Chapter 28

The Deal's Off

Author's Notes OMG YES I'M FINALLY POSTING IT! I fought a long, hard battle with this chapter. I only just finished the edits on this at the beginning of this month. I've rearranged the scenes so many times that I couldn't tell you what the original order was anymore. Augh. I hope to never have to do that again, at least not any time soon. I'm posting this, because all I'll do if I continue to sit on it is just poke it more. And I'm kinda sick of looking at it.

I cannot thank autumnsparrow enough for taking the time to beta this chapter. She rocks. Thank you, Birdie! And there's Tia, who listened to me rant for months (YEARS! Remember, sick of looking at it. Yeah...) about this chapter. Thank you Tiamat! And my readers who have waited so long for this chapter. I wish I could promise the next one soon, but, I shan't.

Blue dots scattered across the streets of Straxus, intermixed with a handful of purple and a few brown. Here and there yellow blinked idly on the screen. Prowl examined the map on the screen, picking amongst the streets and unmarked buildings. His attention wavered, distracted by processes normally handled by his battle computer. He couldn't focus, still cooling down from an intense overload that had left him reeling on the Decepticon's desk for over a breem.

Carefully, he pressed his finger against the screen. "Here. Last one. Neutral energon silo."

Another dot lit underneath his finger, marking the building.

Vertigo shifted behind him, leaning in to peer closely at the map. "Is that all of them?"

Prowl continued to consider the map, searching the street names for anything that looked familiar. Finally, he sat back, all too aware of the larger mech standing behind him. His doorwings twitched with the Decepticon's proximity. "Yes."

"Good. Now, then what are the passcodes."

Prowl leaned back a little further, and resolutely lifted his doorwings. "You promised medical supplies."

Vertigo snarled. "Answer the slagging question."

Prowl turned his head toward Vertigo, his lips pressed together in a firm line.

Vertigo lashed out, clubbing the smaller mech across the head, and knocking him to one side. The tank's foot crashed down on his roof, grinding him into the floor. Prowl's prominent chest bent forward, pulling painfully at his torso joints.

Prowl cried out, scrabbling at the floor to push himself up and away from the horrible weight on his back.

The Decepticon hooked his foot under the tactician's canopy, and promptly flipped Prowl onto his side. Vicious kicks to Prowl's chest knocked the Enforcer back on his doorwing, twisting the appendage the wrong way. "When I ask you a slagging question, I expect a fragging answer."

Prowl grunted, rocking with the next malicious kick. His doorwing, even twisted out of joint, prevented him from rolling completely on his back. It made every kick that much more brutal, knocking him across the floor like a piece of trash, and bending his plating in until it scraped against his systems.

"Get up!" Vertigo struck out again, lifting Prowl up off the floor with the force of his kick.

Prowl shoved himself away, trying to avoid the next blow at the cost of more of his paint job as he scooted away from the mech's foot. He gained his feet and stood before the more massive Decepticon, his doorwing held stiffly behind him. "I refuse to cooperate when my soldiers are beyond my ability to repair," Prowl spat.

The Decepticon swung at Prowl again, but the tactician ducked, backing into the console. "You should be fragging grateful that you're in the same cell as your bondmates. How about if I toss you in a cell down the hall, huh? How would you like that? Then you couldn't repair them." Pincers snatched at the tactician's jaw, latching under the hinge and wrenching his head to the side. Prowl staggered along, vocalizer keening in pain. "I'm being slagging generous and this is how you repay me? How about if I keep you chained up in my personal quarters and you'll never see those two again?"

Sparks erupted from stretched cables, millions of shocks along Prowl's sensors. His vocalizer glitched and he couldn't speak. For a breem? Two? Three? Maybe even an entire cycle before he managed to get any words out. "Never talk again."

The red optics narrowed, and Vertigo snarled. He yanked Prowl forward, throwing the smaller mech into the balcony railing that stood over the foyer to the Decepticon's grandiose office. "It would be risky to kill them both, but what about one of them? Do you think you can lose one and survive yourself?"

Those words wrenched something within Prowl's systems, and his doorwings shivered at the thought of. . . He couldn't complete that thought in this state, he barely had a grip on himself as it was. "You can't guarantee that the survivor would pull through, either. Twins tend not to outlast one another in death. "

The claws bore into Prowl's chest, and the metal bent with a painful wail. "How true. But my medics think that they can be sustained on life support, it should be enough to keep you functioning as well."

Systems froze, and Prowl's processor whirled desperately. He didn't want that. Oh, Primus. His job was to protect his soldiers, both of them. He could think through this even without his battle computer. He had to keep Vertigo from killing either of the Toughlines. "I can't stop you from doing as you like, but you'd have to wait for whatever handouts Megatron deems worthy of you, because you won't get a single scrap more of information from me."

The red optics narrowed and Vertigo snarled. He yanked Prowl forward, throwing the smaller mech into the railing that stood over the entrance to the Decepticon's grandiose office. "I could tell him that you died in transit, and that is the reason I killed those neutral bounty hunters. Not that it would matter as those were our orders, anyways. Then I would take your information straight from your central processors."

Prowl strained for a retort. He slogged though his memory files and all the… faces. "Too many have seen me, you could never pull that off." Prowl caught himself before he flipped over the railing, his only working doorwing flared out to catch his balance. He forced out a laugh, though he didn't have to try so hard. "If you had ever planned to do that you would have interfaced with me in an astrotick. You won't, though. Even you aren't that stup-zzk."

Vertigo lashed out, clubbing Prowl in the face. "I do not fear Megatron, Autoscrap. He is an idiot that could never have captured you successfully. Look how many times he has faced off with Optimus and never even gotten close to killing him. He could even stand in front Prime and completely miss the shot. "

Only a firm grip on the railing kept Prowl on his feet, his vision wavered, but he couldn't stop baiting the Decepticon or he'd give in to the terror pounding through his emotional relays. He had to compensate for the loss of his battle computer. "Megatron at least faces his enemies on the battlefield. You are such a brave mech with your captive."

Prowl thought he might have lost a few breem after that. He only knew that one moment he lay across the railing and the next he found himself on the floor. He didn't have time to register his surroundings as a heavy weight came crashing down, pinning him to the floor.

"Miserable piece of scrap!" Vertigo seized Prowl's chevron and slammed Prowl's face into the floor numerous times.

Dazed, and with his audio sensors shrieking with feedback, Prowl was only vaguely aware of the sudden presence of Vertigo's guards.

"Get him out of my sight! Impudent fool. I can't risk killing him before giving him to Megatron."

The guards lifted Prowl and dragged him out of the office.

"But don't worry, Autobot. We're not through yet, you and I."

Doorwings flexed out to catch his balance. Though he lacked any depth perception and static flickered across his single optic, his hands never stopped moving.. He twisted off another thirty centimeters of fried wires and burnt insulation. He cleaned the brittle remains out of the open wound. His hand brushed against live wires, inciting a small spray of sparks. The lights overhead flickered fitfully, their dim glow cast skewed shadows on the grimy floor of their small cell.

The mech twitched under his hands. Blue optics powered on, and black fingers seized his wrist. "Nn-no. Stop. Sto-p." Ventilators wheezed as Sideswipe tried to sit up.

"Shh, calm do wn." Prowl gently pressed the mech back down, and his hands lingered to smooth a stroke on red metal.

Frantic headshaking met his efforts and the grip tightened on the tactician's wrist. "No more, please no more."

Prowl pulled the hand off his wrist to let his fingers intertwine with Sideswipe's, and he gave them a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay."

"S-Sunny?"The mech's optics focused fitfully on Prowl for a brief moment, but no recognition lit his face .

Lips pressed together, Prowl shook his head once. "No. It's Prowl."

Confusion knitted the Toughline's brow ridge for another brief moment. "Prowl?" Blue optics stared long and hard into Prowl's own, before he finally relaxed. "Oh, Prowl…" Sideswipe's grip tightened, and he leaned his head towards the officer.

Prowl dimmed his optics, and stroked his hand up the wide chestplate and over the dirty neck cables. He brushed the joining of the cheekguard to the crest of the helm.

Sideswipe whimpered and flinched away from the touch.

Prowl quickly pulled his hand away, his lips pressed together and his doorwings dipped low. But he could not give himself time to allow the rejection to hurt. His battle computer whirred, calculating chances, possibilities, probabilities. Plans for escape (but none within an acceptable risk percentage), information that he could (or could not) relay to Vertigo (provided they receive the medical supplies promised; Prowl didn't hold out much hope for that), the effect captivity was having on them, the amount of damage inflicted on his lover. The things done to cause this amount of damage. If they didn't leave, the fearful reactions would likely only get worse. "I need to finish repairing your damage, before the wiring has a chance to short out."

Sideswipe changed his grip to cling fretfully to the black and white frame, a confusing contrast to his prior reaction to Prowl's touch. His head shook from side to side in refusal. "No, not right now. Please. Let me just lay here and wait for Sunny. He should be coming soon."

Prowl twitched his doorwings, but accepted the request. He wanted to ask—though he didn't necessarily want to know—what the Decepticons had done to him. He muted his vocalizer against the question, if only for the sake of the warrior's pride. If only for the terror that lurked deep within the lens of his optics

Footsteps made Prowl lift his head: the echoing, heavy thuds of a large mech and the distinct step-drag-step of an injured one. His hand stilled on the black helmet, intent on the cell door as the sounds drew closer.

Sideswipe struggled to sit up, and this time Prowl helped lean him against the wall. The warrior kept one arm firmly wrapped around Prowl's canopy. His head came to rest against the officer's shoulder plate.

"What about you? How badly were you damaged?" The black head pulled away, turning so that the suddenly serious optics could sweep over Prowl's frame.

Prowl shrugged his doorwings. He didn't really want to contemplate what had happened for the past megacycle. "Not as badly as you have been. Likely not as badly as Sunstreaker, either."

Sideswipe's lips pressed into a thin, straight line. Then he pursed them together, his gaze locked on the tactician's frame.

Prowl sat up straighter,. He didn't need to look down to know that his lover's optics lingered an the patches of bare metal that showed through his paint job. He didn't need to look down to see the large chunk of white paint missing from the bottom of his thigh. Sideswipe did not need to try to imagine how the paint had scraped off in places, or how the red and grey made an appearance on the normally white and black plates.

He lowered the volume of his vocalizer, until his words resonated through his frame to muffle them from the approaching mechs. "They believe we are bondmates. I have done nothing to correct this assumption."

Sideswipe lay his head back against the wall with a soft, humorless laugh. "That's funny."

Prowl frowned, optics narrowing. He didn't see the humor in the situation, and told Sideswipe as much. He knew how reason could be overridden by terror in times of crisis. Had imprisonment finally accomplished what vorn of war and countless (actually 1,358 to be precise, because Prowl had counted) battles had never manage?

The red mech's lips pulled to one side. "Oh yeah, it's a slagging riot. The Decepticons have actually figured out our biggest secret. Something none of the Autobots even know about." Sideswipe leaned toward Prowl, body whining in protest, and his shaking fingers touched Prowl's chestplate. "It's fragging hilarious that I could kiss you, right here and right now and not have to worry about anyone finding out. Here. In the middle of a Decepticon stronghold."

Prowl narrowed his optics, and pulled Sideswipe's hand away from his chest. "Your sense of humor has a tendency to elude me, Sides."

Sideswipe laughed softly in spite of the pain he must be in, and he leaned closer still. "It's funny that I can do this." His lips brushed against Prowl's chin, his cheek, before finally briefly settling on his mouth. "And I don't have to worry about who's around.

Prowl froze at first surprised by the gesture. Initial protests that they shouldn't be doing this died with the realization that Sideswipe was right. He might be mad, but no less correct. It didn't matter. The Decepticons expected this. They would be suspicious otherwise. Prowl then laughed too, his vocalizer buzzing with static, and returned the kiss.

Sideswipe pulled away with a pained whine of hydraulics. He studied Prowl's face, seemingly oblivious to the continued approach of the guards and their prisoner. He leaned back with a groan. "You know, Sunny's gonna need one too."

Prowl needed a moment to process that. Then he frowned at the mech. "You simply have to go and spoil it, don't you?"

Sideswipe shrugged, but his smirk widened into a grin. "I kinda figured you would have thought of that."

His gaze suddenly turned to the bars, and he fell silent.

Two guards walked into sight, massive when compared with the limp yellow thing that dangled between them.

The hum of the bars faded, and they flung the body into the cell with a resounding crash as it struck the wall. It lay unmoving there, outside of a slight shudder.

Lip curled in a snarl, Sideswipe tensed, poised to heave himself to his feet.

Prowl grabbed at his shoulders and pressed him back into the wall. "Calm down,"

Sideswipe narrowed his optics his gaze locked on the cons, but subsided with a resigned sigh.

Sunstreaker moved then, one arm hanging limp as he shoved himself to his feet, to lean against the wall. Prowl could see how much pain he was in and his obvious and unsuccessful attempts to hide it. Sunstreaker would never come in contact with such a filthy surface otherwise. He glared back at the guards, face hidden by his audio vents. The pink light of the energon bars shimmered on his scuffed and scratched yellow paint, and the tears and dent on his metal frame as they reactivated

Sideswipe nudged Prowl with his elbow. Bright optics blinked up at Prowl, even though the officer knew the fuel shouldn't be wasted on them. Sideswipe didn't say anything, but he didn't have to; Prowl understood perfectly.

Even though he wished he didn't.

Resigned, Prowl stood, widening his optics and lifting his brow ridge into a concerned mein as he took the few long steps to the golden warrior's side.

Ice blue optics turned to look past Prowl and at the other mech. "Primus, Sides, is that all you ever think about?"

Prowl flicked his doorwings once, aware of the guards' gaze on them.

Sunstreaker continued to ignore the officer's approach until Prowl cupped his hands behind the black vents and tilted his head down. Sunstreaker tensed at the touch of Prowl's lips first to his forehead, and then to his cheek seam.

Grey lips hovered next to the golden slits. "They believe we are bondmates."

Sunstreaker's hand went to Prowl's side, gripping the gap where Prowl's doorwings emerged. The ice blue optics flashed down at the officer, a growl rumbling his engine, but he leaned down and kissed Prowl, lingering only for a few astroseconds before walking on past.

The golden mech crouched down next to his brother. Concern narrowed his optics as he lifted a hand toward the red mech.

Sideswipe leaned back against the wall, but when the golden hand rested against his cheekguard, he tilted his head into his brother's palm.

Sunstreaker's gaze traveled over Sideswipe's frame, as though he needed to memorize every dent and scratch. But even though his optics stayed locked on Sides, when he spoke he addressed Prowl. "So what's your plan?"

Prowl twitched his working doorwing. He didn't have to ask Sunstreaker what he meant by plan. It wouldn't take his battle computer to realize he wanted. He narrowed his optics at the normally golden mech. At this rate, he wasn't sure he could actually trust Sunstreaker to keep their cover. He frowned as he carefully considered his reply to the other mech. The problem of Decepticons listening in on their conversation was a constant in Prowl's processor, added to the need to keep the front of their presumed bond with each other. Prowl could only give so much information before it became obvious that the bond was merely a ruse. He decided to just keep the explanations to a minimum. "You will know it when you need to."

Sunstreaker snarled, but Sideswipe touched his leg and the two shared a moment of silent, inconspicuous communication.

"Fine," the golden mech gruffly conceded. He glared at Prowl, finally raking his optics over him. "I see they treated you as well as they did us."

Prowl stiffened, and then crouched down facing them. He flared his aching doorwings and angled himself to prevent his voice from carrying far behind him. He didn't want any listening device to catch their discussion. "Sunstreaker, I realize the arrangement doesn't suit you, but this is the best way I can think of to keep you and Sideswipe safe. It will be a difficult enough illusion to hold, but please remember to act as though we are bonded. You shouldn't ask such a question so loud."

Sunstreaker's frown deepened, eying Prowl's intact frame, his engine growling unsteadily. Prowl didn't need to look down at himself, he knew what Sunstreaker implied.

"Really, Sunny. I know he's not as damaged as you think he should be, but come on he still looks like scrap! Besides, this is Prowl we're talking about. Stop it." Sideswipe turned his head away from the golden hand; he slid sideways down the wall until he could put his head on Prowl's thigh.

Prowl rested a hand on the black head, and met Sunstreaker's glare with one of his own. He did not welcome the memory batch that the warrior's question had activated.

Prowl glanced down at the black head, wanting to be more comfortable for the both of them, the officer turned about, holding Sideswipe's head up with a steady hand while he settled himself against the wall next to him. Then he lay his lover's head back on his thigh. Decepticon frames and hands pressed along his body, the leering faces of the officers Vertigo had given him to. Worse still, he didn't entertain the thought of who he might have killed with the information he'd given. His soldiers did not need to know. "These are Decepticons, what else did you expect?" Vertigo had kept him for nearly the entire megacycle since he'd taken them from the bounty hunters.

A sigh rushed out of the red frame, and Prowl glanced down at the mech, unable to see his lover's face beyond his chestplate. Sideswipe shifted turning to lay on his back with a protest of joints and the squeal of his head on Prowl's thigh. The movement prompted a series of sparks from the injury. Sideswipe laid a hand on the open hole with a whimper.

Sunstreaker snapped his optics over to his brother, and all hostility drained out of his posture. He stood and crossed in front of Prowl to crouch on the officer's other side. He didn't look at Prowl, but reached under the black bumper to nudge his brother's head. "Slagger, why haven't you had Prowl fix that."

Sideswipe's head twisted around on Prowl's thigh, his left audio horn scraping the bottom of Prowl's bumper and the back of his head resting against Prowl's torso. "Wanted to make sure he didn't use up all the supplies on me. Slagger yourself."

Sunstreaker straightened, and leaned against the wall next to Prowl. "Tch, I don't need anything. Get yourself repaired." His hand slid between Prowl's canopy and the wall.

Prowl stiffened at the golden twin's proximity, snapping his optics toward Sunstreaker. Words died in his vocalizer when he saw the way Sunstreaker's arm hung limp at his side. He hastily set Sideswipe's head down and turned to peer more closely at the other warrior's arm.

Sideswipe sat up with a grunt and another sputter of sparks, bracing himself on an elbow. He still pressed his hand against his side as he stared at what had caught Prowl's attention. "Primus, Sunny. You-" The red twin's expression hardened. "You fragging idiot. Why didn't you say anything?"

Crouching down, Prowl examined the torn paneling with a frown.

The arm hung limply at Sunstreaker's side, the fingers of his hand scraped the floor and bent at random joints. Sunstreaker glanced down at his useless arm and scoffed. "I've suffered worse than this. Fragging Cons wouldn't know how to torture someone if a medic pointed out the most vulnerable parts."

Prowl glanced up at Sunstreaker, his frown deepening. "They do have cameras in here and are likely recording our conversation. Don't encourage them to try harder."

Feet clanged in the hallway, startling the three of them into looking wide-opticked at the cell door.

A guard walked into view on the other side of the bars. He held a tray in his hands. Three small cubes of energon cast a muddy glow over the mech's blue and pink paint job. His red optics traveled over the three Autobots in the cell, lip curling in a sneer, daring them to try something as he brought the bars down. Setting the tray down, he kicked it toward them, sloshing the energon over the edges.

Prowl grabbed Sunstreaker when the golden mech made as if to lunge across the short distance. From where he sat, he could see the tip of a rifle poking around the edge of the threshold; a mech lurking around the corner. Had they made any attempt to escape, the hidden mech would shoot, not caring who he hit. Prowl calculated that Sunstreaker never would have made it without being taken down, and possibly killed.

"That fragger!" the golden mech hissed.

Sideswipe's engine growled, an echo of his brother's anger.

"Do not push them" Prowl shook Sunstreaker's shoulder, drawing the mech's glower to him. "Don't jeopardize our steady source of energon. I will not allow you to jeopardize any of us. There is still plenty left in the cubes," Prowl calmly pointed out. Though the amounts were low compared to what they were accustomed to.

The guard waited a moment, to see if Sunstreaker would follow through on the threat in his posture. When nothing happened he sneered again and turned away from them to head back down the corridor.

Prowl stood (determining himself to be the most mobile of the three of them) and retrieved the tray of cubes. He carried it back, ensuring that no more energon sloshed over the sides. Then he handed one to Sunstreaker, and the other to Sideswipe. "Both of you power down whatever nonessential systems you can. Conserve your energon." He paused to consider their damage. "Sunstreaker shut down your left arm, as well. Sideswipe, make yourself comfortable and shut off your relays below your fuel tank." He met the red mech's surprised optics. The command would leave him crippled, not even able to respond in a timely manner as the spinal relays required a few breem to boot back up. "Refuel, and when you're done, I'll finish what repairs I can on you." Prowl sat down between the twins, and relaxed against the wall. He took up the remaining cube, and nursed it slowly; the low grade sour and dirty in his mouth. He stared at nothing in particular, running equations and scenarios through his battle computer. Prowl trusted the two soldiers to immediately notify him of any trouble.

Prowl accessed the maps stored in his battle computer, pulling up the maps of various Autobot controlled cities. Iacon had already been combed through during his session with Vertigo, before being brought to this cell to join the battered twins. The Decepticon officer had also shown him a map the nearby Autobot stronghold: Armistead, and now Prowl calculated that he could predict what the Decepticon would ask the next time he came for the tactician.

Of course this will all be moot if Vertigo doesn't deliver on his part of the bargain. Prowl didn't hold out much hope, taking into consideration that he was counting on a Decepticon to keep his word.

He inventoried the medical supplies they had left., subtracting what he'd already used for the partial repair on Sideswipe, and then what he would need to finish those and then repair the yet to be examined in Sunstreaker's arm.

He came up sadly lacking.

Fortunately, the Decepticons had placed them in the same cell, small as it was, though that might have had more to do with their supposedly being bondmates than Prowl's request. Prowl could access his battle computer, but stuck in this single cell, without the proper tools the probabilities were not in their favor.

Prowl took another mouthful of the horrid energon, swirling the liquid around his mouth in an attempt to filter out some of the grit and grime. He needed more medical supplies, and Vertigo would not give them up easily.

Sideswipe tossed the cube away catching Prowl's attention in that motion. Air rushed out of the red frame in a sigh, and he slid back down to lay his head in Prowl's lap again, whimpering quietly as it jostled the raw and exposed circuits wound.

Prowl lowered his head, staring down at the black head in his lap and dreaded the Decepticon's next session. If he wanted to keep his soldiers in good repair, then he might have to gamble on the Decepticon's generosity. Unhappily, he disliked combining the concepts 'Decepticon' and 'generous' in the same sentence; it was like pairing Sunstreaker and crud: a disaster.

And if Sunstreaker continued to not cooperate it would disrupt their attempt to disguise their definite lack of a bond. Which could harm their chances of receiving needed medical supplies, and the three of them coming out of this alive.

He set his tactical and battle computer to figuring out that solution.

It was far better than considering how many mechs he had betrayed and killed with the information he had shared. And how many more he might have to sacrifice to keep them functioning.

Mechs paused upon noticing the unexpected guest standing in the corner. How could they miss the white plating in the blue room, even the black accents stood out amongst the cobalt highlights.

Most shocking of all, however, were the blue optics and the bright red chevron that glinted on his helm like an identifying flag. The red insignia that used to grace his chest lay in tattered remains on the desk of the Decepticon commander.

Vertigo moved as though he didn't notice his subordinates' hesitation. He signed the datapads put in front of him, moving with the grace of well-oiled and carefully maintained parts.

The door to Vertigo's office sat a level lower than the rest of the office, a defensive foyer that forced any mechs to walk up a steep ramp to reach the desk set in the furthest corner from the door. The desk itself provided a shield against attack, Vertigo had thrown Prowl against it several times and it didn't even bear a single dent. Prowl might not have been entirely up to date in the Decepticon inter-relationships, but he considered this a clear sign that the Base Commander had either made several enemies (and as he was a Decepticon, this was no difficult conclusion to reach), or he was terribly paranoid.

Prowl hunkered in his chosen corner. Sound shivered over his plating: a screech of metal on metal, the cry of a gear strained too tightly, the wail of a vocalizer on the verge of shorting from the volume.

It sent surges through Prowl's frame. Horror. Rage. Helplessness. Emotions unhampered by his battle computer, left him unable to truly process, had him hacking at the firewalls that blocked his battle computer wherein lay the shallow comfort of tactical layouts and simulations. It left him imagining what was being done to create those sounds.

He couldn't even identify the voices anymore; the vocalizers staticky and glitching from strain.

Another Decepticon entered, this one not even pausing for an acknowledging ping from his commander. He strode up the ramp, the deep blue of his paint standing out in the lighter cobalt of the floor. His red optics focused intently on Prowl, with far more hostility than any of the other Decepticons had shown.

He bore the mark of a medic and Prowl's gears whined as he tensed, unheard over the incessant screaming. The only medic that Vertigo would allow to tend to Prowl would have to be an officer. The very head of the medics.

Vertigo wordlessly gathered a stack of datapads into his subspace, and rose to his feet. The two officers greeted each other amicably (for Decepticons) as they passed. Vertigo left the room, and the door slid closed behind him. Leaving Prowl alone in the room with Halifax's Chief Medical Officer.

Among Decepticons that epithet may as well have said 'Interrogator.'

Prowl didn't say anything. He'd said enough, already.

Vertigo had relentlessly drilled him for the better part of a megacycle. Prowl had answered him, not completely and not always with full honesty. He'd implied that much of the information he could not readily access without his battle computer.

Then Prowl had refused to answer anymore questions. He needed those medical supplies.

That was when Vertigo got nasty and started throwing Prowl around. His cracked optic had blinked out completely, lens shattered by an impact against the wall or the desk. Prowl couldn't remember very clearly at that moment; he couldn't think. When violence had failed to get the answers Vertigo wanted, the Decepticon had ordered this terrible audio to be filtered through to his office. The sound of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker being tortured. Sound to put images to what Vertigo probably assumed Prowl could feel in his spark.

Unfettered without his battle computer, his emotions crashed through him with every agonized wail and scream of tortured metal. He'd started shaking, those sounds affecting him far more than anything Vertigo had done.

Now Counterpunch watched him with narrow optics. "This is the Autobot's oh-so-feared second-in-command? This shivering piece of slag?" The mech leaned closer. "How pathetically Autobot."

Prowl, bolstered by anger after a particularly horrid shriek coming through the speaker, glared at the Decepticon.

The Decepticon straightened, engine growling a warning.

But he didn't strike.

Prowl reset his sensor net, wondering if he'd somehow missed it? Had he gone offline and not even know it? Prowl watched the Decepticon warily, deciding that Counterpunch was merely biding his time for an appropriate moment.

Venting harshly, Counterpunch gestured at Vertigo's desk. "Are you going to move on your own or am I going to have to start nasty."

Prowl tightened his gears. "Why wait?"

Counterpunch grinned, red optics glowing malevolently. "Anticipation." He took a step closer, a leer spreading across his face.. "I wouldn't mind starting early if you refuse to cooperate, however."

A sonic torch appeared in the Decepticon's hand, flaring to life with a screech.

Prowl winced, and stood. He didn't take his optics off Counterpunch as he moved over to stand next to the desk.

Counterpunch grunted, and crossed over to the desk. "Sit."

Prowl sat down, trying to gain some kind of control on his emotions. Trying to ignore the sounds that continued to feed through the speakers.

The Decepticon curled his lip in a sneer. "You're so pathetic. I don't even know how Vertigo can stand touching you."

Prowl shuddered at the reminder. "Must you leave that sound on?"

Counterpunch laughed, and jabbed his hand into Prowl's bumper. "What a stupid question. Of course I must."

Something in that phrasing caught Prowl's attention. But it didn't mesh. It didn't compute. He couldn't access the meaning.

Counterpunch watched Prowl. "Shut down your battle computer?" Pain as probing fingers found the device lodged under Prowl's bumper. "Oh yes, I see. Well," he pulled at the Enforcer's chestplate, "I suppose we can't have you plotting an escape." He released Prowl, his red optics flaring with a strange intensity.

A medkit appeared in Counterpunch's hand. Prowl eyed it. A medkit could just as easily hold instruments of torture, as tools to repair.

Counterpunch sorted through it, and lifted out a drill. "I suppose I should get to work. Please scream, this is going to hurt after all."

The drill whirred toward Prowl's broken optic

"Are you going to talk?"

Prowl didn't answer, concentrating instead on forcing his arms and legs to move where he commanded them. They felt strange after being repaired. Prowl couldn't maintain his balance, neither physical nor mental. He just couldn't believe the Decepticons had effected these repairs. He was not wholly repaired, nor did he have access to his battle computer or his weapons and targeting systems, but his hydraulics had been fixed, and his damaged optic no longer gave him static. He didn't understand Vertigo's intent. But he knew that he still could not talk.

This had not been the deal.

Vertigo growled, before dragging Prowl upright, and securing his arms behind his back. Gears whined at the strain of having his arms wrenched so far over his canopy. The Decepticon shoved Prowl forward, with a growl to follow before striding out of the office at a rapid pace.

Prowl staggered after him, energon cuffs crackling against his wrists. His doorwings ached from being bent too far forward too long, and now his elbows dug into them, bending them too far back. He struggled to banish the memory of the screams that still haunted his audio receptors. He hated being so helpless. He hated not being able to do anything to stop it. .

He hadn't even gained anything by it. Needless suffering for no good reason! Slagging Decepticons who couldn't keep their words.

Vertigo jerked him to a halt just outside the entry to the brig.

Prowl stumbled, unable to flex his doorwings to catch his balance. The Decepticon's grip was the only thing that kept him from fallling. Vertigo seemed to enjoy catching the Autobot tactician off guard.

The energon manacles came loose, and Prowl's doorwings flared out for balance. Prowl flexed his hands and then his elbow joints, relieved to have the pressure removed.

Vertigo then pulled out the interrupter that blocked Prowl from his battle computer.

Prowl waited for the pincers to leave the seams of his plating, indulging in letting the revulsion show on his face since the Decepticon couldn't see it. Finally Vertigo shoved him forward again, letting the tactician lead the way into the cell block.

Prowl knew Vertigo's intent. He paused by their cell, staring straight ahead rather than acknowledge the mechs sitting on the floor.

Neither of the twins moved: their optics dark, their ventilators working overtime to cool damaged systems.

The bars powered down, and Prowl swept in, crouching down between the two of Toughlines.

Sideswipe stirred, though his optics hadn't switched on yet.

Prowl turned to him, resting his hand on the mech's shoulder. "Sideswipe?"

Sideswipe jerked away from Prowl, optics activating with a weak flash. A whimper burst out of his vocalizer, and he dragged his hand over the floor trying to get away.

Prowl caught Sideswipe before he could topple over, and injure himself further.

Sideswipe yelped, slapping weakly Prowl's hands. "Sunny!"

Sunstreaker twitched, optics lighting up.

Metal scraped and squealed as Vertigo drew closer; his mass a large echo on Prowl's sensors.

"Oh, Primus, no. Don't do this." Prowl murmured, tapping his knuckles against the mech's temples, making the optics flicker in response. Vertigo did not need to see Sideswipe like this. Maybe a moment's confusion could be explained away, but not if Sideswipe didn't recognize Prowl sooner. He brushed his lips against his lover's audio horn, imploring into the receiver. "I need you to see me. Me! It's Prowl. Look at me!"

Sideswipe turned blank optics on Prowl, fear and confusion etched on his face.

Sunstreaker stood then, arm still hanging uselessly at his side. Prowl glanced up from Sideswipe to look at the other Toughline, staring hard at the golden mech with a silent command for him to remain still.

Sunstreaker glared back defiantly but remained in his corner.

The bars powered down, and Vertigo stepped into the small cell. His presence filling up the space, far more than his mass could account for.

Prowl allowed his doorwings to droop, pulling away from the frightened Toughline; his lover was terrified of him. He approached Sunstreaker, drawing closer than he normally dared into the mech's space. He stared into the Toughline's optics, not missing the bright threat lingering in them: a tinturkey trapped in the den of hungry turbofoxes.

"Are you okay?"

The mech's pale optics shifted from Prowl to the Decepticon still watching them from the open cell door. He grunted, reaching up to brush hesitant fingers over Prowl's hip. His face tensed and he looked toward Prowl, shoving the tactician away to struggle to his feet. "You're fragging repaired."

Vertigo watched Sunstreaker shake the drops off his fingers, his optics narrowed with speculation. "Don't you know what's been happening to him?"

Prowl glanced at the Decepticon, alarm flashing through his processor.

Vertigo tensed, his optics bright.

Sunstreaker bared his dental plates but didn't reply.

Prowl turned away from Sunstreaker to face the Decepticon. His doorwings shielded the taller mech, inviting Vertigo's attention to remain on him.

"The other one didn't recognize you?"

Sunstreaker growled, his hands moving up Prowl's back to grip the top of the black and white panels.

Prowl reached back to place a restraining hand on the warrior. A futile gesture certainly, but he did it as much for the Decepticon's sake as to actually check the mech.

"He is delirious."

A pincer-hand snapped out to seize the underside of Prowl's bumper. "What the slag is this?"

Sunstreaker's hands tensed on Prowl's doorwings, ready to yank the officer back.

Prowl didn't allow himself to react, he only pressed his hand against Sunstreaker's hip. He appreciated the warrior's willingness to protect his superior, despite his own misgivings. The last thing he wanted was for Sunstreaker to protect him, in this situation that was Prowl's responsibility. He wanted Sunstreaker to keep Vertigo from touching Sideswipe. He had to ensure both of his soldiers came out of this alive.

Addressing the Decepticon, he continued to press his back against the yellow plating behind him, holding the mech there. "I'm not sure I understand, could you clarify what you mean?"

"Why the frag didn't he recognize his slagging bondmate?" The red glare switched to Sunstreaker. "Would he recognize you?"

Sunstreaker's hand spasmed on Prowl's doorwings, an indication that the warrior knew the answer to that question.

"He might not, considering what you've done to him," Prowl replied, pressing the golden warrior toward his brother.

"Try it." The pincer hands snapped at Sunstreaker, threatening to seize the mech if he didn't comply. He grabbed hold of Prowl instead, yanking him away from Sunstreaker. "You stay over here," and he shoved the tactician into the unoccupied corner

Another growl stuttered out of the warrior's engine, the normally shining hand reaching for Prowl briefly. He turned on his heel then, and knelt next to his brother. He cautiously rested a hand on the beaten red shoulder, murmuring words too low for anyone but them to hear.

Sideswipe turned toward his brother's voice, optics flickering. He grasped at Sunstreaker's arms, letting the golden warrior draw him close. Still Sunstreaker murmured his reassurances. Sideswipe's head rested on the golden shoulder, and a sigh rushed out of his vents.

The pincer jerked Prowl forward only to drive him back, shoving him against the wall. "You're not bonded to them?"

Prowl activated his battle computer running a multitude of calculations through the system, though he remained outwardly calm. "Did you really think Prime would allow one of his officers to bond to a simple soldier?"

Inarticulate fury ripped out of the mech's vocalizer. The Decepticon clubbed Prowl to the dirty floor, sending him sprawling toward the twins.

Prowl vented sharply, shooting a stalling glare at the golden warrior before he had a chance to do something stupid. He pushed himself up, keeping his gaze neutral as he turned his optics on the Decepticon suddenly standing over them.

"You've been playing me for a fool!"

Prowl tilted his head. "I'm certain that I never said any such thing."

A blow glanced across Prowl's chevron, ringing through his systems. He reeled, staring at the floor without really seeing it. The cell spun about him, refusing to settle for longer than a moment before turning and twisting again. His energon levels read low, he realized, and if the Decepticon followed through with the beatings he looked to be promising right then, it wouldn't take long until the trauma would take Prowl offline He couldn't let that happen. He still needed to see to his soldiers.

"Keep it up," Prowl grunted, "and, repaired or not, I'll deactivate. How would you explain that to Megatron?"

Vertigo snarled and stomped down on his leg. "What can I do when you're resisting the guards!" Metal bent and tore under the blows punctuating each word.

Face slack with shock, Prowl tried to curl over his abused appendage before Vertigo severed any wiring or the leg itself.

Sunstreaker suddenly lashed out, kicking the Decepticon's leg out from under him.

Vertigo crashed to the floor with a resounding clap of metal and bellow absolute fury.

Sunstreaker lurched to his feet, staggering a step toward the hapless Decepticon.

Vertigo roared again, and he grabbed Sunstreaker's leg and threw him against the wall next to Sideswipe. "There's nothing saving them now, Autoslag! You can function without them, like it or not!"

Prowl forced himself to his hands and knees, but the Decepticon had already regained his feet first.

Vertigo grabbed him up and slammed him into the wall, leaning in close, his pincers grasping the cables of Prowl's neck. "Stupid slagger! That stupid slagging hunter!"His optics blazed with rage. "What did he see to make such a slagging stupid assumption then?" He slammed Prowl back again, lending weight to his anger. "What was it?"

Prowl strained, fingers of one hand wrapped around the red wrist. His chin pressed against the pincer finger, cables threatening to pull out of their moorings from the weight of his body. His other hand and his feet pushed against the wall, trying to relieve the pressure from his neck.

"You think I'm giving you scrap? You'll be begging to join them by the time we're done with you, you can count on that!" Just as abruptly as he'd seized him, the Decepticon dropped Prowl and stormed out of the cell.

Sunstreaker staggered to his feet again, stumbling over to Prowl and Sideswipe.

Nothing. He'd done it all for nothing.