The Prize, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

Notes: Prequel to Torment

Posted over on Livejournal under the username Agiftedmind.

I don't own anything mentioned in this fic. Feedback and comments are very much loved.

Beta: Zelroid and Tsuya

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The Prize

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Moving on the warpath after being busted out of his cell, he checked the weapon he was given, smirking with much amusement. He had a bolt to pick with a certain Decepticon tactician. The sound of explosions only heightened his hunt. Lifting the rifle, he shot a con in the face plates, watching the weakling drop without hardly a second glance. Behind him, he could hear an amused little cackle and then a scream. His brother was enjoying the battle too.

Coming towards the command center, the doors locked, he knew the tactician would be in there. Oh yes, and he wanted that tactician, badly.

"Rip tha' door down, now, but only shoot to stun," he said to the team of Autobots that had formed around him. Mirage, Hound, and Sunstreaker. Ricochet had darted off down some other hall, though Jazz didn't mind, since Ricochet would've never listened to such an order.

"Sir, the Bots are moving in fast.." One of the younger tacticians reported, and Prowl hissed, optics narrowing.

"We go down fighting." He said without hesitation, and the others nodded. They could hear someone trying to break the door down, and took aim.

"They will shoot to kill, so you shoot to kill first." Prowl ordered, acid pellet gun at the ready. The door fell soon enough, and there was a flicker as mech with a energon-lust look on the faceplates vanished from view. Mirage. Prowl hissed, directing two of the junior tacticians to help try and get a shot or three on the invisible mech. But it was hard, and he heard cries as mechs dove for cover to avoid being shot.

Only disarming shots were fired, shots to arms, legs, etc, nothing that was fatal, well unless one of the Decepticons got fatally shot as they moved for cover. The saboteur was more than glad to have Mirage, knowing that quick mech who could become invisible would make an excellent distraction. With Mirage causing trouble, the other mechs were able to concentrate their fire upon those Decepticons, taking them down one by one.

Prowl hissed as more of his tacticians fell, and ordered a regroup to his position. Some made it, others fell to the shots. He thought it odd they were not shooting to kill, but his CPU rationalized that they must want to smelt them down instead. His energon ran cold, but he never faulted in his shooting.

Jazz let a grin spread across his lip components as his visored optics fell upon his target of choice who was putting up more than a good fight. That made the chase even more entertaining. Lifting his rifle he shot at the other's hand to disarm him of his acid blaster, grinning wildly at the tactician who thought he would surely escape Jazz. Prowl hissed when his gun was shot out of his hand, and snapped up one of his comrades gun, whirling around and firing, not even reacting to the fact that it had been the mech he'd been guarding.

Ducking as several shots whizzed over his head, said mech grinned, moving forward and firing upon the other, but not aiming any vital parts. He wanted to have the other fairly intact. Perhaps the Autobots wanted a few for smelting, but the nicer ones would perhaps be divided up among his comrades for more personal purposes. The sort of purposes he had planned for that tactician that had been so uptight with him.

Prowl hissed in pain when a shot hit his arms, then hissed again in clear pain when another shot hit the edge of the doorwings. He whirled, ignoring Jazz in favor of going after a currently visible Mirage. His comrades, those few left standing, were now divided into getting Sunstreaker off one of their own, trying to keep track of where Mirage was, dodging shots from Hound, and keeping Jazz away from the Head Tactician.

A little curse left Jazz's lip plates as a shot grazed across his shoulder and he ducked behind a fallen section of the ceiling. Wanting the other made him rather brash, standing, he snapped off several shots, catching the con that had grazed his shoulder.

Soon, it was only Prowl and another mech left standing, and neither looked happy. Prowl looked like he was ready to tear the next mech who hit his doorwings to shreds. The other had been hit in the torso, but was still standing. Both were incredibly stubborn, and Prowl had somewhere along the lines reclaimed his acid gun, and was using that to fire shots at the Bots.

Hound was temporarily down, trying to repair damage, Jazz noted, as he watched Sunstreaker fire several shots into the other con that was besides that tactician that he so wanted. Moving quickly while the other's back was away from him, he practically pounced atop the other, his hand wrapping around the one that had the acid gun, trying to force it from the others grip as he knocked the other down.

"I will not let this go.." HE hissed, trying to force his hand up to get a good shot at Jazz, even from behind. He missed the other mech falling, but heard the unmistakable cries of pain, and he struggled harder, refusing to go down without one hell of a fight.

"Yes, fight fo' me, I like it when the prey struggles," lust dripped off his voice as he struggled with the other. With one hand on the wrist, his other hand moved, grabbing a doorwing and twisting it painfully as he smashed the others hand against the floor, trying to dislodge that gun. "We'll have such fun, soon, jus' you and me..."

A chuckle escaped Jazz's vocal processors at the shriek from Prowl. Quickly grabbing the relinquished gun, he brought it about, shoving the barrel roughly against the others helm, scuffing the paint.

"So, what was that you were saying earlier?" he mocked, hand still on the others doorwing, but he had let the door wing back down. There was some laughter around as the other Autobots watched, though they were working to get their picks as well.

"Nothing." It was humiliating to have his own gun pressed to his head in such away that he could literally feel the acid from it burning a little into his plating.

"Good, con, good," he said, rising off the other, but pulling that tactician up with him, keeping that gun trained against the others helm. Smiling at his prize catch obeyed the wordless order. This one would be fun to break. Very fun o break.

"Get these disgusting cons rounded up, I'd like to get back to Iacon, asap," he said to his comrades, who were clearly quite interested in finding which of the cons might please them best.

"Yes Sir." Mirage Purred from beside Hound, who once again had a grip on his wrist, a tenuous control over the Genesis mech.

"Want us to put that one in the transport cells as well?" Hound asked, gesturing to Prowl, unsure as it looked Jazz had claimed it already.

"Mmm, no, I think this one will stay with me, I don't think he'll give me too much trouble. . ." he mused, responding to Hound as he pulled out a length of metal cording from a compartment in his arm. Lowering the rifle, he quickly set about securing the others arms tightly, even quite uncomfortable, as if purposely wanting to frustrate the other. Giving a light purr as he secured the final note, he whispered against the others audio receptors, "Don't you just love how things change?"

Prowl said nothing as he was shoved forwards, stumbling a little. He had a feeling that his freedom was over, and he prayed to the stars that his status as Head Tactician was never discovered. It would be certain death for him. Death by painful, slow integration.

As the transport loomed, he looked around, noting with keen optics the way that Hound tugged Mirage after him, almost as if the mech wasn't in a stable mindset to be left on his own. Odd. But further observations where cut off as he was forced forwards faster, Jazz growling behind him.

As his pedes hit the metal, he vowed that he would get free, one way or the other. He would not die, would not break and he would find away to topple Prime, even from the inside of it came down to that.

This he swore on the red Decepticon insignia that he wore.

And he could only hope that he'd never waver in that vow.