Chapter Text
Explosions rattled the battlefield as debris and shrapnel flew in all directions. Cybertronians were shouting, screaming, running in confusion while missiles tore into the already broken landscape, wrecking and scarring it without mercy.
Overhead the shrill engines of deadly seekers whistled through the air as they flew in formation, zeroing in on targets and releasing an armada of bullets, missiles and bombs, destroying everything in their path in a bright orange fireball.
Commander Prowl of Alpha Team Zero dove inside an abandoned, smoking building to avoid a new barrage of firepower from the seekers. He glanced around the empty building, his spark pulsing wildly as his sensor net struggled to recalibrate.
He inhaled air deeply to cool his racing systems, coughing when the smoke clogged some of his vents. He grimaced. Ratchet was going to have a field orn with him.
He checked his position and cursed. He was still no closer to his team. Somehow in the confusion of the battle, he had separated from them, or they from him. Pinned down by the seekers, he had had no choice but to track further south, in hopes of avoiding them, yet somehow the seekers always seemed to know where he was. What bothered him more, though, was his battle computer spitting out the possibility that they were deliberately hoarding him.
Taking a deep vent to calm his racing spark, he checked his ammo and cursed. He was running out. He had to find his team. As scattered as their forces were and as desperately as the Neutrals needed them, it was too dangerous for them to find him. He couldn’t even comm for assistance, as secure communications were down and Blaster still hadn’t figured out how to unscramble the systems. Briefly he wondered how far Jazz’s team would be from his current position. Jazz and two others were supposed to be in the southern quadrant. If he could reach them, he would be safe, but he had no idea where they were, and sneaking up on a special operations team was never a good idea. He steeled himself. He had to either find a way to reach his team or notify Jazz's team.
A seeker’s engine whistled overhead and Prowl automatically ducked lower, flattening his delicate wings against his frame. The heat within the smoldering building was suffocating, and he wiped the condensation off his forehelm. He spared a glance at the carnage outside, grimacing as his optics fell on lifeless frames scattered over the once peaceful haven. The old bitter taste of copper filled his mouth as he seethed at the Decepticons. They held no esteem for life.
Clang
Prowl spun around, aiming his acid-pellet gun at the source of the sound. He scanned the wrecked building, watching as metal sparks fell to the ground. There was a distinct possibility that It was the weight of the building shifting. Prowl kept his optics focused and flexed his doorwings, expanding his sensory field to catch even the slightest movement or faintest spark signature. He remained frozen for a few clicks before relaxing slightly, then turned his attention once more to the battle raging outside. Probability of structural damage - 78%.
Prowl checked the communication lines again. He cursed as it still spit static. He tuned into the open channels where a cacophony of sound assaulted him. He grit his denta in irritation. The Autobots were barely holding their own, but this was not a normal battle situation; this was a rescue mission. Their main priority was to save the Neutrals still alive and only then to battle the Decepticons and defeat them or at least force them into a retreat, however temporary.
At this stage in the battle, the Autobots were doing neither.
He activated his battle computer and furiously computed the chances of gaining the upper hand. He sighed in frustration at the results. The percentages for obtaining the upper hand were nearly non-existing, barely reaching into the double digits. That left only one viable option that would save most of their lives and that of the Neutrals': they had to retreat. He balled his hand into a fist and hit the floor, dragging acrid air slowly into his vents to compose himself. He should have been at the command deck, not on the field. He was more use to the cause directing from afar.
A ripple of movement ghosted over his doorwings and he spun around, scanning the area again. His battle computer insisted it was structural integrity, but, as Jazz would put it, his tank told him he wasn't alone. He grit his denta and glared at the darkness, flaring his doorwings. He needed to get out of this location.
::Communications are back up!:: Blaster’s booming voice sounded over the secure comm line and Prowl ex-vented in relief. It was time to call it in. They were outnumbered and their forces were too scattered. Prowl connected to the command frequency.
::Optimus Prime, sir, we have to call a retreat. The Decepticons outnumber us and the only way to ensure the lives of the Neutrals at present is by retreating. I recommend a retreat through Delta sector on the eastern boundary as the most viable option at present.:: He trusted Optimus to see the wisdom in his advice, and the mech would hopefully implement it without wasting time.
Prowl quickly scanned his surroundings and tried to determine the best route to proceed to a more accessible and preferably stable location. In the background he faintly made out the sound of seeker engines returning. His engine growled. They never give up.
He ducked, covering his helm with his arm as another missile suddenly slammed into his hiding place, rattling the already flimsy structure to its foundations. Prowl glanced at the support beams as his wings flared up then settled. The building wasn't going to last much longer, and the seekers seemed to have locked in onto his location. He needed to get out of here, but more than that he needed backup to get these seekers off his tailpipe.
:: Acknowledged Prowl, what is your current location?:: his comm. crackled to life with the baritone voice of their leader. Impeccable timing, sir. Prowl thought wryly.
::My current location is 4 clicks south-east of rendezvous point A, co-ordinates 4.3"3.3'. I'm currently pinned to my position and taking fire from seekers::
::Ah'm close to ya position, Prowler, I'll meet you there:: Jazz's concerned voice cut in over the comm. lines. ::Switch to frequency Beta::
Another two missiles hit precariously close to Prowl's position. He briefly caught a glimpse of three seekers and noted with relief that it wasn't the lead trine.
Behind him, another ripple of energy flowed over his field. He shrugged it off. He had to time this right. If Jazz could supply cover fire then he would be able to get out of this boxed in position.
Prowl watched the seekers circle to come in for another round and connected to the frequency Jazz had requested.
Behind him, the shadows morphed into a form.
::Prowler? You there? I’m sending my team on, ETA one breem!:: Jazz motioned his two agents to move and turned towards the north. Prowl was somewhere over there, pinned down by seekers. keep it cool, mech. Don't go bustin' yer helm because you acted recklessly. His spark spun a little faster as he saw another barrage of explosions light of the north. He shifted his engine into high gear.
:: Negative Jazz, I'm under severe fire. It’s too risky. You would only en –…:: the comm screeched and white static filled the frequency.
:: Prowl?:: Jazz pushed his engine as fear lanced through him. Please, Primus, let it be the frequency! ::Blaster, you read me?::
::Loud and clear.::
Frag. :: Prowl do ya read me?:: His tanks churned as static continued. ::Prowl? Report slag it!:: the saboteur shouted into his comm., but the line remained stubbornly silent.
::Blaster, run a repair on Prowl's comm. Try to reach him.:: He didn't wait for Blaster's answer as he transformed, the road to pock-marked and scattered with burning degree to continue in hover mode. He withdrew his blaster, keeping an optic on the sky and an optic on the ground as he headed to Prowl's position. Where are those fragging seekers? His scanners were extended to their maximum, but he couldn't find them. His tank turned to lead as reasons why they were gone flirted with his processor.
::Prime, can you get a hold of Prowl through yer comms?::
:: Negative. Jazz, head to Prowl's position, and Ratchet, stand by for medical assistance. The rest of you, follow your orders to withdraw::
:: Copy that Prime.:: Optimus's steady voice soothed some of tension bubbling and festering in Jazz as he darted between the debris, shrapnel and flames as he headed towards Prowl's position, all the time trying to comm. him. Damn it Prowler just answer yer fraggin comm. line!
Jazz ducked behind a crumbled wall as he scanned the area for spark resonances. The fight was moving towards the east, drawn after the retreating form of the Autobots. Jazz's scanner beeped as it picked up a familiar spark resonance and the heavy feeling in his spark lifted, until he noted the read-out strength. Slag. That ain't good.
He bolted towards a blazing building, ducking into the smoke as it enveloped him in smoldering darkness.
"Prowl! Where are ya?" he shouted into the inferno. He coughed as smoke was dragged into his ventilators, clogging his filters and irritating his sensitive system. He quickly closed his ventilators, hoping that he didn't overheat in the time it took him to find Prowl.
He glanced around the blazing structure, according to Prowl's spark signature, he ought to be in this spot. He took a few cautious steps forward and ran his scanners again. Jazz cursed as the heat messed with his infrared scanners. He had to find Prowl, and fast. He stepped forward and abruptly stumbled over something, cursing he turned around to shove the offensive piece of debris. He froze, icy tentacles rapping themselves around his spark as he gazed at what had caused him to fall. It was a frame he would recognise anywhere.
"Prowl!" He gasped as he grabbed Prowl’s shoulder. The building chose that moment to give its death throes. It creaked and groaned as it started shaking around Jazz. Slag couldn't ya wait 5 clicks? Jazz hoisted Prowl's limp frame over his shoulder and darted out of the building into the broken street, just as the building shrieked and collapsed in a heap of sparks, twisted metal and bellowing black smoke.
Jazz opened his ventilators to suck in clean air into his overheating engine. Kneeling on the ground, he gently laid the unconscious tactician down. Jazz scanned the perimeter to ensure no seeker or ground-bound Decepticon was in the vicinity before turning his attention to his unconscious friend. He nearly closed his vents again as he saw his friend's mutilated frame.
Deep claw marks decorated his chest, abdomen and back. He was missing a doorwing, while the other one was so mutilated it was hard to determine its true form even as energon slowly dripped from the fresh wounds. His scarred arms also showed signs of close-quarters combat. At least ya put up a fight. Jazz thought as he scanned the surroundings once again. These scars indicated either a predacon, or a cybercat. He had time for neither.
:: Ratchet, Prowl's wounded, bad. Ah'm gonna need help evacuating him.::
::Copy that. Arielbots are inbound and will be here in ten breems. Once we have the fraggin seekers off our tailpipes, I'll be able to come in on the medical shuttle. Keep him stable till then. Ratchet out.::
:: Copy, Jazz out.:: Jazz gave an exasperated sigh. Fragging Cons. Why the Pit did ya separate from yer team, Prowler? He started field repairs, painfully aware that it was sadly inadequate for Prowl's level of injuries. He quickly clamped the energon lines in Prowl's neck and chest to ensure the tactician didn't bleed out, though Jazz's scans indicated that the tactician was already dangerously low on energon.
"Prowl, can ya hear me?" Jazz gently shook the black and white. A soft groan escaped Prowl, but his optics remained off-line. "Hang in there Prowler, Ratch's coming." Jazz said as he gently laid a hand on Prowl's head, looking at the slack faceplate before him.
Dancing flames from the buildings around them cast an eerie glow over the tactician, accentuating the slash marks over his frame and highlighted the leaking energon. Somewhere behind Jazz another building groaned and collapsed, mixing small metallic particles with dark smoke clouds as it rapidly expanded towards Jazz and Prowl. Jazz threw himself over Prowl to protect him from the debris. He had to get to a more accessible area if the shuttle was going to land close to them.
Jazz gently lifted Prowl into his arms, mindful of his injured doorwing. Prowl moaned weakly as Jazz's movements jostled him. "Sorry Prowler, but Ah gotta move you. Just hang in there." In the background he could still make out the sound of gunfire and muffled cries as the battle raged, but it was fading in intensity. A more welcoming sound of an approaching shuttle greeted Jazz's audios as the large shuttle maneuvered its way towards their position.
:: Jazz, can you get to a clearer area, the shuttle can't land with all the smoke and debris.::
:: Already on my way Ratch, co-ordinates 4.6"4.0'.::
Jazz reached the area just as the shuttle's hatch opened, allowing Ratchet to bolt from the cargo area towards the saboteur. Ratchet didn't wait as he plunged his cable into Prowl's neck port, cataloguing the damages as they appeared. Ratchet let loose a string of Cybertonian curses that would have put the most hardened Decepticon to shame.
"Quick, get him into the hold. I need to start an energon transfusion ASAP. The injuries aren’t life-threatening, but the energon loss is!"
The hold’s hatch had barely closed behind them when the shuttle took off, heading straight to Iacon base. Ratchet was hastily connecting energon transfusion lines to Prowls arms while Jazz strapped him to the gurney. They worked in silence, the only noise the hum of the shuttles engines as the pilot pushed the engines to the maximum to reach Iacon.
The hull was eerily silent as Jazz looked around at the other patients. Most were unconscious and hooked up to machines. Jazz briefly glanced at Ratchet. He would have preferred Ratchet cursing. The mech was currently leaning over Prowl, examining the wounds to his chest, abdomen and back.
"So…he's gonna be alright ain't he?" Jazz ventured quietly, his own wounds started registering on his systems, but he paid them no heed. He couldn't take his optics off of Prowl. Jazz clutched at the gurney to steady himself. He should have been there with his partner. He promised Prowl he would always be there to watch his back. Logically he knew he was where he had been ordered to be, but he couldn’t shake the idea that he should have been there.
A hand on his shoulder made him look up into concerned optics. "The wounds are deep, energon loss severe, but he’ll be ok. Whatever did this was not aiming to kill." He narrowed his fiery optics at the silver mech. "Are you feeling ok? You look like slag." Ratchet stated as Jazz felt the tell-tale tingle of a deep scanner spreading over his frame.
Jazz shuttered his optics and dragged in a ragged breath, releasing it out slowly as he nodded his head. "Yeah I'm ok Ratch. You just take care of Prowler."
With a curt nod and a knowing look, Ratchet turned back to Prowl, and to Jazz's ultimate relief, began cursing as he cleaned the wounds.
Jazz swallowed hard and slid to the floor, grimacing as his wounds protested the movements. A field medic came to him and handed him an energon cube, which he gratefully accepted, before the field medic started patching up his wounds. He leaned his helm back and warily watched Ratchet work on Prowl.
As the shuttle lifted towards Iacon, four sets of red optics glinted in the aftermath of the battle, staring after the shuttle.
"I still think we should just have killed the slagging Autodolt. Would have been better." Frenzy grumbled next to Soundwave.
"Objective: completed. Second phase: initiated. Ravage, Laserbeak, Frenzy: Return to base."