Bishop takes Knight

Waiting. Oh how he detested waiting, that infernal limbo between events. Much of his function depended on waiting for information to arrive or events to occur before he could move on to the next thing. If he knew what was going to happen then it didn't bother him as much. But this time he didn't. And what made it worse was that it was a friend that he was waiting for.

Prowl swept his optics over the row of screens. Nothing. Not a blip. He turned and pushed his way out through the silent crowd, sinking onto a couch at the back of the Common Room with his head in his hands, doorwings hanging. He couldn't take this unnatural situation anymore. Whenever there was a combat situation he was either kept appraised of it, he was in the middle of it, or both. But this was something completely out of his control. And to put it quite simply he really, really didn't like it. His job was to make sure that Autobots who got sent out would come home in one piece, and the uncertainty of this situation, coupled with his inability to act, was more than enough to get Prowl anxious.

After a moment or two of this morbid reflection he became aware that he wasn't alone in his little corner of the room. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had joined him, one twin on either side.

"Hey Prowl," Sideswipe whispered "Me and Sunny've been talking. You, me and him should be enough to help Jazz cap this slagger. All we need is your command codes to unlock the door."
"I'm sorry Sideswipe, but as much as I would like to help take Deck down we can't risk it." Prowl shook his head. "I have no clue what Jazz is doing. If we barge in there we may be endangering his life. Jazz has asked for us to trust him, to have faith in his abilities to handle this. I believe that this is something that he feels that he must deal with on his own."
"What do you mean?" Sunstreaker queried.
"I've said too much. It's not my place to say." Prowl replied.

None of the trio realised that across the room, Prime was having the self same thoughts.

"I've put one of my own in danger." Optimus growled at himself, furious that he had allowed himself to let Jazz walk out of the base without any backup. "It should be me out there, not him." Blue hands clenched into tight fists. "I should unlock that door and start doing my duty as a commander and take care of my own. But I can't. Jazz asked me to trust him. I have to, otherwise what use am I as a leader if I don't trust my own officers?"

0o0o0

The once near silent night erupted into fireballs and explosions.

Jazz dodged, leapt and rolled as fast as he could through Deck's elaborate web of tripwires and grenades. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID!" He berated himself, flinching aside as a burst of white hot shrapnel sprayed out of the ground beside him and only barely stifling a cry of pain as three of the razor sharp fragments embedded themselves in his right leg. He slid down a short slope and cast around for anything that would help.

There!

The ragged black slash of a cave loomed just ahead. Perfect. Jazz ran inside and then carefully backed out; making sure his feet went back in the footprints he'd left when he'd entered the cave. Then he jumped up and grabbed a rocky overhang over the cave, hauling himself up and over onto the top.

Jazz lay down and froze, his paint helping him to blend in with the surroundings as he powered down several of his systems to reduce his energy profile. A slow, measured thudding heralded Deck's approach, the mech walking with an easy stride and an obscenely large rifle casually resting on his shoulder. He saw the cave and the footprints and grinned.

"So, you want to play a little game of turbo cat and retro rat, eh?" Deck asked loudly. "Well, as I can obviously not fit inside that little, tiny crack, then I'll just have to make you come to me." He sat down and started tinkering with his rifle, optics sweeping across the terrain with a practiced ease. "I guess I make a pretty good target here, don't I Jazz?" he commented.

"Aw no, he didn't fall for it!" Jazz grit his dental plates in irritation. "Guess I'll just have t' pull somethin' new outta th' bag."

The Porsche flicked through his options. Unfortunately they weren't many. If he moved Deck would spot him instantly. He couldn't transform with the shrapnel in his leg, and he sure as heck wasn't going to try and pull it out. There was one option however, and its appeal grew with every passing minute.

Despite the explosions he'd somehow managed to maintain his grip on his rifle, the one loaded with the clip of Black Fang bullets. Deck didn't have many weak spots, but that didn't really matter with these. And luckily he'd had the foresight to lie down in approximately a prone shooting position. One little pull and this would all be over.