Prowl snarled and writhed in his captor's hold. The mech chuckled, "Such vitriol. I would never have imagined the Autobot's tactician to be reduced to this pathetic piece of scrap."

The tactician spat at his pedes. "Go to hell, fragger."

"Isn't that where we are?"

Prowl growled, a harsh, throaty sound that contrasted with the smooth, impersonal tone he normally used. "What have you come to do to me today then?"

"Finally getting down to the matter!" He sounded delighted. "I have to admit I had some trouble thinking what we should do together." Pausing to release his prey and let him hang in the tightly-strung chains for a moment. "Then I had an idea. If you won't bow to physical or mental pain I suppose interfacing might coerce you."

"You're sick!" Prowl yelled.

"I have no doubt," The mech conceded. "Who cares about morality in a time like this though?"

Prowl grit his denta, "Sane mechs. Not disgusting abominations like you!" He was backhanded viciously for his sharp comment.

The mech frowned at his plaything. "That wasn't very nice. I was going to give you some preparation since you've been so good lately, but you had to ruin everything. Do you want to be punished that badly Prowl?"

"Come a little closer and I'll tell you what I think," Prowl said with vitriol.

The mech grinned. "I think I will." He gripped his pet's face and forcibly kissed the tactician who didn't fight back. He frowned. That was odd…

A choked cough echoed throughout the room. Prowl's leg were wrapped around his captor's and a sharp piece of metal embedded in a vital energon line was gripped in his hand. "I think," Prowl whispered, "That you need to die now."

The mech hacked up a glob of energon and slowly slid of the makeshift shank, landing heavily on the floor. Prowl sighed and gracelessly shimmied out of the chains that previously held him immobile. "I do hope you're still alive," he called to the still mech. "It's always a pain to hack into a corpse. They just don't have the same feel about them."

The tactician knelt down by the fading mech and methodically took apart their ex-captor's helm to reveal their brain module. "Perfect," Prowl sighed in relief. He had to sit down to keep his wounds from re-opening, several cuts were already beginning to sluggishly drip energon again.

Dented fingers hovered over the vital component. A command was sent to the additions stored in his fingers and they on-lined with a smooth snick. The dying mech, too weak to do anything but watch, choked in horror when mnemosurgeon needles slid out neatly from the tips of his interrogator's fingers.

"Open up," Prowl said mockingly before plunging his cables into the brain module with a breathless sigh. There was nothing that could even begin to compare with the feeling of performing mnemosurgery.

Many hours later, Prowl returned to the Autobot base with wounds littering his form. He was greeted with concern and relief at his arrival, actually rendezvousing with the mobilising rescue team. The tactician smiled to himself during a moment of respite; Nobody would know this secret side of him.