A/N: Okay, I decided to do a chapter 2 let's see how things roll, mm'kay?

Masquerade

Chapter 2: Torment

We fear how we feel inside.

- EMINEM, Mockingbird

"You failed!"

"Y-yes, I—"

"You failed the most critical mission in my plans you fool!"

"Please forgive me Lor—"

"Silence you insolent fool! I had trusted you with this task because you were the only one able to pull it off and you failed! All of those vorns to prepare for this and you didn't even kill an Autobot!" The voice was none other than Megatron's as he practically roared in his rage, his harsh voice echoing through the halls of the Nemesis. Before the Decepticon leader there was kneeled the Autobot traitor himself, spluttering at Megatron's verbal assaults.

It took a moment for the special operations bot to regain his ability to speak, his red optics glued to Megatron's feet in attempt to avoid the harsh gaze of his leader. "You see, Lord Megatron, I was savin' Prime for you. I-It's only fitting that the mighty Megatron snuff out the 'bots last hope." Jazz watched as a silence overtook the chamber and Megatron's feet shifted as if the big silver Decepticon considered this.

Finally, after what appeared to be a breem, Megatron gave a scoff. "It is fitting indeed," The words brought a small flash of relief over the Porsche's CPU as he visibly relaxed his frame. "But, it makes me wonder if you've gotten soft after spending all of that time with those pathetic Autobots." Jazz glanced up, shock evident in his body language as a large, dark grin passed over Megatron's facial features. "So I want you to go and prove otherwise. Kill the Autobot second in command and things should definitely prove well for your loyalty and for the Decepticon cause."

"Hey are you even listening?"

Ironhide's voice broke through the scenarios the Datsun's processor was running through, bringing the blue optics up from the data pad to the frown covering the Van's facial plating, the Autobot SIC a little dazed. I didn't catch it, no. Prowl admitted, his attention darting to the data pad for a nanosecond as he set it down, only for him to return his attention back to the troubled mech. "Besides the obvious, is something wrong? You seem a lot more agitated than usual in this circumstance."

Giving a grumble, Ironhide nodded sharply, crossing his arms and tilting his chin so it seemed like he was glowering downward to the higher ranked officer. "Well yeah. Here we are makin' all these plans to stop the Decepticons and yet we haven't even started makin' plans about how we're gonna deal with that traitor; if ye ask me he deserves the scrap pile – I mean look what he did to Optimus."

Sudden irritation began blooming in Prowl's processor at Ironhide's words; despite all the necessity for it that was exactly what the Datsun was trying to avoid.

Jazz.

Traitor. But it unexpectedly hurt the tactician to think of the Porsche like that, especially considering how close they had gotten. With Jazz, Prowl had been able to open up; to express himself as something other than the cold, calculating tactician. Prowl had been able to live rather than just the mundane task of surviving.

A sudden loud cracking noise reached his audios and he looked down to his hand which had shattered the data pad in reflex to thoughts. With a soft sigh passing through his intakes, he set down the now useless data pad, turning his attention back to Ironhide, a grimace spread across his features. "I would presume it best to leave that matter undecided until Optimus is up and functional again." And Ironhide opened his mouth to retort, but Prowl was one step ahead of him, cutting him off before he can get started. "We leave it to Optimus. Any complaints and I'll have Ratchet take out your vocalizer."

Satisfied that the red van had been put in his place, the Autobot SIC got to his feet, and was about to pick up and discard the data pad when Bluestreak came running in, blue optics wide with shock. The sharpshooter was rambling loudly as he stopped in front of the two surprised mechs, making it impossible to make out what the young Autobot was saying. With a worried frown and a heavy ache in his processor, Prowl raised his voice, cutting the rambling mech off. "Bluestreak, report." His tone, albeit a little harsh, broke Bluestreak from his trance of anxious babbling long enough for him to bring air into his intakes and start over.

"I—I, well, when I was on duty I was at my post like told And, oh, Primus! He snuck up on me! Out of nowhere too; had he wanted to k-kill me then he could have. B—"

"He as in that traitor?" Ironhide held a nasty glare across his facial features. "And you didn't fight him or nothin'? Ye just came back and reported like a frightened sparklin'?"

In a subconscious act that he had picked up from Sparkplug, Prowl rubbed his temples, as he listened to Ironhide rage for a few moments longer. After securely making sure his temper wouldn't snap, the tactician stepped in, cutting off one of Ironhide's stories of what he would have done back on Cybertron. "Bluestreak, continue; what did he do after he snuck up on you?"

Giving a small, slightly timid glance to Ironhide, whom looked as pleased as Megatron would after reading fan fiction, Bluestreak continued. "Well, he could have killed me, but he didn't. Instead he just gave me something to pass onto you a message." And he brought a data pad out from sub space, holding it out to the tactician.

Taking it, Prowl glanced to the other two mechs, who were looking at him apprehensively. Opting that reading the message would be best done in privacy, he dismissed the two and turned to leave the rec room, heading straight for his quarters.

The Autobot SIC didn't speak to anyone he passed in the halls, only stopping briefly outside his quarters to punch in the access code and sliding into the room even before the door was fully open. For a moment, he just stood there, optics taking in the plain sight of just the berth and the desk until he heard the hydraulic hiss of the door closing behind him. In that instant, his gaze dropped to the data pad, reading the message quickly.

Originally, he hadn't been sure what to think or suspect; knowing Jazz it could have been anything. He shook that thought out of his processor; he didn't really know Jazz. He was a Decepticon, and had been playing the Autobots from the start or so Prowl tried to convince himself. Truth be told, the Datsun wasn't too sure he knew exactly what to think, but the one thing that he was sure of – that he intended to find out.

Tossing the message onto his desk, Prowl turned and left his quarters, a goal set in mind. Turning to his alt mode, he drove out of the Autobot base, trusting that he knew what he was doing.