Okay, hopefully this chapter will make up for the brevity of the last one. It is the second longest chapter in this story, so far. And I must apologize, sleep deprivation has struck again and the only reason this one is out so quickly is because I actually had half of it written before I posted the last chapter. So... yeah. I cannot guarantee the next one will be so timely (though I will try, I promise.)
Congratulations to Sunstarunicorn for correctly guessing who the traitor is going to be… even if it was done jokingly. Kudos!
Warning: As the name of this chapter might suggest, there are some rough moments to come that some readers might find difficult to read (yes, even compared to what has already happened). It is not gratuitous in my reasoning, just enough to get the point across…
Prowl was walking back to his quarters with Bluestreak from the wash racks early the next orn when he received an internal communications ping. The source signal caught him by surprise, as it was from the last mech he would have anticipated initiating contact with him. Controlling his reaction, Prowl accepted the incoming signal.
/Smokescreen to Prowl./ His apprentice's digital voice was carefully devoid of inflection, almost cold.
/Prowl here./ He responded, pausing his walk and answering Bluestreak's puzzled look with a finger to the side of his helm and a soft. "Comm."
Bluestreak nodded his understanding and instantly went to studying something located on the wall near his optic level that was apparently fascinating.
Seeing that Bluestreak was momentarily content, Prowl was able to focus on Smokescreen's next statement. Or rather clipped command. /Report to briefing room fifteen alpha. Now/
Prowl stiffened slightly at hearing his former subordinate address him in such a manner. Then he reminded himself that, here and now, Smokescreen had every right to speak to him however he wished. /Yes sir./
He paused, glancing at Bluestreak. /Permission to take Bluestreak by Chromia's quarters first?/
It was particularly humiliating to have to ask for such permission but his status allowed him no choice, even in such fundamental tasks. Prowl's doorwings dipped even though there was no one there to see it.
Smokescreen hesitated an astrosecond, sounding put out. /Yes. You have five breems. Don't be late./
The last, tacked on command was completely unnecessary, especially for Prowl and the tactician knew Smokescreen was aware of that fact. It was intentional. But the signal cut off abruptly enough it would be considered rude. Not that Prowl was particularly surprised by that, not after the way the conversation had gone to that point.
/Understood, sir./ Prowl transmitted weakly to the dead line. Then he released a vent and looked at Bluestreak. /Prowl to Chromia./
/Chromia here./ Was her instant reply. /What is it?/
/I have just been asked to report for a mission briefing. I need to drop Bluestreak off/ Prowl gently reclaimed Bluestreak's attention and pointed down the corridor.
Bluestreak fell into step with him even as Chromia replied, not sounding at all surprised. /Of course. I am ready./
/Thank you. We are almost there./
True to his word, they arrived at her door within a breem. Bluestreak looked up at him. "You're dropping me off with Chromia? I thought you had today off. You said you would take me to the training room and then we were going to get energon."
Prowl nodded, kneeling and ducking his doorwings apologetically. "I too believed I would be 'off' today. However, the message I received was an order to report for a mission."
Bluestreak hesitated, then looked up at him with wide blue optics. "How long will you be gone this time?"
"I do not know." Prowl answered honestly, regret stabbing into his spark. He knelt to put him on the same level as the distressed youngling. "Bluestreak… I am sorry. My preference would be to stay with you. But I do not have that option."
Bluestreak gave him a tiny, sad smile and lifted a small hand to touch Prowl's cheek plating. "I know. You have to do what you have to do. Just… please be careful. You were gone so long last time and… I was scared."
Prowl hesitated and then lifted his hand to touch the one Bluestreak still kept against his cheek. "You are brave, Bluestreak. I do not mean to cause such sparkache for you. Know that I will always do my best to return for you. If, for some reason I can not or am delayed for a long period, Chromia will watch out for you in my stead."
"He's right, Bluestreak." Chromia said from just inside her quarters. "On all counts. You will never have to be alone."
Bluestreak glanced over at her and then looked back at Prowl. "I… just promise you will be careful…please."
"I will be as careful as I am able." Prowl answered softly, honestly, unable to promise more; unable to promise he would always be careful because such a vow could easily interfere with his duty and his previous commitment to the Autobots.
Bluestreak nodded even as Chromia stepped forward and gently rested a hand on his shoulder, urging him to follow. "Do not doubt Prowl's dedication to you, Bluestreak. But we must let him fulfill the duties he has been given."
Bluestreak nodded, reluctantly stepping away. "I will be waiting, Prowl."
Prowl allowed his engine to purr soothingly as he briefly reached out and ran the back of his finger over a trembling little doorwing. "And I will be doing everything I can to return in as timely a fashion as I can."
Then, before he lost the strength to do so, Prowl stood. He nodded to Chromia. "Thank you."
She returned the gesture and then ushered Bluestreak inside her quarters. Bluestreak went, but he glanced back, worried blue optics meeting tense amber ones before the door hissed shut.
Prowl took in and released a system full of air and then resolutely turned toward the lifts and toward whatever fate awaited him under Smokescreen's jurisdiction. It was not the most comfortable position he had found himself in lately. Even so, he recognized that if they chose to utilize his tactical abilities, it was a situation he would likely find a permanent arrangement.
As uncomfortable as that might be, us demeaning as it would doubtlessly feel to answer to his former subordinate, Prowl resigned himself to it. He had given his word offering his abilities and skills and, just as he had reminded the Prime; his personal dignity and comfort were not stipulated in that promise. And, he realized, he owed Smokescreen that much at least: to accept the younger mech's command without complaint. Just as leaving Bluestreak had made his spark ache, he knew that he wanted to restore what he could of his relationship with Smokescreen as well. Considering the level of antipathy Smokescreen now held for him however, Prowl doubted that was a goal that would ever be achieved. But he would not make the situation harder on his former apprentice than it had to be.
He stepped into the assigned briefing room exactly two breems before the deadline he had been given was up. He hesitated briefly, glancing at the other mechs… other mechs and the femme… waiting for him.
"About time." A typical, scouting-build mech with a paint scheme similar, but not identical, to his own muttered. Prowl did not know the mech's name, though he did recall the mech's faceplate from around the base and even from one of the rescue teams that had gone into Praxus.
Next to him was the light green femme who was leaning back in her chair, one hand resting lightly on the table as she turned her light blue gaze to examine him. He knew her designation to be Moonracer, but only because there were so few femmes on the base – and in Autbot ranks in general. She was a sniper by trade.
Other than those two, Springer, Hound, Ironhide and Smokescreen were also there. Ironhide alone was not sitting at the table but was standing against one wall, arms crossed as if he were there simply to observe, perhaps act as security if necessary. The fact that Smokescreen directed him to the chair directly in front of Ironhide's looming frame only confirmed that suspicion.
Springer watched Prowl silently as the Praxian crossed the room. The scout did not look overly pleased, but at least he did not appear openly belligerent either. Hound briefly caught his optics and nodded ever so slightly. Prowl returned the gesture politely as he settled into his assigned seat. Then looked expectantly as Smokescreen.
From the borderline hostile and openly wary looks he was receiving, Prowl expected to be magnetized to the chair. Thankfully, that did not happen.
Without even bothering to introduce him to the two new Autobots, Smokescreen spoke, regarding him critically. "Ratchet said you can still make your optics red if needed."
Prowl nodded slowly. "Yes, I can."
"Good." Smokescreen tapped a finger on the table surface and then activated the controls for the system's holographic display. Wavering slightly before stabilizing, a holographic map appeared, floating in the air over the table. It rotated slowly, allowing everyone to see it from all perspectives. "This is the situation. We have been working to evaluate all of the sites your analysis suggested as possible 'Con safe houses. This is the only one we have not confirmed. Our spies simply have not been able to get close enough. That is where you come in, Prowl."
Prowl frowned, taking in that statement and what it likely implied considering Smokescreen's initial question. "You wish for me to impersonate a Decepticon."
Springer gave him a hard look. "Shouldn't be that hard. You've had enough practice."
Hound and Ironhide shot Springer equally hard looks, and Smokescreen looked annoyed. Moonracer and the still unknown black and white mech seemed to be in tacit agreement with him however. Prowl felt his doorwings flinch slightly, but he did not respond, keeping his reaction carefully hidden.
"Yes." Smokescreen responded to Prowl's question after a long moment and then proceeded to lay out his plan, the general gist of which was for Prowl to make his way into the Decepticon base posing as an undercover agent forced to retreat from Iacon with vital intelligence, and then use that access to get the information they needed.
It appeared to be well thought out, but there was something about the whole situation that was bothering Prowl and he simply could not push that feeling aside. He tasked a portion of his tactical computer to the task of figuring it out.
He pulled his gaze off of the hologram and fixed it on his former apprentice. "And if they do not fall for it and I am attacked or captured?"
Smokescreen's expression was sharp as diamond and he responded without noticeable hesitation. "Thankfully you don't know enough about our operations to be a real threat to our security. But that is why Moonracer is going on this mission. She is one of the best snipers we have."
Prowl considered the other tactician for another astrosecond, not liking the sound of that statement, and then looked at the femme. "Insurance against the possibility I opt to change sides?"
Moonracer grinned, though there was nothing pleasant about it. "Something like that. It has happened once already."
Prowl bit back a retort at her absolutely confident tone. He frowned, asking his next question carefully. "And if I am captured but not turned… and not tempted to buy my freedom with betrayal? Or do you simply plan to ensure I do not get captured alive?"
The smile fell from Moonracer's lips and she leaned forward, all seriousness and deadliness. "If I am?"
The tension in the room suddenly spiked and Prowl felt Ironhide tense behind him as if readying to jump in. Springer, Smokescreen and the other mech also reacted defensively while Hound appeared troubled. The unified reaction to the question made him uneasy, but he dipped his helm accepting the implied conditions. "It is simply helpful to know where I stand. You are a good shot, I trust?"
"One shot, one kill. Fast and easy." Her lip plate tipped up slightly.
Prowl's engine revved quietly and he nodded again, lowering his gaze to the table so as not to inadvertently challenge the sniper. "That is a relief, because I calculate a 68.94% probability that this mission will result in my capture."
They stared at him blankly, though the still unknown scout growled lowly in his chassis. Hound seemed unnerved, glancing at Smokescreen before refocusing on Prowl.
It was Springer, however, who finally broke the uneasy silence, staring at Prowl. "And you'd be okay… with that?"
Prowl looked at Springer for a moment and then averted his gaze back to the holographic display, the feeling of wrongness washing over him again just before his tactical computer was able to supply the answer to what was bothering him. The location on the map was not one he had identified in his analysis. And he knew Autobot intelligence was thorough enough not to need his participation in a mission like this. There had to be more to this.
"I will fulfill my assignment to the best of my abilities, regardless of my personal feelings on the matter." He murmured softly, then his doorwings went absolutely stiff to keep them from moving at all as realization struck him between the doorwings. /Smokescreen?/
To his surprise, the other tactician answered his transmission even as he continued the briefing verbally. /Did you figure it out?/
/You are using me to draw out the traitor in the Autobot ranks./ It was more of a statement than a question, though it was asked with almost perfect neutrality. Outwardly, Prowl did not give anything away, appearing to give nothing but polite attention to what Smokescreen was saying.
/Yes./ The answer was blunt, unapologetic and almost challenging.
Prowl considered this for a long moment, the picture of what this mission would truly mean for him taking shape in his spinning processors. It was not pleasant, but he knew he did not have a way out of it and thus strove to accept that fate. He kept his transmission carefully passive. /Then I must correct my previous estimate. There is a 99.26% probability I will be captured./
/Yes./ It was delivered in the same manner as the previous answer.
Prowl flicked his optics to his former apprentice, recalling what Moonracer had said. /This is a suicide mission, then?/
/Hardly./ Smokescreen sounded almost insulted, though not truly troubled. /That is why Hound, Springer and Moonracer are going. They will get you out of the 'Con's hands. See, there is currently no known 'Con activity in this area. Only those in this room know where you are going so…/ Prowl could almost hear the smirk in the other mech's words near the end of that last sentence.
/If the Decepticons are there, we know someone on this team tipped them off./ Prowl made the obvious conclusion.
Smokescreen continued the briefing, though he transmitted the equivalent of an agreeing nod. /If you are captured and they know who you are, then we know it isn't a coincidence./
Prowl considered all of this then digitally indicated the black and white scout he did not know personally. /Is he your suspect, then?/
Smokescreen's optics darted to him in quiet surprise, then Prowl felt a rueful acknowledgement in the other tactician's response. /His designation is Barricade. The answer to your question is; yes, that is what we suspect./
/And Moonracer?/ Prowl asked cautiously.
/Insurance. Just in case./ Smokescreen sounded slightly challenging which almost caused a shiver to work down Prowl's spinal struts.
His former apprentice's tone made Prowl's doorwings twitch slightly. /For me or for Barricade?/
Those crystal blue optics flashed briefly toward him even though Smokescreen never deviated from his verbal delivery. /Whichever one is necessary./
Prowl sucked in a draft of air at the dangerous warning. Smokescreen did not trust him, did not like him and apparently could not care whether or not he made it back from this mission alive. It seemed that as far as Smokescreen was concerned, he was expendable.
But sending him out on a mission just to have him killed was a waste of resources he did not believe Smokescreen would indulge in, even for a personal vendetta. He wanted to make sure, carefully pitching his digital voice to be free of overt objection. /Her job is to take one or both of us out. A last resort?/
Smokescreen looked mildly startled at the worried note in Prowl's voice, which he could not completely contain. When he finally responded some of the antipathy had abated. /Always./ There was a pause. /As much as I'm still angry with you, I wouldn't send you into this situation just for spite./
Prowl relaxed slightly at that reassurance and then redirected his processor to other practical aspects of the upcoming assignment. /What are your predictions that I survive this mission?/
His former apprentice flicked his optics back to him briefly and then they darted away as Smokescreen answered. /82.10%. 98.20% for the others on the team./
Prowl considered that and then with a nearly silent sigh of air through his vents, he transmitted the equivalent of a acquiescent nod and let the communication line drop, wishing now he had taken more time to say his farewells to Bluestreak. The worried, almost haunted, look in the youngling's optics floating through his processors again.
After nearly a breem, he received an almost hesitent comm. from Smokescreen. /No objections?/
Prowl nearly snorted air through his vents except that he knew the importance of keeping their conversation absolutely private. /Based on my survival chances? No./
Smokescreen's response was borderline defensive. /But you do have objections./
It was almost as much an order to come clean, as it was the petulant whine of a frustrated student and Prowl hesitated. Smokescreen outranked him here and was clearly hostile toward him, even if only a little. Thus he was careful to keep his transmission neutral and non-challenging. /I do not see how this plan will bring out the traitor./
Smokescreen relaxed. /You have to know the mech in question. He will want you to know he was the one to hand you back to Megatron. If he's the one./
/Ah. I see./
There were a hundred other things he wanted to say but knew it was not his place. And he had already made the decision not to make things harder on Smokescreen than necessary. Smokescreen said he would not so blatantly risk his life just for spite and, despite everything, Prowl wanted to believe that promise. Regardless, he had already promised to assist the Autobots wherever he was wanted. He had not specified that task only be accomplished in the safety of their tactical command.
/You are not comfortable with the mission./ It was a bland observation which Prowl did not bother to deny.
/I will fulfill my assignment to the best of my abilities./ Prowl repeated the statement he had given Springer.
Smokescreen was a long moment in answering and when he finally did, it was not quite as hostile. In fact, it was almost sympathetic. /I'm sure you will./
The briefing was concluded shortly after that and they made their way to collect the supplies they would need for the trip as well as their energon rations. Ironhide went with them while Smokescreen remained on the command level.
A large black hand touched Prowl's arm and then released him, gesturing for him to fall back. Obediently, Prowl fell into step with the weapon's specialist. He was aware that the larger Autobot was evaluating him carefully. Then Ironhide spoke, his voice so quiet only Prowl could hear.
"You are aware of what this mission will likely require of you?"
Prowl nodded, his voice equally as quiet and free of inflection. "Yes."
"This is a big risk we take." Ironhide said softly, his voice intense and pointed. "You will be in the perfect position to betray us for your own survival."
Casting his escort a sidelong glance Prowl let his engine rev slightly in response to the understated challenge. "That is not an option."
Ironhide released a short huff of air. "For your sake, I hope not. Moonracer won't hesitate. Just know that if something should happen… We will continue to care for Bluestreak. He will not be without caring guardians."
Suddenly Prowl realized his steps did not feel quiet as heavy. He looked at Ironhide and then bowed his helm formally. "That is all I ask."
Ironhide harrumphed but he did not press the issue. At the doors to central supply, he started to walk away, then stopped, looking back at him appraisingly. /Good luck, Prowl./
Then the black weapons specialist spun around and was gone, leaving Prowl staring after him in a mild amount of shock… and the sickening feeling in his tanks that he would need all the luck he could get in the upcoming orns.
… … …
They arrived at the coordinates they had been given during the briefing two orns after their departure and, sure enough, there was a Decepticon installation present. But it was not the carefully hidden safe house Prowl and Ironhide had discovered, rather it was more like the temporary camp he and Hound had stumbled across, only much smaller and much more recently constructed. Prowl felt the dread in his tanks grow knowing now what his immediate future would undoubtedly hold. He knew what Decepticons did to their prisoners. And he knew what they did to traitors.
"Something doesn't feel right about this." Hound said softly from his crouched position behind an outcropping of metal.
Prowl said nothing, hardly moving as the olive-green mech quickly directed the rest of the team into concealed positions. He kept his gaze on the camp below, carefully reinforcing his firewalls, switching off pain relays and girding himself for the task that lay ahead. Once positioned, all attention focused back on Prowl and his engine revved lightly in response.
Moonracer glared at him with open suspicion as if knowing it was just a matter of time till he tried to turn on them. Springer just looked unhappy and tense. Hound stepped close to him, his expression and tone openly worried. "Ready?"
Prowl nodded stiffly and concentrated just long enough to darken his optics. Then he straightened, assuming an almost haughty pose. Hound shifted uneasily shivering. He stepped back slightly. "That's creepy."
"Shall we proceed?" Prowl asked with a calm he did not feel.
Silently, Hound gestured him toward the Decepticon camp. Prowl had only taken one step when Barricade stood from his semi-crouched, hidden position. "Wait."
All attention focused on the other black and white mech. Barricade stepped toward them, shooting Prowl a dark look. "I will go with him."
"That was not in the original plan…" Hound protested but Barricade waved him away.
"This is better. This way he will have back up if needed and… I can take care of him if I have to." He sneered slightly at Prowl. "He shouldn't be allowed to get that close by himself. He can't be trusted."
Hound stiffened. "He won't go back to them."
"We can't take that risk." Barricade appeared thoughtful. "We can pretend I am his prisoner."
Hound did not seem convinced, though Springer and Moonracer appeared to like the idea. He glanced at Prowl in silent question, it was an offer he never would have expected. Prowl was staring at the mech he now knew to be a traitor and considered the available options. If Barricade went with him, he would surely be turned over to the Decepticons. If Barricade remained with the others, it was likely he would betray all of them in his effort to trap Prowl and they would all be captured. It could still happen that way of course, but it would be safer for everyone else if Barricade was as far away from them as possible when the betrayal happened.
Meeting Hound's optics, Prowl nodded ever so slightly.
For a moment the scout looked as if he was going to object further, then he nodded, letting Prowl make that call. "Good luck to both of you, then."
Barricade smirked at Prowl as he walked past and the tactician restrained any reaction he wanted to have and turned to follow.
He waited till they were out of audio range from the scouts waiting for them then addressed Barricade blandly. "If you are going as my prisoner, should you not be in stasis cuffs?"
Barricade sneered at him. "Let myself be stasis cuffed by you? Not a chance, pit spawn."
Prowl's engine revved. "Yet you speak of maintaining my cover."
They were now more than three quarters of the way to the base. And Barricade suddenly stopped, spinning to face him. "That won't be a concern. Not for you."
The smile Barricade cast him was unquestionably filled with malice, as was the muzzle of the null-ray now pointed at his spark. The null-ray was outlawed by Autobot regulations because they were considered inappropriately cruel with little tactical advantage that justified the devastation they caused.
Prowl's optics flickered from the weapon up to the mech holding it. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Megatron will reward me very well for delivering you to him. Far more than he has for just being a deep cover agent in the Autobot ranks." Barricade stepped forward, waving the null-ray gun in demonstration. "Now, come with me quietly or I see how much damage one of these can do to a spark chamber at point blank range."
Prowl stiffened, nodding. Even though he walked obediently, his tactical computer was rapidly trying to determine how to extract himself from this situation. And, more importantly, how to do so without compromising the others. Then, with sudden clarity, Prowl realized that no, escape was not his primary goal. Not yet. The whole point of this mission was to uncover the traitor.
That meant he had a duty to make sure the others were made aware of Barricade's duplicity. Yet he doubted his word alone would be believed. At first he could think of nothing he could do, until his recent encounter with Hound – or rather a very specific part of that encounter – replayed in his memory files.
"You were an enforcer… before the war?" He had asked as the energy from the stasis cuffs bit into his arms.
"From Tyger Pax. Street patrol." Had been hound's guarded, yet highly informative reply.
If Hound was former street patrol, it was possible that was exactly what he needed.
Careful not to give any of his thoughts away to Barricade, Prowl initiated his comm. system, keeping it to the lowest wavelength possible to avoid the traitor detecting it. /Prowl to Hound./
Hound was a moment in answering, concern evident. /What is it, Prowl?/
Prowl wasted no time, seeing the perimeter of the Decepticon camp clearly now. /As former street patrol, did you have the modifications to allow direct communications through a linked system?/
/You mean linking our auditory systems so that I hear what you hear?/ Hound sounded somewhat taken aback.
/Yes./
/Why?/ Hound asked with a sudden note of suspicion.
/I believe you and the others will want to hear what is about to transpire./ With that, Prowl forcibly subdued any instinctive need to protect himself or his privacy and transmitted the uplink codes to his communications system, keeping them open wide.
… … …
Hound could not stop his engines from stuttering in surprise as audio data suddenly flooded his system. He cleared his vents and activated the modifications street patrols used during stake-outs and infiltrations into criminal organizations. It allowed him to fully process both his own auditory input and completely integrate the streaming audio input from another in real time without overlapping the two. He was hearing everything exactly as Prowl was hearing it, to the extent that he could even determine direction and distance as if he were actually in the Praxian's armor.
"Moonracer, Springer… stand by to receive transmission." Hound transmitted them the audio stream in real time even as they watched to two mechs approach the Decepticon camp in the distance. The two others would not have the detail and clarity Hound did in that it would come across more as simply an intercepted comm. signal with no depth.
"Halt! Prepare to die, autoscum!" Some nameless Decepticon sentry snarled at them.
"You imbecile! You were told to expect me. I will speak to the commander of this camp."
Moonracer shot Hound a startled look. "That was Barricade."
Hound nodded, grunting, that uneasy feeling he had had coming back full force as the sounds of moving pedes filled their audios. Then another voice broke in.
"Ah, what have we here?"
Barricade was the one who answered. "Just as I promised, Razor, the traitor, Prowl. Lord Megatron will be pleased to get him back."
"Yes." The mech identified as Razor murmured quietly and from the sound he was circling Prowl. "But there is a time and place for everything, Barricade. Let's get what we can out of him first. I doubt Megatron will mind if he gets the mech or just his empty shell."
The laughter, which came from all sides, sent a shiver down Hound's spinal struts and he wondered how Prowl did not respond in any audible manner. His engines did not even rev. Daring to move to a better vantage point, Hound peered down at the camp, straining his sensors to the utmost, only to see Prowl being forced to his knees by two vicious kicks to his legs.
They heard the muted grunt as Prowl hit the ground, but that was it.
"You won't be able to go back undercover after this." The one called Razor mentioned almost lightly.
"Who cares." Barricade almost spat, the harsh noise radically different than the mech he had come to know over the last few vorns. "It will be worth it to be the one to break him."
"Indeed. I would claim that right my self, but you have earned first crack at him, I suppose." Razor laughed menacingly and the terrifying noise was echoed by the others surrounding Prowl.
"First things, first." Barricade intoned. "He is no longer worthy to wear our Lord Megatron's symbol. Remove it."
"With pleasure." Some unidentified mech responded.
All of the three watching and listening Autobots winced as the sound of metal striking metal filled their audios as Prowl was viciously attacked. They heard the whine of a saw even as they watched, helpless to stop what was happening, as the metal plating that had boasted the purple Decepticon brand was cut and pried away. Hound could not help cringing at the sound of tearing and prying, knowing what it was; unable to do anything but watch it happen.
They heard Prowl's gasps, his quiet grunts and the angry rev of his engine, as first one shoulder guard and then the other were alternatingly cut, pried and then ultimately torn free of his frame.
When they were finished Prowl was on his knees, sparks leaping from frayed wires and energron dripping from the mangled lines and plating. Yet the Praxian remained stubbornly silent, even though he curled inward in agony. Even so, the weakness did not last long.
Hound felt his spark stutter as he watched Prowl straighten, staring up at the Decepticon. His voice was filled with steely determination. "If you think you will gain anything useful from me, you are wrong."
"You misunderstand me, traitor. I don't care if you have any information of value. All I care about is that you suffer for your betrayal." The one called Razor spit derisively. "If it so happens you spill something useful, it only makes it better."
"Can't you do something, Moonracer?" Hound asked tightly.
"There are too many of them." Moonracer's response was equally stressed. "I start shooting them and they will kill him for sure. And I don't have a good line of sight on Barricade."
"Take him." Razor's order was sharp and quickly obeyed.
Prowl was forced all the way to the ground as first his weapons and then his subspace controls were cut, the armor covering the controls forcibly pried away. Then the communication line connecting the Praxian to the three Autobots was also disabled in a sudden squeal of pained static.
The sudden silence was disconcerting in itself and felt like a horrifying portend of what was coming.
Hound realized with instant clarity how Prowl must have felt on their last mission together as, much to far away for him to stop it from happening, Prowl was hauled to his pedes and taken into one of the temporary structures making up the camp.
"Barricade." Springer whispered bitterly. "How could we have missed that?"
Hound shook his helm, feeling his spark clench, as he lowered his gaze to the uneven ground beneath him. And then his engine revved loudly as he realized something. He straightened, looking at the others. "Prowl didn't. He knew. It was the only reason he would have initiated that comm. link."
Springer looked at him and blinked. "You mean… Prowl knew it was a set up? You think he knew Barricade was a spy all along?"
Hound considered that, remembering the slight nod Prowl had given him when Barricade had demanded to go to the Decepticon camp and realized that Prowl had known even then. Possibly even earlier. He seemed to be scary good like that. "I think it is a very real possibility. And he went anyway. What was he thinking?"
Even as he asked the question, Hound knew… or at least thought he knew. Prowl must not have believed he would have been believed he had pointed a digit at Barricade. And the thing of it was, Hound knew that was exactly how it would have been. How cliché would it have been for a defector to point the finger of betrayal at a trusted member of the team? Even he would not have trusted such a claim from Prowl.
And that conclusion made Hound wonder if there had been yet another reason Prowl had voluntarily walked into enemy hands in the company of a traitor if he had known that mech would betray him. Of course, there was a reason.
Hound looked at the remaining two members of his team and felt his frame tense, his gaze shooting back to the Decepticon camp as determination and resolve suddenly stiffened his own struts. "We've gotta get him out of there. If they think he's a traitor, that means he is at least on our side. And we all know what 'Con's do to traitors. No one deserves that."
Springer nodded sharply, still looking somewhat surprised and slightly taken aback.
Moonracer was slower to agree. She looked between the two of them. "He is just a 'Con defector. Is it really worth the risk?"
Hound gave her an unyielding look. "He thought I was worth the risk when our positions were reversed. I'm going to go in. If you aren't willing to do so, stay here. Both of you."
Springer shook his helm. "I'm going. You're right. Even a mech like Prowl doesn't deserve what they're likely to do to him. I may not like him, but I'll do what is right."
Moonracer growled lowly. "I'm not doing it for him; Prowl can go rot in the pit for all I care. But I'll back you two up."
Hound nodded, knowing that was the best he would get, and turned back to the Decepticon camp. They would have to wait until the cover of night. Unfortunately that was still several joors away. He could only pray that Prowl could withstand whatever they did to him until that time.
… … …
Prowl floated in a sea of agony even though almost all of his pain sensors were deactivated. The pain flared through his pressure grid and was an unrelenting, pounding force that at least served as an anchor to which he could cling to keep himself online. As much as he wanted to surrender to the beckoning darkness of stasis, he knew it would be his death if he did so because it would leave his processor with precious little to defend against the mech now trying to tear his firewalls apart.
Barricade had already tried to get through his mental defenses and the effort had landed the traitor in the med bay with a fragmented processor. Not that Prowl had had much time to revel in that minor victory. Razor had decided to try softening him up physically before having a truly nasty mech from Decepticon special operations, designated as Slipshod, try again.
In agonizing compliment of the torment that graced his frame and ripped into his shredded doorwings, digital daggers stabbed repeatedly into his processors, incessantly trying to weaken his firewalls. The pressure against his defenses built to excruciating levels and, too exhausted physically to react externally, Prowl nevertheless determinedly kept his attacker at bay.
The physical beating he had sustained ensured he was unable to muster the strength to digitally attack the one hacking him, but he had not yet been pushed to the point where his mental strength was in true danger of collapsing. Not yet. But he was loosing energon at an alarming rate through the various wounds he had been given
With a furious snarl, Slipshod pulled back slightly only to release one of the hands he had dug into the plating on Prowl's chassis and un-sheath yet another another energon dagger, igniting the small sliver of metal.
"You. Will. Break." With a flick of his hand the blade joined the handful of other such weapons imbedded in his doorwings.
Prowl gritted his denta, unable to move at all against the stasis field holding him at the Decepticon's mercy. But he did not scream. He would not give Slipshod that satisfaction.
Then suddenly the invading mind was ripped out his; the clawed hands digging deep gouges into his armor, torn free of his frame. The pain that action caused was covered by the blessed coolness of relief as his mind was again his alone. Vaguely hearing a muffled gurgle from where Slipshod had been standing over him, Prowl on-lined his optics.
Immobilized as he was on his back however, he could see nothing but the harsh light recessed into the ceiling to give the interrogators a clear view of their victim. He drew in a ragged draft of air and hastily used the unexpected reprieve to bolster his mental defenses for another inevitable attack.
Then a shadow fell over him as a new mech leaned close. But the optics that stared down at him were a bright sapphire, not ruby. Prowl blinked, trying to make sense of this unexpected development.
Then the mech smiled. "Thank Primus, you're alive!"
Prowl blinked again, true relief mingling with surprise and disbelief, making him feel light-headed. His engine coughed weakly on leaking fluids. "Hound? You came."
The olive-green scout nodded, then grimaced as he looked him over. Then Hound busily started prying the restraints free, deactivating the stasis field generators as he went. "Of course. You're one of us now. Well… almost. And I know what Decepticons do to their prisoners."
Once he was released, Hound helped him sit up on what was apparently a berth of some kind. "Thank you."
Hound grimaced, looking somewhat embarrassed. "We aren't out yet."
As if to punctuate that statement, Springer's voice came from the corridor just outside. "More are on the way. Move it."
"Can you walk?" Hound asked with concern.
"No choice." Prowl managed to bite out as mangled struts in his right leg almost buckled under his weight when he tried to stand. The left leg was little better. "I will be unable to transform, however."
Hound nodded and wordlessly slipped under one arm, taking his weight and easing the burden imposed on the most injured extremity. Together, they made their way into the corridor. Even though Prowl had no idea what his physical appearance looked like, Springer's reaction gave him a fair idea.
The mech's optics widened in horror and it was a long astrosecond before he could move again. "Slagging butchers!" Then he was darting forward to take Prowl's other arm.
In this manner the trio made their way out of the building. As they neared the camp perimeter angry shouts and weapons fire finally caught up with them. They ducked reflexively as angry orange plasma arced over their heads and Hound hissed as he was grazed by enemy shots. Then more energy was lighting the night air, though it was coming from ahead of them. The pinpoint accuracy of the incoming yellow-hot plasma forced their pursuers to fall back. Moonracer.
Their retreat continued for half a joor until they reached a somewhat secluded, abandoned culvert that could provide some minor cover from aerial surveillance. Hound and Springer lowered him to the ground with remarkable gentleness and Springer immediately went to work.
"Primus, Prowl." The mech murmured as he evaluated the damages Prowl's Decepticon interrogators had managed to inflict. "How are you even online?"
"I have no choice." Prowl managed to grind out as Springer's attempt to remove one of the energon daggers still imbedded in his doorwings caused a sharp feedback of pain signals. He flicked it back, out of Springer's reach, despite the light-headedness that motion caused. "Ignore the doorwings. Only do what you have to so that I can move on my own power. We have to get out of here."
Springer stilled, staring at him. "But… the pain…"
Prowl shook his head. "The Decepticons will follow us. We have maybe seven breems before they find us. I will not be responsible for the rest of you getting damaged or killed. My legs now, the doorwings can wait…. Please."
Springer stared at him for a long moment, clearly seeing the unspoken agony within the Praxian's amber gaze. Springer was not a true medic, a field medical technician perhaps, but not nearly on a par with even the most junior medic working for Ratchet. But he knew enough to know that injuries such as the ones those doorwings had sustained, with at least half a dozen blades imbedded in them had to be excruciating. It said a great deal about Prowl that he was even online. It said even more that he was lucid let alone able to speak with anything resembling courtesy at the moment, not to mention that his apparent primary concern was the safety of his rescuers not his own pain relief.
Then Springer came back to himself and nodded, leaving the sensitive extremities to work on the mangled struts and motor control wires in Prowl's damaged legs. He worked quickly, applying the temporary plating where necessary as well as welding splints to his shattered weight-baring struts. Then, with another quick scan, he hastily cauterized the largest of the energon leaks.
"I can take your doorwings off." Springer offered quietly. "That should at least reduce the feedback of the pain and pressure signals."
Prowl considered that. "How long will that take?"
Springer blinked. "Done gently? Roughly a breem a piece. That is, if I disconnect all the pain and pressure relays before removing them. But I can physically have them both off within half a breem if I just… take them off."
Prowl studied him for a moment longer then nodded. He needed to be able to think clearly and knew that would be a problem so long as he had to deal with the continued torture of the weapons imbedded within the sensitive panels. "Then take them off quickly. We have only just over a breem before our position will be compromised."
"Moonracer is keeping a look out." Hound interjected then, sounding slightly numb. "We won't be ambushed in here at least."
"Are you sure?" Springer asked him, ignoring Hound. "It will hurt like the pit."
"They already hurt like the pit. It is not my preference, but we have little choice." Prowl hesitated for a moment then slid aside a control panel on his neck. "I recommend immobilizing my whole frame first, for both of our safety."
Springer hesitated, glancing at the open control panel and then nodded, reaching for it.
Then Prowl's entire frame froze, motor relays temporarily disconnected. Prowl had little time to be disconcerted by the intense vulnerability such total immobility generated, especially with his recent treatment by the Decepticons, before Moonracer's voice broke in over an open comm. line.
/Decepticons approaching. Ten of them. I'd estimate only a breem out at most./
"Slag." Springer spit out the word, then a remarkably gentle hand was pressed between Prowl's doorwings. "I'm sorry."
Intense, blinding agony suddenly ripped through his back, followed immediately by another wave of sheer, raw fire and he cried out involuntarily. Then it faded swiftly to a dull, aching throb as the abused pressure grid suddenly had nothing sending it painful stimuli. It was relief that was hard won, but well welcomed
He was panting air through heaving vents as his frame was remobilized and Springer stepped around to face him, anxiety written openly on his faceplate.
"I've subspaced your doorwings. I'll give them to Ratchet when we get back."
Prowl nodded. He would have preferred to keep them himself, but decided it was not worth arguing the point. Not at the moment and not with the mech who would be seeing to any other field repairs he might need before they reached Iacon.
Without having to be asked, Hound and Springer both reached out to help him to his pedes and soon they were moving again.
Is this a horrible place to leave it or what? Sorry. Hey, at least I didn't break the chapter while Prowl was still in the Decepticon's hands, right? Let's count our blessings where can. :) Like I said, I will do my best to get the next chapter up as quickly as possible, but don't be too terribly impatient. Please…?
