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wyntir_knightHere is the second part of Thunder Crashes, and to tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I've gotten Jazz's "voice" right. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.
Part 2
Prowl made his way wearily back to the quarters that he and Ratchet shared. While his shift had been no longer than normal, it had seemed to go on forever. On top of his normal duties, he had also had to deal with the twins and the new paperwork from Ratchet’s escapades.
He couldn’t rationalize putting Ratchet in the brig, because even though he had stolen supplies, he was their CMO and Perceptor had claimed that he had given the ore to him. As such, he also couldn’t put the twins in the brig for following the orders of a superior, regardless of whether that superior had the authority to give the order or not. Sideswipe had taken the lack of disciplinary action as carte blanche and had flaunted it. Somehow, and Prowl wasn’t sure how, this had led to a fight that had left the twins in the brig and Powerglide in medical.
Under normal circumstances, these events wouldn’t have been a burden, but today’s circumstances were hardly normal. Whispers had followed him down the halls, conversations had stopped when he entered a room, and when he had gone to check on Powerglide’s condition all three medics had treated him with the cool indifference and formality reserved for an unwelcome stranger. And through everything a portion of his processor kept running the morning’s argument trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He replayed every word, every movement, analyzing every nuance and always coming back to Ratchet’s accusation that he considered the other Autobots numbers and nothing more.
Upon entering their room he noticed immediately that things were missing. Ratchet hadn’t moved out completely, but enough things were gone that it was obvious he wasn’t planning on returning any time soon. His attention was diverted to the console where an unread message notice flashed rhythmically. Seating himself at the desk, he read the note and felt his disappointment grow.
Shift reassignment notification: Due to unforeseen circumstances and until further notice all future medical “On Call” shifts have been reassigned to CMO Ratchet. All further contact is to be directed to the medical wing.
Prowl sighed and moved to the recharge berth. He sat heavily and began to rub his temples with his fingertips. This had not gone as it was supposed to. He had never told Ratchet that he couldn’t have the supplies; he had only said that they didn’t have time to get them immediately. If he had thought for even a moment that the attack on the supply shuttle and the resulting piracy would have threatened Autobots’ lives, he would have made the new shipment a priority. But he had crunched the numbers and the risk caused by waiting a week had been minimal; Ratchet refused the see that fact. He steadfastly refused to take a logical approach with anything and disobeyed regulations at every given opportunity. It was to the point where Prowl had to wonder if Ratchet hadn’t been looking for a fight.
The door chime pulled him away from his thoughts.
“Enter,” he said wearily
The door slid open and Jazz sauntered in. He dropped into a chair and looked at Prowl for a long time not saying anything.
“I seems that Ratchet is moving out,” Prowl said, breaking the silence, avoiding his best friend’s gaze.
“Well what’d ya expect after the fight this morning?” Jazz asked.
“You heard that?”
Jazz looked at Prowl askance. “You’re kidding, right? They heard it over in the Nemesis,” he said, crooking his thumb in the general direction of the Decepticon base.
“Great,” Prowl muttered. “That’s just great. Well it certainly explains the looks I’ve been getting today.”
“Yup,” Jazz replied. “It didn’t take long fer a nice game o’ grapevine to get started. It must be a slow week ’cause you two are all anyone’s talkin’ about and they’re startin’ to take sides.”
“Fantastic,” Prowl muttered to himself. “Alright, fine. So what do I need to know?” he asked, finally looking up at the saboteur.
“Well, see, here’s the thing; First Aid ran off to the Protectobots and Swoop headed back to the Dinobots and both of ‘em told their side of the story, or at least what they thought was their side of it. The problem is that Aid wasn’t around t’ hear it at all, and you know how bad Swoop is at tellin’ a story. Facts got messed up right from the get go. And then, when other jaws got to waggin’ the rumours started to fly and mutate, and now it don’t matter what actually happened, because everyone knows what really happened, if you know what I mean.”
“I know how a grapevine works, Jazz. Just tell me what I need to know,” Prowl prompted.
“And the rumour mill is gonna float for a good long time on you two, that is for sure,” Jazz replied, ignoring Prowl’s request. He leaned back and put his feet on the desk, apparently oblivious to the 2IC’s glower.
“Jazz, please. The point. What do I need to know?” Prowl asked wearily.
“Well, here are the most persistent ones,” Jazz began. “Apparently you and Ratch’ are completely and irrevocably broken up, an’ my being in here alone with you probably doesn’t help that rumour any.” Jazz leered lecherously at Prowl before continuing. “Apparently you and I have been going at it like petro-rabbits in heat, and that’s what caused the fight in the first place. Apparently Ratchet caught us flagrante delicto, red handed, right in the act!”
“I know what the term means, Jazz. I don’t need a lesson in Latin,” Prowl said.
“Mind you, there’re those who claim that the problem is with Ratchet and Wheeljack, if ya get my drift,” Jazz continued as if Prowl had never spoken.
“Is that the worst of it?” Prowl asked, hoping it was and knowing it wasn’t.
“Oh no, it gets better. Apparently the fight came to blows. Some say that you hit Ratchet and others say that he hit you. Well, actually no, they say that you hit him and then he handed you your aft. Apparently in a knock down drag out, most people put their money on the good doc.”
“Great,” Prowl grumbled.
“Oh and wait for it, we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. There is one persistent little bugger that no one’s taking seriously, but isn’t likely to go away any time soon either. Apparently you haven’t arrested Ratchet because you’re sleeping with him, which isn’t so bad on its own. But that particular beauty has already morphed to include the twins.”
“Do I even want to know what is being said about that?” Prowl asked.
“Prolly not, but I’m gonna tell you anyway,” Jazz replied, getting up from the chair and sitting next to Prowl on the berth. “There’s actually two versions goin’ around. One of ‘em says that Ratchet’s got something on you an’ he’s usin’ it to keep them out of trouble. That one got pretty much quashed after this afternoon’s brawl in the lounge. The other is that Prime won’t let you take action against Ratchet, and so yer takin’ yer aggression out on the twins. That particular rumour involves manacles and pain rods, but Smokescreen wouldn’t go inta details on what he’s heard exactly.”
“Great. That’s just great,” Prowl groaned, burying his head in his hands.
Jazz laid a comforting hand on Prowl’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry m’man. It’ll blow over soon enough and everythin’ll be right as rain. I give it a week, tops, before the mill’s died down and you an’ Ratch are back t’gether.”
Part 2
Prowl made his way wearily back to the quarters that he and Ratchet shared. While his shift had been no longer than normal, it had seemed to go on forever. On top of his normal duties, he had also had to deal with the twins and the new paperwork from Ratchet’s escapades.
He couldn’t rationalize putting Ratchet in the brig, because even though he had stolen supplies, he was their CMO and Perceptor had claimed that he had given the ore to him. As such, he also couldn’t put the twins in the brig for following the orders of a superior, regardless of whether that superior had the authority to give the order or not. Sideswipe had taken the lack of disciplinary action as carte blanche and had flaunted it. Somehow, and Prowl wasn’t sure how, this had led to a fight that had left the twins in the brig and Powerglide in medical.
Under normal circumstances, these events wouldn’t have been a burden, but today’s circumstances were hardly normal. Whispers had followed him down the halls, conversations had stopped when he entered a room, and when he had gone to check on Powerglide’s condition all three medics had treated him with the cool indifference and formality reserved for an unwelcome stranger. And through everything a portion of his processor kept running the morning’s argument trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He replayed every word, every movement, analyzing every nuance and always coming back to Ratchet’s accusation that he considered the other Autobots numbers and nothing more.
Upon entering their room he noticed immediately that things were missing. Ratchet hadn’t moved out completely, but enough things were gone that it was obvious he wasn’t planning on returning any time soon. His attention was diverted to the console where an unread message notice flashed rhythmically. Seating himself at the desk, he read the note and felt his disappointment grow.
Shift reassignment notification: Due to unforeseen circumstances and until further notice all future medical “On Call” shifts have been reassigned to CMO Ratchet. All further contact is to be directed to the medical wing.
Prowl sighed and moved to the recharge berth. He sat heavily and began to rub his temples with his fingertips. This had not gone as it was supposed to. He had never told Ratchet that he couldn’t have the supplies; he had only said that they didn’t have time to get them immediately. If he had thought for even a moment that the attack on the supply shuttle and the resulting piracy would have threatened Autobots’ lives, he would have made the new shipment a priority. But he had crunched the numbers and the risk caused by waiting a week had been minimal; Ratchet refused the see that fact. He steadfastly refused to take a logical approach with anything and disobeyed regulations at every given opportunity. It was to the point where Prowl had to wonder if Ratchet hadn’t been looking for a fight.
The door chime pulled him away from his thoughts.
“Enter,” he said wearily
The door slid open and Jazz sauntered in. He dropped into a chair and looked at Prowl for a long time not saying anything.
“I seems that Ratchet is moving out,” Prowl said, breaking the silence, avoiding his best friend’s gaze.
“Well what’d ya expect after the fight this morning?” Jazz asked.
“You heard that?”
Jazz looked at Prowl askance. “You’re kidding, right? They heard it over in the Nemesis,” he said, crooking his thumb in the general direction of the Decepticon base.
“Great,” Prowl muttered. “That’s just great. Well it certainly explains the looks I’ve been getting today.”
“Yup,” Jazz replied. “It didn’t take long fer a nice game o’ grapevine to get started. It must be a slow week ’cause you two are all anyone’s talkin’ about and they’re startin’ to take sides.”
“Fantastic,” Prowl muttered to himself. “Alright, fine. So what do I need to know?” he asked, finally looking up at the saboteur.
“Well, see, here’s the thing; First Aid ran off to the Protectobots and Swoop headed back to the Dinobots and both of ‘em told their side of the story, or at least what they thought was their side of it. The problem is that Aid wasn’t around t’ hear it at all, and you know how bad Swoop is at tellin’ a story. Facts got messed up right from the get go. And then, when other jaws got to waggin’ the rumours started to fly and mutate, and now it don’t matter what actually happened, because everyone knows what really happened, if you know what I mean.”
“I know how a grapevine works, Jazz. Just tell me what I need to know,” Prowl prompted.
“And the rumour mill is gonna float for a good long time on you two, that is for sure,” Jazz replied, ignoring Prowl’s request. He leaned back and put his feet on the desk, apparently oblivious to the 2IC’s glower.
“Jazz, please. The point. What do I need to know?” Prowl asked wearily.
“Well, here are the most persistent ones,” Jazz began. “Apparently you and Ratch’ are completely and irrevocably broken up, an’ my being in here alone with you probably doesn’t help that rumour any.” Jazz leered lecherously at Prowl before continuing. “Apparently you and I have been going at it like petro-rabbits in heat, and that’s what caused the fight in the first place. Apparently Ratchet caught us flagrante delicto, red handed, right in the act!”
“I know what the term means, Jazz. I don’t need a lesson in Latin,” Prowl said.
“Mind you, there’re those who claim that the problem is with Ratchet and Wheeljack, if ya get my drift,” Jazz continued as if Prowl had never spoken.
“Is that the worst of it?” Prowl asked, hoping it was and knowing it wasn’t.
“Oh no, it gets better. Apparently the fight came to blows. Some say that you hit Ratchet and others say that he hit you. Well, actually no, they say that you hit him and then he handed you your aft. Apparently in a knock down drag out, most people put their money on the good doc.”
“Great,” Prowl grumbled.
“Oh and wait for it, we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. There is one persistent little bugger that no one’s taking seriously, but isn’t likely to go away any time soon either. Apparently you haven’t arrested Ratchet because you’re sleeping with him, which isn’t so bad on its own. But that particular beauty has already morphed to include the twins.”
“Do I even want to know what is being said about that?” Prowl asked.
“Prolly not, but I’m gonna tell you anyway,” Jazz replied, getting up from the chair and sitting next to Prowl on the berth. “There’s actually two versions goin’ around. One of ‘em says that Ratchet’s got something on you an’ he’s usin’ it to keep them out of trouble. That one got pretty much quashed after this afternoon’s brawl in the lounge. The other is that Prime won’t let you take action against Ratchet, and so yer takin’ yer aggression out on the twins. That particular rumour involves manacles and pain rods, but Smokescreen wouldn’t go inta details on what he’s heard exactly.”
“Great. That’s just great,” Prowl groaned, burying his head in his hands.
Jazz laid a comforting hand on Prowl’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry m’man. It’ll blow over soon enough and everythin’ll be right as rain. I give it a week, tops, before the mill’s died down and you an’ Ratch are back t’gether.”
