Hello, everyone. How're you doing? I hope you're all ok, given the current times...

Skyshadow54: thank you for your comments. You're right, Prowl and Jazz knows each other so well, that the Praxian simply rolls with it whenever his friend comes up with his strange and crazy ideas and requests; he has grown too tired to ask XD And, yes, Drift's currently spiraling down into some difficult memories of his; and the decisions made upon them will have consequences. You'll see ;)

Warnings: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes ahead.

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


-EIGHT-

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

A white and orange vehicle was at the city's borderline, looking over the Sea of Rust. This was an awfully bad idea. He knew.

It wasn't too late yet; he could just turn around, and apologize to his friends for haven't gone to work, and explain his recent behavior. All he had to do was turn around, and go back to Iacon's downtown; as simple as that…

But he didn't.

Taking a deep breath, the muscle car rolled toward the plain, which, fortunately, wasn't being hit by a rust storm that cycle. He had found out where he needed to go, and he was aware that if he was going to do it, he had to do it fast; so, making his mind, the Cybertronian raced to the coordinates he managed to get from a low live thug he tracked down the streets a couple nights ago, right before tossing the guy's sorry aft into the brig.

His com-link pinged again. He ignored it for the thousandth time that deca-cycle. He hated to do this to his friends, but there was no other option… They made clear that, no matter what he said, they would go after those guys… And he couldn't allow it. He wasn't capable of protecting Gasket nor Wing, but he would keep these two safe; same with the Middle Triplet, Prowl. The only inconvenient was that he lacked the means to actually get out of Cybertron without their knowing. "Good thing that guy was one of the Decepticons who escaped recapture three stellar-cycles ago…" He thought, as the city's outline became smaller in his mirrors.

It took a few hours of driving, but he finally arrived to a makeshift fort in the middle of the Sea of Rust. It was literally built with scrap metal, and it stood out in the emptiness of the scenery. On the other hand, it also allowed the bots within to know whenever someone was approaching; so, no surprises when two Decepticons peeked out, ready to fight if he wasn't a friendly visit.

The orange and white vehicle, seeing this, quickly transformed, coming to full stop, and rose his hands in surrender.

"I don't want to fight." He informed, slowly walking up to the guards. "I'm here for businesses only." He added.

The two 'Cons, however, noticing the Autobot brand on his chest, soon cocked their blasters and prepared to shoot. "Ok. Plan B." Frowning, he leaped forward, making the two guards open fire.

Dodging the attacks, the mech hurried to incapacitate his opponents. Grabbing the blaster of one of them, he redirected the gun, so they ended taking down one another; then, once his two opponents were unconscious, he walked inside the fort… Only to be faced by another forty-or-so guards…

"Oh, scrap…" He cursed with a sigh.

"Hands in the air, 'Bot!" One of the mechs shouted at him.

The white and orange warrior did as told, scanning his surroundings. The guy he was looking for wasn't among these thugs, who quickly took his swords away, before start leading him to the depths of the shantytown he managed to enter. Only after the guards pushed him through the inside door did the warrior understand how hard it would be for him to get out if he didn't play his cards carefully.

"Wait here." One of the guards ordered him, before disappearing within a small construction.

He guessed that he was finally led to the bot he was searching. And, indeed, he was right; for, as soon as the guard reappeared, a black mech with jet wings on his back appeared behind the thug. Black Shadow, the king of Cybertron's black market during the war. Exactly the person he wanted to see…

The 'Con arched an eyebrow, before scan his visitor from head to toe. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it… Nonetheless, the moment he noticed the Autobot badge proudly carved on the stranger's chest-plates, he was nano-kliks away from gesturing his guards to take care of this. But he was curious as of why would a 'Bot take such risk to find him. After all, he was all alone, at the Sea of Rust; help was joors away, and the cloaking system he managed to snatch when he broke out of jail three stellar-cycles ago made sure nobody could bridge in or out without him knowing. So he decided to see what this guy wanted…

"Are you Black Shadow?" The stranger asked.

"Depends on who's asking… Autobot." He snarled, crossing his arms, and narrowing his optics.

"My designation, and affiliation doesn't matter; I'm here because I require access to a spaceship." He stated, standing strong.

Black Shadow pursed his lips, and frowned at the demand.

"And why would you need my services for that? Considering your looks, all you need to do is ask your superiors to get one." The 'Con retorted, not really interested in this exchange. He didn't see where his profit was…

"I don't want my superiors to know I'm gone." The warrior announced, while reaching for something behind his back.

This got every single bot around him on guard. He quickly rose his other hand, before showing a package with shanix that he was carrying; then, he tossed it towards the black mech, who caught it in midair. Now this got him Black Shadow's attention…

Smirking, the 'Con admitted to know a guy who may provide the vessel, however, he also warned his client that what he was asking for wasn't a cheap asset. This hinted the warrior to toss another package to the black armored mech, who, once again, caught it midair and contemplated it, considering his answer; yet, he ended smiling, and saying it only covered half the ship's price.

"I'll give you the rest after I've received the ship, not before." The Autobot stated, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Fine for me." Black Shadow agreed, shrugging a shoulder, still smirking. "My partner, Bacchus, will deliver the asset to this coordinates tomorrow at sundown." He informed, giving the white and orange guy a data-pad with all the needed data. "Don't be late, or he'll be gone with the ship, and all this would've been for nothing." The 'Con warned, turning to leave. "My men will show you out." He said, waving a hand over his shoulder.

Immediately after, the same thugs from before were surrounding the outsider, whose frown intensified.

"Not without my swords." The Autobot called.

Black Shadow grinned. "He remembered…" He cursed, mentally, while gesturing his guards to return the items.

Once outside, the white and orange mech transformed and drove away. It was already past noon, and he had lots of things to do if he wanted to be ready for this…

… … …

A white vehicle was speeding down the road, followed closely by a green and black car. Unfortunately, their race was for nothing, considering the call that the one taking point received: Prowl, whom obviously kept watching the feed ever since he left, notified him that Drift was seen back in the city through one of the traffic cameras. Jazz stomped his brakes, leaving a black skid mark behind his tires, as he managed to come to full stop and transform ―Crosshairs was forced to mimic his behavior in order to prevent crashing onto his superior, though he transformed far less gracefully, ending on his butt. The Polihexian, meanwhile, was busy with his com-link, talking to his Amica Endura, who assured to have seen the knight heading back into the city. He was going downtown. The Special Ops thanked the Intel and hung up, before turning to look at his partner, sharing the change of plans as he helped the green mech up.

Deep inside, he was fearing that all this chase would be for nothing, considering that Drift knew all the tricks when it comes to move unnoticed; but he had to try. Whatever was happening to that mech, he suspected that he couldn't face it on his own…

As soon as they could transform, both warriors were heading for downtown. Jazz called back Prowl, asking to keep him posted if the white and orange bot appeared in his screens again. It was a long shot, but it was worth trying.

… … …

Iacon wasn't Rodion, and he was learning it fast. Even with all his training, with all his time as man hunter, Drift was having trouble staying out of sight; he probably got caught on camera a few times already, meaning that his friends had a somewhat vague idea of his position. They would try to stop him, no doubt; he must, already, be suspecting something. They would want answers, explanations for his recent behavior. Then again, how could he give them any without revealing his past? Without bringing back the memories he struggled for so long to leave behind?

Sighing, he simply shook the thought out of his head, and kept moving.

Somehow he managed to reach his apartment in order to grab his stuff and prepare for the trip; he should start with the shanix missing for the ship's price. Black Shadow was explicit: either he paid the other half of it, or the vessel was gone. A little voice at the back of his head kept reminding him that it was all the money he had, while another answered that there was no way to know whether he would return anyway. "Lockdown alone is dangerous, and I don't know who else-…" His thought was interrupted by the slight sound of something hitting the floor inside his place. His allegedly empty place.

Frowning, he opened the front door with a hand, while gripping one of his twin swords with the other. Nothing, as far as he could see; but the sound from moments ago was very clear. There was an intruder. So, slowly, he entered the apartment and closed the front door behind his back; optics sweeping the room, their bright blue shining clear in the dim light ―all thanks to his already closed windows. He caught a slight movement at the dining room, and his swords flew out of their sheets, while he jumped behind the opaque cerulean glass screen that separated the receiver from the rest of the place, taking (some) cover. Either if it was a mere burglar or not, they chose the wrong house to break in.

The whirring sound of a blaster charging up was his warning to roll out of his hiding, and jump into the fight, tackling the intruder and sending both of them to the ground. The other bot, however, pushed him off, tossing him to the side. The small grunt that came out of its vocalizer, next to its thin frame, told Drift that his opponent was a femme; nonetheless, he couldn't be sure of anything in such a dark room ―the only thing he saw clear were the other bot's purple optics, which wasn't a good sign. So, throwing a kick ―that missed by mere inches― toward his attacker, the knight managed to position himself closer to the light switch and turn on the ceiling lights, revealing a silver grey and purple femme ―a jet considering her wings― staring at him with a devious smirk on the lips. "Oh, no…" was the mech's first thought, his optics going wide and his mouth falling agape at the reveal. He would've much preferred the theory of the idiotic burglar, than this…

"Slipstream…" He breathed, remembering the hunter's name. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?!" The knight demanded, his eyebrows falling into a deep frown while his teeth showed a bit.

"Did you honestly think you could hide forever?" The femme retorted, smirking as always.

In a swift move, she tossed the first object her servos could reach toward the knight, creating a small diversion; it were just a few seconds, but it was enough to allow her to get close to the younger bot, kicking his left leg, sending him down in one knee. Fortunately for Drift, his reflexes allowed him to block the punch aimed for his head, and use the femme's momentum against her, making the huntress fall on her knees too. Then, as fast as he could, Drift grabbed her from behind, wrapping an arm around her neck, while holding her wrists with the other hand. And, for a moment, it seemed like he had won the fight; wouldn't it because the femme flared up her wings, slapping the knight's arm slightly away, and giving her a slight chance to escape. In no time, Slipstream was back on her feet, and aiming one of her rockets to Drift's face.

The mech, still on his knees, punched the fem-bot's arm away before she had the chance to shoot. Thanks to it, the missile hit the bedroom's door, creating a huge cloud of dust that filled the entire place, making the jet cough for a split second; meanwhile, the knight had rolled behind a table, turning it over to take cover. "I need a better angle, an opening…" He thought, looking around; trying to think of anything that may help him. His optics soon falling into his bedroom, remembering the small box within the wall… Biting his lip, he peeked above the table, Slipstream was still coughing, but it wouldn't last. He had to make his mind. Fast.

Cursing under his breath, the knight made his move: he tossed a dagger to make noise somewhere else, making the huntress turn the other way around; all of which earned him enough time to make a sprint to the bedroom, climb over the berth and grab the box. However, as soon as he had his servos on it, the sound of a blaster erupted in the room, right before a sharp pain filled his sensors, making him grunt and roll out of the berth.

The femme, meanwhile, remained at the doorframe, aiming at the spot which was being occupied by the former Con, instants ago. "It couldn't be that easy… Could it?" Slipstream narrowed her optics in suspicion. She knew she hit him, but… Deadlock was known for surviving worse; so there was no guarantee of whether he really went down or not. So, blaster still out, the femme took another step into the room and started to surround the berth; only to become face to face with a very pissed off mech, who counterattacked her with an old blaster. The impact was enough to make her take a step back and trip over a piece of rubble.

Next thing the knight knew, he had an unconscious man hunter in her bedroom…

The jet, slid down the wall, knocked out; and Drift allowed himself to sigh in utter relief, as he put away his old blaster and rose to his feet, moaning as his lateral articulator sent another wave of pain. Taking a look, the bot found a burn mark, showing the place where Slipstream hit him. He groaned and rolled his optics, cursing himself for his recklessness, before holding onto the berth and finally push himself off the floor. It hurt… It really hurt, but he didn't have much time. The fem-bot could become awake any minute. With a grunt, the mech went to look for something to tie the huntress. He would decide what his next move would be afterwards.

Slipstream's head was killing her, as she regained consciousness, moaning. The slowly coming back online systems were in max alert the moment in which she attempted to get up, realizing her hands were cuffed behind her back, and her ankles were tied together. Her optics shot open immediately, as she started to squirm a little, in hopes to break free; however, the moment her hands touched the pipe around which the cuffs were passed, the femme stopped, growling. She hated to do this, but her only choice right now, was to call for backup… Only to realize she couldn't.

"Don't bother" a male voice told her, suddenly.

The jet's purple eyes tracked the sound, finding Drift sitting atop his berth, legs crossed. He was staring down at her, burnt mark already buffed away. His teal optics shone bright in the room's darkness ―peeking in the window's direction, Slipstream could tell it was night already. The mech, noticing he had her attention, rose one of his hands revealing a jammer.

She smirked.

"Habits die hard, I suppose…" Slipstream commented, as he put the device away again.

He chuckled, humorlessly; bitterly, even.

"You were expecting to be found, weren't you, Deadlock?" asked the femme, scanning him from head to toe.

"Honestly? I'm surprised it took you this long. Were you even looking for me? 'Cause I wasn't actually hiding…" He rebuked, arching an eyebrow.

"We thought you were rusting at some planetoid by now." She admitted, looking away, feigning disinterest.

The mech smirked like his old self, as he leaned backwards, using his hands to support his upper body.

"Does Lockdown really think that little of me?" He questioned, cocking his head.

Slipstream simply shrugged, not giving a damn. Of course not, she never did. Whether he faded away at some space rock, or not, wasn't her problem.

The jet tugged at her chains again.

"You know, I'm not used to find myself in this sort of situation…" commented the femme, gesturing over her shoulder with her eyes. "I'm usually the one with the upper hand." She stated, relaxing and staring up at the mech with half closed optics.

"Your charm doesn't work with me, Slipstream. I know you, remember?" reminded her the mech, sitting straight again. "So why don't you cut the scrap and get to your point? That way you would save us both a lot of time." He added, getting on his feet.

She dropped her seductive act and simply glared at her captor, tensing up again. Her lips became one thin and straight line, indicating she wasn't going to cooperate in this interrogation; not that he expected her, though. He knew that his chances of getting any intel out of Slipstream were narrow, but he had to try anyway…

Nonetheless, as he took another glimpse at his chronometer, Drift decided that he didn't have much time to lose with his unrequired visitor. "Plan B" thought the mech, secretly turning off the scrambler. He knew she was bound to pick up the signal was gone, and that she would call for help. He was aware that there was, at least, one more hunter in the planet; and it was about time to bring him into the light too. So, keeping up his act, he simply sighed and walked out of the room… Leaving the jammer on the berth. Away from the femme's reach.

Slipstream blinked in surprise, optics coming from the ditched device to her retreating captor, and vice versa, before her processor actually coped up with the shift in the situation.

"Wait… You're abandoning me here?!" She yelled at the former hunter's back.

He stopped at the hole where the door used to be, and looked at her over his shoulder.

"You can't!"

"Oh?" He mused, turning to stare at her with a neutral face and an arched optic-ridge. "Then, those years when Lockdown left me on my own on a desert planet, hoping that I would finally burn away, must've been nothing but a dream." He retorted.

A soft and dark chuckle left his vocalizer, as the femme's glare intensified and her denta was clenched together. Smirking, he rolled his eyes and turned to leave again.

"Don't fret… I'll call the law enforcers as soon as I'm out of range. That would give you about… Five kliks to escape? Let's see if you're faster than them" told her the mech, as he walked out of her view. "I hope you enjoyed your visit!" He yelled, once he was at the front door, where he left his bag.

He closed the door behind him, making enough noise for his prisoner to hear, and stood there for a moment, activating a small communication device he had hidden, when tying Slipstream. "Now, let's see if she bit the bait…" thought the knight, as he walked away.

… … …

Jazz was glaring daggers at his data-pad, while slouching at his couch, Energon cube at hand's reach. It has been a whole day, and the knight was nowhere to be found; even with Prowl's help, monitoring the city cameras, the white and orange bot managed to dodge them all day. Growling, he tossed the pad onto the small table in front of the sofa and took off his visor to rub his optics. Then, putting it back on, he grabbed the cube and took a long sip at it. "Nobody has ever been this troublesome" thought the mech, remembering the old times, back when he was Third in Command. He was one of the few Special Ops officers who joined the Autobot cause; so it wasn't exactly a surprise when he was given the job of looking into the profiles, singling out the shady ones ―he had found more than one traitor, surrendering him to the proper authorities, a.k.a. Optimus. His knack at reading people helped on a daily basis too… He actually saved the others from a lot of headaches, by stopping the Terror Twins from pulling half of their pranks ―Sideswipe and Sunstreaker always shared this particular smirk when they were up to something, giving it all away; funny Prowl never noticed.

And, yet, when it came to Drift, he had no clue as what to expect. He thought he did, but now…

Sighing, he massaged his neck-wires, thrusting his head backwards in realization of how tense his frame was. "Everyone said it was a mistake… That I didn't choose my partners wisely" remembered the Polyhexian, lowering his hands, and going back to stare at the data-pad he just discarded. His optic-ridges frowned. "They don't know me, at all." Jazz told himself, getting up and grabbing the tablet in one swift move, immediately returning it to his subspace.

He had drove around the entire city looking for Drift that cycle; but, there was one place he hadn't have the chance to check yet, and it was the knight's apartment.

… … …

Prowl was working on his office, rereading some reports when an alarm went off. "An intruder!" Jumping off his seat, blasters out, the captain stormed out the door, finding his men already sweeping the building. Good. At least the protocols he implemented were working; but they hadn't found the trespasser yet. So, frowning, he masked and started to walk down the aisles. Unfortunately, every room he checked was empty…

"I don't get it. Who would be so stupid as to break into a police station? There's nothing valuable here, except-…" His optics widened in realization, as his head whipped toward one particular room: the archives! The only thing worth-stealing they had there were the files! Without hesitation, the law enforcer ran all the way to the storage, finding the door locked from inside. He struggled a few minutes with it, before growl and, taking a step back, blow the lock with his blaster; then, he kicked the door off its hinges.

The room was pitch black. Perfect for the intruder to prepare an ambush on him… "Too risky to go on my own…" He decided.

"Captain Prowl to all hands, meet me at the records, now." He called his subordinates, who soon appeared behind him.

Picking one to be his backup, the Praxian ordered everyone else to stay behind and cover the door. If anyone came out, and wasn't a law enforcer, they had orders to arrest said person immediately. Only then, he walked inside-…

And the lights turned on so suddenly, that he and his companion had to close their optics with a startled yelp; reason why, his only clue was a deaf noise above their heads. The vents! The guy was using the vents to escape! Immediately, he opened fire, but with no use. Growling, he ordered everyone to lock the ventilation system's exits and to find a way to flush the guy out. Also, he told some guys to wait on all probable escape routes; meanwhile, he would make sure nothing was missing.

Once his men left, Prowl took a look around, scanning the area. It was a mess, as if the robber was looking for something in particular. That's when he saw the red screen, indicating that the wrong password was tried far too many times. That activated the alarm… "At least he couldn't access our mainframe." He sighed in relief, and went to set the terminal back to normal. Once the screen was showing nothing but Iacon's law enforcers' shield, the middle Triplet started to scan the area.

Funny… Nothing was missing. What was the point of breaking into the station and take nothing?

Before he could come up with an answer, someone knocked him out from behind…

When Prowl reopened his optics, the first thing he noticed was the white, bright, rectangular light pending right atop of him; after a minute, he realized the ceiling and the walls weren't the same color as the precinct. Then, finally, the Praxian became aware that he was no longer at the archives room; in fact, he was on a stretcher, and a constant beeping was the only sound around, beside his own moans. The Middle Triplet didn't need to ask: he was at a clinic. His men probably found him lying unconscious and hurried to assist him…

Groaning, the law enforcer pushed himself to a sitting position, and touched the back of his head; immediately, the mech closed his optics, gritting his teeth at the sharp pain. Indeed, he had a dent. Whoever jumped him had a good arm.

"Why is it that, every single time slag happens, you end up in a clinic?" The rough voice of his older brother broke the monotony of the machinery.

Prowl looked up, locking gazes with the mint green mech, who was frowning at him, arms crossed; behind the imposing frame of X-Brawn, the Praxian got a glimpse of his younger brother's figure, Side Burn, who was watching him with worried eyes. The enforcer recognized the similarities between the current moment, and the one lived barely three stellar-cycles ago ―back when Ultra Magnus took him to Darkmount, where he was wounded by Skywarp. He couldn't blame his siblings to be on edge at the scene.

"Tough luck, I guess…" groaned the Middle Triplet, sliding his legs off the berth, trying to ignore the sharp pain on the base of his neck.

"You ok, bro?" Side Burn wondered, walking up to him and placing a servo over his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm good" nodded the other, trying to dedicate a smile to the youngest triplet to calm him down.

"So… What happened this time?" X-Brawn asked, arching an optic-ridge while cocking his head to the side.

The white and black mech started remembering the last few hours, telling his brothers about the intrusion at the precinct; something that caught the other two's attention, not following who would be stupid enough as to break into the police department. Prowl admitted he thought the same thing, shrugging his shoulders; only to quickly lower his head hissing, the pain on the back of his skull returning. "To make things worse, something tells me the bastard got away with whatever he-…" his train of thought derailed as he noticed the absence of a small device on his right forearm: his master key.

"Son of a-…!" The enforcer cursed, glaring at the missing part and making his brothers flinch at the sudden outburst.

"Prowl? What-…?" X-Brawn tried to ask, hurrying to the Middle Triplet's side.

Yet, he was promptly asked to stay silent for a minute as Prowl's com-link pinged with an incoming call. He truly hoped it was one of his subordinates saying they caught the intruder; unfortunately, it were more bad news…

«Prowl » Jazz's voice came through. «Ah know it's late, but… »

"If you're not using that stupid nickname, then it means it's urgent. What happened?" interrupted the Praxian, frowning a bit.

«Ah'm at Drift's place… Come o'er. Yah'll see… » Then, the Polihexian hung up.

… … …

A long discussion with the medics ―plus a wrestling with his brothers― after, Prowl was nearing the building where the knight's apartment was located; finding his Amica Endura already expecting him at the main entrance. Jazz was leaning against a wall, arms and ankles crossed, visor slightly dimmed and lips in a thin line. The white mech seemed to be lost in thoughts ―in a rather troublesome way he hadn't seen since the war. Not a good sign… Whatever happened, it couldn't be good.

Using his roof-lights to warn his friend of his arrival, the enforcer came to full stop and transformed; bending over a little bit, as he hissed and gripped his helm with a hand, gritting his teeth and closing his optics with fury.

"Yah ok?" asked the Polihexian, pushing himself off the wall, visor coming to its usual bright; voice-print showing his concern.

"Yes, just… A little incident with an intruder this afternoon." Prowl answered, doing his best to ignore the jabbing headache. "So, why am I here?" wondered out loud, straightening up.

"Follow meh" was Jazz's only answer, as he pointed to the building with a tilt of his head.

Both bots entered the complex, and went into the lifts in complete silence ―something that the Praxian's processor thanked, due to the pain―; that, plus the upside-down curve in the Special Ops' lips, told the Middle Triplet that the scrap he was about to step into was worse than he originally estimated. Question was what exactly he was getting into?

The moment in which the elevator stopped and opened, Jazz led them both to the apartment in question and opened the door for him to see. Prowl nodded and walked inside the place, immediately halting and noticing with a gasp why his friend wanted him there ASAP: clear signs of struggle; in fact, the place was a warzone. Furniture was turned over, there was blaster-fire marks all over the walls, and a giant hole leading to the main bedroom. "What in the name of Cybertron happened here?" wondered the enforcer as he took a few more steps inside, his processor already stablishing patterns of how it all happened, recreating the fight. Apparently, Drift came home, only to find an intruder waiting for him already… And considering what they've been dealing with in those past few cycles, Prowl had a pretty clear idea of whom might that be. So, frowning, he kept going, finally reaching the bedroom, where he found something unexpected: an abandoned jammer, and a pair of stasis-cuffs, which were passed around a pipe on a broken wall. Quirking an eyebrow, he couched next to this last thing.

"Already saw those" announced Jazz, entering the room and stepping behind his friend. "What Ah can't decide is whether those were used on Drift or his visitor…" He stated, looking away.

The Praxian studied the wall for a minute, passing his digits over some marks left on it.

"Drift's attacker" declared Prowl, getting up and turning to look at his friend who remained silent, expecting a further explanation. "The cuts on the wall tells me he did that." He explained, before turning to the hole again. "He overpowered the intruder and tied him up… Then severed all radio waves with the jammer-…"

"Preventing the sucker from calling for backup" completed the Prolihexian, receiving a nod. "He wanted time alone with the guy."

"He wanted to interrogate his attacker." The Middle Triplet agreed. "Jazz, I don't believe necessary telling you who irrupted into your man's house…" He added with a sigh, locking gazes with his Amica Endura.

"The hunters" agreed the white bot, sighing too. Accent gone. "They know we're after them."

"Not only that: they know Drift is helping us. They even found out where he's living." Prowl said, gesturing around, bringing up the obvious.

"Do you think this is why he's gone into hiding?"

The enforcer simply shrugged and shook his head, not entirely sure if this was the reason or not; nonetheless, he admitted that, if it were him instead of the knight, he would be on the run too. So, both mechs agreed on something: finding the missing warrior had to become their absolute priority right now; reason why Prowl announced he was going to call for reinforcements and process the room ―maybe the attacker left something behind, revealing its identity. The Special Ops agreed with a sigh, recognizing his friend had more resources than him at the moment; however, he did ask the Praxian to be careful, and to keep this investigation on the DL.

Last thing they needed right now was Flux getting wise about their association being still active.

The enforcer nodded, agreeing, and advising his friend to go back home; that he would deal with this with upmost care. The Polihexian thanked his Amica Endura and did as told.

By the time he returned to his own place, it was almost dawn, and he was starting to feel tired. "Drift… What have you gotten into?" He wondered with a half-sigh, half-yawn, as he reached for his house's door… Only to find a small package attached to it; one that wasn't there when he left. Quirking an optic-ridge, he made a quick scan of it with the few tools he carried in his subspace. Just an old holographic projector. "What in the name of the Primes…?" Still confused, he decided to take his chances and, grabbing the projector, turned it on.

… … …

From the building right across the street, Drift watched as the white Polihexian entered his house with something in his hand. He saw it… Good. Now they would know who they needed to watch out for; his job was done. "Time to disappear" thought the knight, picking up his bag and walking away, before the Special Ops decided to start looking around for clues. There was no doubt in his mind that the white mech would spot him, miles away.

The only thing he could hope for, now, was for his new friends to forgive and understand his actions afterwards…

If everything went according to plan…

After all, if it didn't…

With a sneer, he entered the elevator and pressed the ground button, before noticing the mirror on the back of the cabin. Suddenly, his own reflection seemed to startle him; as if he was expecting something else… Someone else. Lowering his gaze to stare at the floor he mused about how much he had changed, and whether that was a good or bad thing right now. He didn't regret it. Far from it! But, if he was going to go toe to toe with Lockdown and the others… Would one knight be enough? He didn't like the prospect of it, yet, if he had to be honest with himself, he couldn't go to those coordinates as Drift. He knew that already. He knew, the moment he decided to go down this road again.

Gritting his teeth, the white and orange mech closed his optics, frowning deeply. He already stated he wasn't that person anymore; however, if he wanted to survive, he would have to resource to some old tricks… As much as it pained him.

When the doors pinged open, Drift looked up, glaring at his own reflection. The echoes from a distant past showing in the image, as he turned to leave.

Deadlock was back.

… … …

Prowl was at his house, still massaging the back of his head which still troubled him from time to time. The medics said he got hit pretty hard, and made him all kind of funny tests while he was out cold in order to measure the real damage, but the Praxian was sure that, other than a nasty dent that would need some time to heal, nothing seemed nor felt out of place. However, the doctors told him to avoid stressful situations for a while, stating that his processor may shut down when dealing with big shocks. According to them, the damage was only temporary, but, still… It would be for the best if he just took a few days off, and gave his head time to heal. "As if I had such thing" was thinking the law enforcer, rereading some reports from the attack on the station. He was determined to find his missing key. After all, that device granted full access to everything stored under the Iacon's Police Department's authority.

He was in the middle of a security feed, when someone knocked at his door, making him rise his door-wings in max alert. He wasn't expecting anyone…

"It's meh" stated the voice from the outside.

The Middle Triplet visible relaxed, letting go a vent he didn't realize he was holding; then got up to open the door. Quickly, he closed all the files he was working on, and got to his feet.

That's when he had to grab onto the desk when a sudden dizziness got him; just as last night, when he answered to Jazz's distress call. Part of him was sure that his Amica Endura had noticed something was wrong with him already, yet, he couldn't bring himself to admit it. "It's only temporary. Nothing to actually worry about" reminded himself the cop as he let go of the hard surface and resumed his steps.

With yet another sigh, the white and black bot opened his front door… And his friend went straight to the computer he was using just now, and connected something to it, not even exchanging a word with the Praxian.

"Oh, sure, go ahead; make yourself at home" complained the Middle Triplet, arching an optic-ridge while he still holding the door open.

"Sorry, Prowler, but Imma bit overcharged" apologized the investigator.

"Noticed" commented Prowl as he locked his house's entrance and went to his friend's side. "So, care to share why are you invading my home?" He asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head.

"Not 'invading'. Yah opened."

"And didn't even get the chance to invite you in." The enforcer retorted with narrowed optics, stressing the 'invite' part. "Plus, I'm leaving for my workplace in less than a joor, Jazz. So this better be good."

"It is." The Polihexian shot back, frowning behind his visor, while holding his friend's gaze for an entire klik, before going back to what he was doing. Then, he released a held back vent. "Look, last night when Ah came home, there was a projector taped' tah mah door. Not mine. Ah know mah stuff, ok?" He started explaining, waiting for a small nod from his companion to ensure he had the mech's attention. "So, Ah checked it out and…" The Polihexian bit his lip and averted his visor, while considering his next words carefully. "Prowl, I think Drift left this for me."

The enforcer said nothing, but his face spoke volumes: optics wide, blinking blankly, mouth slightly open; plus, his door-wings quivered a little bit. Jazz, on the other hand, limited himself to nod.

"How're you so sure?" Finally asked the Middle Tripplet, arching an optic-ridge and dropping his arms.

As to prove his point, the Polihexian reproduced the recording for both of them. Prowl got closer to his friend's side, his attention fully on the holographic performance in front of him.

The first thing he noticed was a femme, a jet ―judging by the wings― tied down to the pipes they found exposed the night before, at the knight's bedroom. She was grunting, wiggling on the spot with her hands behind her back, glaring over her shoulders, when the sound of glass shattering made her look toward the door. Shortly after another bot, a mech entered the small room and stood on his guard, assessing the situation. He was different in a less than pleasing way: the extra legs on his back, plus the battle-mask that looked like fangs indicated it was a beast-former. This was the Eukarian they were looking for.

«Took you long enough! I sent the distress signal nearly half joor ago! » complained the femme, frowning deeply, glaring daggers at her… Rescuer?

Ignoring the acid comment, the mech simply shook his head and went to assist his partner, kneeling next to her, his back to the camera.

«In case you didn't notice, I was busy » He shot back with a slightly husky voice. He let out a grunt as he struggled with the chains. «Considering the sights: he got away, didn't he? » The Eukarian mocked his companion, right before a metallic sound was heard and the femme brought her hands to her front. She was free.

At this point, Prowl started to understand why Jazz was convinced this was a message from Drift: the knight was warning them. This was his way to let them know who the hunters were… And that they did come after him.

«Don't patronize me, Tarantulas! I didn't see you being too eager to fight him… » The jet rebuked, getting on her feet.

«I had another mission » stated the mech, shrugging and following her movements with his visor. He was yet crouched, though.

«And how did that go? Do you have it? » The femme asked, frowning, massaging her wrists.

Tarantulas reached for a compartment hidden on his tight.

«It was a bit troublesome, though… The entire data base needed a special key. I had to take down the enforcers' captain. » He stated… Showing the key that was ripped out from Prowl's forearm.

The Praxian couldn't help himself and cursed the beast-former out loud realizing this was the guy who knocked him unconscious, the one who trespassed his precinct. The question, however, remained: why? What were they expecting to find? What was the information they needed?

The jet from the video nodded, satisfied with this.

«So, now what? » The femme asked, turning to face her companion, hands on her hip.

«Now, I decrypt the database, while you find and destroy Deadlock, before he gets another shot. » Tarantulas stated, rising to his feet too, putting away the stolen key.

The female arched an optic-ridge.

«Another shot? What're you-…? »

«He's on alert now, moron. Do you honestly think this will be the last we'll see of him? He probably knows Lockdown sent you, or, at least, he must be guessing so… » thought the man hunter out loud, crossing his arms and looking away. «You must warn him. » He stated, turning to leave.

«And why, exactly, is it my duty? » She questioned, tensing her wings and crossing her arms.

«Because you let him go, Slipstream. »

The video, then, stopped abruptly. Obviously, Drift was still around the place, watching them the whole time; only after he saw the two hunters abandoning the premises, he retrieved the hidden camera and edited the feed for them to analyze it. Jazz turned the projector off, and grabbed it before turning to lock gazes with his Amica Endura. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and, no doubt, his optic-ridges were furrowed behind his visor.

Prowl, on the other hand, was lost in thoughts, reviewing the images within his mind, trying to see small details within it. First off: the names. The knight made sure the names appeared within that footage. Second: they talked about warning someone that Drift got wise of their return; that means…

"He's not running…" muttered the law enforcer.

"Come again?" asked Jazz, not sure if his friend was talking to him or to himself, as he usually did when in deep thought.

"Drift." Prowl said, now locking gazes with his companion. "Think about it: last night, you thought that the attack was the reason why he suddenly went off the grid. You said it yourself, that he might be on the run, looking for a place to hide. This proves otherwise." He stated, pointing at the device brought in by the Polyhexian. "He's not running, he's going after them." He explained.

The white mech averted his visor, showing his friend that he already thought of that as soon as he saw the recording.

But, besides that, he came to the Praxian's house for another matter; one he didn't know how to express, because he already knew the answer. He was well aware that Prowl hated whenever he asked this sort of things, but he didn't have many more options left… Plus, none of his other plans would be so effective, so his mind was made already.

Unfortunately, thanks to the prolonged silence, the white and black mech started getting suspicious; so, with an arched optic-ridge, he called his companion's name drawling the sounds and narrowing his optics. The Special Ops locked gazes with him again, lips trying to form a lopsided smirk. "Oh, no…" He knew that face. He knew it far too well.

"No." The Middle Triplet stated, flatly, tensing his door-wings.

"Yah don't even know what Imma 'bout to-…"

"I don't need to, Jazz! Because I know you!" He retorted, matter-of-factly, gesturing at the shorter mech with both hands on the last part. "And because the last time you asked me one of your infamous favors, we both ended up surrounded by a Decepticon battalion at Helex! For a quartex! We almost got declared MIA!"

"But we didn't." Jazz reminded his friend, triumphantly smiling, even daring to tilt his head to the side.

"Because of my brothers knowing my spark was still pulsing!" The other bot shot back, shoulders tensing up. "Whatever it is, the answer is no." He finally stated, and turned toward the door. He had to leave for his job, meaning that Jazz had to go too.

However, his Amica Endura caught him by the arm and explained himself better: he was aware of what Drift's intentions were now, just as much as the Praxian; and, even more, he knew there was no way to stop the knight. It was obvious that he did, in fact, had information on the hunters which he refused to part with; probably that was the reason why those two were sent after him. And, since they didn't manage to terminate Drift, there were only two options: either this Lockdown-character would come personally to finish the job… Or the knight would go and face his former partners, once and for all. And he was fearing that the second option sounded more viable than the first…

Prowl arched an eyebrow, turning to look at his friend.

"And what evidence do you have of it?" He asked.

"Before calling you I took a look around the apartment, last night. There was an empty box in a corner, and there was no money to be found on the premises. Nor fuel." He started listing, accent completely gone.

"He's preparing to make a trip…" considered the law enforcer, absently, as he narrowed his optics and frowned, crossing his arms in deep thought.

Jazz nodded.

"And since we know he's not running…"

"He's going after the leader himself." Prowl admitted, optics wide, turning to lock gazes with his friend once again. "That would be-…"

"Suicidal? I know. I've been investigating the name Lockdown, and it's not good… He was a mercenary long before the war, and led the men hunters ever since the conflict started. Nobody, ever, challenged him." The Special Ops informed, before shaking his head. "I need to stop him, Prowl. Before he's out of reach."

"And how, exactly, are you planning to find him? Nobody's aware of his coordinates ever since the attack; and if you could still track him, then we wouldn't be having this conversation at all…" The white and black mech stated the obvious, hands on the sides of his hip.

"I know he needs to get off planet, but can't use the… Appropriate ways; otherwise a report would be send my way, and he doesn't want that. So, there's only one other way for him to get his hands on a ship without me finding out." The Polyhexian insinuated, smiling at the realization in his companion's face.

"The black market."

Jazz nodded.

"And that's when you get in: I need you to tell X-Brawn to back off, and to look away for a bit."


What do you think will happen now? Will they find Drift on time? Will the knight outrun his friends? What will become of Slipstream and Tarantulas now that they were discovered? One thing is for sure: I'm not telling! Not for now, at least...

Hope you liked this chapter!

See ya next time!