Been a while, yes? Sorry for not being more prompt. Now that my school year is out, I'm juggling a full-time job with prep-research for my thesis and writing for the other stories I have on this site. Never fear, though. So long as interest remains for this story, it will never die. =) As an aside, I would like to mention that the goal of 200 reviews has been reached. Everyone's enthusiasm for Where You and I Collide is the most amazing and humbling thing I have ever come across. I promise you all that I will make good with my end of the bargain; a steamy Jazz/Prowl one-shot will be written and posted, dedicated to you all. I can't say exactly when it will be posted, but it will be up sometime between now and... infinity. I just have to come up with an appropriate theme for it... ^_^;
My most sincere thanks to those who set aside a few minutes to review this story and empower this humble writer to continue writing: thank you to Optimus Bob, Gatecat, flamingmarsh, renegadewriter, Shizuka Taiyou, Refracted Imagination, Rubyswordmaster, smoking caramels, Gimme-Chan, Faecat, Alangrieal, Marinelife37, phoebe turner, PrancingTiger86, Lecidre, FoghornLeghorn83, Jinx, Tatsumaki-sama, Peacewish, cmdrtekk, ShimmeringJade, KageOkami666, KaraQ, FunkyFish1991, Mirage Shinkiro, Chloo, Imbri of the Moon, Bluebird Soaring, Independent C, Sergeant Duck, Queen of the Red Skittle, Silver-head angel, Dvana, lady_tecuma, ShadowedBlossom, timme, and BoredTech~ You're all too amazing for words. =)
Special mentions to Chloo~ This chapter is dedicated to her for her outstanding enthusiasm in reviewing every chapter a second time to ensure that the goal of 200 reviews was reached. I really did mean 200 including chapter 8, but I'm seriously not complaining! You're amazing, Chloo!
Read, review, and enjoy~!
Chapter 8
"Try and keep up everyone; the warm-up is the easy part." Completely in his element, Prowl smoothly directed his class's warm-up movements. As part of his improvement as an officer in Simfur's Security Response, he had elected to train in the art of circuit-su. The fighting style was a little more exotic than what was mainstream in Simfur, completely divergent from the straightforward subduing techniques he had been programmed with from the start, but Prowl had been sincerely taken by the discipline. He could now boast of being quite proficient at it, which prompted the occasional training session hosted in Iacon's courtyard.
"This is too easy," Trailbreaker laughed, keeping up with ease. He was from Tyger Pax, the original territory to develop circuit-su. Having taken lessons in the discipline in his youth, he was sufficiently familiar with the style. He usually attended training sessions simply for the chance to break the monotony of regular life.
"For you, perhaps," Prowl conceded, and then nodded to Windcharger, who stood a few bots over. "But for others, it is not so easy."
"I've been practising, I swear," the warrior pouted while he executed a badly timed, sadly flawed move. His footwork was especially clumsy, causing several microbots around his feet to scatter in terror.
"Downloading files from Bluestreak does not count as practising," Prowl countered evenly, continuing to lead the session without pause.
"Who said I downloaded him?" Windcharger squeaked, optics shooting wide, while several others laughed. Prowl arched a knowing optic ridge. Now pouting harder than before, Windcharger wondered, "How did you know? Did Bluestreak tell you?"
Bluestreak, who also happened to be off to the side training in a smaller group of more advanced circuit-su students, squawked in protest, "I didn't say anything!"
"For once," someone snorted discreetly.
"There was no need for Bluestreak to say anything," Prowl assured, flowing through yet another move. He was silent for the moment his back was turned to them, and then spoke again when he was facing them. "I've trained several times with Bluestreak. He's an exceptional student of the discipline, but he has certain flaws in his technique that are specific to him. You're mimicking him exactly, which is how I figured out who you downloaded from."
"We're mimics, Prowl. What else do you expect us to do?" Tracks huffed. He was of intermediate skill in circuit-su, able to perform the warm-ups and basics without hassle, but still relied on the innate Cybertronian skill to mimic others in order to carry out more complex moves in rhythm to the rest of the class.
"I expect you to learn," sighed the tactician. "Yes, we're all transformers here and therefore we mimic to learn, which is why I am up here allowing you to mirror me. I am not condemning downloading, and I would encourage anyone having extreme trouble to go to the archives to download a basic, unedited file on circuit-su for proper instruction." His expression turned from blandly neutral to neutrally disapproving. "Downloading from others transformers, on the other hand, takes their physical memories into yourself, including all the provisions they've made to suit their frames. You learn nothing of yourself, of how you must adapt your own frame to the movements, how you must balance your own weight when you move; that you must learn on your own, not from someone else's head."
Windcharger sighed. "I'm never going to get this."
Prowl stopped what he was doing, waving to everyone else to continue without him, while he made his way to the Autobot. "If you say you can't, then you won't. You simply need to adjust your stance," he said, taking hold of the bot and physically adjusting him into the correct stance. While Bluestreak's moves were fine for Bluestreak, Windcharger was built heavier and needed to balance himself differently. Once corrected, Prowl pressed the other mech to follow along with the others, and suddenly Windcharger discovered he wasn't as clumsy as he thought.
"Oh," the Autobot exclaimed, smiling proudly. "That was easy."
Prowl's mouthplates curved subtly. "If you practise properly from now on, you'll only get better."
Prowl's uplifting inspired the rest of the small class to invest themselves more in the discipline. Windcharger was among the converted who tried his hardest to get it right. Now that he was adapting to his own frame's limitations, understanding the movements and balance of circuit-su was a bit easier.
The rest of the session went rather smoothly. Prowl introduced a few offencive moves for his students to memorize and practise amongst themselves, and then he taught several more defencive tactics in order to counter the offencive moves. With enough practise, they would all be sufficient enough in the discipline to be able to defend themselves properly in hand-to-hand combat, should they ever find themselves in such a predicament. There were unfortunate times in war when having an arm that transformed into a gun was no enough, no matter what Ironhide said to the contrary. The Autobots needed skills in other arts aside from just shooting. Most of them were were civilians anyways- painters, technicians, miners, etc.,- with very little experience in the ways of war. What they needed was discipline and order, a mindset of calm calculation and understanding of ones' self and opponents; something to focus their minds and train their frames. Circuit-su was the best chance of instilling those ideals.
Bluestreak and his small group of advanced students moved into the crowd to help with correcting stances and offering to be sparring partners for anyone who needed one.
Despite the fact that war raged around them, it was moments such as this that reminded Prowl that peace, or at least some modicum of it, was not such a statistical impossibility.
A sudden battle cry from the far side of the open courtyard drew several Autobots' attention. There was more than one bot who tensed and drew their weapons. Prowl and his class turned to observe the source of the ruckus, tuning in just in time to witness a blur of red as Sideswipe launched himself at Jazz.
Prowl frowned at the sight, painfully aware that the probability of peace in Iacon was growing smaller by the astrosecond.
It was not that he had forgotten about Jazz per se. He had simply compartmentalized the saboteur's presence for the time being while he gave the majority of his attentions to his fellow Autobots. For the most part, Jazz had been left to his own devices on the other side of the courtyard for the duration of Prowl's session. While trust amongst the majority of the Autobots was still severely strained at best, and completely non-existent at worst, the saboteur had seemingly conceded to toning down a few of his more unnerving habits simply to gain access to socialize. Although Prowl and the Tactical Division were great to interact with and harass, there was only so long of seeing the same faceplate over and over and knowing exactly what they were going to say, think, and do before a mech couldn't take it anymore. In exchange for having greater, though still limited, freedom around Iacon, Jazz stopped hacking into duty rosters to rearrange them. He even stopped turning on his Decepticon signature modulator so that the base stopped going into lockdown every time it picked up the "intruder." To everyone's relief, Jazz even stopped wandering into random bots' rooms, rummaging through their things, and looming over them as they came online.
Not that giving up those petty entertainments meant he was sacrificing much. He gave up stalking bots while they recharged so he could stalk them while they were online. In a way, the opportunity was its own reward. Red Alert, for one, could no longer walk down a hallway without looking over his shoulder twice as many times as he usually did, and gave into fits of uncontrolled squeaking whenever Jazz was in the same room.
On top of his new freedom to harass the Iacon population, Jazz had seemingly gained a small gang of his own, mostly consisting of bots who found themselves chaffing under Autobot rules. Sideswipe was among the first to openly associate with Jazz, which came as no surprise to anyone. In fact, the mere alliance made everyone else rather uneasy. Sunstreaker initially came into the fold only by default association with his twin, which only resulted in several fights ending with numerous trips to the med bay. While the combatants were largely unharmed, their collateral damage was astounding. The strangest thing was, the more they fought, the more Sunstreaker and Jazz seemed to find even ground. They were equals in the dead arts of trying to kill each other, which seemed to be enough for the basis of an unsteady truce-friendship. Firestar of the femme division was quick to insinuate herself with Jazz, seeing as he once had been one of her favourite patrons when she had functioned as a pleasure bot in Kaon. It wasn't often that the elite forces of the femme division condescended to associate with the regular Autobot forces, but Jazz was the kind of mech who bots made exceptions for all the time. Others, like Dogfight and Blades, gravitated toward the gang because they fit in better with that kind of crowd than with the Autobot population in general.
Having so many capable Autobots with Jazz was something of a double-edged sword; more optics on the saboteur to keep him under control, yet all the more chance for Jazz to corrupt the already questionable warriors.
And, of course, there was the ruckus they always caused when they decided to entertain themselves. Like now.
Sideswipe was no one's fool, especially in a fight. He especially was no fool when he was getting into a sparring match with the likes of Jazz. He struck lightning quick twice- once to the left, once to the right, both of which Jazz dodged easily, though the end result left him open in the middle. Sideswipe took the opening to thrust his first upwards into the saboteur's chest. While the strike was stronger than the initial two feints, it was not strong enough to be called a full assault. It was an overly friendly tap. With a short bark of laughter, he sprung away to assume a battle-ready stance.
"You're good." Jazz smirked, brushing his front off at his own leisure. He hadn't been expecting to be hit at all. Sideswipe was one quick fragger.
"I'm one of the best," Sideswipe replied with a curving smirk of his own.
"We'll see," Jazz purred as he assumed a proper stance for himself. "Ya sure ya wanna fight meh without yer brother guardin' your back?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I can fight just as well as Sunny- I just don't have his temper," Sideswipe said. Sunstreaker wasn't even on base at the moment, having been assigned to a reconnaissance patrol as a precaution against the highly-active and volatile Decepticon presence in the area. Sideswipe was on his own, but certainly not afraid because of it.
"Too bad. A temper probably would'a gave ya an edge." With a short laugh, Jazz shot forward. A split second later, Sideswipe launched his own attack. They collided with a predictably loud, metallic crash. Jazz slammed the side of his forearm lengthwise along Sideswipe's chest; the force of the impact shattered the crystalline covers to the light arrays along Sideswipe's torso. The red warrior was not to be counted out so soon, though; he barely felt the attack as he dealt one of his own. His hands laced together as a makeshift club that came down on the crown of Jazz's head hard enough to summon sparks. Jerking apart, they lashed out again; Sideswipe used the heel of his palm to drive up under Jazz's chin, throwing the saboteur's head back. Jazz clapped Sideswipe's head between his hands, switching on his magnetic generators for a split second to create a feedback loop to disorientate his opponent.
They leaped apart, stumbled, gained their footing, and leaped at each other again.
Their attacks quickly grew more complex and calculating as each got a better idea of the others' fighting style. Where at first they dealt one or two testing attacks to see how the other would react, the longer the match stretched out, the longer they remained exchanging blows before jumping apart. Soon enough, they did not jump apart at all.
Seeing as this was one of the few times Prowl had an unimpeded opportunity to study Sideswipe's fighting style, he did so shrewdly. It was important to have Sideswipe's moves catalogued for future reference, not only to have a better idea of the warrior's abilities, but also to have a better idea of how to defeat him should he or his brother become a threat to the Autobots. What Prowl made note of in the warrior's movements was that Sideswipe, stylistically, was excessively physically violent. He used attacks that would generate the greatest amount of visual damage; clawing at armour, creating dents and gouges, destroying crystalline covers for lights and optics, and slitting energon lines so energon spattered everywhere. For a mech who was reportedly once a gladiator, excessive visual damage would have been a part of the show, and therefore required by the gladiators.
From what Prowl had observed of Sunstreaker in the past, both brothers were similar, though not exact, in their fighting styles. They were most likely trained by the same mentor. However, as the tactician further observed the red twin's sparring match, he detected the influence of Sideswipe's extroverted personality. Whereas Sunstreaker showed psychopathic and berserker tendencies in battle, such as a lack of empathy, lack of remorse, extreme aggression, and gratification in harming others, Sideswipe displayed a more comprehensive blend of compassion meeting calculating warrior. He displayed no signs of reluctance in doing harm to opponents, but did so in a way that quickly put his opponents out of their misery. Prowl made specific note of his conclusions on the red twin; he could fight and kill as violently as his brother, but did so coldly without satisfaction. Sideswipe had more presence of spark in battle.
With one warrior studied, Prowl then decided to make the most of the opportunity to study the other combatant in the match. It was interesting to note that there was very little in the Autobot database on the ex-Decepticon's hand-to-hand combat abilities. Most of his profile consisted of a list of his considerable and diverse talents in warfare, cross-referenced with dire warnings of using extreme caution in the event of an encounter. However, very little referred to actual, first-hand documentation of Decepticon Jazz's abilities. Ominously, the majority of individuals who had gotten close enough for first-hand information were dead. All except for Prowl himself. And now, in an unprecedented turn of events, Jazz was now giving an open demonstration of his abilities to a significant portion of Iacon's Autobots. For a bot so secretive, the choice to spar so publicly was a calculated move rather than a spontaneous bid to relieve boredom. Whatever the reason, it was lost on Prowl.
Shifting his weight subtly between his feet, the tactical commander canted his head in consideration of what he was seeing. Jazz was, unsurprisingly, a highly skilled warrior. He was able to match Sideswipe blow for blow, deal his own, and still maintain a measure of aloofness that belied his superior fighting skill. For someone so wildly disorientating in behaviour, the saboteur demonstrated remarkable refinement in his fighting style; it was both bizarrely suiting of him and disturbingly incongruous. To be perfectly honest, it appeared as if his whole chaotic personality had been subverted yet expanded. It was illogical, made Prowl's head hurt, and still managed to make an odd kind of sense. The style was still recognizably "Jazz" in its fluidity and grace, yet at the same time was extremely disciplined and practised. Jazz, by nature or design, was usually an impromptu experience in stylized pandemonium.
This facet of Jazz, a warrior focused solely on testing himself against a "friendly" opponent, was both invested in the match and detached from it. He moved in the manner of a bot who was highly trained in a specific way to move. At odds with the very nature of his personality, no movement was in excess, no attack without purpose. Sideswipe proved a challenge because their styles conflicted so wildly- the difference between classless street-fighting and the demonstration of an ancient art form.
There was a method to this form of Jazz's madness, and Prowl recognized it for what it was: circuit-su.
The tactician shook his head minutely, suddenly understanding the whole fiasco. If Jazz was trained in the discipline, of course he wouldn't miss the opportunity to upstage every bot in the vicinity. It was in his nature to be the best and not hide the fact. He probably had been offended by how poorly the Autobots had been treating the circuit-su lesson.
The longer Prowl watched, the more obvious it became that what Jazz and Sideswipe probably considered a friendly sparring match was what most would consider a no holds barred fight to the death. While it was unlikely the Autobots in general would greatly miss either bot should they die, the chaos that would ensue would be tremendous. The thought of the reports that would be required in the aftermath were enough to give Prowl a headache. There was only one option to proceed, which was to end the match before anyone died.
Prowl cast a quick glance around to see if he could secure backup for the task. Unfortunately, the attentions of his entire circuit-su class were now focused on the sparring match. A further evaluation of the courtyard revealed that not only were those practising circuit-su investing their attention in the spectacle, but all other personnel within the vicinity as well. To his utmost incredulity, Optimus Prime and the base commander/2IC of the Autobots, Ultra Magnus, had stopped in the windowed corridor wrapping around the courtyard in order to observe what was going on. Of all the lax, improper, absolutely un-Prime-like things to be doing! It nearly sizzled Prowl's circuits just thinking about it!
Bristling in irritation, Prowl made a beeline across the courtyard for the battling duo.
"Cease this immediately," he ordered. "You're doing nothing but making a spectacle of yourselves and distracting everyone else from their own tasks. If you are going to spar, then I suggest you take it inside to one of the training ranges."
Unsurprisingly, he was ignored.
Sideswipe laughed at something, only to end up faltering. Jazz took advantage of the distraction, grabbing the red mech by the horns and dragging him to the ground. He then jumped on the downed bot and twisted him limbs behind his back in a way that demanded immediate surrender.
"If ya had had a temper like Sunny, ya might have stood a chance," teased the silver minibot. "You're too nice, Sides. Too soft."
"Frag off," Sideswipe growled, trying to buck the other mech off. When that failed, he simply shed his warrior's persona and readopted the caricature he usually played. With a great, dramatic sigh, he exclaimed, "That's not fair! You double-teamed me with Prowl! He distracted me!"
"Ah don't play fair," Jazz replied, tightening his grip on Sideswipe's arms until it was sure to hurt. "If this had been real battle, you'd be dead. Now be a big bot and except your total humiliation and defeat."
Sideswipe refused, struggling wildly.
Prowl's mood soured further the longer the pair continued to ignore him. Worse yet, he heard muffled laughter somewhere behind him. Not liking the idea of being laughed at, especially by onlooking subordinates, the tactician decided that he was going to have to be more forceful if he wanted the two miscreants to listen to him. Hooking his hand beneath a plate of armour on Jazz's shoulder,doing the same for Sideswipe, he promptly disentangled the pair and hauled them to their feet. Like an errant youngling, Sideswipe shook himself free, brushing his shoulder clean of Prowl-cooties.
"What is your problem now?" he whined. "Jazz and I weren't doing anything against the rules. You can't get all glitchy at us for nothing." He straightened, puffing out his dented chest. "If you were coming over here to save my aft from Jazz, you wasted your time. I was holding my own just fine. A little bit of sparring isn't going to kill me."
"You dying might actually alleviate some of my problems," Prowl stated dryly. "As it stands, you and Jazz were doing far more than simply spar. You were intentionally creating a spectacle so as to disrupt activity in the courtyard. I will not allow it to continue. You will report to the med bay immediately where Ratchet will repair you."
Sideswipe cringed. "Can't you send me to the brig instead?"
Prowl scowled, his gaze darting to the two lurking mechs trying to go unnoticed. They jerked straight the moment Prowl caught their optics. "Dogfight, Blades, escort Sideswipe to the med bay. Immediately."
"Frag it," Sideswipe sighed, allowing himself to be guided away.
With one problem dealt with, the tactical adviser turned to face the second. Unfortunately, before he got the chance to fully face the problem, he was physically assaulted by it. Literally. Two clawed hands shot out, grasped him by the front of his armour, and with all the strength and grace of a master, Jazz flipped him to the ground. As the world stopped spinning, Prowl was left blinking rapidly up at a handsome, smirking faceplate.
"Ya didn't think Ah'd let ya get away with breakin' up mah fight, did ya?" wondered the saboteur, sharp displeasure running in an undercurrent in his fluid voice.
"If you think you're going to get me to apologize, you are sorely mistaken," Prowl replied evenly as he continued to lie flat on his back. There was no way in the pit he was going to show weakness in front of such a large crowd. That was only inviting more trouble later on.
"Then Ah'll have ta get somethin' just as interestin' outta ya," Jazz drawled as he rose to his feet, giving Prowl room to rise as well. The saboteur let his gaze rove the crowd for a moment, as if suddenly becoming aware of how much attention the pair of them were now receiving. If the Autobots had been interested before, they were riveted now. Prowl and Jazz's mind games-cum-mental warfare were infamous around Iacon by now. They were a guaranteed show for anyone lucky enough to watch, as well as a reminder of how dangerous both mechs were.
"You will get nothing out of me, Jazz. I have a class to finish, so if you will excuse me?" Prowl pointedly brushed himself off with every intention of returning to his small circuit-su class.
"A class, huh? Bet that's going great," Jazz drawled, sounding far too interested for his intentions to be completely benign. "How about we give 'em a proper demonstration in circuit-su?"
Prowl heard the impending danger and reacted to it like lightning. Spinning as fast as he could, he raised his arms to block an attack that surely would have put him in the med bay otherwise. His battle computer automatically came on, rapidly analyzing the situation. Jazz repeated the same opening courtesy he did with Sideswipe; attack, fall back, attack again, fall back again. Prowl successfully countered each time, though his defence was shaky as he still reeled from the initial attack. It was only by his exceptional reflexes and battle computer that he remained on his feet instead of on the ground.
Jazz jumped away one last time, assuming a proper fighting stance. "So, what do ya say? We'd make a good match, don't ya think?"
Prowl arched an optic ridge. "Do you ever get tired of propositioning me?"
"Not when ya keep things so interestin'," the silver mech laughed.
Prowl frowned, running through the calculations his battle computer was feeding him. He had the possibilities of a dozen different actions to take and a dozen different reactions for each action. In each scenario, it was inevitable that he fight Jazz. Even if it wasn't, he was bound by honour and damned by pride to accept the challenge. He wasn't going to allow his authority to be questioned in such a public place, especially when the Prime was looking on. Bowing to the pressure, Prowl assumed a stance of his own. Honour dictated that he at least point out the obvious:
"You are damaged. This will be an unfair fight."
Jazz's smirk curled wider. "Thanks for the concern, but it takes a lot more than a few dents ta slow meh down."
"Of course it would." There was no backing down now. All optics were on them. Tension had risen in the courtyard like a storm about to break, crackling in the air like lightning. Having had the opportunity to study Jazz beforehand, Prowl was confident he could hold his own against the mech, However, it was disconcerting to be so public in their first physical match against each other. With so many unknowns involved, Prowl would have preferred a private training range where distractions could be minimized. As it stood, he would simply have to make due with the situation as it was. "Shall I begin, or do you want the honours?"
Jazz settled back, turning his hand palm up with a beckoning gesture. "Come get meh, Prowler. Let's see what ya got."
With basic warm ups done and the exchange of courtesy blows past, Prowl was free to strike into an immediate fight. His first attack was met with a quick defence, and then was retaliated upon. Jazz's sweeping open-palmed slap was batted away, the momentum of which was redirected so that his elbow went for Prowl's faceplate. Prowl ducked, turning so as to ram his shoulder into Jazz's lower chest. He had greater mass then the saboteur, able to force him back a step. Using the minor distance to his advantage, Prowl cocked his fists and swept one across the side of Jazz's faceplate, followed by the other driving the saboteur's chin up. Seemingly stunned for a moment, Jazz stumbled back another step and spat to the side. A small spatter of energon left his mouthplates.
"I warned you this would not be fair," Prowl sighed, prepared to end the match as quickly as it had begun before Jazz was humiliated. He had enough respect for the mech not to want to do that to him.
"Weren't ya listening? Ah don't play fair; Ah don't like fair. That don't mean that we can't still play," Jazz laughed, rushing forward.
This time, they collided like titans. Where they met, sparks erupted. Their choreography was flawless, as if dancing rather than fighting. Two forces of nature moving in tandem. Like living embodiments of vicious harmony- perfect balance to each other, even as they tried to knock the other out. Where one moved, the other would instinctively predict and block. The longer they remained locked together, the more entangled they seemed to become. Both were clearly high-class warriors. They were extremely well trained in the art of circuit-su. Their talents became more and more obvious as they allowed themselves to be swept into the excitement of the match.
There were no missed steps, no fouled moves; they became nothing short of perfect together.
And as they allowed themselves to let go, their violence toward the other increased. Prowl was the first to sustain a considerable wound. Jazz, using his smaller size and superior speed, had managed to get behind him and twist one of the wings of metal that jutted from his back. With a good wrenching pull, it was disconnected from the frame and flung into the crowd. Prepared for such an injury, the neural circuits in the wing were deactivated. Prowl felt not a thing except a need for retaliation. Reaching over himself, he managed to snag Jazz by the horns and drag him off his back. Without remorse, the silver mech was flipped to the ground with Prowl's weight bearing down on his head. His decorative horns were left crushed and his audio receptors sparked from structural damage.
Honour dictated that after exchanging such blows, the combatants back away. They did just that, heaving with the toll their sparring match was taking on them. While their frames bore the marks of battle, their optics glowed with a satisfaction that came from meeting one's perfect adversary.
Prowl rolled his shoulder, feeling off-balance without one of his wings. At the same time, he felt oddly energized. It had been too long since someone had offered such a refreshing challenge. He hadn't realized he had been in need of a proper work out until Jazz called him out.
"Did you plan this from the start?" the tactician wondered quietly, so only he and Jazz would hear as they circled each other.
Jazz's visor flashed brilliantly, matching the lively grin curving his mouthplates. "Ya looked like ya needed ta break out a little."
"That's unusually charitable of you," Prowl said, arching an optic ridge.
"Not really. Ah was bored, too," reasoned the other mech.
As they collided again, Autobots from the surrounding courtyard closed ranks around them. No one dared cheer for fear of breaking whatever spell had befallen the ex-Decepticon and their head tactical adviser. They murmured feverishly, though. Their tides jostled and rustled in attempts to get the best view of the fight. Watching the two titans clash was, perhaps, one of the most mesmerizing things any of the Autobots had ever seen.
"Tell meh, who was your master?" Jazz prompted, locking claws with Prowl for a brief grappling match.
"Yokétron," Prowl grunted, twisting hard to the left to release their hands. He then lunged at Jazz.
Jazz avoided with a quick pivot. "Ah've heard of him- a master in the discipline, wasn't he?"
"Yes." Prowl fell back, letting Jazz press an attack of his own. It was an effort to keep the saboteur from landing his punches. As exhausted as he was, Jazz was still a damnably fast opponent.
"Why'd ya get into circuit-su? Your precinct captain order it?" wondered the saboteur, his easy tone at odds with his vicious attacks.
"I did it because it interested me. There was a kind of order and reason to the discipline that attracted me." Prowl's tone was just as incongruously calm.
"No wonder ya liked it." The silver mech ducked down, sweeping Prowl's legs out from under him. "You're not as good as Ah'd expect ya ta be, though. Why didn't ya finish your training?"
Prowl's faceplate hardened. "Yokétron was killed by one of his other students before I could complete my apprenticeship."
Jazz frowned. "Ah'm... sorry ta hear that."
Prowl remained silent for a moment, unable to process the idea of Jazz feeling sorry for anything. He allowed himself to become distracted from the conversation by their ongoing match. Once a new pattern was established, he asked, "What of yourself? Who trained you?"
"Xerxia," growled Jazz. "Ya could say she taught meh everythin' Ah know."
"I have never heard of that designation."
"She was a little bit before your time," the saboteur laughed mirthlessly. That was the trouble with living so long- you got to a point where everything was always before everyone else's time. "Lucky for meh, though- Ah got ta finish mah trainin' with her."
Prowl's optics shot wide as he realized the repercussions of such a statement. He was outmatched. "You've been toying with me this entire time."
Jazz shrugged. "You're mah favourite toy."
To demonstrate how clearly he had been toying with the tactician, Jazz began to press an attack that Prowl found near-impossible to defend against. A combination of inexperience and growing exhaustion left him open to the looming threat of defeat. The disgrace of being beaten by an ex-Decepticon in front of so many of his peers did not bode well for Prowl. As logical as it was to admit defeat honourably, being spared anymore unnecessary damage, he refused to bow to that fate. He couldn't allow himself to be humiliated. Not like this. Not in front of the Prime, of all bots.
Determination fuelled a new wave of attack from the storm-grey mech. Surprised by it, Jazz wavered for a moment. Prowl's movements changed ever-so-subtly. They were directed by emotion rather than logic. It made him stronger, but more reckless. It was too easy to counter the attacks. No matter how desperately Prowl pressed his attack, Jazz remained with the upper hand.
Perhaps growing too confident with the outcome of the match, the saboteur made the fatal mistake of leaving himself open. Prowl dove on the chance, ramming his hand up under the armour of Jazz's chassis. The force behind the attack drove his fingers deep. He felt the vibrations of Jazz's frame throughout his arm; the pulse of energy from the mech's spark, barely a breath out of reach,made his hand tingle.
For a moment, they stood staring at each other, as if neither could comprehend what had just happened. Jazz was the first to move, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Ah give."
Prowl blinked, taking a moment to process the words. "You do?"
"Yep."
A roaring cheer suddenly broke out from the crowd. Still stunned by his victory, Prowl was unable to resist as he was swept into tide. It wasn't often when he was openly and enthusiastically praised, so to have it given so readily now only served to stun him more. He was patted on the back and shoulders, his hands touched, his designation praised. The small circuit-su class he'd been conducting was the loudest in their rambunctious accolades. Being taught circuit-su by a mech who could kick Jazz's aft suddenly made circuit-su a thousand times more interesting than it had been before. No doubt by the next time a session was held, the story of Prowl's victory would have spread throughout Iacon and there would be a number of new students showing up to learn.
Disoriented by the crushing crowd, Prowl sought refuge at the edge. No easy task, but he eventually found his way out. Excuses of going to the med bay for repairs gave him enough leeway to break away from the worst of it. Jazz, by this time, was at the far end of the courtyard making his way inside. Unsettled by something, Prowl pursued the mech until they could match pace.
"You intentionally left yourself open," stated the tactician. "You threw the match."
"Did Ah?" wondered the saboteur, nonchalant as ever.
They wandered into a quiet corridor together. It was empty, seeing as everyone was now in the courtyard using the opportunity to start a party.
"Why?" Prowl asked. "You're not the kind of mech to take losing so gracefully, let alone volunteer it willingly."
As they walked along the windows, Jazz let his visor rise. He regarded the Autobots outside, how exuberant they now were. Their once-waning confidence in their tactical commander was now restored. Confidence in the tactical commander meant less questioning and prying from others, which, in turn, meant more of Prowl's time Jazz could claim for himself. His white optics then slid to the mech at his side, sizing him up carefully, scrutinizing what he saw. Proud, though a little worse for wear. There hadn't been so much emotion in the tactician's optics since their encounter in the med bay after their arrival in Iacon. Prowl looked invigorated. Satisfied. He was truly the most interesting toy... mech Jazz had ever had the pleasure of toying with.
"Maybe Ah didn't lose at all," he said, smiling enigmatically. "Maybe Ah got exactly what Ah wanted."