Devilish • Jazz x Prowl

Torn

"This is your idea?"

Jazz rolled his optics. "I didn't ask for your opinion." He grumbled, firing a quick glare at one of his henchmen who had laughed. "But yes, it is. Y'know what's more fun than torturing someone? Beating the absolute Pits out of them."

"Right, and I'm supposed to just let it happen?" Prowl huffed.

"It's not like you can do much else, given that your servos are tied behind your back." Jazz snickered, crossing his arms over his chest. "You can try to fight back, but I don't think you'll get very far."

"C'mon, boss! Kick that copper's ass already!" One of the mechs behind Jazz jeered, already eager for his turn.

Prowl grit his denta together and took a slight step back to steady himself. As much as he hated to admit it, Jazz was right. His main means of defense were currently cuffed behind his back. All he had to defend himself was his head and his pedes, both of which were nearly useless to him. He was more likely to injure himself further by trying to use them.

His processor ran through dozens of possible strategies, but none seemed plausible in this situation. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he just had to dodge as many attacks as he could in order to limit any injuries he may sustain.

That was easier said than done, though.

His optics picked up movement in front of him and he quickly sidestepped, careful not to lose his balance as a shot from Jazz's blaster narrowly missed him. A streak of white paint on his chestplate bubbled under the heat of the plasma.

"Wake up, Prowler!" Jazz taunted, tossing his blaster aside and raising his fists. "The fight's about to begin!"

"It's not really a fight if only one contender can defend themselves, is it?" Prowl retorted. His optics followed the saboteur as he tried to predict his next move. He knew how Jazz liked to fight, but that knowledge would only get him so far.

"It may not be a proper fight, but it's the kinda fight that I enjoy the most."

Jazz began slowly walking to the right, a smirk plastered across his face. Prowl responded by moving to the right as well to keep his distance. The air was taut with excitement and suspense as they circled each other, waiting for someone to make a move.

In a burst of speed, Jazz lunged at Prowl, but the attack was only a bluff. Instead of landing an actual hit, he slipped behind Prowl and gave him a playful jab between his doorwings. Prowl spun around in order to get Jazz back in his line of sight and was immediately met with a punch to the face that made him stagger.

"Ya make it so easy, Prowl!" Jazz exclaimed, his laughter filling the room.

Prowl spat energon from his mouth. "Not on purpose, I assure you." He muttered, wincing at the soreness that flared up in his shoulder joints.

Just keep moving.

The next time Jazz lunged, Prowl backpedaled to keep him from slipping behind him again. Jazz only laughed and tried to jab at his face again, but Prowl managed to duck under his fist. There was an opening to retaliate and Prowl took it. He charged forward, driving his shoulder into Jazz's chest to knock him off balance.

Jazz let out a yelp of surprise and stumbled backwards. Once he gathered himself, he smiled and chuckled softly.

"So ya wanna play that way, huh?"

"What? Did you really expect me to—hnngh!" Prowl's voice cut out mid-sentence as Jazz drove his knee straight into his midsection. He sank to his knees, unable to do much more than gasp for air.