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Starcrossed 15: Simfur
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Simfur was another long drive, but with Prowl's credits, and the few Jazz had made, they had enough energon to recover from shifting to new frames - back to more generic grounder frames, similar to the ones they'd worn in Tyger Pax but of different models, dark colors helping them blend in with the industrial city - and make the journey.
It didn't leave them with much when they arrived, but it was enough to get started. They needed work, doing whatever they could find as soon as possible, but before that, they needed rest, and for that, they needed a room. Credit-per-joor hotels, the cheapest ones, were located deep within the city's poorest districts, where one look down an alley had Jazz praying they would get to the selected hotel without incident.
When dark frames stepped out from the shadows and blocked their path, he wondered why he'd ever thought they could get even that much of a break, and transformed into root mode at the same time as Prowl, looking warily at the group. He recognized Prowl's stance as a basic self-defense one from watching the House guards spar, though he knew his lover knew very little beyond a few basic moves. It was still more than Jazz knew, and Prowl had the larger, heavier frame. Carrier protocols also put Jazz behind him, the need to protect the lives dependent on him stronger than his need to stand next to his love.
"Never seen you two around here before," one of them said, stepping forward enough into the scant amount of light there was, optics glowing red and denta bared in a vicious grin. "You picked the wrong gutters to sight see in."
His hand shifted out from behind his back, and was that a blaster? Jazz realized suddenly, staring at the weapon. The grins and snickers from the gang showed how much his reaction must have been obvious.
Prowl made a small but flawless move to protect Jazz more with his own chassis, one hand back to help him keep track of his mate when he didn't have doorwings to do the job.
"What do you want?" Prowl growled softly, processor hard at work judging the blaster for type, strength and effect against his grade of armor.
"There's a price to be 'round here," came a hiss from behind them, and Jazz spun, pressing his back to Prowl's, as three more of the gang crept out, blocking the only possible escape route.
"And not so much a price as everything you've got," the first sneered, stepping forward, optics sweeping dismissively over the pair and Prowl's basic stance, holding his hand out.
::Sharp-:: Jazz commed, careful to use Prowl's designation for this city. ::There isn't a way past them.::
::We survive.:: Prowl replied firmly with the first and last priority. ::Everything else can be replaced.::
Against all sense in that statement, Prowl made a lighting fast move, catching the blaster out of the leader's hand and snapping off three shots behind him, clearing the way for Jazz to run.
::Transform. Go!:: Prowl snarled over the comm as he moved to finish turning, the now depleted blaster crushed in his hand.
"You little-!" was all Jazz had time to hear before he transformed and shot away as fast as he could, coding to protect the newsparks driving the action that left his lover behind. He heard the sound of another transforming and prayed it was Prowl, but when he looked, it was one of the gang splitting off from the main group to follow after him, and behind that, the rest had fallen in on Prowl.
Jazz cursed as his attention was torn back to his pursuer, who was gaining on him faster than he could get away. The other had the more streamlined design and the speed advantage. Jazz knew the way they'd come in was a bad option, it led right to a heavy traffic area where he would almost certainly cause a crash, and that would endanger the newsparks just as much as getting caught, if not more.
He skimmed ahead, saw an alley, and engaged his brakes while cutting his wheels, scraping his side sharply against the corner before he got around it, hoping the mech behind him wouldn't be able to follow the move quickly enough.
The sharp squeal of brakes and the mech shot past, but Jazz had to slam on his own brakes a moment later when he came up right against a dead end and transformed, coming to a skidding stop just before slamming into the wall. Headlights casting his shadow forward told him the pursuer had backtracked and followed, and the light shifted with the sound of transforming. Jazz scrambled to his pedes, back against the wall, and snarled at the heavy build as it advanced.
"Here kitten," the mech purred, "Got me all revved up now, haven't you."
"Go slag yourself," Jazz hissed, looking for the vulnerable fuel lines in the neck. He was tall enough, if he could get at one and tear it open, and a strike centered in one of the hip joints could cause extreme pain if that option failed. He waited, watching the slow approach, and when the mech was close enough, he shot up and lunged.
But the mech was prepared for him and easily countered the attempted attack, grabbing both wrists and throwing Jazz down, pushing him hard into the pavement. Jazz knew how to hurt if his prey was bound, but he didn't know how to fight. A knee ground into his chest and Jazz froze, an instinctive reaction in response to a threat against his spark chamber. The soft whine of a blaster powering up came before he felt it pressed against his helm, and Jazz was yanked up to his pedes and dragged all the way back, compliant, unwilling to endanger the newsparks by struggling against the weapon.
He heard it before he saw it, the sound of grunting and the harsh grate of metal against metal, and when he was thrown forward onto his hands and knees and his helm forced up, he saw Prowl on his back, unresisting, optics dimmed almost completely offline, pinned down by three of them
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