Dark spots swam before Prowl's optics. He had no control of himself as he was jostled around, his head lolling off to the side. The stench of e-cigs and alcohol caused the throb in his head to worsen. He grimaced, squeezing his optics shut before forcing them back open in an attempt to clear his vision.

Fuck... they drugged me again.

Somewhere to his right, he could hear voices, but they were too faded to make out. He heard music, the constant pounding rhythm sending vibrations through his chest.

Where the hell am I...?

Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, forcing him to his pedes. Another hand grabbed his arm and yanked him hard so that he staggered forward. He nearly fell several times, but two supports on either side kept him upright as he walked.

The music got louder, the forceful bass seeming to rattle his very spark chamber with each note. Various colors melted together before his optics, creating a sort of kaleidoscope effect with the dark spots already swimming in his vision.

He had to be in some sort of club, but not knowing what kind concerned him. Jazz liked to hang around and party. That didn't mean he went to those clubs, right?

Primus, he hoped not. That would be bad news for him.

Prowl's vision seemed to be improving, albeit slowly, while his headache only worsened. It felt like waking up in the early morning hours after getting blackout drunk the night before with a massive, throbbing headache that only spending time curled up in the dark could relieve.

A pair of hands steered him in another direction. Now that his vision wasn't so blurry, he could make out booths and tables with bots sitting and playing cards. There was gambling, drug dealing, and just about everything else illegal.

Which explained why those he walked past gave him dirty looks. He was a cop in a fucking casino... club.. thing.

Eventually he was stopped and pushed into a booth, where he quickly grabbed the edge of the table and attempted to collect himself. Someone scooted up beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Prowler! Glad you could make it!" Jazz's painfully unique voice cut through the noise. He turned Prowl by the shoulder and raised a brow. "Hell, you're even prettier when you're high, hah!"

Prowl grimaced at the sudden ringing in his audio receptors and dialed down their sensitivity, hoping that would help ease the stress on his processor.

Ugh...

"Actually, I'm not sure if I like him this quiet. Here, gimme that—"

Prowl felt a pinch in his arm. Almost instantly, the fog in his mind lifted and his vision cleared completely. He blinked a few times, still reeling from the drug's effects.

"Ah, there he is. I bet ya feel a lot better now, huh?"

"Aside from the throbbing headache... yes." Prowl grumbled.

Jazz laughed. "Sorry! Jus' a side effect."

Under the somewhat dim casino lighting, Jazz's visor cast a soft glow across the rest of his frame—including that signature smirk that Prowl had come to hate. Whenever a colored beam of light illuminated the room, somehow perfectly highlighting the curve of Jazz's frame, Prowl found himself entranced for moment or two before he quickly snapped out of it.

Must also be an effect of the drug.

"What are we doing here, Jazz?" Prowl asked, now scowling.

"What's it look like? Havin' fun, obviously." Jazz replied with a grin. "I wanted to show ya off a bit before I meet with someone to do business. Everyone wants to know how I managed to get a cop from Iacon wrapped around my finger~"

Prowl's scowl deepened. "I don't understand what you hope to gain from all this other than personal satisfaction. You know I have information, yet you keep fooling around and teasing the idea of getting it from me so much that it's almost painful to watch."

"God, you're so analytical. Not everything needs to be analyzed to death." Jazz scoffed as he took a drink from his glass while shaking his head. "It's a good thing I don't care about your opinion, otherwise I'd be a pretty shitty criminal, wouldn't I? Besides, there's no fun in revealin' everything early. Exercise some patience, Prowler. I know ya have plenty of it."

Prowl rolled his optics. "Right. So who's this business partner of yours?"

"He's not my business partner." Jazz replied, swirling his drink around in its glass. "And you'd be wise to keep ya mouth shut. He doesn't like questions, especially from cops. Just sit still and look pretty, 'kay? If you're good, maybe I'll consider removin' those cuffs."

Prowl glanced down. Sure enough, a pair of cuffs bound his wrists together. However, there was a chain attached to them that went under the table and led to where Jazz was sitting. A quick peek confirmed that the saboteur did indeed have the end of the chain wrapped around his hand.

Great.

Several minutes passed with nothing really happening besides Jazz finishing his drink. Prowl studied Jazz for a little while. It was unusual behavior for him not to talk for more than a minute. Whenever he was around, it seemed like the saboteur would never stop talking.

The lull in activity finally ceased when Jazz appeared to see who he was looking for. Prowl turned his head in time to see two mechs parting through the crowd. Upon reaching the booth, they stepped aside and a larger, broad-shouldered mech came forward. Prowl's spark sunk.

"And here I thought this was another one of your elaborate jokes." Brawl chuckled. His gaze met Prowl's and his grin grew. "Hello, Prowl. Long time no see."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to see your ugly mug again." Prowl said with a scowl.

Brawl crossed his arms. "Well, as you know, we don't always get what we want. And sometimes, other people are the reason for that." He stared Prowl down for a moment, his yellow visor gleaming with malicious intent, then stepped back. "Let's go somewhere more... private. I've got a suite reserved just for this occasion."

"You know just how I like to do business." Jazz said. He tugged on the chain and smirked at Prowl. "Let's go, Prowler~"

Prowl lowered his head with an exasperated sigh, then slid out of the booth and waited. Jazz gave the chain another tug as he followed Brawl and his associates, forcing Prowl to trail behind the group like he was some sort of pet turbofox.

There was only one word that could describe what he was feeling: humiliation.

•
•
•

The suite was spacious and nothing short of luxurious, though Prowl was more interested in keeping himself upright than admiring the decor. His chain had been shortened and attached to a chair, making it impossible for him to kneel or even sit down.

Two of Brawl's henchman guarded the door, with another two on the other side of it. Brawl was pouring Jazz a drink in the lounge area just in front of Prowl. He soon took his own drink in hand and approached, smirking.

"After all those years spent locking people up, you finally know what it's like to be chained. Doesn't feel good, does it?" Brawl sneered. He reached over and grabbed Prowl by the jaw. "He's a hard one to find. How'd you catch him?"

"Ah ah ah~" Jazz wiggled his index finger back and forth. He was masking his annoyance, though not well enough to avoid detection from a well-trained eye. "Hands off the merchandise, Brawl. He's display only."

"Merchandise? I'm not some fucking trinket." Prowl retorted with a scowl.

Brawl chuckled softly. "Look at that. He can speak." He withdrew and turned around. "My apologies. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's discuss the deal, shall we?"

Prowl caught a glimpse of Jazz glaring at him and ignored it.

'Keep your mouth shut'... yeah right.

Jazz swirled the liquid around in his glass. "How badly do ya want him?"

"Bad enough."

Jazz was not satisfied with Brawl's answer, so he elaborated.

"Bad enough that I'm willing to pay you handsomely, and I'm talking more than just shanix."

"Mhm.." Jazz hummed thoughtfully, as if considering Brawl's offer. "Okay. Why do ya want him so bad?"

A tendril of unease wriggled its way into Prowl's spark and took root. He shifted his weight between his pedes, eying Brawl tentatively.

The brutish mech sipped from his glass and smirked. "The same reason you do: revenge. He's done some... things to me in the past that I'd like to make him pay for."

Jazz finished his drink and set the empty glass aside. "Ya seem eager to close the deal. What if I'm not done with him yet? How long are ya willin' to wait?"

"Don't pull this shit with me again, Jazz!" Brawl's demeanor shifted instantly. "You said you would be done with him by the time we met up. Well, I'm here and I want him. Now."

"Tsk tsk. So impatient." Jazz smiled at Brawl. "I suggest ya follow my terms... unless ya want that little secret project of yours to be leaked. How unfortunate that would be..."

Brawl clenched his jaw and stiffened his posture, looking as though he were ready to tackle Jazz but making no move to do so. He cast a slight glare at Prowl, then released an exasperated sigh.

"You can't keep getting away with this." He growled. "Next time we meet, I'm taking him. Deal or no deal."

With that, Brawl stormed out of the room.

The moment he was gone, Jazz dropped the act and stormed over to Prowl.

"I fuckin' told you to keep ya mouth shut." He hissed as he furiously unhooked the chain from the chair.

Prowl rolled his optics. "Oh please. I made one comment—ngh!" He grunted when Jazz yanked him forward.

They were standing optic to optic, mere inches from each other. Prowl could smell the sweet scent of engex that hung around Jazz, as well as some other pleasant odor he couldn't quite identify. Was that... perfume?

"Brawl isn't to be fucked with." Jazz seethed.

"I know that. We have a history. A long one."

"Longer than ours?"

Prowl remained silent. He stared into Jazz's visor, searching for Primus knows what before lowering his gaze.

Jazz scoffed and dragged him towards the door. "Whatever. You'll talk eventually. I'll make ya."

Reluctantly, Prowl trudged after Jazz, conflicting feelings now swirling in his spark. This behavior wasn't like the Jazz he knew—the cruel, cunning trickster that always went to great lengths just to spite him. This was someone else; a different Jazz.

Was he doing it for attention? Or was there truly something else there?