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wyntir_knightTitle: The Polyhex Candidate: Chapter 15
Fandom: Transformers: Generation One
Characters & Relationships: Smokescreen, Mirage, Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Optimus Prime, Ultra Magnus, Red Alert, Ironhide, Perceptor, Wheeljack.
Jazz/Prowl, Wheeljack/Ratchet/Perceptor, mentions of Smokescreen/Swindle, Jazz/Mirage, Jazz/Smokescreen.
Rating: R
Warnings: graphic violence, dub-con, attempted rape, implication of bondage, mentions of rape, mentions of torture, reprogramming, tactile, spark-sex, plug-and-play
Summary: A year ago Jazz was captured by the Decepticons and reprogrammed into a walking time-bomb. Now that he has returned to the Autobots his new programming has kicked in and he has left chaos in his wake. It's up to Smokescreen and Mirage to find Jazz and bring him back to their side and back to sanity before he is completely lost. Meanwhile Prowl and Ultra Magnus try to keep Iacon from destroying itself as panic grips the populace, and as Prowl fights for his sanity after a year's separation from his bonded and the sure knowledge that Jazz may not survive.
Notes on terminology:
Second = Klik (8.3 seconds)
Minute = Breem (83 seconds)
Hour = Groon (83 minutes)
Day = Orn (33 Hours)
Week = Cycle (10 days)
Month = Quartrex (4 weeks)
Year = Solar (13 months – 432 days)
Century = Vorn (83 years)
Chapter 14
Chapter 15 on A03 or below the cut.
Smokescreen drove madly after Jazz, barely managing to keep the saboteur in his sights. As fast as he was, Jazz was faster, but he was also distracted; weaving and twisting wildly as he drove through the streets of Iacon. Had he kept to the air or taken a straight route to wherever he was going there would be no way for Smokescreen to have caught up, but every time he slammed into a wall or a group of civilians, he slowed and that was giving Smokescreen just the edge he needed to start catching up. There were several points when he nearly reached the saboteur but never close enough to risk transforming and he didn’t dare fire any of his weapons with so many civilians in the way. There were going to be more than enough deactivations today as it was without him adding any.
Smokescreen opened his comms and sent a ping to Jazz, cycling through the various frequencies as he tried to find the right one.
“… get them in there! We’re locking everything down now!” Ironhide yelled out over the comms. “You are to get everyone, and I do mean everyone inside. The general lockdown is in effect-“
Smokescreen switched frequencies away from Ironhide and his troops, cycling past military and civilian alike until he finally reached the familiar voice of Jazz. He was muttering in Vos and Polyhexian and other traditionally Decepticon dialects that Smokescreen only partially understood. One thing that was clear though was that Jazz was arguing vehemently with someone, but the comm signal seemed to be on a loop that returned only to Jazz.
"It's done ... NO it is done! I'm finished! ... You PROMISED! You swore that I could as soon as I was done!" Jazz mumbled as he turned a corner, fishtailing dangerously as he lost control and slammed into the corner of a building. "I ain't discussin' this no more! You promised and I'm gonna get what's mine! .... please ... you promised ..."
Smokescreen patched into the comm line and began to speak, his voice carefully modulated to sound sincere and nonthreatening.
"Jazz, it's fine. You've done everything you need to do and you can come back to us now," he said in a low, soothing voice. "You can come back home. Everything will be fine."
Jazz's laugh could be heard over the comm and through the air. It was full of bitter pain and deep despair. As if the words gave him an additional push, he straightened and sped off, focused as if for the first time.
"Primus slag it!" Smokescreen spat as he sped up, straining his engine to close the gap between him and the saboteur. He could feel himself start to redline as he angrily brushed warnings out of his HUD.
Finally they reached their destination. The Smelting Pools.
Jazz slowed and transformed, instantly bounding up the steps to the glowing red mouths of the pools. Smokescreen wasted no time. Without thinking of the consequesnces, he transformed and fired at Jazz, sending out a web of interference. He knew that his weapon was too close to Jazz's own and that the saboteur would be able to compensate, but Primus willing, the shot would give him just enough time to pounce and contain Jazz. Unfortunately for him, Jazz was more than ready for an attack.
Smokescreen jumped, aiming to land on Jazz's back, but the second he was within reach, Jazz spun and grabbed him, twisting in one easy movement as he pinned the psychologist to the plating.
"This doesn't concern you, Smokey," Jazz growled in a broken and static filled voice. "Stay down and don't make me kill you, mech."
Without waiting for a reply, Jazz stood and walked purposefully toward the open mouth of the smelting pool and it was clear in that moment that the saboteur was going to throw himself in.
"No!" Smokescreen cried as he launched himself again at Jazz. "Jazz! Stop this! We can talk this through! We can go home and we can all sit down and talk. Just you, me, and Prowl, okay?"
"Prowl's dead. I killed him myself. I killed all of them." Jazz's tone was broken, but the words came out like they were recorded long ago and were coming back via playback. "Don't make me kill you too, Smokey. Y'er not on the list."
Smokescreen continued to fight, punching and kicking and grabbing in a desperate attempt to distract Jazz, to pull him from the pool and certain death.
"They're fine and I can prove it," he gasped. It had been far too long since he'd seen hand to hand combat, and even when he had been with Special Operations, he had been no match for Jazz. "I just need you to come with me. Come back with me and I promise that I'll prove it to you."
Jazz grabbed one of Smokescreen's fists right before it made contact and twisted the attached arm up and behind the Praxian's back.
"You know, they've never sent you after me before," Jazz whispered into Smokescreen's audio, and as he spoke his voice changed. Gone was the hesitant, static filled despair, and in it's place was something strong, cold, and terribly cruel. "It was always someone I cared for before. That always made it hard. Killing those I love. You'll make a nice change, Smokescreen. After all, I do owe you this."
The last word was hissed as Jazz pushed Smokescreen forward forcibly, while never letting go of his twisted arm. The Praxian cried out as he felt something crack in the joints and suddenly he was let go, free to do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, the last shove put him at the mouth of the open pool, and all it took was a gentle, almost teasing touch to send him into the gaping maw. The last thing he saw was the purple glow of Jazz's visor.
Smokescreen grabbed desperately at the edge, feet scrabbling for purchase on the rough sides of the pool. Whatever Jazz had done to his arm has weakened it significantly and there was no way that he would be able to hold on much longer. He was going to fall and that would be the end of it.
"Please .... no, not like this," he whispered as he tried to pull himself up. He could feel the heat of the pool, hot enough to start to bubble the finish off of his feet and legs. In a few short minutes his joints would seize and he's feel his metal skin begin to melt. "Please ... Primus, not like this ..."
A shadow fell across him and as he looked up he saw Jazz staring down at him.
"Jazz, please, this isn't you. You're stronger than this, mech. You need to remember who you are and come back to us."
"I am coming back to you. Sorry you had to get in the way, Smokey." Jazz's voice sounded genuinely sorry, but he made no attempt to help the psychologist. Instead he faced the pool and prepared to jump.
Suddenly Jazz was pulled back from the edge. There was a sharp cry, the clang of metal against metal, and then nothing. For what felt like forever, Smokescreen hung from the lip of the pool, desperately trying to pull himself out and failing. He was going to die here and there was nothing he was going to be able to do about it.
With a shiver he pulled up a long forgotten program and prepared to wipe his memory core. At least he wouldn't have to feel the agonizing pain of hitting that molten slag.
Right as he was about to activate the program a pair of slim blue hands took hold of his wrists and pulled him up and over the edge of the pool. He fell in an ungainly pile of limbs on top of the slim form of another mech. Cycling his optics he found himself staring into the vaguely amused and highly disgusted yellow optics of Mirage, and just like in the alleyway, he wasn't sure if he wanted to punch or kiss the former noblemech.
Smokescreen rolled away before he could do something unbelievably stupid and irreparable.
“Thank you,” he said breathlessly as he lay flat on his back on the ground.
Mirage let out a non-committal sound and sat up. “Don’t make me regret it. … and you owe me two now.”
"How do you figure two?" Smokescreen asked. "I saved you from getting your aft handed to you by Jazz in the alley."
"You and I remember the events of that alley very differently," Mirage replied as he stood and carefully moved to the prone form of Jazz.
"You saved me here and in the alley," Smokescreen replied as he helped Mirage to lift the saboteur. "And then I saved you from Jazz in the sniper's nest."
"I was perfectly capable of protecting myself, Smokescreen," Mirage replied derisively.
"As was I in the alley. Primus! I'd forgotten just how heavy he is!" Smokescreen groaned as he took the majority of Jazz's weight against his undamaged shoulder and arm.
Together they moved the offline mech through the almost empty streets, doing their best to stay ahead of the Autobot guards and the mobs of protesters who hadn't been scared off by the prospect of a Decepticon attack. It didn't take long to reach a safehouse that was hidden among the warehouses of the docks serving the Rust Sea.
"I never knew this one was here," Smokescreen said as he pulled Jazz into the main room and kicked the door shut behind him.
"There are two recharge rooms set up," Mirage said, ignoring Smokescreen's comment. "We'll put Jazz in the one on the left since it's slightly larger and we can use the other one in shifts."
"Sounds fine," Smokescreen replied.
In a moment they had Jazz on the berth and Smokescreen had attached a small medical device to the saboteur's head and neck, connecting it to several access ports.
"And that's that," he said. "Once this little darling does its job, Jazz will wake up and I can start evaluating him. As soon as I have a better idea of his mental state, we'll know how we can proceed."
"Will this take long?" Mirage asked.
Smokescreen shrugged slightly. "Maybe a few breen. Half a groon at most."
“Good. then would you care to explain why you ran off without a plan in place?” Mirage asked tightly.
“We didn’t have time to discuss things, Raj,” Smokescreen replied, knowing full well that the nickname would irritate the spy.
Mirage’s lips thinned into a tight line but he refused to rise to the obvious bait. Instead he kept on the same track.
“You aren’t going to distract me, Smokescreen. What you did was unbelievably stupid and it could have gotten you killed.”
“Aw, and here I thought you didn’t care, Mirage.” Smokescreen made no attempt to mask the mocking tone or hide the smirk that tugged at his lips.
“Do not mistake my concern for this mission and for Jazz as a concern for your well-being,” Mirage said, his patrician drawl doing nothing to hide the contempt in his voice.
Smokescreen sighed and turned away from the device and Jazz.
“You know, Mirage, this whole attitude is severely counter-productive. In fact, I’d be tempted to say that you’re pushing me away for a deeper reason; that this whole hate-on you have for me is masking your true feelings.”
“Then you would be wrong,” Mirage replied coldly. “My reasons are clear and on the record. However, I am fully willing to put aside my personal feelings for the good of this mission. Something, I might add, that you seems either unwilling or incapable of doing. Instead you’re hiding behind crass flirtations and psychobabble.”
Smokescreen’s chevron arched slightly at the response. “Crass flirtations and psychobabble? Trust me, Mirage, there is nothing crass about my flirtations,” he said, an amused and somewhat predatory look forming in his optics.
He seemed about to say more, but the device in his hand beeped, drawing his attention away.
“And that’s that,” Smokescreen said, suddenly completely professional. “He should be online momentarily and then I can start his up. I’ll need you outside. I want Jazz to feel as comfortable as possible and he’s not likely to talk with an audience present.
Mirage’s lips thinned, but gave a curt nod and turned to leave the room.
“I’ll be right outside.” The simple statement managed to sound like both a promise and a warning to the psychologist.
Chapter 16 (link to follow)
Fandom: Transformers: Generation One
Characters & Relationships: Smokescreen, Mirage, Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Optimus Prime, Ultra Magnus, Red Alert, Ironhide, Perceptor, Wheeljack.
Jazz/Prowl, Wheeljack/Ratchet/Perceptor, mentions of Smokescreen/Swindle, Jazz/Mirage, Jazz/Smokescreen.
Rating: R
Warnings: graphic violence, dub-con, attempted rape, implication of bondage, mentions of rape, mentions of torture, reprogramming, tactile, spark-sex, plug-and-play
Summary: A year ago Jazz was captured by the Decepticons and reprogrammed into a walking time-bomb. Now that he has returned to the Autobots his new programming has kicked in and he has left chaos in his wake. It's up to Smokescreen and Mirage to find Jazz and bring him back to their side and back to sanity before he is completely lost. Meanwhile Prowl and Ultra Magnus try to keep Iacon from destroying itself as panic grips the populace, and as Prowl fights for his sanity after a year's separation from his bonded and the sure knowledge that Jazz may not survive.
Notes on terminology:
Second = Klik (8.3 seconds)
Minute = Breem (83 seconds)
Hour = Groon (83 minutes)
Day = Orn (33 Hours)
Week = Cycle (10 days)
Month = Quartrex (4 weeks)
Year = Solar (13 months – 432 days)
Century = Vorn (83 years)
Chapter 14
Chapter 15 on A03 or below the cut.
Smokescreen drove madly after Jazz, barely managing to keep the saboteur in his sights. As fast as he was, Jazz was faster, but he was also distracted; weaving and twisting wildly as he drove through the streets of Iacon. Had he kept to the air or taken a straight route to wherever he was going there would be no way for Smokescreen to have caught up, but every time he slammed into a wall or a group of civilians, he slowed and that was giving Smokescreen just the edge he needed to start catching up. There were several points when he nearly reached the saboteur but never close enough to risk transforming and he didn’t dare fire any of his weapons with so many civilians in the way. There were going to be more than enough deactivations today as it was without him adding any.
Smokescreen opened his comms and sent a ping to Jazz, cycling through the various frequencies as he tried to find the right one.
“… get them in there! We’re locking everything down now!” Ironhide yelled out over the comms. “You are to get everyone, and I do mean everyone inside. The general lockdown is in effect-“
Smokescreen switched frequencies away from Ironhide and his troops, cycling past military and civilian alike until he finally reached the familiar voice of Jazz. He was muttering in Vos and Polyhexian and other traditionally Decepticon dialects that Smokescreen only partially understood. One thing that was clear though was that Jazz was arguing vehemently with someone, but the comm signal seemed to be on a loop that returned only to Jazz.
"It's done ... NO it is done! I'm finished! ... You PROMISED! You swore that I could as soon as I was done!" Jazz mumbled as he turned a corner, fishtailing dangerously as he lost control and slammed into the corner of a building. "I ain't discussin' this no more! You promised and I'm gonna get what's mine! .... please ... you promised ..."
Smokescreen patched into the comm line and began to speak, his voice carefully modulated to sound sincere and nonthreatening.
"Jazz, it's fine. You've done everything you need to do and you can come back to us now," he said in a low, soothing voice. "You can come back home. Everything will be fine."
Jazz's laugh could be heard over the comm and through the air. It was full of bitter pain and deep despair. As if the words gave him an additional push, he straightened and sped off, focused as if for the first time.
"Primus slag it!" Smokescreen spat as he sped up, straining his engine to close the gap between him and the saboteur. He could feel himself start to redline as he angrily brushed warnings out of his HUD.
Finally they reached their destination. The Smelting Pools.
Jazz slowed and transformed, instantly bounding up the steps to the glowing red mouths of the pools. Smokescreen wasted no time. Without thinking of the consequesnces, he transformed and fired at Jazz, sending out a web of interference. He knew that his weapon was too close to Jazz's own and that the saboteur would be able to compensate, but Primus willing, the shot would give him just enough time to pounce and contain Jazz. Unfortunately for him, Jazz was more than ready for an attack.
Smokescreen jumped, aiming to land on Jazz's back, but the second he was within reach, Jazz spun and grabbed him, twisting in one easy movement as he pinned the psychologist to the plating.
"This doesn't concern you, Smokey," Jazz growled in a broken and static filled voice. "Stay down and don't make me kill you, mech."
Without waiting for a reply, Jazz stood and walked purposefully toward the open mouth of the smelting pool and it was clear in that moment that the saboteur was going to throw himself in.
"No!" Smokescreen cried as he launched himself again at Jazz. "Jazz! Stop this! We can talk this through! We can go home and we can all sit down and talk. Just you, me, and Prowl, okay?"
"Prowl's dead. I killed him myself. I killed all of them." Jazz's tone was broken, but the words came out like they were recorded long ago and were coming back via playback. "Don't make me kill you too, Smokey. Y'er not on the list."
Smokescreen continued to fight, punching and kicking and grabbing in a desperate attempt to distract Jazz, to pull him from the pool and certain death.
"They're fine and I can prove it," he gasped. It had been far too long since he'd seen hand to hand combat, and even when he had been with Special Operations, he had been no match for Jazz. "I just need you to come with me. Come back with me and I promise that I'll prove it to you."
Jazz grabbed one of Smokescreen's fists right before it made contact and twisted the attached arm up and behind the Praxian's back.
"You know, they've never sent you after me before," Jazz whispered into Smokescreen's audio, and as he spoke his voice changed. Gone was the hesitant, static filled despair, and in it's place was something strong, cold, and terribly cruel. "It was always someone I cared for before. That always made it hard. Killing those I love. You'll make a nice change, Smokescreen. After all, I do owe you this."
The last word was hissed as Jazz pushed Smokescreen forward forcibly, while never letting go of his twisted arm. The Praxian cried out as he felt something crack in the joints and suddenly he was let go, free to do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, the last shove put him at the mouth of the open pool, and all it took was a gentle, almost teasing touch to send him into the gaping maw. The last thing he saw was the purple glow of Jazz's visor.
Smokescreen grabbed desperately at the edge, feet scrabbling for purchase on the rough sides of the pool. Whatever Jazz had done to his arm has weakened it significantly and there was no way that he would be able to hold on much longer. He was going to fall and that would be the end of it.
"Please .... no, not like this," he whispered as he tried to pull himself up. He could feel the heat of the pool, hot enough to start to bubble the finish off of his feet and legs. In a few short minutes his joints would seize and he's feel his metal skin begin to melt. "Please ... Primus, not like this ..."
A shadow fell across him and as he looked up he saw Jazz staring down at him.
"Jazz, please, this isn't you. You're stronger than this, mech. You need to remember who you are and come back to us."
"I am coming back to you. Sorry you had to get in the way, Smokey." Jazz's voice sounded genuinely sorry, but he made no attempt to help the psychologist. Instead he faced the pool and prepared to jump.
Suddenly Jazz was pulled back from the edge. There was a sharp cry, the clang of metal against metal, and then nothing. For what felt like forever, Smokescreen hung from the lip of the pool, desperately trying to pull himself out and failing. He was going to die here and there was nothing he was going to be able to do about it.
With a shiver he pulled up a long forgotten program and prepared to wipe his memory core. At least he wouldn't have to feel the agonizing pain of hitting that molten slag.
Right as he was about to activate the program a pair of slim blue hands took hold of his wrists and pulled him up and over the edge of the pool. He fell in an ungainly pile of limbs on top of the slim form of another mech. Cycling his optics he found himself staring into the vaguely amused and highly disgusted yellow optics of Mirage, and just like in the alleyway, he wasn't sure if he wanted to punch or kiss the former noblemech.
Smokescreen rolled away before he could do something unbelievably stupid and irreparable.
“Thank you,” he said breathlessly as he lay flat on his back on the ground.
Mirage let out a non-committal sound and sat up. “Don’t make me regret it. … and you owe me two now.”
"How do you figure two?" Smokescreen asked. "I saved you from getting your aft handed to you by Jazz in the alley."
"You and I remember the events of that alley very differently," Mirage replied as he stood and carefully moved to the prone form of Jazz.
"You saved me here and in the alley," Smokescreen replied as he helped Mirage to lift the saboteur. "And then I saved you from Jazz in the sniper's nest."
"I was perfectly capable of protecting myself, Smokescreen," Mirage replied derisively.
"As was I in the alley. Primus! I'd forgotten just how heavy he is!" Smokescreen groaned as he took the majority of Jazz's weight against his undamaged shoulder and arm.
Together they moved the offline mech through the almost empty streets, doing their best to stay ahead of the Autobot guards and the mobs of protesters who hadn't been scared off by the prospect of a Decepticon attack. It didn't take long to reach a safehouse that was hidden among the warehouses of the docks serving the Rust Sea.
"I never knew this one was here," Smokescreen said as he pulled Jazz into the main room and kicked the door shut behind him.
"There are two recharge rooms set up," Mirage said, ignoring Smokescreen's comment. "We'll put Jazz in the one on the left since it's slightly larger and we can use the other one in shifts."
"Sounds fine," Smokescreen replied.
In a moment they had Jazz on the berth and Smokescreen had attached a small medical device to the saboteur's head and neck, connecting it to several access ports.
"And that's that," he said. "Once this little darling does its job, Jazz will wake up and I can start evaluating him. As soon as I have a better idea of his mental state, we'll know how we can proceed."
"Will this take long?" Mirage asked.
Smokescreen shrugged slightly. "Maybe a few breen. Half a groon at most."
“Good. then would you care to explain why you ran off without a plan in place?” Mirage asked tightly.
“We didn’t have time to discuss things, Raj,” Smokescreen replied, knowing full well that the nickname would irritate the spy.
Mirage’s lips thinned into a tight line but he refused to rise to the obvious bait. Instead he kept on the same track.
“You aren’t going to distract me, Smokescreen. What you did was unbelievably stupid and it could have gotten you killed.”
“Aw, and here I thought you didn’t care, Mirage.” Smokescreen made no attempt to mask the mocking tone or hide the smirk that tugged at his lips.
“Do not mistake my concern for this mission and for Jazz as a concern for your well-being,” Mirage said, his patrician drawl doing nothing to hide the contempt in his voice.
Smokescreen sighed and turned away from the device and Jazz.
“You know, Mirage, this whole attitude is severely counter-productive. In fact, I’d be tempted to say that you’re pushing me away for a deeper reason; that this whole hate-on you have for me is masking your true feelings.”
“Then you would be wrong,” Mirage replied coldly. “My reasons are clear and on the record. However, I am fully willing to put aside my personal feelings for the good of this mission. Something, I might add, that you seems either unwilling or incapable of doing. Instead you’re hiding behind crass flirtations and psychobabble.”
Smokescreen’s chevron arched slightly at the response. “Crass flirtations and psychobabble? Trust me, Mirage, there is nothing crass about my flirtations,” he said, an amused and somewhat predatory look forming in his optics.
He seemed about to say more, but the device in his hand beeped, drawing his attention away.
“And that’s that,” Smokescreen said, suddenly completely professional. “He should be online momentarily and then I can start his up. I’ll need you outside. I want Jazz to feel as comfortable as possible and he’s not likely to talk with an audience present.
Mirage’s lips thinned, but gave a curt nod and turned to leave the room.
“I’ll be right outside.” The simple statement managed to sound like both a promise and a warning to the psychologist.
Chapter 16 (link to follow)