PLEASE NOTE that this story has been heavily revised and reworked since the first version was posted. New material has been added, and a lot of the old stuff has been changed drastically.
Author's note: This is a story that I've had on my mind for quite a while but never got around to write until now. Slightly AU in that Jazz is a Decepticon, otherwise it's G1. Prowl/Jazz later on.
Warnings: Story contains slash.
Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me in any shape or way.
So the Autobots had managed to bring the power back on. The sudden brightness almost blinded his optics at first, and he briefly half off-lined them to give them time to adjust. Then he quickly scanned the corridor, looking for the detectors he was certain had to be there.
He couldn't see any. He knew where to look for such things, knew where they would usually be hidden, but to his relief, there seemed to be none.
Perhaps he was out of the holding area section altogether, even though he had no idea where he was at the moment. That had to be the reason the security was so low. He allowed himself to relax a bit. He had, after all, managed to get this far and, to the best of his knowledge, still remained undetected.
But the power return also had him worried, as much of a relief as it was to finally be able to see his surroundings again. It was not a wild bet that somebody, even though nobody had apparently thought to do so yet, would go to check on the prisoner now that the power was back on. Even if the Autobots were too dim to remember the fact that the holding cell bars would not work without electricity, they still might decide to check up on things, just in case.
He looked around again. That way, he decided quickly, hurrying up his pace now that he didn't have to worry about running straight into a wall or some other hard object.
After having made a right-turn, the corridor ended with a somewhat imposing door. Jazz scanned it critically; there was clearly a sensor rigged to it. The moment he would try to open it, an alarm would go off, alerting every 'Bot in the Ark to his whereabouts. Normally, it would have been a simple routine measure to deactivate it, but tool-less as he was, he knew he had no choice but to head back and try to find another way.
He hurried back through the corridor and then turned the other way instead of the one he had originally come from, hoping luck would be more generous there. Then all the energon in his system suddenly froze.
An alarm had gone off. A vicious, screeching wail was filling the area he was standing in, effectively nailing his feet to the ground in terror. Maybe he should have expected it to happen – and deep down he probably had – but actually hearing the sound came as a total shock. He knew that he hadn't set anything off himself – he was too professional not to have discovered whatever detectors and sensors the Autobots had put up – but somebody, maybe Prowl, must have visited his cell to check on things. And then he had alerted his fellow Autobots.
He was deep into it now. Most likely every Autobot within the Ark was at the very moment armed to their teeth and in full search of the escapee. And they had surely activated their entire security system by now, which would show them his position on the Teletraan-1 screen. It wouldn't be long before they reached him.
Panic surged through him, threatening to overtake his systems. When the Autobots found him... well, it didn't take a genius to figure out what they would probably do to him. The only question was whether they would make the process short or drag it out. If it was Ironhide who found him first – and it was not at all unlikely that he would, considering the predictable eagerness with which he was sure to have joined in the search and chase for the escaped Decepticon – it would probably be the latter.
Jazz turned and ran blindly. He had no idea where he was going; he just knew that he couldn't be standing around any longer – that would be a death sentence as certain as anything. He wasn't bothering looking out for detectors anymore; the Autobots already knew his location and setting off another alarm would make no difference. The time for carefulness was long gone.
He reached another door and flung it open. An empty storage area greeted him, but he hardly noticed it; he just continued running towards the door at the other end, hoping it would lead him in the right direction.
But before he could reach it, the door opened. And right before Jazz's optics, in stepped three Autobots, led by none other than Ironhide.
Jazz skidded to a halt, and made to turn and run back to where he had come from, before any of the 'Bots would have the time to fire at him.
"Hold it right there, ya piece of slag!" he heard Ironhide yell behind him, followed by the sound of several laser guns being powered up. Jazz had no intention of obeying the command; it only made him run faster in the desperate hope that he would reach the door looming in front of him before it was too late.
The sharp hiss of a laser shot speeding past him made the energon in his fuel lines run cold, but he continued his sprint for freedom nonetheless, hoping the Autobots would be as lousy shots as they were on the battlefield.
They weren't. The next shot hit him right in the knee joints, and he fell, tumbling ungracefully on the floor. He struggled to get up, but his legs were like numb scrap parts, refusing to obey him. His mind dimly concluded that the rifle must have been set on stun, since he didn't register any pain. Desperately, he tried to crawl forwards, using only his arms since his lower body half was no longer responding, already knowing the futility of any continued efforts, and yet refusing to give up.
"I said, 'hold it'," an angry voice growled somewhere above him as a pair of red feet came into view. Jazz halted, panting heavily as his fists clenched into tight balls. He'd been so close... He let his forehead rest against the floor, all fight leaving him to make way for weary, mind-crushing resignation.
A foot inched under Jazz's chassis and nonchalantly flipped him over onto his back. An astrosecond later, the barrel of a rifle was pointing into his face.
So this was the end then. He resisted the impulse to off-line his optics; at least he would meet his end like a true Decepticon and show the 'Bots that he wasn't afraid of them.
Granted, he was terrified, and as much as he hoped it didn't show, it was probably quite evident to each of the three 'Bots who were surrounding him, weapons at the ready.
"So ya thought ya'd take the opportunity to escape and send us all out chasin' around the Ark for your sorry aft, huh?" the red 'Bot growled. The hand holding his rifle twitched.
As scared as Jazz might be, the certainty that he was just seconds away from getting blasted into eternity no matter what was enough to give him a bit of his courage back. It wasn't as if anything mattered now anyway. He made a grab for the gun, futilely trying to wrest it away from the other mech's grasp.
His efforts were rewarded with a snarl, followed by a foot that stomped down on his chest, effectively pinning him to the ground. The sudden pressure made Jazz wince and he wriggled, but froze when the cold barrel of Ironhide's gun pressed into his forehead, and there was a soft click.
"A word of warning, 'Con – this rifle isn't set on stun anymore," the red mech said menacingly as he towered over his hapless captive.
Jazz didn't reply. He just laid on the floor, still and unmoving, wondering if he should be glad that Ironhide hadn't just finished him on the spot or not.
Then the door was flung open once again, and another group of Autobots entered, this time led by Prowl. Ironhide looked up and then nodded towards his commanding officer.
"We got 'im. Can't believe how far the little glitch made it, though..." He looked down on Jazz again, a disdainful sneer on his face.
"Well done, Ironhide," Prowl nodded, approaching the little scene.
"Had to tase him before he'd comply," Ironhide muttered sourly. "I tell ya, Prowl, this one should be kept in chains!"
The Second in Command inspected the unmoving captive before straightening up and issuing orders. "Alright, two of you take the prisoner back to his cell. The rest of you make sure that he hasn't done any damage to the Ark's systems on his way here."
Ironhide along with Beachcomber bent down and grabbed an arm each and pulled Jazz to his feet. Half-dragging the Decepticon between them, seeing as how Jazz was unable to walk properly, they followed Prowl as he exited and led the way towards the holding cell area.
Jazz let himself be dragged along; as demeaning as it was being handled like this, the effect of the stun lingered and his legs still refused to obey him. But he didn't care about that. Bitter disappointment was flowing through him in waves; he had been so close and yet he had failed. He had gotten an almost unbelievable chance and he had blown it. Now security would be tightened, making it harder than ever before to escape.
Given that they didn't just off-line him now, of course. Perhaps his escape attempt had been the final straw, and Prowl's patience with his prisoner had run out. As the rush from the escape was wearing off, fear for his immediate future was now coming back in spades. As calm as Prowl seemed on the surface, inside he had to be furious with Jazz's escape attempt and the major disruption it had caused the Ark and its crew. He slumped between the two Autobots, fearfully remembering the propaganda yet again.
After quite a bit of walking, or of being dragged in Jazz's case, they reached the holding cell area. Prowl activated the sensor to the cell's bars, and the two Autobots holding Jazz entered with him, and subsequently dumped their load onto the ground. Prowl followed.
Jazz made an effort to push himself up into a half-sitting position; at least he would face whatever was coming looking his captors straight in the optics instead of crawling on the ground. That was all there was left for him to do in order to try to salvage whatever little pride he still had left.
Ironhide, who was standing right next to him, looked with disdain on the heap on the floor, muttering sourly to himself. "Slaggin' 'Cons are nothing but trouble... fragging' little glitch..."
"Alright, that's enough, Ironhide," Prowl admonished. "You and Beachcomber may leave now."
Not saying another word, the two 'Bots excited the cell, Ironhide somewhat unwillingly and Beachcomber more readily, glad to finally get to leave. The blue 'Bot couldn't help but to feel a bit sorry for the Decepticon. He'd been so close to make it to freedom, but in the end, all his efforts had amounted to nothing. Not that the Autobot normally rooted for the opposite team, but this was different. Sure Jazz was a Decepticon and all, but right now he seemed quite harmless. Pitiful even. He certainly didn't envy the position Jazz was in, the mere thought of getting captured by the Decepticons was enough to make Beachcomber cringe. He hoped Prowl wouldn't be too hard on the 'Con. He hurried his steps, eager to go and find some of his friends to make his uneasy mood lighten up again.
Prowl looked on as Jazz pushed himself up again and then leaned against the wall for support. He was quite angry with the Decepticon prisoner. The unexpected power outage had been bad enough, and they had worked hard to find the problem and resolve it. Wheeljack had even gotten himself electrocuted in the process – granted, it was nothing really serious, but he would remain in medbay for a couple of days before he'd be fully recovered. And amidst all the chaos, Prowl had suddenly remembered – the bars to Jazz's cell only worked as long as the electricity did.
He had hurried to the holding cells, hoping that the same thought hadn't crossed Jazz's mind. A Decepticon loose in the Ark... that would be bad. To his dismay, his fears had proved to be true; upon his arrival, Jazz's cell had been gaping as emptily as had the others. He had immediately sounded the alarm, alerting his fellow Autobots to the escape.
Ironhide had of course only been too happy for the opportunity to go on a Decepticon hunt, and it wasn't a surprise that it was his group that had found the escapee first. Prowl had been informed of it through a transmission from Beachcomber, so he had hurried there to make sure that Jazz would still be functional when he arrived. Sure, he had given the order that the prisoner should, if at all possible, be taken alive, but Ironhide was probably the most trigger-happy mech in the Ark, so one never knew with him. Not that he would intentionally go against Prowl's orders, but sometimes eagerness and overzealous-ness had been known to get the better of the red mech.
And he couldn't have the 'Con permanently off-lined. If nothing else, Prowl still had interrogations to carry out with him.
He was quite relieved now that Jazz had been recaptured and was back in his cell. It certainly would not have reflected well on Prowl if the prisoner had escaped. But it had been too close for comfort; if Jazz had known his way around the Ark he might very well have made it out.
Indeed, he would see to it that additional security measures were taken, and the bars to the holding cell would definitely be connected to the emergency power supply, no doubt about it. This would not happen again, what with the entire crew running around fully armed in their own headquarters looking for an escaped Decepticon. What an undignified, ridiculous farce it had been. He glared daggers at Jazz, the cause of all this commotion.
The other mech seemed to shrink as he met with Prowl's optics, and as much as he valiantly tried to appear courageous, his fear was all too obvious. Whatever it was he expected Prowl to do with him, it surely wasn't pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps it wasn't too different from the thoughts that Prowl had himself not-really-seriously entertained in his anger on the way down here. If so, it was no wonder that Jazz was worried.
Still though, as much as the Decepticon's escape had ticked him off, Prowl found that he couldn't really blame him. What would he himself had done if he, Primus forbid, had found himself captured by Decepticons? He would of course have grabbed any chance, however slim, that presented itself with both hands. It was no wonder that Jazz had done the same thing. Anyone would have.
His anger subsided somewhat. He wasn't going to punish the 'Con for his escape attempt. Not this time.
He crouched down before Jazz, coming optics to optics with him. Jazz flinched a little, but otherwise didn't move.
"I will only say this once. This will not happen again. I will let it slide this time, but any similar attempts, and there will be... consequences." he said as menacingly as he could. What exactly those consequences entailed he would let Jazz imagine for himself; it would probably prove more effective than anything Prowl could come up with. He wasn't an imaginative mech by any means.
"Is that clear?" he added, having given Jazz enough time to come up with the appropriate mental pictures to match Prowl's words.
Jazz merely nodded. He could still not believe that Prowl would let him off this easily, but it was obvious that he would be in for it if he ever went for a similar stunt again and got caught. But he supposed it didn't matter in the end anyway, it wasn't as if he would ever get another chance with all the additional security that Prowl was now sure to have installed in the Ark.
Prowl seemed satisfied with the non-verbal reply, and he stood up. "I will be back tomorrow to continue our interrogation from where we left off last time. Until then, I hope the futility of any future endeavors of this kind will have become clear to you, if they haven't already."
After Prowl had left, Jazz slumped down on the floor again. Even if the effects from the stun were wearing off, his body was still unpleasantly unresponsive. Not to mention, the energy rush that had put his body into a highly alert state during his escape attempt was now all gone, leaving him empty and drained, apart from the disappointment that flooded his processor. Well, at least Prowl hadn't beaten him into a scrap heap, he thought, trying to see the positive side of things. It could have been so much worse. At least he was still alive and functional, for whatever it was worth in his current position.
Still, the bitter taste of defeat and failure lingered until he finally went into recharge, mercifully relieving him, if only temporarily, from his distressing thoughts.