Chapter Text
Prowl was living up to his name as he stalked though the halls, the familiar extra weight in his subspace both a comfort and a condemnation. That it was so normal for that weight to be there was wrong but this was the safest way. He had to make the best outcome possible.
So instead of working, usefully filling the time until his overcharged sponsor called for a pickup Prowl stalked his prey. Disguised in the mix of dirt and extra paint, with his wings tucked into an extra pocket used for undercover missions Prowl got into position. Sending a tempting message the targets came to his location. Two quick stabs straight to the sparks of his victims before the greying forms of his former sponsor and the pleasure bot madam who the sponsor was in talks with lay on the tarp Prowl brought for the purpose.
A stir in his subspace made Prowl pause as he sent comfort though his field and calmed his precious passenger back to recharge. Quick and silent Prowl began dismembering his victims for easy disposal when a voice made him pause, “What'cha doing?”
Looking at the mech standing in the opening of this alley Prowl analyzed the silent running mech in front of him. 75% probably of hunter or assassin, the best response would be, “A job, please move along.”
Instead of following his request (5% possible outcome) the mech lounged against the wall, “No can do Prowl of Praxis,” of course his attempt to scramble the transponder would not throw a professional, “ya see that mech was my job and I need some answers.”
Moving his servos from the corpse to his own lap as the autobot overlay of the bots transponder rang true, Prowl settled on his heels, “Such as?”
The Autobot Special Operative titled his helm, “What ya gain with your sponsor's death.”
The memory of his now former sponsor's faceplate twisted in a leer as little pedes and servos were forced towards him Prowl answered, “Not only did the mechs incompetence threatened thousands of lives in his position, he also kept large holes in the bases security for his own benefit.” Twisting servos in his lap, “One benefit was the mech's taste in sparkings as berthmates, which this pleasure bot would supply.”
A flare of anger from the other mech showed Prowl had made the correct calculation in revealing this part of his motivation. They went on to discuss the base security issues and other ‘benefits’ the now greying bot would twist out of it. The spec ops agent surprised Prowl by sitting next to him, “What's the plan for disposing the evidence?”
Not looking at the ops mech, “I prepared a dead zone with acid that will eat the frames completely before the orn shift changes.” Speaking to the greying frames, “However, now that you are taking me into custody that will not matter.”
“I’m not arresting you Prowler,” looking at the other mech, “I’m recruiting you.”
Looking away from him Prowl answered, “I am a cold construct, as such I am unable to swear allegiance to any cause.” With a shrug, “I doubt that you would be able to sponsor me even if I was not to be arrested for this crime.”
To his surprise the other mech unscrambled his transponder, “Special Operations Commander Jazz at ya service Prowler,” shrugging the arrest away, “and we can figure out a better way for ya to use your processor than in a cell.”
Tilting his helm to one side Prowl answers, “An alternative sentence," the weight in his subspace seemed to increase at the mech's nod. He had no right to question it but he asked, “What would that entail?”
Commander Jazz grinned, “Ya have the numbers and see the patterns, we need that to know not only where the Decepticons will hit but where we can shore up the autobots.” Continuing on this vein, “Also you have the makings of a Spec Ops mech so you have two areas fighting over your assistance.”
Consultant, his official role will be a consultant while the Special Operations will send him on suicide missions. He could work with this, he only had to buy time until he could find a place for his precious cargo before a mission offlined him. Bowing his helm Prowl answered, “That is acceptable.”