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#SUBSPACE STRIKER
anon-e-miss · 4 months ago
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Primus Help the Outcasts 2
“Sit down, relax,” Jazz said, gesturing to a park bench.
Prowl did not want to sit. He wanted to pace and the curse the world, but he sat. He had not had a proper  recharge in mega-cycles. Not since that first dark-cycle when someone had opened the door to their room and peered inside. He had insisted his mechlings recharge with him since then even though the berth was really too small to chair and the berths were welded to the floor so he could not push them together. The energon was hardly strong enough to burn through the painful static in his battle computer but it was quick burst of energy and he had none.
“Why don’t ya just tell me?” Jazz asked. Prowl stiffened. “I’d rather hear yer take that read that tabloid scrap.”
“I...” Prowl paused as he tried to put his thoughts into some semblance of order.
He drank the pressed energon, less to buy himself a little more time to think and more to ensure Jazz could not take it from him. There would be no dinner for him. If they even had a room to go back to it would be lucky. Prowl could not blame Jazz for this. The priest was not about to suffer a broken servo with any kind of grace. They would camp out under the bridge, as they had the first dark-cycle after Lockdown had thrown them out. What they did after, Prowl did not know. He was quickly running out of options and hope. He only had a few emergency rations left for the mechlings. When those ran out, Prowl was going to have to make a choice, go crawling back to Lockdown and into his berth, or surrender his creations to SPS.
“Prowl?”
“When they found us, they found my Conjunx, my creations progenitor crushed by the vault.”
“That’s heavy,” Jazz replied. “Ain’t yer fault...”
“Oh it is,” Prowl said. “He had scratched his digits to the struts against the door while he begged me to let him in.”
“Ya knew he was there.”
“I did,” Prowl stared ahead. “I saw him on the cameras.”
“But ya didn’t let’m in,” Jazz said, slowly. Prowl was sure he was regretting buying Prowl energon. Too fragging bad for him. “Was the door stuck?”
“No. I watched him lead Seekers to the vault. I watched him enter the access code and I watched him realize it had been changed. The Seekers were not pleased with him when they were denied access to the Core.”
“Ya changed the code.”
“Yes. The Senate gave them the Core. They took down our shield as a sign of cooperation.”
“Ya tried to put it back up.”
“They disabled the power generators. I had full access to the Praxian surveillance network but I could not revive our self-defence network.”
“When did ya know they were gonna bomb Praxus?”
“When the last transports took off and the Seekers followed them.”
“Who was on the transports?”
“Praxians. They transported wave after wave of us. I watched them sort through my framekin. Some they loaded onto transports. Some they locked into warehouses.”
“What were they after?”
“Receptive sparks.”
“Oh frag.”
“Given what Vos has proven itself capable of, Cybertron has elected to be silent on the matter of hundreds of thousands of my framekin being taken into interfacial slavery.”
“Did the Senate know?”
“They knew what the Vosians were after. The transports appeared to surprise them. Crosscut had been surprised when I demanded he explain where the Vosians were taking these mechs. He refused my demands that he call up the enforcers to launch a counterattack.”
“Ya tried...”
“They cleared the precincts before they began processing the general population. By the time Smokescreen and I made it to the Core, there was no one to answer my comms.”
“How’d ya get down there?”
“Where is Bluestreak?” Prowl demanded. The fourth transport had taken off from the city centre. He could not understand how the Senate was standing by as half their population was being transported to Vos. Only Smokescreen had returned from school. Crosscut had not told him where Bluestreak was. He could not abide it.
“The Vosians wanted hostages from the Senate,” Crosscut replied. “He is fine.”
“They have thousands of hostages,” Prowl snapped. “Have you looked out the window? Have you looked.”
“He will not be harmed.”
“Have you no sense?” Prowl demanded. “They are looting Praxus of its mechanisms. They are stripping us of our defence. Why have you not summoned the Guard? Why have you not mobilized the enforcers? How can you just sit here and do nothing?”
“I am buying us time,” Crosscut slammed his fist down on the desk. His personal guard stood to his left and looked reproachfully at Prowl. The femme’s glare did not cow Prowl anymore than Crosscut’s fist.
“Time for what?” Prowl demanded. “How do you think this ends in anything other than the total submission of Praxus.”
“The codes to the Core have been transferred to the Vosian Honour Guard to ensure a smooth transition of power.”
“You gave the Core to the Vosians?” Prowl lunged across Crosscut’s desk and took him by the collar. “You gave Praxus to Vos.”
“Cooperation ensures we retain some autonomy.”
“It ensures nothing,” Prowl threw his Conjunx back. Road Rage helped him up after he bounced off the wall. She glared daggers at Prowl. “You self-righteous slagtard. You are selling the citizens of Praxus in the hopes that can maintain your authority.”
“Someone has to lead Praxus after the dust settles.”
“Where you the one who shot Lord Backfire? Or was that you, Road Rage.”
“Praxus does not stand a chance against Vos. Cooperation is essential to our survival.”
“Praxus stood a chance with the Core. But you threw that away. I am taking it back.”
“You will not,” Crosscut hissed. Prowl had his acid pellet rifle in his subspace and pointed it at his Conjunx and his guard.
“Try and stop me,” Prowl dared them.
“Smokescreen is in the lounge entertaining the Striker Trine,” Crosscut said, coolly. Prowl’s mechfluid froze in his lines. “Perhaps you should assist him.”
“You gave my youngling to Seekers?” Prowl screamed. “We do not even know if he is receptive or contributive yet.”
“You know they say you can influence how it goes,” Crosscut said. Yes. Prowl knew. They said if you filled a juvenile’s gestation tank with enough transfluids their spark would become receptive after their adult upgrades.
“I will kill you,” Prowl promised.
“If you want Bluestreak back safe and sound, you are going to get into line, Prowl,” Crosscut said. “Go on. Maybe the Strikers would prefer a proven receptive to a novice.”
Prowl stormed from Crosscut’s office. Crosscut had his back against the wall, but Prowl only needed some time. He needed to secure his youngling and then he needed to find his sparkling. When he had them secured he would reclaim the Core. Prowl would reclaim Praxus. His spark was in his fuel tank when he got to the lounge. As much as he wanted to burst in, rifle firing, he could not put Smokescreen in the line of fire. He smoothed his expression and stepped through the door.
“Mm now this is a treat,” the pale-faced green Seeker purred. Prowl did not scream, though he saw Smokescreen writhing in his grasp. He did not scream, but walked towards them. “The Senator’s own breeder.”
“Gentlemechs,” Prowl said, letting none of his hate into his field or his voice. “Perhaps you would like some engex?”
“Does the Senator have anything good?” The Seeker asked. He released Smokescreen and Prowl made a silent prayer of thanks. His creation stumbled and around the couch.
“His collection is considered one of the best, Cybertron wide,” Prowl replied.
“His best engex then,” the Seeker, clearly the commander of this Trine, ordered.
“Smokescreen?” Prowl said. “Fetch a bottle of the Platinum Label Sapphire Engex. The vintage, Gentlemechs, is twenty thousand vorns old.”
“Very nice,” the green mech purred.
“Are you sure?” His subordinate asked. This mech was a pale purple, with faceplates as pale as his leader. “Letting the mechling go?”
“I’m sure we can trust him to come back,” the leader said as he caught Prowl by his wrist. It took everything in Prowl not to thrash. “We have his origin here, after all. I’m sure Smokescreen doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him, do you? Mechling?”
“No, Sir,” Smokescreen said, with a hiss of temper. His doorwings twitched rudely. The Seekers laughed.
"Then be quick,” the leader laughed as Smokescreen ran out the door. He smirked at Prowl. It was the only warning Prowl had before he was tossed onto the couch. He tried to right himself but the leader was over him. His claws sank into the plating of Prowl’s thighs as he forced his legs open. “His best engex and his best whore. This is going turning into a good mega-cycle for us, Brothers.”
“He deserved to die,” Prowl said, staring into the distance. “If anyone deserved to die in Praxus, it was him.”
“Come wit me, Prowl,” Jazz said as he stood.
“Where?” Prowl asked, having forgotten for a moment who he was talking to and why he was talking to him.
“Home, obviously,” Jazz replied. Prowl stared up at him.
“You are just going to take me at my glyph?” Prowl asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“No one else has. Crosscut was well liked with his counterparts Cybertron-wide. He one the Novus Peace Accord.”
“Those same mechanisms are ignorin’ the fact Vos botnapped thousands of mechanisms, right?”
“Yes?”
“Yeah, I don’t think ‘m gonna put much stock in their opinions,” Jazz snorted. Prowl could not stop staring at the mech. “What brought ya to Simfur, Prowl.”
“Master Yoketron.”
“Ya knew the Master.”
“I trained under him briefly, in the same class as Lockdown, when my procreators were stationed in Simfur. I was unaware he had been killed.”
“When ya came to the dojo, ya’d just landed.”
“Yes.”
“That sucks slag,” Jazz declared. “Ya know I woulda given ya a place to recharge if ya’d told me ya knew Master Yoketron.”
“I was. I am a stranger.”
“Master Yoketron never turned away a stranger. I wouldn’t be doin’m any honour if I forgot his generosity. Come on. Let’s go home. I gotta introduce ya to my procreators... Frag yer just platin’ ‘n struts, ain’t ya. I thought Smokey was a lil thin, but y’re wastin’. Genitor’s gonna take one look at ya ‘n make it his mission to fuel ya up.”
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justgames · 10 months ago
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