Thirteen seconds. That was all it took for a plan to go totally to the pit. One moment he, Prowl and Mirage were quietly infiltrating the Decepticon base and then the alarms blared all around them. Pounding boots, blazing weapons and screamed curses overwhelmed his finely tuned sensor array. He dampened it all down, trying to avoid the crash of his whole sensor net. A whimper of pain escaped his lips, and suddenly a calming hand touched his arm. He couldn't hear the words, but the concern blazed forth from startlingly blue eyes.
"I'm ok, Prowler," he replied, in spite of the reality that none of them were really ok at the moment. The screaming sounds died down to a more ominous silence.
"We need to make a strategic retreat. This mission is compromised and staying here will only result in unnecessary damage to our team and risk of capture. Back to the breach.." Prowl's commanding voice cut through the looming silence. They only had moments before the Cons overtook their position, and Jazz never looked forward to interrogation by Soundwave, who had been the target of their mission to begin with, and who was certainly at the center of their discovery.
"I will cover you both. Head out and I will follow shortly once the coast is clear," replied Mirage, blinking out of visual existence seconds later.
Without needing additional prompting, Prowl and Jazz wheeled around, rushing back the way they had come. Safety and their retraction team was only seconds away. But as Jazz knew too well, it only took seconds for even the best of Prowl's plans to be blown part by a lucky shot. And speaking of a lucky shot, he heard the whine of the weapon blast only moments before he saw Prowl's gate hitch and his pedes falter. Jazz whirled around, covering Prowl with return fire while trying to get a visual on his friend's damage. Prowl sunk down to his knees, drawing air frantically through his vents, dampening sensors around the damage to his sensor wings. Highly painful and distracting injury, but not inherently life threatening, at least in the short term and he knew Ratchet would be waiting for him on the transport back to the Ark.
When the weapons fire ceased, Jazz turned back to hoist Prowl up to his feet and carry him back home if necessary. Prowl tried to brush his hands away and reassure Jazz he was fine when one final shot pierced the hallway. He felt Jazz stiffen under his touch and collapse into his arms. Where was Mirage and his cover fire, Prowl's processor screamed. Jazz settled heavily, and before he could recover his own pedes more shots rung out. Prowl felt his own consciousness fade away as he contemplated how unlucky the number thirteen had turned out to be.