Split because my chapters are too long. =_=
Title Star-crossed Chapter 28/??
Pairings/Characters Prowl/Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Counterpunch
Warnings None that I can think of in this chapter
Summary We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair.
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.
Pairings/Characters Prowl/Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Counterpunch
Warnings None that I can think of in this chapter
Summary We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair.
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.