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Jazz strutted out of his favorite paint shop with reinvigorated excitement and confidence. His new “outfit” for his job at the strip club was perhaps the best one he’d had yet; firefighter red had been cool, but clashed with his visor, no one found chefs sexy anymore, the whole turbofox thing had been weird (not that he shied away from the strange and kinky!), and everything else was just sort of. Yeah. A theme. He was hot as slag in all of it, but nothing quite resonated with him like an enforcer getup.
Jazz was naturally black and white, so it took little alteration to make him look like the sluttiest enforcer Cybertron’s ever seen. His red and blue accents were minimized, and fake decals were added along with the glyphs “seduce and serve” on the door panels of his alt mode. It looked good . Maybe it was Jazz’s affinity for enforcer types in general, but he was so excited to work he took the long way home; there were still several joors until the sun would set and the club would open.
On the way back to his apartment, he took another detour on a whim to another shop and had a lightbar installed on his roof. He wouldn’t do the sirens too, no, those things were annoying as Pit, but he knew as well as all the other freaks that got off to enforcers that the lightbar was a point of interest. A little teasing flash while he’s up on the stage… oh yeah, this was going to be a great orn for work. He could smell the shanix (and lubricants) rolling in already.
Jazz was feeling so great about his new look, he decided to take the extra extra long way home. Only foresight could have spared him.
One enforcer sped past him, lights and sirens on, followed by a second, then a third, and then Jazz was practically boxed in by all of the enforcers rushing off to wherever they were rushing off to. Stuff like this didn't happen often, but when it did, Jazz typically tried his best to move over and follow the rest of the traffic, just in case. This did not work.
"Is your radio off?! Come on!" shouted an enforcer, nudging Jazz's bumper to follow the rest of the herd. Instantly, he knew he had fragged up by taking the extra extra long way home. On the other servo... what else did he really have going on before his shift? Plus, it was kind of funny; it seemed that none of the other enforcers noticed that a) he was a little speedster, not a pursuit or armored vehicle, b) his door panels said seduce and serve instead of protect and serve, and c) the decal wasn't even close to the city's official decal. It must have been something really big, if they were that desperate for backup. That intrigued Jazz more than anything, and it had been a good couple of cycles since he'd gotten into some mischief.
Pretending to be an enforcer it is.
Thanks to the loud cacophony of so many sirens blaring at once, Jazz didn't worry too much about fitting in. Well, clearly he was already doing great, if he was simply meshing in with all these enforcers like he was supposed to be there. He just switched on the lightbar and kept his mischievous chuckling under his breath. Best get it out before he had to be in root and had to school his facial expressions.
Pretty soon, all of the enforcers converged in front of the biggest bank in the city. There was a whole row of armored vehicles parked in an arc around the front, various other enforcers crouched behind them as they tried to comprehend the situation they were in. It was chaos, and Jazz took advantage of that to blend in. He caught bits and pieces from various enforcers; two- no, three?- aerials in the bank trying to rob it, potentially a lot of hostages- bank tellers and clients- and bomb threats.
...Maybe Jazz shouldn't be pretending to be an enforcer right now. He had been picturing something a little less extreme. He wasn't sure what less extreme meant in a situation where just about every enforcer in the city was involved, but he wasn't really picturing a hostage situation either.
Just as Jazz was beginning to carefully extract himself from the situation (no one was paying that much attention to him in the chaos), the chief of enforcers rolled up. Dread, surprise, and a secret third thing filled Jazz's spark in an instant.
Jazz had a few wet dreams about Chief Enforcer Prowl. He was a very attractive mech, what can he say?! Good-sized bumper with a nasty looking bull bar, strong thighs, bright red chevron... and don't get him started on the doorwings! But he was also so serious and kind of mean looking on TV- the only place Jazz had seen him- and maybe he was into that? It was hard to say (he absolutely was).
Prowl was the chief for a good reason, and that was thanks to his crazy advanced processor tech that let him bang out cold cases like they happened yesterday. The streets were much cleaner thanks to him, and while Jazz could admire his efforts and be grateful for the reduced likelihood of getting shanked in an alleyway- he was also not the most careful driver and may or may not have gotten into a few street races. For fun! He sent a quick prayer to Primus that the chief wouldn't recognize him from a blurry security video.
"What's the situation?" demanded Prowl, right at Jazz, because he happened to be the closest (not) enforcer. Up close, he looked even more intimidating, and he loomed over Jazz with his doorwings spread wide and his optics all laser-focused- Jazz was going to be thinking about that for groons now.
Jazz's jaw dropped for a moment before he remembered he was totally impersonating an enforcer at the moment, and the worst time to admit to doing so would be directly to the enforcer of all enforcers. "Um- There's three bots tryin' to rob the joint, lots of hostages, there's been a bomb threat- uh, sir," he rattled off, conjuring up the act he had been hoping to abandon in favor of not experiencing something super traumatic. He had been practicing his enforcer routine at home, but it was a bit different pretending to be one in a real situation and not... you know...
Prowl paused for the tiniest fraction of a klik, looking at Jazz before moving on and organizing his enforcers. Less than a breem of barked orders, and the chaos of the scene settled into perfected formation. Including Jazz, who was really only guessing what any of the codes shouted out meant.
"Get me on comm.s," ordered Prowl to someone, his voice coming across the area loud and clear. The presence... no Jazz, no! Active hostage situation happening right in front of you! Still, it was astonishing how collected the chief sounded despite the situation. He was urgent, yes, but also level. It was admirable. For a cop. "Is the perimeter secured?"
"Yessir!" replied one bot from across the arc of armored vehicles. Jazz pitied them for a moment. Used as living shields... yeesh. "Blue on the west tower, Sides on east, sir!"
Prowl only nodded, then turned his attention to a tent that had been set up on the outskirts. A mech who must have been the negotiator was set up with a slagload of equipment and comm. enhancers and whatever else Jazz didn’t really recognize.
“Who are we dealing with?” Prowl asked the negotiator, Jazz only hearing because he was actively trying to listen in. Drops of coolant prickled under his plating as the kliks went by. Any moment somebot could look at him and realize just how out of place he was.
“Three Seekers. Designations–” the negotiator paused, audial pressed against a comm. receiver. “They’re arguing. Sounds like–” he jerked his helm away from the device for a moment, and even Jazz could hear the feedback from across the perimeter. “Starscream.”
A brief murmur echoed down the line of enforcers. Jazz didn’t blame them. He knew of the mech just the same; loud, arrogant, egotistical, and comedically bad at keeping fists from denting his shiny red and blue plating.
“Along with Thundercracker and Skywarp. Ten hostages: all bank tellers,” the negotiator continued.
“What do they want?” Prowl’s doorwings twitched. Was he… was he bored?
“One million shanix,” the negotiator scoffed, then jerked his helm away from the receiver again as– almost 100% certainly– Starscream began doing what he did best. Screaming.
A burble of laughter traveled down the line of enforcers, and Jazz found it hard not to join in. A million shanix was a lot, but not nearly as much as what that bank held. Why not demand more?
“Mm. Well–”
“He’s threatening to shoot one of the clerks if we don’t take him seriously.”
Prowl’s helm snapped to look up at one of the big, arching windows of the bank. Jazz followed his gaze and, sure as slag, Starscream was just barely visible; null ray pointed at a kneeling teller’s forehelm.
“Don’t take him out,” Prowl announced calmly, probably to the snipers stationed on the roofs. “The other two are likely to start shooting hostages if he goes down.”
The line of enforcers went silent. Jazz’s sole focus went to Prowl, who was staring down Starscream from the ground. Oh, Primus what he wouldn’t do to get looked at like that. Or maybe he shouldn’t want to get looked at like that, considering the Seeker was robbing a bank to get it.
“Now he wants… two million shanix,” the negotiator managed to say without laughing.
Prowl uttered something under his breath that Jazz didn’t catch, his wings twitching again. “Do your thing,” he told the negotiator with a nod.
Jazz struggled to hear the next exchanges, but he could see that Starscream was getting pissier and pissier in the window. Clearly, this negotiator was slag. He chewed his derma as he watched the Seeker get worse, fuel pump racing with the horror of knowing that any second, he could be witnessing what it looks like when a helm gets shot through at close-range.
Frag, Jazz thought to himself, springing up the moment Starscream began frantically poking at the poor teller’s helm with the barrel of his null ray. He ran across the perimeter and to the tent, cursing under his breath the whole way. This was going to be his worst idea yet.
“Stop whatever you’re doin’, he’s gonna take her helm off!” Jazz cried, trying to ignore the piercing stare from the Chief. “I know this slagger, whatever textbook stuff you’re tellin’ him ain’t gonna work.”
“Shut up!” the negotiator hissed at Jazz, leaning far into his receiver. “No, no, no, no, not you, there’s–”
The sound of a null ray going off froze everyone. Jazz felt his spark constrict painfully, and he scrunched his optics shut tight. Too late. Frag. Never should have cruised around, never should have tagged along for curiosity’s sake, never should have–
“Warning shot,” Prowl said over the silence and from directly beside Jazz. “He shot the ceiling.”
The negotiator slumped with relief, and Jazz felt a coil unwind in his chest.
“See?” Jazz muttered aloud, pressing a palm to his helm. This was going to be top ten worst cycles of his functioning.
Prowl cast Jazz a long, calculating look. There was no doubt in his mind that the chief had clocked his ‘uniform’ as a bastardization right away. Like, c’mon- seduce and serve? Get real. It had to be Jazz’s confidence and audacity that let him slip by everyone else for this long.
“How can we talk Starscream down?” Prowl asked Jazz rather than the trained negotiator. That was a shock to perhaps everyone within audial range- Prowl was a chief who did things by the book, always. The negotiator began protesting, but was silenced by the back of a servo. “You said you know how this mech thinks. How do we deescalate?”
Jazz didn’t hesitate. Everyone had their optics on him now. Whether they were noticing he wasn’t a real cop or not was unclear, but what was clear was that he was helping with this now.
“Starscream’s got a huge ego. The one thing he wants more than power is being told he’s better than everyone else. You might be able to flatter him into lettin’ the hostages go, but he’s still stupid enough to try and make way with the shanix anyhow. You gotta sweet talk his accomplices too.” Prowl must have begun relaying the information via an enforcer frequency Jazz- because he wasn’t an enforcer- had no easy access to. His helm was tilted just slightly to the left and his optics had dimmed. “Thundercracker’s the soft one. I bet he’s only in there because the other two roped him into it. He won’t hurt another bot if he can help it. Skywarp… you’re only gettin’ him to agree to drop it if you offer him some top-shelf high-grade.”
Prowl nodded, but his optics remained dim with the signs of multiple internal communications happening. Jazz wondered what the limits of his processor were, with that tactical network secured in that handsome helm. He mentally hit himself again for the fantasy that was beginning to wake up in the dark corners of his mind.
“What are you waiting for? Try it!” Prowl barked to the negotiator after a few more precious kliks of silence. The negotiator flinched, but otherwise ducked back down into his little booth. “How do you know these mechs?”
Jazz bit the inside of his cheek. The truth would completely blow his cover, because the only reason he knew those three Seekers was because they were regulars at the club. It was very easy ascertaining what could deescalate them based solely off of their backroom behavior, but was he about to admit that he’d serviced bank robbers to the Chief of Enforcers? No thanks.
“I’ve seen ‘em around,” Jazz half-lied. “You can hear Starscream across two city blocks. It’s a wonder he even managed to get anything done before someone called the c– uh– us.”
Prowl shook his helm, but didn’t call Jazz out on anything. Yet. He had to know, right? There was no way.
The negotiator began floundering again, and Prowl whipped around to forcibly remove him from the tent. Again, Jazz half-wished it were himself in that position, and no amount of Currently-Ongoing-Hostage-Situation could shake him out of it. Curse his attraction to hot authority figures.
“Your turn,” Prowl said gruffly, motioning Jazz to the receiver.
“Me? But–”
“You have a 76.2% likelihood of being more proficient in diffusing difficult social situations than Hacksaw. I will take that over his chances of recovering whatever he’s managed to lose.” Prowl looked at Jazz a couple kliks longer, optics squinting. “No pressure.”
Jazz belted out a sharp laugh at that. No pressure, he says, in front of the giant bank full of hostages being held at gunpoint by one neurotic Seeker (and two questionable others). It’s not like the entire city’s law enforcement is dealing with this. Not like he’s just an imposter with too much curiosity and charm that’s good for him. But Prowl looked deadly serious; like if he failed, there really were no consequences. That was scary.
“Hey, Starscream, you there?” Jazz called once properly patched into the comm. unit. He should have known to keep his audial away from the receiver.
“Yes I’m here you bumbling fragwad!!!”
Ah, classic Starscream.
“Hey mech, that other loser got booted off. So sorry ‘bout him. Real rookie. We shoulda known better than to have him talk to ya. I mean you’re Starscream! That’s why they finally got wise ‘n’ put me on the line for ya. Name’s Jazz.”
“Well I– oh?” there was some rustling on the other end, some hushed whispers nearby. “Jazz who?”
Jazz mentally face-palmed. Stupid. He shouldn’t have used his real name. Of course he would recognize it. But… maybe this could work.
“Of Stanix, big mech,” Jazz purred. All or nothing. “This is my day job, y’know? So what can I do for ya?”
“Yeah right. There’s no wa–” more rustling, then some squabbling as, probably, someone wrestled the comm. away from Starscream.
“Jazz??”
That had to be Skywarp.
“Hey Warpy~” Jazz couldn’t help but grin to himself. “Listen, mech, this ain’t cool. I can’t promise any shanix, but I can do some other favors if you know what I mean.”
“What’s he saying?!” Starscream demanded in the background, screeching like he tended to do.
“Uh-huh,” Skywarp intoned dreamily. “Like what? Talk dirty to me.”
Jazz spared a glace over his shoulder at Prowl, who looked like he was five kliks from giving up on life. But, he wasn’t thrown out of the tent and he wasn’t getting yelled at, so he just lowered his voice a little and tried to pretend like this wasn’t an active crime scene.
“Well, remember that night two orns ago?” Jazz then went on to vividly describe a smattering of innuendos and positions and play-by-play descriptions of what he could do for Skywarp before Starscream must have beat him over the helm to get the comm. back.
“Okay so it is you. Primus, he’s leaking. Go clean yourself up, you fool!” Starscream huffed, grumbled something under his breath, then continued. “Listen to me very carefully. I want two million shanix and I want it now!”
“M-hm. We’re on it big mech. Just taking a while for the funds to transfer, y’know? In the meantime, I’d love to chat with TC. Tell him what a good job you’re doing.” It made zero sense, but Starscream wasn’t exactly smart when it came to getting his ego boosted.
“Fine!”
Silence. Shuffling.
“Hello?”
Jazz grinned wide. No way that worked. “Hey, Thunders. Pretty blue. Can you do be a big favor?”
There was a long, forlorn sigh. “Sure. What is it?”
“I need you and Warp to, ah, warp outta there, ‘kay? Can you do that for me?”
“What about–”
“Ssh, baby. I got this handled, alright? If you want I can reiterate what I told Skywarp and–”
“No, no, that’s fine.” Another brief pause. “Uh– yes I do think Starscream is doing a very good job at robbing this bank! The hostages are cowering beneath his mighty and powerful presence!” Thundercracker dropped to a whisper after his dramatic cover. “When do you want us out?”
“A-S-A-P, beautiful. I’ll tell the cops not to shoot ya. Hand me back to Screamer?”
Jazz wiped a bead of condensation off of his helm, turning back to Prowl again, receiver pressed to his chest.
“Got it,” Prowl murmured, standing stock still but clearly communicating to the other enforcers still. “Keep going.”
Whatever you say, hot stuff.
“Well?!” Starscream barked over the comm. line.
“Almost there, big mech! You’re really pullin’ this off!” Jazz cheered. “Only one thing you gotta do to cash in that two mil.”
“And what’s that?” Starscream spat, no doubt pacing around inside.
“Come stand all handsome in the window again. Flaunt your genius for the press! They’ll be reportin’ this slag for vorns.” Jazz looked pointedly at Prowl, who, because he was so smart, was already nodding like he understood exactly what Jazz was laying out. “Are you in the window?”
“Yessssss…” Starscream whispered, and Jazz could picture the kind of poses he was striking.
Then, like Primus striking down… well, striking down Starscream, a gunshot echoed in the air and the most horrific screech followed it. No more shots rang out, and shortly after, the enforcers all began to cheer.
Jazz slumped in the little negotiator’s chair, tossing the comm. unit away. Well that was not how his before-shift afternoon was supposed to go. Pits… As he recuperated from the stress of such an intense situation, he overheard other enforcers putting cuffs on Thundercracker and Skywarp and loading them into transport vehicles. Others were going into the bank to check on the hostages and drag Starscream out so he could go to jail, too. And no one died!! At least, he was pretty sure Starscream was still alive. One shot was hardly enough to snuff out a spark like his.
“Thank you,” Prowl said, pulling Jazz away from his thoughts. He offered a hand, which Jazz took without a second thought.
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Jazz replied, in a daze.
Prowl pulled Jazz away from the scene, blocking his frame from view of the media drones. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yes," Jazz answered immediately. His processor spun up a million different fantastical scenarios where the chief would just scoop him up right there and run off into the sunset. Or to a berth. He wasn't choosey.
"Why are you..." Prowl frowned down at Jazz, his optics cycling minutely as he chose his words carefully. "You're very clever. Why have you diminished yourself to... whatever it is you do?" Not carefully enough, it seems. Because really? 'Diminished'?! He was lucky he was handsome.
Jazz rolled his optics all the same. "The club isn't my main job. I choose to work there because I like it. I really do cultural investigation work, and sometimes when I'm stayin' somewhere for a bit, I might as well enjoy myself and make some extra shanix, right? Not that it's any of your business."
Prowl... flustered. Badly. His face turned a different hue and his doorwings drooped comically behind him. "Ah, my mistake," he sputtered. "I didn't mean- it's not like- er- you've just successfully deescalated a major hostage situation because you so happened to be here today. I cannot imagine how much worse it could have been without you. What I'm saying is-"
"I'm not gonna be a cop, sir." Jazz found it hard not to laugh. They say 'never meet your heroes!' because they're never what they're like on TV... only, Jazz found he rather liked this version of Prowl. He still loved the cold, stern persona on the news, Pit yeah, but this was strangely endearing in a way that he couldn't properly describe. "But thanks for the compliment. Even though you fragged it up."
"Sorry," Prowl hissed out, wincing. "I'm… not so good with giving praise."
“No kiddin’,” Jazz snorted. Prowl continued to wither, and that just wouldn’t do. “I’m glad I could help. Just, ah, forget about the part where I was-”
“Oh, no,” Prowl interjected, straightening. “You will still be charged for impersonating an enforcer.”
Jazz’s jaw? Dropped. “Excuse me?”
“You may have successfully aided in deescalating a major hostage situation, but I cannot ignore the crime you have committed in doing so.” Prowl began writing up a ticket of some sort, right before Jazz’s very optics. “Is there a court date which works best for you?”
“Wh- no? Are you serious?!” Jazz spluttered, looking at the maximum 1,000 shanix fine printed on the ticket. His fun money… down the drain… This was also not the kind of date he had in mind.
“Quite, I’m afraid. I will pick one for you, then. Keep a look out on your comm.s. And Jazz?” Prowl extended a servo and placed it lightly on Jazz’s pauldron. The touch forced Jazz to tear his optics away from the ticket and up to the Chief of Enforcer’s face. “You have my gratitude.”
With those final glyphs, Prowl was re-entering the fray of the press. A.K.A., leaving Jazz standing there, intake still open in shock. And mild arousal. Ok maybe moderate. Anyway.
Jazz checked his chronometer and found himself at an awkward time interval. His shift was too soon to drive home and relax, but it was also too distant to just clock in early. And there was no way in Pit he could just drive around a little longer. Primus knows how that went already. He may not get crippled by one 1,000 shanix ticket, but two ? He’d be scrounging for at least a couple groons.
…Actually, by the end of that night, he’d managed to wash it all away. Turned out that enforcers liked enforcer get-ups too.
The only mech missing was the Chief.