Fandom: Transformers G1/Bayverse
Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Meister
Rating: NC-17 mech/mech
Codes: Crossover, Slash, Rape, Violence, Death
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 37: Freedom of the Hunt
Meister smiled privately as he finished sorcelling into the form of the guard he'd taken down. He plugged into the mech's dataport and began downloading everything useful-looking. Designation, rank, duties, access, who he knew and how well, maps of the base and everything else.
This was going to be exhilarating. It has been ages since he'd had such a target. A shiver passed through his now bulkier, deep gray form.
Shockwave was deeply embedded in this base. It had been one of his strongholds for vorns, even if it had only recently come to light. A place where the mad scientist felt as secure as he did anywhere. And the perfect place to finally lay him to rest.
Convenient too was the fact that the duty cycle was just getting ready to change over, with the mech whose identity Meister now owned going off shift. He casually finished Drummer's patrol, nodded to the right mechs, entered the right codes at doors and proceeded to follow Drummer's usual pattern and joined several mechs for energon after shift.
It wasn't the good stuff that Jazz enjoyed, or even as good as what Autobot grunts in Iacon enjoyed for that matter, but it fuelled a frame.
It also allowed for all of the latest gossip, some of it entertaining, most of it boring, but all of it useful in it's own way.
Shortages here, an attack there, and rumors that Megatron might order Shockwave to move again. It was said that the large mech had been much displeased with the last forced move, which had occurred in the middle of several ongoing projects and interrupted the mad scientists' research.
It all gave him something to do while he waited for an opportune moment to sneak in and strike. Preferably the time when Shockwave would be in recharge. According to Prowl's notes that would be in another three joors this orn.
Of course Shockwave had to be perfectly efficient ... by functioning on a cycle based on his frame's needs rather than existing on a schedule dictated by social needs and conventions like most mechs. It made him easier to predict but much more difficult to actually attack in recharge. Especially since he did not insist that the rest of the base conform to his schedule, so long as when a mech was summoned he appeared promptly and with the hope that he would emerge once more.
So he killed the joors socializing and generally enjoying the ability to have a frame once more. A quick 'face with a mech that was soon graying, his processors shredded from the inside as Meister overloaded. Another dozen killed in different ways just for the enjoyment of experiencing each way of killing again.
Meister had no intention of letting anything within this base be alive when he walked out, and as many of those as possible would be up close and personal.
It was just more fun that way, being able to experience that moment of terror when his victims actually figured what was happening and that they had reached the end of their pitiful existence.
Methodically destroying each personally gave him more options too. More identities and shapes to wreak havoc with during his fun, even an occasional new skill or bit of really useful information.
He shivered in excitement as it came time to fry Shockwave. What to do to him though? A processor like that would be a glorious experience to ravage, the frame a delightful one to have access to. That intel that mech must have ... Meister suppressed a moan of arousal.
The mechs personal space was deep inside the base, shielded from the outside like every place the mech claimed as his own. Difficult to reach by attack, but for a single mech that now had practically complete access to the entire base and was already inside?
Simplicity.
For a short moment Meister stood before the recharging giant purple mech. So many things he wanted to do. Send him to Primus with no clue what ended him. Tear his processors apart slowly, enjoying the erotic kill.
In a moment that Meister would deny for the rest of his existence, the choice was made by his host. A powerful antimatter bomb was magnetized to Shockwave's frame just above his spark chamber, then glued by one of Wheeljack's concoctions into place.
It was enough to snap the giant out of recharge. His single yellow optic locked onto Meister's Praxian frame.
Not surprise, as he had become accustomed to when one of his victims was suddenly and abruptly made aware of his presence. In fact there was little initial reaction beyond the feeling of cold detached analysis being applied to the intruder and the situation.
Priority one: Keep his own frame intact. If this one was destroyed, it could be a very long time before he got another.
That meant getting out of the bomb's blast range before it went off in six nanokliks.
A time constraint which the large purple mech suddenly seemed to notice as well, his attention suddenly transferred from the intruder to the device glued to his chest plate and set to explode, taking his spark and his entire frame with it.
"Bye, bye, Shocky," Meister said cheerfully before leaping forward to take advantage of the distraction to take Shockwave's helm as a trophy. He was already bolting for the door and enough distance to save himself when he hit the ground in alt mode and full throttle.
If there was anything left of the mech after the explosion that tailed him out the door one would not have been able to find it with normal optics, which had been his entire intent all along.
His orders had only been to get rid of the mech, permanently and beyond recovery. The means and method been left up to him completely, another sort of freedom he was unaccustomed to any more.
When the explosion detonated Meister was a safe distance away and enjoying the chaos he had sown to pick off the rest of the mechs on base.
He was never going back to that prison.
He'd been putting it off, trying to deal with it himself, but there reached a point where even he was willing admit defeat. And Ratchet had offered any time Prowl felt like he needed to talk, or just needed the company.
Prowl stood outside the door and sent a single request. If the medic didn't respond Prowl wouldn't hold it against him. Ratchet had spent a lot of time in medical lately putting mechs back together from a bad round of skirmishes, and Prowl hadn't tried to comm ahead to see if he was welcome.
He really should have known better. The door opened before he'd even finished contemplating why it shouldn't. No one was in the entry room, though.
::Be out in a klik or two,:: Ratchet commed him. ::Help yourself to the high grade if you want.::
He didn't wait to be invited twice, even if he did feel obliged to ask as he headed for the place where he knew Ratchet stored his personal stash of good high grade. ::I'm not intruding am I? Keeping you from recharge?::
Never mind that no matter how hard he tried or how low his energy levels Prowl was recharging poorly himself, just maintaining enough to function without giving himself away.
::Cleaning up after surgery,:: Ratchet supplied. ::You can come in and talk here if you want. I can give you something to help the recharge cycles pass easier until he comes back.::
Prowl wandered back to the privacy of Ratchets personal washrack, a small amount of high grade in hand. "I am that obvious?"
"Only to those who know you well," Ratchet chuckled. "Besides, if you were recharging well given the circumstances, I'd want to do some serious checking in your processors. I don't know a lot about him, but I do know Black Echo well enough to be very disturbed by anyone he calls a monster, The Terror of Cybertron, being loose."
Prowl sighed, swirling the high grade as memories of the personality that was using Jazz's frame and spark rose. "You should be."
"Anything you can tell me?" Ratchet slowed his cleaning as he devoted more attention to his guest.
"The Meister profile is very ... disturbing. I met it this time, before it left." Prowl murmured, sensor wings quivering for a moment. "I will be glad when it is locked back up and Jazz is home and safe."
"You, me and every mech on this planet," Ratchet grumbled. "That's one cyber-wolf that won't stay on its chain much longer. Even Black Echo admits it's about time to purge him for good. I just hope that this time it goes better for the host," he added quietly, too-knowing blue optics boring into Prowl. "Have you two discussed a worst case scenario?"
Prowl shook his head slowly. "Black Echo and I have discussed little lately, except for some upgrades to me he believes would be a benefit. He was not pleased with my decision to brief Optimus on recent developments."
Ratchet snorted. "I bet. I meant you and Jazz. He knows the risks, probably better than I do and I fix the crazy mech."
"Not in detail. We both acknowledge the fact that there is a good chance he will not return from any one of his assignments. One of the reasons I wished Optimus to know that SpecOps had borrowed him for a high risk mission." Prowl shrugged a little.
"So extinguishing is the worst case you two came up with," Ratchet x-vented before turning the blowers on to dry himself. "What about if we get him back, but the only way to save his spark is a complete processor reformat? You'd be bonded to a newly sparked pleasurebot for all practical purposes. No memories, no experiences, nothing that made him the mech you fell in love with."
A shudder ran through the Praxian. "Then I will learn to accept him as he is, and pray to Primus that there is still something there that feels, or will learn to feel, something for me."
"Figured as much," Ratchet managed a small smile. "His spark is still the same ... just be prepared for it. Meister won't let the frame go easily. Not with the war over. He must realize that he's not going to get out again for a very long time."
"He is very aware of the fact Ratchet." Prowl informed him. "Even more so with the understanding that this mission could tip the war in our favor."
"I just hope Black Echo can put Meister back in his cage one last time," Ratchet x-vented as he turned the blowers off. "Jazz has been through enough already in the name of the war."
"I know." The Praxian was very familiar with what Jazz had suffered in the name of the war, both before Prowl had met him and afterward. He finished off the last of the high grade he had brought with him and studied the empty container, contemplating.
"Come on, there's more," Ratchet cuffed his shoulder. "What else is on your processors?"
"The idea that my bonded may not be returning to me isn't enough? Or that for some reason Black Echo believes I will benefit from a dataport upgrade isn't worrisome? The fact that even if the mission does go well there is still a chance for everything to implode upon itself in an unforeseen manner?"
"That would be the list," Ratchet nodded as he picked up a couple cubes of good high grade from his stash and continued to the entry room. "Just what did he say about wanting you to upgrade?"
"Just that he believes there might be a need for me to have better dataports and that Keepsafe would be doing the work." Prowl explained as he followed Ratchet back into the more pubic sections of the medics quarters. "I don't see a reason to not get them, but I thought I would see what you thought first."
"Short form: that if he's offering his own medic for the procedure, he's scared for you," Ratchet said grimly. "It also means he believes that if Meister breaks loose of all controls, he'll come after you sooner rather than later."
Prowl accepted the offered energon and found himself a seat as he contemplated this answer. "So he considers me a target of Meister."
From what Jazz had told him and Meister's own actions Prowl was not surprised at the news. If nothing else it was a personal score to the mech that needed to be settled, punishment for Prowl and insurance that Jazz would remain a host for him.
"I can arrange time with Keepsafe tomorrow."
"Just be sure to ask her exactly what the upgrades do, and come see me when she's done," Ratchet said grimly. "I probably can't undo her work, but I can at least warn you what it all does beyond the obvious."
"I would appreciate that." It wasn't all the information that Prowl had been hoping for, but was honestly far more than he had been expecting. With that he took another drink of the highgrade, sighing as it settled in his tank.
"Now then, are you picking up anything across the bond?" Ratchet asked.
"Flickers. Emotions mostly, nothing that I can put into words that make any sort of sense." Prowl said, trying to describe the flashes he had been getting on occasion. It had been both easier and harder to ignore, since what he was picking up did not feel like Jazz, but harder because part of his processor insisted that anything that came from there must be coming from his bonded.
Ratchet nodded. "Anything unsettling?"
"Not so far." Prowl said, sorting through what he had felt. "Other than the fact that I feel the need to be concerned about anything that seems to make him very happy."
Ratchet winced. "Yes, I can see that being very unsettling. At least it tells you the mission hasn't gone terribly wrong yet. How are you holding up? I know you aren't recharging well, and for once I'm not going to yell at you about it, but is anything else hard to deal with?"
Prowl considered his answer, the medic being one of the few mechs to get a detailed honest answer out of him any more. "Nothing that I have not dealt with before, simply aggravated by the current circumstances."
Another sip of highgrade allowed the Praxian a moment to continue framing his answer, and golden optics finally rose to meet blue. "Emotions that I am ill equipped to deal with on my own, mostly. Though I was not going to be overly concerned until there was evidence that they were starting to have an effect on my work."
A low hum of understanding and Ratchet nodded. "My door's always open when you need it." He paused, glancing down at his own cube. "You've read up on breaking bonds and the dangers to those around you?"
"Yes. Right after Jazz left for his first op mission after we bonded. The effects sound very unpleasant, so I often choose not to contemplate them." His wings twitched gently. "I wish to believe I would not be a danger to those around me."
"Not to be placating, but my professional opinion is that you'd finish whatever you're working on if it's critical, drop into stasis and then fade," Ratchet said grimly. "As dramatic as it sounds and as legendary as the events are, believing you are with your bonded and in the danger that killed them is extremely rare. It's one reason we try to ensure bonds are muted in situations like yours. It's never occurred with a properly muted bond, but it also only takes a nanoklik of poor judgment to open it wide when you begin to feel the panic/pain of impending death from the other side."
Prowl flinched at the mention of loosing a bonded, so much closer to home with Jazz being so far away at the moment, but still found a small smile to offer Ratchet. "If it's any better, I find your professional opinion comforting, if anything."
"It means you don't like deluding yourself much," Ratchet humphed, though there was a smile for Prowl in it. "You also like to plan. I know it makes you feel better when you've anticipated and analyzed the potential outcomes and how to deal with them."
"Very true," Prowl agreed, then stopped, frowning as he considered something else. "If... if something happens and what you suspects comes to pass, would you deliver a message for me?"
"Of course," Ratchet agreed immediately. "I'm your friend Prowl. What do you want Soundwave to be told?"
"That I am sorry. And that I love him." Simple words, but truth that said everything Prowl needed to say and would want to remind Soundwave of.
A solemn nod. "I'll tell him if you can't," he promised. "Anyone else, anything else?" he asked softly.
"No." Prowl admitted quietly, the number of mechs he considered true friends, friends enough that he felt the need to say something to them, was small. And all of them he saw often enough that he would hope they would understand.
"I would like to think that Optimus knows how much I value his friendship-" And a friendship it was, beyond that of Prime and third. "And you listen to me enough as it is."
"He does," Ratchet nodded. "So do I. We value yours as well. Would you recharge better if you planned out how to handle it if Jazz had to be reformatted?"
"You think that is a serious possibility?" It was something that Prowl didn't want to consider, but he had to admit that Ratchet was right and he did do better with at least some sort of contingency plan in place.
"I think of the bad outcomes - Jazz dying or requiring a reformat to keep Meister from running loose - it's much more likely that it'll be a reformat," Ratchet said with pained honesty. "They're both survivors."
A harsh vent from Prowl, his opinion and his wish that Meister was something else. "What can I do?" The Praxian asked, shrinking in on himself somewhat, the highgrade starting to take effect.
"I guess the good part is that if it comes to that, Jazz should be in stasis for it and under close medical supervision," Ratchet began, digging into rarely used files. "Which also means you'll have time between learning it has to happen and actually facing the results. How much do you remember of Jazz's first vorn. The memories he shared with you when merging and bonding?"
"Most of them." Prowl admitted after a quick search. They were part of what made Jazz the mech he was, and for the most part many of them were of a happier time and a truthfully joyful Jazz, not the act that so many often saw today.
"Well, worst case, that's the mech you're going to end up with," Ratchet explained. "It was the mech he was sparked as, and I've known him long enough to know his spark is beautifully suited to his original function. I'll fight any effort to change his base programming on a reformat."
"Thank you." Prowl said, sincere. He knew how much enjoyment Jazz found when he was allowed to function as he had intended to, how happy he was being what he was supposed to be, and it was because his spark and his programming were so perfectly matched.
"How," Prowl started after a moment, pausing before forcing himself to continue. "How often has this happened?"
He hummed, going over his personal files and pinged the main system for statistics. "In the medical literature there seems to be a handful of cases every century. The reasons vary; physical damage, viral damage to programming or protocols, unrepentant, functioning-long criminals. Every few centuries a request will come along when a mech has experienced something that they can't cope with and no lesser options have been successful. They'd also include those whose spark is at odds with their core programming. Reformatting with a new core programming set for a new function they are better suited for.
"It's not common by any means, but it is a procedure I am personally supervised nine times; three as an Autobot, six as a civilian. While I won't call it ideal, the specialists and skill levels we have here on base are enough that I'd perform the procedure if needed." Ratchet lowered his gaze into his cube. "As cruel as it would be to you, it might just be the kindest outcome for Jazz. He may not like me, but I've put him back together enough times to know just how tormented his non-pleasurebot functions have left him."
"But the bond survives the reformat?" Prowl pressed, other concerns rising in his processor.
"There are only a handful of cases recorded, but yes," Ratchet nodded. "Reformatting only deals with hardware and software. It doesn't touch the spark. Jazz simply won't remember anything that happened before he's brought on line after the reformat."
"Ratchet, from what everyone has told me, from what Jazz himself has told me, it should be impossible for him to love me. He should have never had been able to bond with me." Prowl looked at the medic, concerned and a little desperate. "What will it do to him to wake up in a situation where he is bonded to a mech that he doesn't know and doesn't have any memories of?"
Ratchet shifted uncomfortably. "The inability to love is a very specific edit to the standard emotional protocols most mechs are uploaded with. From a technical standpoint, they both love and hate, but there are secondary protocols that prevent the intensity from exceeding what a normal mech would describe as like and dislike. Jazz loves and hates because he's edited his own protocols so often he's destroyed the limiters. I expect Black Echo had something to do with it too, but I can't prove it. His team did a lot of programming work on Jazz to turn a free-will pleasurebot into one of his best agents. If I have to reformat him, he'll still be able to love you. I couldn't do that to either of you. It's far too cruel."
"Just because he is able to does not mean that he will want to Ratchet." And there was Prowl's greatest fear surmised. He was sure that Black Echo had changed a lot of Jazz's programming, but he would never be able to forget the pride he had felt from Jazz when the silver mech talked of their relationship.
Of how Jazz had overcome the programming. How he had chosen to love Prowl, to ask him to bond, to accept the bond that had been offered in return and build it into a relationship. Even if he had the ability to be in a relationship, if all of his programming told him it was a bad idea, how long did Prowl have before his spark was at odds with core pleasurebot programming and driving him mad?
"What if he hates me?" Prowl asked, soft and sad.
"I can't make promises, Prowl," Ratchet x-vented reluctantly. "All I can do is give you the best chance I can." He locked optics with Prowl. "But understand this. I'm an old mech. I've been in good relationships and bad. I've left mechs and I've been left. There is nothing in existence more attractive, more addicting, that the feel of another's love. He may not understand it, but he'll be drawn to it whether he knows you or not. As long as you love him, he's going to want to keep you feeling that way. It'll give you long enough to earn his love again. You've already got the most important thing down pat."
"I do?" Prowl asked, wanting to believe and praying that all of this talk was for nothing anyway.
"Prowl, you love him deeply and you don't want him to change his function," Ratchet smiled at him. "You really have no idea how lucky you are in having your first two relationships be ones this likely to work out for the best. Most of us have to try and fail scores of times before finding the right mech or two. Even then most mechs want at least a little change, some concession for them. Jazz is lucky to have you, that you enjoy his peace and joy at his function more than you want him for yourself. As long as you never resent his function he's going to fall in love with you again. It might not be the same backdrop of pride in a difficult accomplishment, but he'll love you."
Prowl nodded in agreement then sighed, a soft sound of surrender. "I still pray it does not come to that."
"Same here, but the least I can do is prepare you for it. I know that battle computer of yours likes to know what's going on," Ratchet said after a sip of high grade. "Have you ever talked about trying to kindle or request a sparkling?"
"With Jazz?" Prowl clarified, then shook his head. "It is not a topic that has ever been discussed, with the war. He mentioned designing a sparkling frame once, but I believe that was an attempt to divert my attention from focusing back on believing Soundwave deactivated."
"Most likely," Ratchet consented that one. He had no doubt that Jazz would say or do anything to keep Prowl among the functioning. Pits, the mech did the almost unthinkable.
The Praxian gave it a moment's consideration, sensor wings finally stretching in a small shrug. "It is not something I would object to, if one of them desired it."
A small smile crept over Ratchet's features. "What are your desires after the war for the three of you?"
"To hopefully find a way to exist together." Prowl admitted. "I assume that Soundwave will return to his prior occupation, and Jazz will hopefully be free to define his functioning and please his programming as needed."
"And you?" Ratchet cocked his head. "What do you wish to do, to be?"
"I do not know." Prowl confessed, even though it was something that he actually had given some thought to. "I would not object to returning to my former job, or a position like it, if there is need of my skills. I was content there, in the beginning. If not I will seek a position where I am useful, to serve as I was meant to."
Ratchet hummed and accessed Prowl personnel file. "Given the number of cities heavily damaged ... pits, just putting Iacon to rights will take half your remaining functioning. If you want to be a city planner when this is over, I know Prime would be thrilled to have your processors doing it."
"If he wishes I would pleased to help work on plans for the rebuilding. Or in any other capacity I would prove useful. I do not have to be a city planner- that is merely the occupation those who had my spark called placed me in. Any sort of occupation that requires organization, planning and analyzing satisfies my programming." Prowl explained, earning a chuckle from Ratchet.
"You'll have no lack of need for your skills," he promised. "Organizers have always been needed and you're good at it. All three of you can easily settle anywhere too, from Iacon's Towers to the smallest village. A High Priest, rank five pleasurebot and planner of your caliber should be welcome and needed anywhere."
"Then it will depend on what would please Soundwave and Jazz, or whatever compromise they might come to." Prowl amended, hopeful. "The actual location makes little difference to me."
"As long as you can perform the function you were designed for," Ratchet nodded in complete understanding. "I really am looking forward to seeing the three of you together. It's so clear how much you love both of them, how much Jazz adores you, and I'm confident Soundwave wouldn't offer his spark to you in bond if he didn't feel you were worth every effort."
"Soundwave has made very clear how much effort he was willing to put into courting me." Prowl agreed. "And that he would wait as long as needed for me to bond with him. From what Ravage and Laserbeak said, I wish to believe he still desires me."
"You'll find out soon," Ratchet said gently. "Have you seen them interact much before?"
"Not with each other, until we had to create the cover that allowed me to defect and join the Autobots. They were civil at least, with a common goal to work towards."
"You've talked to them both, though, that you love and want them both?" Ratchet pressed, praying silently that he'd understood various previous nights well enough.
"Yes. I want, need, them both." Prowl struggled once more to find a way to explain. "I love them, both of them, equally. They are balance."
"Then at least there shouldn't be any real surprises, other than the usual for settling a non-trine triad," Ratchet hummed thoughtfully on his own situation. So different and yet quite similar to Prowl's. "Given they're both Intel, I suspect they know each other's files quite well."
"My understanding is that they have known each other for longer than I have been sparked." Prowl supplied quietly. "I am unsure of how my presence may have upset that balance."
Ratchet's optic ridge lifted sharply. "As in they've been friendly for a long time?"
Sensor wings flicked, a sign that Prowl was unsure of an answer with the information he had at his disposal. "I never inquired that deeply. Soundwave indicated that he had known Korrës, trained with him, in the past. And that Jazz was someone he was familiar with from before the war. I do not know of any relationship between the two of them beyond a professional one."
With a hum Ratchet nodded his understanding. "Still, if they both know you want to bond with them both and they've known each other for that long, they must at least expect they can get along in a triad bond with you at the center. At the very least they'd know if they'd hate each other. Especially Soundwave with his telepathy, and Jazz is no slouch at judging a mech."
"Jazz informed me, before we bonded, that he had accepted the idea of me also bonding with Soundwave long ago. And Soundwave approved of my relationship with Jazz, and made it clear, before I defected. I know that neither of them were overly pleased with the arrangement, but they were willing to accept it." Prowl twitched, stressed at the memories he had of both mechs, and the possessiveness from both of them.
"It's a good start, Prowl," Ratchet tried to reassure him. "It's a very good start. They're both dedicated to you. They can both tolerate the other. Most important of all, all three of you are being reasonably honest. It won't be easy, but they're both highly adaptable mechs used to pushing past boundaries and working out problems." He considered his empty cube before standing to get another. "Will you be staying for recharge?"
The Praxian hesitated at the offer, clearly tempted by the idea. It would be nice to not spend the recharge cycle alone, but when all he was seeking was a frame and field near his own, with no intention of offering anything but the same in return, it was not fair in Prowl's mind. "I will be very poor company."
"Like I am?" Ratchet snorted before grabbing two cubes of high grade and handing one over. "Sometimes Prowl, that desire to have a warm frame and trusted field is mutual. We are a social race." He settled back in his chair. "I haven't had anyone to hold in orns either, even if mine are safer than yours. The quiet company I trust would be welcome."
The cube was accepted and Prowl relaxed back in his own seat. "Then I would very much like to stay." He took a drink of the energon. "And thank you."
And the thanks was clearly for more than the energon.
Ratchet gave him an honest, warm smile. "You're welcome."
There were reports, many of them. Reports of chaos, of the fall of Shockwave and a stronghold left in ruins with not a single mech stationed there left functioning.
Black Echo would believe none of them until the mech supposedly responsible stood before him with proof in hand. He knew his agent was coming. Meister had actually decided to comm ahead and tell him. The unusual courtesy just put the SpecOps commander more on edge.
Meister didn't do courteous.
"Hey there boss," Jazz's voice still managed to catch him off guard.
Sharp optics studied the silver mech now standing before him, processor working furiously to make sense of his immediate circumstances. After the last time he had not expected Jazz to be able to lock the Meister profile back up himself. It took a couple nanokliks, but he caught it. The slight difference in the EM field, the inflection of the words. Meister was damn near flawless, but Black Echo knew Jazz intimately well. He'd made a point of it.
"Jazz," he lifted an optic ridge, playing along for now. "Are the reports accurate?"
"Yap," the silver minibot grinned and unsubspaced Shockwave's severed helm. "Taken live and preserved so his memory cores are mostly intact."
"Flawless, as usual." Black Echo conceded. "You can leave it for analysis. Whatever we can retrieve from it will doubtless prove invaluable. Then we can debrief you and you can be on your way."
"Sure thing," 'Jazz' nodded and stepped close to place it on Black Echo's desk.
The Special Operations commander didn't sense it coming, didn't even feel it at first. Only the sudden flare of gleeful malice in the field against his warned him that his most difficult agent, his monster, had finally turned on him.
With an energon blade in his abdomen, he was a dead mech walking ... or rather staring.
Only pure luck or extreme skill would have landed a blade there, guaranteed to end functioning in nanokliks, and the dying mech knew exactly which one it had been as he stared.
He should have seen it coming. In fact, he had. But he had dared to play the odds one last time, and the odds had finally tipped in another's favor.
"Any final words, Master?" Meister hissed in his faceplates as Black Echo dropped to his knees.
"Pit take you." The fading mech growled in return, a final act of defiance that both knew meant nothing in the end.
The final sounds Black Echo was aware of was the gleeful laughter as Meister licked his blade clean in front of him
The ancient monster grew ever more giddy as his prey extinguished. He fed off the death in his own way, the fleeing spark energizing him in a way no high grade could. The cries of denial of his host, the pain the little mech felt at their former master's demise only fueling his desire.
"Now, for Prowl."
The feeling of being abruptly pulled from recharge without the alarms that usually accompanied the panic boot-up was disorienting and took Prowl's processor an extra nanoklik to sort through. For the first time in several orns had he had decided to try recharging on his own, the time spent in close proximity to Ratchet having done a great deal to soothe his spark.
Finally everything was online and functioning, giving Prowl a start. "Jazz?"
"Yes, lover," his mate's voice purred, but it wasn't right. The field accompanying it was even worse.
His optics powered up, focusing first on the silver mech straddling his hips and leaning forward.
"Like my returning gift?" the stranger in Jazz's frame asked, drawing Prowl's attention to the object on his chest.
"What-" For a moment all Prowl could do was stare at the lifeless helm resting on his chestplates, oozing energon onto him. Soundwave's dull visor looked him in the optics. "Jazz-"
A closer look, a brush of dark field against his own, and Prowl tired to struggle, desperate, only to find that his vocalizer and optics were the only parts of him that would respond. "You, not Jazz. Where-"
"Still in here," Meister promised with a malicious grin. "I intend to make him watch me destroy everything before I finally purge him and claim his spark as my own." He leaned forward and claimed a hard, unloving kiss. "You really should have agreed to my terms, Prowl," he whispered seductively with their lip plates only a fraction apart. "Is a frame of my own really so much to ask for?"
"You hold my bonded hostage." Prowl answered, still trying to fight, to force him limbs to work around whatever block the dark, twisted presence had forced on him. "You-" His optics traveled to the severed helm in a moment of rest, spark constricting all over again but refusing to believe yet.
"You do this and ask me that question, and expect what? Sympathy? Agreement?"
"Neither," Meister smirked down at him. "I just want you to extinguish knowing you could have prevented that," he pointed at Soundwave's helm. "Prevented what I'm going to do to you, and to the pleasurebot currently locked away, awaiting my pleasure to purge him from existence."
Anger flared in Prowl's optics, anger at himself and at the monster over him, smirking at him as he searched for some way to fight back, searching among his comm frequencies only to find the entire system off line. No help would come that way.
"You are delicious angry," Meister cooed and ran his hands down Prowl's chassis in a mockery of a lover's touch until he reached the thin, sensitive metal covering spike and valve. "I wonder. Are you just as delicious in pain and violated?"
Without waiting for an answer Meister drove two sharp clawed fingers through the valve cover to rip it off.
For a moment Prowl felt helpless, lost, as his spark started to doubt. He did not fear the moment, what Meister was threatening to do with him now. He feared afterward, when the monster was finished with him and ready to move on to other targets.
Friends, comrades, mechs that Prowl had come to care for on a personal level.
Pain- he could still feel that- flared through him at the damage, but if the monster had hoped for a reaction he was left wanting. Meister himself had removed Prowl's ability to flinch away from the violation, and after all this time the Praxian's control over his vocalizer was near perfect.
"Yes, you do," the silver mech shivered in delight before extending his spike - one that looked very little like Jazz's. Meister made sure his was decorated with small spikes, just enough to hurt, but not enough to ever kill. "So very good," he actually moaned before driving himself into the dry, unprepared valve.
Pain unmatched in battle or training tore through Prowl, distracting his processor from his attempts to plan, to find some way to stop this all. Optics flared in response before Prowl could stop himself, giving away more than the Praxian wanted to his attacker. His vents cycled to a higher setting, automatically responding to his distress as the creature on top of him began to thrust.
Their fields pressed against each other. Meister's attempting to weave with Prowl's.
The attempted sharing finally gave Prowl something else to focus on, to fight against as he pulled his own EM field as close as he could, locking it down into a barrier and refusing to willingly blend with the darkness all around him.
It was defiance, but it was all he had left at the moment, the only thing he had to offer to remind himself that he wasn't going to give up yet.
Soundwave's helm was suddenly knocked off his chest, giving Meister the room to lean forward and lick Prowl's throat. "I know everything he does about you. What you like, what gets you off, what causes pain like no other," he added, reaching out to slide sharp claws along one wing, catching and snapping a few select wires. "I know you as well as he does," he added with a hard thrust, rolling his hips to scrape the spikes along every surface of the valve now slick with oozing energon.
If Prowl could have shaken his head he would have in denial and mockery of the mech above him. "You'll never know me as well as he does." He hissed, thankful as additional protocols finally initiated and redirected more of the pain, even as the damage warnings started to come in fast enough that the time stamps were stacking them on top of each other.
Against his spark he felt a small, careful pressure and very familiar presence silently asking him to drop the block they'd put in place.
Prowl diverted enough of his attention to actually look at the pressure, to feel the presence, before he pulled the block down with a prayer.
Jazz, his love, flooded into his spark with relief and raw terror.
~So sorry. So sorry I'm not strong enough. He wants to live too much. I couldn't stop him,~ Jazz was all but babbling. ~Killed Black Echo,~ he sobbed quietly. ~Going to kill you. I don't have the strength to lock him away any more.~
Prowl's first priority became calming his mate, to the exclusion of everything else. Love, unconditional and all encompassing was pushed at Jazz. ~Can I help you? Can we stop him?~
~Worth a try,~ Jazz's awareness flickered, the strain of reaching outside the mental prison beginning to show. ~He's going to kill us all if he's not stopped.~
Prowl latched on to his presence, offering whatever strength and help he could. ~Tell me what to do.~
~Hardline would be best, but ... just give me strength to force him down,~ Jazz struggled to explain something he only half understood. ~He's just another profile. He has to be.~
Finally something he could work with, and Prowl's battle computer went to work, stopping on Jazz's words. ~Do you know how he is planning to finish me?~
~He'll break your frame, make you suffer as long as he can, then he'll hardline to tear your apart from the inside out,~ Jazz could barely get the words across. Most of it came as memory-images of Meister's work. ~He'll make you beg, no matter how long or what he has to do.~
~Can you hold on until he makes the hardline connection? Could we put him down then?~ Prowl asked, struggling to keep connected with Jazz through all of the other input demanding his attention. ~I can start begging as soon as there is a convincing opening if it will cause him to think I am breaking faster.~
~Yes. Yes. Yes,~ Jazz gasped out as the strain became too great and he faded from Prowl's awareness, back to his prison.
Sure of what he needed to do now Prowl dug into his own code, making hasty edits that would have made Ratchet cringe but not caring. If he made himself crazy maybe at least there was a chance he would take the other mech with him when Meister got around to making the hardline connection.
Edits worked to his satisfaction, Prowl braced himself and fell back into the external world, allowing what Meister was doing to wash over him full force, his attention refocusing externally on the monster with him. It was a chaotic jumble of sensations; the warmth of a beloved frame against his, agony from his valve, pleasure from his throat and wings, the pulse of his bonded's spark so close to his own.
A whimper escaped Prowl, not pleasure but response to the pain from his valve and from the pain of having his bonded so close and not being able to touch him in any way that mattered. It seemed enough to encourage Meister, as the mech shivered and moaned before lifting himself. Prowl could feel the charge building in his rapist, the frame responding almost exactly as Jazz's did even if the mech inside was very different.
"So good," Meister moaned, his field flicking out to push against Prowl's with the complement as he began to roll his hips and thrust harder. "Be a pity to kill you. You wouldn't believe how much Jazz is hurting at watching this."
"No." Prowl whimpered, wishing there was a way he could spare his bonded this and knowing that there was no way that Meister was not going to use every tool he had as his disposal to bring pain to others. "Leave him."
Begging, pleading, if that was what it took to save Jazz Prowl as not above it. Encouraging Meister to abuse Prowl and his frame in an attempt to end this as quickly as possible.
"You're both so cute, more concerned for the other than what you know I'm going to do to you," Meister grinned, then moaned as his optics went to half power in bliss. "It's almost a pity you won't watch Cybertron burn."
"Your doing?" Prowl hissed around the pain burning through his frame.
"Of course," he smirked down at his captive, relishing the screams inside, in Jazz, almost as much as the pleasure this frame gave his own. "It's what I do, tearing mechs into little pieces. Cybertron's just the biggest mech of them all."
"Monster." Prowl managed, optics going dim as more energy was shunted by his edits and diverted to critical systems.
"Ancient," Meister chuckled, the sound rolling into a moan, then a roar as he overloaded hard. Transfluid shot into Prowl's valve, the heavy charge and heat of it sending a fresh wave of agony and more warnings as it oozed into his internals from the shredded valve walls.
The groan this time was a true sound of agony, an admission of how much pain Prowl was in, optics blacking out completely. He was barely aware of the pleased purr above from, the pain in his valve as Meister withdrew more warning than sensation.
When sharp, killing claws drove into his chest plate's seam and began to tear them open, and it pulled a cry from Prowl, helpless denial in the sound. He could feel the excitement Meister didn't hide at his reaction. With Prowl's chest torn open Meister took a moment to simply enjoy the bright spark he would soon extinguish. Not before he'd destroyed the mech it supported, however.
More claw-work, relatively delicate this time to reveal Prowl's hardline ports. It was easy enough to wire into a mech, but the ports sharpened everything. The blue and gold spark pulsed, swirling and flaring as he worked and brightening as he touched the access ports, the mech it gave life to offering another groan.
"So pretty," Meister chuckled and plugged in, onto to find his frame lock and processors shut down as a viral code slammed into him with a burst of power. The last thing any of them were aware of was the signature on it: Black Echo.