Prompt Post 14/26 - I found the Wifi, score!
Nine Rings of Vos - Arc Seven: Revelations
A Transformers G1 Fanfiction
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: There are too many matterfragging Decepticons on this matterfragging shuttle!
Timeline: Moar P&J happens in the past!
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(In which the Autobot shuttle has been boarded!)
“Prowl!” It happened fast, too fast to stop, a short series of stop-motion moments forever seared into his memory core with laserfire. Megatron and his forces blasted their way into the shuttle. Prowl turned, drawing his rifle to defend his comrades as he left the pilot seat. The raised barrels of the enemy weapons, lined up with his lasercore - clearly Megatron had declared priority targets for this attack. A flash, fire and death aimed and loosed on the Autobot Second in Command. A black and white form, spun into a violent tumble to the decking, trailing smoke and sparks from his torso.
“Jazz!” Prowl wrenched his frame to the side, dragging Jazz’s limp form with him as he sought shelter from Decepticon fire behind a control panel. They were going to expire here, Prowl recognized. What little cover there was would soon be destroyed by the Decepticon’s barrage.
Jazz was fading - had given his life away for Prowl. Jazz was wounded fatally for love of a mech who could not even bond to him as he deserved. Jazz had pushed Prowl out of the way of that fatal shot, a shot that would have taken out Prowl’s lasercore. The Tactician would have died had that shot made contact. The thought was on a constant loop through Prowl’s processors.
Prowl was rather predictably upset by this situation.
Snarling in rage and sparkbreak, Prowl raised his rifle and switched to rapid-fire as Jazz’s mechfluid pooled around them, reflecting laserfire in glittering motes of light.
They may be going to meet their ends here, but the Autobot’s would not go down easy.
Ratchet skidded to a sliding stop on his knees at Prowl’s side, diving at the wound steadily draining Jazz’s life away. Prowl was aware that the medic was acting in vain - had risked his life to get to Jazz for an unsalvageable situation - but even so, Prowl could not help but hope...
Hope for a miracle that would not - could not - come.
A deep thump, as if a giant fist had rammed against the walls of reality, a sound more felt than heard - the action paused, the mechs involved startled by a signal they could not interpret - and a silent explosion of light filled the overcrowded shuttle.
“Have at thee, villainous heathen!” The surprise on Megatron’s face was inappropriately comical as a large Seeker of a positively ancient make used his supplementary support cane as a club to propel the Decepticon Warlord out through the hole in the shuttle’s hull. It took the gaping Decepticon’s a few klicks to catch up. By that point, three smaller Seeker’s of more familiar makes and two Praxian mechs had taken advantage of the lag caused by confusion and surprise to shoot down fully half of the invading forces. Suddenly the Decepticon’s were the outnumbered party. When Ironhide snarled and started helping the Seekers, the Decepticon’s decided to exercise the better part of valour and followed their leader back out the way they had come.
“Jetfire.” Ironhide shifted in front of Ratchet as the Seekers turned round to face the Autobots.
“Ironhide.” The former Autobot Air Commander hesitated before stepping slowly forward; rightly recognizing that letting his trinemates deal with the Autobots would not go over well - especially considering the circumstances. The red and white Seeker only took a few steps before stopping. “I’m sorry we parted on... less than pleasant terms the last time we spoke.”
“Yah. Jetfire...” Ironhide’s face twisted uncomfortably at the reminder as he looked off to one side. “Thanks fer helpin’.”
“It was nothing.” Jetfire shrugged, and rocked back on his thrusters, field spiking uneasily. “Uh, there’s something else though. Cade?”
“Warn your city, if you can.” The black Praxian shifted forward and jerked his helm towards the damaged controls. The autopilot had kicked in when the Decepticon’s attacked, locking the shuttles course for Earth. “The Decepticons are attacking your stronghold in force. They had planned to use your shuttle as camouflage, and may still use its arrival to penetrate Earth’s defence grid.”
“The long distance comm. is fried.” Brawn snarled back after a moment, slamming a fist into the perforated console. “We can’t do anything until we get close enough for personal comms to work. The relay is gone.”
“Slaggit.” The black Seeker hesitated, all six of his wings shifting in a display of unease for a klick before he subspaced his launcher and stomped over to the sparking communication unit. “Let us see if we can make it functional again.”
The truce was unspoken on both sides, and the atmosphere inside the shuttle was uncomfortable and tense, but weapons were lowered - if not put away all together - as the badly damaged shuttle careened towards Earth on a collision course. Quietly the group of Seekers helped where they could, the injured Autobot’s watching their every move with deeply ingrained suspicion. Only Ratchet seemed to not care about the fact that they had Seekers on their shuttle, optics burning bright with focus as he fought to keep Jazz’s spark from guttering.
“Fraggit - no!” Ratchet snarled, an angry roar of his engine, shattering the wary silence. “I don’t have the right tools! We’re losing him! Fight Jazz - don’t you dare pull this scrap with me you ungrateful glitch. Fight!”
“Jazz.” Prowl’s cry was mournful - broken - pulling both Praxian mechs to his side instantly. “Jazz!”
Jazz’s spark flickered dimly in its casing, weakened by the sudden depletion of energon. Even as Ratchet patched the leaks and hooked Jazz’s energon lines into Prowl’s the saboteur’s spark dimmed, stuttered... and went out.
“Jazz!” Prowl screamed in denial, in rage and anguish and horror that threatened to lock up his processor permanently, so strong were the emotions that surged within his spark.
Ratchet ignored the tactician entirely, tearing the shuttle’s emergency medical kit out of the wall with a violence borne of fear and haste. The Autobot medic was so utterly focused that nothing of his surroundings registered but his patient.
“Blackout, forget the comm.!” The black Praxian barked out. “Help the medic!”
“On it.” The black Seeker hit his knees beside Ratchet, taking up the role of assistant medic with seamless ease. Ratchet snarled orders and directions without as much as a flinch. The Autobot’s were numb, shocked as they watched Ratchet fight to revive Jazz’s spark, unable to even think of protesting the Seeker’s presence next to their medic and his vulnerable patient.
Jetfire took over fighting with the helm, leaving Ironhide free to stand vigil. The gold Seeker and the ancient mech stood off to the side next to the hole blasted in the hull by the Decepticons, watching for pursuit with renewed care. The black Praxian knelt by Prowl, pulling the distraught tactician out of Ratchet’s way. The gold accented Praxian knelt on Prowl’s other side, red visor blazing, and grabbed Prowl by both shoulders and shook.
“Prowl!” Red glyphs caught the emergency lights in lurid flashes as the older Praxian wrenched the tactician around hard enough that Prowl’s head snapped back. “Prowl! Look at me - focus!”
“Jazz.” Prowl moaned as if in physical torment, blue optics dull as he was forced to look away from the still shell of his binary partner.
“Prowl, listen to me! You can help him - you can save Jazz!” Prowl went rigid in the other Praxian’s hold as the visored mech snapped out his words. “Tell me, would you give your life for his? Trade your spark for his?”
“Of course!” Prowl snarled, surging up against the grip of two pairs of hands, his digits hooking into so-often-hidden claws as he locked gazes with the tattooed Praxian in front of him. “I would do anything for Jazz!”
“Then delete the suppression program! All of it!” The red visor flared nearly white as the older mech’s voice rang out in the smoke hazed shuttle, isolating their tangled knot of metal from the rest of reality in a strange bubble of stillness, a circuit formed between them through the intensity of their locked gazes. “Open your spark to him, lend him your strength, and pull him back from the edge of the Well! Hold him here to life with all of your strength - your devotion must outweigh the draw of the Allspark, hold nothing back and do not let him go!”
“We will not lose you too!” The dark voice of the black Praxian growled from Prowl’s back. “Drag him back by the horns if you have to, but do it fast!”
“ Clear!” Ratchet snarled as Jazz’s shell jolted.
The strangeness of how the two mechs knew so much about his personal matters was ignored as Prowl’s gaze was wrenched back around to Jazz. Jazz, who lay dying, only the faintest glimmers of light clinging to his sparkchamber. Without any further consideration Prowl began deleting the programs that inhibited his emotions, that bound his spark from bonding.
“Clear!” Ratchet’s expression was once of wretched desperation.
“Jazz...” Prowl whispered, fighting free of restraining hands to fold over cradling Jazz’s helm in his hands as he pressed their forehelms together. “Jazz.”
“Clear!” Ratchet’s voice chocked out, hopeless as Jazz’s sparkchamber remained in shadow.
“Jazz.” Prowl drew back enough to look down through a dark visor into blank, unseeing optics. Deletion complete. Prowl tore down his firewalls, threw open his spark, and gave everything he was to the fading wisps of light that belonged to the spark that contained everything Prowl found worth living for.
(Word Count: 1576)
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Alright! I've given into the demanding demands for Prowl and Jazz to get their bonding on. I hope you whiners are happy now. *evil smirk of evil* This was at the prompt o bookscrazygirl who wanted "Prowl and Jazz in Nine Rings of Vos, please? Pretty please?" This was the next piece in the queue, enjoy my lovelies. XD
I have arrived safely in New Mexico and finally managed to get the airport to cough up my luggage yesterday (it was only the day after I arrived, no biggie. Fragtards.) Also: WiFi! Yay!
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS! (Aaaah! Only two days left! Mature dammit! Mature!)
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