Chapter Text
Jazz had never been a big fan of enforcers. He'd spent too much time in Polyhex pissing them off for pickpocketing and daring to exist in public. So he'd done his research on the Captain. Prowl had started out as a rookie, before rising through the ranks, exposing incompetence and corruption as he climbed till he made it to the top, where he had since changed his tactics to the prevention of crime itself by providing services and support to the people of Praxus.
And Jazz was now realising that maybe breaking into ballroom belonging to the head cop of the city state wasn't the smartest decision he had ever made.
Jazz mumbled apologies as he scurried back into the entrance hall. In the light, Prowl didn't look any less striking.
The black and white lines of his enforcer armour were as sharp as the shadows he'd stepped from, and the highly strung edges of his wings were directed to the sky like daggers. He looked like the king from a chess board, carved out of both black and white marble.
"In the future, you will remember that there are certain rooms in this house that are not to be disturbed." Prowl stated, a strange emotionless to his voice whilst at the time being as pointed as his appearance. The Captain then looked him up and down. It was something Jazz had gotten used to over the years from mechs, even when dressed in his postulant capes. But instead of the usual leering, Prowl's look was more of that trying to decipher of particularly difficult maths question. "
Do you not use Polish at the order?" Prowl asked. "Just to keep ourselves clean." jazz shrugged. "We're not supposed to take pride in appearance." "I can see that. I shall have new polish sent to you in the morning." Jazz wasn't sure if he should be thankful or offended. He'll have to decide later on when he wasn't feelings like an idiot for being caught breaking and entering.
"I don't know how much Master Yoketron has told you." Prowl continued.
"Not much." Which was pretty typical for the temple monk who's rather speak in riddles than sense.
"You are the twelfth governor to look after the sparklings. Due to your background, I have calculated that you should remain longer than the previous one. She stayed only two hours."
"What's wrong with the bitlets?" Jazz asked before he could tell himself to stop.
"There is nothing wrong with my creations." In the protectiveness of his children, Jazz made out the first detectable traces of emotion prevalent in Prowl's voice. "Every morning you will drill the sparklings in their studies. In the afternoon they will march the grounds. And in the evening bedtime is to be strictly enforced. No exceptions."
"When do they play?" Prowl carried on as though he hadn't heard him. "You will see that they conduct themselves at all times with the utmost orderliness and decorum. I am placing you in command."
"Oh yes sir!" Jazz saluted, his smile the wrong side of sarcastic.
If Prowl noticed he didn't comment. Instead he whistled a sharp shrill sound that had Jazz covering his audial horns. By the time Jazz looked up, six sparklings were marching down the nearby stairs in near perfect synch, before standing an in equally near perfect line. Well it would be perfect if there wasn't an obvious gap missing.
Not long later, the seventh sparkling wondered by, a femme with a silver frame who's olfactory were stuck in a databook. She seemed surprised to be surrounded even though there was no way she could not have heard the whistle. Jazz made a mental note of it as she quickly handed it over to her Sire before taking her place in line.
"As I sound your signals, step forward and give give your names." Prowl told them before turning his attention back to Jazz. "You will learn their signals so that you can call them needed."
Jazz could easily memorise the notes in a sparkbeat if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. So he made a deliberate effort not to pay attention to the notes as each sparkling called out their name.
"Skids." The mech closest to them with a dark blue finish and yellow optics of the line who was presumably the eldest stepped forward with a simple nod. He must be due his final upgrades soon.
"Barricade." Stated the next mech, a sharp edge to his voice that matched the dark purple and greys of his armour. "Smokescreen." A mechling probably in the frame phase before his older brothers said with barely contained boredom.
"Sliverstreak." The femme who had been reading earlier said with a polite emptiness.
"Strongarm." Said the other femme who's steady stance was a clear imitation of her sire's.
"Bluestreak!" Came the most positive response so far from the second to last bot.
Then the youngest, a bright green sparkling who was the only one that must have taken after their creator due to his lack of obviously Praxian features, stepped forward before standing back in silence.
"Springer." Prowl supplied when the sparkling didn't speak. He then turned those blazing blue optics back to Jazz. In his hand he held out a silver whilstle. "Let's see how well you listened."
"Thanks but I won't need to whistle for them!" Jazz tired to brush it away as though rejecting a rust stick. "I'll use their designations. Specially since they're so sweet. Would be a waste to not use 'em."
"This is a large house. The grounds are very extensive. And my work is of the utmost importance to Praxus. Therefore I will not be disturbed by shouting." The discussion apparently already over as Prowl once again held out the whistle. "Keep this. Learn to use it. The sparklings will help you. When I want you, this is what you will hear."
Jazz grabbed the thing from Prowl's servos before horrible screeching could once again scratch his audial horns. "I ain't never answering to a whistle! They are for cyber-cats or other small animals. Not for sparklings. And definitely not for me."
Prowl stared at him with that calculating gaze that was starting to become familiar.
"Tell me, were you this much trouble at the temple?" He asked.
"Oh way more!"
"I see." Prowl stated as though he'd finished putting together the pieces to a puzzle before just walking away as though he wasn't an annoying stain of slag who expected his staff and sparklings to accept being treated as animals.
SCHREEEEE
The shrieking cry from Jazz's new whistle stopped the Captain in his tracks.
"I'm sorry sir but I don't know your whistle." Jazz said with his special smile.
At least one of the bits coughed a hidden laugh.
Prowl did not look amused.
"You will call me Captain."
With that he marched out of the room to do whatever he was he deemed to be more important than looking after his own creations.
Jazz decided that he should have definitely been offended.