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Coming to Praxus had never been a question. Of all the cities – major and minor – that he had traveled through, he had heard more than enough to tell him Praxus was a must, not a maybe.
Real clean city, he would say that. All the roads were free of any litter or debris or cracks from well-use. Not a single smudge on any metallic or plexi-surface he passed. Every streetlight was fresh and bright, not a one flickering in need of replacement.
Praxus was clean in a way that was almost sterile – untouched. Ratchet would have done something unmentionable for a full medbay half this clean in the Dead End.
Or maybe it was the fact he arrived after the well-enforced curfew he’d heard about, when most citizens would be home and only tourists and night-shifters would be out and about. For a city that 'welcomed' visitors, Praxus wasn’t about to change itself to suit them, oh no. A city with a strict personality to it. Jazz could respect that.
Was maybe even just a bit too intrigued by it all.
Nice tall buildings, shiny windows – great for reflections as he drove by. Reflections of himself, reflections of the streetlights…
Reflections of the little drones that kept following him around the city. He hadn’t stopped to switch to base mode yet as he drove around, taking roundabout after roundabout and a variety of turns. Sure, he didn’t know where he was going – not yet – but who went to a new city and didn’t bother to take in the sights? Never like Jazz had gotten lost in a city before.
The roads would lead him where he needed to be. They always did.
Whether Staniz or Polyhex or Protihex or Hydrax, or the big Iacon himself, the road would always tell you where to go if you listened to it. And Jazz happened to be real good at listening.
A tiny flicker of light blinked in his sideview mirror as he followed an off ramp toward the less populated streets under the Great Overpass, the large speedway that surrounded and cut through Praxus, its main traffic thoroughfare that they built and redirected again and again on its towering pillars to allow for upward building rather than outward. Nothing of Praxus extended beyond its preset borders.
None of the other big cities were as strict about staying within their boundaries, not even Kaon and how she built down deep into the interior and beyond, and especially not Vos because when had Vos ever thought boundaries were anything more than a suggestion to be ignored for their own amusement? But Praxus. Praxus kept all of its properties to itself.
The off ramp led to an intersection with three directions: east to the skyscraping residential compounds, west to the city’s proper center, and northwest through an underpass tunnel into the more industrial and factory-dense area of town. Of course, Jazz had to pick northwest.
And with a tilt of his mirrors, he could see that when the drone from the Overpass backed off, another one took its place to his right. They were small and definitely covered in some kind of stealth coating to make them blend more with the world around them, having them almost glitch in and out of existence. Like a shy little observer trying to hide itself away. Had he been someone else, he might not have even noticed them, especially with how almost silent they were.
But it was only almost.
He took the tunnel, followed the road as it told him to turn left, then right, seeing the factories – many of them active with workers if the smoke and lights and sounds could be evidence enough, but none seem to ever step outside – that took up far less space than ya might expect. Probably built upwards just like everywhere else in Praxus, he thought. The curious thing was the small buildings littered around the factories, little monitoring stations that were completely empty. Shouldn’t the factories have guards to watch over them? But no, each station was void of any mech within to stand watch over the businesses around them.
Huh.
Jazz took another turn…and realized the road had sent him right back towards the underpass.
Oh. Should have seen that coming. A note hummed from within the tunnel – soft like an engine gone quiet, but nothing he couldn’t hear as clear as a bell. Jazz couldn’t help but shift into reverse, driving backwards only to spin himself around and go back the way he came. There was a rumble and a whirr and a shift beneath his wheels. He couldn’t tell if the road was angry or surprised. Good.
He headed back towards the factories, in particular to one of the few open spaces around them that wasn’t meticulously utilized. Hard to make use of it with the pillars of the Overpass so close as to hinder upward development. So instead it became a shadowed blank space. Just as clear and managed as anywhere else, but no purpose given.
The perfect place for him, really.
He flipped into bot mode like he was gliding through a drift in the rain, smooth and fast. It didn’t take long for him to set up the little pop up stool he kept in his subspace or to get the vibrolin he’d selected for the occasion. He had figured the kinds of tastes that Praxus boasted, they would prefer it to his sitar or electro-bass. And of course, as Jazz never went without back-ups to his plans, he has his cy-lyre just in case.
He played – the sounds of industrialization dispelled by the soft but cheerful notes taking over the muted airwaves, fingers skillfully dancing along the strings for each rise and fall, the opening act of his performance.
He played his welcome and introduction, letting the city know who he was and his intentions, cheeky though they may have been.
I am here, nice to meet ya. Name’s Jazz. On the nose, but ya nose fits ya right where it’s meant to, don’t it?
He could feel the vibrations under his pedes, the way they tingled up his struts like a note of confusion, accusation…curiosity. He left his stool and spun away from the stationary position, pedes gracefully tapping in connection to the vibrations. He even added it to the song, adjusting the hold of his bow so he could tap in between the arco, then punctuated them with a harsher tap of his feet as he spun and dipped and even threw in a couple winks of his doorwings for emphasis.
Thought I’d like to get to know ya, since I’ve heard so much about ya. Quite a name you’re making for ya’self.
His optics had been offline the entire time, but his audials were primed, even with the sway and hold of the music taking over him. Because this wasn’t just a performance – this was a conversation. One that he did have mostly with himself, but he knew his dance partner was listening, even if he wasn’t saying much.
Then he was flying through the air, leaping with a spin and landing on one pede, head bent low just as the song’s crescendo struck and his optics online right at the sight of the little drone, watching him intently, still glitching in and out in a way only he would see. Because it wasn’t just any kind of drone.
Jazz smirked.
“Looks like I’ve got my own little prowler following me around, huh,” he said. “Hope you enjoyed the performance.”
The drone of course said nothing. He didn’t expect it to, but knowing he had its attention was more than enough. It circled in closer, and the static in his audials let Jazz know it was scanning him.
“My audiences usually ask first if they want to get up that close and personal,” Jazz said, “but I guess I can make an exception for you.”
The drone stopped in front of Jazz’s face and a red light blinked across its hover panels. It was kind of cute, if ya thought a spy-drone could be cute like some kind of pet droids. He reached out, and it backed away, causing Jazz’s servos to pause before he started to pull back.
“Hey, I wasn’t trying to scare ya off so quick, just trying to say hello,” he said. He held his hand out, kept it still, and eventually the drone did come back into touching distance. Jazz’s wings quivered back and forth a humming sound echoing around them. The drone’s light turned blue and he could feel the scanning happening all over again, his circuits tingling in a way that shouldn’t be so…ticklish? Nah, something else he maybe didn’t want to think about right then.
“Yeah, that’s gonna take some getting used to,” Jazz murmured, but it didn’t stop him from taking that chance to touch the drone. He smiled softly, running his servos along the panels and lights.
“See, not out to hurt ya,” Jazz said. “Usually I like talking more personal-like, so we can get to know each other better, but this is cool. We can work our way up. Nice to meet ya, Praxus.”
”1-9-7-B.”
It took a second for Jazz to realize that it came out of the drone. “...What?” he asked.
”1-9-7-B. 3-4-3-D-A-5. 9-9-9-1-B–”
“Uh…” Jazz was very confused. “What’s this about?”
”The ordinances you have violated that have placed you under immediate detainment and investigation.”
And before Jazz could say anything more, the lights on the drone turned bright and blinding and the sound of metal-shifting cracked through his confusion just as he felt his wrist be caught in what he realized very quickly was a stasis cuff attached to an extendable arm of said drone. He tried to pull away but he couldn’t and the drone was a lot stronger than its small body looked. A current of electricity shook his entire body making him drop his vibrolin to the ground right before he collapsed himself, dangling and unable to control his motor functions as his own arm was still attached to the slagging drone.
Then the drone showed the slightest of mercies by allowing Jazz to lie prone on the ground, frame still twitching from the tasing, HUD full of warnings for a potential stasis lock, as it extended yet another arm to fully cuff him.
He tried to speak but all he could get out was a brief incredulous laugh. This was not how he expected these introductions to go. He tried again.
“P–###–ax–###–s…”
”You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it, Cityspeaker. We will talk soon enough.”
Suddenly lights flashed out of the corner of Jazz’s visor and he could hear the sirens of enforcers as they neared. The ground rumbled with their pending arrival, but really, Jazz thought that the road was a tad too smug for his liking.
Should have known better than to think the Police State of Praxus was of all things shy.