See, I didn't make you guys wait a whole two months for this one! I try to be nice whenever I can. *Innocent Smile*

Warning: Potentially disturbing material, including non-graphic abuse of a youngling and suicidal ideation (thoughts about suicide). (No, none of our two precious younglings are mistreated and no one dies.)


As the intruder alert pulsed through the base there was one moment of absolute stillness in the rec room before everyone sprang into action. Tables were pushed out of the way and chairs were toppled as every mech present darted toward their posts. Bluestreak and Bumblebee huddled together even as Prowl lurched toward them. He swept the sparklings into his arms as much to protect them from inadvertently getting trampled as to make it possible for him to move quickly. Once back in the hallway, he transformed around them without breaking his stride, tucking them safely into the cab of his alt-mode. As soon as his wheels touched the ground, he was speeding toward the Tactical Command Center.

Once he was on the command deck, order had given way to the near chaos of the main base as mechs scrambled to their duty stations. The door to Tactical Command slid open for him without hesitation and he was well inside before transforming again, each sparkling held closely to his chassis.

Prowl signaled Smokescreen for an update even as he moved directly to his office. He began processing the streaming data as he ushered both younglings into the small room. "Stay here." He commanded. "I will come for you when it is safe."

Yellow and blue helms nodded, optics wide with fright.

"Are we being attacked, like in Prax…" Bumblebee sniffed, frame trembling. Bluestreak went immediately to comfort his friend.

Prowl spared a moment to gently stroke Bumblebee's back, between his doorwings and then did likewise for Bluestreak. "You are in the most protected building on the base. I give you my word, I will do everything within my power to make sure neither of you come to harm."

Though still frightened, both younglings took some comfort in that promise and Bluestreak reached up to grab his wrist. "Be careful, Prowl."

Prowl allowed a tiny smile down at him and let his doorwings flick in a silent encouragement to stay calm. Then he stood, stepping back. He locked his office door, encrypting it more than usual, his outward mask of absolute calm impassivity slipping back into place as he focused entirely on the new threat.

Prowl was aware the mechs in his department – no doubt having observed his interaction with the sparklings – were watching him closely, evaluating his response to the situation. Prowl knew there was nothing in his demeanor that would encourage his staff to panic, he knew that to all outward appearances he seemed to be in complete control of the situation. Maintaining that appearance was part of his job.

Coolly, he tapped into the base-wide communication's channels. His first priority was to establish order to the chaos that still dominated the base's response. Within astroseconds his calm, clipped 'voice' was issuing multiple, simultaneous commands all across the base. Conditioned now by roughly a vorn of following his commands in battle, his orders were followed promptly and within mere minutes order was restored.

Prowl's orders quickly had security response cornering the intruder with nearly a dozen well-trained warriors as backup.

Once that happened it was only a matter of a quarter breem before security response had the situation under control and the intruder in custody. While part of Prowl's processor insisted something was unusual about the situation he focused on ensuring the rest of the base was locked down and that searches were underway to ensure the captured infiltrator was indeed the only one they needed to worry about. The entire situation had the feeling of being too easy, almost anticlimactic.

/Somehow the slagger got into the main courtyard without anyone seeing him./ Prowl overheard one of the security officers reporting to Red Alert. /Those that saw him, said it was as if he just appeared out of nowhere.../

Curious, Prowl frowned. The main courtyard was near the middle of the base, formed by a juncture where four buildings connected, including the Command Center. Only a skilled infiltrator would have been able to reach such a location undetected. Then the question remained why the mech was detected there if he had been so skilled as to avoid detection previously. Prowl allowed that Wheeljack's modified scanners – installed primarily around the Command Center– might have just proven their worth. If so, he would petition the Prime for increased circulation of said scanners. Regardless, going from the signals he was tapped into, Prowl judged that the situation was under control and issued the command to stand the base down from high alert.

Disconnecting from the system, he looked around at his gathered staff. "Trailbreaker?"

"Yes, sir?" Trailbreaker looked up and then approached with caution.

"I would like you to consult with Security and find out what happened and if Tactical can help ensure it does not happen again." He issued the command smoothly, aware of Trailbreaker's widening optics. "Then I want you to coordinate things from our end."

Trailbreaker blinked, then his back struts straightened and his chin lifted just a tiny bit at being given such an autonomous assignment. Prowl understood: this was confirmation. Trailbreaker had been demoted from Second in Command to Third shortly after Prowl had joined the department. Such an assignment was confirmation of his worth as a leader and his experience in a management position. It was also confirmation that Prowl was confident in his ability to carry out the assignment competently.

"Yes, sir!" Trailbreaker replied smartly.

Though he was looking down at his terminal, Smokescreen smiled to himself.

Prowl did one more check and then turned toward his office to reassure the two younglings cloistered within. He was just reaching for the door control when Jazz contacted him over his silent comm.

/Heya, Prowler… You got a few breems?/

Prowl frowned, all motion stilling at the tone in Jazz's transmission. /What is wrong, Jazz?/

/It's the intruder./ Jazz replied sharply. /I need ya to come to holding cell two-beta, if ya can. Tha sooner tha better./

Prowl's vents stalled. He remembered the last time he had heard that cell designation; it had been shortly after his own capture. It had been the interrogation cell he had himself been held in. He was curios – and a little concerned – as to why he was being called there now. Nevertheless, nothing in Jazz's transmission indicated he was himself in any form of trouble. Likewise however, nothing in the transmission indicated Jazz was inclined to provide more information at the moment.

/You are questioning the intruder?/ He asked even as he looked around for his apprentice. "Smokescreen!"

/He wants ta see you Prowl./ Jazz replied as Prowl watched Smokescreen look up, meet his gaze, then hurry over.

"Yes sir?" Smokescreen asked, perhaps a little nervous.

/I will be there shortly./ Prowl told Jazz then focused on Smokescreen. "Jazz is requesting my assistance in questioning the intruder. I will not take the younglings to the detention area and I cannot leave them without supervision." He paused long enough for Smokescreen to nod his understanding. "I am leaving them in your care."

Smokescreen's optics widened, but Prowl had already turned away, stepping into his office. Bumblebee and Bluestreak relaxed palpably when they saw him and the fact he was completely unharmed.

Bluestreak ran up to him, followed closely by Bumblebee. Tiny gray hands touched black leg plating. "Are you alright? Is everything okay? Is it over now?"

Prowl knelt to be at the sparkling's level, aware Smokescreen had followed him into his office and was now watching him with a look of disbelief as he spoke to the two younglings. "The threat from the intruder is indeed over. However, I am needed by Jazz to help… deal with another issue. I do not anticipate it will take more than a joor or two. In that time I will be leaving you in Smokescreen's care. You will remain here until I can return."

Both younglings looked past Prowl to see Smokescreen shifting his weight uncomfortably, looking between them and his boss. Prowl glanced back at Smokescreen as well and then smirked down at the younglings. "Do be on your best behavior."

Amid their vocal assurances that they would indeed be on their very best behavior, Prowl stood. He took his leave, though he paused, leaning in to whisper to Smokescreen. "While I may not be operating with my guardian protocols fully engaged, I assure you that both Ironhide and Chromia are. Bear that in mind. Comm. me if anything arises."

"R-Right." Smokescreen shuddered, looking at the now closed office door as if it was holding back a nest of Petrovipers rather than two adorable younglings. "I mean, yes, sir."

Smokescreen watched Prowl leave and slumped, his armor clamped to his frame. Even though he was a well-established adult, Smokescreen was still young enough to not be considered eligible permanent for caretaker responsibilities. At least according to their pre-war societal norms. He did not even have caretaker or guardian protocols installed yet, and wouldn't have for at least another decavorn.

But it was already too late to remind Prowl of that little fact. All he could do now was his best… and hope he did not screw things up bad enough to enrage Chromia or Ironhide. His only consolation was that if he messed up that bad, they would likely be going after Prowl as well for leaving Bumblebee in his care to begin with. And that would only make Prowl even madder at him.

Smokescreen looked back at the office door. "Oh, Primus…"

… … …

Prowl arrived at the indicated interrogation cell having to consciously ward off memories of the last time he had been there. He was no longer the same mech Ironhide had hauled out of the ruins of Praxus. Nor was he a prisoner. He was here in the capacity of a high-ranking officer. With a flare of his vents, Prowl signaled the door to open.

When he stepped inside he made brief optic contact with Jazz, but the silver minibot went right back to staring at the prisoner currently occupying the interrogation stool. Prowl turned his own attention to the prisoner even as Jazz crossed his arms over his chassis.

Even bound by stasis cuffs and a dampening collar, with his aft magnetized to the stool, and thus all but completely immobilized, the white and blue trimmed mech was haughty. His finely crafted and sleek frame was stiff against the restraints, vents flared defiantly, though his bright red optics were cold as he turned to look at Prowl.

Prowl met those icy optics with his own emotionless gaze even as he pinged Jazz. /Why does he have a dampener collar on?/

/He has an integrated cloaking device./ Jazz provided, like Prowl not giving any outward indication of their silent communication.

"You are a spy." Prowl said simply, addressing the prisoner.

"Congratulations." The white mech bit out in carefully articulated syllables but with a condescending air. "Yes, I am."

"Sent to spy on Iacon." Prowl did not truly ask a question, though it was the logical explanation.

"I have before." The Decepticon allowed, then flicked his shoulder armor dismissively. "But not this time."

When he volunteered nothing else, Prowl continued to stare at him as he addressed Jazz again. /Have you attempted interrogating him yet?/

/Nah./ Jazz transmitted the equivalent of an irritated huff. /He demanded a witness./

/A witness?/ Prowl had to control his surprise.

/Yeah./ Jazz sighed a tiny stream of air in resignation. /It's tha right of every prisoner – if we have tha personnel ta spare – ta have a witness during their interrogation. Usually it's a medic, but he wanted ya./

Prowl considered this for a moment then replied with careful neutrality. /I see./

Despite his attempt to keep all inflection out of his transmission, Jazz must have detected something, for he glanced at the tactician. /We didn't have tha needed personnel ta spare after Praxus./

Prowl released a vent, taking a moment to calm himself. /I remember you saying something to that effect./ He told Jazz, his frame relaxing a fraction. /No matter; you never did anything during my interrogation to necessitate a witness./

/Thanks./ Jazz paused awkwardly. How was one supposed to respond to such a comment, especially when delivered so mater-of-factly? /Anyway, he wanted ya. Sent Ratchet away, actually./

Prowl acknowledged that with a brief transmission and addressed the prisoner again, the whole exchange with Jazz having only taken a handful of seconds. "Then why are you here this time?"

At that, the Decepticon smiled with flagrant arrogance. "I'm here because of you."

"Because of me?" Prowl repeated, not showing any of the sudden surprise he actually felt.

With an attempt to lift his chin against the collar binding his neck, the Decepticon smirked coldly. "Why don't you stop wasting time? Aren't you going to get into my head and find out all of my dark secrets?"

Prowl looked at Jazz who shrugged just enough to indicate he was ready whenever Prowl was. Prowl looked back at the prisoner, not ready to give the mech what he was expecting. "In good time. What is your designation?'

Crimson optics flashed in the first hint of real emotion Prowl had seen. It was almost as if the mech was upset Prowl had not recognized him. "I am Mirage."

Prowl's optics shuttered in the only expression of his strut-deep surprise. He knew of Mirage, but had never met the mech in person. Nor had he ever seen an image file of him. Mirage had been Megatron's most secret infiltrator and it had been rumored that only Megatron, Soundwave and Starscream even knew what he actually looked like. Few even knew existed, and fewer still knew his designation at all. Jazz blinked, looking at Prowl in question, clearly not knowing enough to place the designation or its significance; Mirage was that much of a secret.

"Why did you let us catch you?" Prowl demanded sharply.

Jazz looked at him, optics wide behind his visor at the subtle change that had overcome the otherwise perfectly stoic tactician.

Mirage merely blinked, then he sneered. "I was at Simfur. I know what Soundwave did… or tried to do to you." A hint of awed respect – the first emotion not born of arrogance – slipped into Mirage's voice, "Most mechs would not have been able to resist his attack."

Prowl was stiff by that point, though he dipped his helm just enough to acknowledge the compliment. "Then why did you come here?"

Once more the veneer of arrogant confidence cracked as Mirage winced when he tried to shift his weight and could not. He looked away though his words were carefully enunciated. "I was surprised to see one of us in such a sensitive position among the Autobots; as a personal guard for the Prime. I wanted to know more. Can you blame me?"

When neither Autobot answered, Mirage released a vent of air. "But first I went to report to Megatron about what happened in Simfur."

"And?" Jazz asked when the silence stretched.

Mirage cast a dismissive look at Jazz and focused back on Prowl. "Your speculations as to Lord Megatron's intentions toward the AllSpark are correct." Disgust littered those words as Mirage's plating shuddered. "Decepticon though I am, that is a perversion I cannot abide." Red optics dilated as he focused intently on Prowl. "Because of you, I know defection is possible."

"You wish to defect?" Prowl asked softly though without obvious inflection.

"When you finally condescend to scan my processor you will see just how enraged Megatron was when word of your successful defection reached Kaon." A truly malicious smile contorted Mirage's elegant faceplate. "Starscream was nearly beat to a pulp for failing to kill you. I can only imagine how fragged off he'll be when he learns I've left him too."

"You are a Decepticon spy." Prowl pointed out bluntly. "How would you know so much about Megatron's plans and intentions."

"I was his best spy." Mirage pointed out with a flare of his vents. "Sometimes the Lord Protector forgot just how good I am. I have lots of tidbits like that you might enjoy. Unless you are too afraid to try and scan me?"

Jazz's engine gave a low rev, but he did nothing else to display his growing frustration with their prisoner. Mirage huffed. "Of course, it is also your fault Megatron has devoted so much effort into capturing the AllSpark as of late."

Prowl blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You have been able to overcome every attempt to take you out. Apparently Megatron feared that with you siding with the Autobots now, he needed a bigger advantage so he devoted more resources to Shockwave's experiments." Mirage shuddered delicately and Prowl wondered just how much the Decepticon spy knew of Shockwave's machinations.

"To what purpose?" He asked coolly.

"Megatron knows he cannot outmaneuver you now, so his only hope is to overwhelm you with incalculable numbers. Hence his need for the AllSpark." Mirage's optics lost the edge of their haughty gleam and became more calculating. "I know you have safeguarded the AllSpark. But I am here to warn you; Shockwave has not been deterred. He has simply changed focus. If and until they can get custody of the AllSpark, he is working on creating an army of combat drones. Drones: unable to feel pain, fear or even entertain the thought of surrender, not as autonomous as sparked pre-programs, but effective." Mirage made a disgusted sound. "Abominations. Proof of his cowardice and weakness that he cannot face the Autobots in honest combat."

Silence settled over the two Autobots and their bound prisoner. Then Mirage looked at Jazz, a look of cultured disdain licking his features. "I bring you the details of Shockwave's plans as surety of my intentions to defect."

Jazz's engine growled but he made no move to connect to the dataport Mirage uncovered for him. "What reason do we have to trust such a defection?"

"By choosing the course he has, Megatron has conceded that you Autobots are actually stronger than his own forces. If not he would not need to build an army of drones." Mirage's expression was pure arrogance mixed with disgust, spitting the last word out like a curse. "He no longer deserves me or my services."

Jazz was about to respond, but Prowl beat him to it, leaning forward to loom over the bound prisoner. "We will take the information you have, but that does not mean you get to defect. That is the Prime's decision. And even if he allows it, it will not be as easy as just giving us some information you think will make us trust you."

Mirage's optics widened, for the first time hinting he was not confident as he appeared. "But clearly they trust you…"

"Prowl has worked hard to earn that trust." Jazz also slid closer to the prisoner, every line of his frame that of a skilled predator. "And he was never as arrogant as you."

"But…" Mirage jerked back as far as his bonds would allow. His optics widened as Jazz stepped even closer, brandishing his cord.

"Do not resist and you will not be harmed." Prowl told him coolly, stepping aside to allow Jazz free access to the prisoner.

Mirage's optics widened, lightening with a touch of anger, though fear dominated the mech's now flaring field. He seemed unable to look anywhere besides the tip of Jazz's connector. Then he looked at Prowl and the tactician could see that near complete terror had overwhelmed the arrogance that had been there only moments before. Well could Prowl remember that same terror coursing through his own lines and spark.

"Do not fight him." Prowl heard himself commanding again, this time in the same tone he might use for a frightened sparklings. "You know this will not be pleasant regardless, but do not fight and you will not be fragmented." Then quieter he continued. "I know. I have been where you are. If you want to defect, cooperate with us fully now. It is the only way."

Mirage did not notice that Jazz had paused to give him time to process Prowl's words. The white mech was still staring at Prowl, vocalizer hissing static and Prowl was struck with the suspicion that Mirage was quite a bit younger than they had initially thought. "You ask us to trust you, Mirage." Prowl murmured almost gently, "You must trust us. Do not fight Jazz."

Mirage stared at Prowl for an astrosecond longer and then he shuttered his optics, armor clamping tighter to his frame in silent acceptance. Taking his cue, Jazz slid his cable home.

Nothing spectacular happened, except that Mirage tensed further. After a moment Jazz drummed his fingers on the white armor he had his free hand braced on. "Ya gonna lower your firewalls or do I hafta rip 'em apart?"

Armor rattling on its mountings as Mirage shivered, the Decepticon spy opened his optics to look at Jazz with some bewilderment, then up at Prowl.

"If you truly wish to defect, this will not be the only scan you will have to submit to. Your cooperation will go far to prove your intentions." Prowl stated calmly.

Mirage blinked again and then looked back at Jazz, studying the saboteur for a moment before shuttering his optics. Jazz gave a tiny, sharp nod to indicate the firewalls had been dropped. Prowl watched with outward impassivity as Mirage grimaced, tiny plates of armor along his frame tensing periodically as Jazz progressed in his scan. Jazz's initial scan had been an exercise in humility for Prowl, he had no doubt it was the same for Mirage. Well did the tactician remember the discomfort, the feeling of being revealed to a hostile audience.

Jazz frowned, the expression pulling Prowl out of his own musings. "Hmm. Looks like ya got a memory partition in your processor. Got a lotta good stuff already, but I'd wager there is something important behind that partition. Or it could be a trap."

Mirage's optics snapped open to stare at Jazz, though his lip plates remained pressed together in a grimace at the invading presence.

"His own or Soundwave?" Prowl asked.

"Soundwave." Jazz said definitively. "Definitely Soundwave's work."

Mirage's optics brightened then unfocused as his attention turned inward. "What are you talking about, Autobot? I have no non-native coding in… Oh, Primus." Crimson optics went wide as he focused back on Jazz. "What does this mean?"

"I hafta get past it. Can't leave ya with bits of Soundwave's tampering intact, not if ya really are wanting to defect." Jazz glanced meaningfully at Prowl. "Chances are that codin' there will have traps that will try ta frag my processor, if I know Soundwave. But most likely it will also be aimed at slagging your processor." Jazz smirked then. "Doesn't look like he trusted ya all that much, mech."

To both Autobot's surprise Mirage's engine growled. While Jazz braced, he was not mentally attacked as Mirage's finely crafted frame trembled with sudden fury. "That… that two-faced, hollow-chassied, glitch! The bearings of that Kaon slag-scraper to mess with my coding! Next time I…" The Decepticon cut himself off, his optics growing wide again as he looked at Jazz. "What are you going to do now?"

Jazz frowned thoughtfully, his fingers tapping absently on Mirage's armor plate. "Option one: It's the kindest and safest option and is what we do for our own when something like this is done to them. We put you in stasis then neutralize and remove the implanted coding. I'd also finish your interrogation while you were…

"I will not be off-lined!" Mirage interrupted, then wilted a little, remembering his place. "Not if I have another option."

Jazz cocked an optic ridge but nodded. "Option two: ya let me and a back-up mech attack the coding now. Then we finish the scan once that's done. Option three: we stop now and ya are classified as a hostile prisoner and we continue to treat ya like an enemy prisoner of war."

The Decepticon spy's engine revved again, though the noise was more uncomfortable than challenging. Mirage glanced at Prowl, then back at Jazz before releasing a huff of air. "It appears I have little choice." His optics flashed. "I guess I don't have much to loose at this point anyway. Just get on with it, Autobot."

Jazz blinked, then looked at Prowl as well, as if thinking Mirage had seen something in the Praxian's expression that had helped him make up his mind. But no, Prowl's faceplate was just as expressionless as it had been the moment he had walked into the cell. Jazz looked back at Mirage and nodded. "Alright. Let me get Ratchet back in here and…"

"No!" Mirage shouted and then calmed himself. "No medic."

Prowl spoke before Jazz could. "Ratchet is not like Decepticon medics, Mirage. He will not hurt you except in self-defense. None of us will."

Mirage sneered disdainfully, though both Autobots suspected it was to cover up mounting fear. "I'd rather let someone like you in my head than a medic."

Prowl frowned, fairly confident he had just been insulted. Jazz however tipped him a tiny smirk. "Ya are familiar with Soundwave's work."

"Indeed." Prowl crossed his arms over his chassis, turning a hard look onto the Decepticon prisoner. "Be aware however that, should the Prime agree to consider your defection, Ratchet will be scanning your processor, as per the protocols covering dealing with defecting Decepticons."

/Ya know,/ Jazz sent him a tight ping. /Ya could do that scan instead of the Hatchet…/

/No./ Prowl did not look away from Mirage. /I had to suffer through my own learned fear of medics – one that was even more justified than his when it came to Autobot medics especially – Mirage can do likewise./

Jazz snickered and the sound obviously troubled Mirage. /You are devious./ Then aloud he told the Decepticon. "Let us get on with it then. I will need to procure a…"

Prowl pulled Wheeljack's modified datahub from subspace and presented it to the saboteur. Jazz blinked at it as he took it from Prowl while simultaneously removing his cord from Mirage's dataport. "Huh. Ya always carry one these around?"

Prowl shrugged his doorings. "It became habit during my probation."

"Oh." Jazz gave his helm a little shake then unceremoniously plugged the hub into Mirage's still open dataport. Mirage winced as he did so, though Prowl knew from experience that it should not have hurt him. It reminded him of Bluestreak's reaction when Ratchet had plugged the datacord to download his language upgrade. But Prowl had no time to ponder that as he plugged himself into the hub.

It was an odd sensation to synch with Mirage's processor in parallel with Jazz, and that sickening sensation of being inside another's mind pressed against Prowl uncomfortably. Even so, he moved with more confidence than he felt to assume the secondary position, prepared to help Jazz as well as to protect him either from Mirage's own defenses or Soundwave's traps.

Jazz studied Mirage. "This is gonna be unpleasant."

Mirage tried to sneer, but his frame trembled too much for it to have much authority. "It's already that."

Saboteur and tactician exchanged another look before Jazz started prying at the implanted coding. As expected, the simple hack turned into a desperate battle – not just for their own processor integrity but for Mirage's as well. The young mech wheeled internally as the implanted firewall morphed under Jazz's relentless onslaught into a viral assault aimed at Jazz – as the primary hacker – while Jazz struggled to preserve the pieces of Mirage the rest of the coding tried to mutilate. Prowl's powerful battle computer proved indispensible as he had to fight for his own mind as well as Jazz while the saboteur was entirely occupied protecting Mirage's.

It was a desperate and intense battle, one that lasted for nearly half a joor. By the time it was over, all three of the involved mechs had a processor ache. They took several seconds to recover, vents heaving to cool their frames.

"Ya still with us, Mirage?" Jazz asked after several seconds.

Mirage was wincing, his helm ducked as far as the dampening collar allowed. "Unfortunately."

"Aw, it wasn't that bad." Jazz paused and shook his helm. "Yeah. Okay. It was. Prowl?"

"I believe we will all survive." Prowl expertly hid his own wince.

Vents still heaving, Mirage finally lifted his gaze to look at Jazz, glancing at Prowl but keeping most of his attention on the silver minibot. "How… why… how did you do that without fragmenting me?"

"Like Prowl told ya; we ain't gonna hurt ya unless we have ta. Ya didn't fight us so… no reason to hurt ya." Jazz looked at the prisoner levelly. "This ain't over though."

Prowl could feel distinct embarrassment cycling through the Decepticon's processor, along with wounded pride, but the spy merely released a vent and looked down with a tiny, resigned nod.

Jazz looked over at Prowl and the tactician understood without any words needing to be spoken that Jazz wanted him to stay connected, just in case they encountered another problem. At Prowl's acquiescing nod, Jazz began perusing the files now available. Prowl's optics widened infinitesimally as he could not help but be privy to the same data.

The barricade in Mirage's mind had indeed been a memory partition, one that had blocked out everything Mirage had experienced prior to becoming a Decepticon. One thing that immediately caught both Prowl and Jazz's attention was just how brief the timeframe covered. There were not enough intact memories to account for even a young adult's lifetime. The ramifications of that were as infuriating as they were staggering.

Even more disturbing was that the most recent of those previously restricted files was that of a first-frame youngling.

"Smelter take that fragging glitch!" Jazz hissed and, even though his anger was not directed at the Decepticon under his hands, Mirage flinched. Prowl was unable to do anything but nod his agreement.

Mirage's systems, however became more strained as he was privy to his own memories for the first time since they had been barricaded. He watched as the wealthy creators he no longer remembered were betrayed by business partners who had joined the Decepticons early in the war, and saw them murdered before his very optics. He remembered being handed over the large purple mech after he had been found hiding from his creator's killers.

From there it got worse as he was forcibly transferred into an already formatted adult frame – the white and blue one he now inhabited. Then came the reprogramming, which Soundwave had left him conscious for. Until it had faded into blackness. Mirage's next clear memory was of onlining in a Decepticon med bay with Soundwave standing over him, all his previous memories reduced to a collection of hazy, half-formed impressions that somehow supported the story that his team had been ambushed by Autobots and he alone had survived.

Jazz and Prowl might have been privy to the memories themselves and were thus peripherally aware of the emotional and physical pain recorded in them, but Mirage was experiencing the full weight of that trauma, all at once. Saboteur and tactician glanced at each other, neither one completely sure what to do, as Mirage tried to muffle a soft keen.

Prowl could only imagine how traumatic it would be to suddenly remember his creators and all the emotional attachments and simultaneously remember their horrific offlining. Added to that, suddenly re-experiencing his own torture at Soundwave's hands. No doubt Mirage was indeed on the brink of an emotional overload.

Unbidden, Prowl remembered Ratchet's fury when the medic had assumed Prowl was trying to force an upgrade on Bluestreak. He had known – peripherally – that when Megatron's orders had come down to kill all sparklings and younglings many caretakers and guardians (of those few that had existed in the Decepticon ranks) had pushed their charges into adult frames to spare their lives. But that had been two whole vorns after what had happened to Mirage. Never would the upright tactician had guessed something like what he had just witnessed had been done.

By all rights, Mirage should still be in his third youngling frame – or just graduating to his adult frame. Prowl was sickened to realize that his suspicions about Mirage's age had been grossly optimistic.

However, that did not change the potential threat the spy might pose.

By unspoken agreement, Prowl and Jazz let Mirage have a few moments to recover. Prowl could tell from Jazz's expression, and his mental touch through the hardline connection, that the silver mech wanted to do something for Mirage, but that he was constrained by his duty, and by the potential danger Mirage still represented. Likewise, Prowl's core programming demanded he come to a youngling's assistance, but he could not afford to forget what the mech had become.

Speaking quietly, almost regretfully, Jazz murmured, "I… I still need what ya know about the 'Cons."

"Take it!" Mirage half snarled, half keened. "Take all of it. Then put me out of my misery. I should never have survived!"

Jazz blinked and Prowl could tell the saboteur was at a loss even as he was dealing with his own fury at what had been done to Mirage.

Prowl, however recognized something he had seen in a traumatized, almost-adult youngling when he had been in the Enforcer corps in Praxus. He reacted instantly, pushing his mental presence past Jazz's into the primary position even as he bent over to grab Mirage's shoulders.

His mental and vocal tones were firm and unyielding. "No. You were a victim. That is true, but you are here now and you know the truth. Your creators would not want you to give up your spark. Not for this. You must live and overcome what Soundwave and the Decepticons have done to you!"

Jazz blinked at Prowl, startled by his intensity. Mirage blinked, looking up into blazing cobalt optics, feeling the strength of Prowl's mind against his. The mind that keened it's long deferred agony was very much that of a young-adult, not a hardened Decepticon spy. "What am I going to do?"

Prowl answered more gently, but no less intensely. "You will live and you will overcome. And the Autobots will help you."

Mirage looked at Prowl, various emotions flicking through his optics, from pain and grief to hope and fear, but they were eventually pushed back by a well-established reluctance to trust the altruistic intent of any mech and an accompanying bitterness Prowl understood all to well. Finally, the Decepticon's faceplate twisted into an angry snarl.

"How do I know you aren't just like them?" He turned his sharp red gaze onto Jazz. "Finish it. Take whatever you want. Then leave me alone."

Jazz looked at Prowl in question but when the tactician said and did nothing, he shrugged. Prowl continued to observe Mirage carefully as Jazz completed his scan. The white and blue mech shuttered his optics, a grimace taking hold of his expression, but that was understandable, especially considering he had two mechs synched with his processor. Through his tandem synch with Jazz, Prowl knew Mirage was not resisting. He was not assisting the saboteur, but he was not fighting either.

When Jazz was finally finished, he backed out of Mirage's mind and disconnected from the hub. Mirage sagged against the restraints holding him, releasing a heated vent of air, though he said nothing.

Jazz's visor brightened as he saw that Prowl did not follow his lead. /Prowl?/

/I have seen this before./ Prowl told Jazz carefully, not taking his optics from the dejected looking form before them. /I have felt a mind like his before./ Prowl glanced at Jazz briefly. /Once, when a generator overloaded and a third-frame youngling was the only survivor in the housing unit. We were unable to give the youngling reason enough to stay alive and his spark faded while we could do nothing but watch. What Soundwave did to Mirage in partitioning those memories was cruel and invasive, but might have also been done to save his life. Regardless, I do not want to loose another youngling in such a manner./

Jazz blinked. Even knowing Prowl's devotion to Bluestreak, he would never have expected the taciturn mech to care that deeply, especially about a stranger. An enemy. Even if it was born of his core coding and the duty that coding thrust upon him; Prowl was showing evidence of more than just professional interest.

/Ya know that whatever ya do here, it's being recorded./ He finally told the tactician.

Prowl canted him another look. /Alert Ratchet. Mirage should be on suicide watch./

Jazz's optics widened behind his visor and he looked at Mirage again, silently reevaluating. Then he nodded and turned to leave.

Once the silver mech was gone, Mirage turned listless optics up to Prowl. "Why are you still here?"

"Because you should not be alone." Prowl intoned evenly.

"What do you care?" Mirage spit at him angrily, though his words remained carefully articulated. "I know your reputation, you are just as emotionless as Soundwave, just as ruthless as Megatron!"

Prowl did not truly take offence, recognizing the tactic Mirage was utilizing. "You are wrong. And you are showing your true age with such immature personal attacks."

Mirage's spinal struts straightened as much as they were able with his arms bound by the stasis cuffs and his chin jutted outward defiantly. "I should be dead."

"You are a survivor. Do you want Soundwave to win?" Prowl countered coolly.

"He already has!" Mirage hissed angrily, his optics snapping with crimson fire.

"Only if you give up." Prowl shook his helm, softening his tone. "You can help the Autobots. You have skills…"

"I am a freak!" Mirage interrupted him. "That glitch made me a freak. All this time, I never questioned why I was the only one with an integrated cloaking device. But it was because I was nothing more than an experiment, a freak…"

Prowl forcibly stopped Mirage's reasoning loop through the hardline connection, earning him an angry glare. "Be angry at me if you wish." He told the young mech. "But you do not see yourself accurately. I will not let you throw your life away."

"It is my choice!"

"You are a youngling in an adult frame." Prowl shook his helm. "That is not your choice. Not yet."

Connected as they were, Prowl picked up Mirage's thoughts as the Decepticon remembered Prowl's promise that they would not harm him, unless it was in self defense. Prowl felt the spy's decision to force Prowl's hand, or at least try. It was not the first time he had seen a desperate mech attempt to get themselves offlined by attacking an Enforcer.

"This is a one-way connection." Prowl needlessly reminded the captive mech. "You cannot attack me directly."

Mirage merely growled, which turned into a howl of fury as, despite Prowl's warnings, he threw himself against Prowl's mind. The impotent attack reminded Prowl of Bluestreak's undirected rage following Praxus and the death of his creators. Since Mirage's memories had been blocked before he had been able to process his grief, he knew it was as if the trauma had just happened for him.

Prowl just let Mirage throw his helpless grief and anger at his firewalls. Constructed to withstand attacks from Soundwave and the likes of Slipshod and even Jazz, Mirage's almost mindless assault was no threat at all. Like Prowl had been, Mirage was both stasis cuffed and magnetized to the interrogation stool. That, plus the collar, restricted the young mech's movements to mere jerks and aborted struggles, but that did not stop him from throwing himself against the physical restraints in the same way he threw himself against Prowl's firewalls.

On impulse, Prowl stepped closer and put a hand on the Decepticon's shoulder, not sure what else he could do at the moment.

The physical contact caused a nearly instantaneous reaction and Mirage stilled. A moment later his mental flailing stilled as well. For several precious seconds, silence elapsed.

"Do…" Mirage looked up at him, "Do you really believe I can become an Autobot?"

Prowl nodded firmly. "The decision is not mine to grant you. But I do know that I was given the opportunity and my actions as a Decepticon were far more egregious than yours."

Mirage considered that, systems calming with every second that passed. "What… what was it like? The transition?"

Prowl eyed Mirage and then judging the mech to be stable enough for now even if far from fully recovered, unplugged his cord from the hub and then plucked the hub from Mirage's dataport. "It was… the correct thing to do. I will not mislead you, Mirage: It was not easy and required me to subject myself to their suspicions and mistrust to prove my intentions and my spark. I was responsible for doing them much arm."

Mirage blinked up at him and Prowl nodded, stepping back to give the young mech some room. "I was high enough ranking among the Decepticons to earn additional supervision during my integration. You are a spy, one of the best Megatron ever had at his disposal. That alone will generate suspicion and distrust, even among colleagues. Your… unique abilities will also make gaining our trust a challenge. But if you persevere, you may yet find a place among us."

Prowl's words were sober, not wanting to give the young spy any false hope. Likewise, Mirage considered them gravely, eyeing Prowl thoughtfully. "Assuming the Prime gives me a chance. Spies are executed."

"Among the Decepticons, yes." Prowl agreed with a nod.

Prowl received a ping on his communications system then. Recognizing the Prime's signal, he accessed it immediately. /Is the prisoner still suicidal?/

/One moment, please./ Prowl transmitted back and refocused on Mirage. "If I leave, will you seek to harm yourself?"

Mirage stared up at him and then his gaze turned inward. After a handful of seconds he looked back up at Prowl. "No. Not now." He looked away. "If I am to be killed for my actions against you Autobots, I won't deny you the pleasure of offlining me yourself."

Prowl considered the almost sarcastic reply and recognized the stress that had generated it. At least a part of Mirage was wanting to live again. Though the mech's pride had been wounded, it too was reviving. It was a good sign as to his mental stability. He nodded.

/I do not believe so, though he should be watched closely,/ Prowl finally told his leader.

/He will be./ Optimus assured him. /Please come to the Security Control Center./

/Yes, sir./ Prowl responded to the order politely then looked back at Mirage. "If you have any desire to successfully defect, do not let your pride and arrogance blind you."

With that, Prowl turned and exited that interrogation cell.

… … …

When Prowl reached the Security Center Jazz was already there, as were Optimus and Ratchet. He followed the beckoning gesture his Prime made and joined the three of them around one of the peripheral terminals. Not truly to his surprise, he saw that the security footage from the interrogation chamber was on the screen. He correctly assumed that at least one of them had been monitoring the situation from the moment Jazz had entered the cell.

"I don't know why the pit he would want you as a witness rather than myself." Ratchet groused, though he shifted to allow Prowl enough room to easily join them. "I would have understood that coming from you when you were in his position, but as far as I know, this Mirage has no reason to be afraid of Autobot medics."

Jazz shifted uncomfortably. "Probably some spark memories of the medics that helped Soundwave… reformat and reprogram him."

"There is that." Ratchet all but trembled in repressed rage at the telepathic Decepticon. "Fragging, pit-spawned, two-bit…" His vocalizer cut out into static before he was able to continue. "I would never have imagined even he would do something like that to a youngling."

"Unfortunately he has." Optimus' engine was also growling lowly in barely suppressed fury. "I begin to wonder how many others in the Decepticon ranks are likewise unwilling recruits."

"We may never know." Prowl answered softly, watching how Mirage looked around at the cell before stilling with a visible flare of his armor.

"I fear you may be right." Optimus murmured then looked up as Ironhide stepped into the Security Center. "Report?"

Ironhide huffed, crossing his arms across his chassis. "What he told the security response teams seems to be on the up and up. Somehow he did manage to circumvent all of the normal sensors, but Wheeljack's enhanced sensors detected him as soon as he entered the courtyard. We retraced his steps using the tampered sensors and discovered he managed to evade the handful of enhanced sensors scattered throughout the other parts of the base. He probably used a hacked schematic of the base to know where to go…"

"Not necessarily." Prowl interrupted calmly. "I suspect he was able to physically detect the enhanced sensors. Considering the remarkable ability he has, I would not count out that possibility. I can detect such sensors with my upgraded doorwings, though I have not yet taken the time to compare normal sensors to Wheeljack's enhanced version."

Ironhide glared at him. "Sounds like you need to work with Wheeljack on this little project."

Prowl blinked, not understanding Ironhide's irritation with him. Nonetheless he nodded formally. "Sir."

A somewhat unnatural silence settled over them and they turned their attention back to the screen. At length, Optimus Prime broke that silence. "Thoughts as to whether we should accept Mirage's defection?"

"He was a Decepticon spy. What's to say he won't continue to be one? And he can make himself invisible." Ironhide growled irritably. "None of that exactly makes him trustworthy."

"His anger toward Megatron and Soundwave is deep and genuine." Jazz countered, looking at Ironhide. "He was a spy because he was hacked by Soundwave as a youngling." He looked back at the Prime. "If he proves himself, I want 'im for my department."

When Prowl said nothing after several seconds, Optimus looked at him. "Prowl?"

"He is arrogant." Prowl said, outwardly neutral, though his optics flickered with an unreadable emotion. "But that arrogance is born of being given a remarkable ability while still a youngling in processor. While I am not inclined to trust a Decepticon spy's defection, I am myself an example of how the improbable is not necessarily impossible." Prowl looked at his leader. "If Mirage is genuine, he could prove to be very useful. I recommend the same precautions that were used during my own probation with additional measures to control his visual phasing until he has completely proven his loyalty."

Optimus considered the statements of his officers for a long handful of minutes then looked at Ratchet. "Are you prepared to perform the second scan on Mirage?"

"He did not even want me present earlier." Ratchet grumbled even though he indicated his readiness.

Prowl looked at the CMO. "He is aware that you will be scanning him next. If he changes his mind concerning his acceptance of your scan he will forfeit his chance to defect until he chooses otherwise."

Ratchet and Ironhide stared at him. Ratchet found his voice first. "That is a little harsh, especially since you should be able to identify with…"

Prowl's gaze turned icy so quickly Ratchet fell silent before Prowl even got a chance to interrupt him verbally. "That was the offer I was given and it is no more or less absolute than the terms I was required to submit to. Less perhaps, because I suspect Mirage would be given a second chance should he change his mind to allow it at a later date." The other leading Autobots just looked at him, blinking. Returning their looks evenly, Prowl continued with a disturbing amount of blandness; "While Mirage may indeed be in earnest, he was still a Decepticon spy. We must not forget that."

After a moment, Jazz sighed air through his vents. "Prowler's right, Prime. We can't let down our guard."

Ironhide nodded firmly.

Ratchet likewise released a resigned ex-vent. "Might as well get it over with. Optimus?"

"Indeed." Optimus said heavily and stood. Together he and the CMO left the Security Control Center.

As Prowl watched them leave he was hit with the unexpected suspicion as to whether a similar discussion had been had when he had been the one defecting.

"Ya look far away, Prowler." Jazz murmured softly.

Prowl blinked, looking back at Jazz, one of his doorwings flicking at the nickname. "Not so far away." He cocked an optic ridge. "Is this a common discussion for senior ranking commanders to have over defecting Decepticons?"

Jazz gave him a cheeky grin, his visor flashing enigmatically. "Only for higher profile Decepticons."

"I see." Prowl replied blandly.

"Lower ranking, run-of-the-mill Decepticons merely get their interrogation and then Ratchet's scan." Ironhide clarified in Jazz's place. "Prime gets their final reports and makes his decision from there."

Prowl looked at the weapon specialist, suspecting he knew the answer to his next question. "Other than Mirage, how many so-called 'high-profile' Decepticons have defected?"

"Just ya." Jazz pat his arm then likewise left the Security Center.

Prowl watched him go and then looked back at Ironhide, feeling the bulkier mech's attention on him.

"You really don't like Mirage." Ironhide was studying him.

"I do not dislike Mirage either." Prowl clarified. "I feel… pity for what he has been through, but he has much to prove before I either trust or welcome him here among us."

Ironhide smiled just a little before turning to leave as well. He stopped halfway to the door and addressed Prowl again, though he only turned part-way back toward him. "I hope for your sake that Bumblebee was left with a competent caregiver."

The weapon's specialist's engine gave a low growl in warning and then he walked out. Prowl watched the weapon's specialist go, wondering what the black mech's somewhat amused expression had meant before he had unceremoniously left. Had he said something wrong? If he had, why was Ironhide smirking? He had still been smirking as he had delivered his veiled warning.

Deciding it was not a mystery he would figure out, Prowl merely shut down the terminal they had been using, said his respects to Red Alert – who was manning the main security monitors – and made his own leave. He had his own duties to take care of, mainly to the two sparklings who had been left in his care; as Ironhide had so kindly reminded him. It was only when Prowl was half way back to the tactical department did he realize one notable absence in that gathering of high-ranking mechs.

Ultra Magnus, the Autobot Second in Command, had not been included.

Just as Ultra Magnus had not attended all the Command Staff briefings. Just like other little things he had noticed; like the fact that Ultra Magnus tended to defer to either Jazz or Ironhide before making his own opinion known. At first, Prowl had assumed that tendency had been the considerate actions of a commander who did not want the input of his subordinates to be stifled by their superior's. But he had also noted how, while Optimus Prime would consult with Ultra Magnus on administrative issues or general base operations, he too would first seek out Jazz, Ironhide and recently Prowl in preference to his own Second in Command about combat related issues.

That realization did not sit well with Prowl. As the Prime's Executive Officer, Ultra Magnus should be his right-hand mech. And yet, it seemed that in at least the primary issues regarding the war, Jazz, Ironhide and himself were assuming that role. For a mech like Ultra Magnus, that had to sting his pride and sense of propriety. Especially now that the Prime was turning to him, a former Decepticon whom the Commander had made no secret of disliking and distrusting for far longer than many others in the Prime's inner circle. Did that, by chance, play into why Ultra Magnus had been so antagonistic? Why Ultra Magnus, though he was no longer hostile to Prowl, remained distant and aloof? It made sense.

Filing that casual analysis aside and letting one of his secondary processors continue to mull over the situation, its implications and possible interventions for later conscious consideration, Prowl stepped into the Tactical Department.

… … …

Smokescreen checked his chronometer. Again. Prowl had been gone for nearly two joors. Surreptitiously, he snuck a peek at the two sparklings sitting next to each other on Prowl's chair. They did not entirely have their backs to one another, but sat at nearly a right angle to each other, their nearer doorwings brushing gently against the other's. Occasionally one or the other would warble excitedly or questioningly and turn to his friend, showing his datapad. They would consult together, come to a consensus and then turn away again, back to their own tasks. It was clear from the tones they used at such times that they were quite enthusiastic about the topic of their studies, but that they wanted to be careful to keep their volume down low enough not to distract the adult watching them.

That they were sitting behind the desk in Prowl's chair while he, Prowl's Second in Command, utilized the guest chair was not an irony lost on Smokescreen.

Truly they were precious little things, he had to admit. And watching them was not as difficult as he had feared at first. Why, they hardly seemed to need watching at all. But his sense of duty – and abject fear of incurring Chromia's wrath should he fail – kept him there, as superfluous as his presence seemed at the moment.

With a smile, Smokescreen turned back to his own datapad, keeping an audial tuned toward the sparklings, just in case. Less than three breems later he nearly jumped out of his armor when a tiny hand touched his leg.

"Wha…! Oh." Smokescreen released a vent, doorwings flicking in embarrassment. "Yes?"

Bluestreak was smiling up at him, a twinkle in his optic letting Smokescreen know the youngling was aware of what had just happened, though he said nothing about it. "We are studying the first level of physics and are calculating the parabolic arcs as apposed to lineal tangents. We… well, part of the assignment is to ask an adult about practical implications and applications and why accurate calculations are so important. I know you are working and everything, and I don't want to bother you, but we can't move on until we answer these questions and we want to prove to our caretakers that we can study well while in Prowl's office so that we can do this again and to do that we have to finish this assignment; do you have a breem or two to talk to us about this?"

It took Smokescreen a second to process that last, absurdly long sentence, then he blinked, looking back and forth from Bluestreak to Bumblebee. The yellow sparkling was standing behind his friend with hopeful optics. Theoretically, Smokescreen had known Bluestreak was a talker, but he never would have expected so many words at one time from such a young mechling.

For one horrifying moment, Smokescreen's processor completely blanked. Then, with a tiny shake, he reset everything and found himself nodding. "Um. Okay. Sure. I think I can spare a breem."

Bluestreak and Bumblebee lit up as if he had just promised to provide them with their favorite energon treats. Normally, sparklings did not develop that much enthusiasm for learning until they were at least into their first youngling frame. But then these two had experienced great trauma. Smokescreen was no medic to know what kind of effect that might have on their psychological development.

Smokescreen cleared his vents. "Well, one possible use is…" He fell silent as Bluestreak scrambled up his leg to settle on his thigh. "Uh…" Bumblebee likewise darted to his other leg and quickly scaled it so that he had one sparkling on each leg, both peering up at him with bright, expectant optics. "Um…"

"Yes?" Bluestreak prodded gently. "Parabolic arcs are important because…?"

Bumblebee giggled a little as Smokescreen unconsciously leaned back in the chair as if afraid of the younglings sitting on him. Looking at the yellow and black sparkling at the tiny noise and, realizing he was reacting as if the sparklings were a threat, Smokescreen released a huff of air and eased forward, offering a tiny, wry smile.

"Right." Smokescreen gathered himself. "Well, basic parabolic arcs are used to calculate the movement of a physical object that is projected outward from a given starting point." They nodded easily so he continued. "While it is used extensively in weapons development and targeting, flight maneuvers and even astronavigation and related functions, I also use them as a tactician. Here, let me show you."

Reaching around Bumblebee, he picked up his datapad from where he had set it on Prowl's desk. He cleared the screen and brought up a basic drafting program. With tiny, expectant whirs, both sparklings turned to lean against his chassis, so that they could see the datapad more easily. Smokescreen's vents hitched at the enduringly trusting gesture. He had to cycle his vocalizer before he could continue the explanation. As he progressed, his tension fell away and the stiff flare of his doorwings gradually relaxed.

Some ten breems later, all three Praxians started when the office door slid open without warning.

Torn between surprise, embarrassment at being taken by surprise and chagrin at being caught not working while on duty, Smokescreen lurched to his feet, only to drop his datapad and fling his arms arround the two sparklings as they started to slide from his armor. Bluestreak and Bumblebee, in turn, reflexively magnetized to the adult's frame, although both had slid down a foot or two since they had also jumped at the sudden intrusion.

Once all three of them were stabilized, they looked sheepishly up at the mech now staring at them from the doorway.

"It was not my intent to startle you." Prowl said rather mildly, but there was a hint of an amused smile tipping his lip plates.

"Prowl! I…" Smokescreen paused awkwardly as Bluestreak and Bumblebee adjusted their holds and climbed up his frame to perch more comfortably, one on each hip. "I was wondering when you'd be back. It's your orn off, after all."

"Hi, Prowl!" Bluestreak called happily. "Smokescreen is so smart, just like you! And he's a good teacher too!"

Smokescreen's helm dipped and his frame heated a fraction self-consciously as Bumblebee nodded vigorously. "He's teaching us lots about par-a-bolic uh… calculations. He's funny."

"Indeed?" Prowl asked, discretely capturing the image of his apprentice with the two sparklings to his private memory cache.

Bluestreak giggled and, just to prove a fall from the height of Smokescreen's lap would not have hurt him, he released his magnetic hold and launched himself into the air. He landed lightly, just to dart to Prowl. Smokescreen was in quiet amazement of how his mentor and commanding officer seemed perfectly comfortable to have a sparkling crawling over his frame, especially when Bluestreak went so far as to crawl over his chassis and press himself over Prowl's spark. That quiet amazement only doubled when Bumblebee likewise left him to join the blue and gray youngling.

Prowl did not seem even the slightest bit fazed as Bumblebee clamored over his shoulder to perch there, just in front of his doorwing. Smokescreen watched silently as Prowl greeted each sparkling with a hand between the doorwings or on a small helm and a few murmured words.

Finally Prowl looked at Smokescreen as if it was nothing special or unusual to be a climbing frame for two excitable sparklings as both took to repositioning themselves on his back, between his doorwings. "Thank you for watching over them in my stead, Smokescreen."

"No… Problem, sir…"

Prowl pretended not to notice Smokescreen's hesitation. "Seeing as the crisis has passed and, as you reminded me, this is my orn off, I am going to get back to what I was doing before."

With that, Prowl turned around and headed back into the main tactical department, the two Sparklings clinging to his dorsal plating swaying a little with his motion. Still somewhat at a loss, Smokescreen followed, standing in the office doorway as Prowl crossed the department. The black and white Praxian seemed completely oblivious to the fact that every single member of his staff stalled in their motions to watch the unlikely trio.


I hope you guys don't feel cheated out of a high-intensity fight sequence, 'cause I know a number of you were anticipating one. This was still intense, sorta, just in a different way.

Before you ask, yes this was my plan for introducing Mirage and was from the begining. I know it is quite a different take on the usual origin for Mirage, but I've already taken some artistic license in this story, so deal with it. I am considering writing another long-plot story in this same universe that follows Mirage during his integration into the autobot forces, but that will have to wait until I finish this one. :) Let me know if there is any interest in that idea. (No, I would not expect such a story to be as long as Turning Points…)

And for those of you wanting high intensity action, don't worry, there is some coming in the near future.

PS: For child of Jon Snow (and anyone else who wants to know) When we get to where Shadow Games fits in the timeline I'll point it out then. For now, it is still in the future.