Hello, again. I'm glad to see this fic is getting some readings; thanks for giving it another chance.

Also, special thanks to Skyshadow54 and to IdioticLaptopUser for their comments! It made me happy! I really hope not to disappoint your expectations!

A quick clarification before the chapter:

Here the characters speaks of a breakout that happened three-stellar cycles ago; that was something that took place on another fanfic. Also, the race of giant lizards to which Crosshairs refers is based on Transformers Drift comics, and it's, also, something that I included in another story.

That's all. If anything else comes up during the plot, I'll indicate it too.

Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes... Also, this is my first time attempting to write Jazz's slang... Sorry.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.

-ONE-

SO LONG, TRANQUILITY

Prowl, Praxian by birth, was now captain to Iacon's Law Enforcement department. His promotion was hardly a surprise, considering the events from three stellar-cycles ago, when Shockwave's and Starscream's lackeys broke into the max security prison in order to free the Stunticons and Combaticons in a sad attempt to change the war's result. The news of the famous Autobot Triplets chasing down those two gestalt teams, all the way back to Earth, helped them with their jobs. X-Brawn was now a Special Ops, Side Burn was officially an instructor at the Elite Guard Academy, while he got his promotion to captain ―ok, the fact that Ultra Magnus took the job as head of the Elite Guard helped moving things along. The white and black mech has, ever since, dedicated himself with newfound strength to defend the Cybertronian law. His only issue, so far, was the fact that there were yet some runaways that nobody has found; he wanted to help in the search, but the supervisor was keeping him busy with other missions… Fortunately, it didn't mean he couldn't help his older brother who was investigating the fugitives' probable whereabouts ―off the records, of course. "We've tried all the borders on the west and east… North? No. Too risky, and these guys wants to go unnoticed. That leaves only one option." He activated his com-link, staring at the northern border.

«Hey, bro. » X-Brawn's cheerful voice greeted him.

"I think you should start patrolling the Sea of Rust. It's the safest gamble to find the remaining runaways." The Praxian informed immediately, ignoring his brother's greeting.

A sigh was heard over the line.

«Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking. » The warrior's remark made the Middle Triplet wince in emotional pain. His social skills were in worse shape than he thought.

"I'm sorry, X… It's just, with all the work I have now…" He started to apologize, face-palming.

«I know, Prowl… I know how you get when you're absorbed into something; you were exactly the same when we were sparklings… » Then, the older triplet chuckled. «I remembered the time when Side got angry 'cause you wouldn't play with him, so he hid your data-pads for an entire afternoon. Oh, slag! How pissed you were! »

The white and black mech couldn't help but smile at the memory. That day he was his entire focus was on his homework; something that displeased his younger brother greatly, making him decide to grab all the data-pads he had, hiding him at his 'secret place'. It took Prowl joors to convince his sibling that he wasn't ignoring him on purpose, but that he had duties to fulfill… Only after promising to spend the entire next cycle with him did Side Burn returned the items ―turned out there was a hole beneath his berth where he stashed everything he wanted to keep hidden, especially candy. Even though he denied in front of others, he, sometimes, missed those days where there was nothing but his brothers and he. Life was much simpler back then...

A shift was detected by his sensors right outside his office, making him perk up. Someone was coming his way; and, either if it was the supervisor, as if it wasn't, he knew himself acting out of his jurisdiction helping his brother with a case given to Special Ops and not law enforcers. So, quickly, he deactivated the holographic map of Iacon, and told his brother he had to go. Immediately after, he brought up his workstation and some data-pads. Thanks to his efficiency, he had already finished the paperwork, however nobody else at the precinct knew it, so it wouldn't be hard for him to pretend he was yet working on it.

When the door swooshed open, the visitor found the Praxian proofreading one of the reports, diligently. The door-winger pretended not to notice the intrusion, until the newcomer cleared his vocalizer to force him look up. He recognized one of the supervisor's men; and, as he suspected the moment he recognized the shield on the visitor's chest, this mech was bringing a new assignment for the Praxian. Nodding, the white and black bot took the written debrief and started reading it… Only to frown, his processor concentrating in the information and forgetting everything else.

"Is this for real?" He questioned, raising his optics to stare at the other mech.

The messenger limited himself to nod, before turning to leave.

"The higher ups trusts you're the best option to look into this, officer Prowl." The visitor said, before walking out of the office, closing the door behind him.

The Praxian took another glance at the data-pad on his hands. It was strange that the supervisor delegated a case like this one to him, the youngest captain among the force. Either it was a test to see if he was ready, or the guy trusted him more than he credited him for. Prowl wasn't sure. The only thing he was certain was that he had to get moving; so, recovering from his initial shock, he walked out and called two other enforcers to come with, plus a forensic officer.

"Where to, sir?" One of the cops wondered, as they transformed to drive away.

"The space-ports. A spaceship just returned… Barely." That said, the middle brother of the Triplets, turned on his siren and sped off, followed by his men.

X-Brawn, a young, yet experimented warrior of mint green armor, entered the headquarters' cafeteria looking for his crew. To many he was just another soldier who fought in the war and managed to stay alive until its end; only a few knew his relationship with Prowl, and even fewer knew that they were part of the only set of triplets that Cybertron has ever known. Honestly, nobody has ever explained why three brothers were sparked instead of only two, nor why they reached maturity at different times; but, most of the people who knew the Triplets wandered how it was possible for them to look so different from each other ―X-Brawn was the bulky and tall one, an all-around warrior-class mech; Prowl was the prototypical Praxian, with a tactician-like processor and big door-wings with sensors; and, finally, Side Burn was the overexcited speedster of the trio, the easy-going one. Some thought that this was due to the fact their hatches were located at a triple frontier… But, nobody could say it for sure. However, there were some bots who didn't give a frag about this matter, and simply liked the fact that they were friends with, at least, one of the three.

A very well-known Polihexian was among that list…

"Hey, X-Brawn!" The short, white figure called from a corner, waving a hand to call the other mech's attention.

"Should've known you'll be here, Jazz." The bulky warrior answered, walking up to the former lieutenant, smirking. They bumped fists. "What're you doing all by your own? I thought you were the social-type." He asked, looking at the empty table.

"Yer being talking with Prowler, haven't yah?" The Polihexian, laughed, leaning against the chair's backrest and crossing his arms. "Nah, the bosses decided tah test mah team's abilities this morning." He explained.

"And why aren't you with them?" The green mech wondered.

"'Cause ah passed with flyin' colors." Jazz chuckled, grabbing the cube that was in front of him, and taking a sip.

X-Brawn didn't buy a word… He knew the guy; this was his brother's Amica Endura, after all. He was aware of the mech's reputation as third in command (later second, when Prowl chose to stay behind during the Ark's launch) and, before that, as Special Ops… That's right, the bot with the visor used to have this very same job before everything went to slag, over four million years ago; but, most importantly, after joining the Autobots, he became a very clever, and very resourceful, saboteur. He was the bot Optimus would call whenever they needed someone to infiltrate a Decepticon outpost. The fact that he was still alive, with all his limbs attached to his body, proved just how good he was...

"Well, I would love to stick around and chat about what trick you used to be here, while your pals are burning fuel at the training room…" The older triplet said, making his companion chuckle behind his glass. "But I gotta find my team and get out of here." He told the shorter mech, extending a fist toward him. "See yah around, 'Hexian."

The former lieutenant bumped fists with the other bot.

"Send Prowler mah regards, will yah?"

With that, the bulky warrior left, and Jazz was on his own again. Relaxing on his seat, the bot checked his chronometer, noticing that his partners had been at the training room for over a joor now. Sighing, he drank the last sip of Energon and went to leave the empty cube, deciding to, also, grab another. What could be taking so long to those two? "Maybe I should go and check on them…" He decided, hurrying his new drink, before jogging out of the cafeteria.

The Special Ops headquarters were a gianourmous building, located nearby the War Academy. They weren't exactly at Iacon's center ―where the Hall of Records was being rebuilt―, but they weren't in the outer rings either… It was a comfortable location, though. Their new base was perfect, and had all the toys they needed to keep themselves sharp; but, given the lack of people, since only a few had ever returned to the planet, the building always seemed empty…

As the Polihexian reached the stairs that led to the room he was trying to reach, the distant sound of grunts and huffs made him smile, recognizing those voice prints. Smirking, he started to descend to the sublevel, practically jogging and skipping some rungs.

Downstairs, there were four Autobots sparring; two of them were large and bulky, and were demonstrating that their physical strength was equal to their size, having no issues whenever they needed to throw aside their opponents. This last pair were considerably smaller, yet, they were also as tough as they come. One of them was a swordsman of white and orange armor, with the badge carved proudly in the middle of his chest-plates; the other was a green and black mech, a sharpshooter and, most likely, a former frontline bot, whose brand was carved on one of his shoulders. The only thing those two had in common were their reputations as troublesome assets…

To tell the truth, the director ―who was observing the match from the control room― had a hard time understanding why someone like Jazz, whose illustrious career preceded him, chose that duo as his new partners. Everyone knew who they were! Especially the knight! Grimacing in repressed anger as the white and orange mech managed to throw his opponent off-balance, the Specials Ops Director snorted, crossing his arms.

The fact that Jazz finished his trials faster than his companions didn't surprise him at all… The guy was just that good. But the fact that these two were also excelling the rest of the joint… He didn't know how much he liked that idea, if at all.

Meanwhile, the knight was dodging incoming attacks from his opponent. Given this was training and not actual fighting, he couldn't use his real swords, but sticks; just as the larger mech couldn't use real blasters, but paintballs. So far, his armor was pretty clean ―save one scrap on his left shoulder, courtesy of the bulky guy's partner―, so he was winning… In a way. Even though he has been able to blown some hits to his sparring partner, he couldn't pin him down, so the fight always resumed kliks afterwards. "I need to get closer…" He thought, sliding behind a crate, taking cover from the 'enemy fire'. There had to be a way for him to get close enough; he just needed a window.

Peeking out of his hiding, the knight soon had to take refuge once again, as more paintballs were thrown his was.

"Scrap!" The larger warrior grumbled as his paint pistol jammed.

"I'll take that as my cue." The white and orange mech, who was spying his opponent once again, told himself.

And, tightening his grip around the sticks, he let out a battle cry as he ran straight toward the other bot who tried to shove him off; unfortunately, the smaller Cybertronian jumped forward, using his sparring partner's forearm to take even more impulse as he put one kneepad forward. Next thing the larger warrior knew, he was hit on the tank at full-force, reason why he fell flat on his back. The knight pinned him down by stepping on his chest, and pointing at his face with one of the sticks he was using for swords.

"I yield…" The bulky guy of dark grey armor admitted through his gritted teeth.

Smiling, the smaller bot stepped aside so his opponent could get up.

"It was a great spar." He said, trying to buff any possible grudge… But all he got was a snort, as the other mech got up and walked away, paying his good intentions no mind.

Sighing, the knight turned to the other pair in the room, finding out that his real partner was in a tight spot, trapped behind a pillar. "C'mon, Crosshairs, you're better than that!" The white and orange mech thought, wishing he could help; however, by the rules stablished in the test, if he interfered, his teammate wouldn't pass, and, if such thing happened, he wouldn't be able to remain in the force.

Crosshairs, meanwhile, wasn't actually trapped. He was simply counting how many paintballs the other guy had used during their spar, and keeping track of how many he has left. None of them had much more ammunition, and, to tell the truth, the whole situation was getting pretty boring… Time to be done with this fight. Placing his red googles over his optics, the green and black mech activated his targeting system and leaped out of hiding. The other warrior, seeing his opponent coming out in the open tried to counterattack… Unfortunately, while Crosshairs had a perfect score, the other bot simply grazed the paratrooper's leg. The green bot won.

"Crosshairs, one; rooky, zero." The paratrooper silently cheered, pulling his googles off his optics and placing them back on his forehead, while the bot he was sparring with scoffed and walked away, sulking. "Sore loser…" Crosshairs muttered, grimacing.

"You did great, my friend." Drift commented, walking closer to his partner.

The green bot smirked, turning to look at the knight.

"I may not have your fancy moves, but I sure know how to stand my ground." He reminded the younger mech.

"You would know my moves, if you allowed me to-…"

"No, thank you!" Crosshairs hurried to say, walking away from his friend.

He respected Drift, big time, but he just couldn't put up with his acrobat-like techniques… But, he liked to have the knight as a friend. After they were put together as a team, the white and orange bot has kept him alive more times than not, and has done nothing but being a good friend. A part of the paratrooper still had a hard time believing it, considering that they didn't start their partnership with the right foot… Not to mention the time they got caught by a race of giant lizards, who wanted to dismantle them ―that one really taught them how to work together…

As the two warriors walked out the room, the head of the joint started reading the performances' results, right when the soft swish of the doors alerted him of a visitor.

"You're late. Your men are done already." The bot said, not looking at the newcomer.

"Ah know they're done… Man, 'Hairs has a mean aim, dontcha think?" The mech with a thick Polihexian accent commented, walking up his toward his superior.

The director groaned with a sigh, before turning to look at the Special Ops officer, who was smirking with sufficiency, with his arms crossed over his chest, weight leaning against a nearby keyboard. "If he wasn't the best there is…" The dark crimson mech thought, frowning at the grin, which was answered by a downward grimace.

"A respectful team leader, would've come here to watch the matches; instead of hiding in the shadows of the room where nobody else could see him."

"Ah like to know how people behaves when Ah'm not around." Jazz retorted with a shrug. "That was mah job, after all."

That said, the former lieutenant walked out of the room, and made his way back to the cafeteria, taking that there was where his men were headed. However, before he could make it to the staircase, his com-link pinged; it was Prowl. "That's a first…" He thought, stopping on his tracks to attend the call. Even though they were Amica Endura, he couldn't remember a single time where the Praxian has called him; not even once. He usually just yelled at him, or came to meet him in person.

«Jazz, I need your help. » The white and black mech said without even bothering to greet his best friend ―which was a far too good opportunity for the Polihexian to let it pass…

"Hello to yah too, pal. Long time, no see; how're yah doin'? Ah'm fine, thank yah." The Special Ops retorted, grinning.

A long groan came back, next to a sigh. This caught the white mech's attention too, aware that the other bot never produced those sounds, except when absolutely frustrated. It told him it wasn't time for jokes…

"What do yah need?"

«Meet me at the north-side spaceports. I'll brief you there » was Prowl's only answer. Evidently he didn't want to discuss whatever was going on over the com-link.

"See yah in ten." That said, he hung up. "Right after Ah pick up mah team…" He added, jogging his way back to the cafeteria.

Prowl sighed once again, before going back to the crime scene he was dealing with. Only when he arrived was he told that there were multiple precincts working on this case; and with good reason too! The vessel he was currently working on wasn't the only one, nor the first… Neither was the pilot of said ship…

As he approached the room where he was moments ago, the Praxian couldn't help but notice two forensics opening the door to the bridge.

"Don't!" He ordered, making the pair back away. "I need to do one more thing before you enter to collect the evidence." He informed, hurrying to stand at the doorway, not daring to walk inside and disrupt anything…

The control room was a mess… "Time to work." Prowl thought, immediately dropping to a knee, before start reconstructing the fight in his mind. Hopefully, once Jazz arrived, he would've everything he needed to find the culprit.

That's all for now. Thanks again for reading; and, please let me know your thoughts.

Bye.