Sabotage: Alternates

Not-Prowl slides off the berth to stand in front of Jazz, the difference in their height making him look down at Jazz, who seems oddly unconcerned.

"Ya tryin' ta intimidate meh, mech?" Jazz's tone is almost bored. "Yer gonna have ta do better 'n that, an' ta be frank, ya ain' got th' trainin' ta do it."

"And you would know that how?" Not-Prowl asks, fists clenching at his sides. "For all you know, I could have had extensive training."

Jazz snorts. "Ah doubt that very seriously - Ah think ya c'n take care o' yerself, but proper trainin' ta go up against a mech like meh? No way. Either that, or yer teacher was a lousy one." That makes Not-Prowl's optics narrow slightly, and Jazz sees it. "Did Ah hit a sore spot? Wait - lemme guess. Yer teacher was yer version of meh. Ah don' even know mah counterpart an' Ah'm ashamed."

Not-Prowl's fist comes flying at Jazz's head from the right, Jazz's hand coming up and catching it very solidly before it connects. Jazz glances at the fist he's holding captive before turning to the fuming mech in front of him.

"That wasn' very bright. Ah've put mechs in the ground fer worse. he says quietly. "Ah ain' gonna retaliate, but Ah wouldn' try a stunt like that again. It won't work in yer favor." Jazz lets go of Not-Prowl's hand, and steps back. "Read the reports, see what we do. I've got a sit-rep wit Prime ta try an' figure out what we're gonna do with ya."

"Am I to just sit on my hands and wait?"

"If ya know what's good fer ya."

((Hey! Page 2!))

To his surprise, Prowl laughs at that. Honestly laughs, not the semi-hysterical laughter from before. He lets Other-Jazz up, still chuckling. "Sorry. That's just exactly what my Jazz said last time we got in a scuff like that."

Other-Jazz merely sighs and brushes himself off. "Next time, ya ain' gonna drop meh like that." he says, but there's a hint of respect in his voice now. Prowl merely smirks.

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Oh, Ah will."

Other-Prime walks in before either can say anything else. He arches an optic ridge. "Anything interesting happen?"

Prowl merely shakes his head. "Just having a discussion, that's all. So, what brings you here?"

"Mostly heading off Mirage." Other-Prime says, turning his attention to Other-Jazz. "We need to get him and Blaster on locating our Prowl, preferably before Megatron's spies find out about this."

Other-Jazz snorts. "No kiddin'. That's the last thing we need."

Prowl merely watches as the two of them discuss things, committing the conversation to memory. There's a distinct difference in the dynamics between this Jazz and Prime. His Prime was always informed by Jazz, not the other way around. Optimus has never had much to do with ops.

Well, not his Optimus, anyway.

Other-Bluestreak watches this new Prowl, as he leans against the berth and just watches, and he grins. Slowly he walks up to the other and leans on the berth against him. "You always have seen more than anyone gives you credit for."

Prowl hums non-committal, but he smiles at Other-Blue anyway.

Once the doors close behind him, Jazz shakes out his hand. Not-Prowl's punch did have a fair amount of power behind it, if it'd connected, Jazz very likely would have been sent reeling for a moment. Not enough to knock him to the ground, but enough that he'd have been dazed.

He can work with that.

He reaches Prime's door, and grins as he hears Prime and Gunner bickering. Business as usual, with those two. He taps a couple times on the door, and it slides open. Prime looks up, and pauses.

"Jazz?" The visored mech is alone, which is unusual when it comes to ops sit-reps. "Where is Prowl?"

Jazz shakes his head and steps inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. "Ah don' know, an' tha's part of mah sit-rep."

Gunner frowns. "What do you mean, you don't know. You obsessively keep tabs on your entire team."

"Ah don' know! How much clearer do Ah have ta make it?! Ah turned mah back on 'im fer half a second ta arm our bomb, he called mah name, Ah turn around, an' there's this other mech standin' where Prowl used ta be. An' ya c'n tell in seconds it's not Prowl, but he insists tha's his desgination an' everything!" By the time the tirade is over, Jazz is yelling.

Gunner walks very cautiously over to Jazz, and forces the mech into a chair. "Breathe, Jazz. Now, where is this mech now?"

"Medbay. He crashed on th' way here - says it's a defect wit his battle computer. He also says he's Head TO, as well as yer Second where he's from." Jazz mutters, looking up at Prime, who blinks twice. "Ah jus' don' know what ta do. Ah've got Blaster scannin' for Prowler's spark signature. If he pops up, Ah'm requestin' permission ta go after 'im."

Prime nods. "Granted. You might have more backup than you think, too. I'm sure word is already spreading."

"It's likely. Blue went ta th' twins' quarters after we got back, an' Ah'm sure that Smokescreen's gone ta interrogate th' new mech."

"Jazz? This is Blaster. I've found Prowl, but there's a pretty major problem."

"What problem?"

"He's dead in the center of Shockwave's new lair. I know you guys were planning to take it down, but I don't think he'd go and do it without you."

Jazz looks up at Prime and begins to swear.

Suddenly, Prowl feels it.  The sudden, sharp tug just behind his spark, like he's losing his balance.  Automatically, he reaches out to steady himself.  Other-Jazz catches his wrist.  "Um, mech - ya okay?"

"Let - "

And suddenly they're not in the Ark anymore.  They're not on Earth anymore.  Prowl can tell instantly.  The gravity change tells him he's back on Cybertron.  For a moment, he thinks he can relax.

Then he sees it.  Four walls, three berths with restraints, tools all soaked with energon.  And piled in the corner are body parts in a pool of energon.

Shockwave's lair. There's really only one response he can give to that.

"Fuck."

Other-Jazz stands beside him, taking it all in, visor so pale it's white.  "Where are we, mech?" he breathes.

Prowl's optics burn black.  To Other-Jazz's surprise, his hands shake.  "Shockwave."

Other-Jazz takes a step back.  "Nah, mech.  Shockwave ain' do this."

"Not yours.  Mine."

The door on the other side of the room slides open, and a mech with a single optic walks in.  He smiles.  "Prowl.  Such a pleasure to have you again."

In a flash, Prowl's swords are in his hands.  "I really should have known.  What's with the field trip?"

Shockwave shrugs.  "That was one way to get you away from your partner.  Then I had to figure out how to get you back.  Looks like you brought a souvenier back with you."  He smiles.  "Come.  I have so many things I want to do with you."

"Fuck off!"  Faster than Other-Jazz can see, Prowl throws one of his swords at Shockwave, managing to stab the mech through the shoulder with it, and takes off down a side hall.  "Come on!"

Other-Jazz is hot on his heels.  "What the hell is that!"

"That's a whole new brand of crazy right there.  Keep running!"  There is no way in hell he's facing Shockwave without his Jazz.

((Hey, I did it!))

"Blaster found 'im!" Jazz shouts as he leaps to his feet, comming his team. "He's in Shockwave's new lair."

Optimus and Gunner are right behind him, and the commotion is bringing other mechs to investigate, Not-Prowl included.

"What on Earth is going on?!" Not-Prowl demands, matching pace with Jazz, who is systematically checking every weapon he has.

"Mah Prowler jus' showed up, an' he's not in a good area. Ah want ya ta stay here while we go an' retrieve 'im."

"Not a chance in hell. You're going to need real-time tactical support, and I'm the best there is." Not-Prowl drew his gun, and checked the chamber. "I'm going with you."

Jazz eyes him for a second then nods. "Fine. Don' get in mah way." The rest of the team falls in beside him as he reaches the entrance.

"Well, Shockwave's back. I can't say I'm surprised." Bee mutters as they head out.

"Really? I am. I'm pretty positive that Prowl killed him very dead last time we tangled with him." Mirage notes dryly. "I watched him cut Shockwave's head off. It was terrifying."

"Ya mean that was hot." Jazz cuts in with a grin, laughing outright as Mirage rolls his optics.

"Of course you'd think that's hot. You think he's hot when he breathes."

"'Cause he is. An' Ah'll be damn happy ta have 'im back. C'mon." Jazz breaks into a run, his daggers dropping into his palms as they near the base. Blue cuts off, and finds a perch, Hound with him as everyone else charges the base.

Not-Prowl keeps pace. "Do we have a plan for when we get inside?"

"Ah'm really hopin' we ain' gotta go inside an' that Prowler made it out. Ya don' wanna go in there - it's th' stuff 'o nightmares." Jazz speeds up, Mirage and Bee keeping pace behind him. Jazz looks back at them. "If we gotta go in there, ya'll stick together like ya'll been glued together, ya'll hear me?"

Other-Jazz is almost panting with the effort of keeping up with Prowl as he races through the twisting halls of the lab. There's traps they're setting off, but Prowl really isn't interested in keeping a low profile. He's interested in getting the hell out.

If he's right, his Jazz, his team is going to be meeting him just at the entrance. If he's right, he's going to petition for Blaster to be made a member of ops. Only Blaster could have found his spark signature in the entirety of Cybertron.

They pass a holding cell area. Other-Jazz almost falls behind. Prowl reaches out and grabs his wrist. "Now is not the time to sight-see."

"Wha' happened ta them?"

"Shockwave happened, that's what. Damn it all, how long as he been back?"

Other-Jazz glances at him. "Yer scared of him."

"Scared isn't the word. I killed his ass dead last time we met. I'm rather unnerved that he's still alive and kicking. You know, being headless kills most mechs." With a grunt, Prowl shoves open the last door. There's a large open room between him and the final exit. Prowl knows this is going to be the hardest room to cross. "You ready?"

"We runnin' or fightin'?"

"Possibly both. Depends on what nasty surprises Shockwave has in store for us."

Other-Jazz draws his gun. "Ah'm ready."

"Prowler!"

Prowl's helm snaps around. There, on the other side of the room, at the exit, is his Jazz. Bee, Mirage, and Hound are with him. There's another mech there that looks startlingly like himself. Prowl grins.

"You guys are a sight for sore optics!" he calls back. "You ready to cover us?"

Jazz grins. "We've got friends in high places, mech. Yer covered. We'll meet ya."

"No, stay there, we're just going to run for it." Prowl calls back with a grin. Before they even move, a sharp crack rings out, and there's a thud behind them. Not-Jazz turns and finds a half-dead mech with a neat hole in his helm.

"Friends in high places indeed." Prowl murmurs quietly with a grin. "You brought the calvary! I'm loved!"

"That ain' all Ah brought wit me. Get movin', more are comin'!" Jazz yells, beginning to move forward. Prowl yanks on Not-Jazz's wrist.

"C'mon! Let's get out of this hellhole." Prowl takes off, and traps start springing. Not-Jazz yelps quietly as he dodges an axe swinging down to take his head off.

"What the hell is goin' on here!"

"It's his first line of defense, the creature Blue shot down was next in line. We've run through most of his defenses backwards." Prowl says, jumping over a laser around ankle high, Not-Jazz hopping over it after him.

Jazz and the rest of his team have already moved to the door, and are standing just outside of it, watching for any surprises that might come up and block the entrance, but it seems like Prime and Gunner as well as the Twins are handling that nicely, if the laughter from Sunstreaker is anything to go by.

Other-Jazz frowns as he catches sight of Gunner, but he doesn't have time to question the odd mech. His gaze finds the other Prowl, and he grins. "Prowler!"

Other-Prowl visibly relaxes. "Jazz. Thank Primus."

"Thank Primus when we git outta here." Jazz says, reaching out. He grabs Prowl's wrist and pulls him the rest of the way out of the lair. Prow, in turn, drags Other-Jazz with him. "What the hell happened, Prowler?"

Prowl makes an exasperated hand motion. "Ask me later. Preferably when I've had lots of high-grade."

Optimus glances at the two pairs of mechs, but if he's disturbed by the sight of two Jazzs and two Prowls, he doesn't show it. He simply opens fire on something inside the lab. "If we're leaving, I suggest we do it now."

"Please tell me you brought explosives." Prowl says.

"Not enough ta take this place out." Jazz says ruefully. "We got wind of ya an' jus' left."

"We probably don't want to blow this place up just yet." Other-Prowl says calmly. There's no hint of emotion in his voice, and it makes Prowl's optic ridge arch in surprise. "I imagine he has the capability to send us back to where we belong in that lab."

"Holy hell, that's creepy." Prowl says.

As they make their way back to base, Bluestreak joins them and promptly latches onto Prowl. "You're back! I'm so glad you're back, now I can actually talk to you again, and Jazz can stop being so grouchy, and - "

Prowl holds up a hand with an amused grin, cutting Blue off. "You couldn't talk to him?" he asks, gesturing to where the other Prowl and Jazz are holding their own quiet conversation.

"No! He barely spoke two words to me! Apparently where he's from, we don't talk much, which kind of surprised me, and I'm apparently not ops? Weird." Blue says thoughtfully. Prowl looks back at Jazz, who's just listening to the conversation.

"And you got grouchy?"

"Ah ain' stopped bein' grouchy." Jazz mutters. "Ya'd be grouchy too if ya had ta deal wit that walkin' rule book."

"He can't be that bad."

"Ya did hear 'im talk, right? He's like that. All th' time. Always." Jazz sighs and pushes Prowl through the entrance of the base. "Ah'm so glad yer home, Ah ain' even got words for it."

"We need to make Blaster ops." Prowl says suddenly, looking over at Jazz, who's already starting to grin.

"Ah know. Ah'm workin' on th' transfer paperwork now. It jus' needs yer signature an' Prime's."

Blaster slides up behind them and grins. "Do I get a say in this?"

"No." Prowl and Jazz say together.

"Okay. I'm not complaining." Blaster laughs. "We're just making it official."

"Ain' ya supposed ta be on duty?" Jazz says playfully.

"I wanted to see the two Prowls." the comms mech retorts, shoving Jazz lightly with a laugh. "It's just as creepy as I thought it would be."

"Wait until you hear him talk." Prowl comments. "Mirage, Ratchet - I need a word with both of you."

"Ah don' care if ya don' like him." Other-Jazz snaps, cutting everyone off. "Ya ain' got th' right ta talk about him like that."

For a long moment, everyone just stares at the group. Prowl looks him up and down for a moment, then grins. Beside him, Jazz mutters "Ah'll flatten 'im."

"Not necessary." Prowl takes a step forward. "If you're smart, you will back down right now. I've already put your ass on the ground - don't make me embarrass you in front of your TO."

Jazz tilts his head as he studies his counterpart. The other mech's visor looks more like an accessory than anything, and his paintjob is too bright for what he's supposed to be. "'S like lookin' in a distorted mirror. Does yer visor actually do anythin'? An' what's with th' paintjob? D'ya like gettin' shot? 'Cause that's how ya get shot."

Not-Jazz blinks. "Mah visor has infared an' x-ray capabilities Ah use durin' missions. An' what's wrong wit' mah paintjob?!" he demands, looking down.

"'S too bright. Like, yer ops. Ya ain' supposed ta be th' most visible mech in th' room. Yer white's too white."

Not-Prowl pauses, and everyone can actually hear gears grinding. It sounds painful.  "How on Earth is he too white? He is white."

"Nah, mech. Ah'm white. He's WHITE. There's a difference."

From where he's perched on Hound's lap, Mirage grins. "Jazz is more of a cream color. The other guy is blindingly white. There is a difference. Plebeians."

"Imma stab ya. Ya won' see meh comin', an' ya won' know what hit ya till th' dagger's stickin' outta yer shoulder."

Prowl can't help it. He cracks up laughing. "And to think I missed you guys."

"Of course you did!" Hound calls. "We're fantastic that way!"

"I wanna know what their versions of us were like." Bluestreak says abruptly. "I mean, obviously all of us were there, 'cause they aren't surprised to see us."

"Surprised to see Gunner." Other-Prowl admits. "I don't know that name."

"We never dealt wit him." Other-Jazz points out. "He was supposed ta be head of ops, but Ah got th' position instead of him."

There's a full 30 seconds of silence before Gunner, Jazz, Mirage, and Optimus burst out laughing. The other two just stare at them. "What's so amusing?" Other-Prowl demands.

Which just makes them laugh harder.

Prowl smiles. "Ratchet, I need you, please." He nods, and the two of them head off to the medbay.

That abruptly sobers Jazz. "Oi - wait, Prowler!" He rushes after the two of them.

"Separation anxiety, Jazz?" Prowl teases.

"YES."

Optimus exchanges looks with Gunner. "Those two in positions of power. I think my alternate self is an idiot."

Prime raises an optical ridge when both mechs bristle. "What? You've met my Prowl and Jazz. Surely you can understand that I'd never give them the positions you two apparently hold."

Gunner snorts. "Not to mention, our Jazz has horrendous people skills. He was in charge of ops for about a month before I could transfer here from Magnus's unit, and he very readily gave the position back the moment I walked in. He doesn't want it. And neither does Prowl."

"Mah Prowler's SIC as well as Head TO. Yer Prowler's strictly ops, right?" Not-Jazz asks, looking around at the rest of the ops team. "'S so weird, seein' most of mah team here, but it ain' mah team. Who's Head TO?"

"Smokescreen." Mirage's tone is not complimentary, prompting Not-Jazz to give him a look.

"Ya'll don' get along?"

"No. He has an over-inflated ego that's too large for his build, he puts on more airs than I do, and to top it all off, his personality is like his face. Full of crap." Mirage says with a sniff.


Jazz wanders back in and cracks up. "Faker. Ya ain' played up th' noble act in a while. Takin' it fer a walk?"

"It needs exercise." Mirage says with a grin. "You never know."

Prowl walks in behind Jazz, followed by Ratchet. Hound's helm snaps around, optics widening. He takes a not-so-subtle breath through his nose. Prowl grins. "It works. Good."

"The hell did you do?"

"Spark dampener." He taps his chassis. "Shockwave used my spark signature to send me on that lovely field trip. I'd rather not get jerked away again if I can help it."

Other-Prowl blinks. "He did not intend to switch us."

"Negative, ghost rider. He meant to jerk me straight into his laboratory."

Jazz frowns. "Ghost rider?"

Prowl shakes his helm. "Don't ask. I overheard their Twins talking and thought it was funny."

Gunner holds up a hand to stop them. "Why did he lock on to you? It would have done just as much damage to go after Jazz, or any of the others."

Mirage holds up his hand like he's answering a question in class. "Take out the TO, you take out the team. Are you slipping, Gunner?"

Gunner throws a knife at him. Mirage knocks it out of the air easily. "I know, asshole. But we all know Shockwave didn't do this for the cause. This was personal, but all of you had a hand in hurting him last time."

"Prowl's the one who took off his head." Blue supplies.

"An' he don' use a battle computer." Jazz muses. "Ah'm sure Shockwave wanted ta study that."

Not-Prowl holds up a hand. "How long have you been operating without a battle computer?"

There's a few seconds of silence as Jazz and Prowl stare at each other. "Uh, for as long as we've been workin' together, so, seven or eight centuries?" Jazz ventures slowly. "'S been a long time."

"Longer than that. It was faulty, so I couldn't even boot it up without it crashing and taking me with it. So I got used to working without it." Prowl says with a shrug.

Jazz settles at one of the tables, and lets out a long sigh. "Man, Ah'm beat. Prowler, don' do that ta meh again."

"I didn't plan on it the first time." Prowler points out with a grin. "But I'm taking steps to make sure it's never happening again." The grin widens as Jazz's head drops to the table.

"Has he recharged at all since I left?" Prowl asks, looking over at Mirage.

"No - he's either been with Prime, Blaster, or Ratchet the whole time trying to figure out what happened and how to bring you back." Mirage says ruefully. "None of us could pin him down long enough to sedate him."

"Ah'm right here, an' not deaf, thank ya. Ah'm jus' blind."

Other-Jazz chuckles. "Yeah, Ah think that would work as well on him as it did on th' Prowl - wait, what? Yer blind?"

Jazz tilts his head enough to see the other from the corner of his visor. "Uh, yeah. Mah visor is for more than jus' fancy. It does important shit."

"And there goes his filter." Prowl says with no small amount of amusement.

"Shaddup."

Ratchet stops them. "Wait - time out. Who sedated Prowl?"

Other-Jazz shrugs. "Our ya did."

"Called it." Jazz says, voice muffled.

Ratchet just stares at him. "Did he die? Because that's how you die."

"Ratchet, stop imitating Jazz. That's weird, and things are weird enough." Optimus says. "Okay, this is what we're going to do. The two alternates are going to the med bay for the night. It's secure, and we don't have any other rooms for them. Team, go find someplace and bond - "

"No thanks, I'm already spoken for." Hound says primly.

"You don't want some of this?" Prowl taunts. "I'm hurt, Hound. Honestly."

"I wouldn't mind sharing." Mirage says with an appraising smirk.

"And now I'm scarred for life." Optimus muses. "Get out. You know what I mean."

Prime and the other mechs leave, and Prowl grins and nudges Jazz gently, earning himself a grunt from the other mech. "Still alive?"

"Yep. Jus' listenin'."

Mirage smiles. "It's been a long couple of days, hasn't it?"

"Ya'll tellin' meh. Ah'm wiped out." Jazz admits. He lifts his head and frowns a little as he looks around. "Where are Blue an' Bee?"

Hound laughs. "Blue went to let the twins know Prowl's back. I imagine he's thrilled to bits that he's back and can actually interact with him now. Bee went to get some recharge - apparently Cliffjumper's been a bit of an ass and took it out on him, so he's using the opportunity to get some rest while Cliffjumper's on patrol."

Jazz scowls. "We've gotta do somethin' about that mech, him an' Smokescreen both. They don' like ops. Fine, Ah get that. But that ain' give 'im th' right ta take it out on Bee."

Blue wanders in with the twins. "I can shoot him." he offers. "I don't know who we're shooting, but I can do it."

Prowl bursts out laughing with the rest of the team. "And that right there shows you've either been hanging out with us or the twins for way too long."

"I'm just surrounded by bad influences. Is it any wonder I'm picking up on your bad habits? Seriously, who're we shooting, and why?" Blue asks with a grin.

"Jumper." Jazz calls from his table. Blue's optics widen in understanding.

"Ooh. Is this about Jumper harassing Bee? He told me about that!" Blue pauses and looks over at Sunstreaker. "Didn't you say you and Sides have something planned for him?"

Sunstreaker's smile isn't nice, nor is Sideswipe's. "Yes."

Prowl merely chuckles. "We might not have to worry about it, then." He squeezes Jazz's shoulder. "I'll meet you in our quarters."

"Where ya goin'?"

"To have a word with my reflection." Prowl replies dryly. "If you want to come, just don't get involved. I have a feeling he's not going to like what I have to say." He starts to leave the rec room, but pauses next to Blue and gives him a hug. "It's good to see you."

Blue returns the hug with a relieved smile. "Likewise, Prowl."

Jazz watches the exchange and nods to himself. "Yer gonna dress yer reflection down on how he treats Blue."

"Well, more his Blue than mine, because mine, but yes."

Bluestreak laughs while Jazz just smiles. "Yeah, he ain' gonna take that well. Watch out - he's got a pretty good punch."

"Only if he lands it." Prowl flashes him a smile and leaves the rec room.

Jazz watches Prowl walk out before turning to Mirage. "Follow 'im just in case. Ah need ta get some recharge, or Ah'd do it mahself."

Mirage laughs. "He's going to know the minute I come up behind him. He always knows."

"Ah don' care." Jazz grins. "Tell 'im Ah sent ya. That'll make 'im laugh, Ah'm sure of it." He claps Mirage on the shoulder. "Thanks, mech."

"No sweat. Get some sleep. You look like shit."

"Ya ain' one ta talk, mech. Yer paint's lookin' a little dull there. Maybe borrow some wax from Sunstreaker." Jazz heads down the hall towards his quarters, keys open the door, and promptly collapses onto the berth, out before his head hits the pillow.

Blaster walks in sometime later, and the mech doesn't even twitch.

Prowl walks into the med bay. Other-Jazz is already in recharge, but it's not a deep one. Other-Prowl is still awake and staring at a data pad. His helm comes up as the door slides shut behind Prowl.

But not before Mirage slips in behind him, cloaked from view. Prowl almost laughs at that. Let's see how well this Prowl can sense the invisible mech.

Other-Prowl blinks. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to give you a piece of advice."

A small scowl slips past his controls. "I do not need advice from you."

"And yet, you're getting it." Prowl leans against the wall, a small, sardonic smirk on his face. "Loosen up around Bluestreak."

"He does not need me - he has you again."

"Not mine. He's mine. But you have yours, and if his reaction is anything to go by when I started talking to him, he really wants the same rapport with you. So unclench and give it to him."

Other-Prowl glares at him. "I am not you. I am a professional."

"And the others like to call you sparkless." Prowl cuts him off. "You think I haven't gotten the same shit said about me? Probably for different reasons. What I'm trying to say is that it doesn't matter. You can still be professional. Just give Blue something."

Mirage began recording the minute the two began to talk, and very quickly pinged Hound. "Man, Prowl is letting the other guy have it. Apparently, the other Bluestreak is friendly enough, but the other Prowl won't give him the time of day."

"Yeah, well, we've already established he's not our Prowl, but even so, poor Bluestreak."

"Yeah. It makes me wonder if Praxus was destroyed in their universe, or if it's just ours. It'd be nice if Prowl, Blue and Smokescreen weren't the only Praxians left."

"It'd be nice, but be realistic, Raj. Odds are, if Cybertron was destroyed in their universe, so was Praxus."

"A mech can dream." Raised voices gets Mirage's attention. "I gotta go and hopefully not get involved with this. The other Prowl is taking offense to the fact our Prowl is chewing him out. I can't tell if it's gonna get physical. I hope not. I don't want to contend with both Other Prowl and Other Jazz."

"Be careful." Hound cuts the link, and Mirage slides closer to Prowl as the other Prowl advances on him.

"Do not presume to tell me how to interact with my army. It's quite frankly none of your business." Other Prowl's voice is ice.

Prowl shakes his helm. "I'm not talking about your army, twit. Your SIC, of course you don't want to lose face in front of all of them. But Blue is different."

"How?" Other-Prowl challenges.

Prowl hesitates, then decides to just tell the story. It's no secret. "When Praxus was destroyed, Blue was the only survivor. I'm the one who dug him out. It was my team that saved his life. That makes him different - that makes him ours. Do you get that?"

Other-Prowl merely stares at him. "I was the same. I was the one who found Bluestreak. But that changes nothing. He's still an Autobot, and I treat him the same I would treat every other Autobot under my command. You would expect me to show preferential treatment just because I was there?"

Prowl hisses, his anger starting to get the better of him. "No. I expect you to act like you have a spark and treat him like the friend he clearly wants to be. At least try, mech!"

That calm facade breaks, and Other-Prowl snarls as he throws a punch at Prowl.

Mirage moves like lightning, putting himself between Prowl and the furious mech in front of him, catching the fist swinging towards the side of Prowl's helm. He shimmers back into view, and the only indication he'd surprised the other mech was the widening of his optics.

"That was a poor move." Mirage's voice is quiet. "You're lucky I'm here. Had that blow connected, Prowl would have put you through the wall." His gaze flicks to the side. "Stay on that berth, mech."

"Let go of Prowler, an' Ah might stay put." Not-Jazz says, sliding off the berth. "Seems we got a problem, huh?"

Mirage lets go of Not-Prowl's fist, and steps back beside Prowl, eyeing both mechs carefully. Not-Prowl is still fuming, but Not-Jazz is somewhat unconcerned with the temper tantrum his partner is throwing. Not-Jazz nods in Mirage's direction, and turns his attention to Prowl.

"C'n Ah ask what prompted ya ta come an' start a fight?"

"I had no intention of starting a fight, though I suspected one might happen. I wanted to know why your partner doesn't interact with your Bluestreak more, even when Bluestreak clearly wants to."

Other-Jazz snorts. "Ah don' think Ah believe ya. Ya know th' kind of mech mah Prowler is."

Prowl merely arches an optic ridge. "Yes. And Bluestreak is a youngling. He has no way of speaking for himself, and no one to speak for him. So I will. And now I've said my piece." He turns and motions for Mirage to follow him.

Other-Jazz calls after him. "Leave Prowler alone. He don' need any shit from ya."

Prowl glances over his shoulder and smirks. "Oh, don't even. We'll be stuck with you two for quite a while. I'm gonna keep giving him shit - and I'll be giving you shit too. Along with Jazz and the rest of the team. Get used to it."

"Both of you are sparkless." Other-Prowl snaps.

"You might be right." Prowl says blandly. "I've been called that before." With that, he and Mirage leave the med bay.

A few hours later, Jazz staggers into the rec room where the rest of the team is. Bluestreak is all but glued to Prowl's side, and Mirage is sitting in such a way that he can keep tabs on him without making it obvious. Jazz plops down next to Prowl, and promptly puts his head on the table.

"What on Cybertron are you doing up?" Prowl demands. "You shouldn't be up for another few hours, Jazz."

"Ah wanted ta check on mah team. Call it a nervous habit." Jazz doesn't even lift his head. His leg is pressed against Prowl's - he'll know if the mech moves.

"I'll call it paranoia instead." Prowl says with a grin. Jazz turns his head and shoots him a look.

"Justified paranoia now. Ah'm gonna be even worse now." At Prowl's grin, Jazz grins back before bracing his chin on the table to observe the rest of his team. Now that Prowl is back, he can actually see the tension bleeding out of everyone's frames, his included, if he's honest.

Smokescreen sighs as he passes the team. "It was nice talking to the other Prowl - he's actually sane."

"Yer definition of sane needs some work." Jazz mutters, making Mirage laugh, and Prowl grin