Sabotage: Alternates

Jazz walks into the tac room, watching as Prowl examines a datapad. He grins. "Whatcha up to, mech?"

Prowl smiles at him. "Plotting."

"Anythin' good?"

"That depends on your definition of good." Prowl motions him forward. "The Decepticons have a new base."

Jazz stands by his side and examines the schematics. "An' what're we gonna do about it?"

"I thought setting it on fire was a grand plan."

"Ah like this plan. Are we gonna make it a party an' invite th' rest of th' team, or is it gonna be a date?" Jazz shoots Prowl a charming grin, who smacks him with a data pad.

"It's a party - you know Raj, Blue, and Bee would never forgive you if you set a base on fire without them." Prowl laughs as Jazz grins.

"True, true. When're we headin' out?"

"Once I tell Prime and Gunner about the base and what we're going to do to it." Prowl says with a grin ."This is something they need to know."

"Is this where Ah point out that ya ain't askin' their opinion on what we should do? 'Cause Ah feel like a good upstandin' Autobot should point that out." The haughty expression Jazz adopts doesn't last long at the look Prowl shoots him. "Lucky fer ya - Ah ain' that mech."

"You sounded suspiciously like Smokescreen for a moment."

"Ya take that back!"

"In any case," Prowl comments, ignoring Jazz's mock-petulance for the moment, "I find I get much farther in life if I skip the whole permission bit and go straight to the forgiveness."

"Meanin' yer gonna basically walk in there, go 'hey, we're burnin' this base down, bye', and leave."

"Exactly."

"Ah'm lookin' forward ta this." Jazz cackles. "Lead th' way, Prowler."

With a faintly indulgent grin, Prowl gathers up the datapad, and heads out the door, Jazz trailing along behind him like a puppy. They reach Prime's door, and Prowl looks back. "Wait here a second."

"Okay?"

"We'll be leaving shortly. So comm the team and let them know to be ready to go." Prowl's mouth twitches.

"Gotcha."

Prowl heads inside, and smiles when Prime and Gunner look up. "We have some intel on a new Decepticon base being built on the other side of Iacon. My team and I are going to take it down before it can get set up."

"Define take it down." Prime says, raising an optical ridge. Gunner begins to snicker, making Prime look over, then sigh. "Forget I asked. I know how you're going to take it down."

Prowl merely attempts to look innocent, which has Gunner cracking up. Prime shakes his head. "Don't try that. It didn't work when you were a sparkling, it sure isn't going to work now when you plan to level a new Decepticon base with high-level explosives and more gunfire than is necessary."

"Hey!" Prowl protests with a grin. "Gunfire and high explosives are always necessary."

Optimus rolls his optics, but he's smiling beneath his battle mask. "Go make something blow up. You guys have been getting too high-strung lately."

"Sad that you now accept that explosions are the best cure for cabin fever." Prowl muses. "Okay. We'll give you the full mission report when we get back."

"This is hardly an official mission!" Optimus calls at him as he leaves. "If the Council asks, I have no clue!"

"Isn't that standard operating procedure for us?"

"Shut up and get out of here!" Prime yells with a laugh.

/--/

Jazz waits with the rest of the team in the rec room for Prowl to arrive. Bluestreak is checking his rifle, as Mirage, Bee and Jazz go over the map, pinpointing where everyone will be, and coordinating a safe spot for the checkpoint. "Ah think right here will be good. Blue c'n see it from his perch, an' still be able ta keep an optic on all of us."

Bluestreak chambers a round with a loud click, making pretty much everyone in the room look over at him. He gives them a bright smile. "Just checking my gun!"

Bee leans over to Jazz. "Now, who wants to volunteer to stand in front of it and see if it works?" he murmurs.

Jazz grins. "Be nice, Bee."

"Couldn't you do that somewhere else?" Smokescreen says from across the room. He's sitting with Cliffjumper, who nods in agreement.

As Prowl walks in, Blue's gun goes off, putting a hole in the wall between the points of Smokescreen's chevron.

"Oops, my finger slipped on the trigger." Bluestreak's voice is entirely too innocent, setting the ops mechs to laughing hysterically.

"Blue." Prowl laughs.

Blue blinks at him in a picture of innocence. "Yes, Prowl?"

"That's a damn good shot."

Smokescreen splutters while the ops mechs just laugh harder. Blue beams at Prowl. "Thanks!"

Jazz grins. "We got clearance?"

"Yep. Let's go set fire to something." With that Prowl leads the group out of the base.

Smokescreen shakes his helm as they go. "Crazy fraggers, the lot of them."

"You said it." Cliffjumper mutters.

((Hey! You posted!))

As they head towards the base that they're about to blow up, Blue and Hound break off from the group and move to higher ground. As Blue gets settled, he activates his comm, and watches the rest of the team's progress while Hound finishes securing the team's checkpoint.

"I'm in position. The fork in the road is just ahead." Blue says, sighting down his rifle.

Prowl nods. "Mirage, Bumblebee, you two take the left. Jazz and I will take the right."

"You got it." Bee jerks his head, and he and Mirage shimmer out of sight as Mirage activates his cloak. Jazz watches them go with a grin. "Ah gotta get meh one of those."

"No, you don't. You don't need any help being intimidating." Prowl says, turning right, grinning as Jazz falls into step beside him.

"Ah guess. Way ta take th' wind outta mah sails, though." Jazz says with a grin, bumping Prowl's shoulder with his.

Prowl nods, then pauses, looking around. That makes Jazz stop, dagger sliding into his palm. "Prowler?" he asks, voice gone soft.

"Something's not right." Prowl says quietly. "I'm not picking anything up with my doorwings, but something feels wrong."

"D'we need ta abort?"

"No. We've come this far. It'd be a shame to waste the explosives." Prowl says with a wry grin.

"All right. If we need ta cut 'n run, lemme know." With that, Jazz leans down to set and arm the bombs. "This'll be a fun report ta write ta Prime."

Prowl nods absently, scanning the base around Jazz. There's still that odd feeling, like something is about to go insanely wrong, but he can't quite put his finger on it. He keeps his sword out just in case.

Suddenly he feels it. A tug, just behind his spark. It's enough to make him gasp. "Jazz - "

He reaches out to catch Jazz's shoulder, and suddenly everything is different.

He's not on the Decepticon base anymore. Or at least, not the same one he was two seconds ago. In fact, he's not certain he's even on Cybertron anymore - the gravity is different. Not much, but enough to catch his attention. He turns a slow circle, trying to figure out what just happened.

"Prowler?"

Prowl almost breathes a sigh of relief - at least Jazz is still with him - but then he catches sight of the mech. It's not Jazz. It looks like him, but the paintjob is wrong - too bright. The visor looks more like it's for fashion than function. Most importantly, this mech is holding a gun and no bombs.

What the hell?

Jazz turns at the call of his name, then pauses. The mech standing behind him looks like Prowl, but something's off about him. "Prowler?"

The mech focuses on him, and blinks in confusion. "Jazz. What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the checkpoint?" The mech's voice trails off as he looks around. "Where are we?"

"Mech, Ah don' know who the frag ya think ya are, but who th' pit are ya?" Jazz holds his dagger against the other mech's throat, and backs him into a wall.

The mech looks at him like he's crazy. "My name is Prowl."

"Bullshit." A red dot appears on the new mech's doorwing. "Ya ain't Prowler. He don' carry a gun."

The new Prowl sighs in exasperation. "How else am I to prove who I am?"

"Tell meh where mah Prowler went."

"If I am here, then I'd have to hazard a guess that he is with my Jazz."

The other Jazz takes a step towards him. "Prowler, what's wrong? Why ain' ya at th' checkpoint?"

Prowl automatically takes a step back. "Who the hell are you?"

Something like hurt flashes through the other mech's expression. "'m Jazz. Ya know meh."

"No. You're not Jazz." Other-Jazz takes another step forward, only to find himself stopped by Prowl's sword at his throat. "Don't even. I won't hesitate to take your head off."

Other-Jazz freezes. "What c'n Ah tell ya ta calm ya down?" He keep his voice gentle, and that just pisses Prowl off even more.

"Where is my team?"

"Yer team?"

"Yes, my team. Jazz, Mirage, Bee, Hound, Bluestreak. Where is my team?"

Prowl's almost shouting now, doorwings raised in clear threat, and it has Other-Jazz backing down despite himself. "Th' others are back at the Ark, mech. If ya come wit meh, we c'n sort this out. But here ain' th' best place ta have this conversation."

((I feel like G1-Prowl is handling this much better than Sabotage-Prowl is. *laughs*))

Jazz's processor screeches to a halt. "An' where is yer Jazz?" he demands. "Ah have ta get 'im back."

"He is on Earth. With the rest of my team." Not-Prowl says, not moving an inch. Those too bright optics focus on Jazz. "If I am here, then I only assume that he is where I was. And I hope that he reacts better than you are. As third in command, you should be in better control of yourself."

That makes Jazz freeze. "Excuse meh? Third in command?! Meh? Oh, no. Ah don' think so, mech. Ya try suggestin' that ta anyone who knows meh, an' they'll laugh ya outta th' base." A distant explosion has his head turning briefly. "We gotta go - but this conversation ain't done."

"Who set off the explosives?"

"That'd be Raj an' Bee." Jazz finishes arming the bomb and tugs Not-Prowl after him. "An' mine's set ta blow, so lets get outta here 'fore it does!"

Not-Prowl gets a good look at his surroundings as they run. He stops short, yanking Jazz to a stop with him. "Is this Icaon?"

"Yes?"

There's a moment of silence and Jazz can actually hear a pop, then a fizzle, then Not-Prowl's optics go blank and he crashes to the ground. Jazz stares non-plussed at him for a moment, then nudges him with a pede. "Uh, Prowl?"

"The Ark?" Prowl shakes his helm, cutting off any explanation Other-Jazz could provide. "No, never mind. Lead the way." He motions with his sword. Other-Jazz merely nods and heads out of the base. Sneaking with Jazz actually feels normal, and for a moment Prowl can forget just how damn weird this entire scenario is.

Then they get outside, and it just gets even weirder.

"This is not Cybertron."

Other-Jazz comes to a halt. "No. We haven't been on Cybertron in a really long time, Prowler."

Prowl makes a non-comittal noise. "So where are we?"

"It's called Earth. It's an organic planet."

That makes Prowl snort. "No shit. Okay, so let's get to the Ark." He finally folds up his sword and puts it away. It doesn't escape his notice that Other-Jazz relaxes at that. It also doesn't escape his notice that he's probably in contact with someone on the Ark. Which actually succeeds in making Prowl even more paranoid. But they continue the trip with minimal disruptions.

Mirage and Bee round the corner running full-pelt, and skid to a stop a little ways away from Jazz and the now unconscious Not-Prowl. Bee blinks, taking the scene in.

"Uh, boss? What'd you do to Prowl?"

Jazz doesn't look up from where he's somewhat forlornly prodding the unconscious mech. "This ain' Prowler, an' Ah honestly have no idea what's goin' on anymore." even his tone is somewhat forlorn. "Things stopped makin' sense about five minutes ago."

"What the heck do you mean that's not Prowl?" Bee asks, moving closer to the mech on the ground. "It looks like - oh. Nope. Wrong mech. He's missing the scar on his helm, and what are those designs on his wings? Stars?"

Jazz shrugs. "Beats meh. Ah turned mah back ta arm th' bomb, Prowler called mah name, an' when Ah turn around, this mech was standin' right where our Prowler was." he leans down to pull the mech over his shoulder.

Mirage helps heft Not-Prowl onto Jazz's shoulder. "So what do we do?"

"Take 'im back ta base, Ah guess." Jazz looks up at Blue's perch and waves. "Mah question is, how's Blue gonna react? He 'n Prowler are pretty close, an' Ah don' know how this mech'll react ta him."

Turns out, the Ark is a giant ship. With really minimal security. Optimus and Ratchet are waiting for them just outside when they arrive. Prowl would relax at that, except these mechs have that same otherness to them that Other-Jazz does. Optimus approaches them.

"You said you have a problem?"

"Somethin' wrong wit Prowl." Jazz motions him forward. "Ah don' think it's him."

Ratchet makes a scoffing sound, but he starts a medical scan anyway. Prowl tunes out the others and keeps a sharp optic on the medic. At Ratchet's look, he merely smiles. "I'm not a very trusting soul."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know." Ratchet mutters. Suddenly, he catches sight of the scar. "May I?" Prowl obligingly tilts his helm.

Jazz and Optimus are still debating the issue when Ratchet speaks up. "Guys - this isn't our Prowl."

Optimus blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Check out the scar. That's damage done a good thousand years ago, not recently. More importantly, he doesn't have a battle computer."

That almost stalls out the other two. "Say what?" Jazz demands.

Prowl smiles. "No. Computer. No programming for one, either. Not anymore, at any rate. I know, shocking."

"The use of sarcasm is another good clue." Ratchet says a touch dryly.

Blue meets up with them at the checkpoint as Jazz sets Not-Prowl down. He leans down to get a look at the out cold mech. "So wanna explain why you had him at knife point?"

Jazz sighs and slides down a handy outcropping to sit. "Take a closer look, mech. That ain't our Prowler."

"Oh. What happened to ours?"

"Ah was hopin' ya'd be able ta tell meh - mah back was ta 'im when he disappeared. Ah was hopin' ya had an optic on us."

Blue shakes his head. "No - I was keeping an optic on Bee and Mirage. They ran into a few hostiles, so I needed to make sure they didn't need cover." his tone is rueful.

There's a groan from the other Prowl, and his optics flicker back online. Blue brightens, and hurries over to help the other mech up. "Are you okay?"

Not-Prowl blinks at Bluestreak in surprise. "Bluestreak? What are you doing here? I was under the impression that this was an ops mission."

Blue pauses, and his gaze flicks over to Jazz uncertainly. Jazz shrugs, and Blue turns back to Prowl. "Um, I am ops?"

"Since when?" Not-Prowl demands, staggering to his feet and yanking himself free of Blue's grip. Blue lets him go, looking a little hurt.

"Since your team joined Prime's here in Iacon." Bluestreak's voice is small. "It was you and Jazz who went to Prime and had me join."

Mirage slides between Bluestreak and Not-Prowl, and glares at him. "I don't know how things are done where you're from, but if you don't back off of Blue, we're going to have a very serious problem. Our Prowl is like a brother to Bluestreak. Back off."

(Would it be a bit easier if I took over G1-Prowl sort of? Or would that just confuse the shit out of things?)

Optimus starts to say something, but Prowl cuts him off. "I think we can safely say I'm not your Prowl. I do have a few questions for you." Prime nods. "Where the hell is the team?"

Jazz blinks. "Team? Ya mean the others in ops? It ain' their mission."

Prowl considers that. "You went in solo?"

"Yeah. Ain' that uncommon."

Prowl shakes his head. "So where's Gunner? He'd have your ass for running solo ops like that."

Optimus and Jazz exchange looks. "Who is Gunner?" Optimus asks gently.

"He was th' other one that was in line for head of ops." Jazz comments. "Ah beat him out fer it."

Prowl blinks a couple of times. "You? Head of ops." Jazz nods. Prowl can't help himself. He busts out laughing. "Yeah. This has got to be an alternate universe or something. There is no damn way my Jazz is head of anything."

Ratchet just shakes his helm. "You can't introduce him to the base. I think he'll break them."

"Judging from them, that won't be hard." Prowl grins. "So where is Blue?"

"Ya know things are messed up when Blue lets us fight his battles for 'im." Jazz says dryly from where he's still sitting, watching Not-Prowl.

Blue leaned over and stuck his tongue out at Jazz before focusing on Not-Prowl. "I'm not a member of ops where you're from?"

"No. You fall squarely under Ironhide's command." Not-Prowl smiles slightly at the surprise written on Blue's face. "One thing that hasn't changed however, is that you're still very readable."

"We're workin' on that." Jazz calls as he stands up. "It's a work in progress." he walks over, and lays a hand on Blue's shoulder. "C'mon - we don' wanna hang around here longer'n we have ta. We did jus' blow up a 'Con stronghold." He glances back at Not-Prowl. "Ya gonna be okay on th' trip back, or am Ah gonna hafta carry ya? Again."

Not-Prowl's optics look around, and pale dangerously, but he stays standing. "I should be fine. I will probably have a meltdown later, I'm sure, but I'm certain I can make it back to your base provided it isn't far."

"About five minutes or so at speed." Mirage murmurs in Jazz's audio. "Think he'll make it, boss?"

"There's really no tellin', Raj. Ah don' know." Jazz murmurs back, with a small shrug. "Things stopped makin' sense a while back. It's not often Ah regret a mission, but Ah regret this one."

The Other-Optimus blinks. "Bluestreak? Why do you want to talk to him?"

Prowl arches an optic ridge. "He's ops? And my friend? And I'm curious to know how he's doing here, even if it's not really him?"

Other-Jazz exchanges looks with Optimus. "Blue ain' ops, mech. He's Ironhide's mech. Sniper. Damn good at it, too."

Prowl stops cold. "Wait, what? You know what - never mind. I have a headache already. How about we figure out how to get me back where I belong and your Prowl back here?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." Ratchet comments. "Although I have to say - I really like this version of you. Our you is a walking rulebook."

Other-Jazz scowls at him, but otherwise doesn't say anything. "Ah agree wit th' mech. Problem is, what are we gonna do? We're down our SIC."

Before Other-Optimus can say anything, Prowl busts out laughing. "Me? SIC? Are you mechs insane?"

All three mechs exchange looks. "You're not second?" Optimus asks.

"Hell no! They don't let mechs like me into positions of power!" Prowl can't stop laughing. The mental image is just too funny, and the stress of the situation is getting to him. "Damn, mechs. You're all crazy."

At that point, Ratchet comes up behind him and hits him with a sedative. Prowl falls into stasis almost immediately. The medic shrugs. "Now let's get him inside, and hopefully when he wakes up, he'll be marginally more calm."

The group begins the walk back to Iacon, with Not-Prowl in the middle just in case he stops to sight-see, and then lock up. Jazz keeps glancing over his shoulder at the other mech, dagger very much in hand.

Just in case.

Bee had called ahead for Ratchet to meet them at the entrance to the base, and when they arrive, Ratchet strides out to meet them.

"You crazy fraggers can't stay out of trouble for more then two hours, can you?" Ratchet demands, stopping a short distance away and crossing his arms.

Jazz shrugs. "Tha'd be borin', an' this time, it ain't our fault. We didn't even cause it. We've got a tag-along."

"I see that. Prowl have a twin he didn't bother to tell us about?" Ratchet moves forward towards Not-Prowl, who brightens a little.

"Ratchet."

"Well, he knows me, so that's good." Ratchet moves closer. "I'm gonna run a few scans. Don't mind me."

"You're nicer than my Ratchet. That's disconcerting." Not-Prowl notes, watching Ratchet work.

Ratchet whacks him with a handy rock. "Don't get any ideas, stranger. Got a name?"

"Ow! I keep telling you all - my name is Prowl." There's a tinge of exasperation in the mech's tone.

"Bad news, boys. This isn't our Prowl." Ratch calls.

"Yeah, no shit. We figured that out about two hours ago." Jazz mutters sourly. He yelps as the rock Ratchet hit Not-Prowl with collides with his head. "What was that for?!"

"Being a smart-ass."

"Ah've got some bad news for ya, mech."

When Prowl wakes up, he's aware of three things immediately - he's not actually supposed to be awake yet (thank Primus for those special programs Jazz had him install), he's in a medbay, and he's definitely not back where he belongs.  

Ratchet leans over the prone mech.  "Why are your - "

Prowl pops him across the face, dagger in hand.  Ratchet jerks back just enough to avoid the worst of the dagger, but Prowl's blow still manages to open up a thin line across his faceplates.  

"What the hell, mech!"

"Don't you know it's stupid to sedate an ops mech?" Prowl asks dryly.  "We tend to not react well when we don't wake up where we should."  He slides off the berth and starts pacing the room, optics flickering between Other-Ratchet and the walls and ceiling.  "Where's your Prime?"

"Trying to figure out what to do with you." Ratchet says bluntly.  "Quite frankly, we're stumped.  This has never happened to us before."

"Well, join the club." Prowl sighs.  "Seriously - how has Red Alert not blown a fuse?  This place has absolutely no security at all."

Before Ratchet can answer that, the door to the medbay opens and Bluestreak walks in.  "Hey, Ratchet - the Twins are at it again and - oh, hey, Prowl.  Are you okay?  Jazz brought you straight here after the mission."

And Other-Ratchet is treated to the sight of Prowl actually brightening.  "Hey, Blue.  I'm fine.  Certain mechs overreact."

Bluestreak freezes.  "You - you never call me Blue.  Why are you calling me that now?"

Ratchet merely sighs as he leads the ops team into the base. "Well, until we know what caused this, I'm afraid you all aren't going to be able to run any missions until further notice. We don't need this happening to any more of you."

Jazz and Mirage share an outraged look, while Bee, Bluestreak and Hound sigh. Jazz glares at Ratchet. "We are capable of runnin' missions without Prowler. We don' like ta, but we've done it before."

Ratchet meets his gaze squarely. "Are you in any condition to be running ops right now?" Before Jazz can answer, Ratchet overrides him. "No, you're not. You're shaken, and right now, for all we know, you have an even bigger target on your back. So as CMO, I'm pulling rank and recommending that the ops team not be sent out for any missions that are not absolutely necessary. Got it?"

Not-Prowl carefully raises a hand. "I am the Chief Tactical officer for my army, surely I'd be able to plan their missions." he says slowly. "If I am to be quarantined, I'd like something to do."

Jazz shakes his head. "No offense, mech, but yer not cut out ta plan th' missions we take."

Not-Prowl actually bristles. "For someone who said no offense, you actually came quite close to offending me." he says sharply.

Jazz's optical ridges raise. "So ya do have somethin' resemblin' a personality. Ah was beginnin' ta wonder."

Not-Prowl scowls. "I prefer to remain professional. Is that a crime?"

"Nah, but it's borin'. Ah'll let Ratch get ya settled in. Once ya are, Ah'll bring ya a few of th' reports we've made on some of our missions. Let ya see for yerself what yer signin' up for." Jazz turns down an adjacent hall, heading straight for the rec room. He scans it briefly and finds Blaster.

"Mech, Ah gotta request fer ya."

"Shoot."

"How long ya gonna be on comms?"

"For the foreseeable future because Smokescreen is an ass. Why?"

"Ah need ya ta scan for Prowler's spark signature. If it shows up, ya tell meh."

Other-Jazz walks back into the med bay to see a rather shocking sight - Ratchet has a new cut running across his face, Bluestreak has parked himself next to Prowl, and the two Praxians are pouring over a series of datapads. Jazz gives Ratchet a look, who merely shrugs.

"He was curious."

Other-Jazz huffs a sigh and approaches the Praxians. "Whatcha lookin' at?"

"Some of your mission reports." Other-Blue says cheerfully. "He's pretty smart. I think he's smarter than our Prowl!"

Prowl glances up to see Other-Jazz actually bristle at that. "Smarter than Prowler? Ah doubt that."

Other-Blue shrugs. "Well, he doesn't use a battle computer. That's gotta mean something, right?"

Other-Jazz merely ignores him. "So, what ya think of our missions?"

Prowl smirks. "I think your TO doesn't have much faith in you."

"What makes ya say that?"

"80%? Seriously? You've never had a mission that has less than a 80% chance of success." Prowl returns his attention to the datapad. "That's a damned walk in the park to us."

"Prowler never sends us out on a mission if it ain' safe." Other-Jazz says softly. "What's yer worst odds?"

"10."

Other-Blue turns his attention fully to Prowl. "Really? The mission was that bad?"

Prowl snorts. "Went about as well as you'd expect, too."

Jazz sighs and gets to his feet. "Well, Ah gotta go an' get a few reports for the Not-Prowl, an' then sit-rep wit Prime."

"Not-Prowl?" Blaster raises an optical ridge. "What the heck is that?"

"A long story, an' Ah don' have th' time an' highgrade ta tell it yet. Meet ya back at quarters after yer shift, an' Ah'll explain." Jazz says with a wry grin.

"Deal. I'll get that scan started. Good luck, Jazz."

"Thanks, mech. Imma need it." Jazz claps Blaster on the shoulder before leaving the rec room to head to Prowl's office. He keys in the code and heads straight for the desk, unlocking the bottom drawer and pulling out a couple of the more professional sounding reports. He locks the drawer back up and leaves the office, locking that back up as well before heading to medbay.

Ratchet looks up as he enters. "Hey, I thought you went to sit-rep."

"Ah'm headed that way now. Ah came ta drop these off wit our new friend. Ya wanna plan for ops? This is how we work, an' what odds we usually work with. If ya c'n plan around those, then maybe we'll run an op, see how ya do. But Ah somewhat rather doubt it." Jazz hands the reports to Not-Prowl.

Not-Prowl scans them, then glares at Jazz. "I am going to point out that I am not any happier to be in this predicament as you are. As much as I hate to say it, you're stuck with me until I can go home. So an attempt at civility would be nice."

"Ah'm not a nice mech, an' Ah don' do civility. Ya want meh ta back off ya? Ya gotta show ya got th' ball bearings ta be around meh witout gettin' offended every time Ah open mah mouth. This ops team operates on respect, an' right now? We ain't got any ta spare."

Not-Prowl's optics darken slightly. "You are very different from the Jazz I know. He is kinder than you are."

"Good fer him." Jazz's tone is dry.

(This did not go in the direction I wanted! I like it though, so Imma post it!)

Other-Jazz stares at Prowl for a moment. "Do ya take anythin' seriously?" he demands.

Prowl merely leans back a little and smiles at him. "I take serious things seriously."

"Th' safety of yer team ain' serious enough fer ya?"

Prowl freezes. Other-Bluestreak wisely stands up and retreats to stand beside Ratchet. Slowly, Prowl stands up and takes a step forward. There's just enough height difference that he can manage to loom rather nicely. Other-Jazz merely glares right back at him.

"Ya tryin' ta intimidate meh?"

"No. I was debating proving a point, but I think I'll let it slide. This time."

Other-Jazz snorts. "This time? Mech, Ah don' think ya got th' struts fer a fight."

Other-Ratchet sighs. "Jazz - "

Prowl swiftly reaches out, grabs Other-Jazz by the throat, flips him over his shoulder and slams his back into the floor. Other-Jazz grunts as the air is forced from his intakes. For a minute, the two simply stare at each other, Prowl's hand still on his throat.

From across the medbay, Other-Blue blinks. "Wow. I didn't think anyone could get the drop on Jazz."

"Neither did Ah." Jazz grunts, finally finding his breath. "Ya gonna punch meh fer bein' an ass, or ya gonna let meh up?"

"I'm still debating that."

"Debate faster. This is uncomfortable."