[rd][fic][Transformers G1] Imprint 2/2

[sakon76]

The hum of the mainframe and the cooling vents was a low constant in the background of the darkened lab as Prowl lay upon the examination table. He didn't bother testing his restraints; he'd already done so upon coming online, and come to the conclusion that he was unable to either escape from them or damage them to the point where he was able to escape. He hadn't been built with inherent weaponry in mind, and Starscream had made sure that there was nothing Prowl could reach to aid him in his dilemma.

He wondered where the Decepticon scientist had gone. His side burned, raw circuitry exposed beneath his paneling where Starscream had cut it open to insert lines of code into his programming. The scientist had gloated, seeming to enjoy telling Prowl just what the program would do, before offlining him so it would have time to do its work uninterrupted. Prowl resisted the urge to shudder. The featureless walls of the laboratory gave no indication of how much time had passed, but if his internal chrono was functioning correctly, and Starscream's estimates of the time it would take were right... he was well and truly infected now.

Logic dictated that the scientist had gone off to fetch his master. Prowl wondered mithlessly if he was to be a gift or a bribe. Either way, he'd rip out his own laser core before serving the Decepticon cause, particularly after witnessing first-hand their methods like this.

Assuming, of course, that the virus would let him.

The door hushed open and Prowl quickly powered down his optics, refusing to make it easy for the Decepticon scientist and his leader. Even one more minute of freedom from bondage was worth it....

"Hey now, what's this here?" a soft, musical voice asked curiously, a voice that most definitely did not belong to Starscream or Megatron. A hand touched Prowl's shoulder gently. "You awake, man? Swear you ain't a 'Con, and I'll get you outta here."

Startled by the unexpected offer, Prowl's optics flew open.

Imprint
by K. Stonham
prereleased 8th December 2007

His rescuer's name was Jazz, Prowl found as the black and white Autobot pulled a highly illegal Bonds key out of a hidden compartment in his wrist and used it to free Prowl. He grinned, seeing Prowl's optics follow the key, before hiding it away again. "Police?" he asked as Prowl sat up, rubbing gingerly at his wrists, feeling the energon flow kick in again now that they were no longer restricted.

"Lieutenant, and lecturer at the Academy," Prowl confirmed. "You?"

"Now that's a secret." Jazz looked around the lab. "Took a wrong turn to be ending up here, but long as I'm here...." He turned back to Prowl and quirked a wicked smile. "You interested in dishing out a little payback?" he asked.

Prowl couldn't help his own smile. "You are a mech after my own laser core," he replied, then froze. The program... he'd forgotten about it for a minute. If Starscream was right... he looked up at his new companion, optics widening slightly in horror and realization.

If Starscream was right, he'd already imprinted on Jazz. Anything Prowl felt from here on out for the Autobot was suspect to be originated from the virus.

"You all right?" Jazz asked, voice and expression concerned.

Prowl took a breath, forced his worries and concerns aside. "Starscream infected me with something. It's probably best if we don't touch until one of your medics can examine me and determine how virulent it is."

Jazz nodded solemnly. "Gotcha, Prowl." He canted his gaze around the room again. "Still, doesn't mean we can't do some damage on our way out. Gotta make a grand exit, you know?"

Prowl smiled just a little. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

*

Megatron gazed unimpressedly at the wreckage of his pet scientist's lab, even as said scientist alternated between wailing in horror as he sifted through the debris, and cursing the Autobot sympathizer who had done this as part of his escape. "Starscream," Megatron finally said, cutting through the jet's vocalizations.

"Yes, Megatron?" Starscream asked, on his knees and looking up. Megatron savored the view.

"Do you at least have an intact copy of the virus?" he asked reasonably.

"Yes, Megatron, I carried a copy on me," Starscream replied eagerly, opening a compartment on his chest and pulling out a round silver disc, which he handed over.

Megatron regarded it thoughtfully. "It still needs to be tested, before we can implement it as part of our recruiting techniques," he noted.

"Yes, Megatron," Starscream agreed, rising. "I'll instruct Thundercracker and Skywarp to find another test subject--"

"No need," Megatron interrupted.

"No need?" Starscream repeated blankly. "But Megatron--"

"It occurs to me," Megatron overrode him smoothly, "that using an Autobot sympathizer for a test subject may not have been the optimal course of action after all. If the program is faulty, what greater moment of vulnerability to an attack than when one is rewarding a 'pet'?" he asked rhetorically. "No," he mused, "I think we need a more willing volunteer. One who has already proven his worth to the Decepticon cause."

"Do you have someone in mind, Megatron?" Starscream asked hesitantly.

He met the scientist's optics and smiled. "Why, yes," Megatron agreed. "I do."

Starscream's optics widened.

*

"Well, you are thoroughly infected," the Autobot medic, Ratchet, said, leaning forward against the console that was displaying the programming code of the virus. He looked back at Prowl where he sat on the examination table. "The good news is that the virus isn't actively contagious. It won't spread from you by any means of contact."

Prowl nodded. That, at least, was good news. "So I am actively imprinted, then."

A shade of something--sorrow? regret?--washed over the medic's face. "Unfortunately, yes." He hesitated. "Jazz is a very kind individual--"

"I don't want him to know," Prowl interrupted. Ratchet blinked, startled. "Please," Prowl added as a courtesy.

"But if--" Ratchet started.

"Life can be lived without overloading," Prowl told him, which was more or less the truth anyway. He couldn't remember the last time he'd interfaced. "And the last thing I need or want is pity. Jazz's, or anyone else's."

"If you're sure about that, Prowl," Ratchet said solemnly.

"I am." Prowl looked up at the medic, meeting his optics, and allowed himself a small smile. "Now, where do I sign up?" he asked. "Since my days of fence-sitting seem to be over."

*

Starscream woke up in the darkness and winced. His dermal plating ached and throbbed painfully where it had been wrenched open to....

Oh.

His optics flew wide as he remembered the malicious grin on Megatron's face as his faction's leader infected him with the virus Starscream had created. The one that would--

"Starscream: awake, Megatron," a disturbingly monotone voice intoned. Starscream didn't turn his head to look and see who it was, mind already racing to find a way out of this situation. Whoever he saw next would be the only one he would ever be able to achieve release with. The coding was permanent, erasing all freedom of choice in the matter. If he could blast free, escape from Cybertron, return to that desolate winter planet where--

Megatron's face came into his field of vision, and Starscream froze. He would swear that he could feel the coding take effect, rewriting his circuits and neural pathways to the tyrant's pleasure. "Well, Starscream," Megatron said cheerfully, "let's see what kind of effect that virus of yours has had. Soundwave," he instructed his lackey, "restrain him. Reflector, test his limits."

*

"Welcome on board," Optimus Prime said warmly, shaking Prowl's hand. "We're glad to have a member of your intellect joining us. I only wish the circumstances had been better."

"If circumstances were better," Prowl replied, "we wouldn't be in this war."

That wrung a laugh from Optimus and most of the others in the room. "You've already met Jazz and Ratchet, of course," he said, and Prowl nodded. "Bluestreak," he addressed one of the others in the room, a gray and silver mech who looked like he came from the same region of Cybertron that Prowl originally had, "would you be able to give Prowl the 'grand tour' and introduce him around? Be sure to stop by the armory and have him outfitted with anything he needs," he instructed.

"Sure thing, Optimus!" Bluestreak replied happily.

Optimus nodded and turned back to Prowl. "I'd show you around myself," he said apologetically, "but I'm due for a conference call with Elita-One and Ultra Magnus in a few breems."

"Of course," Prowl said with an understanding nod. "I'll see you around, sir."

"I'm sure you will," Optimus Prime replied, and turned to go to his meeting as Bluestreak bounced up to Prowl.

*

Starscream's vocal capacitor had long since given out and his chassis was starting to threaten to melt underneath the sheer heat he was generating as his engine revved high. But no matter how sweet or sharp the touches of Reflector's six hands, nothing, nothing was able to push him over the edge. He just lay there, sobbing, energon tears running from the corners of his optics as the triplicate transformer continued his assault.

"Well, Soundwave, your opinion?" Megatron asked from where he leaned against the wall.

"Virus: successful," Soundwave opined. "Starscream: helpless. Unable to achieve overload without assistance of imprinted individual."

"I quite agree." Megatron grinned lazily, then raised his voice. "Reflector! Your assistance is no longer required. Return to your duties."

"As you wish, Megatron." The three-in-one stood, bowed, and retreated. Starscream lay on the floor in overclocked agony, starting to wish for a blast from Megatron's fusion cannon. That, at least, would end his writhing misery and need.

Megatron strode closer and knelt beside Starscream's head. "Congratulations, Starscream," he placated. "It seems your virus worked. Aren't you proud?" Starscream couldn't even move his head to agree or not. "I think you deserve a reward for your hard work, don't you?" He scraped the barrel of his cannon lightly along Starscream's chassis. Starscream shuddered. "Yes, a reward is in order," the Decepticon leader mused, and plunged a lightning-fast hand into Starscream's exposed wiring.

Mutely, Starscream shrieked at the touch, his laser core calling one name while his body reacted to another. The pain and pleasure crashed through him, offlining him into merciful, anonymous blackness. Skyfire, was his last whimpered thought.

*

"Ratchet!" Bluestreak crashed through the medbay's doors, another mech carried in his arms. "Help! I don't know what's wrong-- I didn't mean to--"

Ratchet's optics widened at the sight of Prowl offline in the gunner's arms. "Put him on the table," he said, striding over. Was there something he'd missed with the virus, he wondered, then recoiled at the heat coming off Prowl's frame. "Primus, he's having a meltdown," he muttered to himself, and swiftly hooked Prowl into several coolant lines. "Bluestreak," he said while he worked, "tell me what happened."

"After I finished showing him around I was offshift so we went to the cantina to get some energon," Bluestreak babbled as Ratchet released body armor catches and opened Prowl up as much as he could to help disperse the dangerous heat. "Only the twins had some of their new batch of high-grade and Sideswipe said for us to test it for him and it was pretty good but it has a really sharp edge and then Prowl and I ended up in my quarters talking about home and one thing led to another and--"

Ratchet looked up sharply. "Are you telling me the two of you interfaced?" he demanded.

"I didn't mean to, it just happened, but I couldn't get him to overload and I really wanted to because he made me overload so I thought it was only fair, but then he got overheated and fell offline and I panicked and didn't know what to do--"

Ratchet resisted the urge to slap a palm against his forehead. Or just find the nearest flat surface and start hitting his head against it. It would feel so good when he stopped....

"Primus," he muttered. "I'm stationed with a bunch of self-destructive idiots." There were days (most days, in fact) when he was fairly sure Primus hated him. He looked back up at the babbling gunner. "It's nothing you did, Bluestreak," he told the young Autobot. "If Prowl had listened to me, this wouldn't have happened. Just... go back to your quarters," he implored for the sake of his own sanity and Prowl's dignity. "He'll be fine."

"If you're sure," Bluestreak hedged. He hesitated. "I'm really, really sorry about this, Ratchet."

"You're not the only one," Ratchet grumbled. He sighed. "Go get some recharge, kid. Don't worry about Prowl. He'll be back up and running, and wiser for the experience, in the morning."

"Okay," Bluestreak said, and left, though not without a worried glance backwards at the unconscious mech on Ratchet's examination table.

Ratchet sighed and looked down at Prowl. "Honestly," he groused. "Here I'd thought you were supposed to be sensible, reasonable, and likely not to damage yourself and end up in my medbay." He paused and considered his own words, then smiled slightly. "Well, if nothing else," he added in a more cheerful tone, "you'll fit right in with everyone else around here."

*

Starscream woke alone, and on his back. Slowly he pushed himself to his elbows, then sat up. A dark blue hand appeared in his field of vision as he was about to consider standing, and he looked up to meet Soundwave's visored gaze.

"What do you want?" he demanded irritably through his damaged vocalizer. A part of him heard its shrill, scratchy sound and winced.

"Assistance offered," Soundwave replied quietly. "Megatron: not to be trifled with."

Starscream smacked the communications officer's hand aside and stood, albeit a bit shakily. "I had garnered that for myself, thank you," he retorted. "Why are you here?"

"Concerned," Soundwave replied as Starscream looked around the ruins of his lab. "Virus: contagious? Stable?"

"It's not a degenerative disease," Starscream snapped. "And it's non-transmissable save by direct injection of the code." He paused, then turned and looked at Soundwave. "Don't tell me you want to be infected?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Negative," Soundwave answered. "Only data desired."

Starscream scoffed. "Ask Megatron," he replied derisively. "He has the only copy of the virus."

"Negative," Soundwave replied again, producing a silver disc. "Only copy in my possession."

Starscream took the proffered disc and contemplated it. The coding had been beautiful, perfect, a challenge to alter and create something new, something serious, something deadly that would change the war and Cybertron as they knew it. It had been a chance to prove himself in the Decepticon ranks, to earn that expedition back to the winterbound planet where he'd lost his partner. The expedition Megatron had promised him.

Megatron had lied, and it no longer mattered if he got Skyfire back. Because even if he did, Skyfire's touch could never affect him again. They could never be what they had been. Something that had been pure and unsullied now was lost... by Megatron's hand. Mouth curved down in a frown, Starscream tossed the disc in the air and fired at it with both arm blasters. It shattered into a million glittering pieces that fell in a rain down upon the floor of his lab.

He looked back up at Soundwave. "Why give me the disc back?" he demanded.

"Virus: unnecessary," Soundwave answered. "Decepticon victory: foreordained. Method: distasteful."

Starscream smirked. "You know, Soundwave," he said consideringly, "this could be the beginning of a beautiful alliance...."

Soundwave shook his head. "Unlikely," he replied, and walked out of Starscream's lab.

*

Prowl onlined to find a pair of blue optics looking into his, and his primary energon pump skipped a beat. "Hey," Jazz said. "You feeling okay?"

Prowl nodded and, unlike the last time he'd been lying on a table with Jazz looking down at him, sat up, unrestrained. Memories of a perhaps overcharged encounter with Bluestreak flashed through his processor, and he frowned, knowing he needed to apologize to the gunner. He didn't like to think of it as using him, but... he'd been so desperate to prove that the virus hadn't worked that he hadn't been completely fair to the marksman either.

"Ratchet's recharging," Jazz told him quietly, with a nod toward a door in the corner of the room. "He told me to tell you that you're a glitching moron, that you should know better, and that he expects you to respect that from now on." The saboteur flashed a grin at Prowl. "Not that I know what he was going on about," he confessed. "Unless you want to fill me in?"

"Not really," Prowl declined. He looked at Jazz's attractive visage, and made the decision to shut it all away, everything he felt. He probably would have liked Jazz without the program's compulsion, he thought... but he couldn't be sure. He didn't even really know who Jazz was yet.

"Word comes through the network that Megatron was pissed about us wrecking Starscream's lab," Jazz drawled.

"I imagine Starscream was none too pleased either," Prowl replied drily.

Jazz snickered. "Nope, don't imagine he was," he agreed. "Brilliant piece of work you did back there, man."

"Half the work was yours," Prowl pointed out.

"Wiping his data discs?" Jazz argued. "Your idea." Prowl shrugged, and Jazz grinned, extending a hand. "Prowl, my man," he said, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Prowl looked at Jazz's hand, reminded himself that the virus couldn't be spread by contact, and that Jazz didn't know about it anyway. He smiled slightly, and gripped the saboteur's hand, accepting the implied friendship. To his relief, Jazz's simple touch didn't have any effect on him. "To friendship," he agreed.

*~*~*

Author's Note: This story was inspired by vericus aka Crimson Starlight's "Prowl and Sideswipe's Excellent Adventure" series, particularly the third chapter which made me wonder why exactly Prowl was getting so worked up about the state of his relations with Jazz. The plotbunny hopped off from there down its own particular crack-filled path. There may or may not eventually be a third part to this (likely to contain a large portion of smut if I ever find an imperative reason to write it) which will probably be set Earth-time and contain Jazz finding out about this whole thing Prowl's been keeping from him since the day they met. But, as I said, it's not currently bugging at me to write it because I can't think of anything it might say that others haven't said better before.