Disclaimer: I do not own any transformers or anything of the like. I barely own my own car.
I apologize in advance for any grammar errors or mis-spelled words. I'm not an English major nor was I really any good at it in school.
Italics: thoughts
Please Enjoy!
His processor was slow to online. He gave a low moan as the pain came and washed over him like waves of burning, scorching agony. He onlined his optics to a dull aqua, made slightly brighter due to the pain, barley enough light to illuminate the dirty, grimy floor he laid face-down on. The smell of rotting, putrid energon was like a slap to the facial plates and made it hard to keep down the precious little untainted energon they gave him, which was barely enough to keep him fully online, let alone functioning at full level.
With what little remaining strength he had, he was able to flip himself onto his back without tearing open his most recent and poorly repaired wounds. Again.
The faint light coming from his dim optics barley reflects off the purple ceiling of the decepticon brig. Stupid purple ceiling. Why did the cons have to choose such a depressing color? Oh yeah, because they are a depressing lot. Stupid depressing cons!
Jazz has been a decepticon prisoner for the better part of two orns now and is getting real sick of all the leers and hateful comments that get sent his way on the rare occasions he is allowed out of this cage (mostly for interrogations, but sometimes just to show off Megatron's new toy). Though he was sick of the way the cons treated him, he would never show it. Jazz was always quick to shoot off a mouthy comment or two to his interrogators/ harassers/ molesters and maybe get a backhand or cuff to the back of the helm because of it. He'd always smile afterward though. Just to show he wasn't tamed.
Sure, the cons could threaten him, beat him, molest him then beat him again and it would be predictable and annoying and even painful, but he would never show it. He would never give up information (other than letting the cons know just how hideous the décor was). Nope, they could beat him all they want but Jazz would never break.
The door to the brig creaked open just like creepy brig doors are supposed to, and there was a sliver of light that hardly penetrated the darkness. Heavy steps sounded and came closer to his cell. Judging by the precise clipped steps, he knew exactly who was approaching him. One of his only regular visitors and the one that he perhaps dreaded the most, though he obviously wouldn't let him know it. It didn't matter though, as his thoughts seem to be enough evidence for the mech that was now standing in front of the bars to his cell. The light from the open door barely allowing Jazz an outline of the mechs' form but it didn't matter.
Jazz lifted himself up as much as he could with only a small wince, so he was leaning back on his elbows and gave a slag-eating grin (as much as his cracked lip plates would allow) and grated out of his vocalizer the same thing he always did when greeting the mech. "Soundwave my main mech! What's shakin' bacon?"
A. N. So what did you think? I hope it was okay at least. I'm not quite sure where I'm going to take this or what is really happening next. Just kind of writing it off the top of my head. Not the best plan I know. Also I'm sorry if any of the characters are well, out of character. I have only read Transformers Fanfiction but I've never written any. Feedback and ideas would be greatly loved and appreciated!