Starcrossed 40: Sabotage
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Praedator and Tenebrae emerged in Kaon some metacycles later, an unremarkable pair of dark, indistinct looking grounders with Praxian-style chevrons on their helms with curious identical etchings in the middle that no one cared enough to ask about. They kept to themselves, appearing to live orn to orn-as buymecha, neighbors assumed from their schedules-and never bothered anybody. Vocally supportive of the Decepticon cause of toppling the tyrannical Empire, they made no friends, and no enemies.
Praedator and Tenebrae didn't turn any heads. Prowl and Jazz, however, cut off many. Jazz frequently posed as a buymech, luring in clients proudly bearing the Decepticon symbol, and then making them disappear completely. Prowl spent his nights hacking and researching, watching the flow of resources around Kaon and its allied cities, planning for their bigger attacks and always looking for the best way to get to either Vortex or Megatron.
This orn had changed things up a bit. They-along with half the city-were attending a widely advertised match in the grandest of the Kaon Gladiator arenas. They'd come for two reasons: there were rumors that Megatron, having sponsored this match as a free gift to the public, might be there, and one of the fighting pairs was listed as The Battlechargers, who were widely rumored to be twins.
Sitting next to each other, hands clasped loosely, fingers entwined, they communicated through a hardline in their wrists, watching with glowing yellow visors as the pairs came out.
The first pair, the opposition, were called the Bladed Brothers, and they came out on pede-wheels, circling the arena, waving to the cheering crowds. They were in burnished silver and gold, and clasped each other's hands when they met in the center, waiting for the other two.
The Battlechargers came out running, another pair of grounders in black and white paint that matched exactly, holding heavy-looking swords. They did a lap around before returning to the middle, facing the Bladed Brothers.
The din after the fighting started was ground-shaking, everyone's focus on the match, including the two serious-faced mecha who watched with an unparalleled, intense focus.
~What do you think?~ Jazz asked, frowning. ~I'm not sure they would have gone so far as to call themselves twins in public.~
~No, they never would, but if their owner thought that it would boost sales to pass brothers off as twins, they wouldn't have much choice,~ Prowl replied, watching both sets intently, trying to see if he recognized anything from the younglings he'd last seen.
~They're vicious enough,~ Jazz said dryly, but most of his focus had shifted to the crowds, especially the VIP boxes, scanning for any sighting of Vortex. ~Too heavily upgraded to get a good feel for their original frame type. I think it would take actually speaking with them.~
~I believe I could manage with field contact,~ Prowl suggested. ~It is easier to get in range to teek than it is to speak. For all I can tell from here, either set could be, and it's likely neither. Any sign of Megatron?~
~None,~ Jazz said with a displeased rumble. ~Not even anyone I recognize as close to him. He talks a big show on connecting with the lower classes, but unfortunately it seems to be mostly talk.~
~All the more reason to destroy him. If a miner turned gladiator can't remember what it means to connect with common folk, he's useless.~ Prowl rumbled softly, though it could be taken as a response to the way one of the Battlechargers went down hard under the golden Blade Brother.
His partner was there in the next nanoklik, weapon swinging with deadly intent before the silver one dove in front, raising his arm to take the blow, catching several more hard hits while his partner fought the downed mech, arm blades out and swinging fast enough to blur. The crowd roared, calling out for the kill, but at the last moment the Battlecharger rolled away, pulled back to his pedes by the other.
Jazz hummed as the pairs broke apart, having paused in his response to watch the match for those brief, vicious moments. ~We've been in Kaon for vorns and we've never seen him off a podium, nothing like a good leader,~ he mused. An image of Whiplash flickered through his processor before it was shunted away harshly, an unpleasant reminder of better orns.
Prowl hummed his agreement, memories of his own flickering up unbidden. ~Do you want to get some personal time with any of them?~
The golden visor brightened with consideration. ~For intel, perhaps, but I worry that might be unusual enough for them to report to their handlers. I bet a night with any of these costs a fortune, besides.~
Prowl checked and winced. ~Far more than can be justified on such a low probability of it being them.~ He regarded the battle evenly as it swung back and forth, the two pairs evenly matched and skilled in drawing it out for the crowds. ~Sneak into their cells, or focus on that weapons plant?~
Jazz thought about it for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. ~I don't like the risks that sneaking into their cells poses when put up against the low chance of success of it being them,~ he said. ~They're also sure to be well guarded. I think our best bet is to try to get close enough to teek as they're leaving. But I also think that should be your call, ultimately, given what we're potentially risking by not looking into this as deeply as possible.~
Prowl stilled, caught in an internal coding loop as he traced that line of thought and all that went into it. Internally, he cringed when he realized how old the order was, how many times circumstances had changed while it went unchallenged. Across the hardline, he leaned against Jazz's steady presence. ~Love, they are nearly a thousand now, if they've survived. Any duty I had to them is long, long past. I should have edited that priority tree branch when they turned two hundred and fifty.~
~No, you shouldn't have,~ Jazz said firmly, but he sent a soft brush against Prowl's processor. ~You should make that edit whenever you are ready to. Many, many mecha care for their creations throughout their entire-~ He broke off suddenly, when this time, it was Contact, Mira, and Brava that appeared in his memories, and that thought train was deleted entirely before it could lead any further, leaving Jazz disoriented for a moment before he picked back up smoothly. ~Whenever you are ready. If it is now, then it is now.~
~We are not hunting them now,~ Prowl said firmly, though the wavering behind the statement made it far less set than he wanted it to be. ~We have kills to make. Many kills. And a weapons factory to make go away.~
~Yes,~ Jazz rumbled, settling back in his chair, running the fingers of his free hand up and down along Prowl's arm, a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes between them after vorns of such small touches missing almost entirely from their lives. ~That I will enjoy very much.~
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They were almost caught, twice, while running the wires inside the factory. Jazz looked up and saw a worker getting close to where Prowl was, sent their emergency encrypted ping, waited until he saw his mate's visor flick off and his frame disappear back into the shadows before he did the same, using their audials to listen for when the mech had moved on before continuing.
Quick gestures across the room, confirmation that they were both safe and believed no one else was in the room, before they moved on, setting the next explosives, placed directly over the underground fuel lines. Prowl had hacked the building's schematics and they were following those lines all the way down, until they reached the front again.
The secondary explosives were already set outside, placed on a separate timer, one they would trigger manually from their hiding place, already chosen and a safe distance away.
They met at the front, weaving the wires together, and then brought it out with them as they snuck away. Jazz reset the alarms on the entrance as they left, erased traces of their presence from the system, while Prowl connected in with the trigger timer, which he set for a quarter joor.
"That does it," Jazz whispered as Prowl stood, grinning at him, hands on his hips.
"Yes. They'll have a mess on their hands soon," Prowl purred in anticipation of the destruction of both weapons factory and the Decepticon first responders that were sure to arrive shortly afterwards and walk right into the trap. "Let's set up to watch."
Jazz purred in answer, just as eager as his mate, and they walked the short distance to the connecting road, drove off the grounds with their lights dimmed, then merged back into traffic to make for the rooftop where their equipment was waiting.
"Yeah, I found an awesome view," Jazz said proudly once they had climbed up, looking out over the industrial district. Prowl was kneeling next to him, programming the secondary set.
"It is, and well away from the search grid once they realize what happened," Prowl agreed as he finished and settled next to his mate. He drew Jazz close, an intimacy they had rarely shared since the destruction of their home. Jazz sighed and relaxed against him, the first time in a very, very long while that they'd been this close and still together for more than a glancing moment. Prowl brushed their helms together and they shifted their focus forward, settling in to wait for the first explosion to go off right at shift change when there would be the highest casualty count.
There was very little to indicate the explosions from the outside, or where they were, just a faint, muffled boom that accompanied a tremble in the ground, but moments later, the weapons factory began to shake and crumble. A klik after that, it collapsed in on itself, flames erupting up from the wreckage as secondary explosions shook through the fuel lines, fire spreading in until it reached the main energon holding, and that explosion was a sight to see.
It set off the ammo storage, which leveled what little was left and a solid city block to each side, the wind reaching all the way to their vantage point, though by then it carried no force.
"Beautiful," Prowl rumbled with a distinct hint of arousal in his admiration and pride. "We did well tonight."
"We did," Jazz murmured, fingers running up and down Prowl's arm again. "Won't take long for the first responders." He turned his head to nuzzle against Prowl, an almost nervous thrill going through his field. The nuzzle was drawn into a kiss by Prowl as dark hands slid along Jazz's entirely too generic chassis.
"It won't," Prowl whispered against his lip plates. "We're ready for them too. So many Decepticons will extinguish tonight."
"For Radiance," Jazz whispered back, before the kiss deepened, Jazz covering Prowl's hands with his own, encouraging, accepting, wanting. Prowl eagerly responded and moaned into the kiss, elated that his mate was finally able to accept being touched again. It had been so very long, vorns, and he ached to be intimate again.
The wail of sirens filled the air and they reluctantly broke apart to look over, watching the growing number of lights rushing in towards the factory, waiting for them to reach their traps.
"For Radiance," Prowl rumbled, his engine revving in anticipation of both the kills and the mech in his arms. Tonight he would finally hear Jazz's cries of pleasure again. The abstinence had nearly broken him. He'd never thought himself attached to interfacing, but he now understood that he was very addicted to his mate's pleasure. He needed Jazz's pleasure to keep him focused on the reason he kept going.
They waited more than fifteen kliks for the stream of mecha pouring in to slow, then set off the secondary explosions.
Even from where they watched, they could hear the screaming of rending metal, see the colorful shower of sparks when a mech's frame was caught right above an explosive, and five kliks later, after the responders had all rushed to their companions, the third round went off, shaking the entire district.
On the rooftop, well away from harm and watching with matching smiles and bright yellow visors, Prowl and Jazz rumbled with dark, predatory ecstasy.
Jazz turned, basking in the light of the chemical fires, and pulled Prowl against him. "So long," he whispered, fingers shaking, a mix of want and excitement finally overcoming the fear and grief that had kept him from his mate's touch. "Too long."
"Far too long," Prowl moaned, his entire frame trembling at the contact and what it promised. He drew Jazz into another long kiss with on hand while the other slid across heavy armor to find the new places that made his love moan. Jazz moved with him, exploring, kissing, touching every part of his mate that he could reach. His back felt oddly empty without the doorwings there, but that made it easier to run his fingers up and down his back strut, feeling its tension and the subtle curve.
The new frames helped. Each touch was not linked to a memory; when Jazz kissed his way down Prowl's jaw and to his shoulder, he wasn't following exact paths that he knew Radiance had once taken. He wasn't caressing something that their third wasn't there to touch. Prowl's hands on him didn't immediately feel like only half of what should have been.
Jazz claimed another deep kiss, one that had them both shivering and gasping by the end. And Primus it felt so good to just hold his lover and kiss him. "Right here?" he whispered, field calm, no hint that he wanted to move. "Out in the open beneath the stars?"
"Yes," Prowl slid his interface panels open along with his interface port. It was all there, all for Jazz, all aching to be used and shared and entwine with its surviving mate. "Beneath the stars, lit by our efforts, we reclaim a little bit of what kept us going for so long." He pulled Jazz into a fierce kiss and rocked his hips into his mate's frame, eager and wanting as badly as he had that first night Jazz had come to his room.
Jazz shuddered at the scent and the contact, pressing back, wrapping one arm around Prowl's shoulders and resting the other on his waist, lowering him back and settling himself between legs that parted so easily for him. "Love you, Prowl," he murmured into the kiss, bringing one hand up to outline his chevron, the other holding his side, pushing their hips flush. His covers slid away, responding more slowly to the arousal and desire in his mate's field. "Always love you."
"Always," Prowl shivered and pressed into the touch. "My beautiful Jazz," he whispered for the first time in so very, very long. "Please, share with me, fill me, allow me to warm you."
Jazz trembled, nodded, and took Prowl in a kiss that was as much to distract himself from the feeling of his spike nudging out as it was to feel his mate's lips against his. He rocked, slowly, pressing the very tip of his spike into slick, caressing platelets, letting the soft tingles coax the rest of the length out.
This was harder than touching and exploring. This was well known, parts of them that they had all known and shared together, pieces that had once taken their greatest ecstasy in being three together, were now two, and the emptiness he'd been afraid of felt deeper here. Jazz stilled when he was fully extended, pressing his face against Prowl's neck and shuddering, hips still rocking in slow, short circles, rubbing against his lover's valve.
Under him Prowl shivered and moaned, the want to be filled, to give his mate pleasure, rolled from him in waves. His valve rippled around the emptiness and he held back a whine. He felt the ache of their missing mate, but he felt Jazz's pain far more intensely. "My love. My Jazz." He murmured as he held and stroked his mate's back. His spike rubbed against Jazz's hip as they moved, sending further tingles of long-desired for pleasure into Prowl's frame. "My beautiful mate."
"Yours," Jazz whispered through thick static, and in a slow, smooth push he sank into the warm, slick darkness of his mate's frame, moaning to feel this touch again, the familiar caress and the eager tightness. "Mine." He rocked once, pushed back in, and held, shuddering. "O-ours," he all but sobbed, the three glyphs that had once always been spoken together. "Prowl I miss him so much."
Prowl shuddered at the mixture of physical pleasure and emotional pain. "It's right to miss him, he is our third. He will always be part of us, even when he is not physically here," he tried to soothe his mate, knowing his beliefs did not lead themselves to such comfort.
Jazz nodded, holding him painfully tight, and drew in slow, deep intakes, cycling them through, focusing on the way the air felt moving through the cooling systems before it was vented out, repeating until he couldn't stand to be still any longer, not with the gentle ripples coming from his mate's, his love's, valve.
A tortuously slow pull, an intake, and then a shuddering moan as Jazz pressed forward again and then repeated the movement, over and over, and every time, it hurt. There was a hollowness here, deep and aching, like part of his spark had been stolen from him and what was left was stretching too far to fill in the missing pieces.
But there was also Prowl. Prowl whom he loved with that same desperation, who was still here, so very real and solid and warm beneath him. Prowl who helped sooth that hurting empty place, something that would never fully heal and never stop hurting, no matter how long he lived, but something that could be eased over time. Each rock hurt just a little less, and even though every time still hurt, might always hurt, it got easier.
Right now was for them, reclaiming and knowing again, for feeling and creating the pleasure that Radiance had loved so much about them. Jazz shivered, thrust, and moaned deeply. "I love you," he sang in ancient, sacred glyphs.
Prowl keened in bliss at hearing it, feeling them, knowing the reason for all he had endured was still there, still wanted him and loved him. His embrace tightened and his legs slid around Jazz's. Their movements were limited by it, but the intensity of the closeness was well worth it.
"My beautiful Jazz," Prowl moaned. "My bonded, my love. My everything," he cried out, shuddering in the depth of their love and loss, the pleasure and pain as they renewed their pact to endure and take as much pleasure from their frames as they could.
They moved as one, deep familiarity even with the new frames making every stroke and push and ripple like they'd had these builds their entire lives. Above the chaos and destruction of their own making, rocking to the wail of sirens, lit by the light of the multicolored fires, exposed to the world and oblivious of it all at the same time, they cried out in unison, not even hiding their designations in their passion and unable to find it within themselves to care about any consequences.
They made love for what felt like forever, and for no time at all, a celebration of their third's life and a promise to each other. When the charge broke over their frames, it came as a crashing, consuming wave that left them screaming into the night, clutching each other through the desperate, almost painful shudders as Jazz spilled into his mate, flooding him with hot, thick charge. "My Prowl," he sobbed, caught in absolute, agonizing bliss.
"My Jazz," came the keening echo, and their ecstasy was witnessed by the stars alone.
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"I have a present for you," Jazz sing-songed to his mate when he came home early one morning, before the regular traffic began as the city began to prepare for the upcoming orn. He was leading a Seeker by the hand, a flashy blue and gold painted mech with large, obvious Decepticon insignias on his wings.
"Oh?" Prowl trilled back and came out of the small berthroom to greet his mate and guest. He knew exactly what that set of harmonics meant and felt his pulse quicken at the thought. "Who is this lovely creature?"
"This is Skyshred," Jazz purred, still marked up in his buymech paint. He led the Seeker over and pressed against his chest, nipping at his lower lip and running a leg up along his, hooking around his hip. "He works for Megatron, love, made me hot to think about playing with him."
Skyshred chuckled. "Well, not for Megatron, exactly," he said, harmonics modest but clearly enjoying the attention that the grounder was lavishing upon him. "I run reports for his inner circle," he bragged, openly looking Prowl up and down.
"Couldn't even charge someone who does such work," Jazz said, head on the Seeker's cockpit as he grinned at Prowl. "Told him he could come home and we'd have some real fun with him. Do you like that idea?"
"I definitely do," Prowl stepped close and flared his field out, full of honest desire and excitement. His hands slid along the Seeker's arm, teasing the points where arm cannon connected, before moving to his wings. "Handsome, important Decepticon Seeker. He deserves everything we can give him."
Jazz shivered, field already teeking deeply aroused. "I bet you know important secrets," he purred, fingers stroking down the cockpit glass.
"Many of them," Skyshred said proudly. "But I can't tell you or I'd have to kill you."
Jazz's visor shone as Prowl continued his careful exploration of the frame. "Maybe just a little one?" he trilled.
Skyshred reached down to take a firm hold of Jazz's hips, pushing his own forward suggestively. "Wouldn't you prefer a big one?" he rumbled, and when Jazz shivered, grinned widely. "Ever had a Seeker lodged between your legs, little whore?"
"Had some Praxians in my time," Jazz purred. "Anything like that?"
"Better," the Seeker said.
"What pleasure should I give, while you spread him wide?" Prowl crooned, rubbing up against the Seeker's side shamelessly, playing every bit the eager lover as his mate.
"Why don't you pleasure yourself while you watch me pounding him, get yourself wet and ready for me after I've knocked him offline," Skyshred rumbled eagerly. "It'll be like nothing you've ever felt."
Jazz chuckled, the sound different enough from his former coy and impish giggles to catch Skyshred's attention again, and the Seeker had one moment to look at him before Prowl's claws, which had slipped ever so innocently under arousal-loosened plating, sank in, getting an indignant screech from their prey. A nanoklik later, Jazz slammed the heel of his palm forward, directly into the Seeker's face with his full power behind it, knocking him immediately offline.
"It will be like nothing you have ever felt," Prowl grinned dangerously at their offline prey before he stepped over the limp frame and pulled Jazz in for a heated kiss full of desire and approval. "Let's wrap him up and head out to the pit."
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Jazz sat comfortably in Prowl's lap, deep into the badlands surrounding Kaon, fingers playing over his spike cover, the other hand running suggestively up and down Prowl's leg as they watched Skyshred boot from the stasis they'd forced him into for the trip out here. Dull red optics finally came online, confusion, then rage when he looked up and saw the pair and remembered. "What the frag is this?" he snarled, jerking uselessly at the chains Jazz had wrapped him in that were keeping him trapped where he was kneeling. "Some glitched idea of a robbery?"
Prowl chuckled, deep and dark. "We're not robbers. Thieves on occasion, but we're after information that you possess."
"Oh, please," the Seeker snorted, and settled down comfortably, looking completely unimpressed, wings relaxing back down. "This should be rich. Can't wait to see what Megatron does to your sorry afts."
Jazz smirked. "Ol' Megs? We've got plans for him too, that's where we need your help." He rose smoothly to his pedes, making his opening circle around his prey, settling into the predatory profile that came so easily and naturally to him. It was something that never failed to rev Prowl up hard to watch. "Just wanna know where he is. And anything else you might happen to spill while you're begging me to stop."
A teek of Jazz's field had Skyshred more unsettled than he had been before and the wings lifted just a fraction, more than enough for the Praxian mecha to read. "Hey, whore," he spat, "I'll give you one last chance to untie me and get on your hands and knees for me where you belong."
"Oh yes, that is where my lovely Jazz belongs," Prowl's voice was nearly a moan as he uncurled to his pedes. "But it is only before me that he kneels. To you he is Master. Do us both a favor and don't give in easily. It makes me so hot to watch him work."
Skyshred stared at him, still not quite believing what he was seeing and hearing, before his gaze snapped back over to Jazz when he reappeared. "What-" he started, before Jazz leaned in and pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shh, lovely," Jazz crooned. "Give me a chance to get started first."
Skyshred shook his hand away. "Jazz," he repeated, starting at them like something had just connected. "Not, Lord Vortex's Jazz?"
"Oh so he isn't hopeless!" Jazz praised, and settled on the Seeker's lap, draping loose arms around his neck. "Now," he said. "I wanta know where Megatron is, and if you have any goodies on that oligarch, I'll gladly take those too."
"You are gonna regret this, you filthy little dirtkisser," Skyshred snarled. "I'll rape you so hard you can't think straight."
Jazz laughed, clear and bright, and faster than the Seeker could follow, there was a blade in his hand. "Wrong answer," he purred, holding the edge to his neck. "Let's try again, mm?"
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Jazz allowed Prowl to drive the pace, to set how fast, hard and deep Jazz's spike sank into the guttering spark under them. Against his back Prowl grunted and panted, taking in and sharing the intense pleasure that even the most hardened of agents had been shocked at when they first learned of it. They never understood what an overload triggered by a guttering spark felt like. A tiny part of each mech knew it was because their social programming was well and truly shattered that they could enjoy this, but they did and they had both stopped questioning their pleasure long ago. Life had too little pleasure not to grab all of it.
Jazz kicked the graying frame away after their overload, panting heavily as he leaned against Prowl, wrapping loose fingers around his spike and stroking lazily, enjoying the small aftershocks. Prowl rumbled and rubbed against his aft, deeply satisfied by the kill.
"So," Jazz breathed as they sank down to the ground to curl together and recover some of their strength. "Megatron's heading to Iacon. That's too far for us to hunt right now."
"He's in the middle of a large army and most of them Seekers," Prowl nodded, relaxing against his mate. "Even if we could reach it that is no place to try to capture him. If he succeeds in his plan, he will have done much of the work for us. No government, no Prime, he will become far more easy to access." He nuzzled Jazz affectionately. "Though he did leave him behind. I believe it is time we focused there. Even if we cannot catch him yet, we can torment him."
Jazz shivered and purred, reaching down to stroke his lover with slow, steady motions before he rolled over and brought their spikes together in his hand and swirled his thumb around the heads, mixing their transfluid together. "That will be an enjoyable way to pass the time," he hummed. With most of the Decepticon army gone for what they now knew was an attack on Iacon, life had become incredibly dull.
Prowl's vents hitched and he thrust lightly into Jazz's grip as he pulled his mate in for a hungry kiss. "Yes. We will torment him, pick at his sense of security, his wealth, his support until he is weak enough to capture. I want him so badly, my love. I want him to know what we accomplished."
"That and so much more," Jazz moaned into the kiss, stroking faster, rubbing their lengths together. The cables in his hips tightened and released in short bursts, each cycle making him thrust forward against Prowl. "I want him to know what he might have owned if he hadn't hurt you, see and smell for himself everything he lost."
"Oh yes," Prowl moaned, reveling in once more having his mate with him and sharing pleasure. "Yes, my love," he shivered as his charge quickly built. "He could have had so much. Not just you, but all my skill. All he had to do was act like a noble and let you fool around when he was sated."
"He would, own half of Cybertron by now," Jazz panted, and then a flare of want surged through him so strongly that it made them both shake. He pressed a hard kiss to Prowl's mouth. "I want to taste your spark."
The words were not even finished before Prowl's chest plates unlocked and began to spread. His spark case shifted forward and spiraled open, offering up everything to his mate readily, willingly, eagerly.
Jazz moaned deeply as his own chest opened in automatic answer to that sound of one of his mates offering himself, swirled their glossas together, one hand moving to trace the open cavity, the other remaining wrapped around their spikes. "I will never stop fighting until I've had your spark or mine is no longer in my frame," he murmured, fingers dipping in and brushing over the precious crystal holding the pale blue light that he loved.
No longer the idealistic, fanciful vows of his youth, promises of being together one orn that they both understood far too well now were just empty words. There was only one certainty: they would never stop trying. There was no other guarantee.
"Love you, want you, I will never stop fighting to have you or avenge you while I function," Prowl moaned his reply, shuddering as his charge skyrocketed from the touch to his spark chamber.
"And we will both avenge Radiance," Jazz murmured, and began kissing his way down Prowl's jaw and neck, dipping fingers playfully into the spark tendrils as he moved, until he had Prowl on his back and was crouched over him, lips brushing over the crystal.
Prowl's shuddering moan made his engine purr deeply and he licked his way around the center before dipping his glossa in, swirling it through the energy and life of his lover. Prowl's keen echoed across the empty landscape. Despite the way his frame arched shuddered in pleasure, his chamber never moved, and Jazz bobbed his head lightly, swirling and flicking into the light.
"Love!" Prowl screamed as the overload crashed into him.
Jazz drank in the energy that surrounded and consumed him for those precious, ecstatic moments, pulling at their spikes until he shuddered and spilled over him, moaning through his own overload, trembling when the wave finally crested and then subsided. He shivered and held there, enjoying the soft, charged brushes of Prowl's spark against his lips, and x-vented carefully into them, brushing back.
"Ohh, Jazz," Prowl moaned, shuddering at the continued stimulation. "Love you."
"Prowl," Jazz purred, speaking softly against the light. He x-vented once more and then reluctantly sat up after one more nuzzle and settled himself on his side, arm and leg draped over his mate. "So what should we do to him first?"
"I'm going to reestablish my connection to his estate if I can," Prowl grinned up as his armor closed. "He didn't know the systems existed, he may never have found out he needed to change the access codes."
Jazz grinned back, a truly vicious expression. "There are plenty of flight and rotor frames in Kaon, I will see what I can do in the way of leaving a few presents for him."
Prowl rumbled in approval and Jazz settled down with his head on his mate's chest, slipping easily into recharge against the warm frame.
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Soundwave was not amused even if several of his cassettes were. The Prime was deactivated, the Senate with him, most of Iacon's center was a smoldering pit and the Matrix of Leadership had not been recovered. Soundwave had far more important things to do than to listen to this stupid, paranoid rotor whose only concern was himself. Yet here he was, listening to increasingly outrageous claims that the delusional mech did seem to honestly believe about what had happened while those of value to Megatron were on the campaign.
"-and the morning after that, there were rotor blades melted across my front gate!" Vortex finished, blades lifted and quivering with a mixture of aggravation and anxiety.
"Don't you have security?" Starscream questioned from where he was standing next to Megatron, who, against Soundwave's advice, had caved to Vortex's whining demands that he have an audience with the entire inner circle. Soundwave was of the opinion that this would only inflate Vortex's sense of self-worth, but his credits were more valuable to Megatron than his humility. That would some orn change and then Soundwave could remove this blight to the race with great satisfaction.
"Of course I have security!" Vortex howled. "The finest that can be bought. What I need is the security specialist that doesn't want my credits." He made a pointed gesture towards Soundwave.
"I think what you need is a less obnoxious demeanor," Starscream said with an obvious roll of his optics and dismissive flick of his wings. "Did you ever stop and think, 'Maybe it's not them, it's me?'"
Vortex snarled at him.
Starscream sneered back. "Well, there hasn't exactly been a rash of vandalism with rotor parts, seems like a personal problem to me."
"Starscream," Megatron rumbled, an unspoken order to shut up and behave in his voice. He was watching Vortex intently, chin resting on his hand. "Vortex, do you have any idea who might be behind these acts?"
"Probably the same mecha that's making Decepticons disappear lately," he suggested.
"Probability: 47.2%." Soundwave offered.
Megatron thought that over for a few moments, shifting his gaze from Vortex to Soundwave, but before he could voice what looked like his decision, Starscream was talking again.
"Why aren't we assuming this is just someone that the rotor fragged off?" he asked, looking at Soundwave. "Primus knows he's done enough to make enemies. Lord Megatron, giving this glitch Soundwave's services would be a waste of his time and your valuable resources."
"Probability of Starscream's theory: Low," Soundwave said, earning himself a sharp look from the Seeker that he paid no attention to. "Vortex's favored victims: Empties and guttersmecha. Resources: Few. Contacts: Few. Loved ones: Few and poor."
"And whoever is doing this has been going after my resources," Vortex said with a touch of triumph in his voice as it became his turn to sneer at Starscream, who rattled his wings with a soft hiss in return. "Lord Megatron, this is obviously an effort to hurt your cause."
"Don't pander to me, Vortex," Megatron said. "It is not appreciated. Though you may have a point, and if there is any chance that the perpetrator is the same as the one attacking Decepticons, we must follow through on any leads. Soundwave," he rumbled. "You will perform a thorough security check of his estate and work diligently to catch the mech or mecha behind the vandalism and theft."
"Soundwave: understands and will obey."
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Prowl and Jazz stood outside the front gates of Vortex's estate, staring up at them. The estate security network had gone down easily once they decided to test their luck getting within the grounds on a night that Vortex wasn't at home, and now they were here, together, hand in hand looking back into the place that had been their terror so many centuries ago.
"We're actually going to step back inside there," Jazz murmured, an almost reckless amusement in his field.
"Yes," Prowl shivered but otherwise didn't move. "Yes, we are. And we're going to do some damage."
Jazz nodded once. Their subspaces were full of weapons and explosives to plant around the estate in locations least likely to hurt any of the current staff. Prowl had been monitoring schedules and the ornly goings on of the former House for the last vorn while they continually sabotaged it from the outside.
"Well," Jazz said, quirking a grin, and Prowl took the signal to unlock the gates. They swung open silently and easily and they stepped inside. "Welcome back."
Prowl cycled a deep vent and steadied himself. He hadn't expected it to be this disturbing as he stepped inside the setting of all their worst memories and nightmares. Another step and he steadied, emotions put firmly in place. By the fourth step he was ready to go to work like this was nowhere special.
They moved under cover of darkness, heading into the gardens to rig up some of the explosives to destroy the most expensive imports, when Jazz, glancing aside at a pool he had once knelt by, froze, hand going to Prowl's arm to stop him.
Optics. He'd seen a reflection of optics in the water.
::We need to go, something's watching,:: he sent through their most encrypted channel.
Prowl made no outward sign except for a calm and calculated retreat, his sensor sweeps and access to the estate's surveillance at full power. ::I can find nothing.:: Yet his harmonics were of concern that he could not, rather than questioning Jazz's assessment.
::It was gone as soon as I turned my head,:: Jazz said, calmly following the same path they'd taken in. ::Low to the ground.:: They were just almost at the gate when the sound of it closing and locking on its own reached them, incredibly loud in the otherwise silence of the grounds. Sensors at full power, they heard something moving through the air above them and looked up in time to see a small, dark shape flying overhead, circling purposefully.
"Climb," Prowl said even as he leapt up and connected to the wall with his hand magnets, trusting his mate to follow.
Jazz moved right next to them, and halfway through a step the ground and the wall started to shake, hard enough that they both stopped and clung or risk being dislodged, when the first shot ricocheted off the metal between their helms, close enough for them to feel the heat. The shaking subsided suddenly and they scrambled up, but the laser fire repeating right over forced them into short bursts of distance while the creature flying overhead circled back around.
"It's trying to keep us in," Jazz hissed.
"Intruder: Correct," said a voice from behind them. "Intruders: Will cease attempts to escape."
Prowl shuddered in recognition and felt the panic surge inside him. Of all mecha, they could not be captured by this one. He pulled out of the estate systems and devoted his full processor power to anticipating the next shot and how to get away from it.
Next to him, Jazz pulled a blaster, pushed off the wall, spun, and reattached so he was facing out, set his sights on what he now knew was a flying cassette, aimed, and fired.
The shot went wide as the creature banked at the last moment and then Jazz's hand was hit directly, forcing the weapon out of his grip and damaging everything below the wrist. "Go!" he yelled to his mate, while the flying cassette's pattern was broken, and he performed a series of flips up the rest of the wall as Prowl scrambled up, almost falling off the top when the shaking started again before they dove off the other side.
They landed hard and took off running, but the presence overhead stuck with them, and behind, they knew the host was following every move they made.
::Down, out,:: Prowl sent with their best encryption and floored it towards the city limit and empty lands they knew so well beyond.
He didn't need an answer to know Jazz was doing the same, but it seemed like no matter how many turns they took, how fast they went, they couldn't shake the tail, and if they didn't do that, there were going to be Seekers coming down on top of them as soon as the host called them in for backup.
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Devcon was supposed to be having a quiet night waiting for his current target to get out of the bar and head home, but chatter over the local Con comm network had caught his attention.
Two suspects fleeing, suspected in a multitude of crimes and murders, Soundwave was in pursuit. Devcon rolled his optics and sat up, scanning the surrounding area. It wasn't too hard to spot Laserbeak as he flew over buildings, making sharp curves and cuts to follow his targets, and Devcon transformed, making his way over. If these two really were behind everything they were suspected of, it would be worth it to take the trouble to get them free and clear.
Though even better, he realized as he landed on another rooftop in the direction they were headed, if he could get Soundwave, there'd be quite the reward brought in.
The two dark grounders practically flew by, and to his great satisfaction, a klik later came Soundwave. Devcon took aim, fired, and hit.
He heard a screech from behind and turned to see Laserbeak banking sharply and heading back towards the injured host. He'd missed the kill shot, and now there were going to be cassettes converging on his location. With a quiet curse, he transformed and took off again, just barely missing hitting the flying cassette on the way out.
By this point, the city Enforcers were zeroing in on the pair and Devcon flew to them, transforming and landing in front, hands outstretched in a universal peace symbol. He was half surprised to see them screech to a fishtailing halt in front of him and more than half impressed by the twisting acrobatics of the slightly smaller one and the smooth, well trained precision of his partner.
They landed in perfect unison, blasters draw and aimed.
"Talk fast," Prowl growled, the stress evident in his voice.
"I shot Soundwave for you, Seekers are being called in, follow me if you want to live?" Devcon suggested.
They glanced at each other, then at the sky, looked back, and nodded.
"Right," Devcon said, grinning. "Let's go."
He led them back into the deep interior of the city, flying as low to the ground between the buildings as he could, making for the entrance to his current camp. They made it inside just before a trine flew overhead in a search pattern. Devcon set the alarm and lock on the door and turned around, only to find the blasters pointed at him again. "Really, mechs?"
"Habit," Prowl said simply, but his aim didn't waver. "Designation, purpose in rescuing us."
"Devcon, and you looked like you needed it," Devcon said, hand over his spark. "You got the 'Cons all chattering."
"About what?" Jazz asked.
"Anyone Soundwave chases gets 'em chattering. And I figure anyone that Soundwave wants caught is someone I want free," he said, shrugging. "Autobot, by the way."
They gave him an alarmed look at how easily he said that word out loud and he chuckled. "No one's listening, I promise. This part of town isn't rich enough to be interesting."
"I don't suppose the chatter included why he's suddenly hunting us?" Prowl asked cautiously, but he was lowering his weapon.
"Besides breaking into a VIP's estate?" Devcon asked. "Said you're suspected of being behind those 'Con disappearances lately. Which, can I say, if you are, nicely done."
"How do we know you're not with them?" Jazz asked.
"You don't," Devcon said, heading by them to flop down on a lounge. "But you're free to leave whenever. Bounty hunter, myself, bag the ones with prices attached and that's definitely not you so far as I can tell."
"Autobots have no reason to care about us," Prowl said cautiously. He gave Jazz a look and flicked his fingers, silently asking if his partner agreed with the idea of staying for a while and getting more intel from this mech.
Jazz cocked his head in answer, indication that he was thinking the same thing. "So Devcon," he said, shifting into a chameleon-like mimic of the other mech's field and attitude. "What brings you to Kaon?"
"Pretty much every mech worth hunting is stationed here or comes through often," he said easily and looked over at the pair that were strong by any standard he cared to use. "And it keeps me well away from the more rule-oriented officers."
Jazz shot his mate a grin. "I can understand the lure of that," he said, the teasing subharmonics in his voice adding to Devcon's suspicion that they were more than just work partners.
"Got designations yourself?" he asked.
"Praedator and Tenebrae," Jazz said, gesturing first to Prowl and then to himself. "Not Autobots," he added, grinning.
"What are you doing in Kaon hunting 'Cons if you aren't Autobots?" Devcon asked, bewildered. "Death wish?"
"We lost good friends in Praxus," Prowl rumbled, letting that nightmare stand on its own. "We were there when it went down. We don't have an army, but we've got some skills."
"...Ah," Devcon said, nodding. The fall of Praxus had shaken their entire planet in so many different ways, from the shock of a neutral city being demolished without clear provocation to the disgust of an Empire that refused to step in for aid because of that same neutrality. "Ever think about joining?"
"What makes the Autobots any more worthy of respect or allegiance than the Empire?" Jazz asked.
"They pay well?" Devcon suggested, grinning, then chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, they're good mecha. Really just trying to help stop Megatron before we look around and realize we don't have a planet anymore."
"You call them good mecha and yet you work to distance yourself from them," Prowl pointed out dryly.
"Yeah, well," Devcon shrugged, "Personal quirk. I like my own style. They're starting to regulate more. Wasn't quite as organized when I joined up. But, hey, they kicked the 'Cons out of Iacon, gotta give 'em some credit for that one."
"How did Iacon go down?" Prowl was suddenly very interested. "The newsfeeds aren't exactly the most reliable around here."
"Oh, that," Devcon said, and stretched out, then looked at them, and realized he was taking up the only piece of furniture in the room. "Oh, er, sorry, never had guests..." He sat up, but it still didn't leave much space.
Jazz chuckled. "We're fine," he said, and his visor flickered in a wink before he turned to Prowl. "Lap?" he purred.
Prowl chuckled and gave Jazz an indulgent look before sitting on the couch opposite Devcon and settled himself to make a comfortable lap for Jazz. "Iacon?"
Devcon waited until Jazz finished snuggling up to what had to be his lover, and nodded. "Right, Iacon. Gets blasted all to smithereens, Prime dead, Senate dead, end of the world, panic everywhere. The 'Bots used the panic to slip in unnoticed and we used guerrilla tactics to weaken the Cons and government until we could fight back for real. Not many of us but there's some good processors."
"Is it true they've taken up residency of Iacon and claim to be the government now?" Jazz asked.
Devcon nodded. "No more Senate, they're operating under strict military rule and hierarchy. But they don't want that to last, it's just until they can get the planet back under control."
"So who leads, and what do they plan for 'after'?" Prowl asked, honestly listening to what he knew was something of a recruitment effort, even if Devcon wasn't a recruiter.
"Optimus Prime, officially, but-"
Prowl and Jazz sat straight up, yellow visors going bright.
"Prime?" Jazz said.
"How did we get a new Prime without a Senate?" Prowl scowled. "How is this Prime any different from the last one?"
"And the ones before that?" Jazz added, wearing the same frown.
"Matrix chose him on its own, at least that's the story," Devcon said. "And he's different because he was just a dockworker before, he was seeking refuge after a Decepticon attack. He means it when he says he wants a new Cybertron, one where everyone can be who they want to be. Get rid of the class system, let everyone start fresh with the same chances."
"It sounds too good for anyone with power to back," Prowl said cautiously. "What is he willing to do, planning to do, with those that object?"
"Why haven't the Decepticons accepted a peace treaty yet?" Jazz added. "That's what Megatron's always saying he wants."
"Fragging 'Con," Devcon said. "When he says he wants everyone to start over with the same chances, he means he wants everyone to start on the same level and let the strongest step all over the weak on their way up. A system governed by strength. Prime wants a system where everyone is supported. It's a bit ... idealized, I'll admit, and he's not actually that good at backing it up with force. That's where his officers come in; he's got a staff that can make hard choices for him. And we can't trust a peace treaty with the 'Cons, they've already proven themselves willing to kill innocents, it's surrender or nothing."
Jazz grunted. Praxus was enough for that to be believed. He could feel Prowl's agreement with his assessment.
"So Optimus Prime's not willing to simply level the opposition, even though that's the only way?" Prowl summarized.
"Exactly," Devcon said, pointing at him. "He's all about peaceful solution and second chances. Though even he can tell that any kind of treaty with the 'Cons, or any kind of end to this that isn't a clear victory or surrender, won't be good for anyone."
"Even second chances for Decepticons?" Jazz asked.
"Even them," Devcon said. "But he's got a way of sort of telling if a spark is good, I've heard. Or if it intends to harm others. But that might just be talk, most of this is filtered through about twenty levels and half a planet before it gets to me, I'm not exactly in Iacon central," he chuckled.
"It's still closer than we are," Prowl said simply. "The filtering is expected. What is done with mecha that he deems unredeemable?"
Devcon sighed. "That, I'm not so sure on. I've heard of processor wipes being done on a few of the POWs, beyond that, I think his officers probably quietly take care of the rest where he won't see. How much he knows is going on is anyone's guess, especially mine."
"Any idea how he tells?" Jazz asked.
"Not a clue," Devcon admitted, shaking his head. "Never had it done on me, whatever it is. It's only for ones with a bad past."
"A bounty hunter without a bad past?" Jazz teased.
"What can I say," Devcon said with a small smirk.
Jazz hummed, looking him up and down, before running his fingers questioningly along Prowl's arm.
Prowl nuzzled his love. "Go ahead," he trilled softly.
Devcon gave a questioning look to the pair, not sure what the conversation they'd just had was, until Jazz shifted up and forward, a brushing teek of his field communicating what he wanted more than well enough. Devcon's flight engine rumbled.
"Obviously you have no qualms about accepting payment for your efforts," Jazz said, and as he relaxed back against his mate, his legs fell open a little more. "My question is, do you accept it in forms other than credits?" His hand moved down his frame, settling lightly on the inner juncture of leg and hip. "For helping us out of such a tight spot and all."
"Pit, I wish more of my payment came like this," Devcon chuckled, moving forward. "You just let me know the next time you need help with something."
Jazz grinned, and this time, his legs spread very purposefully and his valve cover slid away. When they left here, they would take new frames and Devcon would likely never see them again, but for now, he could add one more spike to his collection.
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"Ow-frag, d'they hafta make these so hard to get into?" Jazz muttered, squeezing through a duct in the ventilation system that dropped them down into a huge room with massive energon storage silos located deep beneath a Decepticon base. He landed in a silent crouch before standing and looking up to his mate, who was still looking down through the small opening.
"If they didn't," Prowl said as he shimmied his way through to join his mate, "we'd have taken it out centuries ago."
Jazz half pounced Prowl from behind once he was on his pedes, purring and biting at his neck. "Always so logical, Prowler," he grinned, then pulled away and stretched with a low, pleasured moan, relieved to finally be out of the cramped conditions they'd spent almost three orns waiting in. "Mm, right, this way, I think," he hummed as they set off between the massive holding tanks for their scouted access point.
"One of us needs to be," Prowl chuckled as he finished unkinking his frame and followed his mate. "Next time, we plan for easier access."
Jazz stopped and looked down at his frame, twisting at little as he ran his hands down his sides to finally rest on his hips. "You callin' me bulky?" he asked, grinning, looking over his shoulder.
Prowl grinned back and stepped against his lover's back to rub his groin against Jazz's aft. "For getting through those ducts, yes. For pounding into and pounding into me, you're just right."
Jazz ground against him, head tossed back and arm up and around Prowl's helm. "Later, lover," he promised before walking again, following the trail of piping that led around to the main holding silo and found the ladder to the roof of it exactly where marked on the schematics.
Up on the large, flat top they found the locked-and welded-maintenance hatch and stood there for a moment, staring at the unexpected obstacle.
"You'd think they didn't want anyone to get in here," Jazz said, head cocked, hands on his hips.
"Never stopped us before," Prowl chuckled and climbed up to apply an acid gel to the weld.
Jazz settled in to wait at a safe distance while his mate handled and applied the gel with careful precision. The gel would eat through their armor as fast as the welding if they weren't careful with it.
"I saved you a seat," Jazz said, patting the inside of his thigh from where he was reclining to wait for the acid to work.
"You always do the nicest things," Prowl trilled and claimed a strut-melting kiss before setting between Jazz's legs with his back to his mate's chest.
"I'm a giver," Jazz agreed amiably, arms wrapped around him as the metal hissed and bubbled. He nuzzled against Prowl's neck, fingers playing over his frame, dipping lower. "How long d'you think that'll take?"
"Three kliks," Prowl rumbled and tipped his helm for a kiss. "Long enough to get good and riled."
"Oh excellent," Jazz said, and the teasing, wandering strokes suddenly became focused and direct, moving immediately to their target and his palm rubbed in circles over Prowl's spike cover. "Just riled, huh?"
A low moan accompanied the cover sliding open, the response ingrained and reflexive by now, but no less welcome. "Unless you work very fast."
"Ooh, a challenge," Jazz purred, and the magnets in one palm clicked on while he pulled a cable and tapped it to Prowl's chest, plugging in and sending a pulsing flow of energy over as soon as the connection was made, feeding over his own charge from the thrill of their task. "You know better than ta make challenges."
"I know exactly when to make them," Prowl shuddered and retaliated with a strong pulse right back to his mate. His spike slid free and welcomed the hum of the magnetic field and Jazz's palm. "Know what you can do," he let his helm fall back, offering his throat to his love.
Jazz bit and nibbled, not taking any time to tease as he moved both hands to wrap around Prowl's length, pulling with one, palming the tip with the other, playing every ridge and texture to his advantage. He sucked at neck cables and created a steady feedback for the energy that Prowl was sending. "When we get home," he murmured, "I'm going to push you down and ride you so hard."
The combination of promise and sensation made Prowl arch and keen. His frame reacted to his love without hesitation, thrusting into the grip and magnetic field as he lost himself in the flow of electrons. It was a hard, nearly violent ride to the crest of his overload, and when he screamed his release it was only across the cable. His vocalizer muted to avoid drawing too much attention.
Jazz purred deeply, coaxing out spurt after spurt of transfluid, getting it all over the hand that was cupped around the tip. "There," he grinned once Prowl had slumped back against him, lifting his hand up and spreading his fingers out, showing off the strands that dripped between them before brought his hand back to begin licking it clean in an almost business-like manner. "So how'd I do?"
"Three kliks, 431 nanokliks," Prowl gasped out, still a bit dazed. This kind of overload didn't come with the same warm sated sensation as a slower buildup, but it still felt good. "I'll have to reward you properly when we're done."
"And I'll hafta work on my technique," Jazz said as he cleaned off the last finger, chuckling. He nuzzled Prowl's neck one more time before standing and pulling a crowbar from his subspace. He walked to the hatch and carefully worked his way around, loosening the entire cover before standing. Bracing himself against Prowl, he stamped his pede down right over the middle, sending the entire thing falling into the tank. The energon inside splashed as the heavy hatch hit and he leaned over and looked in, watching it sink. "Yeah, that acid probably won't be very good for them," he commented while tossing the crowbar in before that could dissolve as well.
"Somehow, I think the poison will be more noticeable," Prowl chuckled darkly as he took a package from subspace. "Time to leave a mark."
Jazz hummed and stood behind him, arms around his waist and purring as he watched. "I'm so glad you remembered to bring that," he grinned. "It would've been unfortunate to forget it." He stood perfectly still as Prowl looked the poison over for a few moments, a dehydrated, powdered substance that would cause massive corrosion in the systems of whoever drank the infected energon.
"We would have had to fall back on plan B," Prowl chuckled and sprinkled the substance into the huge silo. "Rust well, Decepticons."
"Hope they're thirsty," Jazz said, looking in over Prowl's shoulder. The energon sizzled and churned for a few moments before settling back down, looking like nothing had ever disturbed it, and grinned, visor shining brightly. "We had a plan B?"
"Explosives," Prowl grinned savagely before following his mate down.
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There was a rumor going around Kaon, one that came all the way from Iacon, one that held very little interest for most of the city's inhabitants, but was more than interesting to Jazz and Prowl.
The Prime, so it was said, was offering amnesty for all past crimes to anyone volunteering for service in the Autobot forces. He was offering new lives, a clean slate, and all he wanted in return was a vow to stand under him and with him against Megatron and the Decepticons.
It sounded almost too good to be true, and for the two bereft mecha deep within Decepticon territories, it needed a very serious talk.
"Remember what Devcon said, about him having a way to tell if a spark is good," Jazz said, frowning up at the sky. They were lying next to each together out in the open in the badlands, talking plainly, barely even monitoring for anyone approaching.
"Yes," Prowl murmured uneasily. "But we have been in the core of Decepticon territory, where both our targets live, and made no progress on our mission. We need a different road."
"And imagine being able to use our designations, our actual designations," Jazz murmured, squeezing Prowl's hand. "You cleared of the kidnapping charges, both of us cleared of everything else we've done, not having to worry about being turned over to him."
"We can be bonded, legally," Prowl added. "We can wear Radiance's designation and our real ones once more."
Jazz shuttered his optics and hummed, unable to hide how much he wanted that, then sighed. "But I have to wonder if it's really as good as it sounds, if it would hold true for us. Or if they'd wipe us. Could be a trap to get the worst criminals in."
"What crimes have we committed against the Autobots, though?" Prowl asked thoughtfully. "Everything since we arrived in Praxus has been against Decepticon targets, if it was criminal."
"It's not the who I'm worried about," Jazz said uneasily. "It's the how... the..." He trailed off for a moment. "What if he wouldn't accept a sadist? And we've killed mecha who aren't Decepticons, too."
"True," Prowl began making a fully compiled, organized list of all they'd done. "If we want the gain, we'll have to risk it. The Autobots can offer a great deal. If it is a trap and they don't extinguish us immediately, I believe we can escape."
Jazz nodded, squeezing Prowl's hand tightly. "Being able to cry out your designation," he whispered with a shiver. "Being legally bonded, wearing Radiance's designation, having your frame back... If the Prime is everything we've heard, the risk is worth it."
"So is the risk for greater resources," Prowl shifted to draw his mate close. "Eleven hundred vorns and we've accomplished none of our goals. We haven't even made progress. It's time for a new tactic and I think the Autobots are a good place to start."
"We've been an awful rusty spot on their plating, though, you have to admit," Jazz said with a grin as he curled up with his lover. "To Iacon, then."