Title: A Risky Gambit

Author: Fianna9

Verse: G1 AU

Prompt: the enemy of my enemy...

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mention of violence

Disclaimer: I don't own any version of Transformers.

Summary: What might have happened if Sunstorm was been the original and Starscream the clone?

"Tell me, little citydweller, why I shouldn't deactivate you where you stand?"

Kup, the only clansmech old enough to live through it, had spun tales for the clan of the beginning of things. He told the open stories: how the Seeker's new leader had rebelled against Sentinel Prime claiming that the grounder defied Primus' order. All the grounder clans knew that the great city-state of Praxus had been destroyed for denying the Winglord's claim of divine right to rule. The death of Sentinel shortly afterwards had sealed the Winglord Sunstorm as the new ruler of Cybertron. Few dared to challenge him and his army of Seekers.

Jazz had heard the whispered rumors of the Praxian survivors of the massacre fleeing into the Manganese Mountains. He'd also heard tales of criminals ceasing the unwary mixed with farfetched stories of half-monsters roaming the paths. All that was truly known was that few who risked entering deep into the mountains ever returned, and none of those who returned had wings.

In short, Jazz had no sane reason to risk his surviving kin on this foolish trek into the mountains.

"So, you bring to me two of my former city kin and the Seeker sparklings that you stole out of the kindness in your spark. You admit that you have few weapons and minimal numbers of fighters. You demand that I break our traditions and join with your decimated clan against the Seekers. Have I missed anything, outsider?" The black and white mech shook his helm slightly at the smaller figure kneeling before him.

"I didn't free them out of the kindness of my spark. I freed them because it harms Sunstorm." Jazz snapped, glaring at the larger mech's feet. "I hate him as much as you do."

"You challenge the Winglord directly, youngling?" Scarred panels flickered briefly mirroring the slight amusement in the gravelly voice. "You do wish to be destroyed."

"I challenge the delusional sadist who offlined my creators for sport. He sacrificed my brother to his insane, imaginary god." Optics flashing beneath his visor, Jazz clenched his fists and started to rise. A warning growl reminded him of his place, and he forced his frame still. "Releasing his pleasure slaves, Smokescreen and Skids?" Counting the second rumbled growl drawn from the mech as a prize, Jazz hurried. "Shows his deluded followers he's not as powerful as he claims. Stealing the god-chosen's offspring and knowing they'll be raised to hate him? A pleasure. I want to see him defeated by the grounders and half-spawn he lords over." A silent command slid the visor up, revealing his ice blue optics as he dared to stare up at Prowl's chest. Jazz whispered, "I want to see him ruined by the ones he tried to destroy. Help me make them pay for everything they've done. Help me make them suffer like your city suffered."

"We do not ally with outsiders." A taloned hand reached out and firmly grabbed Jazz's left shoulder, cutting lightly into his plating. "There is only one course of action." Out of arguments, Jazz stilled and waited for the lord's decision.

Amber optics flickered gold as the ancient stared at the mech standing before him. After a moment, the claws traced up to Jazz's throat, tilted his head up to look directly at Prowl. A dark smile greeted Jazz's optics. "Let us welcome the rest of our clan home, my mate."