TF: Pristine
Rating: PG-13
Series: G1
Summary: Once Motormaster notices Prowl, there is nothing the tactician can do to get away until Motormaster has his way.
Warnings: Violence (mostly implied)
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: For the tf_rare_pairing weekly challenge- Prowl/Motormaster - "disheveled"
Yeah, I got nothing as to why the last few fics have been quite brutal and violent and angsty either…
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
The first time he saw Prowl on the battlefield, the tactician was standing proud, wings flared back and rifle at the ready. It was an impressive sight, and one which seared itself in Motormaster’s memory banks. The mech was so perfect that Motormaster growled whenever he thought about him. The battle didn’t seem to touch him. But it was in a completely different way to that of Motormaster and the other Stunticons. They had forcefields; battles rarely reflected on their plating. But Prowl… he stayed far enough back that the battle didn’t damage him, yet he could still fight. From that point on, Motormaster was determined to bring Prowl down.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I tell ya, the mech’s after ya.” Jazz lounged against Prowl’s desk; eyeing the damage from the latest battle that Prowl still hadn’t gotten repaired.
“I’m fine Jazz.”
“Ya may be at the moment, but that mech’s got it in fer ya. If Sideswipe and Sunstreaker hadn’t been closer, Primus only knows what he’da done to ya.”
“Motormaster was following Megatron’s orders to attack.”
“Only attacking you though mech. That’s gotta mean something.”
“What, that Motormaster… how do you say it, has a crush on me?”
“Heh, maybe not quite that. But he’s certainly got it in fer ya.”
“I shall bear your warning in mind Jazz.”
“S’all I’m asking Prowl.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next battle, Motormaster saw him standing on the cliff edge, away from all the other Autobots, overseeing the battle. As though the dirt and grime of the war couldn’t touch him. That irked Motormaster even more and he broke away from the main attack, circling around to climb the cliff.
“So ya think yer better than us eh?”
“What?” Startled, Prowl didn’t even have time to comm anyone for help as Motormaster grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the battle, towards the forest.
“Fragging Autobot thinking yer so much better than the rest of us.” Prowl dug his heels in, but he wasn’t a match for Motormaster’s brute strength.
“I don’t know what you mean.” He ground out, twisting to try and shake Motormaster’s grip on his arm.
“Standing there looking so perfect with yer plating all clean and nice. It ain’t right.” Motormaster growled, throwing Prowl into the forest. Prowl quickly regained his footing and dropped into a defensive stance. Motormaster just laughed.
“Ya can’t hurt me.” He stepped threateningly towards Prowl, but Prowl stood his ground. “I’m gonna make sure yer plating ain’t so nice an’ clean…”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Prowl? Prowler!” He came online to the sounds of Jazz’s frantic voice calling his name and hundreds of warnings vying for his attention
“Here…” He managed to croak, not knowing exactly where here was. Events since leaving the battle were decidedly fuzzy. He remembered Motormaster saying that his plating was too clean… and then nothing.
Risking a look down at himself, he groaned. His plating certainly wasn’t pristine. Not what was left of it at any rate. He grimaced as he spotted one of his doorwings lying on the ground a few feet away from him. That was going to hurt when it was replaced. He could only presume that his pain sensors had been overwhelmed, which was why he couldn’t feel… anything.
“Frag mech, ya trying ta upset Ratchet?”
“It wasn’t exactly my intention.”
“He’s gonna have a pump failure when he sees ya.”
“Who’s going to… Primus, just what happened to you Prowl?” Ratchet broke off as he approached the tactician, taking in the amount of damage.
“Motormaster.” With his answer, Prowl’s optics flickered as the warnings overwhelmed his processor and he slipped into stasis.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Prowl next onlined, it was in the medbay to the sounds of Ratchet berating Sideswipe for something irresponsible.
“Ain’t got ta worry about that.” Jazz murmured. Prowl turned his head slightly to see the saboteur sitting on the edge of his berth.
“That’s good to know.” Prowl replied gratefully.
“Ratchet’s got ‘em in hand.” Jazz shrugged before gently poking Prowl’s thigh. “Though you weren’t ever gonna online mech.”
“I apologise for taking so long.”
“Don’t you dare apologise!” Ratchet growled. Having finished with Sideswipe, he’d made his way over to Prowl’s berth to check on the tactician. “Your systems needed the rest. If only you’d actually listen to me once in a while and recharge and refuel more often, then you wouldn’t have spent so long in stasis.”
“How long?” Prowl asked softly, almost dreading the answer.
“Four days. Two of which were spent with me replacing most of your plating and half your systems. Motormaster certainly did a good job of trying to rip you apart.”
“Thank you Ratchet.”
“Hmm. You’re free to go whenever you feel like it, but I’m only placing you on light duties for the next week.”
“Thank you Ratchet.” Prowl had always decided it was the better part of valor to agree with Ratchet and not to annoy him. Especially after the medic had spent that long repairing him.
“C’mon Prowl, I’ll walk ya to yer quarters.” Jazz offered, slipping off the berth and grinning at Prowl. Shaking his head, Prowl stood up, stretching joints that had been replaced and were still stiff.
“I am sure I am capable of making my own way to my own quarters, thank you Jazz.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He awoke with his plating drenched in condensation, systems running far too hot for simple recharge. Onlining his optics, he reassured himself he was in his quarters on the Ark, not out in the forest with Motormaster. During his recharge, his processor had cleaned up his memory banks and the full events of what had occurred with Motormaster had made itself known.
Motormaster stood over Prowl, carelessly tossing away the doorwing he’d just ripped from the tactician. Prowl lay on the ground, broken and leaking energon in more places that he could count. His plating had been torn away, wires left hanging and sparking uselessly.
“Not so pristine now eh Autobot?” He grinned, kicking Prowl in the side.
“Prefer ya looking all disheveled.” The tone of Motormaster’s voice had brought Prowl out of his recharge, quivering as he remembered. He wasn’t an easy mech to scare, but the promise of more of the same in Motormaster’s voice chilled him to his very spark.