Okay my friends… A lot happens in this chapter so hold on and take notes. I know a lot of you asked questions and requested a deeper exploration of certain issues and characters. I couldn't fit everything into this chapter, but I will do my best to address those issues, though I can't promise I'll get to everything. If I don't get to them in a couple of chapters, feel free to remind me/ ask again. (See AN at end of chapter for more lengthy discussion on a couple of topics.)
Without further delay:
Early the next orn, Smokescreen greeted Prowl at the lifts that would take them to the command level. The white and gray Praxian flashed his former mentor a quick smile in greeting then grew serious, looking at him more evaluatingly.
"How are you doing Prowl?" Smokescreen asked.
Prowl gave his former apprentice a pointed look. "Ready to return to work."
"Good." Smokescreen paused, his optics falling to the new rank engraved on Prowl's chassis. "You know, your promotion makes you my second in command."
"Indeed." Prowl narrowed his optics at Smokescreen hearing a decidedly pleased tone in his voice. "You are enjoying this."
Smokescreen made a face. "Not as much as you might think." Then he smiled brightly. "And only because I know it's temporary."
They stepped off the lift and Smokescreen took the lead. "Come, I am going to formally introduce you to the staff."
Prowl released a vent as he fell into step with his former subordinate. "I doubt this will go over well."
Smokescreen shrugged a doorwing minutely, though a smirk was evident in his voice. "At least they've all gotten used to working with you. Well, most of them anyway."
Prowl glanced at him and then released a sigh of air through his vents. "We shall see."
"Twenty credits?" Smokescreen cocked an optic ridge back at him.
Prowl shot him a look. "You know I do not gamble."
Chuckling, Smokescreen nodded. "True. Figured it wouldn't hurt to try though."
Prowl snorted air through his vents, though he began to believe he could positively identify something else about his former apprentice that was different: Smokescreen was almost giddy.
As they arrived in the tactical command center, Smokescreen sent out an alert to all his staff that there was to be a staff meeting as soon as everyone was gathered. Such meetings were not unprecedented in such a department, because situations could arise at any time that would necessitate an impromptu briefing.
Smokescreen stood beside Prowl as everyone else waited for their department commander to begin the briefing. If Prowl were a mech given to flights of fancy, he would have imagined Smokescreen was taking an almost protective stance.
Once everyone was there, Smokescreen cleared his vents and gestured toward Prowl. "As you can see, in light of Prowl's abilities to almost single-handedly run the defense of Iacon, as well as his vast experience with tactical command, he has been promoted to lieutenant commander."
Trailbreaker recoiled physically, took a look at the rank etchings on Prowl's chassis and then looked back at Smokescreen. He was not the only one to have that reaction, though he was the first one to speak.
"That would make him the second highest ranking mech in the department." Not even Prowl could mistake the bitter emotional undertones in that short observation.
Smokescreen nodded. "Yes." Then he looked around at the expressions on the rest of his staff. Prowl had already seen their reactions and only a sense of propriety regarding his new rank kept him from looking down.
Instead, he kept his outwardly calm gaze focused on Smokescreen as the younger mech continued. "I can see this troubles many of you."
The other mechs in the department looked at each other as if hoping for someone else to have the courage to speak first. A couple looked at Prowl, but never for more than the briefest of moments before glancing away. They knew he would be their commanding officer, especially if any protests they might have were not heeded.
No one wanted to risk making a target of themselves.
It made Prowl's spark ache that they still feared him in such a manner and to such a degree, not that he could blame them considering his recent history of a near decavorn spent with the Decepticons. In their place he would be worried too. But he knew how important it was that they be able to discuss their concerns. The easiest way would be to remove himself from the equation, at least temporarily.
He looked at Smokescreen and cleared his vents. "Perhaps I should excuse myself for a few breems, Commander."
Smokescreen glanced at him and shook his helm. "No. They need to learn that you will be a fair an unbiased leader." He looked back at Trailbreaker. "I am still the department head. So, let's hear it?"
Trailbreaker glanced at Prowl, his nervousness clear in the tense set of his armor. "Well… no offense, but until just over a decaorn or so ago, he was still a Decepticon, even if he was a defector, and he was a fairly high ranking Decepticon at that."
Prowl released a quiet vent as the other tactician's concerns – confirmed by the various nods from the others around them – were not far off from what he had suspected.
"Does he look like a Decepticon any more?" Smokescreen asked pointedly.
Once more, all optics focused back on Prowl. Trailbreaker shook his helm quickly, his nervousness spiking. "No… and I don't think he is but… a decaorn? Second in Command?"
Smokescreen shifted unhappily beside him, But Prowl spoke before his former apprentice could. "Indeed. I too believe this promotion to be rather swift and wholly unexpected."
Fusion glanced at Prowl and then focused on Smokescreen, his copper and blue armor flaring unhappily, his doorwings twitching his displeasure. "But to ask us to accept him as a commanding officer at all, let alone so soon is…"
He drifted off, glancing at Prowl, not in fear, Prowl deduced, but rather in well-controlled anger. He remembered Fusion's stint as his monitor and knew this needed to be dealt with delicately. Hopefully his tactical computer would be up to the job, since interpersonal skills were not his forte.
"Do not think I am unsympathetic with your concerns." Prowl met Fusion's glinting optics, before letting them slide over those of all the other mechs present. Wariness and concern marked every single faceplate. It took him a moment, but then it hit him. While he had no doubt they were seriously concerned about him and his past, Prowl also suspected their fears matched those Jazz had hinted at when he had first started working in the tactical department.
They feared he would be manipulating Smokescreen, running the department even if only through his former relationship with their commander. He made this observation even as his tactical computer returned with a recommended plan of attack.
He looked at Smokescreen. "With your permission, Commander?" He asked with a deferential tip of his doorwings.
Smokescreen blinked, but neither Praxian missed the muted shock and swift flicks of relief that briefly registered on a couple of faceplates. After a moment, the white and gray tactician nodded.
Prowl ducked his head at Smokescreen's gesture and continued, his tone and expression carefully controlled. "I recommend we proceed as we have already done. If at any time actual problems or concerns arise, they can be brought to either my or your attention and dealt with directly at that time."
He looked back at Fusion and then at Trailbreaker and Tailgate who was standing right next to him. "If I violate your trust – or you perceive that I have violated it – I will not balk at accepting whatever consequences I may incur."
Trailbreaker considered him closely, glanced at Smokescreen then nodded slowly. "I admit, that approach worked when I was your monitor. But…" He straightened and met Prowl's optics, his posture almost challenging. "Decepticons handle command differently."
"They command through fear and dominance." Prowl acknowledged easily, nodding.
"Exactly."
Unspoken was the underlying concern – fear even – that he would do the same, as well as an almost betrayed sense of disbelief that the senior command staff, the Prime, would do that to them.
"I was with Megatron for less than a single decavorn." Prowl said slowly, measuringly. "I led the tactical department in Praxus for over twenty-five decavorns before the war. They would not have tolerated Decepticon-like tactics in the Enforcer Corps."
Prowl allowed his lip plate to quirk upwards as he continued. "Besides, my role in Megatron's forces was more akin to that of a tactical aid than department head." At their puzzled and startled looks, Prowl explained quickly. "I was his only tactician and my job was not so much to determine tactical policy but to make recommendations for Megatron's personal approval."
Tailgate's optics narrowed. "Before I take any order from you, I want to know which of Megatron's despicable policies you are responsible for."
Smokescreen moved uneasily, but Prowl nodded, outwardly calm though he was impressed that this information – already in the command staff's as well as a few other individuals' hands – had not filtered down more widely to the lower ranks. Even so, he knew this might be a tipping point in their willingness to listen to him.
"A reasonable concern." He said softly. "Megatron's policy of destroying Autobot energon sources, the intentional targeting of medics and other Autobot non-combatants and, while I did recommend against the killing of sparklings and neutrals, I did not object. It was also my recommendation to purge the Planetary Guard ranks of all Autobots and Autobot sympathizers. Furthermore, he also destroyed the primary Autobot training facility here in Iacon and the one in Cadmium Plexus on my suggestion."
Engines were revving angrily but Prowl only flinched a doorwing as he continued to list the recommendations he had made that Megatron had implemented against the Autobots. He was not blind to the shift in the mood of those around him and sensed that he had probably lost any cooperation he might have gained – regardless of his undeniable skill in his area of expertise.
Fusion's optics were blazing by the time he was finished and he glared at Smokescreen, his words coming out in an angry hiss. "And you expect us to follow his commands?"
Prowl's doorwings flicked against his will and he lowered his gaze, not in a submissive fashion, only enough to telegraph that he was not going to protest the other mech's rightful anger, nor the heated agreement offered by the others.
Only Trailbreaker was peering at him silently – thoughtfully – rather than reacting to what he had said.
Smokescreen's engine was revving as well, but his focus was on the rest of his staff, not Prowl. "The Prime did not grant him this rank simply to make him a figurehead. You all saw what he is capable of. You can all see what an advantage he will provide our side in this function."
"But…" Tailgate started only to have Smokescreen cut him off.
"Surely you can also see he isn't the same mech who worked for Megatron!"
Prowl managed not to flinch as that declaration, accompanied by a broad gesture in his direction, served to bring everyone's attention back to him.
Smokescreen did not give any of them a chance to react before he continued. "Of all of us in this room, Prowl would have the right to boast in his tactical abilities and skill and yet he has allowed each and every one of you, at some point or another, inside his head to monitor his work. Inside his head! What Decepticon would do that?"
Tailgate backed off, looking just as chagrined at the reminder as the others did, though he still did not look happy. Nor did anyone else.
"Does this mean that he will actually have command authority over us, or will this just be a function-oriented title?" Trailbreaker asked cautiously.
Prowl glanced up at the other mech, hearing the threads of hurt in his voice and understood. Qualifications aside, he was being promoted above everyone, but Trailbreaker especially had a tough chip to integrate in that, in essence, he was being demoted from his role as second in command of the division.
Smokescreen must have sensed the same thing for his reply was notably softer than his previous declaration. "He will be serving in both the function and role dictated by his new rank."
Vents flared around the room and Trailbreaker's frame heated.
"My promotion in no way reflects poorly on your own performance in this position." Prowl said softly but sincerely.
Trailbreaker looked at him sharply. "You have not been in this department long enough to say that."
Prowl's doorwings flinched, but he did not deny that statement. He could not, even if he was right that his promotion had nothing to do with a shortcoming on the other tactician's part. Instead he spoke to what he felt was the spark of the matter.
"I do not claim to have earned this rank or position, and for the very reason you are reluctant to follow my command. I am not asking for your trust any more than you are comfortable in giving it. Nor am I asking you to show any more respect to me personally than that which the rank itself requires."
The silence that claimed the tactical command was uneasy as they realized what Prowl had just done, as they processed the concessions he was making to them.
Finally smokescreen blinked and looked away from Prowl. "The bottom line is that this has already happened. If any of you are so strongly against it that you no longer wish to work in this department, you may request a transfer…"
Prowl's gaze sharpened with alarm and he spoke into a brief pause in Smokescreen's delivery so that anyone would be hard pressed to say he actually interrupted him. Not technically.
"Before you do, however, I would like to request that you come speak with me and see if we can come to an equitable solution. I do not wish to cause major upheaval in this department. You are an effective team." He looked at Trailbreaker. "My goal is only to build on that effectiveness, not to make any of you turn away from your function."
Smokescreen nodded firmly, as if he and Prowl had rehearsed that dialogue, "Anything else?"
"This… is going to take time to adapt to." Fusion said lowly but that was it.
They dissipated back to their assigned tasks, the atmosphere in the tactical command more tense than it had been.
Prowl released a vent just before Smokescreen leaned close to him, speaking so softly only he would hear. "Well. That went better than I'd hoped."
Prowl canted his former apprentice an arched look. "If memory files serve, you were the one willing to bet twenty credits on this."
Smokescreen merely shrugged a doorwing. "I guess we have different definitions of what 'smoothly' means."
Prowl just watched as Smokescreen ambled back to his office, leaving him to stare bemusedly after him.
… … …
Prowl spent most of his first day as the second in command of the tactical division reading reports and getting caught up. As he had suspected, his position as 'paroled prisoner' had meant that a lot of important information had been held back from him. While that had improved once he had officially joined the Autobots, it was still true that much had been left out.
At one point he heard a frustrated noise coming from one of the lowest ranking technicians, one who had not dared say anything during the briefing earlier and who had been too low ranking to be his monitor. Prowl's gaze snapped instantly to the individual, who's designation was Driver.
Driver glanced up guiltily to meet Prowl's optics briefly before he ducked his helm, the low whine that escaped his engine a sound of fear.
Prowl kept his doorwings stiff, not letting them react to the sound, nor the sudden attention he felt focused on him as he stood and walked toward the distressed mech. Driver hunched his shoulders as Prowl approached, as if he hoped he could disappear.
"What is the problem?" Prowl asked quietly, letting his doorwings settle into a non-threatening posture.
"I… um…" Driver cleared his vents and looked miserably at his terminal.
From the reports he had read earlier, Prowl knew that Driver was focusing on compiling all recent Decepticon activity into a usable, searchable database. He also knew Driver was relatively new to his function and his assignment. It was a daunting task for a single, inexperienced, young mech.
Driver's steel gray armor was starting to tremble in his distress and Prowl put two finger's to the younger mech's arm. "What have you accomplished so far?"
The question was asked as gently as Prowl could manage and thankfully, Driver's trembling eased, though he was still clearly uneasy as he pulled up a hasty report to show him.
Prowl glanced over it and then nodded, pointing to a section of incomplete analysis. "Is this where you are having difficulty?"
Mutely, Driver nodded.
With a silent nod of his own, Prowl settled onto a nearby stool and then proceeded to walk Driver through the difficult portion of the analysis. Though he was clearly nervous at first, after nearly half a joor, Driver had relaxed enough to ask questions. Prowl answered every question asked and once they had finished that particular data string, he gestured to the one's Driver had already done.
"If you run this comparison and analysis with the other data sets now, it will save you the effort of having to do it at a later time and will increase the accuracy of your final report." Prowl offered gently.
Driver nodded quickly. "Yes… sir. I see that now. Um… thank you. Sir."
Prowl allowed a half smile to grace his lip plates for just long enough that the other mech could see it. "You are welcome, Driver. In the future I encourage you not to wait till you are so frustrated."
Driver blinked as if surprised Prowl knew his designation then he started to say something but did not, ducking his helm.
Prowl waited silently for him to say what ever it was, but when he did not, he encouraged him with a soft, "yes?"
"Oh… it's nothing I just…" When Prowl did not back off, Driver lowered his gaze, speaking in a low rush. "I just didn't think that you would be so kind about this, I mean mistakes and all, because it's my understanding that Decepticons just kill mechs who don't understand or mess up. I mean I know you aren't a Decepticon any more, but you used to be and I was just…"
He let out a gust of air and shrunk even further into his seat. "I just put my pede in my mouth again, didn't I? Sir."
While the oblique accusation might have been insulting, Prowl was more worried about how many others might secretly be fearful of the same thing. He was also concerned at how Driver was cringing away from him anew. He did not want those working under him to be scared of him.
The breathless ramble had reminded him of Bluestreak and, even had be been inclined to take offense, that reminder would have prevented it. "Mistakes happen, Driver. So long as a mech strives for his best and works to minimize mistakes, and admits to the one's he makes, I will not deal with any mech with undo harshness. I would not have anyone fear me for such a matter."
Driver straightened then, looking at him. Then a tiny, nervous smile touched his lip plates. "Thank you for your help, sir."
Prowl blinked, but realized that Driver had taken his words to spark. He stood, nodding to the younger tactician. "You are welcome, Driver. Do not hesitate to ask for assistance if you need any in the future."
"Understood, sir." Driver said with assurance and then returned to his task.
With a lingering look at the gray tactician, Prowl returned to his other duties, not unaware of the thoughtful looks that followed him.
… … ...
By the time the shift was coming to a close, Prowl was starting to close up, locking down the terminal he had been using, when he received a communications ping from Ratchet.
/When your shift is over, please come to the med bay./ It held both the tenor of a weak command and that of a polite request.
Prowl responded immediately with a formal. /Understood, sir./
Ratchet accepted that and broke the connection.
"Prowl." Smokescreen said quietly, walking up to his terminal before Prowl could begin to speculate what Ratchet's summons might be about.
Prowl lifted his gaze to his former apprentice, aware that they were now the center of attention of everyone in the tactical command. "Yes, sir?"
Smokescreen winced, but gestured him to follow. Silently, Prowl obediently rose to his pedes and followed Smokescreen into his office. Once the door was firmly shut behind them, the white and gray tactician released a vent of air and turned to face him.
"You shouldn't be calling me 'sir'."
Prowl could not stop the smirk that flitted across his features. "On the contrary Smokescreen. You are the department commander. Part of my job as your second in command is to support your leadership."
Smokescreen rocked back, seeming truly creeped out. "You're the master tactician. I…"
Prowl relented, relaxing the set of his shoulder plating. "Relax, Smokescreen. That I am your subordinate does not mean I will not continue to be your mentor if that is what you wish of me."
Unexpectedly, Smokescreen recoiled. Prowl had no way of knowing at that moment that his former apprentice was very much aware of his new ethical programming, of just how impertinent and self-serving simply acknowledging such a desire would be.
Belatedly, Smokescreen shook his helm. "That is not something I could ask of you…"
He looked down, both mechs unintentionally reminded of the last time he had asked something of Prowl, very much aware that that time had resulted in Prowl being tortured at the hands of the Decepticons.
Prowl's doorwings twitched and he looked down, breaking the contact between them as he realized what Smokescreen was not doing. "You could, and would have every right to do so." He disagreed softly. "I appreciate that you are not."
He paused, lifting his gaze back to his former subordinate. "Consider it an offer."
Smokescreen did not move, did not even cycle air. "Why would you make such an offer?"
"When you first accepted my offer to mentor you back in Praxus, you made a commitment to that apprenticeship. I failed to meet the commitment of a mentor." Prowl readily and meekly explained.
"That doesn't mean…"
"Smokescreen," Prowl interrupted gently, well aware he was committing a mild violation of the boundaries of their new working relationship in doing so. "You have spent nearly a decaorn as a senior tactician. You have learned much of what I still had to teach you on your own. I am offering to continue your apprenticeship both because it is the right thing to do and because… it is something I want to do."
Smokescreen started to speak then shook his helm. "No… not like this."
Prowl canted his helm a fraction of an inch. "Not like what?"
Smokescreen turned away, unable to meet his former mentor's gaze. "Prowl I… There is still so much between us, that… that…"
The white and gray Praxian froze, seeming to steel himself for something unpleasant before forcing himself to look back at Prowl. "I sent you on a mission knowing, knowing you would be caught and tortured. All the reasoning I have doesn't justify that. You could have been killed – and in a horrific manner and it was because I…"
"Stop." Prowl stepped forward, touching Smokescreen's arm in an uncharacteristic gesture of comfort. "Stop." He repeated and then waited until Smokescreen lifted his optics off the floor to meet his gaze before continuing.
"All of your reasons for sending me on that mission were legitimate." He said slowly, unable to hide the faint wince at the remembered torture. Nevertheless he continued seriously. "I have reviewed the information I had not been cleared to see until this orn. You have no reason to feel guilt about that assignment, for it is one I would have accepted willingly had I known what I do now, had I not found a better way to handle it, of course."
"You probably would have." Smokescreen dropped his gaze. "It isn't just that. I knew it was wrong so I convinced myself it wasn't true. I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but… I'm sorry. You have a right to know that at some level that… I had wanted you to suffer. Maybe not that much, but… I… I don't know."
Prowl blinked, looking almost dumbly at the top of Smokescreen's helm which was now bowed contritely before him in the posture of the formal apology a younger mech might give to an honored elder.
He found he could not find words at first, his processor aching suddenly as a series of hard to define emotions whipped through him. But Smokescreen did not move, as if afraid to do so, as if afraid to face him, or at the very least hoping forlornly for absolution. It was not the action of a supervisor, but of an apprentice attempting to ask forgiveness from a mentor for something he considered a heinous offence.
Prowl realized that was what Smokescreen needed now. Taking a moment to consider his own spark on the matter, Prowl realized his former apprentice was acting remarkably mature in desiring to completely clear the air between them. It demonstrated obliquely how this war had matured Smokescreen.
Releasing a vent, Prowl took a half step closer, putting himself well within Smokescreen's personal space – even closer than required to let the tips of his fingers brush the white armor on the other tactician's arm. Smokescreen tensed fractionally and then forced his frame to relax meekly accepting Prowl's response.
If Prowl had still been inclined to hold a grudge against Smokescreen, that humble response would have softened him. After a brief hesitation, he placed a hand on Smokescreen's helm as he would a distraught youngling.
"I know." He spoke softly. "I knew that was likely the case at the time."
Smokescreen's helm snapped up; his gaze incredulous. "You… knew?"
"I strongly suspected." Prowl amended gently.
"And… still you… you let me… You didn't have a choice. I was higher ranking and you had to just because I out ranked you." Smokescreen turned away. "I still do." He said bitterly.
"As you should be." Prowl acknowledged with a small shake of his helm. "And I had a choice in that I offered my assistance where you desired it. I was not ignorant that you were unhappy with me."
Smokescreen snorted air at that understatement, still not meeting Prowl's gaze but nor did he attempt to move out from under the hand Prowl still had on his arm. "And you welcomed me in your head, regardless?"
Prowl cocked an optic ridge briefly. "I know you Smokescreen. And while I admit that knowing you wished me harm hurt…" His words cut off with a hint of static: he was not good at expressing emotional sentiment. After an awkward moment, he released a gust of air. "I never begrudged you for feeling betrayed, Smokescreen, nor for desiring recompense for that betrayal. It is true that I wish you had found a different way to repay me But I was well aware at the time that I had no justification to protest whatever method…"
"You aren't even angry are you." Smokescreen interrupted, finally looking up at him again. "You never were."
It was a statement, not a question and Prowl considered his former apprentice carefully. "No, not particularly. Would it help if I were?"
Smokescreen's optics widened and he recoiled faintly before snorting a huff of amusement. Then, seeing Prowl's expression that brief huff turned into a subdued chuckle accompanied by a wry shake of his helm.
"No, I'd still feel guilty." The younger mech said at last.
Prowl allowed a faint flash of a smile, truly glad to see Smokescreen was recovering. "Then you will simply have to find a way to cope, because I hold nothing against you, Smokescreen. And it is my choice now to extend the offer to continue your apprenticeship if you wish."
Smokescreen smiled finally, straightening fully as his armor flared gently with relief. "That's more than I ever hoped for."
… … …
Prowl reported to the med bay as requested; promptly after his shift ended. There was nothing in the CMO's summons that suggested what this was about, though he suspected it had to do with Bluestreak's upgrade. For that reason he might have excused his surprise when he was greeted, not just by Ratchet but by First Aid, Jolt and another, medic he had not yet met.
They turned toward him in unison as he entered, the suddenness of their attention almost like a physical blow. Perhaps he had interrupted something; such as a case study or skill review.
But the way all four of them moved to converge on him – even if the still unknown medic seemed extremely hesitant and even Jolt radiated a level of uncertainty – made him reconsider that conclusion.
Not sure exactly what he was facing, Prowl buried his instinctive alarm at having four medics focused so fully on him and looked at Ratchet, keeping his own posture respectful. "You wished to see me, Ratchet?"
As they neared, Jolt and the other young medic finally saw his new rank insignia and straightened uneasily, their armor going rigid, though First Aid was trying to hide a smile.
Ratchet merely nodded. "Yes. I did not have the opportunity to get back to you regarding your offer to train my medical staff in self-defense."
Prowl blinked, the scene before him suddenly taking on less…menacing… undertones. He nodded quickly, to cover his surprise. "That is understandable, considering the events that have transpired."
A grunt was Ratchet's response, though he gestured at the three junior medics standing with him. "Well, here you are. Your class of harmless, defenseless medics."
Prowl slanted the CMO a look that would have cowed a lesser mech. "Only a fool would classify you as harmless, Ratchet."
First Aid's vents choked on the air he was cycling as Ratchet's optics widened at what was suspiciously close to a joke at the testy CMO's expense. Jolt smirked, though he tried to hide it by aiming it at the ground and the still unknown mech took a nervous half-step backward, eyeing his boss warily.
Then Ratchet grumbled something unintelligible before gesturing to the two mechs Prowl had already met. "You know First Aid and Jolt." He indicated the unknown. "This is Patch."
Patch did not seem to like being the center of attention, and Prowl did not miss the frightened flare of the young medic's armor. Like Jolt and First Aid had initially been, this medic was nearly terrified of him.
He stepped toward him but hesitated when Patch almost skittered away. He held his hand out to the scared medic, palm open. "I am Prowl."
Patch looked at his open hand as if it might strike him, then glanced up at his optics. "I…I know. Your reputations precede you. I'm just not sure which one to believe." He winced at the bite in his own words.
Prowl merely nodded, not retracting his offered hand. "I understand. Perhaps soon you will find out and you will see you have nothing to fear from me."
Patch's vents flared. "That doesn't mean I'll ever like you. I really, really don't like being a target."
Prowl nodded again. "I do not blame you. This can still work, so long as you are willing to listen and learn from what I have to teach."
Patch hesitated and then nodded firmly. Then he glanced at Prowl's still open palm and belatedly reached out to touch it with his own. The contact lasted only briefly before Patch withdrew. "I… didn't mean to be rude."
Prowl allowed a tiny flick of a smile to touch his lip plates. "You where honest, Patch. That took more courage than you give yourself credit for."
Then, acutely aware Patch did not like being the center of attention any more than he did, Prowl glanced at the other three medics to include them in his next statement. "You are all aware of the commitment I am asking for?"
He received four determined, confirming nods. "When would you like to begin?"
Ratchet was the one who answered. "Tonight, if you're able. There is no telling what future orns will bring."
Prowl tipped his helm once in agreement with that observation. "I am able." He glanced speculatively at Patch and Jolt before continuing. "Allow me to collect Bluestreak from Chromia and meet me in training room five in a joor?"
Ratchet nodded. "We will be there."
… … …
First Aid followed Ratchet to training room five, the whole thing bringing back uncomfortable memories of meeting Ironhide in that same chamber. He shook his helm, it was not going to be like that again. Not with Prowl.
Oh, it was not that Ironhide was inherently mean, it was just he was impatient, especially when even after repeated lessons, the medics consistently failed to improve. The most basic things that warriors had to know consistently slipped through their fingers. He never harmed them, but… being on the receiving end of one of his 'standard' rants at 'stupid' mistakes was enough to scar a mech as inherently non-violent as First Aid and most of the medics.
And without combat protocols… they had been on the receiving end of such rants rather frequently.
But Prowl….
First Aid shook his helm as they rounded the last corner on the training level and the assigned door loomed before them. Prowl was not the ranting type.
He hastily hushed the traitorous part of his processor that silently suggested Prowl had the capability to be much, much worse than Ironhide. He knew that would not be the case. Prowl had let him work on his doorwings. Prowl let him reconstruct his face. Prowl let him choose his optic color. Prowl had silently let him use excessive force to fix damaged dorsal plating after he had scanned Bluestreak and then had ordered him to review the repair work Ratchet had done after his crash. Prowl was not like Ironhide, who would not let First Aid do anything but the most basic repairs. Prowl was…
First Aid's internal ramble was cut off midstream as they entered the training room to find that Prowl and Bluestreak were already there and that the room was configured as a shooting gallery.
He stood just inside the door, Jolt and Patch crowded close, almost nervously beside him as, after acknowledging their presence with a tiny gesture requesting that they wait, he told Bluestreak to continue.
Clearly nervous with the audience the sparkling nonetheless tried to refocus and started firing at various targets set up at different distances.
The nearer targets disappeared in bright flashes of holographic light, but the furthest ones were missed altogether.
Beside him, Patch made a distressed noise and Jolt shifted slightly, clearly remembering how heatedly Ironhide would have corrected such a mistake and worried for the vulnerable youngling. Bluestreak let out a frustrated whine.
However, all Prowl did was gently touch him between the doorwings.
Bluestreak looked up at his guardian. "I was getting them before!"
"You were not distracted before." Prowl replied calmly. "This is the first time you have had an audience. Can you tell me what happened?"
Bluestreak thought for a moment, then nodded. "I was too quick with the trigger."
Prowl nodded, the smile that briefly touched his optics, if not his lip plates, clearly the reward Bluestreak sought. "Correct. Would you like to try one more time?"
Bluestreak looked out over the course with some reserve, his doorwings twitching the direction of First Aid and the medics. Prowl seemed to be able to read the youngling's thoughts and it was difficult to believe the black and white Praxian had not initiated his guardian protocols.
"How about just one target?"
Bluestreak looked back up at him with adoring and clearly trusting, if still nervous optics and nodded. "I can do that. Well, I'll try. I'll do the best I can."
"That is all I ask." Prowl manipulated the controls until there was only one target, set at a slightly further distance than any of the previous ones. "There is no pressure, take the time you need."
Bluestreak nodded, shot a hasty glance toward the gathered medics and then lifted his rifle. Neither First Aid nor any of the other medics so much as twitched a stray wire, not wanting to distract the sparkling further. Prowl simply watched his young charge with outward serenity.
Bluestreak moved slowly, as if reviewing a mental checklist and, surprisingly, his vents flared twice in an even rhythm before stilling. Then energy lanced out of the training rifle. A nanosecond later the target evaporated in an explosion of pixels.
The youngling straightened out of his crouch, springing to his pedes with wide optics, his mouth agape. Then he was dancing on his pedes, turning in a little circle. "I did it, I did it, I did it! That was the farthest one yet, but I did it!"
First Aid almost fell over at hearing what sounded suspiciously like a tiny chuckle from the usually stoic Prowl. "Indeed. You did very good."
Bluestreak looked up at his guardian then placed his training weapon on the ground before racing forward to fling himself at Prowl's leg, then he was scaling Prowl's frame with absolute abandon and trust only to bury his face against Prowl's chassis.
"Thank you, Prowl."
With utmost tenderness, Prowl did nothing more reactionary than place an arm around Bluestreak. "You are welcome. But why the sudden clinginess?"
"I won't be able to do this in my next frame." Was all Bluestreak said.
Prowl's engine made an understanding rumble and his hold tightened fractionally before he turned to face the medics. First Aid glanced at those around him to see that Ratchet was hiding a smirk, while Patch was staring with wide optics and Jolt was likewise looking like he was on the verge of disbelieving what his optics had just recorded. Briefly the white and red medic wondered what his reaction looked like. He had no idea he was smiling widely.
Bluestreak's voice cut into his contemplations.
"Ratchet, do you have my processor expansion yet? This seems like a really strange place to do that type of thing, I mean we could go to the med bay… especially if it's something you need the help of three other mechs for. All you had to do was ask. I'm not so sure I…"
"I'm sorry Bluestreak." Ratchet interrupted the youngling with remarkable gentleness. "Your processor upgrade is not yet ready, it still needs to be configured and tested. Give me another decaorn at least."
The youngling relaxed palpably, then turned puzzled. "Then why are you here?" before anyone could answer, he brightened even more. "You are here so Prowl can teach you to shoot too?"
"To defend ourselves." First Aid heard himself answering Bluestreak with a smile. "Prowl is going to teach us to defend ourselves."
Bluestreak's optics darted to him and he smiled brightly. "Ooh. I'll get to do that once I'm in my next frame. I can't wait." He looked up at his guardian. "Can I watch?"
"Of course." Prowl answered with soft optics. "I will need to put you down, however."
"Okay." As quickly as he had initially scaled Prowl's frame, Bluestreak was back on the ground, beaming up at all five of the adults.
Prowl likewise turned his attention to First Aid and the other medics. He bowed his head formally. "Welcome. Thank you for your patience. One moment please."
He turned to the training room controls and, synching with them, quickly downloaded another program. The firing range dissolved. Moments later a new simulation coalesced into being. It was a large, half-circular room and a collection of weapons hung on the single straight wall. Along the curved half of the room, the walls were polished to a mirror shine.
Disconnecting, Prowl rejoined them. He gestured at the hologram around them. "This is a recreation of the self-defense training hall utilized by the Praxian Enforcer Corps, which served the same purpose as a dojo, but without all the formalities of proper etiquette associated with a dojo. Please."
First Aid followed the welcoming sweep of Prowl's arm as he bid them step onto the mat. Ratchet was right beside him and, after half a spark beat, Jolt and Patch followed. Bluestreak was watching them closely, then he chuckled and scampered to one of the corners where curved wall met straight and settle to the ground.
"Silly mechs. Prowl isn't going to hurt you, you know. He's a really, really good teacher." He smiled at them. "Just trust him."
First Aid found he was returning the little one's grin with one of his own and he realized he did trust Prowl.
The fragmentation of his processor had truly been a blow he had not been sure he would recover from. But then Prowl had come to him, not even a full orn after having been discharged from the med bay. He knew Prowl's dislike for being immobilized, he knew Prowl's distrust of medics – gained after nearly a decavorn of being at the mercy of the butchers who were the Decepticons passing themselves off as medics.
But he had come and submitted – no, ordered – him to examine his patched up coding. Prowl had been completely at his mercy, without even a shred of a firewall to protect himself. And still First Aid had been afraid, even as he had synched. He had known his defensive subroutines were active, had known that must have hurt Prowl. And yet the tactician had not even attempted to protect himself.
Those breems had been a very special time, he had not even told Ratchet about what Prowl had done for him, simply because he knew Prowl was a private mech. He had only shrugged when his mentor had asked what had changed. But it had affected him more greatly than he had initially realized.
He trusted Prowl now, implicitly and without reserve. Regardless of what the others thought or feared. And, he realized, he even felt more at ease knowing Prowl was the de facto second in command of the tactical department now.
Prowl caught his optics and First Aid saw the faint glimmer in them and the nod of recognition and appreciation Prowl gave him before focusing again on the group as a whole. He did not know that Ratchet had also seen the silent exchange, nor did he see the fleeting considering look that crossed his mentor's optics.
Then Prowl was speaking.
He paced in front of them, following the curved wall of the training room, meeting each set of optics a he walked past. "Self defense is eighty percent about mindset. Mindset and focus. The rest is about skill. The confidence that comes with learning the skills necessary will alone increase the odds in favor of success."
He reached the end of their line and returned to the center. "Would you let the Decepticons get to a patient under your care? Even if on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies?"
"Not willingly." Jolt answered. "That is why so many of us are casualties."
Prowl nodded, not responding to the slight bite in that sentence. "Exactly. The life of your patient depends on you. I would suggest, that more lives depend on you not just taking damage. By defending yourself, you are defending your patients… and all of those who will need you in the future."
He paused to let those words soak into their awareness.
As First Aid allowed Prowl's admonition to process through his mind, he wanted to slap his face into one of the polished metal panels on the wall. Why had he not thought about it that way before? He had come close, had known that his patient's wellbeing depended on him not being damaged, but he had just never made the tiny yet significant leap that said defending himself was also defending his patient.
Prowl continued, suddenly seeming to be… more. He filled the space before them, his presence almost as compelling as the Prime's but… different. It was eerily similar to how he had ordered First Aid to scan his mind. First Aid could not help but give him his full attention.
"I understand that your systems cannot handle combat protocols. You can learn to fight regardless, it will just take longer and more effort and dedication. You cannot exchange your medical tools for weapons without compromising your function. You can learn to work with what you have." Prowl once again met the optics of every single medic, speaking slowly. "Your medical programming means that while you know how to fix mechs, you also know best how to harm them."
Prowl lifted a hand to forestall the automatic protest First Aid – and the others apparently – had at that statement. "It also means you know how to incapacitate without killing, since intentionally causing harm is against your core programming. But I believe that, as you learn to fight, to defend yourself and your patient, you will find you will be able to do things you do not currently believe you can."
And… First Aid believed him.
Prowl raked them again with his piercing sapphire gaze before he nodded, satisfied with what he saw. His armor relaxed and that compelling nature to his demeanor released most of its grip on First Aid and he found he could cycle air more freely. Since when had Prowl become so much like the Prime?
"Initially, we will use training forms, both to train your frame and your mind. You will learn the motions and the mental discipline necessary. The determination that you use not to give up on a patient you are fighting to keep alive you will learn to use for your defense, because if you are attacked that is what your patient needs most."
With that, Prowl dropped fluidly into a fighting stance and had the medic's copy him.
The four of them attempted to do so, but it was awkward. After instructing them to stay in the stance, Prowl straightened to examine their efforts. He approached Ratchet first.
With gentle but firm motions, he helped Ratchet correct his stance then moved on to First Aid.
The white and red medic accepted Prowl's corrections to widen the position of his pedes and to drop his center of gravity. Even though Prowl murmured the reasons for the corrections as he made them, First Aid could instantly tell the improvement in his stability.
Prowl continued on to Jolt and then Patch. First Aid felt a fleeting stab of empathy as Patch winced the first time Prowl touched his wrist joint.
Prowl froze, but did not remove his hand. "I am not going to hurt you Patch. You have my word."
He waited after that until he received Patch's timid nod. First Aid might have imagined it, but he almost suspected that Prowl used the same level of gentleness with the green medic as he had with Bluestreak.
The lesson continued for another joor and First Aid was pleasantly surprised at how much they had learned of what Prowl called 'form one.' But then, in his processor he was not fighting, he was simply learning movements, almost like a dance. He certainly did not see how the series of motions he had just learned would be used to fight. But Prowl said they would be, so he would just trust that it would be made clear soon enough.
When they were finished, Prowl looked them over.
"You've done well, all of you." He gave them a tiny smirk. "You might not see it yet, or even believe me, but you have already learned all the most basic moves you will use in a fight."
First Aid blinked, and a quick exchange of looks with Jolt beside him confirmed that at least the blue and black medic shared his shock.
"You don't know how to use them yet, but you know them." Prowl nodded, clearly amused at their reaction, though only hint of that amusement slipped past his control. "As we progress you will learn to utilize the movements you have learned today, perfect those movements as well as more advanced techniques."
"When is our next lesson?" Ratchet asked for all of them.
"When would you like it to be?" Prowl returned, an optic ridge cocked fractionally.
"Tomorrow?" Ratchet asked and First Aid had to stifle a snicker. It was clear his mentor had enjoyed learning new skills. "If something happens, it could be orns before we get another chance."
Prowl nodded, though it was almost a half-bow. "Tomorrow, then. At the same joor."
"We will be here." Ratchet said firmly, and First Aid nodded quickly. He was pleased that Jolt and Patch did likewise.
Having recognized that the lesson was complete, Bluestreak had made his way back to Prowl's side. He reached up with casual familiarity to put a hand on the adult's leg. Prowl, just as casually, put a hand between Bluestreak's doorwings.
The blue and gray sparkling was grinning at them widely, almost smugly as if he too shared his guardian's confidence that they would be able to learn how to defend themselves.
Or perhaps, seeing his obvious devotion to the black and white mech, he was simply confident in his guardian.
… … …
Late the next orn the rec room was teaming with mechs and even a smattering of femmes as the regular shift gave way to the unlucky crew assigned to work the night joors. Among them Beachcomber, Flareup, Hound and Blades were informally celebrating the latter's first day back on full-duty following the fractured spark chamber he had sustained during the battle where the Autobots retook two of their bases.
Blades was regaling them with his tales of woe… from his stint in the medbay.
"…Then he dinged me on the back of the helm with that wrench of his. Teach me never to try and sneak out, that's for sure." Blades put the hand that was not holding his energon up to finger the dent that the CMO had refused to pop out so as to make the lesson more 'lasting'. "If I never have to deal with that again, it would be fine with me."
He did not bother to explain whether it was the cracked spark case or Ratchet's wrench that he was referring to.
Flareup was snickering at him. "Well, Ratchet refused to connect the motor relays to one of my legs after he had to replace them from that botched Safe House Fiasco. Didn't do it until my repairs were finalized. Said it was the only way to keep me on the berth." She took a swig of her energon, not bothering to hide her smirk. "He was right."
"He over tightened a bolt on Sideswipe's knee joint when the fragger slagged him off pranking Springer and I." Hound winked at Beachcomber. "He could barely walk for an orn or two."
Blades chuckled finally. "Yeah, that's one mech I don't want to slag off. Ol' Ratch is a force of nature with that wrench, isn't he?"
They fell into a companionable silence then a flash of bright color at the rec room door drew his attention and he waved at the two conspicuous mechs who had entered. "Hey, Sides! Sunny! Over here."
Both twins paused, scanning the crowd until they found who had called them. When they saw Blades waving, they cut a path directly toward them.
Beachcomber stiffened, looking at Blades. He stood. "I'm glad you're out of the med bay. I… have some things I need to do. Um… bye."
Blades looked at him sharply and then, seeing Beachcomber's timid, darting glance at the approaching frontliners, realized the real reason he was suddenly fleeing. His silent apology filled his optics and the faint flare of his armor. Beachcomber nodded his understanding and offered a weak smile.
Unfortunately, the brief interaction gave the silver and gold front line warriors enough time to reach their table.
"Blades, mech… good to see you back in the game." Sideswipe grinned, giving the bright blue and silver mech a playful slap on the shoulder plating.
"Better to be back in the game, Sides." Blades glanced at Sunstreaker – who was even more dour than usual – well aware Beachcomber was trying to make himself as invisible as possible. "What's gotten under your plating, Sunny?"
Sideswipe glanced at his golden half, when the indicated mech did not answer. "Oh, he's just steamed that Prowl saved our afts. Again."
Hound chuckled. "He's making a habit of that, isn't he?"
Sideswipe shot the olive green scout a dark look. "Don't remind us." Then he shrugged though the gesture was far from laid back. "But I guess if he's working in tactical now..."
Sunstreaker looked down, grumbling inaudibly and Sideswipe trailed off.
Hound was looking at the two Terror Twins then shook his helm and looked back at Blades. "You know, Prowl single-handedly ran the defense of Iacon when the 'Con's attacked a few orns ago. He did a spectacular job."
Flareup nodded reluctantly. "Sure did. Amazingly enough. I hear he was seriously injured too. I know he spent several orns in med bay unconscious. Gears was in the med bay when he was carried in by the Prime himself."
Sunstreaker frowned, glancing at Sideswipe. "He is a fragging tactician, how could he have been so badly injured sitting all nice and protected in central command?"
"The only thing that coulda happened to him would have been to his processor." Sideswipe finished his twin's thought and the intensity of their speculation caught more than one of their companion's attention.
Even so that caused a tense silence to settle on the group only to be broken when another mech joined them. It was Trailbreaker.
"I don't mean to interrupt, I just wanted to say it's good to see you up and about, Blades." Trailbreaker smiled at the blue and silver warrior.
He started to leave but Blades called him back. "I hear Prowl is working full time in tactical and that he saved us recently."
The front line warrior was not prepared for the bitterness that filled the tactician's optics. "Yeah. He saved us. Now he's a lieutenant commander and second in command of the entire tactical division."
Air hissed through multiple vents at that news. That was a higher rank than any of them.
"Its… a little sudden for that, isn't it?" Flareup asked suddenly subdued.
No one answered her immediately; they only exchanged glances with each other, sympathetic to Trailbreaker's quandary.
As the silence stretched, it was Beachcomber who ventured to break it first. "But… doesn't that mean no one has to be his monitor? Isn't that a good thing?"
Trailbreaker's optics flashed. "They could have accomplished that without making him second in command of the department."
"But…"
"Shut up." Sunstreaker snapped, snarling. "You've never been where he is right now, so just shut up."
Beachcomber recoiled, backing up to put Blades between him and the golden twin. "S…sorry…"
"That wasn't necessary, Sunny." Blades chided, frowning.
"He is a fragging 'Con defector." Sunstreaker turned on Blades with a growl. "They always turn on us. You know that. Can you imagine what he could do to us – to all of us – in that position?"
"I don't think he will, though." Hound said softly. "I mean, it may be too early for most to accept this… elevation to such a high rank. But, at least he isn't the second in command of the entire army. Besides, you have to admit, the engagements that he has coordinated have gone much better than any of the others, both in terms of casualties and the fact that we've unequivocally won them. He's the only reason we all aren't dead or 'Con prisoners right now."
Trailbreaker's armor shifted, his systems heating. "Yes, we all know he's the best tactician there is."
"But he didn't need to be made second in command." Hound said quietly, nodding with sympathetic understanding. "Slag, mech. I'm sorry. You gonna be alright working under him?"
Trailbreaker remained frozen, his armor bristled, before he suddenly deflated. "Don't have a choice do I? Either that or transfer out of the department. But I like being in Iacon. And I like being a tactician."
"Just wait long enough." Sunstreaker shrugged. "He'll eventually do something that'll make the top brass see how wrong they were and he'll be back in the brig where he can't harm anyone."
Trailbreaker released a gust of air and slumped into an empty seat. "No… Actually. I don't think he will." He shook his helm, looking down at his hands. "And the thing of it is… I've been his monitor. He probably does deserve to be promoted. He is most definitely not a junior tactician, for all that we've treated him like one. Pit, he is good enough to be the department commander."
Blades saw Sunstreaker and Sideswipe look at each other, something passing between them that was different than could be attributable to their concern over Prowl's supposedly questionable loyalty.
"We got an… early patrol next orn." Sideswipe said suddenly, stepping back from the table. "Nice to see you again, Blades. Later mechs… uh, and femme." He shot a glance at Flareup before pulling his twin away.
Blades watched them go, but dismissed them as Hound asked Trailbreaker another question, this time about how Prowl was treating the mechs under his command so far. Just like everyone else on the front lines, he knew that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe would do whatever they wanted and it was usually better not to be part of it.
… … …
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe walked close enough to each other that their shoulder guards brushed with every other step. They did not speak, neither one trusting themselves to express the conflicting emotions that were roiling through their shared spark. Not in public.
Sideswipe had felt his twin's normally tenuous control start to slip and was desperate to get him into a more private and secured setting. Someplace an innocent, passing mech would not accidently set him off. The only safe place was their quarters.
Though they were not spark-bound in the traditional sense, the Autobots had quickly learned it was best to keep them out of the main barracks and so they shared one of the larger quarters generally reserved for lower ranking sparkmates. It was not until they were safely behind their own door that either relaxed their guard.
Sideswipe slumped to the ground, his back to the closed porthole and watched helplessly as Sunstreaker paced like a caged organic beast, his engine growling irritably.
His own dismay at this turn of events echoed between them and fed off of Sunstreaker's concern and...
"This can't be happening!" Sunstreaker whirled to face him, his fists clenched.
Though there was a snarl on his face plate and most mechs would have said he was furious, it was something closer to panic that washed across Sideswipe's awareness.
Sideswipe did not answer, there was nothing he could say.
Other than Smokescreen, they were the only other mechs who had interacted at all with Prowl before the war, and that had hardly been a cordial relationship.
The hostility in their past relationship had not been a problem when Prowl had been a paroled prisoner or an unranked Autobot tactician. Not for the two of them, at any rate.
There was nothing Prowl could have done – not legally at least – to repay them for how they had treated him. And, even if he might have been able to kick their combined afts to the pit and back, they had not truly worried about such a consequence. Not at the time.
Now he outranked them, putting their relationship uncomfortably back to what it had been in Praxus. But they had left the truly criminal behavior behind them, redirecting their usually destructive energies into being soldiers, warriors. It fit them better, settling their shared spark with a worthwhile goal. Their 'miscreant' behavior was now limited to mostly annoying pranks.
Except for where Prowl had been concerned.
In meeting his twin's optics, Sideswipe knew Sunstreaker was thinking the same thing as he. They had harassed Prowl mercilessly during his patrol with him and, not even a decaorn ago had all but threatened him. That he had let Sunstreaker back him up against a wall did not fool either of them, they had seen his six-joor long fight in the training room after he had been 'falsely' accused.
They had been angry at Prowl, concerned that he would betray them and the Autobots, who had accepted them even with their more destructive tendencies. But they were not ignorant. It did not matter that he had saved their lives multiple times now; they knew they had given him no reason to like them. The exact opposite, actually. They had given Prowl more than one reason to seek retribution.
"He's smart." Sideswipe said so quietly it was almost inaudible to his twin, but he knew Sunstreaker heard him. "Frighteningly smart. He won't do anything openly."
"Nor immediately." Sunstreaker confirmed just as quietly, unspeakable worry filling his optics.
Despite what everyone said, he was still a Decepticon defector, which meant he was still a threat. Only now he had more rank and authority than they did.
As Sideswipe stared bleakly up at his golden twin, the uneasy certainty that their past abuse of Prowl was about to be revisited on them echoed between both frontline warriors. The bright silver mech could not even honestly say they would not deserve something.
Regardless, both twins knew that they had new cause to worry now.
They also knew they would think of something.
I know, I had a lot of OC's in this chapter. Don't worry, they are peripheral characters and will remain that way, even if they are returning characters. By peripheral characters, I mean a character that exists to move the plot along or to help define/demonstrate/build one of the primary characters. Sort of like returning bit-parts on a TV series. (Master Bra'tec (sp?) on Stargate SG1 would be an example) Here is a list of the OC's I have used in this chapter:
Fusion: Tactician, Praxian, Copper and Blue coloring. (Will be returning in future chapters)
Driver: Tactical technician, Unknown origin, gray coloring
Blades: Front line warrior (brought back by popular demand following the mention of him in chapter 26) unknown origin, bright blue and silver coloring.
Patch: Junior medic, Unknown origin, green coloring. (Will be returning at least one more time in future chapters, more if requested.)
Tailgate: Tactician, Unknown origin, gunmetal gray coloring. (Yes, there is a cannon Tailgate, but this is not him… at least not intentionally.)
Don't worry, the Twins will be back in the next chapter (You don't honestly think I'd leave them like this forever did you?... Wait… don't answer that. :D). There will also be another Optimus/Prowl moment and another Jazz/Prowl moment. Don't know if I'll have room for more than that in one chapter, but I'll see.
Once again, a substantial time jump is coming relatively soon, if there is something you guys want to see before that jump - anything that is just bugging you and you want to see followed up - I'm still accepting requests… (Yes, Bluestreak will get his processor expansion, so don't worry about that.)
Also, thanks to codythedude for reminding me that I haven't yet dealt with Bluestreak's early difficulty with hitting the targets. He's getting there. My thinking is that Cybertronian's mature differently that humans do (go figure… sentient robots, right?) and that Prowl's initial concern will be more with broadening Bluestreak's ability to multitask and handle distractions and simply making him safe and then he will start working on his aim… like he sorta did in this chapter. We didn't get to see it all because we were looking at it through First Aid's POV and…well, he knows even less about shooting a rifle than Bluestreak does.
