Universe: G1 AU
Characters: Streetwise, Hot Spot, Prowl, Jazz

Dust had long settled when Streetwise emerged from the bunker. Slowly, servos clinging on the metal of the rungs, optics fixed on where he put them. Even when he hauled himself out of the hatch, he remained knelt just outside. He didn't want to look. He couldn't. Silence had fallen on the city, even his doorwings couldn't catch anything. Clenching his fists, coolant starting falling from his optics already, Streetwise vented deeply. In, out. Once, twice, thrice. Then he raised his helm slowly.

A land of gray opened in front of him. Ruins emerging like empty, mangled frames escaping from a sea of rubble.
Streetwise felt his wings shake, and a keen escaped him. Then another.
"Why?" he muttered softly, then raised his voice, as his engine whined almost loud. "Why?! Primus why?!"
No voice replied to him. Nothing but the low rumble of a building collapsing in the distance.

- - -

Three vorns later

Pubs were open at all times, day or night, especially in a city like Polyhex.
And Streetwise was glad. The music hurt his doorwings. But it was better than the silence.
He couldn't listen to silence anymore. He rubbed his optics as he entered, choking down the whine his engine wanted to make. Frag this, all of this. Streetwise just wanted to drink.
Music blasted right in his audials as soon as he stepped inside. His doorwings immediately twinged in protest, but Streetwise Just ignored it. Making his way in, he looked around. The place was packed. No free tables. So he went over to the counter, sitting on a stool. His wings pinned down, the sensitivity at minimum.
'The strongest high grade you have. " he said to the bartender, barely glancing at his green visor.
" Ya got it mech. " the mech replied, his accent prominent and grinding against his audials. Yeah, Polihexian. He missed the peculiar tones of Praxian dialect. Everything else sounded just so wrong. His spark gave him another pang. The sooner that high grade arrived, the better.

That mech at least was quick. A glass of bright violet liquid was placed in front of him. Its smell already burning his receptors.
"Whoa mech! You go straight to the strong stuff, don't you?" a voice asked from his side and Streetwise frowned as he turned to look at a white and red mech grinning at him.
"None of your business." he replied curtly while sipping at his drink. Appreciating even the burning of the liquid trickling down his throat. He could already feel his processor buzz.
"Aw mech, what's your problem? I meant it as a compliment."
Streetwise just glared and his wings flicked angrily. Why can't that mech just catch a hint?
"Hot Spot leave 'im alone, will ya?" the bartender suddenly butted in "He's ah doorwinger. Ya should know."
Hot Spot's grin disappeared immediately.
"Ah... Sorry mech I went to help too. I didn't mean... You want to talk about it?"
"No."
Streetwise watched the mech leave at that, just looking apologetic. Normally he'd feel sorry. Now not really. He could just drink in peace.

He didn't stop at the first drink. He was at three, the same bartender serving him the other two.
His need for solitude was starting fading as his processor swirled with random thoughts. His control over crying too was slipping, and his optics burnt. He trembled slightly, a single coolant drop falling from his optics.
"Ya good mech?" the usual voice butted in again. A touch on his shoulder accompanying it. Streetwise trembled at how comforting it was. "ya downed those cubes like nothin'."
Even that accent was less annoying now.
"I'm fine." he slurred out, his voice sounding weird, before he placed his helm on the counter. Everything was spinning quite a lot, but honestly Streetwise didn't care. He could always wake up when they kicked him out.
He felt his optics turn off.

- - -

His doorwings ached. Cramps creeping up in his back struts, waking him from the dizziness of overcharge. He was laying on his back. As soon as he realized that he booted up his optics, alarm flaring inside his spark.
He hadn't been laying down when he passed out.
Darkness greeted him, as he shifted to his side, feeling the decently soft berth under him. But there were none of his doorwing pillows. This wasn't apartment.

'Sorreh mech. Ya didn't want be moved. "

His spark almost stopped, as a green visor lit up in mid air our of nothing. Just a few inches from him. Streetwise scrambled trying to get as far as he could from him, and going to unsheathe his weapons. His armor shifting, but no blasters coming out.

" Ah, yeah your weapons. Ah thought you'd react like that... So Ah took them. Only borrowed, don't ya worry."

Finally the lights turned on. Though still dim, Streetwise could make out the silhouette of a small mech. Visor, antennas, and that accent.
"You are the bartender! Are you out of your mind?" he snapped, trying to cover terror with the anger he already felt. Just pushing it a bit more.
"Nah. Ya were passed out. Ah took ya ta mah home. Ya could always thank me." the mech snorted before grinning at him. Streetwise didn't like his grin.

"Well, I am awake. Give me my weapons back and I am leaving." he said sharply and started getting off the berth. The mech never stopped grinning watching him. But didn't move. Streetwise sprang toward the door, hoping to be let go.

Cold digits yanked him back by his scruff bar.
" Naw mech, Ah need ya only for a moment." he said, and his tone was so soft the Praxian shivered. "a couple of questions. Then ya'll be free. With some more options as well"
Streetwise had started trembling. This had never happened to him. But he knew. His boss' warning burning in the back of his mind.

"I am a simple praxian survivor." he said quietly "I don't know what you'd want from me."
The mech just continued grinning. The former cop would have preferred a scowl right now. His accent was fading though.

"No need for lies. I've been looking for ya too long for that. So mech, why don't you tell me what you know of Prowl of Praxus and we get over with it? I'll even offer you a place in Iacon. No more drinking yourself to recharge in this pit. 'he said smoothly. Streetwise immediately shook his helm. Though denying contact with his boss seemed impossible. How that mech even found Prowl?
"I know nothing." he replied sharply "really. I just guarded his brother. No more."
The smile went away. And Streetwise realized he didn't like his scowl now that saw it.
"Wrong answer. Sorreh mech."

- - -
Jazz let himself lean on the wall as he stared at the trembling mass of metal laying on the floor, whimpering and sobbing. Why did he have to go straight to hacking? He could have insisted more. He should have.
He had been so frustrated. But now it was even worse.
" How does no one know anything?" he muttered. He closed his optics, waiting for the mech to recover. Maybe if he examined them again... Maybe this wouldn't be useless.
He accessed the copied files in his memory.

Jazz could see a younger looking Streetwise picking up an adorably small Blue. Police decals shining on his doorwings.
"And where do you come from?" he asked quietly. As the mech looked around, Jazz didn't focus on the brightly colored Praxian he knew was going to talk to Streetwise. He focused on the scenery. Praxus, he didn't know much. He had been there only a couple of times. But the massive buildings, shining with opulence, made him think of the rich center of the city. Nothing more than that he could find as he listened to young Smokescreen already thanking the police bot with a grateful voice. There was nothing.

Jazz frowned as he emerged from the first memory. Streetwise was still just whining and sobbing, clutching his helm like Jazz had smashed it. He opened another file, hoping that particular file, that one conversation had some details he missed. There had to be!

"Where did you get this comm frequency?" Streetwise asked suspiciously, standing in his living room. Jazz was just beside him, or was him, it depended on his perception. He focused, not caring much about the surroundings now. Just sound and undertones.

"Easy. This is just a work offer. I know police doesn't pay well, even mechs with a good record like yours." a familiar calm, inflectionless voice replied. Jazz tried to keep anger at bay. "I know you helped my brother today. I need a bodyguard for him."

"For him?" Streetwise asked, and Jazz could see the image of the youngling flashing in his processor, like it was his own. Even the wave of tenderness that filled his spark. "you searched me on the record and want to hire me for that?"

"I looked up your record because Smokescreen was grateful for your help, and I wanted to see if we could repay you. I am offering you a good pay, much more than you can hope to earn where you are." the voice replied and Prowl just sounded so calm and sure of himself. " you need the credits. "

-How does he know?!- the thought shot through Jazz, and the agent grimaced. The only thing he had caught on was the fact the mech knew a lot about bots. Ops for sure. Much like himself. But that wasn't enough.

Jazz watched as Streetwise accepted the job even creeped out. The mech was desperate. And from the fleeting thoughts impressed in the memory, an eviction notice was really a good reason to accept a job even from a creepy mech. Jazz would know.

The other memories were literally just him talking to Prowl about paychecks, and then watching over Bluestreak. Prowl literally told him nothing. This was just a waste of time and useless violation. Jazz frowned down at the mech slowly recovering. Guilt was not something he felt often.

Then again, he wasn't wrong often either.

"Sorreh." he said quietly, and started leaving before the Praxian could get up and try to exact rightful revenge.
He vanished in the streets of Polyhex.

- - -

When Jazz returned to Iacon, his visor setting back on blue, everyone was just happy to see him. Patting his back, asking if he kicked some con aft. Luckily no one was good at reading under his bright smile and happy chuckles. That until he arrived to the room next to his. His smile fell. He had enough of going around the problem. He was going right in.

Hacking Prowl's door should have been easy. It wasn't even for him, a saboteur. This was not standard lock, nor an easy additional protection. This was equivalent to his own protection.
"Special ops alright." he muttered under his vents. It was evident, but Praxus had always been a hell to get information from. He had no idea of who Prowl had been in that field. Maybe his data pads could hold they answer.
If only he could hack that door.

" Looking for me, Jazz?"

Jazz cursed softly to himself, his frown deepening before he spun around.
"Prowl." he greeted firmly. Taking in the white and black mech, the golden marks on his doorwings... Which seemed more than usual.

'I should arrest you for attempted violation of a superior's private quarters. " the mech said nonchalantly, but Jazz went completely still. He wasn't sure his spark still beat.

" Ya are not mah superior. " he said in quiet disbelief.

" From two days ago yes. Optimus would have told you about  it, but you were off to one of your missions. I was planning to inform you in better circumstances." Prowl said smoothly 'but here we are. For today, I'll let it slide. Welcome back, commander. "
And the Praxian went to the door, entering and leaving Jazz with a slack jaw.
That fragger.