Standing next to one of the entrances, Prowl can't help but feel like the biggest and stupidest of decorations.

That doesn't stop him from running the situation over and over through his battle computer, with a new variable added every time.

He doesn't like what he gets.

Doctor Fujiyama asked them to come to the presentation for fear that his invention, some kind of advanced robot, fell in Decepticon servos.

To be sincere, that is a stupid assumption.

Any kind of robot the humans could create will be nothing more than a toy to Cybertronian, like one of those plastic dolls are to the Earthlings. It would look alike, but nothing else.

The Decepticons will get no benefit from such a theft… except for those scenarios when they do.

Yes, the materials will be primitive, as will the design. But with some changes, more or less depending on the original, they would get a distraction, a weapon, or, at the very least, some new parts.

Which is why Optimus placed his mechs in plain sight.

If they're fortunate, their mere presence will convince the Decepticons the robot is not worth the trouble.

However, if they aren't after the robot…

His quick look around goes unnoticed, and Prowl isn't really surprised.

The room is full with some of the most brilliant minds on Earth, but at the end of the day, they're still human.

And to a Decepticon, they may be far more interesting targets than the doll they were called to babysit.

So, it is them who Prowl watches closely, because of the higher chance of them being targets. And because Jazz is on the stage, hidden out of sight behind the curtains while Optimus stands by the covered robot.

It is a big robot, truth be told, and most likely inspired by the Cybertronian themselves, but the Praxian is confident that it's nothing more than that.

So, he brings his attention back to the humans.

And smiles in his processor as he listens to the chatter through the comm.

::If it works, it probably needs a long extension cord.::

::I wonder if batteries are included?:: Ratchet asks, and he's answered by more than a few snorts and chuckles.

::When they turn it on, it will probably blow the lights,:: Wheeljack adds, and there's outright laughter at that, because of course Wheeljack would know about such a thing.

Doctor Fujiyama stepping to the middle of the stage, where a microphone is waiting, makes the jokes stop.

As sure as they all are about the robot's… primitive nature, they're all curious.

"Ladies and gentlemen. First of all, allow me to welcome all of you and thank you for your assistance," the Japanese scientist starts with, his voice easily making the chatter among his peers go silent as all attention falls on him. "What you are about to see is state of the art robotics," he adds, gesturing to the covered robot, and that's all that is needed for the tarp to be pulled up—

No one would notice, but Prowl stiffens, battle computer once more running at top speed as he assesses the robot they had all been mocking a moment before…

And finds it threatening.

As they expected, it is the size of an average Cybertronian, and obviously modeled after them, though keeping a more human look. Or so it seems, because the Tactician can't find any use for the specific shape of the chest plates other than resembling a female's bosom.

However, what really catches his attention and sends his battle systems on standby is that it is armed.

The hilt protruding over a shoulder plate obviously belongs to a sword. There are fork-like short weapons—sai—on its forearms. One nunchaku is carelessly displayed in its grip.

The final touch is that its yellow optics, dim in its offlined state, are the only visible part of the faceplate, a mask much like Optimus' hiding the lower face.

And the humans are all oohing and aahing, impressed but not threatened in the least.

"This is the first female ninja robot. I have named her… Nightbird," Fujiyama explains, and this time, Prowl's tensing is visible in how his doorwings twitch a bit higher, alert, wary, and ready.

Ninja. A covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan, the functions of whom included espionage, sabotage, infiltration and assassination, with open combat in certain situations.

Better known to the Cybertronian as a Special Operations Agent.

Jazz.

Primus, let him keep his cool.

The humans have created a weapon against the Cybertronian.

It is only logical that they would search for a way to defend themselves against the Decepticons.

Yet, even as he thinks it, Prowl doesn't believe it.

That's when he finally notices what is going on around him. The humans, the scientists, are cheering.

His battle programming goes from standby to full alert, though he keeps it hidden.

Not that it matters much. With their attention elsewhere, none of the fleshlings can hear the sudden lack of noise from his systems, preserving the energy for when he decides to strike, nor the soft buzzing from his doorwings in a spark-coded warning that he hurries to silence. And neither do they notice the pale spots and lines in his optics from his targeting systems activating.

All Prowl sees are enemies.

He has to wonder if Prime knows they've been roped to act as bodyguards in a convention that aims to find ways to deactivate their race.

Justified or not, Prowl would very much like to leave this instant and research all the participants here, their work and their current projects. And depending on his findings, he wouldn't be against some… accidents to their workplaces, with loss of all data in them included.

And if someone dies… oh, what a shame.

::Prowler, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't ninja scarily efficient spark-extinguishers?:: Jazz sends through a private and thrice-encrypted comm line.

::They were.::

::Tell me you have a plan, because right now I can only come up with dropping the ceiling on them all, and Prime is not going to like that. At all.::

::I'm working on it,:: he answers, unable to say anything else because he doesn't really know either.

Prowl knows what must be done, for all their sakes, but the 'how' will require a lot more finesse and discretion.

It won't do to have Prime realizing his top officers are behind the deaths of—

"Why build a ninja robot, Doctor? Isn't that rather dangerous?" one of the humans asks, easy to locate because he's standing in front of his seat, and the Tactician uses his words as an anchor to silence the most ruthless plans he's coming up with.

It seems this is not a meeting to discuss ways of dealing with Cybertronian, but rather what they were first told about. A simple presentation of scientific advances.

"Nightbird has been constructed to demonstrate to the world the limitless capabilities of technology. She will expand the horizons of robotic research to assist mankind, and not to harm him. I assure you, she's not meant for battle, or assassinations. And I have limited her powers accordingly," Doctor Fujiyama explains off-handedly, waving away his peers' worries.

He's not fooling the Autobots.

After all, haven't the humans' projects in robotics been centered on creating servant robots instead of weapons?

If he's working on soldiers, it's because he's planning on using them.

And since he hasn't said against whom…

::Ratchet, I want that robot scanned ASAP.::

::On it.::

::Wheeljack, any data on its energy source?::

::Seems an electric battery. I'll contact Ratchet to get an in-depth scan to confirm it and work on neutralization.::

::Jazz, stay alert, but do not react unless fired on first.::

::Roger that. Tell me I can squish the doctor.::

::Later. Trailbreaker, Brawn, Mirage, Bluestreak, Ironhide, guard the entrances. I want you to be ready to block them in the event it's necessary to make an intervention.::

::A what? Why would you—?::

::Ironhide, we wait before we squish. We need to be certain of what the best course of action will be before we take such drastic measures.::

::They're planning on scrapping us!::

::I'm working on it.::

And all the while, the lines are blocked from Optimus, no one contacting him.

Because they all know what the Prime will say, but they're soldiers.

They see a threat and they neutralize it, regardless of it wearing a friendly or inoffensive visage. But the way they do it is what Prowl and Jazz are here for.

They've been playing hero ever since they first got out of stasis, yet the humans are working on ways to turn against them.

Protectors or not, any who threatens them will be dealt with. Even if Optimus doesn't approve.

Prowl won't let them be played like fools just because they've been nice.

Not ever again.

All such thoughts are quickly wiped from his processor as soon as the sounds of shooting reach his audials. A moment later, Trailbreaker falls to the ground with a well-known red and black Cassette on his back, while an identical one colored blue and purple turns his arms into pile-drivers just inside the door.

Prowl jerks as he tries to keep his balance through the quaking, taking his riffle from subspace—

::Wait! We can't risk hurting the humans!::

For an instant, barely a nanoklik after receiving the order from his Prime, all the Tactician can do is fight against his battle computer to not end in stasis on the floor.

Is he glitched?!

All of Prowl's programming, all of his logic, is screaming to get rid of the menace. A couple of well-placed shots from any of them would do it, before any humans get hurt.

But Prime is telling them to not shoot at the Decepticons, to not move at all, because of some panicked organics rushing all around the room, when the ceiling is literally falling on them?

Not only are the humans dying under the falling concrete and metal, but they're going to get themselves deactivated if they don't neutralize the threat!

… But Prime ordered.

Stiffening an enraged roar, Prowl directs his anger instead to the doors at his back, locked due to the quakes Rumble is creating, and rips them open to allow the panicked fleshlings to run away.

Go, squish yourselves somewhere where it is not my problem.

Then, he turns around, aims—

Plasma burns against his bumper, the impact throwing him against the wall doorwings first. This time, he does curse out loud.

Or, at least, he thinks he does.

"The humans have evacuated. Autobots, attack!"

When we're back at the Ark, Prime, I swear—

Forcing his optics to reboot and focus, Prowl tries to get back to his pedes—

And falls down again with a grimace and a spurt of static.

It isn't just plasma burning through metal and wires and joints.

His own riffle is broken in two over his middle, the acid pellets it had been loaded with now eating at his very metal.

Prowl can only whimper silently and dig his own clawed dactyls into joints to rip out the acid-covered plating, pulling it off before the corrosive can get to his inner workings. Though, it isn't doing much for his already damaged joints.

And that's when the ceiling is lifted like a lid, and Thundercracker and Starscream swoop in to steal the ninja robot, forgotten on the stage until now, before the Decepticons get into the Seeker's cockpits and—

The ceiling is literally dropped on them.

By the time they're all finally dug out, the Decepticons are long gone.

"I'm sorry that we failed you and the university, Doctor Fujiyama."

Far as he is, Prowl can still easily listen in on the conversation between Prime and the human while Ratchet tweaks his damaged joints back into a somewhat useful state.

"It could not have been foreseen, Mister Prime."

"Nevertheless, I vow that we will return the robot ninja to you as quick as possible."

::Will we?:: Jazz asks through comm, though none of the officers gives any sign of their conversation on the outside.

::Not if I have a say in the matter,:: he answers, checking his repairs by moving a bit after the Medic goes to see to Brawn and Ironhide.

::Good.::

"I only beg that she will be returned unharmed. The technical components are irreplaceable and are needed for research," Fujiyama adds, and Prowl knows as soon as he spots the saboteur approaching Prime that they are both thinking the same.

"Don't worry, Doctor Fujiyama. We'll bring the little lady back in perfect condition. I hope," the saboteur replies as cheerfully and reassuring as ever, carefully adding those last two words.

"Oh, thank you, thank you! I trust that you will."

::But we can't be held accountable for what the Decepticons will do to his toy, can we?::

Instead of answering verbally, Prowl gives a tiny smirk along a flutter of his doorwings. And while the movement may be disregarded, the soft hum created with it is just loud enough for Jazz's sensors to detect and understand as an affirmative.

They have a way of dealing with the robot now, which is good.

The bad news is that Fujiyama managed to get out of the attack uninjured.

But that's fine too. A car accident isn't hard to arrange.


UPDATED 09/01/2023: Corrected Grammar.


AN: Osaeru: 'Suppressed' in Japanese.

Whoa, the Autobots turned out a lot darker than I thought... but with good reason. Now, to see what happens when Nightbird is finally activated...