It wasn't that hard to actually find Tracks; the Firebird usually put off so much energy anyway that it could be felt for miles. It was getting him to actually stop moving; catching Tracks was the problem.
The Firebird was busily enjoying himself in the Reck Room, absentmindedly playing with one of the tools he had recently stolen from Ratchet's office when Prowl had found him. The cop's fury was somewhat subdued, but he knew that by Tracks' surprised expression that anger was still showing on his face. Tracks clutched the energon scalpel as he dropped his feet off of the table and onto the ground and glared at Prowl, who growled back. The cop's fists were clenched tightly and his optics were narrowed as his arms began to shake from the strain it took to hold himself back from just jumping on the Firebird and killing him where he stood, but almost immediately after wished he had attacked because the Firebird made the first move. In that split-second hesitation, Tracks threw the scalpel at him and disappeared through the North doors.
Prowl yelped as the scalpel's blade sank into his newly-mended shoulder and snarled, pulling it out and throwing it at the wall. He charged after Tracks into the North halls and heard the Firebird's light footfalls heading toward the ark's entrance. He quickly chased after Tracks, his mind filled with anger and worry at the same time. If Tracks got outside, then he could easily fly off and Prowl would never catch him. He scowled then jumped and transformed in the air. He knew he was faster in his alternate mode and was ready to prove it as his tires slammed onto the ground and screeched away, producing the longest burnout Prowl had ever made, the sound echoing through the halls. He soon saw the Firebird's blue body up ahead and transformed back to his robot form, simultaneously pulling out a heavy blaster, which he fired upon Tracks. He heard a cry as one of the fires slammed into Tracks' back, slamming the Firebird into the ground right outside the ark.
Prowl ran to the mech, scowling down upon the Firebird in angry disgust, the barrel of his blaster pointed right at Tracks' head. Every synapse in his body screamed at him to pull the trigger, to blow apart Tracks' head on the spot, but he chose instead to go with an idea that he had a long time ago; make this traitor's death as painful as possible.
In Prowl's hesitation Tracks whirled around on the ground and kicked his leg out, tripping Prowl and causing him to fall. Squirming, he scuttled and ran again to try and get away from the ark to be able to transform and take off with no problem. Prowl's rage at the Firebird was beginning to take over his better judgment as he got up and chased after Tracks. His mind was getting clouded and distorted and he felt as though some unbeknown force was controlling him, showing him nothing but red anger and blind rage. His body was pulsing with hot feelings he could not describe as his body changed slightly, his right arm sparking red and flowing with hot energy as the giant cannon appeared again, jutting out from his elbow and from his shoulder.
Tracks saw his opportunity to escape and transformed, his boosters kicking into life as he jumped into the air, about to fly off when Prowl jumped and landed on him. The cop's weight was too much for Tracks to bear on top, so his tires hit the ground again and Tracks sped up, trying to shake the cop off. Prowl roared savagely and pointed the cannon at one of Tracks' wings. Hot energy surged through him before the blast came, the huge energy twisting and breaking the metal in a flurry of red sparks as he heard Tracks scream out in agony. Prowl got off of Tracks and the Firebird transformed, the pain too much for the Firebird to bear in car mode. Tracks rolled on the ground, cursing at Prowl as he felt the cop's weight on top of him. He lashed out, catching the side of Prowl's head with a powerful blow and sent the mech off of him, followed by a flurry of bullets from a blaster that the Firebird had procured, firing upon Prowl's body.
The cop knew he was injured from the attack, but could feel no pain, the anger too strong, his will to kill too intense for him to know anything but blind, white-hot rage. Prowl hated this bot with all his Spark and wanted to see to it personally that Tracks was killed. Prowl knew that killing would be easy, but he wanted the blue mech to suffer for what he had done.
"What the Fragging Hell is wrong with you?!" Tracks' fists were raised as he spoke. "Why are you attacking me??" Tracks was playing dumb, and Prowl knew it.
"Why the Fragging Hell do you think?!" Prowl's rage spat out at him. He shot at Tracks, the cannon's energy surged toward Tracks, but he dodged, hiding behind an outcrop of rock. "If you have nothing to hide, Firebird," Prowl continued, his voice full of poison. "Then why are you running?" Prowl slowly walked over to the rock that Tracks was hiding behind, but before he could do anything, he got a blaster to the face.
Prowl fell back in agony as he clutched at his face, the point-blank shot cracking one of his optics and distorted and blurred his vision. Prowl heard footsteps fading and knew that the coward was running away again, and Prowl would be damned if he let Tracks get away with what he had done. Rolling over, he lifted the cannon and fired, the huge blast pummeling into one of the Firebird's legs, slamming him into the earth once more.
Getting up, the first-in-command walked to Tracks who was screaming slightly and clutching at his right leg, the leg blown off at the knee. He cried out and sent evil curses to the cop's audios in Autobot. Prowl smirked down at Tracks and kneeled over him. The Firebird lifted the blaster in his hand, but the cop grabbed his hand and twisted, forcing the blue mech to drop his weapon. Prowl took Tracks' blaster, pointed it at the Firebird's chest and pulled the trigger, feeling insanely satisfied when he heard Tracks screaming in agony as the three point-blank blasts ripped easily through the Firebird's chest armor. Prowl knew he didn't hit the Spark, but knew he came damn close to it.
Tossing the small blaster aside, he placed the cannon's barrel against Tracks' chest, letting the heavy weapon push against him. He growled at the blue mech, but silenced himself as he was surprised to suddenly hear sobbing.
Tracks was crying, but whether from pain or fear, Prowl could not tell. "Please-" Tracks' strained voice was feeble and sounded pathetically weak. "Please don't! Spare me, I'm sorry-"
"You're sorry?!" Prowl's anger rose again. "That's all you have to say?! You raped my bondmate and almost kill him and all you have you say is sorry?!" Prowl snarled at Tracks; he looked so pathetic under the cop's cannon.
"For the love of Primus, Prowl, don't kill me!" Tracks' pleading was pathetic and it was beginning to get on Prowl's nerves.
The cop scowled. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." he pushed the cannon into tracks' chest and heard the Firebird yell out in pain. When Tracks produced no answer to his prompting, Prowl smirked. "I thought so. Then, perhaps, you could tell me why?"
Tracks' ace went from desperately pitiful to angry faster than Prowl had ever thought possible. The Firebird's arm came up and brutally connected with the side of Prowl's head, slightly dislodging the mech from Tracks' body. Prowl's fury came back to him and, before he could really stop himself, he roared and the red hot energy surged through his arm as the sound of the cannon going off rocked through the flat landscape.
Prowl's arm went limp as the energy from the cannon began to slowly dwindle. The cop looked at Tracks' body with sight astonishment at what he had done, a giant hole blasted straight through the bot's blue body to the ground below. Prowl sat back, his optics locked on the chasm through Tracks' chest as feeling slowly came back to his body. The adrenaline and fury were dissipating quickly, the cannon vanishing with it, coming back to a regular, solid arm.
He groaned as he clutched at his side in slight surprise, now realizing the wounds in his body from Tracks' blaster. Scowling, he got up then looked down at Tracks' face, the blue optics dark and devoid of life. He knew that he couldn't leave the dead mech here, so he thought for a second and a simple, yet effective, thought came to his mind as he quickly commed Omega Supreme.

"Decepticons," he had told Ratchet when the Medic had seen Prowl's injuries. "A seeker jumped on me." Prowl was pleased with his cover story of what had happened to him, although the Medic didn't seem too happy about having to fix him up again. He was now sitting next to Jazz, who had been propped up on the Recharge Berth. Ratchet needed to reboot the Porsche for a moment to see if everything was connected alright in Jazz's arms, and he needed to be sitting up for the test. Jazz's body was leaning against Prowl's, the black head on his shoulders, and that suited the cop just fine.
Ratchet had booted up a machine, which quickly gave Jazz a spark of power. The Porsche jumped slightly as his optic band flitted to life. Jazz tried to sit up but was forced back down by Ratchet.
"Don't move, boy, I just have to run some basic tests." Ratchet bustled away for a moment and Prowl found Jazz's hands wandering over his body, as if trying to see who was next to him; the Porsche couldn't see things very clearly unless the visor was over his face.
Prowl took one of Jazz's hands in his. "It's me, Jazz. It's Prowl."
Jazz's face broke into a feeble smile and he squeezed Prowl's hand slightly. "Prowl? Thanks Primus it's you!" He sounded slightly anxious. "I was afraid you were…" he paused and seemed to be slightly uncomfortable.
"Tracks?" Prowl helped him finish his sentence. He watched Ratchet come back over with some tools, but chose to ignore the medic for a moment. "Don't worry, he won't bother you again." Prowl felt awkward as he looked at Jazz's face. He had a sudden urge to do something he had never done before, but before he could do what he wanted, the Porsche spoke.
"You know?" Jazz asked quietly, a hint of fear in his voice.
"I do, yes." Prowl mumbled back as his head began to move closer to Jazz's. "And I can promise you," He seemed to be moving and speaking automatically, his body doing something that his mind wasn't telling it to do. He slowly pressed his lips to Jazz's white ones and engaged Jazz in a very awkward kiss as a small surge of happiness flowed in his spark as he slowly pulled away from Jazz. If he had been human, he was positive that he would be blushing, an awkward feeling in his face. "It won't happen again, Jazz."
Jazz smiled at Prowl, but was pulled away from the cop's attention when a comm came through; Optimus Prime had returned from his mission and had wanted a report. He looked back at Jazz, but the Porsche's head was turned toward Ratchet as the Medic began his tests. Sadly he bade farewell to the two and left the Medbay to meet his leader in his office.
Knocking on the door, Prowl entered Optimus Prime's office and strode up to his leader, happily shaking the hand offered him. "How was your mission, sir?" Prowl asked. Standard protocol, always ask your superior how everything went, even if you aren't interested.
"Oh, the basic routine, but very devoid of Deception seekers." Prime replied with a sigh. "Not that I'm complaining, or anything." Prowl chuckled at the joke and knew full well why the seekers hadn't been there, but he just smiled at Prime. "What about here?" Prime asked. "Anything catastrophic happen while I was gone?"
Prowl smiled pleasantly at his leader as he thought of the events that had passed in the last forty-eight hours of his leader's absence. Certainly, the events that had passed were nothing to smile about, right? One event, though, stood out in Prowl's mind as the one satisfying thing that occurred in the last two days of this hellish nightmare. Sure, he liked the fact that he had a bondmate now, but it was the more amusing factor of trying to hazard a guess as to what the Junkions were going to use Tracks' body for.
"No, sir," Prowl's smile widened as he let his imagination stray on that subject for a while. "Everything worked out just fine."