Note: First there was Axioms, which was Prowl's say. It was followed by Jazz's take on things in Paradoxes. Now, we have Isomorphisms, which tells Lockdown's side of the story and completes this little trilogy within my Light series.

.o

Isomorphisms

.o

"Where has my heart gone?
An uneven trade for the real world.
Oh I, I want to go back to
believing in everything and knowing nothing at all."

-- Evanescence, "Field of Innocence."

.o

Metal met grinding wheel in a shower of sparks and vibrations. Lockdown dimmed his optics so they wouldn't be dazzled by the glow. Then he held up the scuffed edge of a black and gold pauldron, examining it before setting it in the metal crate where he hid his incomplete projects. Most of the mods he'd collected over the years required grinding and retooling in order to fit.

Lockdown straightened and swiped his hook over the seam in his helm. It was just a metal piece wrapping around the sides and back of his head, and the simple action dislodged it so he could remove it. Light from the monitor on his right shone clean through the vicious holes marring where his audio units once existed. He never looked in the mirror to repair his oscillators--because seeing his reflection meant facing what made him a failure in the eyes of society.

Of course, squashing those feelings was as easy. He'd just look at all his trophies, take a breath and tell himself they equaled success.

Still, parts needed to be maintained. Lockdown hated having holes in his head, but his oscillators wouldn't vibrate properly unless they had a hollow space. He tightened the screw causing him feedback, slapped his helm back on and gazed once more at the armor he was working on.

The first model made Prowl look fantastic. Seeing him tear viciously into Starscream filled Lockdown with a lust he hadn't felt in eons. Prowl had a monster hidden in his Spark, one that liked the taste of mods, and Lockdown longed to see that ruthlessness again.

Sometimes, Lockdown fantasized himself slamming Prowl into the wall and wrapping his mouth around whatever port or jack presented itself to him. He always had an oral fixation. And seeing Prowl writhe while covered in fantastic armor, well...Lockdown entertained that image quite often. Prowl, wearing as many mods as his body could hold while squirming in ecstasy. He'd look great with red optics--much better than the blue ones he surely hid behind that stupid visor.

Lockdown took a deep breath when he remembered winning Prowl over wouldn't be that easy. Prowl had optics for someone else. Lockdown discovered that when he'd planted an Allspark fragment deep in an underground cavern with the hopes of drawing Prowl out.

Instead, during his stakeout, he saw Prowl show up with that other ninja. Not just another ninja, but a high ranking officer in the Elite Guard. He had to watch that other ninja put his disgusting hands all over Prowl. Lockdown was so angry that he abandoned his mission the moment he saw them kiss.

Now he was back with a new plan: fake Prowl's death, take off with him and leave the bots on Earth to sort out the mess. Hatching this one took some time and patience. Lockdown spent many weeks disguising his ship as a blimp and flying over Detroit, tracking the routes Prowl and the other ninja took throughout the city. They often passed an older building marked for destruction.

Bingo.

Lockdown loved motion activated bombs. Great for setting traps, diversions and random mayhem. They wouldn't hurt a Cybertronian, but they trashed anything else in the area. And they had the benefit of an EMP pulse upon detonation. Any bot within a fifty foot radius would reboot.

Lockdown landed in an empty lot a block away and erected a hologram that made the space appear under construction. Less suspicious than a sudden, new building, something two astute ninjas like Prowl and his boyfriend would easily notice.

He'd scarcely planted the bombs when Prowl and Jazz drove up. They both transformed right next to the target building, arguing heatedly about something involving activation dates.

Oh, this would be good.

Lockdown transformed into vehicle mode and drove backwards out of the EMP zone. All he needed to do now was wait.

The blast went exactly as planned. The bang shook the ground and shuddered across his chassis.

Showtime.

In all the ensuing smoke and chaos, nobody noticed the muscle car slipping into the area. Lockdown transformed, standing over the two bodies lying in the dusty rubble. Prowl was flat on his back with the other ninja sprawled out on top of him. Lockdown rolled the white mech aside with his foot. The smoke started to thin. He hefted Prowl over his shoulder and dropped a smoke bomb to cover his retreat. His ship took off automatically the second the airlock closed.

Prowl barely weighed anything. Lockdown wasn't too gentle when he dropped him on his back on the table. He felt the vibration of the thud in his feet.

"Look at you. So perfect." Lockdown said to the unconscious mech. He caressed Prowl's cheek with his hook, its sharp point drawing a line up to the visor mod Prowl wore so proudly. "Heh, maybe I'll just take this off so I can really see your--"

Except when the visor popped off, Lockdown saw how there were no optics. Shocked, he yanked the surgical light down and twisted Prowl's head violently to either side. He had to be sure his own eyes weren't playing tricks.

They weren't. Prowl had no eyeballs--no sockets, no slits, no glass, nothing. He was definitely a gestalt of the mech lying on a table in a museum of "interesting" flaws back on Cybertron. Deformities like Prowl's occurred very early during the protoforming process. The malfunction was big enough to land in history records. No one noticed the assembly machinery wasn't working properly that day. Records said four or five other mechs emerged eyeless--Lockdown couldn't recall the exact number at the moment.

It was too ironic. The mech Lockdown looked upon as perfect was flawed. For a split second he felt a wave of pity that Prowl's attractive face was spoiled by such a hideous disfigurement, but he quickly squashed the feeling away. Prowl understood the plight of flawed mechs, which meant Lockdown could reveal his own flaw without fear of being turned in.

"And here, I thought I was alone. Heh, heh, oh, Prowl, you're just full of surprises, aren't ya?" Lockdown leaned over and swirled his tongue across the spaces where Prowl's optics should have been. His cyber-mesh skin tasted delicious, just like the fear he knew the blind ninja lived in every second of his life. Terror like that was the perfect leverage. After all, Prowl couldn't possibly manage without his visor. He clearly relied on oscillators, but how they worked meant studying the visor more closely, and if he had to cut Prowl's head open to examine the oscillators themselves--Lockdown figured that wouldn't cause too much damage. Maybe a few marks and scars would improve him. Plus, if Prowl was helpless without his visor, he'd depend on Lockdown for literally everything. What fortune!

Of course, how would Prowl react if Lockdown offered him sight? It wouldn't look too pretty. Artificial optics were temporary, and only meant for mechs who lost both eyes in battle, but Lockdown was sure he could rig them to last permanently. Surely Prowl would be grateful to be made perfect.

Then Lockdown knew he'd have to undo all the slag Yoketron planted in Prowl's processors. That Primus-loving ninja master never seemed to realize the god he looked up to didn't care about flawed mechs.

Lockdown grinned to himself. Breaking Prowl's beliefs would be fun. He dumped the unconscious ninja in an empty storage closet, ripped out the control panel and locked the door. Then he grabbed the visor and a microscope mod he stole a long time ago. It'd be awhile before Prowl woke up, and Lockdown had some studying to do.

.o

Eons ago, before he knew sounds and language existed, he woke up in an abandoned alley to a mech wearing a fantastic black and gold helm. In those days, he was simply a black and green bot with a clean, white face. No spikes, no mods and, especially, no voice.

Yoketron was tiny, unassuming and carrying an oil canister when he passed quietly through the alley. Lockdown--though he had no name then--was hungry. At one day old, uneducated and unable to communicate, violence was the only way he knew how to meet his basic needs. Being tall meant he could use his size to take down smaller mechs who passed by and steal their rations.

He'd attacked Yoketron, and the ninja master had thrown him down in a single, smooth motion. Hence why he woke up to see him leaning over.

Yoketron turned out to be a flaw sympathizer. Back then, Lockdown hid his disfigurement by stuffing his head into a piece of cloth with eyeholes ripped out. All it took was Yoketron yanking the mask off before the truth became clear. His expression changed, he offered Lockdown the oil he was carrying and covered his head with his black and gold helm before he led him back to his home.

Lockdown liked that helmet. He liked how the mechs who saw him wearing it were afraid to come near. It upset him when Yoketron gestured for him to give it back later. He'd done so only because he didn't want his free oil supply to stop.

Yoketron molded the smaller, simpler helm that covered Lockdown's missing audios. Then he uploaded the entire Cybertronian language directly into his central processors. What a strange day that was, the realization that the marks on data pads and the movements of mouths had a meaning. In less than a stellar cycle, Lockdown could read lips enough to guess what people were saying.

He even got his name that way. Its seed fell on an afternoon where he'd ripped the lock off the outer door to Yoketron's home. Somehow, he'd gotten it into his head that it would look better attached to his chest than on the door. A warning chop banged into the back of his head. He whirled to face Yoketron.

Calmly, Yoketron pronounced each word, "Put the lock down."

Every day, without fail, that lock went missing. He was very young, not yet a calculating, cunning bot. Stealing the lock was a means of control, of having something of his own to amuse him. Yoketron's reprimands went from "put the lock down" to simply, "lock down."

The words became a small joke at first. Yoketron would pat his back and say them in rapid succession. So much that Lockdown started pointing to himself whenever his master uttered them where he could see it.

"You know," Yoketron spoke after the fifth straight week of this, "I'll simply call you Lockdown from now on. Let that be your name when you introduce yourself to others. Do you like it?"

Lockdown nodded eagerly. Yes, moving his mouth to form those words did feel interesting.

But it wasn't until Yoketron placed his hand against his throat and spoke that he understood the vibrations meant "sound." All this time he'd spent "talking" with just his lips--and how Yoketron always looked amused by it--suddenly made sense.

Of course, getting his voice and mouth to work together took some practice. Language was something given after protoforming was complete and the mech checked out as healthy. He'd only understood the red X on his record because another bot with the same mark on his chart was killed right in front of him. Thusly, speech didn't come naturally to him. He worked for hours in front of a mirror, moving his lips and holding his throat to feel his own voice. Looking back on it, he often wondered if he drove his master crazy with all his grunting and growling.

It was a great day when he met Yoketron's eyes and said, clearly, "Good morning."

Yoketron was so proud of him. "And now you're ready."

Then his battle training began.

Lockdown had nothing, so they began together with nothing...but Lockdown didn't find much satisfaction in it. Making "wax on, wax off" gestures to clean windows got tedious after the first cycle. Mopping floors grew boring even faster. All that hocus pocus Yoketron said about prayer and reverence for Primus left him confused. He prayed endlessly for working audios. When no answer came, he wondered why he bothered worshipping a god that didn't care. Or maybe he was the one Primus didn't love. Because he was flawed.

Feeling abandoned by his own god, Lockdown continued to train. His martial arts suffered. No matter how perfectly he executed a move, something was always missing.

"I don't understand, Master." Lockdown leaned against the mop he'd come to hate. "With nothing, I'm nothing."

"It's the cyber ninja that matters, not the weapon," Yoketron had said. That was his stock answer any time Lockdown brought up the subject. "Until you learn that, your fighting skills will remain on a plateau."

Lockdown angrily went back to mopping.

Many stellar cycles later, Yoketron showed him the room he was meant to protect. He placed his hand around his master's throat and felt the vibration of his voice. Then he watched in amazement when the doors opened. He saw the thousands of protoform bodies protected within. Each one looked exactly the same, yet the touch of a Spark would complete the process. Sparks themselves were perfect, but flaws occurred whenever a protoformed body wasn't assembled properly, something in the environment went wrong during the insertion of the Spark or--in Lockdown's case--something interrupted the process as the body was forming into a living mech. Rarely, very rarely, flaws happened shortly after the body fully formed.

Lockdown wondered how many of those mechs were flawed. They'd all been molded in a hurry.

After a tour of the room, Yoketron asked Lockdown to close the doors.

"Relax. Focus. Believe."

Yet Lockdown couldn't do it. No matter how deeply he relaxed, no matter how loud he hummed and no matter how he tried to believe Primus moved within him, the doors didn't budge.

In his mind that meant he'd been right all along--Primus didn't care.

Yoketron finally closed the doors himself. Then he turned and smiled, ever patient and gentle.

And one day, Lockdown would spit all over it.

Yoketron suggested the optics quest twice, but Lockdown's fear held him back. One slip and everyone would know he concealed a flaw beneath his helm. If he had weapons, if he had a means to look terrifying, then the people he feared would fear him! Yet that old exhaust box insisted he remain with nothing!

So Lockdown went on the quest.

He never returned.

Instead, he bumped into a warlord known as Megatron, and his life as he knew it changed.

Of course, in order to work with Megatron, he had to submit himself to a full physical exam to make sure he wasn't hiding any bombs in his body. His flaw came to light. Megatron wasn't too pleased with this discovery, but Lockdown swore he could do the job.

"You had better see to it that you never betray me. You may find yourself in a death camp."

The threat was enough.

Two stellar cycles after that day, Lockdown led a small army of Decepticons to Yoketron's house. The old ninja was painfully outnumbered. He still fought valiantly, Lockdown had to admit it, and the worst moment of his life was seeing the utter disappointment in his former master's eyes.

Yoketron had been the first to offer kindness. He didn't have to feed him that day so long ago. At the same time he was Lockdown's main source of frustration. He never had the answers. He always told Lockdown to find them for himself, but how could anyone find anything when they didn't know where to look, what to look for and never got answers from the god they prayed to?

"Lockdown," Yoketron's face had the same frowning expression it always had when Lockdown stole the lock off his front entrance, "You were the closest I ever had to a Sparkling. I gave you my love, my knowledge." And the mild anguish in his eyes became pure hurt, "Why this betrayal?"

"Because," Lockdown replied. He'd never forget that look in Yoketron's eyes. "I found my answers, and they weren't with Primus."

"Oh, Lockdown...please, don't do this."

For a moment, Lockdown almost couldn't. But he had a job to do. Nothing else mattered.

Starscream and Lugnut held Yoketron between them while Lockdown beat him senseless. Then Lockdown ripped the helm he loved off his former master's head, tore off his armor and left him there.

"Protoforms are in the back."

When it was over, he'd sank to his knees outside and vomited the cheap oil he drank before leading the attack. He knew Yoketron wouldn't survive his injuries. And turning on the only person to show him kindness...it hurt a lot at first.

Then Megatron met him again and offered him his payment--two small black boxes. One contained vibration sensors for his legs. The other held oscillators that he used to replace his missing audios. They were simple and primitive, but they worked.

Lockdown drank in the new modifications like a drug. For the first time in his life he had something. A something that made sense.

It got easier when he received his first ship and started taking down bots between jobs. Grabbing their personal modifications for himself filled in the empty gap where Primus used be. Why should a deaf mech pray to an equally deaf god, Lockdown often asked himself. Besides, Megatron paid awesomely with oscillator upgrades and spare parts. Lockdown hoped one day to grab the first artificial audios on the market. So far, their perfection eluded him as much as Primus always did.

But that was all right with Lockdown. The people he once feared now feared him. As long as he kept Megatron quiet, he doubted anybody would ever suspect he was anything less than perfect.

.o

Lockdown realized he'd taken the visor apart and put it back together exactly as he found it at least twenty times. The sensors inside seemed to transform light waves into vibrations, but he couldn't be sure unless he saw it working. Beyond that, his processors hadn't absorbed any of what he saw--he'd been too lost in his own memories. He hated thinking about Yoketron. That bot taught him how to talk and fight, and that was it. Feeling guilty about betraying him to get what he wanted out of life just wasted his time.

Vibrations rippled up his legs. He got up to peep into the hallway, where he saw Prowl sticking his head out of the storage closet door.

Now how'd he get that open? Lockdown wondered.

Prowl's dark head turned suddenly towards the control room. He placed his hand on the wall and started into the corridor. Lockdown couldn't believe his eyes. Didn't Prowl worry about running into things?

Lockdown slid out into the hall, trailing Prowl at twenty paces. He knew exactly where to step without making noise. More vibrations raced up his legs as Prowl tripped over the coiled chain lying at the very end of the corridor. Watching him stumble and hug the wall almost made Lockdown laugh. Even without eyes, his slack-jawed terror was obvious. Prowl leaned his head back, clenched his jaw and shook like a helpless, frightened creature facing its own destruction. He had no idea Lockdown was barely two body-lengths away, watching him.

Prowl thrust himself away from the wall and into the harsh lights illuminating the main control room. There, he stopped just a mere step away from smashing into the metal tables. It was like he knew they were there, somehow. He stretched his left hand out to just touch the foot of one table. Suddenly, he ran--he ran!--straight ahead until his outstretched hands crashed into the shelves.

Lockdown crept up to the doorway, amused and awed by Prowl's behavior. Prowl ran his hands over a replica of the black and green chest piece Lockdown currently wore. Lockdown sneered, envying the armor. Then Prowl shoved the plating away, destroying the illusion of a caress. His movements grew more distraught. He stopped trying to be quiet and began pushing items carelessly aside. The ninja looked so pathetic--head tilted back, mouth open, hands sweeping desperately about and banging into things like a person lost in the dark.

Keep feelin' around there, Prowl. Lockdown smirked to himself. Tremors rattled his oscillators left and right whenever Prowl knocked something over. You won't find your visor.

Prowl climbed onto the crate in which Lockdown kept the armor he'd been working on and ran his hands over everything on the top shelf. He hopped down and handled everything on the middle shelf again. His hands shook violently.

Would he still act that way if he knew he was being watched?

Time to put the poor ninja out of his misery.

Lockdown crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe. "Looking for something?"

Prowl whirled towards his voice. The movement seemed to make him dizzy, and he stumbled backwards against the shelves so forcefully they rocked from the impact. He wiped the fear off his face.

"My visor. Where is it?"

"I have it," Lockdown replied coolly, which made Prowl's mouth drop slightly. "Oh, don't look so horrified. I won't break it." He took a step closer, enjoying how the harsh overhead light danced over the smaller ninja's dark body. "Heh, heh...oscillator technology that translates light waves into vibrations. That's nice. I've gotta hand it to ya, Prowl, the way you hide being flawed is airtight."

His gaze drifted to the crate of armor--an incomplete replica of the mods he lent to Prowl before. He'd been planning on wearing it to impress Prowl into joining him. Now, he realized how useless the prospect was. What good would dazzling armor do for a mech who couldn't even see it? It'd be like Prowl trying to woo him by singing.

"What's your point?" Prowl straightened, looking calmer. With his face in the light it was easy to read his lips. "Are you turning me in?"

Lockdown coughed out a laugh, pretending the question offended him. "Why would I do that?"

Prowl turned his head towards the computer console. If he figured out how to hotwire a door lock...

Lockdown snorted to himself and walked over, locking the computer with a password just in case Prowl tried to alter their course or send out a distress call to that other ninja.

"By the way," he decided to tell him, "We're in orbit around Earth, so don't think about abandoning ship. You won't survive re-entry. I've locked the controls. Don't try anything funny--I'll find out about it."

Prowl grabbed the shelf behind him and hung his head, apparently defeated. Then his fists closed and he looked up again, his lips pinched in a way that gave the impression of frowning. "Why am I here. What do you want?"

"To talk."

"That's it?" He seemed incredulous.

Lockdown tip-toed to stand beside the tables in the middle of the room. This move brought him a few feet closer to Prowl. He noticed Prowl's head turning, following the motion in an eerie mockery of sight.

"If I wanted more, you'd be missing more than your visor by now."

Like the virginity you ninjas always save up for that someone special...

"I told you never to contact me again!" Prowl's expression twisted. "When I get out of here, I'll turn you into the Elite--"

"Aw, Prowl, c'mon." Lockdown had to laugh at the way Prowl's lack of eyes stole all the impact of his anger. Maybe his voice carried the heat his face lacked? Lockdown wouldn't know. "Bots like us need to stick together! You'd make a fortune as a bounty hunter. We could split what we get. Fifty-fifty, or--"

Prowl gripped the shelves again and bared his teeth in an amusing display. Did he look like that while having his brains plugged out?

"I'm nothing like you!" Then he thrust out his hand, "Now, return my visor, please."

"Nope." Lockdown grinned, drifting back over to the computer console. Let's see what you'll do about it, Prowl. You can't see me. You don't have any idea where I--

Prowl charged! Lockdown was so shocked that he barely spun out of his path. He chopped the back of Prowl's neck, using his momentum against him to smash him into the floor. That was gutsy. It scared Lockdown a little. Where did Prowl get his courage?

"You've got some spark plugs to charge at what you can't see." Lockdown spat and rolled Prowl over with his foot. "Get comfortable. You aren't getting your visor back until you hear me out."

Snarling, Prowl twisted Lockdown's leg. Lockdown's own weight dragged him down, and he laid there in shock as Prowl sat on his stomach and searched his body with his hands. For a moment Lockdown imagined Prowl impaled on his jack, writhing in overload. Prowl's fingers finally found his face. When they touched his mouth, Lockdown dug deeply into his own will power to not suck on them until the paint peeled. Then Prowl's touch moved on, up his cheeks to his optics and back down again. Each pass trailed fire and hyper-awareness. Lockdown gripped the floor. Oh, the torture...did that pretty mech even know what his hands were doing to him?

"Give me my visor," Prowl clenched his teeth. He found Lockdown's throat spikes, and Lockdown reeled at the feedback when Prowl used them as handles to yank his head up so their noses almost touched. "I said--"

In pain, his mind screaming, Lockdown hurled Prowl into the tables behind him. Then he sat up, clutching his head. Oh, that hurt. The arousal he felt earlier lay in ruins amidst the feedback rattling his oscillators. He turned angrily towards Prowl. The ninja lay like a discarded toy sprawled across both tables.

Lockdown entertained the idea of tying Prowl down and attaching his visor to rainbow strobe lights. That'd teach him. But no, first, he had to talk sense into his thick processor.

"You're more like me than you think," Lockdown snarled. He tip-toed towards his trophy case and shoved a flame thrower securely back on its shelf. Some of his anger cooled when he glanced to where Prowl sat motionless on the table. The ninja's dark, eyeless visage had grown strangely normal as time went on. Still, the way he turned his head to follow sounds was uncanny.

Lockdown advanced again on Prowl, grabbed his chin with his hook and forced his head back. "I'm going to let you cool down now. If you're calm when I come back, we'll talk. Try anything funny..." He transformed his hand into the menacing chainsaw--the first mod he ever stole off another mech--and spun the blades right next to Prowl's audio. The way Prowl jolted was too funny for words!

Of course, only an idiot wouldn't cringe when a chainsaw started rumbling in the dark. Lockdown idly wondered who had the worst flaw. He could at least see danger coming at him. His feet had always been sensitive to vibrations, so even with his oscillators offline, he usually knew when to turn around and face whoever tried to catch him from behind. Prowl didn't have that luxury. If someone snuck up on him...even with footsteps acting as a targeting guide...how did he defend himself? Would he dare throw his shurikens? How did he know where to punch, or kick?

Most of all, did Yoketron know Prowl was blind?

Prowl's lips moved, and Lockdown almost missed it. His voice felt like a ripple that flowed smoothly across the inside of his helm. "Why go to all this trouble just to talk to me?"

Lockdown replied, "You blocked my com frequency. Had to get your attention somehow."

Prowl jerked his head up, sneering. "Jazz will come looking for me."

So that was the other ninja's name. Lockdown doubted he'd remember it for long. He was always horrible at names and faces unless he had a real reason to keep them in his memory.

"Jazz?" Lockdown repeated the name. Huh, interesting. Then he turned his head and spotted the faint scratches on Prowl's chest. He couldn't believe he never noticed them before. Prowl was bonded to that other ninja! Recently! Lockdown's energon lines boiled and he barely quelled the urge to smash his fist through the nearest wall. He wanted to be the first person to see Prowl's Spark, and he might have if he'd stuck to his earlier plan in the caves. Despite his anger, he forced his voice to stay neutral. "Oh, the other ninja. Congratulations on the bonding. We should toast to it."

Prowl cocked his head. "How did you--"

"Scratches, naturally."

He almost laughed at Prowl's hands flying up to touch the very scratches being discussed. The hard expression on Prowl's face melted briefly into a smile that faded in a Spark-beat.

"Should we toast to it?" Lockdown hedged. It was make a joke of the situation or rip Prowl's head off.

"No," Prowl sneered at him. "I thought you were leaving me to calm down."

Stealthily, Lockdown freed a canister of coolant and two drinking containers from a compartment in the wall. He set them down an arm's length from Prowl. If Prowl heard him pouring their drinks, he didn't make it obvious. He simply inched away, using body language to display his desire to be left alone.

Lockdown figured he'd let him calm down and then come clean about his own flaw. Maybe Prowl's mind would change if he knew.

"Okay, whatever." Lockdown caught himself gesturing to the table. He sighed. A lot of good that did! "There's a case of coolant on the table next to you. See you in a bit."

Then he left Prowl there.

.o

The time alone gave Lockdown's mind room to think. He grabbed Prowl's visor, studying the reflection of his red optics as they glimmered across its azure glass. How many times did he peer at it and think he held Prowl's gaze?

Then again, how many times did Prowl call his name and think he'd been heard? It was laughable.

They were kindred spirits--there was no denying it. Prowl's flaw only drove the point home in Lockdown's mind. What else did they have in common? Lockdown smirked, remembering how ruthless Prowl became while wearing his mods. Deep down, he harbored an anger so cold it was cruel not to unleash it. He'd be a great bounty hunter--graceful and efficient. After a few bounties, and after he got his hands on the payments, upgrades and more mods, the guilt would fade. Who needed Primus when they had something tangible to make them a better mech?

Lockdown leaned back and polished the visor until it shone like a mirror. He liked how he looked in Prowl's "eyes."

But, as they always did, doubts crept in. What if he couldn't convince Prowl that he'd live a longer life out in space, away from non-flawed mechs? He could kill him, it'd be so easy to just put him out of his pathetic misery. A flawed mech who tried to be a non-flaw was no better than a non-flaw.

Lockdown sighed and gazed again at the visor, which glistened eerily like eyes. His reflection hadn't changed. He growled. Why did Prowl insist on pretending to be something he wasn't? Lockdown never ran his oscillators unless he was out in public. But Prowl--he couldn't see. And judging by how crazy he acted earlier, his visor had to be active all the time or he risked being discovered. Oscillator technology didn't replace eyes any more than it did ears. It was just a work-around that let a flawed mech pass as normal.

Did that other ninja know? What if he didn't? Lockdown chuckled at the prospect of emotional ruin. Prowl pretending to be a non-flaw and plugging an Elite Guard member. Oh, the shame it would bring if the truth slipped out. What would that other ninja think? What if a photo accidentally got into that other ninja's computer, and Prowl had to leave Earth to save his own chassis? He'd have no one else to run to.

Grinning at his plans, Lockdown stuffed a holo-scanner into the compartment in his right arm and closed the panel. It was a spy camera. Prowl wouldn't even notice his image being scanned.

Lockdown made some noise on purpose as he walked down the corridor. He hugged the wall and opened the door, cautious in case Prowl attempted a surprise attack. Instead, Prowl sat exactly where Lockdown left him, his statuesque form absolutely still under the harsh overhead lights. One drinking container was empty except for a filmy ring of coolant clinging to the bottom.

Now Lockdown decided to be sneaky. He knew how to move without generating unnecessary vibrations in his servomechanisms, a trick he used well when he stealthily crept forward and sat directly across from Prowl. They were barely an arm's length apart. So close he could smell the sweet wax Prowl used. He started to extend his hand, and--

Prowl's head jerked in his direction. "Back so soon?"

"Eh?" Lockdown pulled his arm back, startled by the movement. He was sure he'd been perfectly quiet! "How'd you--"

"You changed the air flow."

Lockdown had no idea what Prowl meant by that. He whistled a bit in amusement and sat back, enjoying how he could freely stare without Prowl's knowledge. He remembered the holo-scanner and took a few pictures of Prowl's face and body. Did he have a jack? Nah, he had a small pelvis, usually mechs built that way had ports. The question then shifted--what kind of port did Prowl have? Long, elegant and deep, or short, wide and shallow? Finding out would be fun.

"So..." Prowl faced him, which spread his legs and gave Lockdown a great photo of his crotch. And he had no idea! "Going to let me go?"

Lockdown sighed and put the holo-scanner away. "Are you going to shut up and let me talk?"

"Why?"

"We're kindred spirits, Prowl."

Prowl's lips curled, but once again his lack of eyes destroyed any emotional power the expression might have had. "I fell under the spell of your mods once. Don't expect me to repeat that mistake."

"That's not what I meant." Lockdown frowned at him. He didn't want to go through this old speech again. "We have something in common."

That took some wind out of Prowl. He leaned back, lips twisting aside in thought. It was amusing to see him look lost and unsure of himself for once.

He started out, "We're both loners--"

Close, but no rust stick. Lockdown gestured for him to keep talking. He remembered how useless the action was and ran his hand angrily over the top of his head. "Yeah..."

"And?"

"One more thing."

Prowl clenched his fists in obvious exasperation. It was funny, seeing him so afraid. What? Did he think someone would appear on the view screen and spot his malfunction? Ha! Lockdown's viewer never came up unless he commanded it to deliver the message.

He'd let Prowl stew a bit over that.

Then he realized he was also stalling. Revealing his flaw--he hadn't done so in eons. Could he trust Prowl? Truly? What if Prowl's hidden ruthlessness was fueled by revenge?

"You think you're so special because you're flawed." Lockdown sneered, "You go parading around, saying you'll turn me in to the Elite Guard. Now, how would you feel if you learned later that you weeded out another flawed mech?" He tapped his hook on the table next to Prowl's knees. "You, with your morals about letting the flawed live."

No reaction. At least, not one he could see.

Lockdown poured himself some coolant while he waited for Prowl's response. None came. Prowl just sat there, his face blank under the harsh lights.

"Prowl," Lockdown swirled the drink in his hand, "you're the most observant guy I know. I thought you would've figured it out yourself by now." He eyed him. "Were you paying any attention to my ship?"

"I--" Prowl started, then stopped. Lockdown saw him turning the question over in his mind. He fingered a wedge-shaped gouge in the edge of the table. Suddenly, a light bulb seemed to go off under his helm. He lifted his head, mouth slightly dropped in shock, "You can't hear."

Guess you have a brain after all.

"Yup. Deaf as a post." Lockdown rolled his coolant glass between his fingers without spilling it. "I lost my audios to an acid spill while I was being protoformed--" and oh, how it hurt-- "Medics couldn't fix it. So you use oscillators for eyes and I use 'em for ears--they synthesize speech to text and tell me what kind of sounds are happening around me." Well, they usually did when he had them fully activated. Most of the time, he only used the speech to text around mechs who wore mouth plates. Came in handy while making business deals and getting info about potential bounty targets. "I can sense a pin drop, organic heartbeats...I'm pretty hard to sneak up on. And my throat spikes are my sensors, same as your visor."

And the rest of his spikes were just there to make his throat sensors less obvious, but he didn't need to tell Prowl that. He was sure the ninja would figure it out on his own.

But the response...

"So what?"

Lockdown smirked. Time to play his cards.

"Don't you get sick of living in fear?"

Prowl rocked back, indignant. "I don't--"

"You liar."

At that, Prowl sighed. "Jazz knows and he doesn't care."

That name again. It was like a toothache he kept forgetting about until he bit down on a rust stick. Chomp. And wait, what? He didn't care? An Elite Guard soldier was a flaw sympathizer? Lockdown felt his own jaw drop, and he was glad Prowl couldn't see the shocked look on his face. He collected himself, cursing mentally. There went his plans with the holo-scans.

Primus, you really are a cruel bastard of a god. He thought bitterly. For what seemed like the trillionth time, he felt horribly alone in the presence of another. Except this hurt...and things like this weren't supposed to hurt. Not for him!

"Jazz is one in a billion," Lockdown curled his lip and cooled his glossa with a long drink of coolant. "The rest of the world is just out there, waiting to pounce on bots like us. You're the first living flawed mech I've seen since the war. Of course, if you still want to turn me in..." He forced his voice softer, trying the reverse psychology approach, "...there's nothing I can do once you leave my ship."

He kept his eyes fixed on Prowl, studying his response. Prowl didn't budge. Okay, sympathy wasn't working. Perhaps a little seduction was in order?

"So," Lockdown licked his lips, "How faithful are you to your bond?"

Prowl bristled as if the question set his aft on fire. "I will not touch anyone else."

Oh, playing hard to get. That's real cute, Prowl.

"Be real about this, Prowl." Lockdown leaned closer, so close his hips were between Prowl's knees, and it felt like standing inches from a fire capable of melting steel. They could kiss if Prowl allowed it. His lips were right there, so warm, vulnerable and inviting. Lockdown's mind roiled in the heat. He was too close to the blaze and knew it, but he didn't care. "How much do you love him?"

He started to close the last distance.

The table shook as Prowl pulled away, placing a hand between himself and Lockdown's face. The flame that he was retreated, taking the heat with it. "With all that I am," he curled his mouth in a sneer, his entire form vibrating. "Back off, Lockdown."

Then he hugged himself with one arm, resting his other hand in his lap. Doing so made him seem even smaller than he was. And what? Did he really think 'no' wasn't good enough? Lockdown was many things, but a rapist wasn't one of them. Some acts were too distasteful even for him.

Defeated, and angry that he'd been shut out so easily, Lockdown backed away from Prowl's personal space. "Relax," he sighed, mourning the conflagration he couldn't be a part of. "I know 'no' when I see it."

For a moment neither said a word. Prowl tried to shrink further away and Lockdown contemplated the sharpness of his hook. This rejection--it hurt. It hurt almost as bad as the disappointment in Yoketron's eyes all those millennia ago. He could give Prowl any possession he desired and take him anywhere in the universe he wanted to go...Lockdown wondered what that other ninja offered to win Prowl's Spark so easily.

I don't get you, Prowl. This other ninja you're aft over Spark for has nothing to offer you. I have everything--a ship, mods, money...and he only has himself. Lockdown clenched his teeth and wiped his hook on the table behind him to remove an imagined smudge. Then he smirked to himself. I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. I always do.

"Why are you telling me this, Lockdown?" Prowl's face remained unreadable. "Why risk revealing that you're flawed?"

Lockdown snorted and got to his feet. "Because I thought you'd be more willing to hear me out if you knew," He said as he sat down beside Prowl, wanting to once more feel the flame he'd become. His intention was to creep closer and closer, but Prowl scooted away as if he read his mind.

Burned again.

"So," Lockdown finished off his drink. Sudden curiosity struck him. Maybe he could lure the ninja off his guard and change his mind. "How far blind are you? Just missing your eyes?"

Prowl inclined his head, his eyeless visage zeroing in on Lockdown's voice. If he had optics, he'd be making perfect eye contact. How did he do that? "No eyes, no visual processors. I have absolutely no way to detect light the way you can." His mouth tilted in an almost-smile, "You?"

Lockdown rubbed the back of his own head. "Melted all the way through. Can't hear a thing. I'm lucky to be alive." He stared at the spaces where Prowl's eyes should have been. "Had a medic attempt surgery to fix it--" even though the attempt was pathetic at best, and done without the luxury of anesthesia. Lockdown couldn't remember if he'd screamed or not. He could only recall agony, himself squirming and having wires ripped clean out of his bleeding head. "He saw there was nothing left and I saw the big, red X stamped on my data pad. That X is death. So I ran. The Decepticons took me in, gave me the upgrades to let me function normally and I keep them quiet about my ears by bounty hunting." He completely left out anything involving Yoketron. Those memories were too painful, plus he wasn't ready to reveal he had ninja training to Prowl just yet. "They don't care as long as I deliver. I learned to like the job." He grinned, "If I was a real slagger, I'd turn you in if you refused to come along with me. But I'm not. I go by the same morals you do, so that's why I'm asking. It's your choice."

"I can't leave Jazz." Prowl's lips set in a resolute pout. No way he'd budge on the issue, but Lockdown had to keep trying. Prowl had a chink in his armor somewhere. It just needed to be found and exploited until he caved.

"Don't you think it's ironic that you're fucking a member of the very faction capable of euthanizing you over your flaw?"

"You have no idea," A strange smile twitched Prowl's mouth. "You don't even know our story. Being in love is--"

"Bah!" Lockdown did not want to sit and watch Prowl sweet-talk about his ninja boyfriend. His temper rising yet again, he crushed the glass he'd been drinking from and flung it as hard as he could, watching it bounce off the wall in the corner. The next painful words leapt off his tongue almost before he realized he was saying them. "You're a freak that got lucky. You don't know what ugly is until you've seen my face."

"I wouldn't win any beauty contests either without my visor."

Yeah, you would...

"Someone who really feels for you won't care about how you look. Jazz..." Prowl rubbed the side of his neck and the brief smile he flashed was different somehow, "he kisses where my eyes should be. He kisses the ugliest part of me and calls it beautiful." Then he turned to Lockdown, "Maybe if you found the right person--"

"Maybe I like looking ugly." Lockdown smirked, hoping the raw disappointment didn't show in his voice. Prowl's guard was down. Time to switch tactics again. "And, Prowl, you loved having those other mods. Artificial audios aren't quite on the market yet, but I could give you working eyes. Some wiring, some processor attachments, and--"

Prowl folded his hands in his lap and shook his head, "No."

Did he even think about it?

"Why not?" Lockdown was incredulous. He slid off the table and stared. "You'd improve yourself."

Prowl turned his head, following Lockdown's movements. "My flaw is part of who I am. It's shaped how I live, how I fight. Take it away and everything would change."

You glitch-head! Lockdown roared mentally, You're so blind! You haven't seen what I've seen! You never WILL! People like us are marked for death wherever we go, and running is the only way to stay alive! You moron! To sit still is to die!

"You live in shame," Lockdown's face contorted with ire. How dare Prowl display such ignorance! "I saw how scared you were when I walked in here. You almost dumped your sludge all over my trophies at the very idea that I'd seen behind the visor."

At that, Prowl twisted his mouth sternly to one side. The expression didn't look very attractive on his disfigured face. "So do you." He slid to stand, his jaw tense and his body stiff. "You hide under your mods, your big ship and your title as bounty hunter. You're so afraid Megatron will talk that you go around, hurting people and stealing their personal modifications to show off your battle prowess. 'Look at what I can do.' your actions say. You tell me I live in shame when you can't stop adding parts you don't need. True," he held out one hand, gesturing at nothing in particular, "I experienced the rush of new parts improving my audios and physical strength. And in doing so, I hurt the same organic creatures I try to protect. I got careless. I got reckless. Worst of all, I got arrogant. It's not worth it."

Every word Prowl said fueled the burning flame in the pit of Lockdown's Spark. Prowl didn't know what he was talking about! He was young enough to be Lockdown's own Sparkling--he'd never been around the worst of the war. He'd never talk this way if he existed when the flawed were thrown together into death camps and melted alive. He never witnessed a pulsing Spark pulled from its chamber while the mech it belonged to begged for his life.

It was perfection or death.

He got in Prowl's face and described the horrors he'd seen. They were terrible enough to make his optics mist over in sheer sympathy for those poor souls and the fear of meeting that same fate. His words made Prowl cringe and squirm, but he didn't care. Maybe the hideous truth of it all would wake him up, convince him to leave the other ninja and choose a life he'd get to really live. And when he was done, when he was sure he'd bombarded Prowl enough, he leaned back and asked, "So, still gonna pass on the eyes?"

A long pause stretched time and space between them.

Then Prowl shook his head. He spoke as if verbalizing a thought mid-sentence. "Then I pity you, Lockdown."

Lockdown's energon boiled. He almost tore Prowl's head off his shoulders right then and there. "I don't want your pity!"

"It's not because you're deaf."

"Tch, then what?"

"It's what you let it do to you." Prowl straightened, one hand sliding sensually along the table behind him. Everything he touched became an object to envy. "Maybe you can't fully grasp the sound of a bird singing or rain beating on a window, but you still have your other senses. You can still observe the colors of a nebula or the majesty of a sunset. You don't need to hear to enjoy those."

Another boring speech? Lockdown rolled his eyes and tuned it out. "I've got a question, Prowl."

"Okay."

"Is everything black to you?"

That made Prowl face him and grin, "Is everything silent to you?"

Lockdown blinked at him. The question was more difficult than he thought. He never heard a sound from which he could compare to its absence, and therefore he had no concept of silence. His world was just a whole lot of nothing and vibrations.

"I wouldn't know." He finally said, "Never heard silence."

But Prowl--he'd never seen black, so how would he know what black was? Now it made sense!

"Ahhh..." He laughed and shook a finger at Prowl. "I see what you're getting at."

"Good. Now." Prowl thrust out his hand, "Return my visor, please. I don't feel comfortable without it."

Just as Lockdown wouldn't feel very comfortable without his helm in place. Perhaps he'd been approaching Prowl all wrong after all.

"Point taken." He reached over and laid Prowl's visor carefully across his palm. Prowl closed his fist, reflexively, and his grasp briefly trapped Lockdown's fingertips. For just a moment temptation itself scorched the air around them. Prowl relaxed his grip enough to shake Lockdown's hand off. He brushed his fingers over the visor before he snapped it into place on the pins in his nose, and suddenly his frailty melted away.

Lockdown shifted closer to the main computer console and stared deeply into the visor. His reflection peered back, its red eyes a little sadder than before. With his visor in place, Prowl looked so perfect. Was that what that other ninja--his name was Jazz, wasn't it?--was that what he saw? A perfect imperfection?

"I think Jazz sees the same thing in you that I do," Lockdown sighed, letting his own emotions slip out for the briefest of Spark-beats. He longed to make Prowl scream in ecstasy and forget all about those loser Autobots. "He's a lucky guy."

"I like to think I'm the lucky one," Prowl grinned at him. Though his visor didn't fully replace his missing optics, it still seemed to convey emotions like a pair of sighted eyes. In it, Lockdown no longer saw himself--and once again he mourned.

Prowl only had "eyes" for that other ninja.

Not yet defeated, Lockdown advanced again. Prowl's reactions would determine his next set of tactics. Something within him said this battle was lost long ago, yet he refused to consider himself thwarted.

"What's he like in the recharge room?" Lockdown grinned.

Prowl's jaw dropped. He collected himself and leaned away, his mouth a tight line. "I won't answer that."

Snickering, Lockdown pressed on, "Bet'cha he's a screamer."

Prowl was squirming where he stood! "Is it really your business?"

"You probably are, too." And I still wouldn't mind making you scream, Prowl...

"Why do you want to know?" Prowl sneered at him, his distaste so obvious another blind mech could've seen it.

Lockdown shrugged. "Curiosity, I guess. You're so quiet. Can't help but wonder if you have a wild side hiding under all that armor."

At that, Prowl rubbed the side of his own neck and his free hand drifted almost sensually over the scratches in his chest. A maddening, unintentional tease that cemented Lockdown's own fantasies. Prowl had to be wild during sex. Nobody could contain a monster forever. He cleared his throat and Prowl snapped out of his reverie, clearly embarrassed.

"Okay, okay," Lockdown grinned, enjoying Prowl's discomfort, "I'll ask a non-sex question."

"Huh?"

"What made you tell your secret to a non-flaw?"

Prowl stilled, his armor glistening in the blue light of the computer screen. Earth's reflection danced over his visor, but he couldn't see it. He never would.

"I-I don't know. I just felt I could trust him. When I first came to consciousness, I was in a compactor about to snap shut around me. I screamed. Someone pulled me out and made a move to shut me down. I told him not to. The person let me go." And he smiled, "That scrap yard worker was Jazz. Neither of us realized this until Jazz brought up the memory. He's my dream mech and I'd go through my life again and again if it meant I'd meet him. Jazz saved me."

Lockdown had to walk silently away for a moment and press his burning forehead into the cool metal wall. He'd never win Prowl. Nothing he did, short of arranging for Jazz to die in a horrible accident, would break them up. The realization closed around his mind like a steel trap. There was no love...only lust. Lust unfinished, unfulfilled, destined to fester forever in his Spark.

How did Prowl survive when his god didn't even care about flawed mechs? Or did Primus only pick and choose who he loved, and cast away the rest? Lockdown looked up through his disillusionment and wondered, for the millionth time, why.

Prowl's continued refusal kindled a new, more bitter fire. In Lockdown's mind, his unwillingness to listen made him no better than a non-flaw. An imperfection pretending to be perfect--how disgusting!

Emboldened now, he turned around, dragging his hook along the computer console as he invaded Prowl's personal space once more. "Heh, heh...ain't that sweet," he said mockingly. "What do you plan to do if someone rats you out? The law says Jazz is dead for bonding with a flawed freak like you."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." Prowl sneered at Lockdown. He backed away a step, his hand resting on the keypad. One of the buttons glowed red when his thumb accidentally pressed it, but he didn't notice. "Why do you keep asking me these questions? When are you taking me home?"

Lockdown grabbed the controls, typed in the password and sent the ship into a nosedive. The stillness of space gave way to vibrations when they hit Earth's upper atmosphere. Fire danced over the hull, and Prowl's armor shone blacker in the orange light from the view screen.

If Prowl wanted to be an idiot, fine. From now on, Lockdown wasn't doing him any more favors. Live or die, Prowl was on his own.

Flames stopped licking around the ship. Lockdown could smell the heat on the walls and feel it in his feet. He glanced at the screen to see forestry. They were a few miles from the warehouse where Prowl's team kept their base of operations.

Perfect.

"Well, guess you aren't going to budge on this issue. You'd be safer hanging with me, buuuut I'm not so much a jerk to break up your nice little fairy tale." He faced Prowl and narrowed his optics. Suddenly, the ninja's attractive shape and the imperfection his visor concealed dug into a painful sector of his memory banks. "So, before you go, here's a little message for how stupid you're being."

"What do--"

Lockdown slugged Prowl square in the face. He aimed at his mouth so he wouldn't break the visor. Reeling from the impact, Prowl staggered backward and grasped the edge of the airlock door. Lockdown took a last look at him, trying to see what first enraptured him, but his eyes only beheld a desire he'd never satisfy.

That's it, then. He tried to convince himself, You're just as stupid as Yoketron, Prowl. I could've given you anything. I would've given you anything. Hmph, have a nice life.

Lockdown leapt back and pulled the emergency release lever on the ceiling. The door behind Prowl whipped open and the low pressure sucked him right out of the airlock. His body flipped end over end and disappeared into the forest canopy.

Closing the door again, Lockdown cloaked his ship and landed less than a mile from Prowl's location. A quick scan of the nearby trees let him construct a hologram of more forestry. Then, devoid of emotion, he transformed and drove to where he saw Prowl fall.

The ninja looked utterly pathetic and broken. He was lying facedown in his own vomit. Every so often, he twitched like a startled dreamer, and his fingers dug furrows in the brown soil.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Lockdown stood over Prowl, crossing his arms. He convinced himself that he felt no sympathy or remorse. "It's nothing compared to what you put me through, Prowl. Have a nice life. Someday, the wrong person is gonna see your flaw, and that'll be it for you and your little love story. Do the flawed a favor and don't beg for mercy. You won't find any."

Prowl moaned and grabbed Lockdown's foot. Lockdown sneered, kicking the hand away. He swept his toes through the dirt to conceal his footprints and hopped onto the grass. The side of the path dropped off into a hill leading towards a river.

Lockdown gazed up at the sparkles of sunlight flickering in the trees and sweeping brilliant spots over Prowl's helpless form. He'd dumped him in the forest on purpose. His goal wasn't to kill him, but to inflict the maximum pain. If his flaw came out that way? Oh, well.

Turning away from the carnage he wrought, Lockdown climbed over the hillside and dropped onto his belly. The holo-emitter he carried on his body flickered on in the form of a boulder lying by the path.

And there, he waited.

.o

Millions of years ago, he caught a system virus that nearly halted his digestive process. Viruses ran rampant as random transmissions in the air, and any normal mech was usually immune thanks to firewalls given shortly after protoforming. As a flaw, Lockdown never underwent the procedure. Most of the viruses he caught were mere annoyances that made him twitch for days, or caused his optics to lose color vision until his own software built up an immunity.

But this virus...his systems were struggling to remove the random data, yet in doing so it played havoc on his body. The pain alone equated that of the "surgery" he underwent the day of his birth. It literally felt like being cut open. He tried to train all day, he tried to eat the oil soup his master provided for dinner, but the sight of nutrition made him heave and he gestured quickly that he wanted to be excused.

His paroxysms carried on long into the night. He tried so hard to maintain a brave face.

He should've known he couldn't hide anything from Yoketron.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Lockdown felt the twitch of his door opening and stilled, trying to appear as if nothing was wrong. Yoketron's white form passed through shadows to reach his berth-side.

"Show me where it hurts," Yoketron said. His face was so kind, so gentle, he truly cared. And his voice...it was the only voice Lockdown could physically feel in such close proximity because it was so low. He believed that voice carried incredible power, and hoped his own would one day sound just like it.

Lockdown hadn't mastered speech yet, but he could read lips perfectly. He gestured vaguely at his midsection. Moving made the pain worse. For a moment he nearly shed tears from it and only his willpower kept his optics dry.

"Can you show me exactly where the pain is?"

Lockdown could not.

Yoketron patted his arm and met his gaze. "It is all right, Lockdown. I'll find it."

Then he extended his hands out over Lockdown's abdominal area, but didn't touch it. His optics were closed, his fingers stiff. He traced a line across Lockdown's torso until his fingers suddenly curled downwards exactly above the place Lockdown felt the most pain. His optics flew open and he looked down again, his expression soft and sympathetic.

"I see...oh, my, you poor thing. It must be agony. Lie still, I will remove the pain."

How did he know?

Suddenly, Yoketron clapped his hands together as if in prayer, rubbed his palms against each other and stretched his arms out once more over where Lockdown's belly ached the worst. Lockdown felt Yoketron's voice thrumming above him.

At first, there was just a strange warmth spreading through his torso. His body relaxed naturally into it. The warm sensation concentrated exactly where he ached and it was as if something within him slowly uncoiled. Like a knotted fist opening.

The pain disappeared!

How did he do that?

Yoketron drew back, brought his hands together again and reached for a bowl of steaming white liquid. It smelled horrible, like spoiled, soured flux left too long in the sun. "Drink this. It will keep the pain from returning."

Lockdown did without question. The bitter fluid burned his tongue and pooled heat in his fuel tank. He looked at his master, confused, and approximated the size of a data chip with his fingers. The little he'd seen of medics in his first days taught him a simple download cured everything.

And Yoketron seemed amused by this. He stroked the top of Lockdown's head and guided him to lie down again. "Technology isn't necessary for every little virus. You are strong enough to get well without injecting software into your processor. By morning, your body will have cured itself. Now, recharge and let your own heuristics do their work." He kissed Lockdown's forehead, picked up the bowl and slipped out the way he came.

Lockdown lay there, confused by Yoketron's answer. Why suffer all night when a chip could end it in a moment?

.o

Because, it seemed, downloads didn't cure everything. Especially not the regret and lust clogging up his processors. Prowl was so achingly similar to Yoketron, and Yoketron was the first person Lockdown could ever say he loved in his lifetime--if he could call the constant desire to return to him after he left "love."

Prowl was too much like Yoketron, Lockdown realized. Right down to his disappointing disregard for mods and glory.

Would it ever end?

Vibrations tingled across his body. Lying on the ground meant his entire chassis could "hear" anything approaching along the dirt path. The frequency told Lockdown it was a medium-sized vehicle approaching fast. He fortified his hologram, hunkered down and waited.

The red and blue fire engine nearly spun out in a cloud of dust before it transformed into Optimus Prime. Lockdown only recognized him because he once stole his axe and grapplers. Pity he couldn't keep them--they were awesome mods.

Optimus called Prowl's name several times. When that didn't get a meaningful response, he knelt to roll him over. Lockdown literally saw Prowl scream in apparent agony.

Even better, his visor was knocked askew by his fall, and it fell off in Optimus' hands. The look on the Prime's face--Lockdown didn't miss the flinch of shock that flickered in his eyes like a passing shadow. Optimus held the visor in one hand while he rearranged Prowl to lie flat.

"Prowl..." His lips moved to say. He rubbed his thumb over the left side of Prowl's brow, right where an optic should have been.

Prowl's head lolled a few times. It appeared as though he tried to speak, but his mouth filled up with coolant. Optimus pushed Prowl's head to the side and the ninja vomited again into the dirt. At the same time, Prowl's hand shot up and collided with Optimus' face. His fingers clung and crawled like the eight legged organic moving along a twig near Lockdown's left hand. Prowl's other arm shot straight out into nothingness, reaching, groping.

Where's your god now, Prowl? Where--

Another engine of a different frequency zoomed over the path. Lockdown got a face full of dirt when a white sports car halted mere feet from his hologram and transformed.

It was that other ninja. What was his name? Jazz? Yeah, it was Jazz.

He arrived just in time to see Optimus pushing Prowl's visor back onto his face.

"Prowl, if you can hear me, I won't tell anyone." Optimus bent closer to the crumpled black form, "You hear me? I won't tell."

Ah, slag, the one time I don't want a sympathizer, I get two! Lockdown cursed silently. If he'd known this was how it'd go down, he would've just killed Prowl and tossed him into Earth's ocean and been done with it all!

Now, Lockdown had to lay there on his stomach, watching while Jazz knelt and rubbed Prowl's chest. He avoided looking at Jazz's mouth because he didn't care to see what he said. Whatever it was, it calmed Prowl down enough that his wriggling ceased. Prowl grabbed Jazz's face, touching his features as he did Optimus' a few minutes previous.

Jazz and Optimus proceeded to talk. Lockdown still didn't bother reading their lips--except when Optimus turned his head and Lockdown caught one sentence:

"Love favors the lucky, doesn't it?"

There isn't love. Only lust.

The scene got real good after that.

Jazz tried to cradle Prowl in his arms. Prowl's lower back bent unnaturally upwards and he screamed in utter agony, his limbs flailing like live wires. Optimus and Jazz both flinched. If it sounded as horrid as it looked, Lockdown was glad, for once, that he couldn't hear.

Optimus steadied Jazz and helped Prowl lay down again. They talked some more--and once again Lockdown didn't bother reading their lips until Jazz started to look seriously concerned.

"He's not stable. What's Ratchet's ETA?"

Lockdown couldn't see Optimus' reply since he faced away now, but whatever he said upset the white ninja bot.

"We don't have that long!"

And Optimus shook his head. His shoulders sagged.

Suddenly, Jazz's hands went to Prowl's chest. He parted the armor and Lockdown's optics shone with the reflection of Prowl's pulsing Spark. So white, so pure...and forever out of his reach.

"If you're a prude," Jazz said to Optimus, "I really do apologize if this embarrasses you. I've got to keep him stable."

That idiot wasn't going to--

--he did.

Jazz put himself through torture for his bond--for his flawed bond who was potentially the death of them both. Spark to Spark regulation, from what he remembered, was a dangerous practice. If one Spark went out, it would pull the other right along with it and kill both mechs.

A third engine made the road shiver under Lockdown's belly. The medic--the one he once stole an EMP generator from--joined the scene and hooked Prowl up to life support. The white ninja bot could barely sit up. Words were exchanged between Jazz, the medic and Optimus Prime, and then they loaded Prowl into the back of the medic's vehicle mode.

Lockdown stayed hunkered until the sunlight gleaming on their vehicle modes vanished in the distance.

Good riddance.

.o

Day melted into night. Lockdown slept. Day broke again. Lockdown moved about his ship, cleaning up all evidence of Prowl's presence. As the afternoon drifted towards evening, he finally went outside. He sat alone on the bank of Lake Erie, where the vibration of waves crashing to shore sent ripples through his legs. Various colorful birds circled overhead, their beaks opening and closing. A glorious sunset turned the sky orange and the thickening clouds deep red, but the figure sitting there paid no attention to it. Slightly warm air wafted off the glistening water. Everything smelled like wet earth and grass.

A conversation still haunted him:

"It's what you've let it do to you. Maybe you can't fully grasp the sound of a bird singing or rain beating on a window, but you still have your other senses. You can still observe the colors of a nebula or the majesty of a sunset. You don't need to hear to enjoy those."

What Prowl didn't know was how much Lockdown enjoyed looking at him. He'd openly stared at the small, svelte black and gold ninja who was molded to perfection...all except for his missing optics. Prowl's parts matched. He moved like a dancer when he fought. He was music for the eyes.

And that damned, no-good Elite Guard ninja had him.

Lockdown's eyes did not register the deepening colors on the western horizon. He sat perfectly still, letting the wind brush against his painted cheek.

A light brown mourning dove perched on one of his shoulder spikes. Its throat puffed out and faint trembles raced through its body. The song it sang went unheard. It would always go unheard, just like his feelings.

Movement in the corner of his eye. He was glad to be inside the holographic field created by his ship--whoever was here wouldn't spot him moping by the lakeside.

Two figures darted over the riverbank and toppled across a fallen log. Lockdown zoomed in on them. Prowl spread out over the log while Jazz lined up their ports. Then their sparks illuminated the deepening evening glow. Their joining produced a miniature supernova. From there it was just their hands moving, lips touching lips and Prowl's heels silhouetted against the lake. Ravenous...their love was ravenous.

Sneering, Lockdown stealthily brought his hand up to his shoulder and captured the dove in his fist. The tiny, soft creature writhed and wriggled. Its miniscule heart throbbed in terror. Such flawless beauty, and its voice was lost on him.

Jazz's lips moved as he jerked in overload and Prowl lovingly stroked his cheek. Suddenly, Prowl tensed. He went from a calm, demure creature to a sexually vicious animal from another world. It was like he held himself under tight control just so his inner beast could burst free at the height of sexual ecstasy.

That day, Lockdown learned the pitch and decibel levels of Prowl's moans...but he would never hear them.

Prowl and Jazz didn't linger long. Within moments they were up again, walking with their arm around each others' waists. They made their way towards a curl of smoke rising over the trees. Ah...so they were camping out under the stars together.

Lockdown crushed the struggling bird. Its death created a wet, satisfying pop. His heart would've felt exactly the same...if he had one. He wiped the bloody mess on the grass, got up and walked deeper into the hologram disguising his ship as forestry. Before stepping in, the bounty hunter turned to glance at the sunset and found it marred by distant storm clouds. The wind changed directions, going from warm to bitterly cold.

"Story of my life," Lockdown scowled as lightning lit the horizon. He narrowed his eyes when the first raindrop fell on his brow. It rolled over his optic and down his cheek like a tear. He poked his glossa out and licked it off the corner of his mouth. How curious...the rainfall on this planet wasn't acidic at all. It was just water.

At first, Lockdown wanted nothing to do with the rain. It overwhelmed his oscillators and gave him headaches, so its presence was just one more excuse to keep them turned off. He hurried inside to play back the recording he'd just taken--because then he could zoom in on the footage until the white ninja nearly vanished from the picture. There was only Prowl's face twisting and clenching in overload.

Even then, Lockdown envied him. He didn't touch himself while watching the video. He just...couldn't. His own orgasms never offered the same freedom Prowl found in the arms of his bond mate.

So it's sex he can offer. Bah! Is that really all? I can grab any whore I want off the Cybertronian streets and I still don't look like THAT when I... He gritted his teeth and shut off the video. Give it up. He's worse than a non-flaw. He's a flaw pretending he isn't. I'm wasting my time with this slag.

Lockdown went back outside. His face and body steamed under the cold rain, betraying the arousal he wouldn't admit to himself. He wanted to make Prowl look like that...

A brilliant lightning bolt lit the sky overhead, followed by a vibration that crashed into his chest like a hammer. He even felt it reverberate through the holes in the sides of his head. That...that was the closest he ever came to truly hearing.

Heh, maybe Prowl was right. Lockdown mused. He retreated inside just long enough to get himself a barrel of oil and ventured deeper into the forest. Tremors tingled against his feet. The grass, mud and puddles all shook under the pouring rainfall.

Now what was that old bar song Swindle knew? Lockdown set his oil canister down on a tree stump and scratched his head, trying desperately to recall the vulgar lyrics. Something about pissin' in a spill bein' such a thrill, no, that's not it. Ah crud, I can't remember. Oh, well.

But he whistled anyway and decided to void his waste tank in a huge puddle under a crooked tree. It took awhile; he hadn't emptied in at least a week.

Ah yeah...now I remember. I'm pissin' out my sorrows, countin' my tomorrows. Heh, heh, what a stupid bar song.

Lockdown finished and plodded back to the drink he left on the stump. It had water in it now. He didn't care, he drank it like a shot.

Bright lightning flashed right overhead. Lockdown felt the boom reverberate from his forehead to his feet. It shook his chassis! He looked up and grinned--thunder was something he always enjoyed, be it from explosions or storms. Thunderclaps moved straight through him in ways no other sound could.

Lockdown set his drink down again. Not a second later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of white before something cold wrapped around his throat and his world drowned in slimy, wet mud. His first instinct was to swing his chainsaw.

Except he couldn't make it spin!

"What the!" Lockdown looked up into an azure visor gleaming in the darkness. He barely made out the Elite Guard symbol before more mud splashed on his optics, temporarily blinding him. The rain took forever to wash his eyes clean. "Hey!"

A white fist twisted the chain three times around itself. Lockdown found himself face to face with Prowl's bond mate.

"Hi there, Lockdown. How's it going?"

Lockdown would be a fool if he felt no fear. Something about the way this Jazz bot sneered, something about how his visor glowed, promised fates far worse than death.

"I've had better days," he replied, and measured the ninja's response by how the corners of his mouth curled down just a little more.

"Oh, I bet you have," Jazz's teeth flashed. He looked so uncharacteristically feral--like someone who also harbored a monster. "I've got something to say to you. So pay attention, punk, 'cause I'm only sayin' it once."

Lockdown almost laughed in his face. This should be good. "Get it over with."

"I want you to get your aft off this planet and away from Prowl. If you come back, I better not find out about it. You won't like it, Lockdown."

The ninja's fist quivered around the chain. Lockdown's metal skull shook when he was slammed into the ground and yanked up again. He saw stars from the impact, yet kept his face composed throughout the abuse. If Jazz meant to kill him here, he would not die crying for mercy.

"If you get arrested anywhere else, it'll be because of your crimes and not your flaw--"

Lockdown's optics widened a little, despite himself. The ninja's white form blurred and swam as raindrops washed over his eyes.

"--yeah, I know about it." The ninja went on, "Don't expect me to speak for you if that happens, because I won't--"

Oh, for the love of...was he going to wax philosophical and drag this humiliation out? Lockdown refused to let this continue. He sighed, "Puh-leese, your speech is putting me to sleep."

"Shut up!"

Blinding pain shot through Lockdown's body. His arms and legs writhed in spasms beyond his control. Pressure nodes, oh slag, this ninja knew them all. There was nothing he could do but wait for the torture to pass.

"I don't have to kill you, Lockdown, but I don't have to save you, either. And right now..." Those teeth gleamed at him again, dangerous tools hidden behind pleasant lips, "...I'd give anything to see you slagged for what you did to Prowl."

"Oh?" Lockdown said defiantly. "So, ninja, what's stopping you?" He let his anger go, silently, spitting his words out into the pounding rain, "If you're so high and mighty, what's stopping you? Morals? Tch! If you Autobots have such strong morals, why do you kill your flawed? Whatever happened to this whole 'protect life' mantra you chant?" He smirked...if this speech got him killed, at least he'd die having been heard. "Oh, wait, only perfect bots are allowed to live. And you're telling me I should be slagged? Look in the mirror!"

"Nobody's perfect." Jazz leaned closer and grinned. A lightning flash caught his visor--and those teeth--he looked manic. Depraved. Vengeful. An energon-thirsty monster held only by the chain around its wrist. Lockdown actually felt scared when he noticed the ninja's white fist resting over the armor protecting his Spark. It took all his willpower not to shrink back.

"Life's a bigger glitch than death when it doesn't go your way." Jazz went on. Unlike Prowl, the pure malice on his face wasn't dampened by his visor, "You'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you? You cheap slag heap! You make me sick!"

"Oh, stop it, you're making me cry," Lockdown rolled his eyes and yawned, tired of being frightened by a mech smaller than himself. Tiny warnings in the back of his mind told him not to run his mouth too much--there was no way he could take this ninja in combat. Not with the collar disabling his mods. "Are you done yet?"

That really fried the ninja's circuits. His lips pulled back and Lockdown's reality tipped again, painfully. He stood upright with the other ninja beside him, still clutching the chain in his fist.

His grip actually dented a few links.

Yeah, you go right on with your hate, ninja. I don't care. I hate you right back. It's so easy.

The chain jolted forward and he had no choice but to follow. They walked several paces and stopped next to a clump of trees that shimmered unnaturally in the rain.

Jazz twisted his arm, forcing Lockdown to face him. "You're going to get on your ship and leave. I'll stand here until I see you take off. And don't you fool around. I can get Ultra Magnus' attention...and he'd love to talk to you about a few things." All expression melted from his face, but whatever tone of voice he used lost its impact. "Don't make me do that, Lockdown."

Lockdown sneered as the rainfall sent mud rolling unpleasantly down his back. He pressed on the knot of a tree and the hologram disappeared, revealing the red tones of his ship. It loomed like a beast in the wind and rain.

"I was giving Prowl a chance to live without fear. He's an idiot to risk it around non-flaws." He grinned. Time to piss the ninja off for real--he knew exactly how. What did he have to lose? "By the way, his overloads are quite a show. Always had a feeling he was an animal on the berth...the quiet ones always are." He tapped the side of his head, "I've got it all recorded in my memory chips. Close-ups, audio and all. Heh, I bet people'd pay a lot to see something like that."

An elbow to the midsection cut off his laughter. He kept laughing internally. The ninja was like all the rest--he had no problem abusing a flawed mech with the right excuse!

"You. Ship. NOW!"

Jazz looked like someone shoved a live wire up his aft when he yelled. Lockdown nearly laughed in his face. Perhaps anger wouldn't be so funny if he could actually hear the yelling that went along with it. But, since he couldn't, he had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"What about the collar?" Lockdown brushed his hook against the chain, "Do I get to keep it for bondage gear?"

"It's programmed to deactivate in thirty minutes." Jazz's face melted into an eerie smile. He disconnected the chain and shoved Lockdown towards the ship. Parts of his armor were coated in the mud and filth of their scuffle. Or was it his past as a flaw-killer that made him appear dirty in Lockdown's eyes?

"Or maybe..." The ninja continued, "...I rigged it to electrify, and it'll cripple you permanently if you don't get inside in the next sixty seconds. D'ya really want to frag around with me that way?"

The cold look on his face...Lockdown whirled on him and growled, "You wouldn't--"

"Try me," Jazz's glare penetrated through the visor and into Lockdown's Spark. Maybe it was knowing he had eyes behind it that gave his expression more power than Prowl's ever did.

It would be the most humiliating departure of Lockdown's life. Knowing he'd lost this battle, and staring at the reason why with a threat hanging over his head that he couldn't confirm or deny. In that moment, he hated the white ninja more than his own flaw. He was the reason Prowl wasn't underneath him right now, crying out in ecstasy.

"Fifty seconds," Jazz crossed his arms. "Tick tock."

Lockdown had no choice. Even worse, he slipped on the ramp, and scrambled to grab the door. At least Jazz wasn't laughing when he glanced over his shoulder and shot him a last, baleful glare. He wished the lightning flashing overhead would come down and strike that bastard where he stood.

Of course, praying never worked. Even if he got the lightning he wanted, it'd probably strike him anyway.

He glowered still as the airlock snapped shut and his ship vibrated on liftoff.

The slagging collar fell off right then!

Lockdown rammed his fist into the wall, denting it. Falling for that ninja's bluff...how embarrassing! Then he cooled his temper and reached down, picking up the unassuming silver device lying near his feet. A free stasis collar came out of this mess, so his trip here wasn't a total loss. He set it on the shelf and walked languidly towards the main computer console.

Green lights flashed upon his ship achieving orbit. Planet Earth filled half the view screen like a glowing blue and white jewel of incomparable worth. Lockdown clicked it off to look over the holo-scans he'd taken. The one where he accidentally cut Prowl's head out of the picture came out so unintentionally raunchy. Prowl was sitting on the table with his legs spread and a hand in between them to steady himself. He was in the act of turning to face Lockdown, but his natural sensuality made it into something decidedly sexual. It looked like he was about to grab the chain dangling beside him and fondle himself into overload.

Another light blinked on the console, disrupting the viewing. Someone had another bounty.

Hmph, I could use a good hunt after this mess. He pressed the "text" button and read the file on the target bot. Some important political official with info the Decepticons wanted. I'll take this hunt and grab some upgrades. Then I'll be back, Prowl, and I'm gonna take your mods for myself.

Scowling, he examined the photos again. Prowl's eyeless face burned his optics like acid. He started to delete them one by one, but stopped when he came to the lewd, headless shot. His hand drew back from the keypad.

That was the only picture of Prowl worth keeping. It was flawless, and Lockdown could still pretend.