Themmmnm ahh yes the faces yes Jazz is just so *cuteness aggression increases* every time human Prowl does something absolutely normal. Minibot loadbearer Jazz is going to be insufferable and ecstatic at the same time man can’t contain the human cute aggression even in Cybertronian form.
Much, much later in the fic, Prowl will be using this cute aggression to aid him in asking yes or no questions via Jazz nuzzles to his cheek while he and loadbearer Jazz are indisposed/caught. Jazz is living the life (drugged up Jazz who what do you mean he’s all good he gets to nuzzle prowl!) passing along intel to a serious faced Prowl going ‘yes yes I see, now how to turn that in our favor’ based off the nuzzling amounts and intensity of each nuzzle per answer.
After some delay, I have finished editing ch 6 for Topsy Turvy! Posted it on ao3 and here:
Note: No particular warnings that I can think of. HMU if there needs to be any.
-
Not being discovered by enemy scouts while making good progress cross-country was currently high up on Jazz’s list of accomplishments he was proud of attaining now that he was back on Earth.
It was a small smattering of accomplishments, but hey, Jazz would take anything he could get at this point that was a win of sorts.
If only such luck would happen more often, Jazz wouldn’t have to worry about others getting themselves into situations they couldn’t get out of or for Jazz to think he was on one last mission only for-
(Don’t think about the last time)
Focus on the positives!
Like locating a decent hideaway in the form of a warehouse, so that Prowl could unlink from his mecha and get some much needed sleep that he denied needing.
Jazz saw the damage to his mecha, even from before that initial throw down with the small scout and soldier Quintesson party that’d tried to jump them. And in the quiet of the warehouse while Prowl rested, Jazz, unable to let gunfire down enough to recharge as well, made note of the damage done to his Cybertronian frame. He found it interesting, now that he really looked at it, that the damage was similar to what Jazz had happen to Bebop, only not as catastrophic as it would be to the mecha.
Had the damage carried over to different bodies?
How did that work?
Really, what the hell had happened with that Quint portal and the weapons some of them had used in that moment?
Jazz cast his gaze around the darkened warehouse; he’d have to ask Perceptor about it sometime, if he ever managed to get back to Cybertron where he and Wheeljack had begun to collaborate. Of the duo was able to somehow travel to Earth.
Jazz tapped a pede, restless as he attempted to recall how many groups had been scattered about running missions the same as him and Prowl. Jazz didn’t realize he ended up so deep in thought until Prowl awakened, mecha chest open as he looked up.
“Jazz?”
“Mornin’ Prowler.” Jazz greeted as he sent the ‘how many people were out in missions’ to the back of his processor as he turned his helm to Prowl, visor brightening.
“You didn’t go to recharge.”
A statement.
“Now why would ya think that?”
“Your visor is brighter in saturation, indicating power rerouting to run other processes.” Prowl returned, as he began the arduous journey climbing down to the floor of the warehouse. Then, dryly. “And you are slumped against the wall of the warehouse, which is currently bending under the strain.”
Jazz sat himself up at that, armor flexing as he did, and paused mid-shift to the side to prevent himself from smooshing a sporty car that…
Wait!
“Prowl!” Jazz let out a sudden ex-vent as he snapped his helm to look down back at his partner, now on his mecha’s foot. “I can have an alt mode now, can’t I?”
“Yes, that is correct, as a Cybertronian, you do now possess the ability to transform.” Prowl is very small from where he is currently perched. “Why do you ask now?”
“We need supplies for you, and we can be more stealthy if I drove to the nearest city from here, and give ya a bit of a break from the neural link. So long as there ain’t any enemies showin’ up.” Jazz said with a little shrug, evading the earlier question about recharge.
”We did discuss this as we took shelter inside this place.” From the look Prowl gave him he noticed, but let it slide, for now. “Do you believe the nearest city will have enough areas to scavenge for such supplies, if necessary?”
“Big enough there should be somethin’ left to find.” Jazz startled Prowl into a flinch when he let out a loud exclamation of another realization. “Prowl!”
“Yes, Jazz?”
“I got an alt mode now, don’t I?” Jazz could feel his engine rev, doubling the excitement he felt.
“Yes, as a Cybertronian, you do have the ability” Prowl agreed, a small smile passing across lips as he watched Jazz practically vibrate on the spot. “There should be specifications of how to do what comes naturally in one of the informational data packets I sent to you yesterday.” Prowl watched Jazz start to move toward some of the cars that had been stored in the warehouse. “That is, if you require any explanation on how it feels to scan and transform into your alt mode.”
Jazz located a vehicle that looked like it ought to fit the parameters of his Cybertronian form and eagerly scanned it. The transformation process right after was surprisingly instinctive that Jazz didn’t need to think about it.
At first.
Jazz couldn’t help but let out a laugh when he abruptly stopped partway through the transformation. “A little help here, Prowler?”
“Do not think so too hard about it.” Prowler responded. “Let your frame finish changing shape.”
Not entirely helpful but Jazz did take a moment to consider the odd sensation that there’s more than his big Cybertronian form to consider. But the thought was there and gone because the distraction was apparently enough for something to click. Jazz finished transforming into the vehicle he’d scanned, a sleek white car with a red and blue stripe and a few light blue highlights here and there. Cautiously, then with more of the initial excitement, Jazz realized that driving his alt mode around felt comparable to piloting Bebop.
Giddy with his new alt mode form, Jazz began to drive careful donuts around Prowl, who’d come out of his mecha and clambered down via ladder and careful jumps. Jazz slowed further to wiggle his front tires, delighted over the responsiveness in his own body despite being a car. Jazz teasingly wagged his bumper back and forth by swerving those tires as he drove a wider circle around Prowl, who watched him with faint amusement, wearing those glasses again.
“Have you seen the scans of the nearest human city?” Prowl asked, by the time Jazz came to a complete halt nearby.
“Yeah, it looked like there’d be a good chance to get some supplies for you.” Jazz carefully bonked Prowl with the driver’s side door, grinning unseen from the distracted pat Prowl gave the door. He was staring off into the distance as if looking at data, only to blink in confusion, then exasperation.
“It is inconvenient for humans to be unable to access data from their processor while not hooked up to a mecha.” Prowl made a disgruntled noise as he looked to Jazz. “And even then, how can humans stand having only being able to use a rudimentary HUD when wearing the pilot helmet?”
“We haven’t reached neural implants in the brain on Earth that would be able to do that.” Jazz lamented, as he attempted to take his mind off just how easily his own processor was running, delegating certain trains of thought to the deepest parts of said processor, never to be looked at again. If he’d had this as a human, Jazz would be hiding so much trauma that it’d concern anyone who knew him for ‘repressing’ instead of ‘processing’. And just like that, Jazz focused on the city and not what his mind was or wasn’t focusing on. “Looks like there’d ain’t any sign of human activity in a 15 mile radius from where we are.” Jazz lightly thwacked Prowl with his car door again. “How about you take me out on a spin, Prowler? Let’s go check out what supplies are around, including food that isn’t bland and tasteless.”
“It would be useful to have food that tastes palatable.” From the way Prowl faintly grimaced, he must be recalling the unpleasant texture and taste.
Jazz didn’t blame him; that shit they gave the mecha pilots was barely passable as food but was easier to make and doll out in short notice.
“And the timing is currently the best we have in terms of there being no other humans to question us or Quintesson forces to deal with.” Prowl looked to Jazz’s alt mode. “We will have to be certain to remain alert in case they have to retreat. You will not be able to fight off an enemy if I am your passenger and can it get out of your alt mode to safety or my…mecha.”
“I gotchu, babe.” Jazz said, opening his door into Prowl to playfully indicate he should get in. And what bizarre thought right there, to think that Prowl would be inside him in alt mode.
It was even weirder when Prowl ducked down and into the car, where he settled into the nice comfy leather seat.
Jazz was jealous of himself for having such an interior, when the last car human Jazz had been in left something to be desired.
Withholding a shiver when Prowl dutifully buckled himself in securely, Jazz managed to pass it off as eagerness as he revved his engine while rolling forward toward the open, broken front doors of the warehouse. Jazz revved his engine again, because it was fun and it made Prowl smile again.
A smile that was fond yet bittersweet, as if Prowl again realized what he was missing now that he had become human.
Jazz found he was able to manipulate the seat belt and gave it a brief squeeze agaisnt Prowl in silent understanding. He shivered involuntarily while emerging from the warehouse as laid a hand lightly over his chest, on the belt.
It was quiet.
There was no sign or single of anyone nearby, lurking, be it friend, civilian or enemy.
Jazz angled himself to drive down the small dirt path that led to a desolate side road void of traffic. Jazz began to increase the speed of his alt mode further down along the road. Then, Jazz it the gas (or whatever it was now that he ran on in his vehicle alt mode-a combo of gas and energon?) and shot down the road. The moment he reaches the highway, Jazz let himself fly down the highway, releasing a delighted whoop at the speed and lack of traffic ro increase that speed a bit more.
“Jazz!” Prowl ended up gripping whatever he could lay his hands on that wasn’t the steering wheel. Holding to the middle console and the bottom of the seat he was on, he continued on. “Just because there is no one else around does not mean you have
to drive so recklessly.”
“Ya ain’t seen reckless yet!” Jazz laughed, though he wasn’t about to see just how fast he could go with Prowl depending on him for safety.
Another time.
But that didn’t mean Jazz couldn’t have a little fun right now.
Prowl grimly held on while Jazz shifted lanes and began to increase his speed again.
“Don’t worry boo, I won’t crash with ya in me.” Jazz assured with an unseen grin.
Prowl said nothing as the speed remained constant, practically white knuckling the middle console and the underside of the seat. Blue eyes narrowed on the dashboard, Prowl releasing slightly frustrated puffs of air, lips twitching as if he wanted to say or do something.
“What’s up, Prowler? Jazz asked, while at the same time discovering the controls for the radio. He fiddled with the stations until he found music he felt was appropriate for practically flying down the highway.
“…I am attempting to reconcile my need to pursue a speeding target while I am incapable of doing so.” Prowl eventually stated through gritted teeth.
“Aww, Prowler, I’d let ya chase me anytime once yer back in that mecha.” Jazz cooed. “You could probably outpace me with those thrusters and a leap.”
“It is simply not the same.” Prowl deadpanned after clearly giving the idea some thought.
“Sure, it won’t be the same.” Jazz agreed. “But ya won’t know that till we give it a try.”
Prowl released a sigh but Jazz could see the same indulgent smile from before, like he found Jazz endearing but a pain in the ass.
The minutes seemed to pass by quickly, bringing the city closer into view.
It looked half-wrecked.
Jazz found he could look a little closer to make it seem less far away.
Neat.
It wouldn’t be much longer until he and Prowl reached the city. But it was upon seeing their destination that Jazz suddenly realized he wouldn’t be able to help Prowl look for supplies so easily. Especially considering that he’d either be a car or he’d become a big, bulky living metal robot that wouldn’t be able to do more than peer into the windows or doors of shops.
Unless, of course, the city was wrecked to shit, like it kind of looked like from this distance.
Jazz could help root around in rubble and debris if that was the case.
But until they reached the city, Jazz got to spend time with Prowl in a much closer way than before.
A nice thought.
“In the event we cross paths with any Cybertronian who may have ended up in a situation like ourselves, you should be aware that…” Prowl trailed off, furrowing his brow as though thinking before speaking again. “Do be aware that when you rumble your engine like the ‘purr’ you just made? It indicates that you are…pleased to be around a particular person.”
“Is that so?” Jazz quieted for a moment as he continued his way down the highway. Then, he made the rumbling engine purr. “Well, just so ya know, I am ‘pleased’ to be around ya, Prowler.” Jazz proceeded to thrum his engine at a frequency that did seem to make a ‘purring’ noise. “Literally and metaphorically.”
The little blush on Prowl’s pale human face was so worth whatever bullshit was afoot that caused their species change.
-
Prowl had slowly become accustomed to and aware of Jazz’s fondness for him as a human. But it was another thing for Prowl to experience when Jazz was Cybertronian. And despite being human, Prowl was more clearly able to see signs of that fondness than before. Unfortunately, Prowl only had the limited ability to sense many while being limited to reciprocation while Prowl was human.
But one thing he was familiar with?
The engine-like deep purr that reverberated through Prowl’s body was reassuring and familiar, though he didn’t often hear such sounds directed toward himself. Most of the time, Prowl knew that he had absentmindedly rumbled his engine around Jazz, both before and after Prowl had discovered that Jazz was an organic (and not a living mech that had suffered through torture to his frame to manipulate it to fight Quintessons).
Prowl knew he was unable to return the engine purr, for obvious reasons, but had a passing though that perhaps he could do so within the mecha. Even if Prowl wasn’t sure of the mecha’s schematics to be able to reproduce such a sound. If anything, the engine to whatever ran the mecha would sound so lifeless compared to the rich vibrancy Prowl, as a Cybertronian, had produced. Though not at the level Jazz’s smooth engine purr allowed him within alt mode.
A thought to be pursued at a later time. Currently, Prowl was supposed to be readying himself to look for supplies, while Jazz kept an optic out for any trouble.
The city, once Jazz reached it, was eerily still, the only noise Jazz’s engine as he turned left and pulled into a street lined with buildings on one side, and crumpled, caved in ones on the opposite street.
This silence is disquieting in a way Prowl did not know how to explain. Not in a way he would he satisfied with. The closest comparison Prowl could link it to were those times when he worked late into the night (a common occurrence) while most other Autobots were deep in recharge.
Prowl’s only company in those late nights the white noise of the vents within his office, and of Red Alert’s intermittent reports on security locations scattered about. Many of those reports happened to be tagged ‘Decepticon’ and ‘high priority’ because Red couldn’t help but continue to find Decepticon actions ‘suspicious’. Even if it was just a couple of ‘cons relaxing during a rare instance of no battle with the Quintesson force.
Prowl had only interfered once when he’d received a message from Red Alert about a large card game between a group of Autobots and Decepticons (started by Swindle and Smokescreen) that had gotten to betting medical supplies; something expressly forbidden, as there just wasn’t enough to go around, and medics sparsely spread around couldn’t just leave their stations. That had been an interesting night…and protest, with many a mech put into the brig. Prowl merely returned to his office to finish up as much work as he could, the renewed silence welcome in those early morning hours.
This city, half destroyed by an apparent brutal encounter between mecha pilots and Quintesson forces.
Prowl was able to tell that he and Jazz were alone.
For now.
“You ready to go check some of the intact stores?” Jazz drawled, interrupting Prowl’s thoughts.
Glancing up from where he’d been staring out the side window, Prowl gave a single nod. He withheld a grimace as it made something in his neck twinge painfully; it was probably just something leftover from being connected to the neural link of the mecha. Hopefully, that would fade soon enough.
“You sure, boo? I think I felt ya wince.” Jazz had opened up the door of his alt mode to let Prowl out in any case. “Head givin’ ya some trouble today?”
“Not enough to impede with a search for supplies.” Prowl allowed, knowing that he and Jazz were notoriously poor at admitting needing medical treatment. Plus, Prowl was still not as familiar with humans as he wanted to be, in regard to making sure that Jazz had been taking care of himself these past five years. Insomuch as he gave out information on his organization species.
“It’s fun to see you thinkin’ like yer a mech. Ya pinch your eyebrows together and furrow your brows. It’s cute, Prowler.” Jazz waggled his door a little. “How about we go over whatever yer thinkin’ about on the way back to the warehouse?”
“Very well.” Prowl agreed, before he slid out of Jazz’s alt mode. He gave the store that Jazz pulled up alongside, then back, to watch Jazz idle outside, presumably to keep an optic out.
Smart.
With Jazz’s sensory suite, while likely not as advanced as Prowl’s when including his doorwings, was more than enough to be able to sense if someone was headed toward their location.
And the sound of ground bridge portals appearing from out of nowhere would be obvious, even to Prowl with only human senses. Though right now, he was wondering if he ought to have questioned Jazz what exactly it was he was looking in this store for.
Food, most likely.
The moment Prowl entered the dimly lit space, some holes in the ceiling providing sunlight, he felt he may be in over his head while he began to explore. And another barrier soon became clear.
Prowl may have learned Jazz’s spoken language, but he had not properly learned the written language. This meant that Prowl was unable to read the writing on various items that he came across, even if he could see the glyphs…the lettering. So, Prowl merely looked each item he came across and picked out what looked like it could be something edible.
Cans on shelves with what looked like human food Jazz had doodled to show him.
An occasional in-tact box.
Other containers that were in the same aisle as things Prowl had seen in other drawings Jazz had shown him over the years.
There were even some glass doors to open in some aisles but upon opening it, Prowl gave a wrinkle of his nose as a foul odor emitted and swiftly closed it.
Unlikely to be edible, then.
Prowl roamed some more aisles, making use of one of the carts he’d come across to load up everything he had found thus far. He added some other boxes and jars that were not behind those glass doors. Prowl believed it would be best to allow Jazz to look over the assortment of possible foodstuffs before attempting to eat anything. This was the smart route to go, because if Prowl was unable to read the word he saw but couldn’t understand, then who was to say that everything he took off the shelves was even food?
When Prowl reached the center of the grocery store, he paused to stare at the sight of a destroyed vehicle. It was obvious that it had dropped in from above, the ceiling overhead caved in, the rubble on top.
But near it, amongst broken shelving, Prowl caught a faint scent that reminded him of the ‘soap’ that Jazz had been excited to have made three years ago with the appropriate materials (and not the ‘bland shit’ he had to use from another organic-species based world). Prowl dutifully placed some of the intact bottles and small boxes with the soap smell into the very overloaded cart. Satisfied, Prowl moved on, finishing his short stay in the store before he was satisfied that he’d found what could be useful. Shoving the cart toward the entrance of the store, where Jazz waited for him, Prowl paused at the appreciative whistle that came from his partner.
“Damn, Prowler, you got the jackpot there.” Jazz popped the backseat doors. “Dunno how much we’re gonna find, so dump it all in wherever ya can; I even got a trunk!”
Prowl wordlessly considered why Jazz had storage space near his aft instead of using the subspace.
No matter.
That was something else the two of them could discuss.
Once the supplies were secured, Prowl got back into the driver’s side and Jazz moved off down the street to the next building not completely destroyed.
This back and forth was repeated until Jazz’s trunk was filled, along with the backseat. In Prowl’s arms, he held what was presumably an expensive insulated sleeping bag that had somehow been untouched by the scattered debris from a sports store.
Feeling worn out, like he’d worked in his office without consuming any energon or recharge for longer than was safe for most Cybertronians. Prowl couldn’t help but doze off, content with the rumble of Jazz’s engine as he drove back toward the warehouse.
Prowl roused from his dozing long enough to help unload all of the supplies out of Jazz’s backseat and trunk so that he could switch back to root mode. Once settled down on a chair Jazz produced from…somewhere, Prowl gratefully settled into it to watch as his partner began to and take a look through everything procured. Despite the ache in his head, Prowl remembered enough to tell Jazz his earlier observation. “While I understand your language, I find that the translation has not extended to written language. I can see the letters, but do not understand how to read it.”
“Weird, I never thought of that not translatin’ over. That’s definitely something we should pass along and see if it’s just us or if anyone who’s taken up the language packet for humans has that problem.” Jazz hummed to himself. “Makes sense to why there’s some spoiled items. The numbers might not translate properly in an understandable way either. Some of it might be okay past the date, dependin’ on what it is and how it was packaged.”
Prowl watched these two piles begin to be sorted in a ‘spoiled’ pile and then a slightly larger maybe’ pile. ‘Canned goods’ became a third pile with decent dates safe for human consumption, and a fourth, much smaller pile was ‘Prowler is approved to eat this right now’. The last tiny pile gathered in front of Jazz contained soap, hand sanitizer, and a bottle of painkiller.
“I think ya need some more sleep.” Jazz notes, helm tilting and visor brightening as he looked his partner over. “You’re fallin’ asleep upright in that chair.”
Prowl released a sigh of weariness but didn’t move when Jazz delicately draped the sleeping bag over him. But with his eyes already closed, it wasn’t like Prowl was going to argue over the glaring evidence of weariness (and slowly growing aches and pain within his head). But the ‘sleep’ couldn’t have been for very long, because Prowl was quickly woken by Jazz.
“Time to go kick some Quint ass, Prowler!” Jazz said brightly, servos careful as he directed Prowl into the cockpit of his mecha, followed by two backpacks deposited out of the way. “Got the rest of the supplies in my subspace. Enemy force is about 2 miles out.”
Prowl hastily removed his glasses, but was careful to store them in their case before tucking it beneath the pilot seat. As the mecha pilot helmet was picked up, Prowl hesitated a brief instance before putting it on over his head. Once settled in the chair, Prowl acknowledged that while he may greatly dislike the process of the neural link up, he couldn’t deny the mecha’s efficiency. The second he was linked up and out of the warehouse, Prowl surged toward a clustered group of Quintesson scouts with a snap open of sensor panels and thrusters roaring to life. Prowl made the snap decision with the use of what felt like his tac net. To make the best use of his mecha in this situation, he and Jazz stood a better chance of Prowl took out as many scouts as possible in one quick headlong strike, with Jazz as backup.
Prowl devoted the most time into tearing through the enemy, but was aware of his surroundings enough to witness Jazz move about, light on his pedes, as he practically danced around the small impromptu battlefield. Prowl saw instantly that Jazz was working his way around the larger mecha’s attacks to make use of the opening given. Prowl was pleased to find he could ‘flutter’ the bisected wing-like sensor appendages his mecha had in a manner of quiet appreciation of Jazz’s skills translating well to his Cybertronian form. Prowl believed he may have even caught a glimpse of Jazz somehow flashing half his visor in an approximation of a wink, right before driving a vibroblade into a scout’s skull.
The fight was over quickly; this which turned out to be incredibly perfect timing.
“Jazz.” Prowl squinted within his mecha, head beginning to throb and pound, the ache even worse since he’d linked to the mecha. He heard Jazz say something, but couldn’t parse it out. Prowl sent his condition in response, and waited to see what Jazz had to say.
“Damn, babe, looks like you’re more susceptible to getting sick from the neural link than I was.” Jazz let out a frustrated vent. “It sucks, but you’re gonna have to stay linked up until we can get ya to a clinic that still outta be around.”
“I will remain functional for a time.” Prowl offered. “I could take the painkillers that were found?”
“I’d normally say give it a go, but it ain’t touchin’ that neural link bullshit.” Jazz said with an unhappy frown, reaching out to rest a servo over one of Prowl’s mecha arms. “We’re close to the clinic, if it’s still there; about three to four hours of human time.”
“It’s within acceptable time range.” Prowl answered once he translated that amount to his own time calculations. “It is better to go now than wait until I am unable to move under my own power.” Prowl shivered involuntarily. “I do not mean to alarm you, but there is the faint sensation of something wet near the back of my head or neck.”
“Yeah, that ain’t a good sign.” Jazz said, concern evident even if he kept his calm. But Jazz didn’t speak as he would have while he led the way to this ‘clinic’.
Prowl knew that they’d reached their destination three and a half hours later from the way Jazz relaxed a tad, armored shoulders drooping in obvious relief at the sight of a small seaside town as it came into view. But something bright caught both their attention, Jazz perking up to point while Prowl reached out to clap Jazz on a shoulder. “We’re being rushed.” But whatever Jazz could sense, it wasn’t worrying, as he even let out a delighted laugh.
“Wow, that sure is a blazing EM field! It’d probably haven been too much for your doorwings.”
“Another Cybertronian?” Prowl prompted curiously.
“I think we found another case of species swap.” Jazz said by way of answer, just as the unfamiliar Cybertronian of vibrant orange, yellow and reds barreled forward. “His field is goin’ nuts, Prowler. Think it’s like…disbelief/excitement/happy?”
Prowl stepped to the side just in time, because Jazz lunged abruptly leapt forward to meet the taller Cybertronian, the two of them colliding with one another.
This resulted in a horrendous metal on metal grinding noise as Jazz was lifted up by the other mech and spun around with a whoop.
“Jazz! What’re you doing back on Earth?!”
“What about you, Hot Rod?” Jazz grinned, pretending to fend the other off once he was set back down in the ground. “Last I heard you were out on a solo mission on one of the moons near Cybertron. How’d you end up here?”
Prowl watched the exchange with an air of resignation while the two Cybertronians revved engines and grinned at one another while they bounced in place, (though more on Hot Rod’s side as he also wriggled in place, spoiler bouncing).
“-Hot Rod! What are you-no, you have to stop going around hugging anyone you don’t know, it’s not-“ The voice cut off instantly as a black, gray and white mecha with gold, red and orange detailing came into view with a deep red visor.
Tension was suddenly thick in the air.
“Deadlock.” Prowl stated neutrally. “You are a mecha pilot?”
Jazz turned at the tone change, half shielding Hot Rod behind him, tense. Even if Jazz’s expression held wary interest over what Prowl assumed his partner would deem a ‘badass mecha design’ before assuring Prowl his mecha was better-looking in his optics (68%, the echo of the tac net supplied).
::Don’t worry, Prowler. I think yer mech looks much better than his, even if it is pretty badass::
Case in point, there.
Just as Deadlock was about to speak, perhaps to say something to Prowl, Jazz suddenly and unexpectedly burst into genuine laughter.
Prowl didn’t know why until he caught sight of a decent-sized wrench flying through the air from out of seemingly nowhere, perfectly striking Deadlock’s shoulder while a voice bellowed.
“You just gave away your position as well, kid!”
Prowl’s bisected mecha wings hitched high, catching Hot Rod’s attention while Jazz kept his focus half in Deadlock, and half on what must have been a familiar, if grumpy, Cybertronian face to him.
::He’s the doctor I mentioned to you before. Ratchet. But last I checked he was human five years ago:: Jazz commed Prowl ::I think he’s even got an ambulance as an alt mode!::
Prowl looked again.
This other Cyberyronian, Ratchet, according to Jazz, was mainly white, marked with red like many medics were on Cybertron. Jazz appeared alongside Prowl, and deemed it necessary in the moment to steer him toward the scowling Ratchet while still maintaining a careful distance from Deadlock.
“Heya Ratchet!” Jazz raised his free servo to wave it, in order to catch the attention of the doctor.
Prowl had a klick to consider that this species swap being confirmed in more than just himself and Jazz was important, before the pain on his head became too difficult to ignore. The why and how this happens could be addressed at a later point; preferably once all five of them reached a defensible place.
“How’s it goin’?” Jazz was clearly happy to see the other mech, even if Ratchet looked like he wanted nothing more than to strangle him, Hot Rod and Deadlock, the medic’s glower growing until his blue optics remained zeroed in on Jazz.
Prowl saw the cheeky smile grow while Jazz assisted him in maneuvering his mecha forward. While Prowl was not able to sense EM fields, it was not hard to see the worry beneath the gruff ire on Ratchet’s face. But Jazz apparently did as he lightly spoke up.
“Apart from Prowler here experiencing some neural link sickness, I’m just a little banged up on my armor.” Jazz’s arm wrapped loosely around the back of Prowl’s mecha, beneath the sensor wings and thrusters.
“Symptoms?” Ratchet was short and to the point as his optics flashed to Prowl.
Jazz must have sent it via a packet of data because Ratchet was suddenly cursing up a storm.
“Start with bleeding from the neural link connection points first!” Ratchet began to stomp off along through the town, presumably headed toward his clinic. “I want him out of that walking metal pile of death the moment he gets it powered down in the hanger.” Ratchet paused then turned to jab a digit at Jazz. “And don’t think I won’t check you over too. It could just be damaged armor, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a weapon of some kind wedged under your plating too and just choosing to ignore the pain.”
“Ah, c’mon, Ratchet, do you really think I would do that to ya?” Jazz drawled with an impish smile.
“Would you like me to answer that chronologically, going over each time you ‘forgot’ to seek out medical care after a raid, or alphabetically, so I can list off all the ways you not only ‘forgot’ medical care but also slipped out of my clinic without approval?”
“What can I say? I don’t do well cooped up, Ratch.” Jazz said with a casual shrug and mischievous grin.
“I will weld your aft to the examination berth if you try to avoid a check-up now.” Ratchet continued on his way.
“Missed ya too, Ratchet!” Jazz called after the grumbling doctor, before resuming leading the way.
Prowl went along with him, his attention wavering as it took quite a lot of effort to lift each leg of the mecha.
“I think I’ll go on patrol to see if there’s any Quints in the area…” Hot Rod announced into the sudden silence. “Maybe meet up with some of the pilots in the nearby areas.” Hot Rod let out an offended yelp and engine rev when Deadlock seized him by a part of his small spoiler, leading him along after Ratchet. Once he tossed a look from his visored mecha head by urning it to face Jazz and Prowl before looking away.
::This is what you deem safe?:: Prowl took in the answering smirk, recalled situations worse than this that Jazz had been perfectly fine by Jazz, and moved on. ::I have concerns regarding Deadlock’s presence here as well, alone with clear evidence of more species swaps occurring::
“We’ll make sure to talk it out once we get ya seen to.” Jazz said reassuringly, though he seemed to think Prowl might end up collapsing at any moment “Everything will work out Prowler, you’ll see.”
“Your sudden optimism is concerningly patterning Optimus Prime, which is unusual for you.” Prowl stated while leaning heavily on Jazz. “Are you doing well?”
Jazz evaded answering with a conveniently timed interruption.
“Get your shiny metal asses into the hanger behind the clinic before I take you there myself!” Ratchet called out, banging something metal against his servo.
Deadlock muffled what sounded like a laugh into a cough.
Hot Rod groaned but was unable to flee due to Deadlock’s mecha servo still around his spoiler.
Prowl caught fond amusement cross Jazz’s face before the blue visor turned to focus back on him. “Jazz?” Prowl prompted, despite staggering briefly. Once recovered, he allowed Jazz to help haul him along at a quicker speed. “I should refuel and recharge…or rather, eat, drink and sleep. I feel worse than before. Much too warm, and there are no vents to release the excess heat.”
“I gotcha boo.” Jazz patted one servo at the mecha’s waist. “Ratchet will know what kinda medicine will help the best once he knows what you’re dealing with. And if it’s just reactin’ to the neural link.” Jazz jerked his helm toward a cliff overhang further ahead, overlooking the sea and the town near it. The clinic itself was nestled in father beneath within the cliff, along with a newer, bigger hanger off to the side to accommodate both Cybertronians and mecha. “We’re almost there.”
Prowl let out a soft noise this time as he focused on walking along with Jazz’s assistance. The pounding in his had grew worse, his sight beginning to tunnel. The sooner Prowl was able to get detach from the mecha neural link, the better.
Two Earth minutes later, and the small group reached the hanger.
Prowl saw as much as heard the way Jazz’s plating had loosened a fraction from the tight press of it agaisnt his frame. This allowed for Prowl to lower his guard to match Jazz’s own. This was due to Prowl’s tac net indicating that there was a high percentage (82%) that Jazz felt safe, even in a place he’d not been to in years. Prowl trusted the assessment he ran, because the tac net, while no longer as quick as it would be were he Cybertronian, still allowed for him to run the numbers on scenarios and input around him.
Safety, for now.
Prowl ran a quick few calculations regarding Deadlock’s presence, as well as Ratchet and Hot Rod’s with the information he knew from before, and what he learned most recently upon seeing them now. It was interesting that Deadlock didn’t rise higher than (48%) for danger. But even so…Prowl would have to rely on Jazz to keep an optic on Deadlock, since Prowl wouldn’t be able to once out of the mecha, unless Deadlock was leaving his own as well.
“C’mon, Prowler, time to shut the thinking and numbers off so Ratch here can make sure your currently human brain isn’t going to turn to mush running that tac net and connecting to your mecha.” Jazz announced a little too cheerily.
62% chance he was hiding his worry with that cheer.
“What is a tac net?” Ratchet asked as he began to shove things about in the room closest to the hanger.
“A big ole tactical program jammed into Prowl’s processor made the journey over to his mecha so he can link up not only to his mecha but to his tac net to calculate and assess risks. Among other uses.”
“Of course there’s more finicky hardware hooked up to his brain.” Ratchet grumbled darkly as he set something aside with a low unhappy growl. “It had better not be as bad as some of the things Phrama has done to people in the past in the earlier program tests...”
“Eh, probably worse.” Jazz said cheerfully.
Prowl sighed; he was going to have to address his partner’s demeanor once he felt less like he was going to pass out. Priwl carefully maneuvered his mecha down to the hanger floor with Jazz’s aid, then began to disconnect from his mecha next. He was content to listen to Jazz gently tease the doctor due to the fact that Jazz’s current body language and demeanor practically radiated calm despite Prowl being unable to sense his EM field (even if most of it was likely a front).
The pain that hit once disconnected was worse than before.
Prowl remained cognizant enough to unlock and open the mecha’s chest before curling in on himself. He attempted to shakily breathe through the nauseating undulating wave of dizziness that was currently assailing him. At least Jazz was near; Prowl would make certain that he was seen to, for whatever terrible thing ailed him as a human. This whole ordeal, short as it had been thus far on Earth, made Prowl more determined than before to make certain that Jazz was not suffering from any side effects of becoming a Cybertronian.
Once Prowl was properly able to focus on anything but the terrible ache in his head, of course.
-
Note: Jazz and Prowl are so much fun to write. Adding in Ratchet and Deadlock/Drift. Hot Rod will be around for a bit, but not a main focus.
I would love to update 1-3 times a month, but I’ll see how that goes based off how typing up a draft from the outline then editing it goes for each new chapter.
Next chapter preview:
Ratchet has some things to say, Jazz learns what a loadbearer is, Deadlock (Drift) is high on alert over the entire situation, and Prowl gets to see what Ratchet looked like as a human, because Ratchet apparently figured out how to maintain a holoform for a short time.
And Hot Rod is, while enjoying the show, would like to meet back up with his team. And Jazz is excited, again, because wdym in his loadbearer form he is small enough to scoop up a human Prowl into his arms??
Should be finished with editing ch 6 of Topsy Turvy soon (finally). Decided to keep it as one very long chapter. Hoping to get it posted tomorrow or Friday night.
For now, here’s another few wip snippets:
Jazz being a speed demon in his Porsche alt (aka he gets two alts b/c one is for his loadbearer form) while teasing Prowl who’s in the front seat.
Prowl very much means it when he wants to chase Jazz (and will at some point try to do so in his mecha, even if it ‘isn’t the same’).
Jazz, continuing to befuddle Prowl while in alt mode:
And Ratchet learning he can use Cybertronian strength to make sure people (Jazz) actually rest (threats but not following through on them) but can still help humans (Prowl and Deadlock/Drift) while learning all he can about his Cybertronian medical abilities.
Snippets from the next Topsy Turvy chapter while I keep typing up the outline. Based off the outline, I may face to split the ch in two once I fully type it out.
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Jazz having a good time for now. Prowl still adjusting.
Ratchet, in the far distance: I have the indescribable urge to throw a wrench at a certain someone I’ve not seen in years.
-
this is likely going to be another long chapter cause I’ve not even gotten to jazz cheerily greeting ratchet yet
Drops a whole knows how long one shot introduction (of sorts) for the unnamed jazzprowl au idea, while I play around with the different aspects of it.
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note: so this au is again a mix of :
I’m on observation duty mechanics/settings, Murderbot Diaries’ SecUnit type character, and transformers humanformers aus.
And maybe some eventual ‘lethal company’ inspired bits with random shit happening in the locations with items inexplicably appearing and random monster spawns courtesy of Shockwave or something.
Since, you know, Jazz cannot and will not be made to sit still at a computer monitor forever for hours on end; he must have enrichment of some kind, so explore and gather information at the locations it is (Good thing Prowl will be going along with him at that point, though initially just following to try to communicate and Jazz going oh shit the intruder anomaly in person. They’ll get to communicating. Eventually).
Other note: Prowl staring intently into the cameras and having some implied trouble with his own body and feeling like something happened that he can’t remember.
-
There was static that briefly rippled across the screen, but that was it.
Kind of a letdown, really, because as of two hours into his shiny ‘new’ job done outside of the usual Decepticon base, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
This, of course, was the worst, as boredom was almost just as bad as sitting still and not being constantly on the go, sneakily collecting random bits of conversation in the infiltrated base, or stealing physical pieces of intel that wouldn’t be discovered missing until it was too late to look back and see who had taken it.
This job he was doing right now?
It sucked.
Jazz half-wondered if Decepticon command had made this assignment specifically as a punishment for the rank and file, of whom m were whispering about the fantastical things that had been seen or mentioned about these locations. Jazz didn’t think he believed that that was all there was to it. There had to be something more to this particular job, and he just couldn’t see yet.
This particular assignment given to ‘Ricochet’ was to go to five separate locations, and use the temp base to live in during the day then go into the monitoring area at night to check on each location’s set up security cameras.
For anomalous activity.
This was what had caught Jazz’s attention and drew him to the assignment. It had peaked his curiosity that so many people had been talking about possible bases for the Decepticons to make use of outside of their smaller mobile ones, but the supposed activity was making the lower rank nervous.
To Jazz, it was kind of funny, until he also learned that Sohockwave or another scientist may have had a hand in causing some odd anomalies to occur in years past, so of course, Jazz made the executive decision to position himself to be chosen for the assignment.
It was a perfect opportunity for his team to move in and for him to better communicate with them.
Plus, Jazz liked to be able to know what was going on, regardless of whether or not this assignment he’d undertaken as ‘Ricochet’ actually meant anything.
A perfect cover for a cover, a lie within a lie, to make it seem like all was well and that no sir, there’s nothing questionable about Ricochet, look at him doing his work like a good little Decepticon grunt soldier, nothing to see here Soundwave.
Meanwhile, this assignment would allow Jazz’s team to finally move in on intel he could pass along from one of the temp bases he was going. Then, while his team did their thing, Jazz would listen in on and gather intel at the different mini bases he would be staying at, and be able to receive small packets of encrypted info in return that wouldn’t be too damning if Soundwave intercepted it.
Hell, Jazz going on his way out of the Decepticon base after months of living there posed as the Decepticon Ricochet within the low ranking grunts was why he hadn’t argued or protested against his ‘new assignment’.
But at 2 am, Jazz was seriously beginning to wonder if this assignment was some kind of hazing ritual for those dumb enough to believe the rumors about anomalous occurrences. Or if the footage that Jazz currently cycled through in the middle of the night had some legitimate reasons to be watched.
‘Test facility.’
How creatively named.
An old haunt of Shockwave’s, or one that he intended to take at some point, when Decepticon forces got nearer to it in the future?
So far, Jazz had found some odd anomalies; displaced dishes, missing pillows, extra cups, that sort of thing. Nothing that would cause so much alarm and disquiet amongst the bulk of the Decepticon forces that their leader decided to go through the effort to not only set up temp bases but almost immediately send someone out to deal with the rumors.
And yet-
Items that vanished and reappeared after ‘reporting’ it was incredibly bizarre.
Jazz planned to note it all down and do some investigating on his ‘downtime’ between these locations, to see if he could find rational explanations (or if this monitor could possibly be linked to some virtual reality or some game) for the what he saw so far or if it here was something going on that was actually real). He wanted to know which it was, because if it was the latter, that would be incredibly concerning, as it could compromise the intel Jazz gained.
If the former?
Of the anomalies being real?
Jazz would need to see more, but he felt he’d take real over a virtual reality situation, because that would mean possible errors in intel gained. But if the anomalies were real in some way, then Jazz would have to admit that there was strange shit going on in the world (possibly caused by Shockwave’s or another’s older experiments from the past).
Oh.
There was a change in the photo there.
Reporting…and done.
Another ten minutes slipped by in complete boredom.
Jazz idly tapped a key on the crunchy keyboard as he cycled through the footage available, then froze in place as Jazz stared at the rather normal screen before him.
There was absolutely no way he’d just seen that.
With a cautious tap of the keyboard, the monitor screen flickered back to the previous security camera.
This one was labeled as ‘Patient Zero room’, the footage, showing a closed door, but the wide angle of the camera allowed Jazz to see a hall on one side of the door, and then partially into the room itself through a dark window on the right.
Only the door was currently wide open with a light on inside.
That would have been enough cause for concern( but that wasn’t all Jazz saw.
There was also a man standing there, right in the middle of the open doorway. His head was tipped back in order to make direct eye contact with the camera.
The man’s bright blue eyes seemed to bore into Jazz’s, despite it being an image on a monitor from a remote, secure location.
Jazz stared back at the man who’d inexplicably appeared on camera, one hand hovering over the mouse, his other hand pressed heavily into the desk.
The rather crap quality from this security cam made it difficult to make features out properly, but the man appeared to be wearing lightweight if reinforced armor (no helmet or anything on his head) with a red crest on the chest plate that matched the splash of high lights in the man’s hair, and a moveable lower plates over the abdomen that led to the armor over the hips.
What.
The fuck.
Was this?
That sure was an unblinking stare.
Jazz was prompted to move when the camera began to zoom in on its own toward the man.
Nope.
Jazz wasn’t playing that kind of game here. The man didn’t look away once, intense gaze on the camera the entire time.
Jazz clicked on the mouse to bring up the report, selected the room and then picked
‘Intruder’, as that was an option to choose.
That sure as hell described what he was seeing.
Waiting until whatever server this setup was connected to processed the request, Jazz was subjected to the unwavering blue gaze, until the screen went blank, before rebooting itself back.
The door to the patient room was closed.
The light was off.
There was no man standing there. It was as if he hadn’t been there at all, making Jazz question his sanity at 2 past whatever the fuck o’clock in the morning.
And things only went downhill from there, with even more distressing things beginning to occur on screen. It was almost as if the intruder Jazz had seen summoned a host of anomalies, just to get back at Jazz for questioning the validity of the lower ranks of the Decepticons over these five locations. The ‘highlights’ of the rest of the night included:
A dead body in the operating room, the isolation room suddenly becoming a gigantic open space, a whole ass giant desk flipped onto its side in the meeting room and then, to top it all off to concerning, the same man from before stood staring up at the camera at Jazz from within the locked, barricaded, bunker.
Though the camera didn’t zoom in on the man this time, Jazz took a little more time to commit to memory the details of the armor and the plain skin tight clothing beneath it that peeked out in some areas (Jazz grimaced in sympathy at go uncomfortable that looked to wear-he loved his non-uniform issued comfy sweater with front pocket, and jeans that had his hunting knife strapped to one thigh).
The man did nothing but gaze quietly at the camera.
Jazz didn’t get any warnings about the anomalies piling up, so he finished his scrutiny of the other man. Of his facial features, just in case, because this man in his armor looked far too real to just be some anomaly that showed up at random in one of these locations. This man may have a blank face, but intense eyes gaze said there was someone home as he stared up at the camera, arms at his sides as he did nothing more than watch and breathe.
Jazz set the camera to reset with a report.
It was now 4 am.
The intruder didn’t show up again during Jazz’s shift.
But that didn’t mean Jazz didn’t see a small photo at one point (an image anomaly) of a man that looked remarkably like the intruder he’d seen twice early that morning.
Only in the photo he was human.
While Jazz didn’t have enough information to come to a solid answer, he had enough to make an educated guess.
The man he saw was armed and dangerous in some way, in that Jazz knew he ought to keep his distance until he knew more about what was going on (and if the man would should up elsewhere or outside of the security cameras running in that Test Facility). But what Jazz did know, regardless of the things he saw happen that night, that something was very, very wrong. At least with this first location that Jazz had been sent to observe.
The unsettling sensation of being watched lingered long after Jazz had shut down the monitor and went to bed in the next small room over. But due to the reinforced wall, he did not realize that, an hour later, a figure came to stand in front of the door to the temp base, and remained in the same exact spot until Jazz woke up late in the afternoon.
When he was ready to move on, he looked around carefully (never knew if Soundwave was going to send his little scouts to spy on people) but what he saw made Jazz stare.
There was a single set of footprints wearing boots that led to and from the temp base, the originating point coming from the direction of the Test Facility.
Well then.
Good thing that he was already packed up to go. He do not have time to waste, at least until he got to his day off to deal with whatever the mystery footprints meant, cause they sure as hell didn’t belong to any Decepticon he knew of (yes, he made sure he recognized the footwear of his enemies-had to in order to put names to ‘em). Jazz got onto his ATV and got on his way to the next location miles away. Jazz had made up his mind to do some sneaky digging around at the next location’s admin offices (or whatever the amusement park equivalent was) later that night before his shift was set to start.
-
The area of the temp base that Jazz left behind remained silent for some minutes. Then, the man from the security cameras, wearing the same armor (yet a rather lost expression) came from out of the cluster of nearby trees to come to a halt before the ATV tracks.
Prowl.
He was Prowl.
Prowl stared down at the tracks, then looked up to trace the way the ATV had driven off. Giving himself a little nod, he began to walk alongside the tracks that had been left in the dirt.
Prowl…
He needed to get this person’s attention.
Prowl found he was having trouble speaking. Not because he was incapable of it, but because something had been done to prevent him from producing sound, which was a disconcerting thing to find upon awakening in an unfamiliar place. But Prowl
believed he could write just fine, so he just needed to be able to locate a pen and paper or some equivalent, so he could communicate with the man wearing a visor, dressed in much more comfortable clothing than he saw. The man who was watching certain cameras within the Test Facility that Prowl had woken up in, disoriented and very confused, weeks ago, using those weeks to learn how to move his body again and at least temporarily come to terms with what had been done to it agaisnt his will.
At least, Prowl didn’t feel quite himself.
The internal weapons system within his arms was also quite disquieting.
Prowl did find that he was torn on how exactly to feel about the being able to think and calculate faster than he could before (at least, that’s what it seemed like). It was likely having access to what felt like a high end computer processor in his own head. It allowed Prowl to see through the hidden camera in the room where the other man had been watching the monitor, then read some of the notes the other man had been making by hand.
Blue visor.
Ridiculous looking helmet with rounded horn like attachments on it, and an odd, faint humming noise that came from the interior of the man’s helmet.
But those notes…
Prowl thought that if he could get this man’s attention, this ‘Ricochet’ (according to the IDs that Prowl was somehow able to access) then perhaps Prowl would be able to make some progress. He could figure out what happened to him before waking up, and then make plans to deal with the culprits responsible in a way that he wouldn’t be taken back and...experimented on.
There was no other explanation for why Prowl had woken in that room surrounded by that medical equipment, or for the way he had an almost desperate need to go into the heavily barricaded and locked [REDACTED] labeled room.
In there were answers, and Prowl needed them to answer his questions and bring into light those who’d done…whatever it was to his body. It was both mechanical and alive all at once and he…he didn’t…
Prowl forcefully dismissed that line of thought and refocused on Ricochet.
Ricochet…he appeared to be a spy or saboteur, based off of some of the things he’d written on the pad of paper (Prowl again pushed aside the unease of being able to access the hidden camera where Ricochet was, without a computer of his own).
The mention of a ‘Shockwave’ or other individual, possibly being responsible for some ‘anomalous activity’ at the facility, along with four other locations.
Prowl considered his options. There were very few that didn’t expose him to unknown people, nor give him enough time to be able to figure out what happened to him that would explain the huge disquieting blank in his memory apart from a name and the desperation for that one single room in the facility.
Something missing.
Something lost.
Replaced with something that was both wrong and not.
…Prowl stopped the line of thought as he noticed the beginning of a loop in his mental hardware.
Such an oddity to have a processor within a human brain.
Giving his head a brief shake, Prowl went with what he assumed to be the safest route, based off some calculations he ran without even thinking about it.
Ricochet.
Now, Prowl only had to find a way to convince the man that he wasn’t there to interrupt his infiltration, or whatever it was he was up to, and only wanted to request assistance.
(Don’t think about the weird desire to follow orders that was at the back of his mind; there weren’t any orders, just a more disturbing set of abilities he wasn’t aware of).
The HUD screen that had overlaid Prowl’s sight when he’d woken with a visor over his eyes inexplicably scared Prowl enough that he’d forcibly torn it off, causing some damage, as he tossed the visor across the room).
Prowl forced himself to walk along, dismissing questions he had no answers to. But what he wasn’t aware of was that following after Ricochet that day had been the best choice he could have made with the limited options he had.
Prowl didn’t realize that he would eventually gain a valuable, if incredibly chaotic ally who would play off well of Prowl’s own strengths, both men able to work together to commit a sudden multitude of (justified) crimes to accomplish their separate goals.
-
This is consuming my mind, but at the same time, I am typing up more of Topsy Turvy.
note- the [REDACTED] room will be lore important for this au idea. Some fucked up things happened to Prowl and little blip of memory will kind of show that and make it worse as you think being a human turned SecUnit would be bad enough but there’s more to it than that.
Hello here’s some more stuff for the unnamed jazzprowl au. Some world building and such b/c I need something to bounce to and from between typing. There’s also the paltry equipment Jazz has to deal with, and one of many times that Prowl attempts contact with Jazz, only for Jazz’s paranoid ass to nope out of precaution to not break his undercover story.
Behold, initial map layout of the temp base for Jazz where he ‘observes’ locations and some chatter about it:
Each base has:
-A kitchen that has a counter, a mini fridge, microwave and a small table with a chair.
-Basic bathroom with a simple shower (cold most of the time)
-Bedroom contains a glorified cot for a bed, made bearable to lie on with a thin mattress pad, old sheets and some actual decent blankets.
-Supplies provided are shelf stable foods, water bottles that don’t appear to have been opened or tampered with, random assortment of batteries and mismatched winter clothing in cooler locations (abandoned hospital and test facility)
-reinforced walls around the bedroom, monitoring area and supply room.
-each base room is essentially the same modified storage containers at the outskirts of each location of interest for ease of convenience (at the cost of comfort for the individual who is tasked with the observation of each of the nearby locations).
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Location info with little doodles of one of the ‘camera’ locations, even if I doubt the camera placements would be shown like it would in a game. Will mainly be stills and some descriptions, most likely.
And then, there’s this list of Jazz’s initial equipment that he has access to for this undercover mission he gave himself which includes:
-half helmet that covers head to the base of spine and along the cheeks, kind of like a motorcycle helmet but less bulky, with build-in headphones (basically jazz customizes it when he receives it so that it has the ‘audial horns’ he has as a Cybertronian).
-this helmet also holds circuitry that Soundwave implanted in each helmet that would sneakily inject a needle into the wearer and do some high tech future bs that allows him to passively observe the ‘observer’ with possible nefarious ways to incapacitate the observer. (Not yet decided if Jazz was in the headspace to check for tricks when he received it, or he realizes too late and has to compensate for the possible compromises/maybe he can fiddle with the data being sent out so he doesn’t give away his cover story). Either way he plans to bring the helmet back for Wheeljack and co to play with the useful bits of tech in it.
-Jazz gets the complimentary horror flashlight but it actually has a good battery life and is bright enough to actually be useful
-Within the monitoring area, Jazz had a basic add keyboard and mouse, but actual decent monitors to keep an eye on the security cams of whatever location he’s near (each temp base has the same set up an Jazz vows to steal a good keyboard and mouse from one of the locations).
-radio for communication that is of good quality but Jazz is sure to disable the listening in feature out of precaution
-portable personal radio that Jazz brings with him from temp base to temp base to chill to during downtime.
-hunting knife he smuggled in with him initially, so if Jazz ends up having any close encounters with the Decepticons if he’s found out before his team can get the intel they need.
-panic button given to him by Autobots in case of a close encounter with Decepticons and he can’t get away quick enough it sends out a beacon to the Autobots only and the signal attaches itself to Jazz’s location in the event he is taken prisoner.
-other weapons can be obtained at the locations if Jazz feels the need to be armed.
Prowl’s initial equipment list (lmao)
-the clothes he’s wearing beneath armor when he wakes up
-the data that he can access in his processor that doesn’t seem like it’s normal from human to, you know, have access to
-built in weapons that are a thing Prowl will have to process
-a set of keys he doesn’t know where they go to
-the security cameras watching him (not equipment per say, but it gives Prowl the idea that he can locate this person who may have more accessible databases to figure out wtf happened to him)
[Someone pls help this man Prowl needs to be given some TLC, then a blank check to go raze the Decepticon bases with Jazz to go cause as much trouble as possible while figuring out what happened to him]
A thing that happens at some point:
Jazz using a handheld device with the security cameras (able to be scrolled through at will) and Jazz is at the amusement park and of course it’s nighttime and of course he has to go in and out quick to grab whatever it is he’s grabbing so of course that’s where the intruder (Prowl) shows up. Jazz ends up scurrying around the amusement park and ducking near different rides and stands and stuff as he checks the feeds and keeps getting Prowl coming closer and closer on the camera, always staring directly into it so it looks like he can see Jazz, and this time it’s too close for comfort as Jazz gets what he needs and books it for the temp base only to hear himself being followed and he is not messing with whatever is going on until he knows more so he shuts himself in the temp base and it’s unfortunate that this one has a window at the door because now Prowl is staring at him through the window unblinkingly and following him with his gaze as Jazz paces around trying to decide what to do about this supposed anomalous intruder actually following him around the places.
Prowl, watching Jazz in the amusement park and now in his temp base, wondering how he’s supposed to ask for assistance when Jazz keeps moving so quickly and how does he show that he means no harm when Jazz has experienced some trouble before at the other places before and Prowl hasn’t been able to intervene. Prowls solution is to maintain eye contact then raise his hand to give it a little wave and a little twitch of his lips in an attempt to smile but just comes off as unnatural and creepy.
Jazz: oh shit oh fuck this intruder-labeled guy on the cameras is now showing up in person more often and now he’s waving at me what does it mean does Soundwave know that Jazz is the infiltrator or is his cover not blown and Jazz just now has this very persistent man following him around? Jazz gives the creepy staring man the middle finger, wanting him to clear off with all the crap he already has going on, only to see a head tilt and then the man returning the middle finger with a perplexed look now. Jazz almost smiles at that before attempting to tell himself off to not interact with the entity or whatever the man was and to not trust the presumable harmlessness because Jazz isn’t blind and can see it’s some kind of techno organic human.
prowl: surely it won’t take too much longer to build trust so that o can have assistance in taking down the one responsible for doing this unwanted procedure to his body.
jazz: internal screaming he wants to sleep while he can but Prowl is unmovable. And when Jazz does go to bed Priwl stands outside his window and stares at him until Jazz just goes into a light doze. When he’s awake Prowl is gone but in his place is a small poster from the amusement park with the words “hello’ and ‘assistance’. Jazz now has more to contemplate.
prowl, watching from nearby, proud of himself for the communication attempt while he checks his systems and waits.
aka they’re both idiots and reckless in their own ways but Jazz and prowl will commit many crimes together and terrorize some smaller Decepticon bases once they manage to communicate directly with one another.
So the other jazzprowl au idea I had is a mishmash of ‘I’m on observation duty’ where there are settings that are like it, with a ‘Murderbot diaries’ element (aka a SecUnit) mixed with Transformers (humanformers au Autobots vs Decepticons) to make whatever this is.
Long story short: Jazz and Prowl (eventually) meet one another in person after some misunderstandings and become a terrifying force to be reckoned with; one finds somewhere to call home and another has a great time going around with the former to cause chaos for the Decepticons on a whole (and rock the shit of one scientist, possibly two, while they're at it and yeah there’s anomalies about but war crimes come first against their enemies).
More below since I get chatty but mostly just about Jazz and Prowl cause I’ve got. Thoughts (short version first then the longer explanation):
Jazz would be the 'observer' of the anomalies in five areas he's given after he infiltrated the Decepticon ranks. At each location, there is an outdoor temp base set up for Jazz with cameras to observe, a place to sleep, a tiny kitchen and a bathroom:
[This isn't so bad. Mirage and the others will be able to get all the intel th Autobots will need and I'll be able to help give them the extra time. I don't think there's any trouble those cons must be imagining things.]
Prowl, relieved to finally not be trapped against his will, finds he has trouble expressing himself and is experiencing discomfort in the changes made to his body (made him technorganic, essentially, think murderbot's SecUnit). But Prowl notices he's being watched as he is making his way out of the facility holding cell. He thinks this is the perfect moment to seek assistance and Prowl ends up doing this:
*stares unblinkingly with an intense expression at the camera in an attempt to garner Jazz's attention*
Jazz: Oh shit an actual humanoid anomaly *reports it*
Prowl: ??? *Does not understand why Jazz is reacting as such, as Prowl vaguely listens in to the audio available in Jazz's location. He decides to follow Jazz from location to location, growing increasingly concerned for the other man's mental health and well-being*
Jazz, each time this happens, wonders how in the hell this 'intruder' anomaly keeps appearing everywhere he goes but is also becoming curious:
[This anomaly could potentially kill me so I better keep my distance …but what would happen if I let it get close enough to speak to it? What would happen then?]
Longer explanation of au idea:
There's whispers of things that have happened in the areas Shockwave has done experiments in outside of claimed Decepticon territory, causing trouble to locals, and that there are possibly newer bases the Autobots aren't aware of.
Jazz infiltrates the Decepticon ranks earlier on to work his way to the right base that will put him closer to those rumored areas (talk of strange things happening, horrifying distorted figures and unnervingly human ones that aren't quite right, etc). Jazz secures the placement of an observer for these areas of interest (near places the Decepticons have as bases.
Those rumors of anomoulous activities in these places near these bases make some of the rank and file nervous to do their work, as Jazz has previously observed, confirming his team's reports and his own.
What's needed of Jazz is to stay in a small 'temp shelter' at each of these locations, once a week, to ensure that none of the presumed anomalies or possible intruders encroach onto the nearby Decepticon bases and cause more rumors and even possible missing people's reports.
While Jazz thinks this will be a great way to allow the rest of his spec ops team closer to the smaller Decepticom bases (and record the locations/any useful info), Jazz soon realizes that each of these areas (abandoned hospital, old military air base, beach house, test facility and an amusement park in disrepair.
These five specifically because of Shockwave's possible meddling in the areas that shouldn't be messed with via science and unregulated experimentation.
Jazz ends up going from skeptical of the anomalies being grounded in reality and the product of grunt Decepticon fear (and drunken nightmares) to a believer in the messed up science, the unexplainable movements, the odd unnatural beings, and the relentlessness 'intruder' that shows up in each of the five areas. This man, who always finds the cameras to stare directly at Jazz, and successfully gets closer and closer to said cameras.
What Jazz doesn't know who this 'intruder' is; just that he's human-shaped, wearing sleek black and white armor with a splash of red dye in his hair to match the red chevron-like crest on his chest that looked like he was straight out of a video game or movie (not Murderbot diary Netflix armor but more like the book armor version covers but modified for transformers characters). Prowl seems out of place but Jazz can't deny that the man has a piercing stare that screams at Jazz's senses to stay away but also makes him very curious at the same time. What he doesn't know is that Prowl, the 'intruder' Jazz sees everywhere he goes, had been locked away in the test facility, and now that he's out, Prowl he needs help fixing what was done to him and take out the one responsible.
Jazz doesn't know this.
All he is aware of is the unrelenting intruder with short hair with red highlights (like Blue), those piercing blue eyes and unwavering gaze much too close for comfort even in camera, and is the only main problem standing between Jazz and completing his weekly visits to the five locations.
Then there's the weekend. Not at all restful with the knocking on the doors, and the rather logical, 'makes sense' insistence of the intruder that Jazz let him in.
(Prowl has got a processor of sorts and can tank some attacks he'd normally not have been able to, but not without damage and needing repair, so he plans to keep his distance from that ie this makes him think that Jazz is the least likely to cause him harm as there aren't any weapons in the places the man is staying what do you mean he's avoiding Prowl?)
They'll figure it out eventually and Jazz will be quite pleased that their goals align.
I locked in writing out the Topsy Turvy outline and got to the last chapter/epilouge. (Sitting at 80 pages (160 if you count the back)
My plan now is get a good chunk of the next few chapters’ outlines typed up, and see where I’m at, as some changes are being made as I type up to make the story flow as best I can. My hope is to get a new chapter posted 16-18th of January.
My hope is to go back and forth between typing the draft outline up and editing/posting a chapter at least twice a month (or more if it’s a shorter chapter). I’ll have a better idea once I get the next few chapters typed up.
On a side note, I’ve also started another wip that’ll fall under au and something that just came to mind late December that I don’t think has been done yet for JP. I’ll post about it separately, but basically it’s chaos jazz and prowl matches him in his freak/compliments it, cause it helps Prowl solve issues and surely nothing could possibly go wrong with the escalation. (This actually may become doodles/one shots while Topsy Turvy is long chaptered fic).
Hi, I finished the chapter! It's up on Ao3, or under the cut of this post. Enjoy my descent into insanity where I made this a longer chapter than intended because I was having fun while editing it.
*skitters off into the darkness to throw myself into bed*
Note 1- FYI, this is the last update of the year. The remainder of the year will be me suffering through the holidays while also wrangling the last handful of chapters into an actual outline.
Note 2- No warnings I can think of that weren't already made before? Hmu if there is so I can add it here or to ao3 if need be.
-
Prowl, while being smothered in affection and kisses, was content to wait for Jazz to get this out of his system that they may figure out what was going on. As much as Prowl knew that he'd had a similar kneejerk reaction to seeing Jazz as a tiny organic instead of the presumed empurata mech victim, Prowl didn't fault Jazz for his current elation. While passively enduring (and enjoying) the affection Jazz heaped on him while careful of their size difference, Prowl found that he continued to have difficulty understanding what had happened to himself and Jazz.
Because his partner was correct.
How did going through a quintesson's portal cause the two to swap their species?
"Prowler, your face is scrunchin' up." A digit carefully poked Prowl in the cheek. "Is this your human thinkin' face?"
"I am thinking, yes." Prowl agreed. "I am merely considering the implications of quintesson-created portals and whether our forces have to worry about our own ground bridges or other enemy portals after what we experienced."
"Ya got a theory goin' already?" Jazz asked as he drew his helm back a tad, so he wasn't pressing derma to the top of Prowl's head.
"There's currently too many different possibilities at present that the information, or what little we have, clashes." Prowl was relieved when the bout of 'cute aggression' as Jazz had called it, ended soon after. Prowl noticed from the dimming of Jazz's visor, which meant, most likely, that the mech was reluctant to deposit him back near the pilot seat of the mecha. Not that Prowl would dissuade Jazz from kissing him again in the future. Though honestly, it was not something that Prowl had considered before.
Would Jazz have eventually attempted to kiss him as a human, perhaps cheekily flirting once he got Prowl down to face level before kissing his derma?
The now-human Prowl frowned as he thought it over. It wasn't what he should be thinking about right now, as there were more pressing matters, two of which were right in front of them both. But Prowl couldn't help but run through what had just happened with Jazz. And Prowl found that, since it was Jazz, he didn't mind that he'd been given the kisses and clear affection. It was just good that Jazz had taken the time to calibrate and test his own strength before plucking up a now more fragile Prowl in one servo.
"You're still thinkin'." Jazz commented, bemused. "Wanna share anything with the class?"
"If you would like." Prowl replied, clearly missing some cultural meaning or another as Jazz just smiled at him with great fondness. Prowl half turned to give the immediate space around the mecha seat a once over. What he saw, just like before when he'd come to within the mecha, was not good in his mind. Making a face of displeasure, Prowl spoke aloud with his first concern regarding mecha pilots, which included Jazz himself just before they'd escaped through the portal. "I do not like the process of the neural link, when I first awoke as a...human. It is far too connected to the person themselves, and that has many worrying implications, including but not limited to your observed fatigue from before the portal, and the way I struggled to disconnect myself, as if I were a part of the mecha, and not a small organic being within it."
"Best I can figure, the higher ups wanted more mecha out of the field as quickly as possible. 'Specially when the quints sent in even more alien forces to attack, including the nasty fuckers coming up from deep down in the ocean. So, the ones in charge of the mecha pilot program around the world decided that we had to move on from a two-pilot drift system." Jazz turned his helm to the side. "The single pilot models are a fraction smaller than the originals, but with what was learned over the years, the new mechas were made more efficient, with parts off the dead enemies but weren't as durable."
"Ah, making use of dead quintesson armor or even their enslaved soldiers and warriors would allow for much material to work with, and build into mechas with what you humans used initially." Prowl squinted up at Jazz, who currently appeared to be looking off into the distance. "Why were the two pilot mechas utilized less than one pilot mechas later on in your war with the quintessons?"
"It meant that more pilots could be recruited, since ya didn't have to have 'drift compatibility' with another person to move the mecha and battle in synch with one another." Jazz shifted to look back at Prowl from where he was seated alongside the mecha, one arm draped over a knee. Jazz's expression darkened, not at Prowl, but at his own words. "If a pilot ended up dead...well...it ain't pretty. I heard from a friend that when Vortex, a mecha pilot, died in his mecha, all command did was take his dead body out, give the interior a good cleanin', then let the next poor bastard link up and send 'em off into battle." Jazz frowned, visor going darker. "Thought Aid said no one but him has piloted Vortex's mecha since he got his hands on it, and he was outta that particular base like his ass was lit on fire. Hope he's still around. Five years is a long time, but hey, kid's a doctor in training. He outta be fine with his protective haunted mecha."
"His what?" Prowl asked faintly, the new information spinning within his mind and making him rather nauseous, if he was honest.
"Haunted mecha." Jazz repeated cheerfully, in his 'I'm being completely serious, Prowler' voice. "Felix swore up and down that Vortex's mecha is haunted by Vortex himself and that's why Aid was still alive after going into battle a coupla times." Jazz offered as answer, thinking nothing of how ludicrous the answer was. A thoughtful look crossed Jazz's face. "Maybe I'll ask him if that's actually true, if I see him again."
"I do not know what to say to any of that." Prowl eventually forced out, reeling over all the horrific things that could be inferred from Jazz's short explanation. He had so many other questions he wanted to follow up with but that would have to wait, as his human body decided to give him some trouble he was not certain what to do with.
"Hey now, what's that look for?"
"I-" Prowl trailed off as he took one step toward the pilot chair, swayed, then stumbled forward without his permission. Prowl managed to grasp onto the chair after suddenly losing his balance. It was as if his stabilizers had given out, though Prowl was unable to do a systems check to see what was needed to fix this. His vision was wavering too, which caused Prowl to issue out a discomforted groan as he sat himself down on the chair and leaned back. "This sensation I am feeling is incredibly unpleasant."
"You feeling dizzy? Mouth feel dry?" Jazz questioned as he leaned over to look Prowl over. "What was your fuel level before we went through that portal?"
"I feel like my balance is off, yes. Prowl carefully turned his head to the side to squint up at Jazz. His eyesight was utterly dismal. "Why do you ask? I do not have any way to compare them right now."
"I gotcha, Prowl." Jazz offered a small smile. "Tell me what it was before?"
"Very well." Prowl didn't know where Jazz was going with this. Again, he found the human mind inefficient, as he had to consider things much longer than he would have as a cybertronian. How did humans function like this, without folders of data, and perfectly organized databanks to be able to recall memories? "As of entering the room with the portal, I recall having 9%."
"Damn, Prowler, you shoulda said something." Jazz perked up as if Prowl had somehow answered a question to his human body's plight. "No wonder yer not feeling so great."
"And how is that?"
"I think when we swapped species, we ended up keeping our current 'fuel levels' from before that swap." Jazz pointed out. "Though I do wanna check my fuel levels when I get the chance. But it makes me wonder..." Jazz looked over Prowl's mecha, and then his own frame, a slow grin appearing. "I think we can add 'swapping species to survive damage' could be added to your calculations, Prowler. Look." Jazz pointed to his legs.
His damaged yet slowly self-repairing with nanites legs.
"I am not functioning at a proper level of coherence to consider our species swap some kind of intervention to our continued survival, Jazz." Prowl stared at Jazz's blurry legs, then transferred it to his face. "What do you recommend I do as a human to improve my current discomfort in this body?"
"I think eating and drinkin' something ought to help ya out for the time being." Jazz offered. "Sounds like you might be feeling like shit without anything in your...system."
"I do not have a fuel tank as a human." Prowl pointed out. "It is a....stomach, that has acid within to dissolve the food?"
"You could always think of a human stomach as a fleshy tank, if that'd help." Jazz tossed out, very much unhelpfully.
"I will not be doing that." Prowl’s face pinched in disgust at the very thought.
"So, I do think I'm on the right track with our bodies bein' in a similar state to how they were before the portal and our species swap." Jazz said smoothly, diverting the conversation back to an earlier point. "That mission we had did come up outta nowhere after a lotta planning." Jazz flashed a teasing grin Prowl's way. "9%, isn't that what ya said? Seems like someone ignored their frame's need so he could carry out a mission instead of dealyin' it and topping off on energon and recharge?" Jazz playfully flickered his visor at the squinted human Prowl glare he received. "Hey now, don't you think my theory would hold a little weight if yer currently hungry and thirsty now, and I'm more or less fine?" The Polyhexian gave a hum. "You should check around the seat or in the floor nearby for something to eat and drink."
"You know as well as I and Optimus that if the mission had been delayed, the Quintessons would have been given the time needed to strengthen that base, regardless of our intention of sabotaging it." Prowl said in return, while he did as suggested, beginning to rummage around beneath pilot seat, as well as other areas that may hold the required sustenance he required as a human. "What is it I am looking for, Jazz?" Prowl shifted through one of the hidden floor spaces. "Would it be something like what you initially consumed when I first saw you outside of your mecha suit?"
"Bars wrapped up in plastic, containers with water, maybe some packages with cold food in it that ain't good tastin' but will do in a pinch." Jazz answered, hesitating before running a servo over his middle. "By the way, how do I access my subspace? If you're gonna have a meal, I should check my fuel levels and top off with some energon. I'd bet I have something with me if you got some supplies too."
After a little more searching, Prowl located some bars of food, and a bottle of water. He settled back on the pilot seat, the items he found set down on his lap as he looked up at his partner. His currently still-blurry partner. "Am I able to send you a comm? It would be much easier than attempting to explain it. That also includes your fuel percentage and current charge, as you are unable to plug in for extra charge currently, seeing as we are out in the wilderness."
"Think ya can comm with the help of your pilot helmet without neurally linkin' up?" Jazz said as he continued to prod at his middle as if this would make himself able to make use of the subspace.
With a slow breath, Prowl retrieved the helmet up off the floor and put it back on. The moment he sent that package of data to Jazz, he disconnected from whatever was in his head from the helmet (he had questions about that) and set it back down on the floor alongside the chair. Attempting to distract himself from the uncomfortable sensation that he had noticed from before, Prowl unpackaged the bar of food from plastic. While Jazz hummed in the background and clicked some glyphs out, likely unintentionally as he attempted to figure out subspace. Prowl bit into the bar, chewed it (another strange sensation) and quite quickly figured out he had a distaste for human food textures in his mouth.
Water, however, was acceptable.
"Jazz?" Prowl grimaced after finishing a drink of the water. "Is there a chance there is more food than these bars? The texture is atrocious; it tastes of nothing and creates a terrible sensation in my mouth that I was barely able to swallow one bite of it." Prowl squinted up at the blue visor blur, and added, tautly. "Yes, I did remember to chew the food. I do recall being curious about how you ate as an organic alien species, Jazz."
"It's possible there could be more rations than that." Jazz gave one armored shoulder a shrug. "It would probably be a good idea to go toward more populated areas, if you don't gotta lot of supplies. Water especially, since you'll be goin' through that more quickly." Jazz suddenly let out a delighted whoop when he figured out how to access his subspace, quick to produce a cube. "Nice." Jazz gulped down some of the energon. "I always wondered what this stuff tasted like."
"It's acceptable, though not much compared to pre-war energon on Cybertron." Prowl replied dryly as he set aside the bar of and water bottle. He got down to his hands and knees and really inspected the panels around the pilot chair to see if he could locate anything else to eat. "Engex, however, has retained some of the original taste, although it is now a rarity." Prowl slanted a narrowed look over his shoulder that had nothing to do with poor eyesight. "You, Jazz, ought not to drink any engex, should you happen up until you’ve learned the way your frame reacts to new input and sensations." Prowl's frown joined in with the squint when Jazz grinned slyly. "Inputs and sensations which are just as intricate as human bodies are."
"Wait. Are you bein' serious right now?" Jazz's grin widened. "You're tellin' me that you guys have the human equivalent of alcohol and you never told me?" Jazz raised one servo to press to his chassis, to act as if mortally offended. "I missed out on seein' some drunken shenanigans? Is that somethin' that we, two alien species, share?"
"Yes, and you happened to miss the unfortunate incident that involved Mirage and the rest of Autobot Spec Ops drinking energon that had been mixed with potent pre-war engex that Mirage had been saving. Suffice to say, he was much displeased that Sideswipe had found it."
"Even Sideswipe didn't share?!" Jazz vented, then immediately froze as his helm snapped down to look directly at Prowl. "Wait a damn minute! Was that the ‘incident’ that Hound wouldn’t talk about and had Sideswipe pulling cleanin' duty for weeks?"
Prowl made a noise of agreement before he let out a satisfied exhale as he retrieved another bar that looked slightly more palatable. Once seated again, Prowl held out a small case of some sort that he'd also found. It fit on his palm. "Jazz, do you know what this is for? It doesn't appear to be food." Before Jazz can even respond, even half blind, Prowl can see the utter glee on Jazz's faceplate, his visor brightening to almost blinding. "You know exactly what this is, don't you?"
"Yup." Jazz agreed. "It's a case to hold glasses. For sight."
"Ah." Prowl set the food aside in order to inspect the case better. "For my eyes to be able to see properly."
"Prowler, you gotta put them on." Jazz encouraged, almost breathless in his eagerness. "C'mon, please I need to see what you look like with 'em on. It sounds like you don't got to wear them when hooked up to the mecha, since I'm guessing the sight outta the mecha is fine for ya?"
"It was oddly clearer vison than I currently have." Prowl mused, to himself, mainly, as he indulged Jazz's request. Prowl carefully opened up the small case and unfolds a delicate looking item. He inspected it quickly; small square glass was fit into a frame, with a perch for his olfactory…nose. Prowl placed them there and adjusted the stems on either side until they fit comfortably over his ears. Satisfied he'd gotten them on properly, Prowl looked through the glass and realized with a jolt of surprise that he could now properly see Jazz clearly.
And Jazz?
The Polyhexian was currently vibrating in place with overwhelming excitement while letting out a coo over the sight. Wearing glasses must have been a favorable sight to Jazz, from the way his face vents heated up, smile wide and genuine.
“Human sight is very strange. Why is it like this?” Prowl looked around, took in the scenery, then turned back to Jazz, who’d leaned over for a closer look, mischief visible even with only a bright visor and twitch of derma.
“Looking good there, Prowler." Jazz practically sang out his delight before he teased. "Now we don’t gotta worry about you fallin’ over when your feet are in the ground.”
Prowl opened his mouth to respond when Jazz’s helm jerked to the side, his frame tensing up as that smile turned into a strained one.
That...wasn't good, was it?
"Think you can handle another fight today?"
And there it was.
"If need be, I will." Prowl said with a nod.
"Then let's give the Earth Quint force a welcome they won't forget." Jazz slowly got to his pedes, stepping off to the side in order to give Prowl room to stretch his mecha's limbs out. He obviously didn't want to have Prowl worry about knocking the gangly arms or hitting the bisected wing sensors into Jazz himself. "Gonna want to put the glasses away. Neural link can be finicky, and ya don’t wanna get hit with glass so close to yer eyes, and with a helmet in the way to boot."
Prowl imagined it was not a pleasant experience. He removed the glasses and stored them in the case, swiftly putting it back where he found it. Reluctantly, Prowl replaced the helmet over his head and sat down on the pilot seat, strapping himself in and hitting the buttons Jazz had shown and told him about earlier. It was an unnerving sight, to watch the chest of the mecha slowly close, sealing Prowl inside.
He greatly disliked this.
More so when Prowl engaged the neural link with the mecha that was now his to make use of in battle. However, much to Prowl's immense relief, his battle computer was still there to access, as he’s thought before. But when his tac net spun into motion, despite the slight pain in his head that soon dissipated, he forgot about the discomfort as he began to analyze the situation when he looked out from his mecha's visor.
Jazz was there, already waiting for him.
Despite only having a bite of one bar of food and some water, Prowl felt better, including being able to make use of his battle computer. Driving off the enemy or destroying them would come first before refueling further. And at the moment, Prowl felt more like himself. More in size to his Cybertronian self, and Prowl found, to his immense relief, that he was able to distantly feel his mecha’s sensor wings. He somehow knew that he'd be able to make use of the thrusters made in tandem with the bisected sensor wings to propel him when he needed a boost of speed or dodge or reorient his position. For now, with a battle incoming, Prowl was able to shove down his unease with his species change.
He’d unpack it later if there was time.
For as much as Prowl didn’t care for the sensation of being linked neurally up to a hunk of metal made to kill Quintessons (which were, as Jazz had told him, constructed occasionally with dead parts from the Quints or the fodder they sent) and their armies, it felt better than being so small and fragile as Jazz had been.
That was something else for Prowl to dwell on at a later time.
-
The quiet and relative peace was too good to be true.
A shame, really, but if the Quints had fucked off from Earth, they wouldn't be sending around the same amount of their forces to attack Cybertron.
What did that mean?
It meant that Jazz and Prowl's chat about the how-to function as the opposite of their species had to be put on hold when two large Quintesson soldiers and one smaller scout, broke through the tree line.
One soldier and the scout took swipes at Jazz, as the other solider, slightly larger and clearly engineered with thick armor, went for Prowl.
Trusting Prowl to take care of himself, Jazz flung himself forward, eager to see how well he fought as a cybertronian. Which Jazz began with a nifty and very convenient energon blade stored in his subspace. His center of gravity was more easily calibrated as he bobbed and weaved around the soldier, waiting for an opening. The moment Jazz found one, he darted forward to slam the blade down through the soldier enemy's heavy plated head.
It wasn't enough to kill it.
For alien invaders to go down just like that was much too easy.
Good thing humans were nothing if not persistent.
Even if Jazz currently wasn't one.
Successfully ripping the blade out with a flip of blood off the weapon, Jazz backstepped, practically dancing out of the way of the anticipated claws that shot out to try to shear through his wired neck. Another quick jab of the blade had the armored soldier letting out a furious howl as it stumbled backward to regroup.
With that opening, Jazz checked on Prowl, and was he ever glad he did, able to be appreciative of his partner adapting to a new fighting style.
Proximity warnings were a blessing, as Jazz moved out of the way without looking. This one, the smaller scout, rounded on him to spit a stream of nasty venom. It might have been able to tag Jazz if he didn’t have more proximity warnings go off, a little HUD displaying enemy location with a flash across the inside of his visor.
Cool.
Being a cybertronian was so awesome!
Jazz took a half of a hop step backward right before using the momentum to launch off his braced pede, catching the wing of the scout as it zipped by, completely missing Jazz with the acid. With the first solider still recuperating from Jazz’s initial attack, he took the opportunity to check on Prowl again, able to better appreciate the sight.
Prowl was maneuvering his mecha with only an occasional stumble of digitigrade legs, though each time it was automatically corrected. The thrusters hidden within the bisected sensor panels that were a mockery of the former praxian’s wings.
::You have you own fight to resolve:: Prowl reminded Jazz via a comm, without taking his attention off of the large soldier rattling its plating at him in anger.
::Hey, I can multitask!:: Jazz sent back, as he twisted his much more flexible than realized frame to duck to one side, rummaging in his subspace as the soldier wheeling on its feet to spin back around
Aha!
Jazz aimed the blaster he’d just taken out of his subspace to shoot the quint soldier in the chest, sending it off kilter. It was enough of an opening that allowed Jazz to finish it off with another deep stab of the energon blade into its heavily plated head. It broke something inside of the reinforced skull, the soldier dropping instantly to the grass without a sound out of it, lying still and crumpled where it landed. Jazz would kiss this blade and the blaster if both wouldn't put him into contact with alien blood or a possible accidental shot to the face. And while the energon blade wasn’t like Bebop’s weapons, it worked just as well in hand to hand combat, with hands that could be used like human ones versus the less coordinated hands of the mecha. This was why most weapons on the single pilot mechas tended to be a part of the mecha to be brought forth when needed, or to be retracted when finished with battle.
It wasn’t impossible to wield a gun or a blade with mecha hands, but as a cybertronian, it was so much easier.
Jazz looked up just in time to see Prowl step back from the now dead engineered fodder of a soldier.
Damn.
Jazz had hoped to watch Prowl fight for a little while longer.
Oh well, with their luck, this wouldn’t be the last time that enemies attempted to ambush them.
”Do these soldiers look like the newer ones that had been developed by the quintesson?” Prowl asked from where he stood over the corpse, the head of the mecha tilted.
“Might be.” Jazz gave the dead soldier a once over, a frown at his derma as he attempted to recall what the newest threats Cybertron had begun to face while he’d been living there. “It’s hard to keep track of all the bioengineered troops the quints have cooked up. But I think…these look like some of form of modifications done to some slaves that the quints dropped on the outskirts of Iacon about…three years ago, if I’m rememberin’ correctly.”
”The ones that were presumed to be put into use in an attempt to counter some of the mecha pilots who ended up on Cybertron after you.” Prowl stated, sounding like he was attempting to pull up the correct memory file before recalling that he wasn’t able to do so, based off the frustrated exhale that followed the brief silence.
“Interestin’ that those guys are here now, but I guess it ain’t unexpected, considerin’ the number of mecha pilots concentrated on Earth.” Jazz stepped away from the corpse; it wasn’t like it would do any good to take pieces of its armor when he didn’t need it, and Prowl was practically in pristine condition. Jazz supposed if there was anyone in the area they were welcome to the free money selling the parts to the mecha pilot program. “Maybe the ones three years ago were the test subjects to see how they fared against the pilots that that ended up on Cybertron with me?”
”That is a possibility.” Prowl had moved his mecha away from the large dead heavily armored enemy, sluicing off the yellow tinted blood of the creature he’d dispatched off one arm and across the chassis. Once satisfied with the minimum cleaning, Prowl reattached what appeared to be a rifle between mecha’s bisected wings, just out of range of the thrusters. “I have access to a map of the immediate area on a radar; there do not appear to be any other enemies within range.” Prowl said when he turned his mecha to face Jazz. “Considering a scout was with them, it is likely another group may come to see why this group did not report back in.”
Realizing that he could have multiple thoughts running in his processor at a time, Jazz shunted a few unnecessary thought to the background instinctively while he focused on the matter at hand. Though one other thought lingered, reminding him of the first time he’d been in a group of cybertronians as the only mecha pilot. Of how the mechs and femmes in the room could be holding many conversations, some of them not even face to face. This was apparently common before the war, and it was only due to the mecha pilot’s presence that they were holding mainly face to face conversations with him, out of the politeness to his presumed culture of feeling heard?
Had Prowl been adjusting his usual mode of communication just to make Jazz more comfortable being around an alien?
”-I will have to work on integration with this mecha, as we have no idea how long we will be living as the other’s species-“
Jazz noted that he was paying attention to what Prowl was saying to him, in the same way Jazz had witnessed some cybertronians interacting with one another without looking at one another. Right now, Jazz didn’t even have to turn to fully face him. The thought running just behind that was a reinforcement of the idea that Prowl actively chose to be face to face with Jazz while he was within Bebop.
As a courtesy, outside of official debriefings during Cybertron acting under war protocols that had been around since the war between Decepticons and Autobots broke out, that lingered now through the quintesson war.
“Once you are finished with multiple lines of processor thought, I would like to find a way to resolve the clumsy motion I experienced during battle while within this mecha.” Prowl commented, sounding amused by Jazz’s sudden stillness.
”What gave it away?” Jazz was rather curious. He knew that Prowl paid attention to details, so it’d be good to know what to watch out for in case he needed to make use of the whole ‘running several thoughts all around’ was needed.
”Your visor dimmed by about 33% and you were clenching your denta while pursing your dermas, a common tell when one attempts to follow multiple subjects of interest within the processor.” Prowl stated matter of fact. “If you would like to streamline the process and be able to tag things more efficiently to prevent a cascade error, I am sending you a packet of parameters to enter. It should be intuitive as well as easy to integrate. As interesting it is to see all the lines of thought, it can get overwhelming when not properly managed.”
”Anythin’ else that gave it away?” Jazz questioned as he waited for the packet.
”Your cooling fans all clicked on, indicating you might have overclocked your systems by trying to run too many programs and subroutines at once.” Prowl added, his mecha’s bisected wings rising up a tad and folding the pieces close together. “It happened to Bluestreak, once, when he tried to run too many calculations and scenarios for his specs to fire snipe enemies and it put him on a loop.” Prowl shifted on the digitigrade legs, arms hanging at his side as he moved the mecha wings again. “The medics made certain that he had a limit to hit for the calculations lest he blow out his cooling fans again.
”What kinda calcs?” Jazz watched a warning flash across his HUD. That was probably the cascade Prowl mentioned. “Oh, hang on and gimme a sec. Just got the packet and-whoa!” Jazz set the parameters his partner sent like it was second nature, and suddenly, Jazz’s processor was able to run much more efficiently, and it was quieter to allow him to have his thoughts not running about and bouncing around in his helm. And oh hell yeah, he was still able to run multiple lines of thought but without it cluttering the main focus of his mind. “Damn, the processor is crazy fast. I’m guessing yours runs a lot faster than mine with that battle computer of yours.”
”I believe that Bluestreak had been working to get his aim to within a hairline of 0.01% error when he looked through the scope of his rifle to shoot at the enemies, and then a 0.05% to 0.08% if he had to switch targets in the moment of aiming.” Prowl said, then, with his head turning to point the glowing mecha visor toward Jazz, added. “Yes, I had to run many more parameters to allow myself to perform my function without being overwhelmed by the tac net feeding me scenario after scenario, and any numbers that were involved.” Prowl straightened his mecha up to loom over Jazz as he stepped closer. “Though that reminds me, I will need to run some calculations to adjust for lack of proper weight distribution with the addition of the wings, though the thrusters do make for better maneuverability. Do you happen to have a guide on how to make minute adjustments within the parameters of this machine I am currently in possession of? It would be useful, though I can see why you were so effective a fighter. You must have had much practice and training to move as you did during battles. Often, it appeared like a dance when you fought, including the battle before this one."
“Aww, thanks Prowler.” Jazz beamed at his partner, standing up tall and his armor briefly flaring out at the compliment. “And yeah, took me a whole lotta effort and practice to toss in some of my more questionable moves. Ones that most other mecha pilots wouldn’t dare to attempt since it could potentially open up vulnerabilities, if the enemy could find it.” Jazz grinned at Prowl. “You’ll get the hang of it. I had some trouble rememberin' that I was moving a giant metal limbs. I remember this one time I had a nose itch." Jazz issued out a laugh at the memory. "That was a fun way to find out just how closely the neural link let me experience things when I whacked myself in the mecha's visor an’ nearly broke it.’ Bouncing on his pedes restlessly, Jazz looked around. But when Prowl eased his mecha down to a crouch on its digitigrade legs, Jazz to turn his helm to face Prowl. “You probably ain’t feelin’ too hot, but do ya think you’re up to traveling a bit? What you said made sense about other groups wonderin’ why their scout ain’t checking back in. We should probably get outta here before unwanted attention shows up to cause more trouble.”
Prowl inclined the helm of his mecha, sunlight flashing off the red chevron decorating it, the blue part of the visor dimming a little. His position remained slumped, either through fatigue of the neural link plus the battle or because of the whole situation being very, very confusing and illogical to him.
But hey, least they were alive.
Jazz scanned the forested area nearby now that there currently wasn’t any danger. He'd also had some time to process the whole ‘becoming a different species’ thing. Well…Jazz figured he'd still need some time but that was going to have to be a future-Jazz problem. Current-Jazz’s problem involved figuring out where in the heck he and Prowl had ended up after that busted ass quint portal spat them out here on Earth. Jazz shuffled around on his pedes in a slow circle, vented, then consulted the map Prowl had so nicely included along with those earlier parameters to make his processor not overheat itself.
Well, well, would you look at that?
Some eagerness began to leak out into Jazz’s EM field unknowingly.
What insane luck he and Prowl had on their side today.
If Jazz knew his geography of Earth from the patrols that he ran for the mecha pilot program before, on the lookout for quint forces, then he and Prowl were close to the west coast. And Jazz was thrilled that he appeared to have gotten extra lucky, because based off the partial map, this place was a few days' walk (by mecha) to a little ‘secret’ hideaway.
A town with a clinic that belonged to one particularly cranky doctor. A man who’d grown weary of all the mecha pilot deaths, so, he’d up and left, unable to justify not giving more medical care than had been allowed to get someone up and back out into a fight. Hell, this doc gave the higher ups of the mecha program the middle finger as he left, taking what supplies he could in the middle of the night. Everyone loved to embellish the story, with some pilots swearing up and down the doc blew up the quarters of one particularly nasty fucker that liked to experiment with making mecha pilots connect more seamlessly to work with their mecha. It was likely because of the rumors surrounding the twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, who'd ended up on Cybertron as well about two years ago.
Honestly, if something had happened to the twins, or a few other pilots Ratchet was the primary doctor for, it wouldn't surprise Jazz if Ratchet did something to ensure his patients safety.
Watching as Prowl moved the limbs of his mecha, Jazz's thoughts shifted. He recalled loving to show up at the clinic, usually beat to shit if he was deployed in the area. But he always showed up bearing gifts of medical supplies (and alcohol) to offset the exasperation and bluster that rolled off Ratchet that covered up the real worry over the way Jazz tended to be so reckless in his manner of battling within Bebop.
Well, then there was what Hot Rod did when it came to battle which had caused Jazz to argue with Sideswipe when making bets for mecha pilots and the amount of kills they had. Eventually, it was decided that Hot Rod was an outlier and should not be counted, so he had his very own category; mainly for all the times he lit his mecha on fire and burned quintesson forces. The guy was always proud of himself for protecting the town and clinic when he was stationed there. At least until he mentioned in a forum one time that he'd had to drag the bodies away, Ratchet bitching at him the entire time over possible unsanitary conditions being introduced if the corpses stayed in place. Hot Rod took care of it anyway while cheerfully and loudly yelling back that Ratchet wasn’t appreciative enough of his actions. That he should be praised for doing such a good job protecting his old creaky ass. And this, of course, inevitably led to the infamous moment where Ratchet accurately beaned Hot Rod's mecha helm with a hefty wrench and a shout of ‘I’m not that old!’ and 'I needed that barrier you broke!'
Damn, Jazz sure hoped that Ratchet was alive and kicking, continuing to give the middle to any quintesson force unfortunate enough to land anywhere near his clinic and any patients under his care. And hey, maybe there were some other mech pilots there that Jazz hadn’t gotten to meet before. He couldn’t wait to see their theoretical reactions, and Ratchet's, to see him as a whole ass living metal being. Jazz might even get to talk to some of the sneaky son of a bitch's contacts, because Ratchet happened to have quite a lot of connections (including Orion Pax, who had connections of his own to someone high up in the mecha pilot program).
Jazz wondered if Orion had been able to rise in the ranks enough to join Shockwave in being able to make it mandatory to allow mecha pilots to have longer breaks between raids to recuperate from the strain it put on mind and body.
And if not?
Ratchet had the contacts of plenty of mecha pilots to help coordinate certain pilots coming to his clinic. A kind of 'fly under the radar and get that break' in order to recover from the strain the neural link gave humans after too much time connected to their mecha.
Orion...
Jazz really ought to find a way to get into contact with him sometime, but Prowl took priority right now (he was bending and stretching the mecha this way and that, undoubtably testing the limits of range of motion). Jazz stared up at the sky, struggling to not fall back into his thoughts. Orion likely thought Jazz and many of the mecha pilots that ended up on Cybertron were dead, with the way contact had been lost. And if that was the case, Jazz figured delaying for a little while longer to focus on himself and Prowl was perfectly acceptable, and something Orion would encourage.
Jazz hoped Orion was still alive.
"Are you ready to leave?" A large hand rested on Jazz's shoulder lightly. "You have been giving something a great deal of thought. It looks like it is distressing to you."
"I'm good, no worries. And sure, I'm ready to leave." Jazz flashed a tight smile as he tilted his helm to the side to take in Prowl leaning over him, bisected wing sensors half open. "And I got some destinations in mind, based off the maps ya sent me."
"Lead the way?" Prowl questioned as he removed his hand awkwardly off of Jazz's shoulder. He was getting better with motor control of the mecha already.
"You got it!" Grateful for the distraction, Jazz reoriented himself with the help of a quick peek to the map. Then he practically bounced along the grass on his pedes, Prowl following at a more languid pace, digitigrade legs allowing him to easily keep pace. As Jazz walked, he made the decision then and there that if he and Prowl didn’t happen upon any mecha pilots in the next day or so (aka no supplies available but their own), then heading to Ratchet's would be a convenient place to go and rest up at. Because of course Ratchet would choose to open up a little med clinic in the middle of nowhere off the west coast of the US in a little seaside town, with enough muscle to ensure that no one from the government or the mecha program disrupted him. And Jazz and Prowl just so happened to be lucky with where they had ended up, sans the unexpected species swap.
"Jazz?" Prowl caught up with Jazz to walk alongside him despite their different gaits. He tipped his mecha's helm to the side at the cheery attitude and great big grin with bright vibrant visor he received as a response. Prowl stared, or seemed to, as he turned to face forward. Another moment of silence passed before Prowl spoke. "Jazz, did you find something on the map?"
"Yup." Jazz popped the 'p' as he shimmied forward a little to grin up to where he knew Prowl would see him. “If ya don’t mind a little detour to check for supplies first, we ain't too far from where there is a doctor and possibly other mecha pilots. We can get our bearings there, and it'd be good to be bringing some supplies along with us if we can."
"A search for supplies, then, and we set this clinic as our end destination before regrouping." Prowl summarized in return, clearly unaware of the possible fuckery Jazz had planned. "However, we will not be causing trouble for anyone when we reach said destination."
Or not.
"I imagine harassing anyone when there is a possibility of there being little to no defense to be had in that location is not a good use of time?" Light glinted off the visor as Prowl looked down at Jazz. "I recall that you mentioned in the past that mecha pilots did not always remain in one spot for long depending on the intensity of attacks. I assume this would be possible for this clinic you know of, and its location?"
"Okay, you got me there." Jazz had no idea whether the town itself, let alone the clinic, was still there. And just because Jazz couldn't help himself, he added lightly, teasingly. "And Prowl, are you accusin' me of intentionally stirring up trouble for other people?”
“If there is some way to you to prove a point, you will do so." Prowl responded without hesitation. "Including but not limited to jokes, pranks with the twins when they joined us on Cybertron, and the one instance still clear in my mind of the way you snuck up on other jumpy mecha pilots by draping yourself over another person, in mecha or out, is not a proper perimeter check."
"Hey now, it's all in good fun, ain't it?" Jazz said cheekily, all but picturing Prowl's scowl and furrowed brow, likely cute as hell while he was human and not at all intimidating like he could make his Praxian self be if needed. "It sure got other people's attention, didn't it?"
“With guns and fists.” Prowl deadpanned. "And several fire extinguishers Sideswipe had smuggled within his mecha."
"Hey, had to have at least one person makin' sure that we were all alert and ready for shit to go down."
"Ironhide was in charge of drills."
"Hey, mine were more fun for the humans. Ah, good times." Jazz drawled, smile growing as he watched Prowl manage to make his mecha's wings nearly hike up into 'exasperated fondness' around where his Praxian doorwings would have positioned themselves.
"For you." Prowl eventually responded with a distant tiny sigh from within his mecha.
Jazz's own smile became beaming as his armor fluffed out again, vents expelling heat before the armor settled back into place, waiting for Prowl to finish his thought.
"You do enjoy bringing everyone's mood up with your ridiculous antics, which gives a break to those so used to an unending war. Something else to focus on than the possible hopelessness of the situation." Prowl almost sounded like he was smiling when he turned his mecha's head to look at Jazz. "But no more silly string or air horns. Red Alert was inconsolable for weeks."
"What about the vents?" Jazz asked after giving off the impression of thinking over Prowl's words, though his vents on his cheeks had heated over the compliment that the Praxian had given him about helping with troop morale, whether he intended it or not.
"To use in a practical manner in your possible career chang to Spec Ops that Mirage wants to recruit you into, or to sneak into personal quarters to mark up the visors and faces of mechs and mecha pilots alike?"
Jazz offered what he hoped was an enigmatic smile while inwardly, he was delighted.
Prowl knew him so well.
-
Next chapter:
Jazz and Prowl find out that supplies for humans are low in the area they ended up. After turning up no food, drink or medicine for Prowl, who's also coming down with an illness of some kind, Jazz decides to go through with leading Prowl to where Ratchet may still be (so long as he hasn't moved his clinic in the last years). Jazz is delighted to find that the clinic is still there, as is a sullen mecha pilot who is protective of Ratchet, and another mecha pilot Jazz wasn't expecting to see there pestering both the other pilot and Ratchet. Prowl is not a fan of the first pilot, but Jazz is more interested in the fact that Ratchet and the second pilot are cybertronian now, when they ought to have been human.
-
From note on Ao3:
Not me noticing after the fact that Prowl basically gave Jazz his equivalent of digital cybertronian medication or some kind of aid via the parameters to help Jazz manage his extra thoughts in his own processor without being overwhelmed by them. I feel like the tac net would need to have extra measures to manage to not overwhelm Prowl's own thoughts when running it, and therefore it is why in this fic, Prowl offers the parameters he ran in his own processor as a cybertronian to Jazz, because they'd been a help to Prowl, so he felt it would allow Jazz to organize his thoughts. And be able to access then when he wants them and not all at once, since he hasn't been taught how to do so, and Prowl never had the chance to learn and with the tac net, makes it difficult to do so-but parameters in processor equal efficient handling of it so therefore, it ought to help his partner too. (Might go back later to edit that part a lil ,but I think it's okay how it is-I'm trying to not overthink things too much)
(other note is basically me going wdym my outline is 51 handwritten pages, 101 if you count the backs of the pages, have only used like, 6 or 7 in toltal not including the first two chapters, and I *still* have like, 5 to 7 chapters to outline for the rest of the fic.
It’s cat rules, Shockwave… once it falls asleep on you there’s no moving you’ll ever be able to do unless they wake up and leave 💔 Soundwave also hogs the blanket 😒 tbh he probably should, look at how skinny that boy is…. alas it’s been awhile since I’ve made some Wavewave 🤔 but I suppose it’d be good to for Wavewave Wednesday!
Tarantulas in the mecha pilot au/reverse mecha au fic I’m working on is unintentionally hilarious in that he haunts most of the narrative in the background, spying on Prowl.
So whenever prowl and Jazz do anything together (searching for supplies, maybe holding hands or chilling while Jazz is in minibot loadbearer form hanging out with human prowl, sharing some hidden joke, etc) it can be assumed that Tarantulas is watching from somewhere offscreen, and crashing out hard with varying levels of intensity and emotion, especially when he sees just how close Jazz and Prowl are to one another and there he is, left behind and forgotten…how dare Prowl discard what they had before etc etc etc so Tarantulas is all:
(some memes and gifs)
Edit: yes Tarantulas acting like a bitter ex is the funny part of it all for me. in this fic’s headcanon (taking inspiration from sins of the wreckers/the last stand of the wreckers ( idw?) comics) tarantulas never actually dated prowl in the past, but Tara’s so delusional he thinks making weapons and other things they did together as work counts as a ‘relationship’ and for this fic au I’m gonna toy around with that a bit. But jazz/prowl is the focus for this fic, so it’s mostly going to be background until tarantulas ends up being a problem later.
I have been immersed in handwriting the outline for Topsy Turvy; my plan is to finish the outline to the end, and then post ch 5 (maybe ch six, depending) Friday night /early sat morning
And considering 10 lines for three to four chapters just became 12 pages (24 if you count the back) of handwriting in the outline bringing the total to about 45 pages (90 including the back pages). I still have several chapters to get to the end of it…I’m not sure how long this fic will end up being, (ch 2 was one half page of outline and ch 5 may take up about 4 outline pages) but I’m definitely going to be working on it well into the new year. I’m very invested in this fic and where it’s headed now, especially once into edits XD
tf au mashups are fun
some draft snippets of ch 5 below:
When ur human friend turned Cybertronian finally gets to try energon cause it won’t kill him now. Prowl had earlier endured the horrors of mecha pilot rations.
A case with glasses for Prowl is discovered. Jazz experiences the cute aggression again, because what gives human prowl the right to look so cute and handsome in those glasses??
Oop enemy fight incoming no more time for Jazz to admire prowl wearing those glasses.
Writing a fic about @keferon ‘s mecha pilot jazz au/reverse au is hilarious, and very entertaining. Becuase I had the fic idea laid out to be simply about Prowl/jazz and secondarily ratchet/deadlock (drift) swapping species, but while writing out the new chapters from the outline?
tarantulas added in and being a problem for prowl, breakdown who is just chilling there taking a break from piloting then going ??? WTF happened where did this giant fruity red diva of a metal not-man come from? and then BD days later to Knockout going all why am *I*now suddenly a robot and you’re a mecha pilot??? Because why not add em in I liked the idea of ratchet needing to learn about cybertronian medic stuff from a knockout who’s half distracted being ‘ewww I’m a squishy human’ while also ogling breakdown as a cybertronian. Wheeljack and perceptor being swapped (a mecha pilot and cybertronian respectively) who are the first to confuse Orion pax, followed by Sunstreaker and sideswipe (now cyberteonian) and Bluestreak (now a mecha pilot and stressed for prowl)
Yeah. Orion Pax (the human) decided he absolutely needed to be in the fic for jazz to tell him he’s alive and back to earth after years of being presumed dead but Orion doesn’t tell Jazz that he’s in a similar boat as him (a Cybertronian) and that there’s more pilots/mechs that appeared on earth like Jazz and prowl from a portal and help why are they calling him Optimus prime??
And then there’s mirage and hound, and Jazz is all ‘hey mirage what’s up how’d you and hound get of Cybertron too?…hey wanna go do spy/espionage things with me to get the jump on tarantulas and then maybe the quints?’ and prowl is just in the background almost ripping his hair out because ‘no Jazz do *not* get a now human mirage around tarantulas’. And then shit happens and now mirage is also a problem but a hidden one until later. and then Jazz goes all oops ‘guess I have to fix that now’ and prowl is just. Resigned to his partner going about crazy shenanigans but at least jazz is double armored as a load bearer Cybertronian. Cue more of the outline to write out into chapters.
(Not explicitly mentioned in the fic outline as of yet, but back on Cybertron, poor Optimus prime is wondering why he’s suddenly a mecha pilot and very confused as to where everyone went that had gone on a similar mission as prowl and Jazz).
It has. Been an experience thus far writing this fic, and I may have to change up the ao3 tags.
