Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Codes: Crossover, Slash, Violence
Summary:
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Notes: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles
~text~ bond/hardline talk
::text:: comm chatter
At All Costs 19: Battle of Hive City
Prowl rested contentedly on the berth, Jazz curled against his chassis after several pleasurable rounds of interfacing. Neither of them was anywhere near spent, but for a moment Prowl was content to savor the pleasant feelings still running through his frame.
He had been worried that Jazz would not have followed again, his most recent move after several vorns of stability having happened rather abruptly. But the small silver mech had been waiting for him in his quarters when he had arrived late from his shift, prepared to take his lover's processors off the stress weighing on him.
Prowl nuzzled at Jazz, nipping and teasing at a sensor horn and smiling as he felt Jazz respond, engine revving and hands playing over the Praxian's chest plates suggestively. It had been a while since-
Harsh alarms cut through his thoughts, planning and pleasure, changing Prowl's though process instantly.
It put on clear display just how much Prowl had changed since becoming a Decepticon as well. Where as once he and Jazz would have had matching reactions - to cower in the corner and try to hide - Prowl was on his pedes and ready to fight with the calm readiness of a warrior with vorns of battlefield experience and a cool expectation that he's survive this as well.
"What's going on?" Jazz whimpered, looking towards the larger mech for direction and protection.
"Base is under attack." Prowl growled, already tapping into the appropriate communication networks for details as he sub-spaced the daggers and blaster that were always close at hand any more.
"I need to go." He turned to Jazz, stealing a moment for the mech he loved, reaching out to pull Jazz to him. "Autobots, I don't know the details. Stay here. I'll be back if I can."
Jazz captured his mouth in a frightened, desperate kiss. "I can hide from the law with the best of them," he said, though it had the ring of trying to ease Prowl's processors more than the truth. "You survive." He insisted as he let the Praxian go.
Prowl was silent as he laid a spare blade on the berth by Jazz. Even if the small mech didn't fight, a good blade had many uses. "I intend to." He growled softly, and was gone.
Jazz sat on the berth for a torturously long breem until he heard far more chaos than an unannounced drill could produce. Cautiously he climbed up the wall using his palm mags and loosened the vent cover so he could crawl in. With Soundwave on another base there was little likelihood of vent patrols, but as Jazz he had a good excuse to be in there right now - he was scared and hiding.
The sounds of fighting and chaos echoed through the vents, explosions, fighting, cries of pain, and then the sound of Prowl's voice in a lull, barking orders in a tone that he never used around Jazz. One that commanded respect and demanded obedience.
It was enough to make Jazz shiver in desire and struggle to focus on his sabotage mission. He continued to work his way through the vents until they became too cramped even for his small frame.
He focused inward and a shimmer of energy passed along his frame, lengthening his chassis and protoform, adding dozens of much shorter legs all along the serpentine frame and changing his helm into a vicious set of mandibles strong enough to crush many a frontliner's armor. He knew where he was going and could only pray that his current intel was correct and Shockwave was elsewhere.
The scientist's lab/workshop was a land of horrors that had to be destroyed.
Very few went knew what went on in there, only seeing the results that emerged and not really wanting to know how they were created. It was a subject even Prowl avoided once he had been informed it did not concern him.
Apparently Megatron was not troubled by method, only by result, since the lab was buried in the center of the base, well protected and well shielded.
Jazz, or rather Slitherquick, bit the air vent apart and climbed into the room before shifting into his favored form. The one living being in the room to watch stared in mute shock as the multi-legged serpent stood into a short black, white and gold Praxian with three sensor wing segments and a deep purple visor. Meister wasn't worried. He'd assessed the mech's condition before he'd even entered the lab and he knew a blaster to the spark was the best he could do to the poor mangled being that was barely more than a spark chamber, complete helm and critical systems.
It was quick and merciful, a kind end in light of what he had most likely suffered. The lab was organized, methodically so with individual project workstations and one central location for data storage.
Meister headed for the data chamber, withdrew a quick-copy unit and made short work of hooking it up and set it to work while he moved on to setting charges at the stations to make sure nothing could be recovered from this place.
His thoroughness would certainly raise questions as to how later, but since there would be no evidence left behind it hardly mattered. He was finished before the copy unit, the storage center a mass of information and a clue as to just how long Shockwave had been operating there. Meister took grim satisfaction in removing this laboratory of the obscene.
When the mass storage copier beeped its job completed Meister disconnected it and plugged himself into Shockwave's central control to upload half a dozen viral messengers, intended to shatter the scientific database and every system it was connected to.
With the data safely tucked in a special subspace that couldn't be accessed as Jazz, Meister made an easy leap to the duct opening, transforming into Slitherquick while he was at it to head for the brig.
The brig was one ring out from the labs, securely buried and serving a double purpose. It was extra cushion for times like this to protect the labs, and convenient access for Shockwave when he was in need of raw materials.
Meister grumbled to himself as he accessed the prisoner log. It was amazing the Cons could field such forces when half their brig was full of their own people during a major assault on the base. With a grateful thought that the guards had been called on to defend the base, he began a systematic prowl through the complex ring of cells. Ones with all Decepticons were ignored, ones with all Autobots/Neutrals were opened and given a quick briefing on events and the way out that his fellow agents had prepared, those with mixed contents...
The short black, white and gold Praxian stopped in front of a cell and spread his three sensor wing segments as he took in the state of the Autobot and his two Decepticon cellmates. His deep purple visor locked on the Decepticons after assessing the condition of the Autobot.
The pair didn't seem to be in the best of shape themselves, but they were still much better off than their Autobot cellmate. The mech was barely functioning, even though on the surface his frame seemed intact.
The Decepticons shifted, optics moving from the identifying mark on the mech to weapon in his hand.
"So who's to thank for his state?" Meister nodded towards his faction mate.
Without comment both of the Decepticons blamed the other, fingers pointing and hoping that it would be enough that the intimidating mech would believe one of them.
"Good enough," Meister grumbled and fired one shot into each spark chamber before opening the cell to find out if the Autobot was going to survive or if he should be put down.
The mech in question was not as bad as he had first appeared, his weakness the result of low energy. The Decepticons, if they had been in there with the intent to torture, had not gotten very deep. Most of the damage was superficial, stripped and shredded plating and frayed wires the most visible damage.
Meister muttered wordlessly and took out a cube of energon from his subspace to hold it to the mech's mouth. "Drink."
::Blue Ghost, Black Death, status?:: he commed his companions who were supposed to be in the brig helping out.
::Three Cons still in cells, five Autobots and three Neutrals freed, two Autobots grayed,:: Mirage responded.
::Five, two, six and six,:: Whiplash added. ::Almost to you. Found our target yet?::
::Negative,:: Meister responded.
The mech drank greedily, gulping it down as fast as he could without a care as to what it might do to his systems.
When most of the cube was consumed and the mech's systems reasonably energized, Meister clicked for his attention. "Designation, function, cadre."
Reluctantly the mech stopped, optics revealing just how desperate he had been for the energon. "Designation: Reset. Function: Systems maintenance. Tyger Pax."
He waited, not entirely sure of his own fate at the moment. Same faction or not, the mech before had just executed two other mechs without so much as a hint of regret.
"Finish," Meister pressed the cube to his mouth again. "Your legs functional?"
"Functional enough." Was the reply, hope filling the mechs voice as he finished off the cube and Meister helped him stand. "Won't be very fast, but I can move. They hadn't gotten that far yet."
"Good. Take this route out," he data burst the base map and route that had been cleared and held. "I'll see if others can help, but no one's in good shape here."
A moment to analyze the data and Reset nodded in understanding, thankful for the fact that he even had a chance. Gathering his coordination he started for the door, pausing to lean on the doorframe, and looked back. "Thank you."
"Thank how much Prime values Lock Phase," Meister snorted as he moved on to the next cell. "He's why we're here in force enough to free everyone."
The next cell was a loss, containing two grayed frames, one either long forgotten or left as a warning to the other occupants of the cell block. With a shrug Meister moved on.
"Gotcha," he grinned as he spotted the single occupant of the next cell. "Lock Phase."
The lone occupant was restrained but otherwise in good condition, a novel sight in the Decepticon cellblock where even Decepticons didn't fare well.
"Either 'Wave been at you yet?" Meister asked as he worked the lock.
"No, but if the rumors and the taunting of the low bit excuses for guards are to be believed I was next on the list, as soon as one of them returned." Was the rather unimpressed response.
"Be glad they were occupied elsewhere," Meister told him as the door slid open and he strode smoothly in. Without preamble Meister took out a data cable from his wrist and plugged into a port on the back of Lock Phase's helm.
Lock Phases defenses were relatively light, and he didn't attempt to keep Meister out at all. He was telling the truth - captured and hauled around like a piece of cargo, but other than that kept in reasonable condition until he could be turned over to one of the intel masters.
After a few moments he shifted, looking to catch the other mechs attention. "You going to free me or not?"
"Yap," Meister said as he withdrew and unlocked the shackles. ::Got him and he's clean.:: he transmitted to the other agents. "Let's get out of here," he added as a shimmer became a light blue and white mech. "Go with Blue Ghost."
Lock Phase took a moment to unkink his joints, flexing them back into working order and staring openly at the mech that has magically appeared before him before setting off with a shrug. "Gladly. Anything to be free of here."
Prowl slipped back through the base, avoiding ally and foe alike as he went along. The orders to retreat still carried across the communication lines he was monitoring, but for the moment he ignored them. He had already sent the mechs he had been leading on ahead, he was still not high enough in the scheme of command that his physical presence was required at the gather points just yet, and as soon as he collected Jazz he would join them.
Reaching his quarters he keyed the door, scanning the room as he entered, and froze.
The room was empty.
Jazz was gone. The dagger was gone. No sign of a fight or even an Autobot investigation.
He stepped fully into the room and allowed the door to slid shut. A small sound caught his attention and lifted his optics and sensors towards the ceiling near the far wall.
"Prowl?" a tiny, frightened voice called out.
Training and habit had his finger resting on the trigger of his blaster as he scanned the direction of the sound. It sounded like Jazz, but until he was sure..."Jazz?"
Quiet, calm, the question delivered evenly and soothingly and hiding the first flickers of hopeful relief in Prowl.
The air vent was popped out, left hanging by a small silver hand and Jazz cautiously stuck his head out of the vent. His visor flared with relief when he saw Prowl and all but launched himself at the larger mech.
Prowl caught him easily, blaster stowed in nanoklik as hands ran over the smaller mech's frame in search of injury or damage and completely ignoring the fact that Prowl himself was scraped and dented, energon leaking from shrapnel wounds across his back and sensor wings as he checked Jazz over and held him.
"Interesting, if effective, hiding place."
"Told you I can hide with the best of them," Jazz shivered in relief before shifting to kiss his lover. "Do you need to see Hook, or just minor injuries?"
Prowl shifted his sensor wings so Jazz could see. "A visit to Hook will be in order eventually, but for now I believe it would be best if we move. We are abandoning the base to the Autobots and regrouping outside the city limits."
Jazz's visor flashed bright in fright. "You shouldn't have come back for me. The Autobots know I'm just a pleasurebot. They wouldn't hurt me," he tried to squirm down to land on his pedes. "My escapes are too small for you," he added quietly.
Prowl frowned both at the words and at the fright, releasing him to land gently. "I can make it back out again. They move slowly. And seem to have no problem hurting you when it suits them." The slightest bit of a growl there at the end, quickly controlled.
"Only when I'm paid for it, same as here," Jazz tried to soothe him, even if just to focus on the situation. "I'm a Neutral. You are most definitely not."
"I came back to make sure you were all right." A hint of personal pain crept into his voice. "I can leave you to make your own way if you prefer."
"No," Jazz shook his head sharply and reached up for a kiss. "I don't want to leave you. Just don't want you at more risk. Let's go, please."
Prowl kissed him, strong and deep, then pulled back. There was wisdom in Jazz's words, and sense in them as well. With a quick nudge at Jazz's helm he retrieved his sidearm and headed out again, pausing long enough to make sure the silver mech was following him.
Their route was thankfully mostly deserted, and the few that they did encounter were Decepticons that Prowl passed along the retreat orders to, directing them to make their own way out and instructions for after they were clear.
Part of his attention was always on the mech at his side, making sure he was safe and near at hand. He quickly realized he didn't need to worry. Though Jazz used some kind of sense to stay just outside of the range Prowl needed to move freely, the silver mech never went more than Prowl's arm's reach away. It seemed that Jazz did indeed have reasonable survival instincts, even if they weren't of the combat kind.
During the tension-filled trek to a back exit, Prowl noted that his dagger was in Jazz's hand. It wasn't held very well either. Perhaps enough if his opponent was just as clueless, but not against even an Autobot rookie.
"Here," Prowl paused and corrected Jazz's grip. "You'll want to strike upwards with both hands into a gap in the armor. A leg or pelvic seam."
"Or interface panel," Jazz looked at him with a grim kind of humor. "The cover's soft, thin and the sensor load is huge."
Sensor panels twitched at the suggestion even as Prowl nodded in approval and agreement. "And if it come down to it, leave the blade." He could do without the spares he carried. Jazz needed them more than he did.
Satisfied, Prowl turned his attention back to the exit, extending all of his senses as far beyond the opening as he could. There was little chance the Autobots had made it back here in force yet, but there was a reason that Prowl was still functioning as well.
Caution kept him so, and would serve well to keep the mech he was determined to protect functioning as well.
Ahead of them, a mech struggling to move down the corridor. Not leaking energon, but damaged and weak.
Tension filled Prowl as he identified the stranger's faction, then eased some as the rest of his readings came back. The mech between them and the exit was barely able to stay upright, and certainly in no condition to offer them any harm.
He glanced back at Jazz, weighing his options quickly as his spark and functioning argued with his orders. He saw the silver mech making his own calculations and come to a decision.
"He can't hurt us in that condition," Jazz glanced up at his lover. "Take him as a shield or leave him be, knock him out?"
"Leave him." Prowl decided quietly, moving again with the intent to avoid the injured mech. "The base is lost and we are most likely close to the last out. His own will find him soon enough, if he waits."
Which meant that they needed to be on the move, since being discovered was the last thing Prowl wanted or needed. Jazz might be immune to their wrath, but he was certainly not.
And he had no evidence that said that the silver minibot would be safe if they were to find him in Prow's immediate company. Prowl's own faction seemed to feel little grief over 'collateral damage' when the target was valuable.
The emergency exit had been blown open from the inside, likely by a Decepticon that couldn't get it open fast enough. One step into the outside world and Prowl froze again. His sensor wings flared and swept, trying to pinpoint the sensor ghost that set his nerves on edge.
"Come on," Jazz tried to get him to move.
"Someone out there." Prowl growled softly by way of explanation, the presence tickling his sensors not one he recognized as he scanned the area again. So close to relatively safety it was enough to cause frustration if Prowl had been willing to allow it to distract him.
Optics swept the battered landscape as his sensors finally settled on a general direction of the threat, and his tactical computer provided a mostly covered way to work around the threat.
"This way." He instructed, touching Jazz just enough to guide the smaller mech so that Prowl's larger and combat ready frame was between the silver mech and the possible threat.
Jazz nodded and followed the subtle directions flawlessly. He may not be combat trained but he was programmed and highly trained to read and respond to a client's desires and subtle signals.
The entire walk was tense but uneventful, and it turned out to be Jazz whose optic sweep picked up the Decepticons ahead of them first.
Prowl responded instantly to Jazz's first sign he needed the mech's attention, his own optics sweeping over those gathered, ranking those present in his head and trying to determine who was in charge. With a sinking sensation he quickly realized that aside from a couple competent enlisted squad leaders, he was it.
He had not been the senior officer on base before and what was before him was just a step above chaos. Prowl wasn't CTO for nothing, however, and while personnel and field command might not be his function, organizing definitely was.
What this group needed now more than anything was organization and planning.
Prowl set his processors to the task, pushed his vocalizer to max and gave the sharp three-tone whistle that demanded attention. While he was privately pleased compliance came quick with mechs facing him and little hint of a challenge to his fully spread sensor wings, none of that showed in his stance, features or voice.
"All Decepticons, join your cadres in formation now," he bellowed, doing a fair impression of Megaton. "Any cadre with less than three members, front and left."
His attention split without effort, a small part focused on keeping track of his lover, part of it focused forward to make sure that his orders were being followed correctly, and a great deal given to what to do next.
They had to move out of here before the Autobots reached them, for Prowl had no doubt they were coming, if for no other reason than to finish leveling the base. And by default it seemed that it was now his responsibility to get everyone away and the to closest Decepticon held territory.
"What's the plan of attack?" one of the squad leaders, Tempest if Prowl's files were correct, half asked, half demanded.
"Retreat, as ordered." Prowl responded smoothly taking a quick count as he answered. "Quickly and orderly to join up with the rest of our forces."
Twenty-six, including himself and Jazz. Twenty-six out of nearly two hundred.
12% survivors. Easily the worst defeat in Decepticon history.
"If a superior officer doesn't show up soon, you're going to take the blame for this mess," Jazz whispered, his voice full of dread for Prowl as the more compliant cadres began to move out as directed.
Prowl kept his optics trained on the others, sensor wings giving the briefest of shrugs. It had to be done, one way or another. "It will not be the first time."
Jazz's field brushed against his, expressing what the minibot didn't dare to out loud as Prowl's glare got Tempest to move out. Fear, grief, regret... "I hope I see you again, Prowl."
The Praxian's field flared in response as soon as the others were far enough away, filled acceptance, duty, matching hope of his own and quiet confidence.
"Be well Jazz." Prowl responded quietly, the full wish of his spark behind it, as he set off after his charges while Jazz slipped away to blend into the city and the civilians he technically was one of.