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Prisoner of Desire	By : bigbadvillian Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 3855 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers Animated or any faction of HasTak, and make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prisoner of Desire
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Chapter Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Chapter Elelven
- 12-Chapter Twelve
- 2
- 3
- 4
Three
“WHERE IS HE?! WHERE WHERE WHERE?!”
Sari was screaming, crying and hitting Optimus’ leg as she sobbed for Prowl. She loved him the most among the Autobots, the way she loved her father, but while she would never let them know that, she never missed a chance to show her deep love for him. Optimus sighed and reached down to pick her up. He wanted to console her and make her eyes stop leaking, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing it. It was spark-wrenching to see the little girl so distressed.
Sari, we’re looking. I’ve called Ultra Magnus and his crew—Jazz nearly had a spark attack. We’re doing all we can to find him.”
“First my dad, now Prowl? Why does everyone I love go missing?!” She threw her little arms around Optimus’ thumb and sobbed loudly into it. Optimus sighed and let her cry, ignoring the possibility his thumb might rust.
“Autobots,” he said, turning to face what was left of his mismatched crew, “Let’s review the facts. Prowl’s room showed few signs of a struggle, but there were still clues.”
“I saw claw marks on his tree,” added Bumblebee, “Do you think he was kidnapped by the Dinobots?”
“Naw,” interjected Bulkhead, “The Dinobots like him. Plus, I’m sure we would have heard them lumbering about in there. It’s a big room, but it’s not that big.”
“Bulkhead’s right,” sighed Ratchet, who was rubbing his old war wound, “My arm is actin’ up again. I think Lockdown might be the culprit of this one.” Sari sniffed and wiped her nose.
“Who—who’s Lockdown?” she asked, her innocent eyes looking over at the medic. He released a deep, heavy sigh, as though he had dreaded this moment like a human parent dreaded ‘the talk’. He answered somewhat reluctantly, as though the truth might harm the little girl,
“Sari, remember when you and Bumblebee were off at your little theme park?” She nodded, rubbing her nose again, “And we told you that Prowl had been injured? The truth is he wasn’t physically hurt. He was…sick.” Sari opened her mouth and tried to find some kind of explanation, some way to make sense of what she was being told.
“Well, being hurt and being sick is kinda the same—“Ratchet cut her off.
“Sari, Prowl was sick in the way that a human gets sick when they take too many drugs. He became addicted to mods, like a human can become addicted to alcohol or pills. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” Sari stared at him, surprise written on her little face. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
“My dad says that only bad people do drugs. Prowl isn’t a bad person.”
“No, he isn’t. But good people can become addicted, and Prowl is one of them. It was my fault at first, seeing as I lent him my EMP generator to help the Dinobots. But it got to his head, much like a human drug. He went looking for trouble on the moon, and he found StarScream there. Lockdown was there too.”
“But who is Lockdown?” Sari asked again, starting to become impatient. Ratchet shook his head and said,
“Lockdown is a bounty hunter from Cybertron. He’s as old as me, and he’s the reason my chevron is damaged. He stole my EMP during the war, too. He’s an evil, disgusting creature. He collects trophies from his victims, like weapons and the like. He’s huge, Sari. He’s a tough one to take down. While Prowl was on the moon with StarScream, apparently he ran into Lockdown and boarded his ship. Lockdown gave him some mods and fed his new-found addiction.”
“Yeah,” added Bulkhead, “And after we were done with the Decepticons, Lockdown called Prowl and tried to get him to leave us. Prowl said no, obviously, but I think that made Lockdown mad. He probably took Prowl for some crazy reason, maybe to hurt him for turning down his offer.”
Sari slumped to her knees on Prime’s hand, trembling as the thought of her friend being tortured and possibly killed by this Lockdown character. She was scared—it really was like losing her father all over again, and she refused to sit around and do nothing.
“We’re gonna find him,” she said out loud, more for herself than anyone else, “we’re gonna find him and bring him home. Alive. And we’ll take down this Lockdown jerk.”
“Sari,” Optimus Prime finally stepped back into the conversation, “We don’t know where Lockdown’s ship is. For all we know, he’s off the Earth by n—“
“NO!” she screamed, jumping back to her feet and giving his hand a firm stamp, “We’re gonna find him! They’re still here, they have to be! I can find them with my key! We—“
“Sari, STOP,” said Ratchet. “We need time to devise a plan. We can’t just rush in there without knowing what to do.”
“But we do that all the time!” argued Sari. Ratchet shook his head.
“Sari, we call that improvising. This time we know what we’re up against, and Lockdown is smart. He knows we’re gonna go lookin’ for him, and he’s gonna pull out all the stops to keep us away. When he wants something, he usually gets it and keeps it. We need to attack this situation with caution and planning. You can be assured Ultra Magnus is on it—Jazz is Prowl’s sparkmate, he won’t let Magnus have a break until something is planned.”
Optimus knelt down and placed Sari back on the floor. She rubbed her eyes again, then said,
“I wanna be alone. I’ll be in my room.” She walked off, and no one stopped her. Ratchet sighed once again, then said heavily,
“She’s a good girl; I’ve never seen her so concerned for one of our kind before. She must really love that stubborn ninjabot. Prime, we should contact Magnus again; he might have a plan or some kind of lead as to the whereabouts of our bounty hunting friend.” Optimus nodded.
“You’re right, Ratchet. I’ll call him right now and see what he has to say.” The group broke up, Bulkhead to go check on Sari (he was very worried she would run off to find Prowl herself), Bumblebee to assist Prime, and Ratchet to his med bay to prepare for the worst, if it ever came.
Just before Optimus called Magnus, his own communicator went off. He didn’t recognize the frequency, so he pushed Bumblebee down and told him to stay hidden. Then, taking in a huge cycle of air, took the call.
“Hi there kiddo,” Lockdown’s ugly mug took up the entire screen, “How’s it goin’?”
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“Don’t do this,” Prowl pleaded, trying to not sound as terrified as he really was. Lockdown threw the visor to the floor, out of both of their reaches. His strong fingers trailed down the ninja’s sleek side, resting on his hip and applying the slightest bit of pressure. Prowl attempted to kick the bounty hunter away, but it only fired Lockdown up. He leaned in, his eerie white face almost glowing under the dark lights hanging above them.
He was getting too close for comfort, and Prowl used the only weapon he had left—his head. He bashed it into Lockdown’s face, forcing the larger mech to let go and stumble backwards. He howled, covering an injured optic and applying pressure to avoid losing too much energon. Prowl grinned at his small victory, glad he still had some kind of advantage, albeit a tiny one. It didn’t stop the fact that Lockdown would try again and be a bit more controlling, but it was worth seeing the bounty hunter cringing and swearing up a storm.
“Slaggin’—stupid little fragger!” he roared. “You’ll pay for that, Prowl!” He left the room to tend to his newly acquired injuries. Once out of earshot, Prowl assumed, he tried to break free of the organic bonds. They continued to tighten on his wrists and ankles, which was odd for something organic based to do. Lockdown must have modified them and made them techno-organic bonds. It sounded like something the crazy old mech would do.
“STOP STRUGGLING, YOU IDIOT!” Lockdown shouted down the hall, “YOU CAN’T BREAK FREE FROM THOSE!” He sounded furious, and it actually struck some amount of fear into Prowl’s spark to hear such anger in one person’s vocals. It was disturbing. Prowl waited silently, hanging from the wall like a common piece of art. He hated dangling there, unable to break free or move. Instead, he decided to give his surroundings a good, hard look, just in case he got a chance to escape.
The room he was in was unrecognizable—he’d never been here before. There were more empty techno-organic chains hanging from the walls, and a few empty, cold steel berths encrusted with the energon of past victims. This was a brig, Prowl realized. A very old, primitive brig. Just how old was Lockdown?
As though on cue, Lockdown returned, his optic covered in a splatter of glowing pink energon, not unlike putty. He grinned a predatory grin and said in a low growl,
“This is how my people treat wounds. None of that ‘trained medic’ garbage. We studied the old ways, and it works just fine. Now, what to do with you…? I could—“
“How old are you?” Prowl blurted out, hoping to buy himself some time before the inevitable happened. Lockdown’s smile slid right off his face and was replaced by one Pit of a grimace. Prowl refused to show he was regretting his very poor choice of words. Lockdown however, instead of striking his new toy, sidled towards Prowl and forced his head upwards with his hook.
“How old do you think I am?” Lockdown whispered dangerously into Prowl’s audio; his voice was low, deep and seething with held back rage. It was incredibly rude on Cybertron to ask someone their age, even more rude than it was on Earth. Prowl opened his mouth to answer, hoping the number that left his lips was a flattering one.
“Eight—eighty-nine thousand?” Lockdown continued to glare at Prowl, who involuntarily shuddered. He was envisioning his slow, horrible death when Lockdown suddenly let go and stepped in front of him.
“Smart kid,” he said, “I wish I was eighty-nine thousand. You are to never ask me about my age again, got it?” Prowl dropped his head, knowing what was coming.
“Yes, Lockdown.”
“Master.” Prowl looked up at the giant mech with a mix of confusion and reluctant understanding.
“What?”
“You are to call me “Master’ from now on. You got that, youngling?”
“Oh Primus…” Prowl begged, “Lockdown, don’t do this. Please, I—“
“Mute it, Prowl. I always get what I want, even if I have to argue with it for hours. But I’m not arguing with you. I have you right where I want you, and you’re going to obey me. I don’t want to harm you, but I will if you start an argument. Is that clear, kid?” Prowl’s mouth moved, desperately trying to find the words to express his disgust and anger, but Lockdown had other plans.
Leaning in, Lockdown cupped Prowl’s chin and pulled him closer to capture the ninja’s lips in a rough kiss. It was the worst kiss Prowl had ever experienced—he had been spoiled by Jazz’s warm, gentle lips, his soft way of kissing his love as though Prowl were made of glass.
Lockdown pressed against Prowl like he was indestructible, and boy, did it hurt. His hands dug into sensitive wiring, teasing and tugging at the most sensitive wires. Prowl tried to thrash and pull away from the bastard, but it was to no avail.
He was trapped with this monster.
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Prisoner of Desire