
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5300870.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/
      Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Transformers_-_All_Media_Types, Transformers_Generation_One, The
      Transformers_(IDW_Generation_One), Transformers_Animated_(2007)
  Relationship:
      Jazz/Bloodstorm, Prowl/Bluestreak/Smokescreen
  Character:
      Jazz_(Transformers), Bloodstorm_(Transformers_OC), Prowl_(Transformers),
      Smokescreen_(Transformers), Bluestreak_(Transformers), Thunderstrike_
      (Transformers_OC)
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Gore, Torture, Sadism, Masochism, Sticky_Sexual_Interfacing,
      Rape/Non-con_Elements
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-28 Updated: 2016-01-12 Chapters: 4/5 Words: 10269
****** Sepulchral ******
by russianwinter013
Summary
     After a night at the bar with his partner, Jazz is captured by his
     worst enemy, otherwise known as the Incarcerator. The conditions that
     he is forced to bear with are comparable to that of hell, and he must
     fight to survive if he ever wants to see the light of day again.
***** Chapter 1 *****
"Jazz, I do not think that is a good idea."
"Aw, relax, would ya, 'Storm? 'Sides, it ain't like we breakin' the law or
nothin'."
Crimson armor rippled as the triple changer rolled his optics. "That is exactly
why I am worried."
The small silver-white mech stopped to stare at his partner. "Hey, Ah don't
break the law tha' often! Ah just find ways ta bend it ta mah will."
"Is that why we are going to an illegal bar?" Bloodstorm muttered, wings rising
and fanning out wide as his engines growled.
Jazz laughed, wrapping his servos around one of the crimson mech's. "Ya need ta
stop thinkin' like a cop, especially in a place like this." The Polyhexian
traced his claws over the thick crimson armor. "Wanna know why?"
The triple changer vented heavily, a faint smirk pulling back the corner of his
mouthplates. "Why, my dear little hunter?"
"It's 'cause ya'll die." Jazz stared up at the mech, visor burning bright as
his electromagentic field rippled wildly. "Ya'll get a shot ta the chest tha'
ya won't survive, an Ah'll be sittin' there tellin' ya Ah told ya so." His mood
changed abruptly as he grinned brightly, bouncing on his pedes as his grip on
the larger mech's servo tightened. "This is tha place."
Bloodstorm turned to look at the building. It was fairly large for a bar, with
polished silver metal walls and crimson lettering on the entrance. The
overpowering smell of highgrade wafted around the building, making him flick
his wings in an unreadable emotion as his vents spiraled open and released
heated air.
"Well, wha' are ya waitin' fer?" Jazz was literally bouncing up and down, visor
shining bright, and Primus, if that grin didn't make him look hot. "C'mon!"
===============================================================================
 
The inside of the bar was bright and hot. Pulsing strobe lights lit the room in
various colors, and heavy dance music pounded out of the speakers to rattle the
internals of every mech or femme in the room.
Jazz grinned and spread out his servos wide as he approached a mech standing
behind a bar counter. "Chromecast? How ya doin'?"
The mech in question, a tall and slim mech with reflective silver armor, turned
and gave a surprised laugh. "Jazz? What are you doing here?"
"Tryin' ta hook up mah partner with somethin' good. He's a lil' rough 'round
the edges, if ya know what Ah mean." The bounty hunter's visor twinkled in
amusement as he gave a sly grin.
Chromecast turned to fix his gaze on Bloodstorm, and the triple changer was
surprised to see that the mech was blind. He bared his fangs, restless, as the
bartender opened a side door from inside the bar counter and stepped out,
silently making his way towards the triple changer. Once he was close enough,
Chromecast leaned in close and inhaled deeply. After a moment of contemplation,
the mech stepped back.
"Tough one alright, I can tell you that." The silver mech leaned against the
counter, crossing his servos over his chest. "But I am sure I can put something
together for him." He turned and scowled as a mech at the end of the counter
yelled at him in another language. Chromecast visibly bristled, armor flaring
wide as he stalked over and cursed at the mech. Turning to look over his
shoulder panel, he gave the Polyhexian and the triple changer a thumbs up. "Be
right back to get your stuff after I settle this."
"He's a strange one, alright. May be blind, but man, does he pack a mean
punch." Jazz faced Bloodstorm, noticing the way his wings were tensed and the
way his talons were extended to vicious points. "Hey, it's tha way he figures
out what's best fer ya. Tha mech doesn't have any optics, can ya blame 'im?"
"You know how I am about my personal space." The crimson mech took to glaring
at the nearest wall, optics flickering from a warm golden to a boiling crimson.
Jazz frowned, nudging at the mech's side. "Storm. Snap outta it." He dug his
talons deep into the larger mech's armor, hard enough to draw Energon. When all
Bloodstorm did was snarl, the Polyhexian tugged insistently at his servo.
"C'mon. Ah wanna show ya somethin'."
Bloodstorm shuddered, shaking his helm. "Jazz, I cannot - "
"Storm, ya know tha' if anythin' happens, Ah'll be there. Ya won't lose
control, and Ah'll get ya outta there. Ya hear?" The Polyhexian was staring up
at his partner, gaze full of earnest and grim determination.
"Fine." The triple changer shook himself. "Now, what is it that you wished to
show me?"
===============================================================================
"What exactly is in this again?"
Bloodstorm spoke from his seat at an expensively luxurious settee, a servo
wrapped protectively around the Polyhexian at his side. Jazz had been almost
childlike in his eagerness, having urged Chromecast to make the highgrade
concoction that he was designing for Bloodstorm and then dragging the triple
changer to a back room that was lighted even darker than the open bar. The
faint, lingering scent of different forms of highgrade was ever present, and
there were couches and berths no doubt reserved for more adventurous
activities. As the two had walked into the room, there was one spot open near
the back corner, in between a mech that was fragging his mate from behind and a
booth that was almost completely darkened except for a winged mech that was
sitting there with shuttered optics and a servo braced against his helm as if
he were suffering from a processor ache. He had seemed to sense the presence of
the triple changer and Polyhexian, and out of the black veil two burning green
optics blazed bright.
"Primus, 'Storm, ya're gonna be the death o' meh." Jazz shifted almost
restlessly, electromagnetic field pulsing and armor resettling over his frame
as he vented heavily.
The larger mech gave a huff of a laugh. "I thought that was already established
the day we met."
"Shut up." Jazz grinned, swatting the mech on his servo before reclining on the
sofa they were on with a deep sigh. Twisting his body so he was stretched out
across the triple changer's lap, he traced his talons over the deep scars in
the crimson armor even as his free servo cradled the highgrade cube he had.
"Chromecast is one o' tha best out there. He knows exactly wha' ta give ta a
mech or femme. Likes a challenge, which is wha' ya gave 'im, since ya're a
triple changer an' aren't affected by highgrade like us smaller frames."
"Jazz? Is that you?" A smooth, cultured voice sounded behind them, and the two
mechs turned to see a tall and slim blue mech heading towards them. His bright
golden, blue, and white optics burned a hole through the dim lighting, fixed
with an unnerving accuracy on the Polyhexian.
"Blurr. How are ya?" Bloodstorm could hear the distaste in his partner's voice,
and he gave a deep growl as the slim mech pulled up a chair and sat opposite
them.
The blue mech smirked at the triple changer, flashing white pointed dentia. "I
see you have a new partner. What is this, the fifth? Or maybe the sixth?"
"Ya know meh. Can't ever keep track." Despite his easygoing tone, Jazz was
bristling and tense; his hate for the mech was made clear even if Blurr wasn't
picking up on it.
Blurr sniffed and shifted, optics narrowing the slightest bit. "You are ever
the rowdy mech, I must say." He took a sip of the expensive highgrade that was
in his clawed servos, rising with an elegant grace. "Well, then. It was nice
seeing you. If you will excuse me."
"Yeah." Jazz growled lowly, fury rolling off of him in waves. He was torn from
his darkening thoughts as Bloodstorm shifted above him, baring his fangs at the
retreating mech.
"Hey. Ah'm right here. Don't focus on him." The Polyhexian dug his talons into
the scars on the mech's servos, making him hiss and turn to look at him. "He's
nothin' but a snob anyway. Ain't nothin' ta worry yaself 'bout."
Bloodstorm said nothing for a moment, and then Jazz made a surprised hiss as he
was pulled into a sudden embrace. Bloodstorm's servos were wrapped tightly
around him, preventing him from escaping, and Jazz could feel the burning heat
radiating off of the mech.
Purring, the bounty hunter shifted and rested his helm against the broad chest
of his lover. "Wha' are ya thinkin' about?"
"The case." The triple changer shuttered his optics, resting his helm on the
headboard behind the couch. "It bothers me."
Jazz was silent for a moment before he vented heavily and turned to face the
larger mech. "Look, 'Storm. Ah brought ya here so we could relax—mainly ya. Ya
need ta stop stressin' so much. Ya can't do nothin' if ya keep tryin' too
hard."
"I cannot not stop thinking about it." His engines rumbled gravely as a wash of
heated air left his flared manifolds. "Jazz, we are dealing with an extremely
elusive, extremely dangerous serial killer, one whose kill count continues to
grow orn by orn."
"Look, ya can't think this one through logically." The Polyhexian traced his
claws idly over the scars on his lover's armor, venting out heated air. "The
Incarcerator is a demented killer with no morals or qualms that will stop 'im
from levelin' this entire planet. Logic ain't gonna help ya here." Venting
heavily, the lithe mech stood, stretching with a groan. "C'mon. Ah'm takin' ya
ta meet someone."
Bloodstorm, knowing that Jazz would not stop until he had his mind on something
else, rose to his pedes. "Who, exactly?"
"Ah dunno. Someone or somethin' ta get ya ta stop thinkin' about this case for
at least a few hours." The Polyhexian perked up, pointing at the mech
Bloodstorm had seen earlier. "Let's go talk ta 'im. He looks lonely."
"He looks like that he does not want to be bothered with." The triple changer
flicked his wings, feeling a strange sense of unease wash over him as they
moved closer and closer. 
"Well, we'll found out when we get there." Jazz dragged the larger mech beside
him, approaching the seated mech with a bright yet mischievous grin. "Hey,
mech. Mind if we join ya?"
The mech opened his optics, fixing two bright lime optics on the two mechs
before him. A wash of chilled air poured from his flared manifolds as he
shifted in his seat. His servos were encircling a tall glass of bright blue
engex with hints of something crimson in it, and when he moved, long clawed
fingers scratched against the metal of the table as a pair of powerful flier
wings flared behind him. Bloodstorm felt his irritation and agitation rise as
that toxic green glare pierced him to his core, making him bare his dentia in a
soft warning as his grip tightened on his lover.
Wings rising in a neutral position, the mech nodded briefly, optics still
locked onto the crimson mech. 
"Great!" Jazz either chose not to or did not notice the vicious glares the two
were exchanging, sliding into the booth with a single graceful move. "Mah
name's Jazz, an' this is mah partner Bloodstorm. Ah'm just searchin' fer
somethin' ta get his mind offa work, and Ah think yer tha' perfect
distraction." He didn't give the green-opticed mech a chance to respond as he
leaned back in the booth seat. "So. Tell meh a bit 'bout yerself. Whatcha do
fer a livin'?"
With a tilt of his helm, the dark mech's mouthplates curled back in a brief
smirk that exposed sharpened dentia. "I get by with what I can. I do not have
much; the majority of my family was killed in a factory accident."
"Hmm." Jazz stared at the mech for a moment, optics flickering over his
faceplate. "Do Ah know ya from somewhere?"
Lime optics flickering, the winged mech frowned ever so slightly. "I do not
believe we have met. Or, at least, I do not remember."
"Ah swear tha' Ah've seen ya face somewhere 'fore." The Polyhexian leaned close
over the table, visor burning bright. "Ya sure we haven't met?"
Bloodstorm watched the mech's reaction carefully, noting the faint but still-
present flare of his wings. He spoke before the dark mech could, smirking
internally at the hellish green fire that burned. "Jazz, let the mech be. He
does not remember you if you have ever met."
"Ah'm just tryin' ta remember why he looks so familiar." The lithe white mech
growled softly, leaning against the broad frame of his lover as he grinned
almost apologetically. "Sorry fer antagonizin' ya. Ah can be a li'l pushy
sometimes."
"Oh, it is no bother at all. I deal with it all the time." Thin silver
mouthplates pressed together in a faint grimace as he glanced away briefly,
engine rumbling faintly. "It is a sensitive topic for me."
Jazz nodded in sudden understanding, visor brightening as he took a sip of his
drink, speaking after he had swallowed. "Yeah, sorry 'bout tha'." He caught the
pained frown that passed over the mech's faceplate, and he narrowed his optics.
"Ya alright, there? Ya don't look so hot."
Green optics burned with a brief wild light as the darkly colored mech lurched
to his pedes. Bloodstorm and Jazz did so as well, watching with guarded
concern.
The dark mech shook his helm, wings flaring out wide. "E-Excuse me for a
moment. I need..." He stumbled as his legs gave out, and he would have crashed
to the floor had Bloodstorm not steadied him. 
"No, no. I-I am fine. Let me be." Pushing himself up, the winged mech stood
hesitantly on his own. "I need to...just need to get something from..." He
never finished his sentence before he vanished without a trace.
As if nothing had happened, a group of mechs and femmes bounded over, all eager
to see Jazz and his new partner.
===============================================================================
"It bothers me that you are so well-known here." Bloodstorm growled, baring
pointed dentia with his wings fanning out wide as an inebriated femme attempted
to make her way closer to Jazz. "Especially since you are known by the ones
that I do not like."
The Polyhexian did not seem to notice the mech's reaction as he winked at the
femme, elbowing the triple changer roughly as he snarled. "Ah, lighten up, will
ya? Ah'mma have ta work with ya on not bein' a cop in public."
A heavy grip appeared on the bounty hunter's waist, and the next thing he knew,
he was in the air. Bloodstorm had pinned him roughly to a table that he had
cleared with a swipe of his servo and a snarl to anyone who protested, and now
he was looming over him with a hellish crimson glare.
"I said, I do not like it." His voice was deep and rumbling, filled with a
dangerous warning. "You are mine."
Jazz grinned, visor flickering in rising arousal. "Then why don't ya prove it
ta me?"
The triple changer bared lengthening dentia, wings flaring out wide and
enveloping the two of them in shadow. "Gladly."
===============================================================================
Jazz moaned into the kiss as he was pressed roughly against the wall, the
usually painful scrape and screech of his sleek armor sending a wave of
pleasure through him as the folds of his drenched valve slid along the searing
crimson armor of his lover.
Above him, Bloodstorm growled deeply, optics burning crimson as he ground his
interface panel against that of the smaller mech, relishing in the fluids
drenching him. "You have no idea how long I was waiting to do this to you...to
pin you against the wall and frag you senseless." He ground roughly against the
other, heat radiating off of him in waves.
The Polyhexian moaned again, throwing his helm back as he panted heavily. "Then
shut up and frag meh, mech. Ah've been waitin' too - !" He cried out as a long
and forked glossa was teasing over his exterior node, slipping through the lips
of his valve and skimming over the swollen nodes inside. 
Bloodstorm gave a heavy groan as lubricant and transfluid filled his mouth, and
his spike extended, pulsing and erect and twitching at the sounds of his lover
lost in his own pleasure. A pulse of pre-transfluid shot from the tip,
splashing onto the ground.
"'Nough teasin'." The silver-white mech's voice was filled with static and was
deeper than normal. His accent was more pronounced, and his visor burned a dark
shade of blue that showed his obvious arousal. Moving without warning, he
lunged at the other mech and pinned him to the floor, grinding heatedly against
him with heavy moans and curses. The triple changer growled as scorching
wetness passed over his spike, baring pointed dentia as he tried to arch and
throw the deceptively powerful mech off of him.
"Ooh, Ah've been waitin' fer this." Jazz grinned slyly, continuing to move his
hips as he strove for his own overload. "Been thinkin' 'bout yer thick, hard
spike in my valve. Gets meh wet whenever Ah think 'bout it, so much that Ah
jus' wanna hump tha nearest thing and overload all over it." He snapped his
dentia at the larger mech, visor burning almost hellishly. "Ya'd like watchin'
tha', wouldn't ya? Seein' meh grindin' against a chair and soaking it in mah
fluids. Ya'd like tha', wouldn't ya?"
Bloodstorm groaned deeply, spike straining away from him as he attempted to
arch off of the ground. "Jazz..."
"Hmm? Ya want somethin'?" The Polyhexian grinned darkly, digging his talons
deep into crimson armor. He rolled his hips, juices from his valve soaking the
mech beneath him. "Somethin' like this?"
A vicious snarl came from the larger mech's engines and vocalizer, and he threw
his helm back and shuttered his optics, spike throbbing as prefluid flowed from
the tip. "Jazz, I swear upon the Allspark if you do not frag me right now I
will frag you through the floor in your sleep."
"Oh, ya know Ah love it when ya talk like tha'." Jazz grinned roughly, flared
manifolds releasing hot air as he positioned himself over the other mech, valve
dripping freely.
Both mechs moaned as the Polyhexian sunk down onto the thick, throbbing spike,
his soaked valve walls rippling and fluttering as he grew accustomed to the
size of his lover. Bracing himself with his talons latched into the triple-
changer's chest armor, he lifted his hips until only the head of the spike
remained before sinking back down roughly, striking dangerously close to his
anterior node. 
"Ah...oh, yes, 'Storm, right there!" Jazz moaned unabashedly, valve fluttering
as his hips rose and fell in deep, slow motions. The head of his lover's spike
was thick and wide, and each time it entered his valve a flash of pain and
arousal flowed through him. Bloodstorm slid easily through the drenched folds
of his lover's valve, moaning and groaning as the wet walls attempted to suck
in the thick spike piercing the other.
Bloodstorm snarled, hips rising to meet the downward motions of his lover,
driving his spike deeper into the wet warmth of his partner's valve as he
moaned deeply. Jazz panted, hips moving faster as he rode the spike almost
viciously, valve rippling and sucking at it as lubricant stained his thighs and
the waist of the mech beneath him. 
"Ooh, yes!" Jazz moaned loudly, lubricant pouring down his thighs as he braced
himself on the broad chest of his partner, his hips a blur as he rode the thick
spike faster. "Storm, Ah'm gonna...gonna overload soon."
The triple changer did not respond verbally, instead giving a rough snarl to
signal his oncoming release. Moving without warning, he had the small mech
pinned to the floor, having reversed their positions as he fragged the
Polyhexian ruthlessly, fanged dentia nipping and tearing at sensitive wiring as
his rock-hard spike repeatedly slammed into his lover's ceiling node.
Jazz arched suddenly, visor flickering wildly and a cry of static-laced
pleasure escaping him as his valve rippled and clamped down hard. Lubricant
gushed from his valve in a rush as he ground against his lover's still
thrusting hips, prolonging his overload. Bloodstorm roared above him, and then
hot, thick, and sticky transfluid was filling his lover in a rush.
Both mechs laid there, cooling fans running at full speed in an attempt to
lower the temperatures of their overheating frames. Bloodstorm reached over
and embraced the smaller mech, uncaring of the fluids covering them as they
kissed violently. Jazz groaned at the pulse of the still-hard spike inside of
him, and he ground back against his lover, fluids slipping out of his valve.
Cringing suddenly, the Polyhexian intaked violently and pulled back with a
shudder, moaning as his frame heated even more.
"Jazz?" Bloodstorm traced his talons over the sides of his partner, amber
optics alive with concern. "What is it?"
"G-get offa meh." The white mech grimaced deeply, talons digging deep enough in
his lover's armor to draw Energon. "Let meh up, 'Storm. Ah don't...don't feel
well."
The triple changer did as told, steadying the mech as he swayed. Jazz groaned,
visor offlining and engine rumbling in his pain. He turned away from the larger
mech, ventilations heaving and hoarse as he coughed violently, hard enough to
bring up Energon. 
Bloodstorm snarled, optics narrowing as he placed his servos on those of the
smaller mech's. "Jazz, talk to me. What is wrong?"
The Polyhexian groaned, shuddering and shaking his helm as his visor flickered
dangerously. "Storm, Ah think Ah'm gonna..."
The triple changer didn't even have the time to react before he was holding the
limp, unconscious frame of his lover.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Jazz woke with a deep intake, his body jerking as it attempted to sit up. He
snarled when he realized that he was bound to the berth beneath him with
reinforced cybertonium straps. Taking in his surroundings, he came to the
conclusion that he was in the hospital nearest to the bar and hotel he and
Bloodstorm had been in before he had...passed out.
Baring his dentia in a pained and irritated scowl, he shouted to the door when
he realized that there was no way for him to contact the doctor.
"Hey! Ah know ya hear meh! Why don't ya come an' let meh out? Ah'm perfectly
fine."
All in all, what he said was only half-true. He really wanted to be let out -
hospitals just weren't his thing - but he had a vicious pounding in his helm
and his entire chassis felt like it was on fire even though his HUD told him
that his body temperature was much lower than what it usually was.
There was no response. His enhanced audio receptors couldn't even pick up the
slightest shift outside or around the room.
Venting heated air heavily, the Polyhexian shuttered his optics and lay back on
the berth, exhausted from the amount of energy that he had put into his
actions.
Rushing pedesteps sounded, and then the door to the room slammed open. Jazz sat
up immediately, almost regretting it as an aching fire ran through his body.
The being before him was a mech of a significant height. A long white garment
covered his armor, but through the opening on the mech's chest Jazz could see
the shimmering golden armor that covered the doctor's lithe frame. Wings rose
high above him, one covered in what seemed to be covered in what looked like
the remains of a large and gruesome scar. A mask covered the bottom half of the
mech's face, everything from the nasal ridge down, but two bright crimson
optics burned bright.
The mech was handsome, of that there was no doubt, but all Jazz was focused on
what getting out of this stupid hospital.
"It seems that you are awake." The mech spoke in a deep and rich voice, but the
hunter could tell that he was rather young. He moved with a silent grace,
approaching the bed-ridden Polyhexian. "How are you feeling?"
"Ah'm in a damned hospital. How do ya think Ah feel?" Jazz growled, baring his
dentia as he glared at the mech as his wings flicked up and out.
"Ah, no need to be so sour. I am merely trying to help you." The golden mech
glanced at the datapad in his servos, skimming through the contents. "Reports
have shown that you were poisoned with a substance called Engex-B713. It is
highly lethal, yet somehow you survived and actually did not offline during the
purging of the drug from your systems. An interesting fact, indeed."
"Yeah, Ah'm special," Jazz muttered, visor offlining for a split second. When
he turned it back on, however, the doctor was looming uncomfortably close.
"The slag, mech!" Jazz attempted to lurch away from the mech, only for an
acidic fire to tear through his body as he shuddered and moaned in pain. "Ah
swear, if Ah wasn't stuck in this Primus-forsaken medical berth - "
"There is no need for such profanity." The golden mech shook his helm, as if he
were scolding a sparkling. "I was merely checking to see if there was any
excess coolant or hydraulic fluid on your faceplates. Even though it does show
how much of the toxin has been expunged from your systems, I do realize how
uncomfortable it must be to have it constantly dripping into your optics and
oral cavity."
Jazz snarled, baring his dentia as he felt the urge to punch the mech in the
face. "Don' do tha' again, even if ya feel tha need ta. If Ah wasn't tha way Ah
am currently, Ah woulda taken a dagger ta ya optics."
A faint brightness flickered through the mech's optics. "Now, why would you go
and do that? You are just going to hurt yourself even more." Straightening up
to his full height, the mech flicked his wings and began to rummage through a
cabinet bolted to the wall. "If you tear open your wounds, especially after I
worked so hard to weld them shut, I will not be a very happy doctor."
"Wounds?" Jazz snarled, optics narrowing. "What are ya talkin’ about?"
The doctor fixed his crimson stare on him. "What do you mean? The wounds that
were on your servos, stabilizing struts, back, and thighs. There were some in
more…intimate areas, but I understand that you get my meaning." The sudden but
faint crinkle around the handsome mech's optics hinted that he was scowling.
"Were you raped, my dear mech?"
"Wha'?" Jazz hissed at the pain that ran through him as he turned to face the
mech in a violent series of movements, visor burning bright. "Why in tha world
would Ah have been raped?"
Crimson optics darkening to a deep burgundy, the doctor leaned against the wall
behind him and shook his helm. "Is it not obvious? You have numerous wounds in
rather intimate places, areas where only partners or bondmates that are active
in interface would be." His servos were crossed over his powerful chassis now,
and his wings were openly displaying his increasing irritation. "Explain to me
why I would not believe that this is rape when there are tears in your valve
lining, almost irreparable damage to your spinal struts, and cracked
infrastructure in your servos, thighs, and collar struts."
The Polyhexian stared a moment before giving a hoarse cough of a laugh. "Mech,
let meh tell ya, Ah ain't exactly tha nicest of bots. An' neither is mah
partner."
The doctor's ruby glare burned viciously as his engine growled deeply. "Oh, you
are one of those mechs, aren't you?" He did not give the silver-white mech a
chance to respond as he turned back to the cabinet, taking out a few canisters
of some sort of medicine. "Well, how about telling your partner to go a little
bit easier on you? Enough that you will not land yourself in the hospital
again."
"Wait." The warning in the Polyhexian's voice made the doctor pause to glance
at him. "Storm didn't do this. Put meh in tha hospital, Ah mean." He shook his
helm minutely as the doctor made to retort. "No, listen. Ah wasn't...no. Storm
didn't harm meh enough ta put meh in here, an' Ah can take pain pretty well. It
was tha' mech in tha bar. He put somethin' in mah drink."
"Oh?" The golden mech was reading the label on a container he had in his clawed
servo, optics narrow as he mouthed the words to himself. "Do explain this to
me."
Jazz scowled at the mech's tone, but leaned back on the berth and shuttered his
optics. "Some strange mech. Huge, possibly a Seeker or somethin' like tha'. He
had these...bright lime green optics, an' he spoke all cold an' detached.
Like...like he thought he was superior ta ev'ryone 'round him."
The doctor was nodding to show that he was listening. At the moment, he was
filling an Energon drip with a concoction of medications he had taken from the
cabinet. "And you believe that this mech was the one who poisoned you?"
"Wha', ya think it was 'Storm? He ain't done nothin', of tha' Ah can assure
ya." Jazz growled, narrowing his optics as the mech began to look apprehensive.
"Yes, tha' mech was tha one who poisoned meh, of tha' Ah am sure."
"Where is your proof?" the doctor demanded, wings rising high on his back. "You
possibly cannot believe that he was the one to cause such a drastic negative
influence on you."
The Polyhexian snarled at the mech, visor flashing in his rising irritation.
"Ya barely know 'nough about meh ta be makin' assumptions." He vented heavily
and spoke once more before the golden mech could intervene. "Look, everythin'
went downhill after tha mech left me and mah partner. After he excused himself
an' stumbled off."
"Stumbled off?" the mech scoffed, tilting his helm. "You make it sound as
though he were overenergized."
"Will ya stop contradictin' meh?" Jazz demanded, forcing himself to sit up once
more with a groan. "Tha' mech poisoned meh, tha' much Ah know, an' Ah don't
care what ya think or if ya believe meh or not."
"Did I not tell you that I would not be happy if you tore open your wounds
again?" The doctor was staring intently at him, optics almost insanely bright.
But the boiling anger vanished as quickly as it had disappeared. "Please, just
lay down and relax or I will have to drug you into stasis again."
"Ain't tha' what ya're about ta do?" The Polyhexian nodded at the Energon drip
bag in the tall mech's servos, electromagnetic field rippling in agitation.
"What?" The golden mech looked genuinely confused, seeming to forget that he
what he was holding, before he remembered what the mech was implying. "This?
Oh, no. This is for another patient. The medications I need aren't stocked up
in his room, and I doubt you'll be needing to take anything to alleviate
gestation chamber aching."
The doctor whipped around, crimson optics blazing bright. "This, on the other
hand," he continued, taking something from a pocket on the inside of his coat,
"Is for you." 
Jazz locked onto the syringe in the mech's clawed servo, and he shifted in
unease. "Ah told ya Ah'm fine, mech. Ah don't need - "
"I do not believe that I asked for your opinion." The golden mech was moving
closer, slowly and steadily. "I am the doctor, after all. I only have your
health in mind. Keep talking, however, and I may have to accidentally slip
sedatives in your next meal."
"Ya threatenin' meh, mech? Mah partner ain't gonna like tha' if he finds out."
Jazz narrowed his optics, a feral grin appearing on his faceplate. 
"Well, I suppose that it is a good thing that your partner isn't here." The
doctor was beside the Polyhexian now, glancing over a datapad he had taken from
the desk next to the medical berth. "My, my. You are one obdurate mech,
wouldn't you say? Quite the job you have."
"Yeah, well it ain't none of ya business. Ah—" The Polyhexian cut off with a
pained hiss as something sharp was jabbed into the side of his neck. "What the
frag, mech! What are y'a—?"
The doctor was looming over him once more, crimson optics blazing with a
hellish light. His faceplate mask had retracted, and Jazz could see the
unnaturally wide grin that stretched across the mech's face. In his hand, the
syringe was empty, a sign that he had just injected him with whatever had been
in there.
Jazz cringed as a dull pounding began in the back of his processor, and the
world began to blur and waver around him.
"Wha—wha' did ya...?" Jazz had trouble forming words, no doubt a result of the
poison running rampant through his body.
"Oh, you shouldn't try to speak. It certainly won't make a difference." The
mech straightened, and a thick yet cultured accent colored his voice, making a
haunted realization run through Jazz.
"Ya...ya're tha'..." He clenched his dentia together as he found it
increasingly difficult to form coherent words. "Ya're...Thunder—"
"Yep! Brownie points for you!" Thunderstrike grinned wildly, fangs now bared as
he seemed to pat himself on the back. "It sure is funny how having a science
background can help you in so many ways. Don't you think?"
The last thing Jazz heard was the demented laughter of the Incarcerator's
Second in Command.
===============================================================================
The Polyhexian woke with a start as an acidic fire ran through his frame.
Immediately, he noticed that he could not see a thing; his optics were covered
by a blinfold and his visor had been deactivated.
He sensed movement beside him, and then there was a telltale scrape of metal
over metal. "Oh. You are awake."
Jazz snarled, struggling against his bonds. "Ah swear ta Primus, mech, if ya
don't let meh out right now Ah'm gonna dissect yer sorry aft."
Thunderstrike gave a brief but powerful laugh as he shook his helm. "Sorry, but
no can do. Master's orders. I am not to let you out."
"Then yer promised a very painful death when Ah get outta here." He snarled as
two long, clawed digits slipped under the blindfold and tore it off.
The slim, golden frame of the doctor from the hospital loomed over him, and his
optics were filled with a dark amusement and hunger that was so different from
the concern the Polyhexian had seen earlier.
He snarled internally as the golden mech continued to survey him. So this was
the legendary Thunderstrike. The mech that had been a delivery rat but was now
the second in command of one of the most powerful mechs on the planet.
Hmph. Ah guess he wasn't as big as Ah first thought.
Heat poured off of the larger mech as he leaned closer, the dark grin that
appeared on his faceplate sending an involuntary chill down Jazz's spinal
components. Thunderstrike seemed to notice it and his grin widened to unnatural
levels, seemingly stretching from audio to audio as cold, acidic ventilations
washed over the restrained mech.
Thunderstrike spoke before Jazz could demand what he was doing, tracing long
and wickedly sharp talons over silver-white plating. "I absolutely adore your
scent. So dark and deep and rich." The golden mech shuddered almost violently,
pressing himself closer to the smaller, more delicate frame of his current
prey. "It gets me so hot and running. See?" Much to Jazz's disgusted shock,
Thunderstrike began to grind against him, moaning as he buried his faceplates
into the smaller mech's neck cabling. "All that is because of you. I have not
had anyone who has made me this hard in a very long time." Crimson optics bore
deep into narrow cobalt ones as the mech grinned maniacally. "It means that I
do not have to kill you outright. I can just play with you for however long I
want..."
Jazz growled in his increasing rage as he felt the telltale hardness of the
Seeker's spike against him, a hot and firm solidness that ran over his plating
with a vicious efficiency. Internally, the Polyhexian knew that he could not
force the larger mech off of him; Thunderstrike was far stronger than he
looked, and even if Jazz tried the Seeker's talons were sunken in deep into his
armor, and he knew that he would not want any dismembered limbs anytime soon.
Thunderstrike seemed to be nearing a brief overload as his hips moved faster
and faster, and Jazz could feel and smell the lubricant that was leaking out
from beneath the golden mech's codpiece. The Polyhexian snarled and attempted
to arch to get the mech off of him, but Thunderstrike merely hissed at him and
dug his claws in deeper, enough so that they were scraping harshly over the
surface of his infrastructure.
"Mech, Ah swear if ya don't get offa meh, Ah'll—" The Polyhexian hissed as the
Seeker's grip tightened viciously, and he could feel the creaking of his struts
as the mech applied the strength that he was not so well known for. 
"Mmm...you can't do anything. Not while I am here." Thunderstrike was venting
heavily, heat radiating from his chassis as his engine growled roughly. "You
know that you cannot force me off, else you would have done it already. You are
not...not all that you are said to be, are you?"
Jazz snarled, visor burning bright as the larger mech pressed even more of his
weight into him. "Ya'll see wha' Ah can do when get outta here, Ah swear."
"I would like to see you try," the golden mech mech groaned, his
electromagnetic field pulsing wildly as he vented heavily into the white mech's
audio horn. "You...you cannot do a thing, not while I am here...pinning you
down."
The mech seemed ready to overload, but before he could, a deep and powerful
voice boomed through the room.
"Thunderstrike!"
The golden Seeker snarled lowly, a feral and manic sound, before turning and
glaring at a hidden door behind them. "What?"
"You know you are not to be fraternizing with the prisoner." A hiss of
automatic hydraulics sounded, and then a slim and sleek mech entered the room.
He was tall, with pitch black armor and a bright crimson visor. He was
scowling; it seemed that he had a profound distaste for the Incarcerator's
Second in Command.
"Ah...you are just jealous." Thunderstrike had taken back to his grinding,
forked glossa extended as he twisted in a disturbing manner to be at optic
level with the newcomer. "You don't get to play with him."
The mech scowled. "I appreciate the offer, but if you want to be the one to
tell Master about how you disobeyed his orders, I'm all for that plan." He
turned and left before the golden mech could say anything.
Thunderstrike turned back to the Polyhexian, dentia bared in an irritated
snarl. Venting heavily, he was suddenly on his pedes and looming over the
restrained mech, venomous fangs extended and optics blazing insanely bright.
"Ah, well. I guess that means we will not have a lot of time to play." The mech
pouted for a brief moment, and then his talons were once again lodged deep into
the armor of the smaller mech. Jazz bit back a cry, and that seemed to irritate
Thunderstrike even more as his grip tightened to parameters that all but
shattered the bound mech's infrastructure.
"Thunderstrike. That is enough." An unmistakable, gravelly voice sounded behind
the golden mech. 
Our of the shadows, a huge obsidian mech appeared, crimson optics burning
bright. He had an air of power and fury radiating around him, and each step he
took was slow, steady, and deliberate. 
Jazz groaned internally as an unrelenting chill settled over him. 
The mech was Smokescreen.
The Incarcerator's second youngest brother, who was known for his sadistic and
masochistic tendencies and techniques that he would inflict on his prey.
"I was only testing him, Smokescreen. Does he not need to be ready for Master?"
Thunderstrike purred as the larger mech pulled him into a rough embrace,
moaning deeply as he was kissed violently. The two broke apart after a moment,
claret optics burning.
"Yes, he will be prepared." Smokescreen grinned darkly, wings flared in a
mixture of lust, anger, and impatience. "All we have to do is wait for
Brother."
Thunderstrike whined softly, frowning as he traced his talons over the broad
chassis of his temporary partner. "But Smokescreen, he is taking too long.
Can't we have some fun while we wait?"
Smokescreen's glare locked with that of the Polyhexian as he trailed a servo
over his partner's wings. "Yes. I suppose we can." He trailed his unoccupied
servo down to rub harshly at the golden mech's interface panel, eliciting a
moan and grind of those narrow hips.
"What do you say, bounty hunter?" Smokescreen's optics were two beacons of
maniacal hunger and want, his servo now pumping the Seeker's wet, hard spike.
"How do you feel about having some fun?"
Jazz bared his dentia and snarled as the black mech stared at him,
Thunderstrike writhing beneath him.
He would have to endure the twisted fantasies of these two madmechs for who
knows how long.
Wonderful.
Chapter End Notes
     The romance going on between Smokescreen and Thunderstrike is
     temporary, as stated in the story. The two have kind of an unhealthy
     relationship—they are really only together in order to be outlets for
     their sadistic and masochistic feelings.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the ridiculously long wait. My mom's getting married, so
     we're still setting up and preparing for that.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Jazz grimaced and offlined his visor as the sounds of Smokescreen and
Thunderstrike interfacing floated over to him, disgust rolling through him in
waves.
After threatening to rip off his wings, Smokescreen had forced the golden mech
to continue his torture on the bound Polyhexian, hissing in his audio that he
was not allowed to overload until he said so as he thrust his thick and hard
spike in and out of the Seeker's valve. Thunderstrike had moaned and whimpered,
his spike twitching at the words and releasing a spurt of fluids as he ground
his soaked valve against Jazz's leg like an animal in heat.
As the Seeker snarled and hissed like a feral Predacon, Smokescreen
straightened, his still-erect spike slipping out of his lover's valve.
Jazz growled in fury as a servo was suddenly on the back of his helm, and he
forced his visor online to see Smokescreen looming over him. His spike was
still hard and wet, twitching and dripping with fluids.
"Suck."
Jazz bared his dentia, visor and optics flashing dangerously bright. He
struggled against his bindings, engine growling lowly to display his anger.
Smokescreen gave a displeased rumble and then his talons were digging deep into
the armor on the smaller mech's collar struts as he yanked him close.
Crimson optics boiled feverishly as the obsidian mech glared. "I said, suck." A
sudden dark smirk curled back his mouthplates as he tilted his helm. "Unless
you want to be tortured for orns on end." His pointed dentia were bared in a
vicious grin as his engine growled powerfully. "I could feed you to Little
Blue, piece by piece. Or maybe even Thunderstrike. I am sure you would love
that."
Jazz snarled and continued to fight against his restraints, visor unnaturally
bright. "Ah'd rather suck Unicron's exhaust port than go anywhere near ya an'
tha' moanin', pitiful excuse fer a second in command over there."
Thunderstrike stopped his grinding, huge dentia bared as he growled viciously
and dug his talons deep into the wounds he had already created. "What did you
call me?"
The bounty hunter scoffed, rolling his optics even as his visor burned
brightly. "Wha' are ya deaf or somethin' too? Ya heard meh."
Crimson optics smoldering with a fire that belonged in the Pits, the golden
mech was pressing down hard on the Polyhexian's chest armor, his strength
easily crushing the protective metal over the spark casing. His dentia were
bared as the weight increased, and Jazz could not help but wince as the armor
began to slice through his protoform and brush against his spark casing.
 "Thunderstrike." Smokescreen was looming over the Seeker now, and his vents
were heavy and labored. He was seemingly restraining himself from pulling the
Seeker back, and his spike bobbed and swayed in the air with each movement he
made. "Come here."
The golden mech snarled roughly, wings twitching as he twisted to stare at the
larger mech. "But I thought you said—"
"—come here." The Praxian was trembling viciously, and his talons were digging
deep into his armor, and his spike twitched and spurted hot and thick
transfluid. 
Thunderstrike purred deeply, rising to his pedes and stalking silently towards
the larger mech. Once he was close enough, Smokescreen forced him to his knees
and shoved his spike deep in his mouth, moaning unabashedly as he strived for
his own overload.
Jazz grimaced and offlined his visor, leaning his helm back as he felt
unprocessed Energon rise in the back of his throat. Once he got out of there,
he would be sure to pay both of those disgusting mechs back for what they did.
A shiver ran down his spinal components, and with a jerk he sat up, optics wide
and vents coming faster. 
He knew that feeling. It meant he was coming.
"Very good, hunter. I see that your skills of observation are not wavering in
any way."
Two slanted golden optics appeared in the shadows to the side of Smokescreen
and Thunderstrike, and without a noise, the mech known as the Incarcerator came
forward.
He regarded the two interfacing mechs beside him with a look of clear and cold
disinterest, growling softly before he faced the Polyhexian once more. "Why
such a long face, my dear? Have my comrades not been treating you well?"
The bounty hunter snarled as he struggled with his restraints, engine roaring
and visor dangerously bright. "Ya piece of waste-eatin' slag! When Ah get outta
this, Ah swear ta Primus Ah'm gonna—"
The mech tutted and shook his helm, a grim smirk appearing on his scarred
mouthplates. "Now, now, my mech. That is no way to talk to your savior." He
noticed the way confusion flitted over the bound mech's face, and he frowned
and tilted his helm as if in genuine surprise. "You mean you do not know what I
mean? Why, my dear..."
Prowl was looming over the smaller mech, fanged dentia bared and wings raised
high above him. Jazz shuddered visibly as the killer moved to be uncomfortably
close, and he could feel the unnatural cold radiating off of the huge mech.
The Incarcerator grinned darkly at the unease that overcame his prey. "Oh, are
you scared? Do not worry, my pet." Those icy talons traced over sensitive audio
horns, making Jazz shudder once again and pull back, baring his dentia.
"We will be your savior. No—" He cut off and flared his armor, his open
manifolds releasing scalding air that made the white mech hiss. 
The killer moved with a dark efficiency, slamming into the Polyhexian with so
much force that the chair rattled and protested with a groan.
"I will be your savior. And do you know why?" The mech's talons were digging
dangerously deep into the hunter's armor, almost scraping the surface of the
infrastructure as his optics burned a hellish crimson. "By the end of our time
with you, you will be begging for your life. I will inflict so much pain onto
you that you will beg for Death's merciful hand."
He stood abruptly, flicking his wings out as he approached his subordinates. He
snarled something roughly, and with a groan the two mech untangled themselves,
covered in lubricant and transfluid.
The Incarcerator gave a demonic grin, rows of sharpened dentia bared in the
horrific action.
"Now, where should we start?"
Chapter End Notes
     Cliffhanger, I know. But with the way this story is planned out, most
     of the non-con stuff is in the next chapter. And the Jazz/Prowl
     stuff. :)
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     So I changed my writing style a bit in this chapter. There are
     descriptive parts describing what the Incarcerator, his brothers, and
     Thunderstrike did to Jazz. The weird parts are basically Jazz's mind
     protesting against what the Incarcerator and his team are doing. This
     is the second to last chapter, so Jazz will be rescued. But if it's
     in time...I'll leave that up to you to find out.
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Jazz arched and screamed as the blade pierced the metal flesh of his chest,
Energon gushing from the wound with a fervid and demented passion.
Prowl grinned above him, optics blazing with a demonic pleasure as he brought
the blade to his mouth and wrapped his unnaturally long and forked glossa
around it, lapping at the Energon with a pleasured moan. "Oh, my dear hunter.
You have no idea how delicious you taste."
The Polyhexian growled a retort, but it was hastily muffled as the blade was
pressed against his mouthplates.
A deep snarl escaped the larger mech as he glared furiously. "Speak one word
and I will carve out your glossa and feed it to you piece by piece.
Understand?"
Jazz bared his dentia, engine growling roughly as he glared but did nothing.
Prowl purred, optics flashing brightly as he fluttered his wings. "Good, my
pet. Soon, you will learn to follow my every order." 
He seemingly ignored the huff that the smaller mech gave as he turned to
inspect the various types and models of tools he had brought in. "Hmm. I wonder
what I should use next. Perhaps a scalpel, to peel off your armor, or a simple
dagger to shave away your audio horns?" He turned to face the Polyhexian once
again, crimson optics burning brightly. "What would you prefer?"
He turned to face the Polyhexian once again, crimson optics burning brightly.
"What would you prefer?"
===============================================================================
pain
nothing but pain
—he arched and screamed as the point—
cut through soft metal flesh
oh so easy. like cutting through a sparkling's flesh
stop it
stop it, stop it, stop it
I cannot...
...so much fun—
no, no, no
no, no, NO
fire, fire, fire
leave me alone
moan like a pleasure mech
moan like a buy mech
oh, yes
suck harder
harder
harder
get off of me
move away
—I can't—
===============================================================================
"It is almost time."
no
no, no, no
YES
"Why are you sad?"
leave me alone
"Fix it."
pain
pain, pain, pain
"Fix it."
he moaned and whined
shaking his helm
engine rumbling
distress
agony
acid fire
===============================================================================
"Oh, yes, brother. Keep doing that." A deep, gravelly moan came from behind the
largest Praxian, and Jazz was shocked to see that it was Smokescreen standing
there, with the lithe navy frame of his youngling brother Bluestreak standing
beside him. He had not heard nor sensed the two younger Praxians enter; he had
been too focused on what the mech looming over him had been doing. 
The Incarcerator grinned wildly, fanged dentia bared as he gave a dark laugh.
"Go ahead, brother. I know you want to."
Jazz was about to demand what was going on, but before he did Smokescreen
followed his brother's order. With a click, his interface panel snapped open,
and a pressurized spike extended, prefluid already forming at the tip. The
organ was long and thick, ribbed with crimson and white biolights.
Smokescreen locked gazes with the Polyhexian, and a dark, lust-filled smirk
appeared on his mouthplates before he moaned again. Trailing a servo down his
broad chassis suggestively, the assassin wrapped his digits around his spike,
pumping it viciously with the slick and wet sounds of his fluids being spread
around. His hips moved in time with his pumps, and a spurt of transfluid
escaped to splash against the floor. His other servo trailed down to his freely
hanging transfluid sac, fondling it as he continued to moan.
Behind him, Thunderstrike was gripping his own spike, crimson optics locked
onto Smokescreen's motions with a dangerous accuracy. His talons traced over
the weeping head, transfluid coating his digits as he moaned unabashedly at the
pleasure of self-servicing.
Jazz was torn from the obsidian mech's stare as Prowl dug his talons into his
raw wounds, making him arch and scream as the jagged edges were pulled apart
and torn even further. Above him, he heard the Incarcerator moan deeply, and
the mech's weight shifted. There was a brush of searing hot metal over his
thigh and then a trail of thick, sticky fluid was left behind. The Polyhexian
groaned and shook his helm with a moan of pain and risked a glance down. His
suspicions turned out to be true - Prowl was grinding his heated and soaked
valve against him, the parted folds gliding easily over the metal and leaving
thick and heady lubricant behind.
Smokescreen cried out suddenly, and through the corner of his peripheral vision
Jazz could see that Bluestreak was on his knees, his brother's spike buried
deep in his mouth as he sucked vigorously. Thunderstrike came over and buried
his faceplates between the obsidian mech's thighs, no doubt eating out his
valve, and Smokescreen gave another aroused cry as he forced his spike deeper
into his brother's mouth and squirted hot lubricant into Thunderstrike's
mouth. 
Prowl snarled, eyeing Jazz darkly. Weakly, Jazz protested, managing a swipe
with his talons that only made the larger grounder's engine roar heatedly, but
it was no use—the Incarcerator had a hand on the back of his helm and was
pulling him down until he was level with his pelvic region.
Lubricant was running in heavy, flowing streams down the Praxian's thighs. The
lips of his valve were spread, throbbing and soaked with lubricant and
transfluid.
The Incarcerator growled roughly, positioning himself over the smaller mech's
face. Smearing his fluids over the Polyhexian's face—the sheer amount nearly
had him choking—he gave a deep moan that turned into a husky laugh. "You know
what to do, hunter. Do as you are told, or I will have Blue eat your spike
piece by piece." 
With a muffled gasp, Jazz shook his helm as his visor blazed bright. Fanged
dentia lengthening, he sunk them deep into the valve above him. Prowl hissed in
pain, jerking and digging his talons deep into the hunter's wounds in
retaliation, huffing heavily at the cry of pain. The Energon began to flow from
the wounds, and to Jazz's disgusted shock the Praxian grinned down at him with
a dangerous fire in his now crimson optics. He slipped a digit into his open
valve, tracing his talons over the bleeding wounds with a dark moan.  
"Should not have done that." The Praxian was panting heavily, hips rolling into
his touches. "Only turns me on." He tilted his helm to stare down at the mech,
mouthplates stretched unnaturally wide in a terrible imitation of a grin.
Smokescreen groaned as he reached overload, and the audible sound of spurting
fluids filled the air, drowning out the similar cries of Bluestreak and
Thunderstrike.
The Incarcerator grinned roughly, digging his talons into the armor of his
restrained prey. His spike extended, long and ribbed and thick as it visibly
pulsed and spattered transfluid on the smaller mech.
"Now, we can really begin."
===============================================================================
fluids
everywhere
hot, scalding, dripping
disgusting
horrid stench
sticky
get it off
stop
stop
stop
moan.
moan for me like a whore
oh, Primus
harder.
harder.
faster.
oh, Primus
right there
more, more, more
harder
do it—
—right there—
oh, Primus
===============================================================================
A horrific snarl echoed throughout the room.
Crimson armor rippled and flared as engines roared.
"Where is he?"
"Sir, we can't—"
"—do not give me that excuse!"
Fear trembled and shook in the toxic air.
"—that's not what—"
Silence.
===============================================================================
"You dare to defy me?!"
He arched and screamed as the acid ate through his metal flesh, carving its
poisonous way deep into the Polyhexian's body.
"I will make you suffer." The monster was pacing and trembling violently, wings
flared dangerously high and optics a vicious shade of crimson.
"You will suffer, and scream and beg for mercy like the pitiful whore you are!"
Suddenly his head was pulled back, and with a roar the larger mech tore the
visor off with a sickening screech of metal tearing and Energon lines and
hyrdaulics being shredded to pieces. Then a syringe was held over his newly-
exposed optics. 
Jazz screamed and cried as the acid ate through the wiring of his optics.
===============================================================================
He was back again.
hello, my pet
no
leave me alone
'm not that...
yes you are
don't deny it.
hot scorching fluid.
oh, you feel so good.
no.
no I don't.
stop it
stop it
stop it
oh, Primus
yes—
—right there...
more, more, more..
do it.
harder.
won't hurt anymore...
just keep moving
keep talking
—oh, my dear—
no, no, no
it hurts
make it stop
please
don't want anymore
 I don't want it—
don't want—
—no more.
===============================================================================
"Progress."
A heavy vent. "Sir, I don't think—"
There was a thundering, enraged snarl. "—what?"
"—we can't find—"
"Keep looking."
===============================================================================
He came back.
Always comes back. 
—no, he will come back—
inevitable
Hiss as the door opens. 
Cringe away like a tamed beast in a cage.
The Incarcerator grinned roughly, spike already extended and dripping freely.
"Make it good."
Whore
I shivered as the fluid scalded my faceplates. He was always so hot.
Hot.
So hot and delicious.
What?
No.
No.
He isn't.
Not good.
so good
not
so
good
good
notgoodsogood
"Faster."
He moaned heavily. His tip was hitting the back of my throat.
Another mech came in. He started to frag my valve.
Yes. Please Master. Make him feel good.
What? No no no. Not Master. Bad. 
Bad mech. Bad mech.
Pleasure. Good pleasure.
"You feel so good, my dear pet."
He groaned again. Spike pulsing and squirting fluid as he neared his overload.
There was a long and heavy groan, and then bittersweet fluids were flooding my
intake. The mech below me groaned as well, and then his essence was filling my
torn and sore valve.
"Good pet."
Yes, yes, yes.
I am a good pet.
===============================================================================
"Sir, we have a reported sighting of Young One."
Bloodstorm immediately straightened, optics burning bright as he rose to his
pedes. "Where?"
"Near the docks of the Riskave port," the younger officer responded, turning to
face the towering mech. "Sir, I should not have to warn you that this is a
trap."
The triple changer growled deeply, tracing his talons over the large machine
gun in his servos. "No. You should not. Send a task force to the docks and one
with me. I am leaving now and I want that force there yesterday."
===============================================================================
What—
"Mmm."
Please him. 
All he wants.
Just...
"Harder."
A slam of a door.
Metal against metal.
Dark, aggressive snarling.
"Brother!"
What—?
He was moving faster. Almost incoherent. Scalding fluid. Hot, warm, burning.
"They're here."
He slipped out from me, tracing a talon over my newly acquired wounds.
No. 
Master.
Don't—
"I will see you soon, my pet."
===============================================================================
The sight was horrible. 
Energon and fluids covered the walls in large stains. Pieces of silver-white,
golden, black, and navy blue metal were scattered across the room, and a few
large and gruesome knives and daggers were spread out haphazardly, enough so
that Bloodstorm had to watch where he was stepping at every given moment.
/Sir./ The sniper Enforcer that was stationed across the street on the parallel
building's roof spoke in a hoarse rumble. /Southern corner of the complex. I'm
picking up an extremely faint life signal./
"Acknowledged." The triple changer motioned with a servo to the specialized
Enforcers and to his own team, heading down a darkened corridor with his multi-
purpose blaster raised in front of him.
The turbofox that was being held back by a leash by one of the specialized
Enforcers whined and barked suddenly, stopping in its tracks only to back away
with a whimper. Its caretaker grunted with the effort of keeping it still, but
his optics locked onto the nearest adjacent room as he nodded to the triple
changer.
Bloodstorm raised a servo to signal a countdown, and when he was finished he
kicked down the door and barged into the room.
The room stank of transfluid, lubricant, purged semi-processed Energon, and
spilled Energon. Metal was thrown in randomly discarded piles, and even more
piles of shredded armor were cast about.
A faint moan came from the center of the window-less room, and the Enforcers
all immediately fixed their weapons on the source. 
Amber optics widened as powerful engines roared. "Lower your weapons! Now!"
Bloodstorm did not bother waiting for them to follow the order as he sheathed
his gun and moved towards the bound mech at the center. 
A low snarl rumbled throughout his broad chassis, and he wordlessly comforted
the trembling Polyhexian. I swear to Primus I will kill all of them. "Relax,
Jazz. You will be okay. We're getting you out of here, and you'll be perfectly
fine."
Bloodstorm felt a servo on his shoulder panel, and then a soft and gentle voice
met his audio receptors. "Sir, I have to ask you to step aside so we can patch
up his wounds."
Jazz whined and struggled, visor flashing blindly as he registered the
disappearance of his partner—that enormous, impossibly strong source of warmth
and protection. He moaned incoherent words as he began to vent heavily, sending
waves of scalding air throughout the room.
The triple changer hushed the injured saboteur, fixing his amber gaze on the
medic. "I am riding with him."
"I have no objections to that." The emergency response mech shrugged, a gesture
that would have been nonchalant if he had not been shaking. "Ironcross, get
over here! I need an Energon drip, multiple sheets of metal of varying
thickness, and welders, immediately!"
"Do not worry, my love," Bloodstorm held the mangled servo of his partner in
his own, gently caressing the singed and torn metal in an effort to comfort the
blinded mech. "You will be perfectly fine."
I pray to Primus that it isn't a lie.
Chapter End Notes
     The next chapter posted will be the last. Jazz is recovering from his
     torture, and his teammates are attempting to help him along the way.
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