A/N: This is a rewrite of the Prowl/Lockdown scene in chapter 17 of 'A Time For Trust.' Sorry about the screenplay format, but I didn't want to take the time to go back and rewrite the entire scene into novel format. If you're reading ATFT, then I'm sure you're used to it by now though. ^_^ I wanted to get this posted before Optimus Bob posts her upcoming, sweet-ass Cybertronian Nights chapter, which references this scene.
This chapter can pretty much stand alone as a post-Season 3 encounter with Prowl and Lockdown, accept for one big issue: Prowl's alive. =P The 'cons resurrected him but melded him with a demented human brain, so he's been a little...off lately. I fall back on this plot device as a means to bridge the gap between the episodes, A Fistful of Implied Slash (err, Energon) and Five Servos of Doom, which isn't the easiest of gaps to bridge. "Hey Prowl, I killed your sensei, but I really think we should be business partners." (Sure, TFA writers, whatever you say. =/) If Prowl were in his right mind, he wouldn't so easily brush off Lockdown's past sins...but Prowl isn't in his right mind.
Disclaimer: Hasbro owns all, I just play in their world.
Stowaway by ToyzInTheAttic
DINOBOT ISLAND - DEATH'S HEAD CRUISER - BRIDGE
Lockdown stands hunched over the control console, grumbling a series of near-inaudible complaints as he plots a course to Cybertron.
LOCKDOWN
First 'con that complains about the mess'll be hitchhiking.
From the shadowy corners of the bridge, a smooth voice shamelessly infiltrates the bounty hunter's assumed solitude.
PROWL
So, you've allied yourself with the Decepticons.
Without a thought of hesitation, Lockdown whirls around and fires a net toward the unwelcome presence, an attack easily predicted by the ninja and even more easily dodged with a simple somersault.
Despite the pleasure of being reunited with a formidable foe, Lockdown instinctively transforms his upgraded hand into a raging chainsaw if, for nothing more, than the effect. An adrenaline-boosted smile spreads across his face as he locks blaring red optics upon the sleek crouched form.
LOCKDOWN
Was wonderin' when you'd show up. How'd ya find me?
PROWL
The smell.
LOCKDOWN
(laughing heartily)
Rude little punk.
The enthralled bounty hunter advances slowly on the ninja, who maintains his safe distance with graceful sidestepping. Lockdown eyeballs every inch of Prowl with near disbelieving optics. He furrows his brow once realizing that one very prominent upgrade is missing.
LOCKDOWN
Happen to your master's helmet?
Prowl's hands are clenched artfully over his shuriken as he fixes his stare upon his opponent's every move.
PROWL
Wouldn't you like to know. If I recall correctly, he was your master too.
Lockdown continues to advance and Prowl continues to keep his distance, forcing the two into a gaping waltz across the ship's bridge. Pacing halfway around the room's circumference is enough to bore the bounty hunter. He powers down his chainsaw and carelessly leans back against the operating berth positioned in the center of the room.
LOCKDOWN
The hell's your story anyway? The ol' coot boot you outta the Well with orders to take me out?
Prowl is insulted by the mech's casual attitude.
PROWL
I'd rather not talk about my master or my resurrection if it's all the same to you. (he follows suit out of spite and relaxes his defensive stance). I didn't come here to fight.
LOCKDOWN
Then what the spark you doin' here?
PROWL
I wish to discuss a business proposition.
Lockdown twists his tattooed face in uncertainty. He didn't see that coming one bit, especially considering the sins he'd confessed to committing during their last encounter. He looks the ninja over with conflicting thoughts of hope and skepticism. The illogical part of him wants to interpret Prowl's words as a partnership, but that was a dangerous path to tread. The infuriating rejection that resulted from his initial proposal of a partnership was not something he wanted to rehash.
LOCKDOWN
Intriguing as that sounds, your timing is horrible. This ship's about to be filled with 'cons.
Lockdown ambles to the control console, managing with near success to convey an aloof state of being.
PROWL
(interrogating)
Why?
Prowl remains still but follows the bounty hunter's every cryptic move, once again insulted that the mech would regard him so casually.
LOCKDOWN
Am transportin' em. (slightly shameful) Pay was too good to pass up.
PROWL
Isn't that the story of your life. (He studies the mech a moment then shifts his tone from hostile to hopeful) So…you're not joining them?
LOCKDOWN
Spark no!
PROWL
Where are you taking them?
LOCKDOWN
(looking over his shoulder with irritation)
Ain't telling you that. My customers are entitled to their confidentiality, 'specially from do-goodin' little Autobots.
The accusation ruffles the ninja and he breaks his glare against the mech's back to uncomfortably flutter his optics and shift his glance around the room.
PROWL
That is…not who I am…not anymore.
The kid's angst is enough to warrant Lockdown's full attention as he turns around and leans against the console. He watches with skepticism as the troubled ninja struggles to make eye contact then folds his mismatched arms across his chest.
LOCKDOWN
Bullshit.
The ninja snaps his focus up, eager to defend against being called out unjustly.
PROWL
It's the truth.
LOCKDOWN
Why would I believe that?
Prowl pauses as the ultimate moment of truth is upon him. It didn't matter how much he practiced the line in his head, it didn't make it any easier on his pride to actually deliver it in person.
PROWL
Because…I came here to…see if your offer still stands.
Lockdown battles an array of processes flooding his mind from joy to irony then finally, suspicion. He wasn't protoformed yesterday and wouldn't allow the devious little Autobot to rope him in at his weak point.
LOCKDOWN
Nice try, kid, but I don't buy it. (he turns back around to the console and pretends to attend to some important key tapping) You're up to somethin'. There's no way you'd abandon your precious Prime. (glancing back over his shoulder with insult) What kind of fool you take me for?
PROWL
(growing desperate)
Listen to me Lockdown, I am no longer one of them.
Prowl grows frustrated that his first attempt failed and stifles the idea of elevating his desperation to the next level. He hopes closing the gap between the two will aid in conveying his point.
PROWL
Everything I did for them…what I sacrificed, was apparently…unappreciated. (his spark sinks) They did not deem me worthy enough to be laid to rest as a hero and instead brought me back to this planet to be buried in dirt.
Lockdown stops his fondling of the keypads and mulls over the ninja's uncharacteristically single-minded behavior. He feels a twinge of nausea at the baseless self-defeat that shouldn't be spewing from a 'bot originally deserving of his partnership.
LOCKDOWN
(turning around)
Somethin's off about you.
He looks over Prowl with disappointment.
LOCKDOWN
You'd better go.
Prowls closes the gap further, shamelessly, pitifully and completely abandoning any shred of dignity.
PROWL
Lockdown please! I have no where else to go. At least take me off this planet.
The monitor blips with static then fills with the materializing image of Shockwave.
SHOCKWAVE
Shockwave to Lockdown. Please report.
If the bounty hunter could ever be driven to pity, this would be the moment. Something was completely wrong about the kid and he couldn't bring himself to send him packing.
LOCKDOWN
I gotta take this. (points to the corner of the room) Get outta viewing range.
He faces the monitor again and opens up his end of the call.
LOCKDOWN
Shockwave.
SHOCKWAVE
Report your location.
LOCKDOWN
Closer than you think. Where you want me to park this gal?
SHOCKWAVE
I will send you the coordinates. There is a clearing in the forest large enough to land your ship in. You will see a crude hole in the ground, do not land upon it, rather next to it.
LOCKDOWN
Gotcha…don't land on hole.
SHOCKWAVE
When can we anticipate your arrival?
LOCKDOWN
Soon.
SHOCKWAVE
Soon is not a number.
LOCKDOWN
Shortly, then. Lockdown out.
The transmission cuts off in the middle of Shockwave's frustrated cursing.
Prowl emerges from the shadows but is immediately snatched by the neck and slammed into the shelves. He dangles, growling in protest as a pair of red optics bore into his face.
LOCKDOWN
(viciously)
How can I be certain you won't rat out my passengers?
PROWL
(strained)
I…told you…I am…no longer an…Autobot.
Lockdown continues the penetrating glare then eases the squirming ninja down to his feet and releases the hold on his neck.
LOCKDOWN
You fer real, kid?
PROWL
(rubbing his neck)
Yes…(he meets Lockdown's glare with sincere desperation) What will it take to convince you?
Prowl flinches as Lockdown's hand glides past his head and into the shelf behind him. He's uncomfortable by the breaching of his comfort zone, even more so in the fact that Lockdown's expression is calm and unreadable. The modded hand retreats, now holding a device which is instantly shoved against the ninja's chest.
LOCKDOWN
Use that. It'll mask your energy signal.
Prowl grabs the device with a fumbling hand and looks to the bounty hunter with question.
Lockdown tilts his head in a 'follow me' gesture and turns toward the doorway.
LOCKDOWN
C'mon. You can stow away in the engine room.
The relieved yet surprised ninja follows him out of the bridge and down the hallway. He tries to interpret the nonsensical grumbles coming from his new ally, but the growing whir of engines from behind the door they're advancing on makes anything but a shout impossible to clearly decipher.
They stop at the door but Lockdown doesn't open it. He instead turns and looks down upon the pondering blue optic visor with the intent of more interrogation.
LOCKDOWN
(shouting over engine noise)
How is it you're not harboring a grudge 'gainst me for takin' out your master?
PROWL
(matching his shout)
I do not wish to discuss--
LOCKDOWN
(interrupting)
Look kid, if you're gonna go into business with me then you need to learn the ethics of communication. How'm I suppose to trust you if you don't clue me in (taps his hook against Prowl's forehead) to what's goin' on in that twisted processor of yours.
Prowl jerks away from the hook with irritation.
PROWL
Because no one's past is without blemish, including my own. (takes a moment to regain his composure) Everyone is guilty of treachery in one way or another. Some choose the path of regret, others redemption, and the truly depraved simply wallow in apathy.
Lockdown can only respond with a single raised brow.
PROWL
(continuing smugly)
It is not my place to judge your quality of character, however, I am not without valid suspicion in regard to the path you chose.
LOCKDOWN
(confused and frustrated)
The spark kinda religious poppycock you tossin' me? I killed your sensei. You have every right to judge my quality of character.
Prowl drops his head as his spark stings with a rehashed mourning.
PROWL
(shaking his head, speaking softly)
Your actions against Master Yoketron are horrendous...I do indeed have every right to depise you for them. (meets Lockdown's optics again) But I don't believe you could have done the damage you did if our master didn't allow you to.
Lockdown's optics brighten hotly but instead of smacking the kid with a retort, he jams his spiked shoulder into the door and bursts into the engine room. He grabs the large lever on the wall next the door and wrenches it down, immediately causing the deafening engine roar to descend its pitch into silence.
LOCKDOWN
Need you quiet a klik, darlin'.
Prowl enters the engine room and is immediately engulfed by the bounty hunter's shadow.
LOCKDOWN
(tapping his claw against Prowl's chest)
You sayin' Yoketron let me mess him up?
PROWL
(rising to the challenge)
Yes, and I believe you're aware of this. You attacked an opponent who did not fight back, and that has wrenched your spark nearly every waking moment since it happened.
This accusation does not sit well with the bounty hunter. His hook drops to his side but he keeps a stern expression locked on the accuser.
PROWL
(continuing)
Your words, that night in the stadium, gave you away. You clearly admitted how betraying your sensei was no easy task.
LOCKDOWN
(shaking head in offense)
You got some serious spark plugs, Prowl. If you processor wasn't already glitchin' so bad, I'd bust it wide open.
PROWL
(pleased with himself)
Are you going to deny my observations after having just lectured me on communication?
LOCKDOWN
No…am about to drop the subject completely by (nudges his hook into Prowl's neck) rippin' your vocals out and sellin' em to an after hours chat service.
Prowl simply laughs at the threat.
LOCKDOWN
(mildly offended)
Think that's funny? I'll do it!
PROWL
(laughter settling down into a crooked grin)
If you did that, you would ironically become their most regular customer.
LOCKDOWN
(optics brighten fiercely)
Why you arrogant little…the spark you tryin' to say!?
Prowl turns away leaving the lividly ruffled bounty hunter to fester in his suspicions. He looks over the engine room with a playful smirk.
PROWL
This room is disgusting. I suppose lifting a servo to clean is below you.
The cocky ninja looks back over his shoulder to gloat in his teasing but quickly finds himself spun around and pushed forcefully against the engine block by one, very angry hand.
Lockdown presses upon the ninja and stops when only centimeters separate the two. He bears down on him with burning optics, further angered by the smirk that seems to have found a permanent home on Prowl's face.
LOCKDOWN
Don't you dare think you can waltz onto my ship and flick this attitude at me. I haven't agreed to a partnership yet and at the rate you're goin', I aint gonna! Foolish pride is a death sentence in my line of work and I sure as shit don't need ya--
The bounty hunter cuts himself off as he hears Prowls ventilation rate increase and feels the slim black chassis warm to match the heat radiating from the engine.
LOCKDOWN
(looking him up and down)
Spark's wrong with you?!
PROWL
(talking low but excited)
You carry on as if my arrogance bothers you, when in fact, it does quite the opposite.
It finally clicks in the bounty hunter's processor that the kid is playing at seduction and not antagonism, a sure sign that something was definitely off about him. Being a scoundrel, Lockdown's first instinct is to devour the ninja in a torrent of lust, but being the stubborn and proud old mech he is, he's not about to give in so easily.
LOCKDOWN
(not budging)
You don't have a clue what you're doin'. What's causin' you to glitch so hard? I have yet to see any trace of the Prowl I know.
The brazen ninja leans in, stretching as tall as he can to bring his face within dangerous proximity of a kiss.
PROWL
The Prowl you knew was a fool.
It takes everything in Lockdown's limited resources of self-control to hold back from consuming the Prowl's tiny smirk. He begins justifying what harm a little playing around could really do. Spark knows he's wanted this since the first time he laid optics on the ninja, but this isn't exactly the state he wants Prowl in for their first go. Regardless, he can't deny the heat rising in his core and rapidly shrinking space behind his interface panel.
LOCKDOWN
(still not budging)
You sure this is a door you wanna open?
Prowl dims his optics and slightly tilts his head, putting their lips even closer. The smell of low-grade energon teases his acute senses and sends a shudder down his chassis.
PROWL
(whisper)
I am here aren't I?
The ninja nips at the stiff bottom lip of the frowning, tattooed face with is parted, petite mouth.
A wave of want crashes over the bounty hunter. Glitched processor or not, the kid is hot. He looks, smells and feels like Prowl which is all he needs to give into his lust. He wastes no time gripping the back of the smooth black helm and pressing his hungry maw into the delicate creature. Prowl releases a moan which resonates inside the bounty hunter's mouth and teases a guttural purr from the mech.
Lockdown separates from the kiss just enough to point out the only negative aspect of the moment.
LOCKDOWN
(gravely whisper)
Dammit kid, you pick the worst time. The 'cons are expecting me--
PROWL
(breathless)
Then we had better be quick about this.
That's all the bounty hunter needs to hear. He presses back into the kiss then slides his hand and hook down the irresistible body, stopping at the light-colored hips. With a grunt, he heaves the skinny legs up to wrap around his waist.
Prowl responds accordingly and locks his wheeled feet behind the musclecar's back. He snakes his hands up the broadening back and wedges his fingers into the first available gap in the plating. He presses every inch of himself into Lockdown, squirming and arching to experiment as many angles of bodily contact as possible.
Both sparks throb heavily from behind the chest plates. Their energy build-up guides the harmonic moans, rhythmic grinding and searing heat pouring from the exhilarated bodies. Flicks of black, gold and green paint like dirty snowflakes drift down to floor beneath them.
Lockdown's growls grow louder as he breaks from the kiss and bites down on narrow neck, Prowl's holler exciting him more as he laps up the energon seeping from the fresh wound. The hunter's interface panel retracts and unsheathes a full, hungry spike. He presses it into the petite, beige pelvis pulling more sensual noises from the strangely animalistic ninja. Prowl's panel retracts revealing his own erect, lubricant-tipped spike. Lockdown feels it slide against his and his servos weaken from mind-numbing lust.
LOCKDOWN
Primus, you're hot!
Lockdown wraps his hand around Prowl's spike, spreading the fluid down from the tip and along the shaft. He slowly pumps it, reveling every wanton whimper escaping Prowl's mouth. The ninja tilts his back to lean on the engine block, his mouth parted and teeth clenching at each firm squeeze on his spike. He digs his fingers deeper, almost vengefully into the spiked back. Lockdown groans as the pain shoots down his chassis and causes his spike to release a dollop of fluid. His hand slides off the ninja's throbbing spike to make way for his own spike as it enters a tight, wet valve.
Prowl moans wildly, his valve clenching greedily around the bounty hunter's impressive girth. Lockdown begins with slow thrusts, dropping his gaze down to catch the processor glitching sight of his spike sliding in and out of the improbably valve. He presses their chassis tighter with each thrust making sure to feel the kid's spike press into his pelvis. His thumb, glistening with Prowl's lubricant traces over the tiny mouth then presses into it, forcing itself onto his glossa. Prowl shudders at the unexpected taste of himself and illuminates his optics to display his uncertainty with his partner's action.
Lockdown smiles deviously, pulling his thumb from the wet mouth and leaning in to taste the multiple flavors of Prowl from his tiny lips. His rhythm of thrusts increase steadily sending the ninja's responsive chassis slamming repeatedly into the engine block. His hook is now fastened around the narrow waist and his hand drifts down to squeezes a creamy, tight thigh.
Prowl bursts with loud, short moans each time his back slams into the wall. The nodes in his valuve are nearly numb with pleasure. His fingers claw into Lockdown circuitry invoking almost frightening noises from the musclecar. The gravely vocals penetrate into his mouth, traveling deeper to tease his engorged spark. The ninja cries out, ascending into overload, his chassis tensing and his legs clamping tight around Lockdown's waist. The hunter follows suit but vocalizes something frightening as his own overload tears through his chassis and fills Prowl's valve with hot transfluid.
LOCKDOWN
Ohhh Prowl...I want more of you.
The bounty hunter slides down to his knees, slipping his spike from the pool of fluids and pulling Prowl with him to the floor. He moves his hand from the ninja's thigh to brace himself against the wall, memorizing the feeling of the legs still wrapped tight around him. He lays Prowl down then retreats his tatooed face down between the slender thighs. Prowl is still basking in his after glow, half aware of the bounty hunter's actions until he feels a glossa teasing the drenched lining of his valve and a warm mouth close around his erect spike. Prowl archs his back and clenches his thighs, moaning unevenly as Lockdown's glossa teases his lubricated tip.
It takes only a few strategic passes of the hunter's glossa to send Prowl into a second overload. The kid's stuttering moans practically pull another 'load from Lockdown. If this creature under him was the typical pleasure model, he would make damn sure to get off at least twice, but strangely enough, the hunter is less concerned with his own physical greed in the moment. He brings himself up to meet Prowl's optics and leans his forehead against the golden chevron, his mouth parted and merely a breath away from the dark, prim pucker.
LOCKDOWN
(softly)
You have any idea how long I've wanted--
The bounty hunter catches himself before giving away too much and simply finishes the thought with a longing stare into the blue optic visor.
Prowl dims his optics and lays his head back against the floor, his mouth tilted in the tiniest of smirks. His hands drop to his tingling sides and his ventilation rate descends to a near-stasis level of relaxation.
Lockdown wants only to collapse onto his new…partner then drift into blissful stasis, but the thought of the 'cons walking into such a scene instantly sobers him of such fantasies. He regretfully heaves himself to his feet, accepting the closure of their interlude and standing over Prowl with a feeling he can't quite interpret. He sighs with an aged growl as he soaks in the unlikely visage of the kid's beautifully sprawled body upon his engine room's floor. It takes all his will to turn and walk away, muttering a feeble attempt at regaining his gruff composure.
LOCKDOWN
Damned little punk.