesture behind his visor. "Ya volunteered ta come down here?"

Sideswipe made a face. "Not exactly. The acting tactical commander suggested that me and Sunny were best suited to be your sparkling-sitters until Prowl is well enough figure something else out. It was either this, or I had to go directly to Prowl, listen to him nag, and then end up in the cell right next to you."

"Better out there than in here," Jazz admitted. "How is Prowler this mornin', anyways? Did he recharge well?"

Wise enough to know not to answer directly, Sideswipe shrugged. "Well enough, I guess. No thanks to you."

"Now isn't that harsh? Ah'm the one who got him out of Straxis, remember?" the silver mech intoned, a tad condescending.

"For what price?" the red mech snorted. Being a merchant had taught him many things, especially when he had had dealings with the ever-dangerous Jazz. One lesson, in particular, was that there was always a price to be paid. "If I remember correctly, you're not the kind of mech who does anything for free."

"Ya do remember correctly, but mah price is between Prowl an' Ah." A smirk rounded off the answer. "Ya understand, of course, bein' the mech that ya are." It was rewarding to watch Sideswipe's sharp glance to the security camera. No doubt the Autobots knew of the Twins' exploits in their own fields of illegal wrong-doings, but how much had they allowed their faction to know?

Finally, the red mech snorted, looking away. "Whatever, it's not like I care about either one of you."

Jazz smirked wider, his visor flashing. "That's more like the mech Ah knew."

Sideswipe's mouthplates fell into a scowl. "You never knew me in Kaon, and you sure as pit don't know me now."

The silver mech paused for an astrosecond, and then tipped his head back to laugh. The gesture only served to irritate Sideswipe and incense Sunstreaker further. Deciding that enough fun had been had at the pair's expense, Jazz skilfully directed their conversation back into more general waters with a modicum of amiability. Sideswipe, not stupid by any stretch of the imagination, recognized the change and followed appropriately.

Sunstreaker kept aloof of any conversation, ignoring his brother and Jazz completely if a question was directed his way. But just because he wasn't contributing to the semi-friendly exchanges didn't mean he wasn't giving away his fair share of secrets. Being that he was a figure of curiosity for the present Decepticon, a sharp optic was kept on him for much of the time, taking note of what topics garnered what kinds of reactions. Irritation. Rage. Hatred. Disgust. Without even a word, Jazz was learning exactly what made the gladiator tick.

Despite the fact that Iacon's brig was one of the least stimulating places on the planet, the orn passed generally well. Granted, much of what conspired between the Autobot and Decepticon wasn't much more than mock-sincerity, fake smiles, and barely-veiled insults and innuendos that could strip the paint off even the most war-hardened hide. Oddly enough, their amiable hostility created a vague sense of uneasy camaraderie. They were far from equals, but the Twins were the closest things to Decepticons within the entire base. They were interesting. They were enough to appease Jazz for the time being.

It was almost a surprise when the end of the orn came and both Twins rose from their seats.

"Can't say it was fun, but it's been decent," Jazz commented as he watched their retreating backs.

"Better than regular duty," Sideswipe shrugged.

"Am Ah gonna see ya bright an' early tomorrow?" the saboteur enquired, sounding very much like a taunt. He leaned against the corner made by the wall and the force field keeping him in his cell, smirking.

"Yep," the melee warrior replied, doing a few last checks of the force fields to make sure everything was in order. He even checked the security feeds to ensure they hadn't been tampered with… again. What entertained Jazz the most was when the red mech nodded to his Twin, signalling some silent request. Taking a small electromagnetic device out of subspace, of a design Jazz knew not to be Autobot, Sunstreaker discreetly shot two blasts, each into the cameras directly watching the brig's main work station. With the feeds momentarily shorted, Sideswipe quickly began inputting codes of his own into the computer, and then ripped out a side panel to hotwire the circuit boards.

Sunstreaker grunted a warning as the pulse started to wear off.

Appearing over the work station once more, Sideswipe clicked in once last series of codes. The end result caused Jazz's force field to flash bright for an astrosecond, followed by the vague scent of burnt air particles. A burn mark along the floor where the field met metal attested to one of the modifications the Autobot had taken upon himself to make. He probably had had to drain an entire floor of power to get the voltage for it.

"See if that doesn't keep you happy for a while," Sideswipe announced, smirking. He knew that whatever measure he took against Jazz wasn't going to measure up, but just offering the extra challenge was fun enough. He could only hope the offering was enough to appease Jazz from breaking out again and killing whoever came to watch him through the night.

Jazz ghosted his hand over the field, brushing it with a weak magnetic touch. It snapped back at him with a vengeance, nearly searing his palm. He laughed. "Ah'm guessing this ain't exactly Autobot regulation."

"Does it matter?"

"No, only makes meh more curious."

Sideswipe leaned over the console, one optic ridge quirked. "Of what?"

"Why ya got an Autobot insignia painted on ya rather than a Decepticon one."

The light smirk on the red mech's faceplate vanished. His brother tensed, optics narrowing. In the quiet that followed, Sunstreaker's rolling growl rose warningly.

Feeling that now was as good a time as any to test what he thought he knew, Jazz pressed on. With a smooth, knowing smirk, he dutifully told them, "You an' Ah both know yer about as Autobot as Ah am."

"We're not Decepticons," Sideswipe spat, glaring. Whatever brittle connection they had forged crumbled instantly.

"But ya were gonna be, weren't ya?"

"Never-"

"Liar," Jazz sneered. "Ah know what the two of you were like in Kaon. Ya were Decepticons before bots even knew the name."

"Mute it, Jazz," Sideswipe ordered darkly.

The saboteur failed to heed the order. "Ah know how much Megatron favoured ya, an' ya worshipped him right back. Hung on ta his every word, didn't ya? Did as he said, didn't ya? Played his games, acted like his own personal army; you did things that even mechs like meh don't wanna dream of." With each word that passed his mouthplates, the saboteur knew he was plucking more and more neural wires. It wasn't Sideswipe he was interested in, but his twin. "Ya don't want ta be here, on this side," he continued, gaze sliding to Sunstreaker. "Too clean, ain't it? Everyone's too upstandin' an' good an' noble; they fight fer what's right. That ain't your style. That ain't you at all."

Sunstreaker's fists clenched.

Sharp optics caught the tension. A thrill dashed through him, knowing he was on the right track. A little more prodding should be enough to snap him. "Ah could break outta here right now an' tell him ya want in. Megatron'll welcome ya both with open arms- pit, he'll give ya both a parade. Still wants ya on his side, fightin' for him. Always wonders what made ya turn away, why ya fell ta the wrong side-."

A snarl ripped through the air, cutting Jazz off. A blur of gold shot up the aisle, a pair of fists slamming into the force field. The ferocity of the attack combined with the voltage of the field instantly charred the mech's pristine forearms black. The acrid scent of seared paint bloomed.

Jazz tossed his head back and laughed. "Was it somethin' Ah said?"

"Keep talking and I'll make sure you never say another word again," Sunstreaker snarled.

Not one to follow advice, Jazz kept talking. "What's the matter, Sunny? Don't like meh too much? Or not likin' what you're hearin'?"

Sunstreaker growled menacingly.

Jazz leaned in, visor gleaming. "Who did Megatron have to kill for you to hate him so much?"

A louder snarl broke the room, claws slashing out.

"A friend?"

The attack nearly broke through the force field. Also nearly burned Sunstreaker's fingers off…

"A lover, was it?" Jazz goaded, jeering.

A flash of red crossed Sunstreaker's optics as he raised his arm, transformed it into a gun, and aimed for the control panel that individually regulated Jazz's cell. One blast would short out the field and give Sunstreaker the freedom he needed to slash the saboteur to ribbons.

"Sunny, no!" Sideswipe leapt over the work station, straight into the spark of danger as he grappled with his twin to turn the muzzle of the gun elsewhere. "Don't play into him like that! He's messing with you!"

"Yeah, Sunny, Ah'm messing with ya!" Jazz crowed.

Sunstreaker wrenched away from his brother, bristling furiously over Jazz. "You know exactly what Megatron did!"

Jazz waved that off, condescending incarnate. "Megatron's done a lot of things, whelp. Try narrowing the playing field."

"That pit-spawned fragger doesn't give a flying slag about anyone but himself! He bombed the entire ring just to get rid of a few Autobot spies!" Sunstreaker roared. "He murdered his own people! Didn't even think twice about sacrificing all of us! That's what he did!"

Under, around, and between the words, Jazz read unimaginable loss fuelling Sunstreaker's rage. It wasn't all the dead sparks that angered him, though there had been many lost. Just one dead spark that he was attached to. It'd be rather pathetic, if Jazz wasn't set on exploiting this for all it was worth. "So you're gonna take it out on every Decepticon that comes across your path, huh?"

"If you follow him, you're no better than he is!" the golden mech snarled.

"Ah'd like ta think Ah'm a little better looking."

Sunstreaker leaned down to be on par with the saboteur, optics smouldering. "The only reason I'm an Autobot is because it's the farthest thing away from being a Decepticon. One of these orns, I'm going to find Megatron on the battlefield and I'm going to kill him. Push me one more time and Optimus Prime can go frag himself, because I'll kill you, too. I won't even think twice."

The door at the far end of the brig hissed open to admit the four mechs appointed to guard duty for the night. Sensing the tension, they hung back, silent. Sunstreaker gave one last, long glare down at Jazz, which the saboteur met easily. With Sideswipe's beckoning hand on his back, the berserker swung away, cutting a wide path for himself through his fellow Autobots.

Before they were gone, Jazz raised a hand to wave, his mocking smile returned. "See ya bright an' early tomorrow!"

"Sideswipe!"

The red mech froze mid-step, his brother walking ahead two more paces before deciding to stick around in case he needed to support his twin… correction, drag his twin out of trouble.

"I need to speak with you," Prowl said brusquely, said in such a way that it came out like an order.

"Right now?" Sideswipe asked, frowning. "We'll be late for guard duty."

"That can wait," Prowl countered. "No doubt the delay will inform Jazz of the switch in his guardianship."

"But…" Sideswipe glanced around, looking for an out. No doubt he thought his actions the past few orns spreading doubt of Prowl's mental capacities were finally catching up with him.

"Here?" Sunstreaker intoned, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Several curious bots had stopped to peer between the squared off trio. They were either looking forward to the dressing-down Sideswipe was about to publicly receive or wary of what would happen if the psycho-Twins were pushed the wrong way. It was no secret that the Twins were more Decepticon than Autobot. However, no one would ever dare say that to their faceplates. They were among the very few who tested the higher ranking bots to their limits. Prowl was, by far, one of their favourite to torment. To be fair, Prowl seemed to enjoy punishing the Twins in return.

"A more private setting will be more appropriate," the tactician allowed, sending a cursory stare around to the paused Autobots. Taking the hint, everyone who had been standing around waiting for something interesting to happen suddenly found that they had important work to do. Bluestreak quickly broke through the tide, jogged up to Prowl to pat him on the shoulder, and said very quickly, "Welcome back to duty, sir!" before he was swept away again.

"If you will follow me?" he invited, but it was a rhetorical invitation. He expected them to follow.

"Sure… sir."

Prowl looked him over, noting the cagey wariness in the red warrior's optics. Like Jazz, Sideswipe had a calculating mind behind a playful façade, though it lacked in the extreme complexity that Jazz held in his operations. Everything about his stance screamed that he wanted to turn on his heel and escape. As it stood, Prowl needed to speak with him so escape was out of the question.

"This way, please." Turning back the way he came, he let Sideswipe fall into line. Sunstreaker took longer to follow, though eventually ranged behind them at his own pace. He led them to the security room, down in one of the more isolated halls of the base. He allowed the door to shush open and then stepped back to allow the twins in first. There was already a mech within the small confines, seeing to the numerous camera feeds. Even though Red Alert had been fully aware of their approach through the several dozen cameras stationed along the hall, he still jumped when they entered.

"Commander," he greeted hastily, bowing.

"Red Alert," Prowl replied. "Do you mind if I commandeer this room for a short while?

"Oh? Um…I suppose, if you need it… Just don't be long." Red Alert, like Prowl, had once been a Security Response officer, though from a Kaon precinct in the city centre. The city had been ill-suited for a mech so high-strung as he. His paranoia was now a permanently ingrained feature. However, as jumpy as he was, Red Alert could spot danger like no one else; he knew pure danger when he saw it. He was currently staring at the Twins.

Prowl laid a hand to the other mech's shoulder. "I will keep an optic on the cameras, and I assure you they-," meaning the twins, "will not touch anything."

Nodding, Red Alert turned and tapped a sequence into the controls just to make sure no one messed with his settings. "There, it should be fine for now. Just… keep an eye on that one, sir." He nodded to Sideswipe stonily. "All he needs is for you to look away for an astrosecond and he'll reprogram everything."

"One time and they never let you forget it," Sideswipe murmured not-so-quietly to his brother, who smirked.

"Four times," Red Alert corrected tersely. He looked to Prowl seriously. "I read the report- you've been personally appointed guardianship of Jazz. A very wise decision on Prime's part, I believe. You're one of the best tacticians I've seen in a long time." He jerked his head vaguely to the monitors at his back. "I've recorded everything he's done since entering Iacon, so you should have plenty of material to study him." With one last suspicious look back at the twins, he left.

Sideswipe immediately launched into a ramble to save his spark- "Okay, if this has anything to do with rumours concerning you being a crazy, babbling mess coming off the rescue ship, and the fact that I may or may not have started said rumours… There's a perfectly good explanation for it, I swear." He prepared make a real effort for his lie; Prowl could usually spot the shoddy ones. "See, I may have had a couple too cubes of high-grade in Nebula One that orn, so when we all heard that you were back, I may have started to say a couple things. But just that once! And I was so over-energized, I barely had any idea what I was doing! In fact, I hardly remember it! Everything got out of hand after that- you know how it is."

Prowl raised a hand to cease the rambling. "That is not what this is about."

Sideswipe blinked. "…it's not?"

Sunstreaker discreetly snorted.

"No." Prowl frowned. "But as soon as I settle on a disciplinary action suiting for such antics, you will suffer the consequences."

Knowing his fate wasn't being handed to him right away put Sideswipe marginally at ease. "Right… So, what is this about?"

Prowl came abreast of the long spread of video controls. He typed in the codes for all of the brig cameras, focusing on Jazz from several different angles. He was lounging at the back of his cell, looking at ease. His current guards were heavily armed and looking increasingly jumpy the longer they were left waiting for the twins to relieve them of duty.

"Him."

"Oh." Uncomfortable with the intensity of the stare he was being fixed with, Sideswipe dared a quick glace to Sunstreaker, who had transformed into the embodiment of a golden storm cloud. Switching his gaze back to Prowl, he asked, "What do you want to know about him?"

"I want to be better prepared when I face him again; anything to give me the advantage." Bracing his hands against the station behind him, Prowl leaned forward, about to lay his best gamble on the table. "You two are from a similar social stratum as Jazz- your Kaon life, not your youth in Centaurie Tetrax," he quickly intoned, seeing Sideswipe about to object. "You ran in similar social circles, and I am willing to bet that you-," he nodded to Sideswipe, "at least knew each other peripherally. Merchant to… whatever Jazz was."

A quick, short movement caught Prowl's optic. He glanced at Sunstreaker, whose optics had narrowed beyond his normal glare. Prowl didn't tense in return, but he did straighten in challenge. What the public never knew about the twins, Prowl was informed of all too well. All Security Response officers were aware of the underground fight rings that peppered the planet; everyone had a list of suspected fighters and affiliates filed away. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been among the top of the list.

"How much do you know about us?" Sunstreaker growled.

"I know enough," Prowl admitted.

That did not ease the berserker's tension. He continued to glare.

Prowl frowned. "Whatever your pasts happen to be, they are of no concern to me at this moment. No matter what unsavoury or illegal things you did, it was before you joined the Autobots. No one here, save the Prime should he so incline, has any jurisdiction over your past actions." He leaned in towards Sunstreaker, deadly serious. "All I want to know now is if you can give me an edge over Jazz."

"The only kind I could give you is how to kill him before he even knows he was dead." The golden one looked to his brother. "I didn't know the fragger, but Sides had deals with him occasionally."

Sideswipe was all seriousness now. "I don't know what to tell you," he said, though was thinking hard for any detail. "Jazz is… he's always been a hard one to pin down."

"You have been with him every orn, all orn, since he was put in the brig." Prowl brought up several videos displaying Sideswipe and Jazz chatting amiably. "You've been speaking on what looks like even terms."

"That doesn't mean I'm about to go exclusive with him," Sideswipe countered. "That was just talk, you know? To pass the time. Better than being quiet all orn long."

"Sides doesn't do "quiet" very well," Sunstreaker intoned.

Snorting, Sideswipe continued. "Jazz- he's got this way about him. He can talk for joors about anything and everything and make it seem like he's the best expert there is. He can do it all orn if he wants to. But if he doesn't want to give away something about himself, he won't."

Prowl nodded stonily. "He's smart and guarded, I know that."

"He's also the kind of mech who'd backstab you in the faceplate."

Prowl resisted the urge to comment on the illogicality of such a statement. "Is there anything of tactical worth that you can think of?"

Sideswipe crossed his arms, pondering hard. "Not right now, no. Just… don't ever trust him, okay? Ever. Even if it looks like you can, don't. It's probably a trap." He gave a jerky shrug. "If you give me time- I might think of something else."

"Tell me immediately if anything comes to you." The tactician sighed, deciding that this exchange had probably been a waste of time. "Thank you, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker. You're relieved of duty for now. I will be taking over guardianship of Jazz."

"Good luck with that," Sideswipe chuckled wryly, sliding from the room like he couldn't wait to escape. Red Alert waited in the hall, pacing anxiously. As they crossed paths, Sideswipe reached out and patted the fellow Autobot's the back in a pseudo-friendly gesture. He left behind a small device that would emit a sharp, high-pitched frequency every couple breems. Red Alert would be in the med bay suffering another meltdown by the end of the joor.

Sunstreaker did not leave directly behind his brother. Instead, he lingering wraith-like in the open doorway.

"Have you something to add?" Prowl enquired, quirking an optic ridge.

"It's not just trust he has an issue with," Sunstreaker said quietly, his pale optics surpassing even Prowl's iciness. Beyond that was the look of someone who saw more than what they let on. "Jazz… isn't the kind of mech who knows what friends are."

Prowl blinked, carefully processing the enigmatic statement. "I will keep that in mind. Thank you."

With one last, lingering stare, Sunstreaker shrugged and left.