PJ Chronicles 2- Capture
Prowl rebooted sluggishly, feeling a distinct throbbing pain at the back of his helm. The first odd thing he noticed was that he was standing. The next thing was that there was something pressing uncomfortably on his knees, chest, helm and doorwings, and when he brought his optics online, his logic chips did a double take.
There was absolutely nothing where he felt there was. Nothing visible, at least. Beyond that was an unfamiliar room, probably somewhere deep in a Decepticon base, which he deduced from the lack of windows and the Decepticon insignia emblazoned across the door to his right. Opposite him was a large computer console with a camera mounted on top of it. Before it sat a stocky, dirty yellow mech. Prowl straightened, relieving the pressure on various parts of his frame. He raised his hand, and to his horror, it was obstructed on its way to rubbing his helm.
Then it clicked into place. He was sandwiched between the wall and a sheet of plexiglass. He straightened immediately, experimentally pushing against the sheet with his body weight. No such luck. Turning his head, he confirmed his worst fears- he wasn't sandwiched. He was boxed in. A slight reflection on either side told Prowl that he was in a transparent box exactly the 'right' size for him. It was oddly reminiscent of a coffin. With a shudder, he banished the thought.
He then directed his thought train to his options, which, frankly, weren't many. He decided to go with what he was familiar with- protocol.
Oh dear, Prowl thought unhappily. Who was I to think that I'd be relatively all right with a 'desk job' as a tactician, who is supposed to observe the situation from a safe distance and not throw himself into the fray? Of all the things that Prowl could see himself getting into, being kidnapped had never one of them. In fact, he didn't even consider the possibility.
Prowl started with a systems check. He accessed his communication system, and as expected, it was disabled. His weapons system was down too, but fortunately his GPS was till working. Quickly, he accessed it and too slowly, it notified him that he was halfway around the planet from Autobot HQ, in a huge desert in a major landmass but the poor satellite reception prevented him from getting any more information.
Prowl groaned internally. They'll never be able to find me here…
The doors slid open, and a black and red mech stepped in. The yellow mech leaped to his feet and saluted clumsily. They exchanged a few words, and when the black and red mech jerked his head towards Prowl, the yellow one turned shocked optics on Prowl before offering his comrade a sheepish grin.
The black and red mech stalked over to Prowl and rapped his knuckles sharply on the plexiglass, and Prowl flinched. Ruby optics bored into his light blue ones.
"Hey you in there."
Prowl glared at the mech. "What do you want?"
The mech smirked. "We want a ransom, information, or both. Speaking of which…"
He sauntered over to the console and snapped at the yellow mech. He tapped at the keys for a while, bringing the screen online. Prowl read the words scrolling across the screen.
'Connecting to Autobot Headquarters, Campheux…'
The screen flashed white, then Jazz's face appeared, along with a little box with a live video feed of the computer's camera, currently displaying the yellow mech's ugly mug. It was quickly replaced with the black and red mech, who had shoved his comrade out of his seat. Prowl strained to hear the conversation going on.
"Greetings Autoscum." A smirk stretched the Decepicon's faceplates.
Jazz's visor didn't really hide his scowl. "What do you want?"
The black and red mech feigned surprise. "What do I want? I was going to ask you that. I do believe that we have something that belongs to you. Don't you want it back?" With that, he moved out of the way and let the camera focus on Prowl behind him.
If Jazz was shocked, he did a damn good job of hiding it. Prowl stared intently at his friend, watching as that carefully blank expression did nothing to stop his anger form rolling off him in tangible waves, even through the camera.
"You will give him back…"Jazz growled, but the black and red mech merely laughed.
"Oh of course we will. Only after we get… let's see. This fellow seems worth about… fifty thousand cubes of energon? Yes, that seems about right." He checked his chronometer. "In a solar cycle."
Jazz seemed about to retort, but the Decepticon cut him off.
"Nuh uh. Before you say anything- do you see that? There, at the bottom of his box, there's a tube." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Jazz nodded tersely. Prowl looked down, and there indeed was a tube leading to his box. The Decepticon paused for effect, then with a wicked grin, he said, "It's hooked up to a vat of acid."
Prowl's energon ran cold.
"If we get the energon late, you can collect what's left of your dear comrade. Which wouldn't be much, sadly."
With a cackle, the Decepticon cut the transmission.