Finding Home
Chapter 46
By Voodoo Queen
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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! So happy to be back and so soon! I promise I'm not abandoning this story. I'm too invested in it to give up! I hope you all enjoy the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Hopefully, I'm able to get back to my regular, quick updates soon. I've read back over the entire story and there's lots of little breadcrumbs I dropped in there that, if you can put them together, may tell you what's coming in the next few chapters! Some really big hints are hidden in this one...and they may not be glaringly obvious. Any guesses? I thank you all so much for your patience and understanding. Thank you to those who've added this story to their faves and follows and especially to my fantastic reviewers who never fail to bring a smile to my face: SkyenhaMarisa, monkeybaby, MayTylers, Sirenix Prime, KEZZ 1, 'Guests', jellybeanz513, SolusPrimeLightblast, poppycakes, Starimus Prime, guadadominguez4, SoundlyManners, 'Anonymous', LaurenA007, Jaxrond, MissBish, leitheoir, PepperCornPie, KayleeChiara, deborah-sucks, Brianna
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.
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Something was terribly wrong and everyone knew it.
The Cheyenne Mountain Complex and the Pueblo Chemical Depot in Colorado, Edwards Air Force Base in California, the Dugway Proving Ground in Utah...all highly secured military installations and all hit with some sort of rogue seismic activity strong enough to cause some pretty serious sinkholes in the areas and moderate structural damage. Given the strangeness of the seismic readings and the significance of the locations it was agreed that natural causes were most likely far down the list of probable culprits. In response to a request from NEST, a team from the US Geological Survey had been dispatched along with a Special Forces Strike Team to the sites and, in turn, confirmed what Optimus Prime had feared when Petty Officer Doe had first brought the strange seismogram from Pueblo to his attention.
The USGS team had reported back the presence of "fresh tunneling" beneath the facilities. They'd traversed the subterranean tunnels as far as they dared, not finding the cause, but determining that whatever had been there had capabilities far beyond that known to modern mining and excavation as it had apparently powered through both soil and solid stone at a highly alarming rate of speed. It was all the confirmation Prime needed. An emergency meeting was held with the DoD which resulted in defense readiness being raised from DEFCON 4 to DEFCON 3 which meant a lot of anxious military personnel waiting in the wings for the word they were being deployed.
And it was only Wednesday.
Even though there'd been no official confirmation, the consensus between those in the higher echelons of the Defense Department, NEST, and the Autobots was that the Decepticons were systematically searching for what remained of the Allspark by seeking out the areas where the believed it most likely to be residing. Diego Garcia had immediately become a flurry of activity as security and defense measures were beefed up to the max. The fact that the enemy was searching for the shard half a world away did little to quell anyone's anxiety...Amy's included.
Since Monday, she'd practically been living in the bunker, barely leaving to eat and sleep before throwing herself back into her duties. Every scrap of intel they received had to be parsed and analyzed. On more than one occasion she'd found herself literally thanking the heavens for Teletraan because the sheer volume of information would have surely swamped her delicate human sensibilities otherwise. She wasn't sure of the particulars of what was happening back home in the States, tied to the monitors and the constant relaying of information as she was, but she'd heard some chatter. To say it had her insides tied up in knots would have been an understatement.
She hit 'enter' on her keyboard, sending the latest batch of data she'd compiled from the systems that hadn't yet been integrated into Teletraan to the giant alien super computer for analysis. She pushed herself away from her desk, stood, and stretched her arms over her head, feeling some of the tension she'd been carrying in her shoulders release. A tired sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed her eyes with the heals of her hands. Her stomach rumbled. A quick glance at her watch told her she'd worked through chow. Feeling slightly disappointed at missing out on a hot meal, she dug a chocolate chip granola bar out of one of her drawers instead.
Tossing the wrapper into the trash as she passed, she took a bite out of the bar and made her way down the stairs. She'd been glued to her desk since at least 0500 with only brief trips back and forth between the monitor room and desperately needed to stretch her legs. She headed out of the office, turning left into the corridor, and made her way towards the space that housed Teletraan where she knew Jazz and Prowl to currently be. Finding the two mechs huddled close together around one of the computer's enormous screens, no doubt scrutinizing the data for anything they may have missed. She paused for a moment, not wanting to interrupt.
"Still no ID?" Jazz's question carried out into the hallway.
"Nothing official," came Prowl's tense response. "The USGS team sent back footage of the tunnels. Based on those images, Prime is fairly certain we're looking at a Driller. I must say that I'm in agreement."
Jazz made a sound of anger. "Shockwave," he almost growled.
"As I said," Prowl reiterated, "its not been made official but, yes, it's seeming more likely than not. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what that could mean for our campaign."
Feeling as though she were eavesdropping, tentatively, Amy cleared her throat, drawing both mechs' attention. "Sorry...I'm not bothering, am I?"
"Never," Jazz assured, his tense features relaxing back into a good natured grin. "Come on in, scraplet."
Prowl gave the woman a nod of recognition, "Miss Doe."
Jazz studied his charge as she drew closer, "I thought you'd went to grab some lunch."
Amy shrugged, "I accidentally worked though it." She raised what was left of her granola bar. "It's ok, though. I broke into my stash."
Prowl made a quiet noise, drawing Amy's attention. "Not to overstep my place," the mech began, "I'm no medic but, given your condition, I'd assume adequate nutrition is paramount for continued good health."
"Prowlers right, scraplet," Jazz agreed. "Ya gotta eat more than that."
"I know," Amy sighed. "With everything going on, I was 'in the zone', I guess. I'll eat a big dinner. I promise." Curious and eager to change the subject, she asked, "What are you guys working on? Anything I can help with? I'm finished with the data packets."
Prowl raised a brow plate. "Already?"
Amy nodded in affirmation.
"I'm tellin' ya," Jazz chuckled, "she's a beast on that keyboard. I couldn't be more proud."
"I see," the corners of the SIC's mouth ticked up almost imperceptibly. "Quite impressive."
Amy blushed slightly at the compliment.
"To answer your question, though," Jazz vented, once again looking perplexed, "I think we've done pretty much all we can for the time bein'. We've implemented all the tools we have at our disposal and now we just have to stay vigilant. Keep an eye on the intel we have comin' in and keep the Big Boss updated."
"Right," Amy nodded. "That, I can do."
Jazz grinned once more, "I have all the confidence in the world."
"Speaking of keeping the boss updated," Prowl cleared his vocal processor. "Jazz and I should probably head back up top and catch up with Optimus. We need to prepare for the debrief we're scheduled to have with General Moreshower and the SecDef later this afternoon." He cut his gaze to Amy, looking more serious than she had seen him in some time. "Should there be any change in status or if any new information becomes available, I need you to forward it immediately to either Jazz or myself."
"Yes, sir," Amy quickly agreed. "I absolutely will."
With a nod of thanks, Prowl turned to exit the space. "Jazz?"
"Right behind ya, Prowler," the TIC answered. Then, to Amy, "Call me of ya need me, scraplet."
"I will," Amy promised.
She watched the mechs exit the space. Prowl moving much slower than he normally would on his own in order to compensate for Jazz's impaired mobility. Once they'd left, she turned and spent a moment simply watching the strains of data that passed over Teletraan's monitors. The strange, alien language made of glyphs and symbols that Amy was sure she'd never understand was almost hypnotizing as it scrolled over the screens. Idly, she wondered if she could convince either Jazz or the twins to teach her a word or two in their language.
Quickly shaking off the thought, she sighed and did an about face, intent on heading back to the office and burying herself back in her work. As she palmed the doors closed behind her, cutting off the deep hum of the ancient computer, she became aware of another, much subtler sound. For a moment, she actually thought she was imagining it, straining her ears until she heard it again. It was like a soft hydraulic whine, just loud enough that her ears could pick up the direction it seemed to be coming from. She took a couple slow steps toward the opposite end of the junction—toward where the Allspark shard was being housed and paused. She stood completely motionless, listening carefully, and heard the strange noise once more.
"What the hell is that," she muttered herself as she walked slowly in the direction of the containment unit.
The first and last time she'd been in the room housing the ancient alien relic had been with Jazz. Since then, she'd tried her best to forget the thing was down in the bunker with them. Honestly, it creeped her out more than a little bit. In fact, she did her best to avoid this end of the corridor altogether if she could help it. She was more than happy to let the bots deal with their mysterious, magical hunk of metal and leave her out of it. Circumstances being as they were, her being the only soul in the place, she figured it fell to her to check out any strange creaks or groans.
She came to a halt right outside of the heavy doors that sealed the Allspark away from the rest of the world. Again, the strange noise—almost a grinding sound this close up— reached her ears. She realized it was definitely coming from inside the space. She eyed the door panel warily, wondering if she should take a peek inside. The heebie-jeebies she got just thinking about it knocked that option right out of the park. Instead, she pressed her palms against the metal door, shivering slightly at the extreme coldness against her skin that was no doubt attributable to the internal cooling system. She could have sworn that she felt the relic in there just beyond the barrier that separated them, as if it knew she was out there. She didn't dwell on that thought too long, however, as the grinding/whining came once more.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, she pressed her ear up against the door and listened. As the noise came again, she racked her brain trying to figure out what could be causing it. So engrossed she was, that she failed to notice that she was no longer as alone in the bunker as she had been.
"What the frag are you doing, Squishie?"
"Jesus!" Amy jumped back from the door, her hand flying up to her rapidly beating heart as she spun around to find both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looking down at her curiously. She laughed softly in relief. "You guys scared the crap out of me."
"No slag," the yellow front liner deadpanned.
"What were you doing, sweetspark," Sides asked curiously.
"Oh, um," Amy, slightly embarrassed, waved a hand toward the door. "I, uh, I thought I heard something, um...in there."
Sides looked towards the door, "what did it sound like?"
Amy's brow furrowed as she tried to explain, "kind of like a cross between a dental drill and a lawnmower."
Sunny raised a brow plate, "Did you look to see what was making it?"
Amy wrung her hands together. "Um, no." She took a deep breath and admitted, "It kind of gives me the creeps to go in there."
Sunstreaker eyed the woman amusedly, "Don't tell me you're scared of a piece of fragging space junk..."
She looked sheepishly up at the mech and shrugged.
Sides offered, "Want us to take a look?"
Relieved, Amy brightened, "You don't mind?"
"Anything for you," Sideswipe teased.
"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "Out of the way, Squishie."
Amy happily scurried out of the brothers' way as they approached the door. She moved to press herself against the wall, out of the line of sight of the doorway. If she couldn't see the thing, maybe it couldn't see her either. A ridiculous thought, she scolded herself. She focused on the twins, watching as the pair paused at the doors, growing eerily still for a moment as they listened intently to anything that may have been going on inside, much as she had been doing when they'd sneaked up on her.
Sunstreaker narrowed his optics, head tilted attentively as his audios worked to hone in on anything out of the ordinary. He looked over to his twin, "You hear anything?"
Sides shook his head, "Nope, nothing."
"Me either." Straightening himself to his full height, the mech jerked his head toward the door panel. "Open it up."
Sideswipe followed his brother's instruction, keying in the security code and causing the doors to roll back on their tracks and grant them access to the space. Frigid air rushed out to greet them, causing Sunstreaker to curse under his breath as he stepped inside.
"Be careful," Amy called after them in warning.
Sides paused long enough before following his brother to wink at her, "Back in a second, sweetspark."
Amy fidgeted nervously. She could hear the twins moving about inside the space. Occasionally, she'd hear the pair exchange words but they were spoken so softly that she wasn't able to make them out. It was what she didn't hear that made her wonder, though. It seemed that the strange sound had ceased along with the twins arrival. They weren't screaming or yelling or shooting at anything and so she figured the situation inside couldn't have been too bad.
After what seemed like another long moment, the pair emerged.
Amy looked at them expectantly, "Anything?"
Sideswipe shook his head as he reengaged the door lock. "We didn't hear anything. We checked all the gauges and the containment seals. I'm no expert but, everything seems to be working like it's supposed to."
Amy nibbled her lip, "What about the Allspark?"
Sunstreaker shrugged, "Crumpled up piece of tinfoil looks exactly the same as it did when we packed it up to ship it here. I don't know what you heard," the mech continued, "but it's quiet in there now."
"Maybe have Jazz get a couple contractors down here to inspect the ventilation," Sideswipe suggested, turning to the woman. "They did put this thing together in a hurry."
Amy mulled that over for a moment and nodded, "Yeah, you're right. I'll definitely do that." She smiled at the mechs. "Thanks for looking."
"Anytime, Squishie." Sunny teased. "We can check under the berth for Decepticons later, if you want us to."
"Ha, ha..." Amy couldn't help but snort at her own irrational paranoia of the alien antiquity as the trio made their way back toward the office. "Sorry...I really don't know what it is about the thing but it seriously makes my skin crawl." She involuntarily shivered and quickly sought to change the subject, "I thought they had you guys running drills with Bumblebee."
"We were," Sides confirmed. "Ironhide had us knock off early. There's some big meeting going on later with the Secretary of Defense that all senior personnel are supposed to attend."
"And it doesn't get much more senior than Ironhide's rusty aft," Sunny grumbled.
Amy snickered and nodded as they neared the office. "Yeah, Jazz and Prowl headed up to prep for it just a few minutes before you guys got here."
"We bumped into them," Sideswipe commented as they stepped inside the space. "Jazz said you missed lunch so..."
Amy paused in her climb back up the stairs and spun around to look up at the pair. "Don't tell me you two came all the way down here to bring me food. I told Jazz I was fine."
"Not entirely," Sides answered with a grin. "Sunny has something he wanted to give you and I really just tagged along to say hi."
Amy cut her eyes over to the yellow twin. The mech in question appeared to suddenly find the floor interesting as he rubbed at the bridge of his nasal plates with the forefinger of his right hand.
"But," Sides shooed her the rest of the way up the stairs. "Food first, Ames."
Reluctantly, Amy continued the climb to her desk where, upon inspection, she found a paper bag containing a turkey sandwich, a pack of ruffled potato chips, an apple, and a bottle of raspberry tea. Apparently, the mechs had hit up the mobile canteen.
"Thanks," she smiled softly as she sat down to eat. "You didn't have to."
Sideswipe shrugged, "We're happy to do what we can for you, sweetspark."
The trio made small talk as Amy ate her lunch. Given recent developments, they hadn't had much time together over the last couple days. Someone was always either coming or going and, more often than not, the time they were able to be together was spent catching up on much needed rest. That they were even able to steal this time had been a minor miracle. They made the most of it, however, and eventually the conversation circled back around to the current unease on the base.
"Hey," Amy asked curiously, "do you guys know who Shockwave is?"
Sides looked slightly taken aback, "Where'd you hear that designation, Ames?"
Amy crumpled up her now empty lunch bag and tossed it in the garbage. "I overheard Prowl and Jazz talking. Prowl was saying Optimus thought the seismic activity was being caused by some drill thing..."
"A Driller," Sunstreaker interrupted, his features twisted into what Amy could only describe as hate.
"Yeah..." she hesitantly nodded. "Jazz seemed pretty upset about it, too, and said something about Shockwave being here."
The twins grew quiet, each seemingly lost for a moment in their own thoughts.
Amy looked between the pair, her brow furrowing with worry, "And I'm assuming that this is a very bad thing?"
Sideswipe vented, "It's definitely not good."
"He's Megatron's Military Operations Commander," Sunny growled. "Last we heard, Megs had left the fragger in charge of whatever's left of Cybertron."
"He's bad news, Ames." Sideswipe confirmed, "if he's here, that means Megs is planning something big."
Worry creased Amy's forehead. "What makes this guy so special as opposed to, let's say...Starscream?"
"Screamers a fragging loudmouth kite," Sunstreaker cursed. "Too full of himself to be a real threat on his own. Megatron has him whipped...literally...and keeps him on a pretty short leash. Shockwave, though," the mech snarled. "He's cold and mechanical glitch. One of the few Decepticons who could take Megatron on and win if he really wanted to...and Megs knows it."
"He's smarter than your average Decepticon," Sides provided, tapping the side of his head with his finger. "Scary smart...all logic and no emotion. He used to be a scientist."
"Scientist, my aft," Sunstreaker interjected. He looked pointedly at Amy. "His lab in Kaon was infamous. Political opponents, dissenters against the Decepticon governing body, and Autobot POWs were sent there exclusively to be experimented on. Rumor has it that the fragger was reformatting them and turning them into weapons for the Decepticon Army."
"Oh my God...that's terrible!" Amy shuddered, bringing her hand to her mouth in horror. The mech sounded like a real,life Dr. Frankenstein. Fear for her planet gnawed at her gut, but mostly for those she cared about who'd be forced to confront this new danger they'd thought long left behind them on a planet far away should it choose to rear its head.
"Ames," Sideswipe, as if plucking her thoughts from the air, bent over the railing to press his forehead to hers. "It's nothing for you to worry about. We've squared off against Shockwave before and always come out on top. If he is here, we'll handle it." He gently brushed his nasal plates against her nose. "If anything, we have more motivation to send him to the Pit than we've ever had before."
"But-" Amy began to protest.
"But nothing," Sunny interrupted. "If that fragger shows his ugly face plates here, he's a dead mech. End of story."
"See?" Sides pulled back and grinned at the woman. "Sunny's on it. There's nothing to worry about."
Looking less than convinced, Amy nodded. "Yeah, okay..."
"Speaking of Sunshine here," Sideswipe swiftly changed the subject, chuckling at the angry glare his brother gave him at the use of the hated nickname. "He's been slaving away in secret and can't wait to share with you the fruit of his labor."
That seemed to perk Amy up and draw her out of her dark thoughts as she turned her attention to the yellow twin. Curiously, she asked, "Really? What is it?"
"And that," Sideswipe clapped his brother on the back jovially, "is my cue to leave." As he backed his way to the door, he gave Amy and his brother cheeky grin, "You crazy kids behave yourselves and I'll see you at home later. Love ya, sweetspark!"
With that, the mech was gone leaving Sunstreaker and Amy alone in the space.
Amy gazed up at the mech expectantly. "So...?"
"Right," Sunstreaker looked at the woman for another long moment before venting and retreating back towards Jazz's desk.
Amy watched as he retrieved a large, flat object that had completely escaped her notice. Most likely due to the fact that the majority of her attention had been directed towards the mechs. Whatever it was, it appeared to be roughly the same size and dimensions of a standard house door, though perhaps slightly wider. With little to no fanfare, the mech lifted the mysterious package over the railing and propped it against the wall within her reach.
She looked between Sunny and the veiled object. "Can I...?"
Sunstreaker shrugged one shoulder. "It's your's. You can do whatever you want with it."
With a current of nervous excitement and more than a little curiosity coursing through her, Amy smiled softly at the mech and then moved to grasp the bottom of the sheet. In one quick motion, she flipped the sheet up and stepped back to take in what was revealed.
She was by no means an expert on art but the painting in front of her was exquisite. She'd seen less impressive works hanging in the halls of the Chrysler Museum back in Norfolk. Metallic blues and silvers and grays swirled and blended together into a turbulent, alien sea that churned against a jagged, rust-colored shore the likes of which Amy couldn't even begin to compare. A strange, twilightesque sky stretched above, cloudless, but dotted with stars from a place far beyond what she was able to comprehend. Meticulous brushstrokes had created such an illusion of realism that Amy could have sworn she could hear the crashing of the waves if she listened hard enough. It was, in short, breathtaking and she was so enthralled by the piece that she was slightly startled when Sunstreaker finally spoke.
"What do you think?"
Amy drew in a sharp breath, not taking her eyes off the painting but pausing for a moment before breathing out, "Its beautiful..."
"Remember when I told about the time Sides and I blew all our credits to go to the Mithril Sea?"
Amy nodded.
"This is where we went," he rumbled softly. "It's one of the last good memories I have from home before this slagging war started. Once we got back to Kaon, it wasn't long before the whole fragging planet fell apart."
Amy, still in awe, finally turned to look at the mech. "Where on Earth did you get this?"
"I painted it," he answered simply. "I figured since you didn't have any windows down here..." he trailed off.
"You painted this? For me?" Amy's eyes widened as she got a nod in response. She turned to look at the painting once more, her mind buzzing with this new bit of personal information she'd gained about one of the most important people in her life. The sudden urge to run her fingers over the smooth swatches of cool color had her reaching out with the intention to touch, to fully immerse herself in this alien world Sunstreaker had recreated for her on canvas.
"Careful," he warned. "It still may be tacky in some spots. I figured it could finish drying down here as good as it could up there."
The last thing Amy wanted to do was accidentally damage the work he'd obviously put so much time and care into. She drew her hand back, opting instead to step closer to examine the minute details and finding herself once more amazed at the level of skill on display. Quietly, she murmured, "Why didn't you tell me you were an artist?"
Despite the fact Amy couldn't see it, Sunny shrugged. "It's just a hobby."
"No," Amy shook her head in disagreement. "This isn't just a hobby. Sunstreaker, you're incredibly talented. This is..." She struggled to find adequate wordage and came up short. "Its...amazing."
"I'm glad you like it," Sunny responded and, to Amy's ears, he sounded almost relieved.
"Like it?" Amy made a noise of disbelief. "I absolutely love it. I can't believe you..." her voice cracked as emotion rose to the surface. "I can't believe you did this...for me..."
"Bright spark," he vented, all the normal traces of smug cockiness gone from his tone as he spoke, "It's one of the few things I can do for you."
Amy turned once more to face him, struck by just how unguarded he looked at that moment. A brief glance behind the veil, a voice in her mind whispered. She felt the energy in her chest warm and her heart squeeze.
"Sides and I," Sunstreaker continued in a low rumble, "we're at the mercy of our circumstances. We always have been. We can't offer you much but, for whatever it's worth, what we do have is yours."
Amy couldn't help it. She could feel the tell-tale lump forming in her throat. Pressure built behind her eyes and, try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears from forming. They pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision until Sunstreaker was no better than a distorted yellow blur in front of her. Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she used every ounce of willpower she possessed to hold in what she was sure would be an extremely ugly crying jag.
"Aw, slag, Squishie," Sunny grimaced. "You're not going to start leaking, are you?"
That was all it took. Amy didn't even try to deny it. There was no point. She shook her head in the affirmative as the first sob worked its way out of her throat. A few stumbling steps later and she'd thrown her arms around the mech's neck and buried her face into the crevice between his neck and shoulder as shuddering sobs wracked her body.
"Frag me," Sunny muttered. Doing his best to ignore the damp humidity of her breath against the cables in neck and the warm salty wetness of her tears as they meandered down her face to drip onto his armor, he used one hand to press her as close to him as the railing between them would allow. That same large hand easily covered the expanse of her back as he began to rub slow, comforting circles. He waited until she quieted to the occasional sniffle before teasing, "If I had known the painting was going to make you all gross and slimy I would have just kept the kitten poster that Sides stole and had that framed for you instead."
Amy sniffled, "I'm sorry..."
"Don't be," the mech dismissed, adjusting her slightly to tuck her beneath his chin. "It's not your fault you're human. Nobody's perfect."
Amy choked out an amused sound. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you so, so much."
"Yeah," Sunny vented, nuzzling the top of her head gently. "You're welcome, Squishie."
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It was later in the evening before Jazz finally found himself back in the comfort of the office he shared with his favorite human. He'd sent Amy home hours ago, advising her to get some much needed rest. She'd certainly risen to the occasion and he couldn't have been more proud of her but, he still worried greatly about her health and wellbeing. He trusted the twins to keep an optic on her and so far they hadn't let him down. She was in good hands. The TIC was currently seated at his desk, arms crossed over his chest plates, visor retracted, and head tilted in studious observation as he openly admired the newest addition to office decor.
"Were you aware that Sunstreaker was an artist?"
Jazz look up and over to where Prowl sat perched on the corner of his desk, also admiring the painting that now hung on the back wall of the space. The smaller mech shook his head. "I've heard from a bot or two over the vorns that he dabbled in artistic pursuits. Never actually seen 'im pick up a brush, though."
Prowl hummed. He wore a look of perplexed realization. "I found an expensive case full of paintbrushes hidden beneath his berth during a contraband inspection. Given his proclivity for cleanliness, I assumed they were purposed for personal use."
Jazz chuckled, "You know what the humans say about assumin'."
"Indeed," the SIC agreed. "It does make you wonder, though, doesn't it?"
"About what, Prowler?"
The corner of Prowl's mouth ticked up, "What else don't we know about them?"
Jazz shook his head, clearly amused. "After watchin' the two of 'em with the scraplet, there's nothin' those two could do or say anymore that would surprise me."
End of Chapter 46
