Chapter 1
Prime charged into the control room, rifle drawn. "Prowl, sta…" He trailed off in shock, optics wide. "Oh Primus, no." He twisted around and yelled to the approaching Autobots. "Ratchet, get in here, NOW!"
The medic quickly arrived, emergency kit in hand. "Outta my way." He barked, shoving Optimus aside. Ratchet knelt beside the downed Autobot and gently rolled him onto his back, heedless of the pool of energon and fluids surrounding the mech.
Ironhide, Wheeljack and the twins arrived just in time to see Ratchet suddenly recoil in shock before diving into his work. "Wheeljack, gimme a hand!" He ordered. The other Autobots came closer as the engineer and the medic started trading rapid fire medical jargon.
"What happened?" Prime demanded. Ratchet struggled with Prowl's blackened chest plate, tearing at the clasps for a moment before they finally gave way. "Looks like a single shot, point blank range, standard issue laser pistol. It just skimmed above his spark chamber, otherwise we'd be having a funeral right now." The CMO grunted and swore viscously, pulling away the charred wiring and internal components while Wheeljack deftly spliced in emergency power packs and crimped shut the leaking tubes and fuel lines.
"But…who?" Sideswipe asked, warily scanning the room for any possible threats.
"An assassin, hit-mech, or just someone who would want Prowl dead." His twin replied coldly. "Looks like they botched it royally though."
"For which I am very thankful." Optimus rumbled, optics dark with outrage. "Sideswipe, Sunstreaker. Stay with Prowl at all times. If whoever it was finds out that Prowl is still alive, they will try again. Ironhide, raise the Ark to full combat alert and call in all patrols."
"Will do, Prahme." The older mech replied, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. "Ah can't wait t' git mah hands on th' lil' glitch responsible fer this."
"Neither can I." The Prime replied.
0o0o0
The atmosphere was bleak as remaining officers assembled in the briefing room. Ratchet and Wheeljack were still in the OR with Prowl, the twins maintaining watchful vigil over them. Spike and Sparkplug were also there, lending their skills to the CMO.
The door slid open and Jazz limped in, his face uncharacteristically grim. "Sorry, got a double blow out on th' way in from patrol an' had t' hoof it." He apologised, taking his seat at the long table.
"Understandable." Prime replied. "What have you found so far?" He asked of Red Alert.
"Nothing." The officer frowned, deeply upset that someone had managed to circumvent his painstakingly monitored security net. "Whoever it was used a data disk to download a virus into the sensor grid. It's wiped all sensor and internal tracking information from the past 24 hours up to the point where we were able to stop it. Anyone could have gotten in! Anyone! "
"Easy Red Alert, we're locked up tight. If anyone was still here, we'd know." Prime soothed the increasingly jittery mech.
"Wouldn't Teletran 've logged th' transponder o' th' user who input th' data disk?" Jazz queried.
Red Alert shook his head. "No. Whoever it was, they used Prowl's hand to touch the controls. Teletran only recorded his signature." He explained.
"Where was Prowl shot?" Jazz queried.
Ironhide tossed a datapad over the table. "Upper chest. Th' shot just skimmed his laser core."
The Special Ops officer skimmed over the data for a minute. "Seems t' me like this ain't an assassination." He commented.
"How so?" Prime asked.
"Well, th' sensible shot woulda been here," Jazz pointed to his forehead, just above his visor, "instant kill. A chest shot is easier t' mess up. Maybe t' kill wasn't th' intent. Perhaps we should rig somethin' t' make it look like Prowl died o' his injuries. That might draw this dude outta hidin'."
"It is something to consider." Optimus mused, rubbing the bottom of his mask in thought.
"What Ah still wanna know is who did it." Ironhide announced. "Th' sensors were fine 'fore this all happened. If a Con came even close we'd 'a known about it. Th' only other option is that one o' us did it, an' there ain't no Autobot here who would even think o' hurtin' Prowl."
"There is Bombshell to consider." Perceptor quietly suggested. An instant hush fell on the room as the occupants considered the unpleasant connotations of such an event.
Jazz spoke first. "Mirage has a knack fer recoverin' data." He said. "I'll get him on lookin' though an' seein' if he can dredge anythin' up. An' I'll have Bumblebee quietly go 'round an' verify where everyone was b'fore an' after th' shooting."
"And Ah'll supervise th' searchin' o' th' crime scene." Ironhide volunteered.
"Good. There is one last matter to clarify." Prime said, giving everyone at the table a close look. "If there are any Autobots implicated in this event, that information does not leave this room. Clear? Good, dismissed."