Homecoming
"Prowl, don't do this!" Ratchet pleaded, the medic trying to get a look at the mech behind him through his damaged optic as he limped along. Ironhide's strong arms kept ushering his bonded along with the usual prods of Decepticon rifles to their backs.
Prowl kept his voice silent and his optics downcast as he held the weakly thrashing Jazz in his arms. The undamaged black and white had been escorted to each of their cells by Barricade and informed the prisoners that they would be returning to Autobot territory immediately for recovery and medical evacuation.
He had also, in an almost casual tone, informed them that he would be staying behind as payment for his companion's freedom.
To say they were horrified was an understatement. They all protested loudly in the halls until they were silenced by brute force, which Prowl did not object to. Barricade loomed behind Prowl like a wicked puppet master controlling his innocent victim, and as the other Autobots all but begged Prowl not to do this, that he would be killed and worse, he simply kept restating that 'This is for the better, anyway.' Prowl explained that he had done nothing but cause suffering to the Autobots and that his skills as a tactician were miniscule and could quite easily be replaced. Barricade occasionally contributed to the tactician's refusal to return with them, telling the Autobots that this was where Prowl belonged anyway.
The only time during their long trek to the exit of the fortress that the Datsun had shown any emotional response was when the Saleen behind him didn't take a comment made by Jazz very well.
"Y-You si-ick bastard…"the Porsche wheezed from panic and depleted energy, "H-he don-n't want ya and ya kno-ow it! L-leave him alo-one!" The tiny grin that had played upon the Decepticon's lips all this time was immediately wiped away and a snarl taking its place. "Wretched little whore!" Barricade reached around Prowl to slap Jazz hard across his faceplates. Prowl whipped his head around to glare at his ex-bondmate with heated anger, so much so that Barricade actually stood down.
As they reached the light of the exit, the Autobots began squirming uncomfortably; both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked back at the Datsun regretfully, Skye's wings quivered to and fro, and Red Alert simply twitched.
Ratchet leaned heavily on Ironhide, resting his weight in the weapon specialist's arms. "This doesn't make sense…" Ratchet muttered quietly, drawing his bonded's attention, "They capture us all just to let us go?"
Ironhide's engine rumbled darkly as he mulled Ratchet's words over, 'not all'a us…' he thought but didn't dare to say. "That's a 'Con's mind for ya."
Next to them, Skye's arms tightened around Blaster's stereo form to the point where they could hear Blaster's armor cracking. With Ratchet's help, they had managed to transform the unresponsive mech to make it easier to transport him within Skye's cockpit.
Behind them, Soundwave had reappeared once more, only to silently stalk behind the group; red visor glowing ominously in the dark corridor that was slowly becoming brighter.
The exit yielded a steep slope to the desert below causing the injured Autobots to internally groan; all of their legs had been purposely cut to restrict movement, which would make this hard for them to trek. Jazz and Blaster were lucky to be carried.
The prodding encouragements of the purple-marked soldiers behind them forced their start. Of all the Autobots, Red Alert seemed to be having the hardest time; so much so that Bluestreak ceased his hovering over the defiant Smokescreen to assist the security mech. Ironhide, seeing how Ratchet was having trouble with standing, let alone walking, saw fit to sweep his bonded up into his arms.
Jazz continued to protest as they descended onto the flat, not giving up his attempts to escape Prowl's grip. "S-stop! Do-on't!" He cried desperately.
Desperate. They all were desperate for themselves and each other.
They all eventually reached the flat of the desert on shaky and hesitant legs; all looking at each other nervously.
The Decepticons watched from the rise as the wounded group of Autobots converged around Prowl and Jazz.
"P-Prowler, ple-ease, don' do this…" Jazz cried out brokenly, tears finally erupting at the realization that this was actually happening.
The Datsun smiled grimly, "I'm sorry, Jazz, I have to. You'll all die if you stay."
A sob wracked the saboteur, "B-but He'll k-kill ya if ya l-leave yourself with him…"
Prowl shuttered his optics halfway, looking around at the others, "My only concern is the safety of you and the others."
"Prowl, please, we-" Sideswipe started.
"I-I wanna s-stay with you!" Jazz broke out, interrupting the red twin.
It was a surprise to all of them when the Datsun let put a humorless laugh, smiling down at the broken saboteur. "You stupid 'bot, have you been listening to me at all? I would never ask that of you."
"Well, I ain't a-askin'!"
Prowl ignored his mate and turned to the other Autobots, "Transform, the lot of you." With glances at each other, they silently obeyed; turning themselves away from the Decepticon base and the two spark-broken mechs.
In a hushed whisper, Prowl continued, "I also can't ask you to forgive me, Jazz, for everything I've caused, but… you're more dear to me than my own life; I love you," The last part of that sentence was spoken softer than the rest."And that's why I have to let you go."
"No!" Jazz cried, his distress escalating with every passing moment.
Prowl's smile widened, but not through elation, "You were better off without me anyways. Just look what I got you into…some bonded I am…"
The Autobot's engines revved to life as Jazz tried to muffle a sob, "Prowl…" The Porsche's once beautiful, baritone voice was choked with unbridled emotion. Prowl memorized that lovely face, only wishing Jazz was sporting his lovely trademark smile and the tears and cracks in that usually bright visor were gone.
"Goodbye, Jazz." He leaned down and brought his mate up a little to place a kiss on the black helm. Skillfully, Prowl slithered his hand up to the wounded neck joint and slipped his fingers around a power line. Jazz realized what the tactician was doing and fought like he saw Unicron, "No! Don't!"
"I'll remember you…" With a swift tug, the line popped out of its port; Jazz froze before going completely limp.
Smokescreen spoke up from his vehicle mode, "Prowl, what are you-?"
"I've convinced Barricade to release you all; you're free to make it to the border of Autobot territory. Optimus has been contacted and will meet you there with help to get you back home." Prowl droned automatically, not looking up from Jazz's face.
"What about you?" Ironhide's voice actually was drenched with emotion- anguish more than anything.
Prowl's optics shuttered entirely, taking in a shaking breath, "I am home."
Sideswipe's engine revved in protest, "Prowl, no! You-!"
Prowl was apparently not very keen on the idea of letting anyone finish their sentences, for he interrupted yet again. "Ratchet, can you manage?" He asked the silent medic softly, holding out the knocked out saboteur.
"Yeah, sure," Ratchet opened his back door, allowing Jazz inside. "Y…You're serious about this?" Sacrifice was not unheard of in the Autobot army; every 'bot made sacrifices at one time or another, but Ratchet had never seen one like this- A Decepticon bartering away eleven prisoners to obtain one, not for information or value, but for a twisted idea of affection? Ratchet feared for Prowl, he didn't want to leave the mech in the hands of another so deranged and mad.
Prowl nodded, his classic stoic expression claiming his face, "I am. Please go, you all need repairs." Once Jazz was safely tucked inside Ratchet, Prowl reached for the door but paused for a moment to take one last look at his bonded with pained optics. Closing them, he shut the door and stepped back from the convoy.
"…Brother…" Bluestreak whined. If the young gunner had been in bipedal form, he would no doubt be shaking as yet another important person in his life left him.
Prowl mustered the tone of voice he used on the twins whenever they did something stupid, "That's an order." Whether he was choosing to stay or not did not make his rank any less powerful. Even if it was his last order.
It was enough for them to at least honor the command, or perhaps they treated it like a final request, regardless, the Autobots revved their engines and took off at a moderate speed so the wounded could keep up easily. Prowl watched them go, silently praying to Primus that they all made it back to the Ark safely…
Cycling a breath of air to calm his systems, he bid them a muttered farewell as footsteps sounded behind him. A black pair of arms slithered around his waist and a helm nuzzled at his neck, but Prowl did not respond, trying to force back the memories.
"There now, you got what you wanted," Prowl's hands tightened at that soft, deceptively gentle voice "Now for what I get in return…"
The Datsun only held up for a mere moment before he forcibly relaxed and put his own white hands over the claws; utterly surrendering.
He could feel Barricade grin against his neck cables, "That's better." Barricade left his throat to kiss the former tactician's cheek-plate, "Welcome home, dear one."
Barricade didn't notice the trickle on fluids down the opposite side of Prowl's face.
Optimus Prime stood at the border of Autobot territory scanning the horizon for dark silhouettes, around him, the other soldiers murmured quietly amongst themselves, not daring to make any loud noises. For what reason, he did not know.
Two hours ago, He had received a private communiqué from Soundwave. The Decepticon had not let him even speak, simply stating that Barricade was releasing the injured Autobots and that they would need assistance at the border to make it home. He also quickly stated that Prowl would not be among them as he was staying as payment. With that, the screen had gone blank, leaving the commander speechless. After he had fought back his shock and anger enough for his to regain control of his body functions he gathered a team and disembarked from their base.
Now he stood with barely bridled emotion which emanated from him, making the others stand away from him. Perceptor and Wheeljack were standing close to one another; probably trying to mask their conjoined hands, which wasn't going so well. Mirage stood with hands on Bumblebee's shoulders, both not speaking or moving. Hound and Trailbreaker were conversing quietly with grimaces and frowns, as were Beachcomber and Hoist. The Dinobots stood impatiently behind them all, waiting for the return of their co-creator; though their true purpose for being there was in case the Decepticons decided to try something…
Although, with his current anger, Optimus would have been more than willing to rip apart one of those purple-marked heathens, for all they had done to his soldiers; the trauma, the pain and humiliation…
Oh! How he wanted to punch something with all his strength! To be rid of all this tense anger and the overwhelming feeling of uselessness! He should have done something sooner; attacked the opposing base and retrieve the imprisoned mechs, bring them back to where they would be safe away from that maniac Barricade! Instead, he had let his friends walk into a living Hell, where only Primus knows what was happening to them; death? Torture?
Optimus suppressed a shudder as visions of blood and gore danced across his mind; not noticing a shout behind him. In fact, he didn't snap out of his thoughts until Hound laid a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jolt and reach for his rifle.
"Uh, you ok, sir?" Hound looked at him with concern.
Optimus cycled a breath of cool morning air and nodded slowly, "Yes, yes…" Letting his tense grip ease slightly, he looked over the equally discomforted green scout.
Hound removed his hand and pointed to the far distance, "Perce just spotted ten bots, coming in slow at ten o'clock."
The commander stiffened involuntarily even though he had been anticipating this since they arrived at the border.
They all watched in silence as the dark blots on the horizon became more idiosyncratic, revealing the lost and missing Autobots, some damaged, others not.
The convoy slowed down from its already slow speed to a complete stop before their comrades, having no more strength to move. Ratchet and Skye relieved themselves of their charges before shifting back into their bipedal forms, as the rest had already done, and they were immediately swarmed by their teammates and helped to the ground.
Wheeljack and Perceptor fussed over Ratchet and Ironhide, mostly trying to repair the medic so he would be able to assist them with the others. Optimus watched as the medic and weapons specialist threw a glare at Wheeljack for some strange reason once Perceptor had rushed to his 'parents'; he also saw Grimlock and the other Dinobots simply standing where they were before, only now more relaxed and at ease. Mirage and Bumblebee raced to Jazz's side, horrified at their commander's state and babbling reassurances to the barely conscious mech. Blaster's cassettes, who had been left behind in the Ark that fateful day the stereo had left on his break, rushed to Skye; despairing as they saw the condition of their creator. Hound assisted Red Alert in carrying the limping Inferno to them while Ratchet had plenty of help making his way to the others. Smokescreen managed to move on his own, though that didn't stop Bluestreak from walking by him to make sure. Since Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were bickering about nothing in particular, everyone assumed they were fine without actually hearing what they were arguing about.
A lone pair of optics looked over the returned Autobots with a mix of bittersweet joy and anguish as they noticed that not all who left had returned.
Optimus regarded his tortured soldiers sadly before closing his optics and looking away as it became all too painful for him. "Autobots, get the wounded situated; prepare to roll for home…"
He turned away from the sight, only to be halted by a weak call of his designation. He turned to see Jazz, struggling past Mirage and Bumblebee. "Y-ya can't…l-leave 'im …"
Optimus watched as the damaged mech struggled to stand on his own, quite literally on his last legs. An ache of parental apprehension pulsed through his spark at the sight of his adopted youngling's blood dripping from his once pristine frame. He saved Jazz effort and hurried to his side, taking hold of the Porsche by his arms. "I'm sorry Jazz, we have no choice." He said as softly as possible.
Jazz snapped his head up, blood dribbling down his neck, "Liar!" His raspy voice even raspier from the abuse he'd suffered. Even with the visor over his optics, Optimus could still feel the glare the saboteur was leveling at him, and he could not say that he didn't deserve it…
"Jazz, you and the others are badly wounded, you need repairs." He attempted to reason, but it utterly failed.
Jazz clenched his dentals, "A-an… what'a 'bout y-you? Why wo-on't you help 'im?" Mirage and Bumblebee struggled to keep an even grip on Jazz as he, in turn, struggled against them, trying to get at Optimus.
"Jazz, please, we'll come back for Prowl but everyone needs to be repaired or they'll die!" Bumblebee pleaded. Mirage joined in as he adjusted his grip, "But you are delaying that, Jazz. And if we don't go soon, Ratchet and Blaster may die, as will you…Then who will rescue Prowl?"
Jazz stopped his struggles, and for a moment he was still. But as Optimus attempted to speak, the saboteur began to shudder violently.
Jazz became dead weight, though still online, and almost dropped to the ground, if the three bots hadn't been holding him; the shudders grew more violent until it seemed the mech would simply shake himself apart.
"Wheeljack!" Optimus cried as he lowered Jazz to the ground and lay him on his mostly unharmed back, though both Wheeljack and Perceptor were already running towards them.
The Lancia dropped next to the convulsing mech and helped Optimus hold Jazz down while Perceptor pinpointed the cause of the Porsche's distress. After a quick scan, the scientist forced Jazz's chest plates to open to reveal his spark; which was convulsing and almost stretching this way and that like something inside it was trying to escape.
Perceptor and Wheeljack stared in horror, Optimus shouted to the others to roll out, on the double.
-Meanwhile-
Megatron was not happy. And usually whenever he was unhappy, Starscream was in pain. But not this time. This time; Barricade lay crumpled and bleeding beneath his feet.
The warlord had ruthlessly beaten the Saleen for more than three hours while the rest of the Decepticons had looked on silently out of fear of being harmed themselves. Prowl was watching on as well, being held by Thundercracker and Skywarp in grips loosened by awe; optics half-shuttered and uninterested, but he watched and suppressed a smirk. 'Nothing short than what he deserves.' He couldn't help but think bitterly.
"You stupid, little ingrate! Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out about your little get-together?" Megatron growled as he delivered a particularly vicious kick to the Saleen's abdomen. "What do you have to say?"
Barricade coughed up a bit of blood before looking up at his leader, "I was just reclaiming what was mine by any means necessary, my lord."
Megatron snarled and grabbed the black mech by his neck cabling and hauled him upward until they were face to face, "And what makes you think I'll allow you to keep him?" He gestured for Prowl, who was brought roughly forth by the two seekers, "By capturing the Autobot's third, you've guaranteed their return for his rescue!"
"Scared of a few Autobots, Megatron?" Starscream mocked from his perch in the rafters with the cassetticons and the coneheads.
The warlord, however, was not in the mood to deal with disobedience at the moment. With a glare that could kill, Megatron hoisted his cannon and shot his Air Commander square in the chest, much to Prowl's surprise, before turning back to Barricade. Starscream screeched and squawked as he flailed on the floor, but the rest of the Decepticons ignored him.
The Saleen calmly began speaking again, "He is the offense tactician, my lord, imagine what plans he has stored in his memory banks! He could very well be our key to victory!"
Megatron did not respond and appeared to be mulling it over. Prowl quickly interjected, "I will never betray the Autobots! There's nothing you can do to make me talk!"
Barricade leered at the Datsun, "Or so you think, my dear." Prowl did not like the way he said that, nor how long Megatron had been silently thinking.
After a moment, the warlord narrowed his optics, tilting his head to the side while keeping his vision locked on the restrained Autobot, "Soundwave!"
The blue stereo didn't have to be a telepath to know what his master wanted. "Autobot Prowl: contains vital information. Advisement: detain and extract valuable knowledge."
Megatron snorted and reached over to grab Prowl by the chin and brought both he and Barricade closer to him. "Well, Barricade it seems like your little escapade has both cost and benefited us."
He glanced over to the monitor, where Laserbeak had a firm visual on the retreating Autobots.
"You had better hope they balance out."
Dragged by the cables on his neck, Prowl remained still as Barricade took him to the darkest depths of the Nemesis. It didn't surprise him that the Saleen's chambers were near the torture cells, and as they approached, Prowl couldn't help but be reminded that he had once fallen in love with this mech, and now he was to be taken by force by the same mech. They arrived at an unmarked door and Barricade's claws flew over the entry pad, a chime sounded as the pass code was accepted and the door swished open to reveal black nothingness.
Prowl shuttered his optics as he was pulled inside; no going back, no stopping what was to inevitably come.
Suddenly, he was slammed onto an unpadded berth without much consideration, his helm snapping backwards with a grunt and causing a short burst of chaotic static to roll around his processors. No sooner had Prowl recovered when his neck cables were viciously assaulted by cruel fangs and a slick glossa. He couldn't help but cry out, but was silenced by a hand clamping over his mouth. Prowl's hands were held by the wrist above his head; it was no surprise, Barricade never required much of a response when interfacing, he simply liked taking all he could.
His spark immediately recognized the painful touches and the evil spark so close to his own, and, out of instinct, called to its true mate. He instantly felt pain across the broken link that barely connected him to Jazz. Panic set in at first about the Porsche's welfare, but with grief, Prowl closed the bond and hoped Jazz was too out of it to have felt their brief connection. Barricade's claws were tightening as his slick, ruby-red glossa teased the wires that he was feasting on in Prowl's neck. Out of nowhere, Barricade flipped him onto his front and re-straddled him, this time taking Prowl's wrists into one hand each. With no hesitation, the Saleen delved back into the wiring, this time it was the sensitive wiring in the joints of his quivering doorwings.
"You're so beautiful, my dear one, as elegant as one of Primus' angels…"
The vibrations from Barricade's smooth voice against his doorwing caused Prowl to moan; it reminded too much of when Jazz would use his sonic-pulse generators in his hands to relax the tense muscular cables in his doors after a long, tiring day. Oh, Jazz…
Barricade reared back for a moment, but Prowl didn't turn to find out why. "An angel…" The Saleen mused to himself with that same smile that made his spark flutter all those vorns ago… It was the same one that had made Prowl fall in love with him back on Cybertron before the war, before J-
An energy knife stabbed centimeters away from his face caused him to literally jump out of his revelry. He looked back and up to the Decepticon's now sadistically pleasured faceplates.
"Cut it off."
To say Prowl was confused was an understatement, his already muddled processor couldn't comprehend what Barricade was saying. "W-what?"
Barricade was staring at him with child-like fascination, "Cut. It. Off." His gaze switching between Prowl's face, the glowing knife, and finally resting on one of the door wings levitating off the berth. Prowl's spark sank in hist chest. Paralyzed, he simply stared at the other in the silence of the dark chamber for a few moments longer before the Saleen growled, grabbing the blade and forcing it into Prowl's hand. Barricade leaned down to hiss close to the Datsun's faceplates, "Have you forgotten your promise so quickly, dearest? You swore yourself to me!"
Prowl grimaced, Jazz would probably already be back at the Ark, in Wheeljack's care in the medbay, but if Barricade had gotten him twice now, Prowl didn't want to risk Jazz's wellbeing.
Well, any more than he already had…
Taking a shaky breath, he clasped the blade and forced his logic circuits and his self-preservation protocols to silence before lowering one of his doors so he could grab it. Prowl shuttered his optics, bending his arm around his back to take the first cut in the sensitive joint. Immediately, raw, unbridled pain shot up his back and into his processor; Prowl had to fight the urge to scream and drop the accursed knife. He felt Barricade's hand guide his back to the joint, obviously one cut was not going to sate him, despite the incredible pain Prowl was in.
Without thinking, he plunged the knife into his wing again and sliced through nerve cables and energon lines. Prowl kept slashing and eventually started to cry out with each cut, the pain becoming unbearable. His blood ran down his back, running off and pooling underneath him, and staining Barricade's armor.
When he couldn't bend his arm back any further, he had to reach behind his head to cut downwards now. Trying to ignore the pain and be done with this hellish torture as fast as possible, he didn't hesitate in stabbing into the joint again and again and again, until.
Clunk!
The energon blade stopped mid-slash, causing him to look back, but in the dark it was too hard to see; even with the pinkish glow of fresh energon. Prowl's hand released the doorwing and he tried to move it; instead of the normally elegantly unconscious control of the appendage, the door flopped around haphazardly, with only the main support holding it up.
If Prowl had consumed any energon earlier, he would have surely purged it at the sight.
Barricade must have wanted to examine Prowl's handiwork, as he seized the injured wing and turned it this way and that, eliciting sharp cries of pain from the Datsun. "Bastard!" Prowl shrieked at one point, though Barricade widely ignored it.
Holding the top of the wing with one hand and running the other one along the blood-covered joint, Barricade gave a hum of approval, before swiftly pulling the wing back and upwards.
Prowl screamed until his vocalizer felt like it would short out; it was probably only a few seconds , but I felt like hours before the weakened metal gave way to Barricade's superior strength. The Saleen tore his doorwing right off the main joint and carelessly threw it across the chamber.
Barricade wasted no time, like a wild animal he pounced on his injured prey.
He flipped Prowl onto his back, not even remembering the wound he had so recently inflicted. Prowl gasped as he was pulled into a rough and messy kiss, Barricade's glossa forcing its way into his mouth. He felt one of Barricade's hands reach up and take a hold of his chevron, bending and twisting it wickedly. Prowl, overwhelmed with pain and adrenaline, could think straight; couldn't remember the promises he made, only knowing that he wanted this to stop!
Prowl fought back as hard as he could, but Barricade's body pinned him to the berth. His hands free, he reached up to claw at the hovering doorwings of the Saleen. Revenge! Revenge for his torture and pain!
He clasped one by the handle and pulled it as hard as his arms would allow. Prowl had forgotten, though, that Barricade thrived on pain, being a Decepticon and all…
Barricade moaned into their kiss, excited to interface with his beloved mate again. His claws drifted lower to the edge of Prowl's pelvic region, causing a hiccupping gasp to emanate from the Datsun's vocalize, along with several muffled curses.
'So much for slow and sweet…' He thought bitterly. Back on Cybertron, Barricade had always made an effort to drag out interfacing sessions with Prowl; extending their foreplay by hours just to keep close to his bonded, something that endeared the Datsun before he knew better. Now it seemed like all Barricade wanted was to claim.
The Saleen cupped and squeezed Prowl's codpiece, reaching to tweak wires in the seams of his thigh armor. The pinned mech couldn't help but squirm a little with pleasure, despite the still raw and throbbing pain on his back.
Barricade finally released his mouth, trailing down to lick at his chest plates, just over his sensitive spark-casing. Prowl reached to push at Barricade's shoulders, but the pleasure dimmed it to his hands simply settling on the black metal.
"Uhn! …s-stop…" he managed to get out, turning his head to the side, optics clenched shut. Barricade continued to caress his codpiece almost lovingly, his violent, destructive rampage quelled for the moment as he lapsed back into his caring bonded mode. Prowl couldn't help but moan, whether it was from the pain on his back or the pleasure of his front, he couldn't tell.
Prowl's spark skipped a pulse and his optical shutters flew open upon hearing the click of his codpiece coming off; his CPU flew into a panic upon hearing another, similar clicking sound.
As Barricade reared up to uncoil his interfacing cable, Prowl was desperately trying to shove the Decepticon off of him, despite already knowing it was futile. His own cable was grabbed and plugged into Barricade's port, and the Datsun gasped at the tugging feeling from the connection. His optics were wide and his frame frozen in place, processors running at miles a minute.
'No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! N-'
Ramming his cable into Prowl's data port, Barricade wasted no time; sending wave after wave of useless information and aggressive energy surges. The Datsun screamed at the agonizing sensation. His CPU was trying too hard to analyze and sort the data and his systems could not handle the strain of a one-sided interface, as he would never reciprocate such a disgusting act. Another powerful wave made him arch his back, causing his still-bleeding wound to send a burning pain up his spine and into his helm.
Prowl's spark was in utter turmoil; torn between relaying his distress across what was left of his bond with Jazz and protecting the hopefully still unconscious mech from knowing what was being done to him.
Above him, Barricade groaned and writhed in complete ecstasy. Reaching downwards, the Saleen clasped his chevron again; twisting and pulling again and again until Prowl's helm felt like it were being pulled off. With a snap, Prowl's helm bounced back and hit the berth rather harshly. Looking up at his attacker, he wasn't surprised to see a large portion of his chevron in the Barricade's claws.
Barricade beheld the adornment for a few seconds before tossing it behind him to allow it to join the doorwing already lying somewhere on the floor of the chamber.
Numbers and data flashed before his optics, the rippling pleasure stemming from his port turned him into a moaning, whining mess. Arching his back, his doorwing joint erupted into pain that burned down his spinal structure, which leaked into his connection with Barricade. The Saleen moaned and swooped down for another rough kiss; glossa invading Prowl's mouth.
Prowl felt like a doll, he could feel all that was happening to him, but was so helpless to stop it. Barricade kissed him and he barely put up a resistance. Clawed hands gently rubbed at his chest plates like they did so many vorns ago on Cybertron; attempting to coax open the plating.
Prowl's optics shot open. 'No. No. No slagging way I'm letting this pit-spawn bond with me!' He clamped his chest plates shut as best he could, but with his strength depleted, he didn't know how long he would last. But if there was one this Prowl would never do was let this monster take away what little of his life he had regained after leaving Barricade. He refused to let Jazz go.
Barricade had other ideas; persistent in his physical coaxing of Prowl's chassis and his still ongoing barrage of the Datsun's interface. One way or another, he would get Prowl to yield and reclaim what was his before that damned Porsche interfered.
Prowl groaned and pushed himself out of the kiss, "G-get off me, fragger."
Barricade chuckled and forced another wave of data through their shared connection. He nibbled at Prowl's audio, "Why would I want to do that, beloved? I just got you back, now I want to have you again. This time," a low growl erupted from within his chest, "Without any annoying interruptions."
The doorwing that had been left intact was then tortured by teasingly light touches that Prowl hadn't thought were possible from such malicious claws. He lurched upward, "Uhn!"
Tips of sharp claws managed to invade the seam of Prowl's chest with this distraction; delving deeper and deeper and soon the hand on his doorwing joined it's brother in attempting to pry the plating open.
Prowl's hands were in a fury, trying to get the hands out of him, but his panic was overwhelming his strength. "No! Stop!"
Barricade gave another sharp tug at Prowl's chestplates and split his own open, revealing a dark purple orb of light, it's casing already removed and at the ready.
"No! Don't!" He screamed in terror, but it was too late; his chest plates were forced open and Barricade's spark pushed into his own.
Pain. Utter, complete pain tore at his spark and bled into his every limb after the initial shock left him. The forced connection intensified and Prowl could do nothing but scream and thrash at the mech above him as his bond with Jazz was ripped out of his spark and replaced. He so desperately wanted to deny Barricade access to his spark, to cling to his and Jazz's connection, but his damned Autobot honor would not allow it, that and the fact that he could barely react, much less fight back.
So Prowl opened his spark and allowed this demented mech to replace his mate's presence inside of him. The pain stopped as the mutual connection was forged, but it caused Prowl pain none the less; his bond with Jazz disappeared entirely, like snow in a fire.
"I don't give a frag about your project, Grapple; get your aft in here, now!"
All that time around Ratchet had finally taken effect, as Wheeljack now commanded the medbay like it was his. Hoist, already there, was desperately trying to stabilize Blaster (the mech already had been transformed back into his bipedal form). Perceptor, having minimal medical skills, was frantically running about; mending this, reconnecting that, helping Hoist and Wheeljack by doing the small repairs he was able to so that they could focus on the more severe ones.
Ratchet was croaking orders and suggestions from his place on a med-berth; Ironhide doing his best to follow the ones directed at him in repairing his bonded's injuries. Inferno, Sideswipe, and Smokescreen were waiting quietly on berths of their own with their companions; Red Alert, an unusually quiet Sunstreaker, and a pacing Bluestreak who was making Red Alert mutter to himself.
Mirage and Bumblebee had struggled to get the convulsing Jazz onto a berth, so much so that Brawn had to come help them.
"If the slagger won't hold still, strap him down!" Ratchet rasped, grunting as Ironhide moved a solder too close to a nerve line, the larger red mech mumbling an apology before resuming his work.
Mirage and Bumblebee looked at each other uneasily, hesitating too long for Brawn tastes as he quickly and quite easily kept Jazz down while securing the medical restraints over his already damaged limbs. The minibot internally winced at the sight of his superior's stump of a hand, 'that had to hurt…'
Wheeljack hustled over to the convulsing mech, attaching life-supports, energon lines, and a sedative formula into the barely conscious Jazz, struggling to attach each one. The Lancia tried to keep his fuel down as he analyzed the extent of Jazz's damages; the gashes, the cuts, the burnt-out wiring, even the busted visor. Digits twitching in anticipation, he took a deep cycle of air and allowed his hands to delve inside the wound that ran across his mid-section, melding broken fuel lines to stop the excessive bleeding. Perceptor hurried to his side and removed a few pieces of destroyed armor from Wheeljack's path before running to deposit them in a scrap-metal bin.
Grapple, finally arriving, gasped as his optics laid on the destruction of his comrades. Sunstreaker gave a growl of annoyance as the gold mech hesitated out of sheer shock, which promptly snapped the builder out of it. As Perceptor attended to Sideswipe, The gold mech picked up a few tools and knelt next to Inferno's berth.
Skyraider had dropped Blaster off into the care of the medics before shooing out anyone who didn't need help, especially a protesting Optimus Prime, whom she shooed back to the command room to bargain with Megatron for Prowl's safe return. But knowing how close the crew was, there was bound to be a crowd lurking outside the Medbay doors, waiting for news.
Jazz's spark never ceased stretching this way and that, and even began glowing and dimming erratically like it was about to snuff out; though the life support would keep all his systems functioning, it wouldn't be able to keep the spark from extinguishing. Wheeljack was desperately trying to stabilize the dying mech's body, his hands seemingly flying here and there, obeying the rasped orders of Ratchet.
Blaster was in no better condition, in fact, he was probably worse off than any other; something had gone horribly wrong. Between the wounds and his rapid loss of life, the Stereo had slipped into a stasis lock and was quickly, and permanently, shutting down. Hoist was doing everything he could to keep Blaster alive, but the damage was so extensive, it seemed like a lost cause.
Wheeljack now knew how Ratchet felt with the lives of his friends in his hands- the pressure almost drowning him. A quick glance at the wounded medic caused him to shudder involuntarily; Ratchet was in no condition to stand, let alone perform life-saving surgeries, the Lancia had to do this on his own.
Lives slowly slipping away in the hands of an inventor, a scientist, a builder, and a maintenance keeper.
Of the six officers of Prime's personal army, only two were truly unharmed, three others were lying on medical berths; bleeding to death, and one had traded himself away to an unstable Decepticon to save them.
If they could be saved.
Wheeljack forced away any and all thoughts that didn't involve healing and repairing. Once all the energon lines in Jazz's middle were mended, he moved up to his chest to try and do a little work there, hoping it would ease the raging spark within.
Time moved fast as well as slow, perhaps being the adrenaline rushes that surged through him at random intervals. Grapple and Perceptor managed to patch up Inferno, Smokescreen, and Sideswipe enough that their lives weren't in danger, but didn't allow them to leave, although they forced their bedside companions to go back to their normal shifts and strictly told them to say nothing to the rest of the troops until everyone's status was permanent; for the better or worse.
Jazz's chest thrusted itself upward as the mech let out a scream that quickly overpowered his vocalizer and shorted it out. The sudden lurch also knocked the focused Wheeljack back onto his aft and caused all optics to look over at him as his spark visibly expanded significantly as if detonating, and glowing like a miniature sun. Jazz's scream became silent and his spark flared once before-
Nothing. Jazz dropped back onto the berth, unconscious, but alive. His spark flickered a few times before resuming its normalcy.
For a moment, the medbay was utterly silent. Wheeljack got back onto his feet, looking from the now peaceful mech in front of him to Ratchet, who had tried to get up to assist Jazz only to be frozen in pace when his fit had stopped.
The medic and the inventor locked optics for a moment, and the Lancia's spark sank in realization.
Whatever had been happening to Prowl's spark was done.
Prowl lay on the berth, still lying in the pool of his blood; exhausted, spent, and numb to any emotional reactions.
Barricade lay next to him, his engines purring and his still-slick claws trailing up and down his sides. Prowl's only feeling was satisfaction, of course not out of their previous coupling, but of the fact that he had successfully kept Barricade away from any Autobot information he had. At least his comrades were safe.
"Well done, my dearest. I knew you would come back to me, that Porsche could never do anything for you anyway…"
Prowl felt a surge of anger course through him before it dissipated in his tiredness, "He's more than you think of him, Barricade."
"Hm."Barricade hummed, his claws running lazy circles on the stained chassis, "Lord Megatron will be quite furious with me if I fail to find some use of you for him." He reached up to take hold of Prowl's chin and forced him to look into his optics, which almost looked like they were pleading.
"Please make this easy for both of us, love, tell me what you know and Lord Megatron will not have to hurt you."
Prowl stared at him, unbelieving. The audacity of this mech! Not even thinking of consequences, he spat at Barricade's faceplates. The Saleen winced for a moment before looking back down at Prowl with a disappointed look.
"Very well," he sighed, hauling Prowl to his feet, he pushed and dragged him to the door, "I will just have to enlist the help of my friends."
