Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Uhhg!" A black-armored femme groaned as she sat up in the purple berth she and her partner occupied.

Well, he wasn't really a partner. He was her newest meal ticket, though a much more promising one than the last mech.

"Would it kill you to ease up every once and awhile, my lord?" The femme hissed as she latched up her pelvic armor, grimacing at the scuffs she gained on her voluptuous hips. She didn't mind the attention it'd bring her, but they were a pain to buff out.

"I'll 'ease up' when I feel like it, Flamewar." The mech hissed, watching her dress without shame. "Beides, I have to lay claim on what's mine."

"Well next time, lay your 'claim' on a less sensitive body part. It's hard to get dings out of my hips..." She sighed, adjusting her breastplate. "That'll be six Energon cubes."

Starscream scoffed. "Darling, that isn't fair to me. It was four last time." He stood up and hooked a finger under Flamewar's chin. "Can't we compromise?"

Flamewar gave the sweetest smile, her purple optics half-lidded. "You didn't ask for an intake-job the last time. Now pay up." She snapped the last line, slapping his hand away from her chin. "I swear, it's like pulling denta with you. I know you and your trine have a whole stash worth its weight in credits."

Starscream pursed his lips, scowling at the femme as he reached into his subspace and pulled out the once commonly seen goods. Six Energon cubes fell into Flamewar's elegant servo, her fingers clenching around the sustenance immediately. She smiled, her tiny fangs glimmering.

"Thank you, darling. It's always pleasure." She gave the seeker a wink, throwing back her unwanted pet name.

"If you charge any higher, I'll find a new femme to frag around with." He growled.

"But Lord Starscream, I'm the only one that can handle your frame. And the only one that's ever responded to your calls." Flamewar remarked innocently, making the seeker hiss.

"Same time next week, sweetspark." She bade farewell, letting her hips do the waving for her.

Starscream glared at the back of her head, though his optics trailed down to get one last look at the place he marked. "Damn femme..."

~~~

Flamewar daintily sipped away the second Energon cube, sitting with on leg crossed over the other as she sat on the balcony of her newly acquired apartment. It was much better than the last place she called home, the wastelands near Praxes, now she was in upper Iacon. She managed to snag this place undercover, claiming to be a neutral that escaped Kaon. It wasn't easy, but Flamewar managed to sneak past the Autobot guards every other night to perform her services for upper Decepticon commad. 'Personal entertainment' she called it. She tried to offer the same rates under the table to Autobots, under the name of 'Infernia' but they were too clingy, always wanting something more. Please. If she wanted romance, she would've given this up a long time ago...

Flamewar sighed, finishing her drink. Her lavender lips pursing as bitter aftertaste wrought her intake. Figures Starscream would give her the silty cubes.

Throwing the empty container aside, Flamewar leaned back on her palms, relishing in the starlight. Instead of her usual black sheen, she had camouflaged herself as a dark purple femme with blue flames on her chassis armor. Her ability was the art of disguise, able to change her color scheme at will. As well as being fireproof. Fire was her favorite material. It was warm, welcoming and never left her cold.

Hence why she gave herself such a powerful title. It struck fear into her enemies and desire into her admierers.

Speaking of enemies....

Dark optics framed with black fiber-lashes gazed down into one of the dimly-lit streets of upper Iacon. A lone figure had dipped into an alleyway merely a second ago, yet Flamewar had caught it in time to pinpoint its location.

"Maybe this idiot has some Energon left in him..." She murmured, sneering before she jumped out of the balcony and hooked her hands onto the bars of a nearby fire-escape. She kept swinging onto smaller balconies, using her momentum to reach her destination. Landing on a surface with full force would alert her target; if she kept moving, and avoided direct contact with any surfaces, she could sneak up on her prey with ease. Like an earth spider, jumping from thread to thread on her massive web.

~~~

The shadows of the night stretched over the backstreets of Iacon, the only sources of light coming from street lamps or the occasional late night business. Even though it was a cleaner city, upper Iacon had its underbelly. One just had to look in the right places at the right time.

Rung knew this to be true. He may look like an uppity scholar in the day, but during undercover operations, he could blend into any backdrop. His smaller stature provided an unassuming front, and an easier time hiding. Dark body paint helped as well. Tonight, he was hot on the trail for a suspected Autobot defector, whom had valuble information regarding upcoming battle plans. If this guy got away, the Cons could use the intel to predict when to raid the Autobots' supply when they had less mech-power to guard their supplies. It had happened before...

But as he turned a corner, Rung could see that his trail was growing cold. The suspect was a mini-con, and a crafty one at that. Rung reached into his subspace and pulled out a heat-sensing scanner. Adjusting his goggles, the undercover mech looked into the screen to check for any signs of life.

By no means was Rung a thoughtless bot. Like many before him, he'd let down his guard for one moment too long, and would pay the price.

Studying the scanner's readings had made him lose focus on his surroundings, and his grey paint-covered pedes had started pacing forward, coasting the glow of an old street lamp. A single lick of light brushed the tip of his pede for half a second.

Just enough time for someone to find him.

~~~~

The built up momentum of Flamewar's parkouring landed on her prey's frame, pinning it to the ground.

The femme stood over the downed mech with a high-heeled pede on his chassis.

Shocked aquamarine optics met sly lavender. The bot under Flamewar's pede stared up at her, not saying a word.

"What's wrong, too scared to talk? Or has my beauty left you speechless?" She teased, leaning over the mech. She smiled deviously. "Got any Energon on you, sweetspark?"

"No." The mech answered plainly, despite his startled looks.

Flamewar pouted, but she didn't let him go. "Now, don't lie to little ol' me. You Autobots always have emergency rations on you." The femme changed her position, her legs pinning him underneath her as she sat on his chassis, her head turned down to look at him in the optics.

"Or maybe we could trade. Give me your rations, and I'll give you a frag." She chuckled. "I know you haven't had a femme in ages. We're a luxury in that way. So, what do you say, little guy? Deal?"

Flamewar, obviously, liked to play with her food. She liked to gamble with her victims.

"I say..." The grey mech spoke in an even tone despite his situation and purposal. "You should learn some decency."

The mech's leg shot up behind Flamewar, landing her shoulder joint, dislocating it. The femme shrieked, grimacing in pain. Her optics darted back down to the offender, winding back her arm to punch him.

But only the ground laid in between her legs.

"Wha--!!"

Flamewar looked over her shoulder, hearing movement. A projectile hit her in the middle of her back, following an electric shock ravaging her frame. The femme screeched as the assault on her systems paralyzed her.

So much for easy prey...

There, Flamewar laid on her front in the alleyway, groaning as leftover shocks made her limbs and wings twitch periodically. 'I thought small mechs were supposed to be easy pickings...' she thought to herself.

Something knelt beside her, and her purple optics darted up as far as they could. A grey faceplate with a blue visor stared down at her, his expression unreadable.

"You really need to work on your time management. Your monolouging cost you a vital click." The spy mech lectured Flamewar as if she were a student of his, and not his assailant.

The femme's insides were boiling, her optics flared as the mech scolded her. The nerve of this Autobot...

Before she could regain her ability to speak, the mech disappeared into the shadows. Flamewar's mind was filled with killing intent as she imagined all the methods of torture she'd reserve for that visor-wearing twig of a mech.

Though she was immediately distracted by a feint blue glow on a nearby crate.

Flamewar picked up the glittering object, and furrowed her brow. An Energon cube had been left behind.

"That fragger..." She growled. Now he was just rubbing it in. She didn't need pity!

"Energon's Energon...nontheless." She decided to save her rage for another Bartle as she threw back the liquid. Though she couldn't help but wonder how that dark mech got the drop on her so quickly, especially with that less than noteworthy stature.

Chapter Text

Time: Morning
Location: Iacon, Cybertronian Military Enforcers HQ

Prowl entered the main office area to check in on his units, his priority being the undercover unit in particular.

'Hope he tracked down that double-agent suspect. I'm in need of some good news.' The Cheif Enforcer thought to himself with a sigh. These days, the ongoing war plaguing Cybertron paled in comparison to trying to maintain what little order there was left in upper Iacon, the last bastion of a civil society, as many would say.

The recent lull was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing; Prowl was able to keep his men safe and stationed within Iacon, the mission rates rising to successful once more. He could even give some of them days off for holidays once more. Those that deserve it, at least. There was some semblance of normalcy again.

The curse? Some of the younger recruits took this opportunity of slow activity to act like school younglings...

Fireflight had ran passed Prowl, startling the Cheif. Air Raid soon followed, passing him by on the opposite side.

"Why the rush, gentlemechs?" Prowl growled out, his voice rising.

"It was all his idea!" Air Raid bellowed, pointing down the hallway.

Prowl closed his optics, taking a deep breath before continuing down the corridor towards the Spec-Ops office area.

Not many bots were allowed back there, so Prowl had an idea of how the two Aerialbots managed to pass the security lock that required a key card.

"That bolthead took my copy, I bet." Prowl muttered as he keyed himself in. "Apparently he thinks this is still the youth sector..."

Entering the large corridor, Prowl scanned the area. Every office of the Spec-ops agents were closed, all except for one. And he could hear the all too familiar chattering of a certain Praxian deputy coming from the half-opened door.

Prowl wasn't having it. He straightened his doorwings and marched up towards the officeroom.

~~~~

"And when you saved that Minibot from those gang members back in Kaon, that was so cool! It's true, right? Please, please tell me it's true." Bluestreak spoke with the excitment of a youngling meeting the Prime. Though the mech in question was far from it. Physically, at least.

A lanky, average-looking bot sat across from the excited mechling, his thick brow-plates knitted in concentration as his goggle-covered optics were fixated on a small mechanism of chips and wires. One hand held a tool while the other held up a data chip.

"It could be true. Or it couldn't be. I'm not allowed to talk about specific missions. You know that." The orange and cream mech reiterated, patience in his voice despite his hard expression. He was used to the endless chatter of young recruits.

"I know, I know~but can't you tell me just one detail? Just to confirm that you're one of Iacon's best elite spies! Then I can say I know someone important!"

"You're older brother's important." The small mech pointed out without looking up from his work.

Blustreak sighed dramatically. "That's not the same, Rung! I'm talking about someone that's not my family. Besides, you're alot more fun to hang out with." Bluestreak added, leaning back in his chair.

"I've been described as alot of things, but 'fun' was never one of them." Rung commented, hearing the mechling snort.

"Probably because you don't nag me or anything. You're so easy to talk to." Bluestreak plucked at his chevron absent-mindedly.

"He dose that because he loves you, Blue. You know that deep down." Rung insisted, sighing.

"He dosen't have to do it anymore. I'm older now--Did you just call me 'Blue'?"

Rung hummed an affirmation.

Bluestreak scoffed. "I told you, I'm too old for that nickname. Why dose everyone keep using it?"

"Because you haven't changed since you first came here fresh out of the academy."

"But I--"

"Are you through with interrupting your superiors' work?" A monotone voice froze Bluestreak in place.

"Chief." Rung acknowledged Prowl without looking up from his work.

"Air Raid and Fireflight were running down the hall, away from the Special-Ops entrance. That dosen't make any sense..." Prowl eyed the young recruit, who was currently looking at anything else but the Head Enforcer.

"Because one needs a key card to access this area. Yet here you are." Prowl's glare darkened. "If my memory banks serve, I forbade you from my office due to multiple complaints of mechlings running around in restricted areas."

"Uh...R-Rung let us in...?"

"Don't drag me into this." Rung warned the young bot, glancing up with furrowed brows.

"Don't lie. I'm sick and tired of hearing excuses from you." Prowl put his hands on his hips, his disappointment as evident as his anger. "Just because you view this job as some sort of game, dosen't mean I'll let you treat it like one. We're at war, Bluestreak."

"But we're in a lull."

"Dosen't matter. You'll follow protocol. And protocol for interrupting other people's jobs is seven cycles of double-shifts, non-paid overtime and a moon of menial labour in the Ant-hound kennels."

Bluestreak's mouth hung open. "Oh come on! We just wanted to see what the Spec-ops office looked like! And it was Air Raid's idea in the first place!"

"Air Raid and Fireflight will join you in your punishment. Don't worry about that."

"Come on, Prowl!"

"Come on, yourself. Get out of here and report to Barricade for your first double-shift."

Rung watched as the mechling glared up at his commanding officer, but said no more as he turned and marched out of the office.

"I'm sorry you had to endure his immaturity." Prowl spoke up after a long pause. "I don't know why he insists on acting like a youngling."

"He's not much older than one. I'd be surprised if he didn't act like a kid." Rung responded, pushing aside his project in favor of opening up his computer screens. "I can show you this now though. The double-agent suspect, I tracked him two nights ago."

Prowl's doorwings straightened out with piqued interest, minding them when he looked over Rung's shoulder as he studied the transparent green screen that showed bodycam footage. Rung's short stature provided a good view of minibots and their profiles, even in the darkness of alleyways.

"What'd you manage to find out?" Prowl inquired stoically, though his blue optics shimmered with eagerness. He wanted this suspect brought in ASAP.

"I managed to track him down in an alley leading to a weak point in a steel wall. I suspected it was a secret passage way to southern Kaon, at least, a passage to a network that leads to the place. Preceptor and Red Alert are still trying to untangle the underground routes with the data Blaster and I snagged from Lockdown when he was imprisoned." Rung sighed. "Even though we all know he should've stayed locked up."

"That negotiation was not up to me. Sentinel was breathing down my back-struts to secure a connection with a third party working with the Cons." Prowl grumbled.

Rung raised his hands slightly, mocking surrender. "Merely an opinion. Nothing against anyone."

Prowl let it be. "So you tracked him down near a weak point..."

"And got his estimates. Height, weight, alt-mode type, and tread marks." Rung continued, playing the footage. It showed a shadowy urban area dotted with dim street lamps. A lone glitch-mouse scurried past the pede of an undercover Rung as he crept closer to a lone figure that was driving towards a streetcorner. The suspect transformed into his route mode and jogged the rest of the path.

"I saw light purple hues on his chassis and dark tan paint on his arms and legs. That narrows it down to a few small time crooks. But I don't want to jump to conclusions. This guy could have camouflage abilities."

"Sometimes, your thoroughness pays off, Rung." Prowl commented, Rung giving him a flat look.

"That 'sometimes' makes me wonder if you really mean it." The orange bot had turned his helm to speak to his superior, inadvertently taking his attention off the screen when it cut to a black and silver pede stepping on Rung's dark grey chassis. A black femme patterned with flames and a pair of large wings stood over the body-cam's owner, her light purple optics glowing dangerously.

"What's wrong, too scared to talk? Or has my beauty left you speechless?" The speaker echoed.

Rung's head snapped back to the screen while Prowl's optics widened.

The Head Enforcer couldn't help but stare while Rung pinched his olfactory ridge. "As you can see, I ran into some trouble...."

"Hey, Prowler! Barricade took a lunch break so I'll circle back when--WHOA!!" A lone Bluestreak suddenly reappeared in the office doorway, his voice cracking when he laid optics on the video feed of the mystery femme. "Who's the babe?" The mechling spared no time in getting answers.

"Get out, this is classified information." Prowl snarled, his optics filled with rage as he gave the rookie a look of death.

"Oh, oh sure! I'm sure it's classified. You can't even let your own mesh and energon have a peek?!"

"GET OUT." Prowl seldom raised his voice, but nobody could blame him for yelling at the mechling that seemed hellbent on testing professional boundaries.

Bluestreak held up his hands, backing out of the doorway. "Fine, I get it. You don't wanna share." Before anyone could argue with him, Bluestreak retreated.

"....I can see why you're particularly hard on him." Rung heard the stress in Prowl's wings as they creaked downwards.

"Not hard enough, apparently." The cheif shook his head, looking back at the feed. "This is the trouble you ran into, huh?" Prowl tried to not stare at the screen as the femme pinned Rung between her thighs, offering an extremely suggestive display.

"Yes. Though I have no idea who she was. Probably a street-femme turned Energon thief." Rung guessed from her decorated frame, the flame graphic embossing her curvey chassis. She was definitely pretty, if anything.

"Not the worst scenario you've ever been in, obviously..." Prowl muttered, Rung only scoffing.

"Was Bluestreak correct when he said you don't want to share?"

"Don't encourage him."

Rung rolled his eyes playfully, and continued to explain the scene. "She threw me off the suspect's trail, but I'm positive they weren't working together. She never showed up on my radar during the stake outs."

"I'm leaning toward that as well. Her choice in paint doesn't say anything covert about her. Very distinct." Prowl watched the feed of Rung kneeling beside the downed femme. "Didn't think you could take her down that quickly..."

"It's something I learned at my pervious job. You have to use the art of surprise."

Prowl nodded, processing the information. "Must've slipped my processor." He changed the subject. "Try again tomorrow night. And if the flame-painted femme shows up once more, do what you must."

"Understood." Rung stopped the recording and closed out of the tab, turning his attention to other tasks that needed to be done.

Chapter Text

Flamewar managed to sneak back into her condo later that night after her partially botched outing.

Right now, it was time to go back to the drawing board. And the shower.

"Fireglide, my pet~" The femme called as she stepped out of the washroom, a chorus of metallic clicks and panting soon turning the corner.

A black and red Antillien Hound trotted across the living room and leapt onto the couch, it's red-tipped tail wagging gleefully.

"There's my little terror, such a good girl." Flamewar cupped the pup's head with both servos, giving her sought-out attention.

"Here we go, Momma managed to snag you some treats." She crooned as she plucked out a box of Ant-hound bits from the kitchen cupboard. She opened the bag and poured it into the animal's bowl, ignoring the half-empty feeling she had in her own tanks. She was still hungry...

'If only he opened up his cellar like he did his wallet, that manhandling cretin.' The femme's thoughts echoed her frustration. While Credits were an accepted currency on Cybertron, Energon had the real value. Getting it nowadays, even in the lull of war, was not as easy as some predicted. Many advisors foolishly thought a hefty surplus of Energon was on the way out of the mines, hence the tension-filled ceasefires happening on either side. But in reality, the temporary peace meant that bots were getting desperate. Their reserves depleted, both Decepticons and Autobots were racing to find more Energon crystals or alternatives to produce at a quick rate. Only the military, medical teams, and middle to upper-class could get their servos on any forms of sustenance. Raw, purified or dirty; it didn't matter. But Lord Starscream had the purest forms of it.

This lead to Flamewar's current, and most promising operation; offering company for a high-paying mech. Femmes were a coveted luxury to many mechs, particularly on the Decepticon side. An above average-looking femme would make a fortune.

Hence the apartment; though her meals were small, they were constant. Not many could say that had three rations per cycle, and Flamewar knew that. Though she didn't care for those poor folk. It was their problem, not hers.

Petting Fireglide's back, the femme laid back on the couch, her mind wandering. That dray grey mech put up for of a fight then she thought he would. He couldn't have been that tall. Up to her chassis, at most.

'Must've been a mod.' She thought, gazing out of the glass doors that led out to a balcony. The ceasefire allowed some buildings to be utilized again, lights from each room dotting the ruin-filled cityscape.

Flamewar didn't like to dwell, but something about that small, pesky spitfire of a mech made her wrack her processor. And those clunky-looking optics showed focus, calculated in every way.

"Fireglide, you would not believe the beating I took from this mech. An absolute rust-shrimp he was!" Flamewar bawked, letting the canine bot lay on her lap as she stroked her on the couch. "This stays between us; but I must admit that I enjoyed the change of outcome. It was getting boring with just mini-Cons to throw around out there." She pulled out the little gift her assailant left for her, now empty of its contents.

"How noble of him..." She hissed to herself, swirling the remnants of its contents. Though it looked smoother than the wing lord's...

Flamewar sighed, mourning the empty cube. She wanted more.

No matter. It was done. The femme's violet optics drifted towards the bright city lights that dwelled below her perched home. She wondered if she could have a rematch with that mech, or at least see him out in the wild of Iacon.

Maybe she could entertain herself during this lull by playing a game of 'guess who'.

"Fireglide, how about I take you on a walk tomorrow?" She purred to the ant-hound, letting the animal lick her cheekplate. "Hm~yes, that's a good idea."

Maybe some sight-seeing will help her get some clues. Fresh air wouldn't hurt, either. This was going to be interesting.

"That, or I find a mech that'll be more generous in payments. Either way, I win." She sneered.

~~~~~~~~

The Ant-Hound kennel was run by two mechs: Whirl and Fix-It. Fix-It, being a minibot, was tasked with the paperwork of the kennel. Whirl, on the other hand, was responsible for the cleaning and feeding of the anima.

Though today that changed. For the next moon, Whirl was going to have a whole team under his command.

Bluestreak, Air Raid and Fireflight were loittering in the kennel's lobby area where the hounds entered and exited.

"I'm not cleaning the lubricant." Fireflight snapped, Air Raid repeating this as well.

Bluestreak gave a shocked scoff. "Are you--You guys suck! It was your idea in the first place, Fireflight!" The mechling pointed accusingly to the red and white Arielbot. Fireflight glared at the silver bot.

"If you didn't stay behind to pester Rung than none of us would be here! You're such a child." Air Raid nodded as his fellow Airelbot chewed out the young Enforcer.

"Whoever started it, it doesn't matter cuz I'm finishing it." A blue one-optic mech came around the corner, holding a few leashes in one clawed servo. "You three are taking over my job for the time being. Lucky you!"

The three mechlings said nothing, Bluestreak plucked at his chevron quietly.

"Wow, hold back the chatter, you guys." Whirl rolled his optic. "Kay. I'm not good with names. You know me though, Whirl. Only mech with one optic. That's how you can remember. And you're Prowl's brother." Whirl pointed to Bluestreak.

The mechling nodded slowly. "Yeah..."

"You really are his polar opposite. And you two...you two are part of the Arielbots. That's all I know. Dosen't help that both of you are red."

"I'm Fireflight, he's Air Raid." Fireflight gestured to himself and his teammate.

"Yeaaah...Fire and Air. Those are your names now. And you," Whirl pointed to Bluestreak. "You're Blue. And if I forget those names, you'll be one, two and three then." The one-optic mech rasped. "Great introductions. Okay, here's the leashes. You each get one. Follow me and KEEP YOUR SERVOS AT YOUR SIDES." Whirl barked. "I just finished filing a bite report and I'm not doing that slag again."

A unified groan erupted from the trio. "Haha, you guys sound like old Megabite when he howls." Whirl cackled. At least one bot was enjoying his shift.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Really now?" Rung trailed off, feeling his optics glaze over.

He was tasked with helping Kup with his paperwork today.

"Yeah. She's a beaut, ain't she?" The elder Enforcer agent sneered as he pointed to one of the many pin-up femme pictures in and on his desk. "Got her from a servo-wrestling centuries back. Back before the databanks had these on demand." Kup explained.

"Riveting..." Rung knew better. Just keep on responding and he'd be satisfied. Ever since the incident, wise old Kup hasn't been the same. But he still maintained his knowledge...it was just hard to dig up. Thanks to his many years of loyalty, there was a silent agreement to watch over the senile mech.

Another mech was working in the large office space as Rung aided Kup, a black and white mech with a seemingly permanent soft smile. He had a relaxed heir about him, and always had a knowing gleam behind his optic visor, as if he knew something that others didn't. Though this may be true, given his position.

"Havin fun, lil' mech?" The cool bot teased Rung as he pointed at a datapad for Kup to look over, telling him to put away his collection for now.

"I wouldn't say 'fun' but I'm definitely getting my patience tested. Again..." Rung discreetly hid the pin-up photo from Kup's field of vision. Seeing that the old veteran was behaving, he turned his attention to his other coworker.

"I thought it was your turn to moniter him." Rung brought up, eyeing the black and white mech with a questionable raise of his thick brow.

"Hey, I'm busy with decoding that slag-ware we nabbed from Lockdown." The other mech shrugged innocently. "Sides, you're good at watchin' others."

"I still wish you gave the role of veteran advisor more consideration, Jazz. You're good at being in the know." Rung reiterated.

Jazz shook his head, waving his servo away at the notion. "Nah, I like bein' in the field. That's my jam. Can't stay at a desk every cycle."

"If it were up to you, you'd be out there till you offlined of natural causes..." Rung sighed, glancing back at his responsibility. "Kup--keep reading. Put down the photo." He snapped.

Jazz stifled a chuckle. Rung shot him a look.

Kup grumbled to himself, reading the datapad he was forced to.

Jazz kept typing out his codes, and a screen popped up when he unraveled more shovel-ware. He whistled. "Well, isn't that interestin'...."

~~~~~~

Chapter Text

~~~~~~

Whirl led the trio of mechlings to another area of the Enforcer HQ. Even though he wasn't officially a caretaker of these anima, the Autobot copter decided that it wouldn't hurt to at least be aware of this wing.

"And sometimes, on rare occasions, when you're done with the kennel; you guys will come help at the stable."

"WHY?!" Air Raid finally let his frustration be known, being true to his namesake.

A few shreiks erupted from behind the stable door, followed by heavy trampling pedes.

"Great! You get to pick up their waste product now." Whirl pointed at the mechling. "Equinoids don't like sudden noises when they're not out on the job."

Fireflight and Bluestreak glared at their companion. "Your mess, dude." The other arielbot jabbed Air Raid in the chassis, only to recieve a growl.

"Well, they probably scattered away from the door. So we won't have to worry about the younger ones trying to escape." Whirl shrugged, pressing a button the pulled open the heavy automatic doors to their destination.

What was revealed to the mechlings were Cybertron's finest mounts; they were not vehicles or substitutes to alt-modes, but ancient and loyal companions that helped build the civilization that was Cybertron as a whole.

The Equinoids: Cybertron's proudest form of fauna; next to Ant-Hounds, these members of the planet's anima were viewed as fellow workers and friends.

Bluestreak would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed by these beasts. It was technically his first time seeing them so up close and personal. Prowl had one, a mare named Anthem, but she had been stolen by some unknown party back when Bluestreak was still a sparkling. The young mech could still recall the soft intakes of hers brushing on his faceplate....

"The equinoids here are well-trained. Not as wild as their plains cousins. But still hot-footed when they wanna be. Mind your servos and pedes. I'll just laugh if you get hurt." Whirl pointed to a large Equinoids with a golden flame-like mane and tail, each steed had this type of style but in different colors. It was like stardust hovering over their necks and around their tail limbs.

"That golden one's the lead mare; Symphia. She dosen't like mechlings, so leave her to the older officers."

The Autobot copter gestured to a few other steeds. One with green mane, another with orange, and another with purple.

"Green's Beatdrop, orange is Samba, and the purple one is Requiem. They'll be your assigned mounts in case we need you for backup on the streets." Whirl explained. "We'll give you guys a crash course with them tomorrow."

"Why not today though? Fireflight asked, becoming curious about Equinoids. He hadn't been interested in something work-related for awhile.

"Because I don't feel like it right now. Me or Fix-It will get you all acquainted. Hopefully it's Fix-It..." Whirl muttered the last part.

"Why though?" Fireflight prodded.

"Cuz it's his turn to teach you guys something." Whirl complained. "Anyway, you three won't work in here too often. But Prowl wants you to bond with at least one mount. Again, just in case we need backup. These three are easy to please, so it won't take too long to earn their trust."

As Whirl finished up with the orientation, Bluestreak couldn't stop watching Requiem, the purple-maned steed. She eyed the mechling with a strange gleam in her optic, but merely shook her head after a moment, letting her flames flitter. Her olfactory vents flaring with exhaust as she pawed the ground once, fidgeting.

Bluestreak couldn't shake the strange sensation he felt when he gazed into those optics. Serenity? Familiarity? Enchantment?

"Air Raid, go dump the waste into that container in the corner. The sooner you do, the sooner we can get to the best part of the feild trip." Whirl lead the mechling group out of the stables once the aforementioned Arialbot disposed of the Enqinoid's mess. He took one last glance at the area, only to see that one mechling wasn't following him.

Bluestreak's optics were glued on Requiem, whom approached the fence where the young Autobot stood behind. She huffed her nostrils, her warm exhaust brushing against his chassis

"Hey, kid! You can play with the ponies later. Get moving." Whirl called to the mechling, startling him.

"Y-Yeah, coming!" Bluestreak ran off towards the stable exit where the group was. Requiem watched him leave, her ears pricked forward.

Safe to say, the recruit understood why Prowl loved his lost steed so much. For his spark had been bitten by the Equinoid bug as well.

"What's your favorite part anyway, Whirl?" Fireflight asked as they all left the stable.

"Paperwork! But this time, with a twist!" The copter beamed, his single optic brightening. The three mechlings gave him an expecting look, curious as to how paperwork could be greeted with such joy.

"How so?" Air Raid asked.

Whirl pointed hid clampers at the trio of friends, glee in his voice similar to an announcer on a weeknight game show.

"You three! Yes, you three! Get to~" He drew out the final word as he pressed a keypad to his and Fix-it's small office room.

"Do it for us!! Congratulations!"

The three mechlings didn't even groan, for it would be a waste of energy. They simply gazed at Whirl with hollow optics, and proceeded to listen to the helicopter's instructions.

Though as he filed away some pads, Bluestreak thought back to those diamond bright optics of the Equinoid known as Requiem. He secretly hope he could start training with her sooner than later. Maybe then, he'd get Prowl to reconnect with his lost love for these creatures...and maybe he'd loosen up for once.

~~~~~~~~~

True to her word, Flamewar brought Fireglide out for a walk. In downtown Iacon, of course.

She was coated in light red paint with gold accents, and her optics were tinted with feint blue film to sheild their true colors. Fireglide merely dipped her paws and tail into deep blue paint, as only a few markings were needed to camouflage the creature. No one paid much mind to details in anima.

Flamewar, now Novablast, had her canine friend on a laser lead as they strolled down Iacon's shopping district and into the civil square.

The civil square held Iacon's government buildings, as well as the city's Enforcer base and natural disaster squadron. The Enforcer HQ was one of the biggest facilities, and Flamewar was surprised it was still intact and not being shared with the Autobot army.

Now that she thought about it, this area of Iacon still looked overall unaffected by the war. At least, if anything was damaged, the bots here were able to restore it to its previous state. They were given the time to rebuild.

Flamewar found this to be quaint, and she rolled her optics to herself. Iaconians were such a traditional bunch. It was cute.

"*ARF*!" Fireglide barked, pulling at her lead as a petro-rat scurried around a corner.

The femme simply tugged at the anthound's harness through the leash as she began to recollect her run-in with the small mech. Obviously he was skilled in fighting, though it wasn't a usual style. It was more...evasive, almost passive. He didn't use force, but rather his wits and reflexes. And tool that subdued large frames...

Flamewar felt her joints groan at the memory of the the stun-gun freezing her systems. 'A true equalizer, that guy is.' She mentally grumbled.

Evasive fighting skills, hidden tools, and he was sneaking around the alleyways...

"Officer?" She guessed.

"Yes? What is it, ma'am?" A younger looking mech turned his helm towards Flamewar. He was passing by the femme and stopped when she spoke to herself. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Wha--" Flamewar blinked, her gaze landing on the mech. He had a blue, red and black frame with a yellow chevron. Tiffany blue optics reflected a serious yet friendly glow.

He pulled back a bit, seeing that he startled her. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you jump. I heard you address me."

Flamewar huffed, but didn't let her annoyance show. Maybe she could get some info out of this brat. "Ah, you'd be right...Offcier...?" She trailed off.

"Smokescreen. Corporal Smokescreen of Praxus."

"*ARF!*" Fireglide reared onto her back feet and pawed excitedly as the officer's chassis, sniffing all over him.

"Torque, bad hound!" Flamewar scolded the anima, tugging her off. "I'm so sorry, Sir. She's still learning."

"Aw, no worries. I love anthounds." Officer Smokescreen knelt to the ground, petting Fireglide's back as she sniffed his holster for treats. "Hehe, lively one, aren't you?" He praised her, patting her side heartily. "I've missed seeing bots walk their pets around here..." He admitted softly, soon getting back up after giving Fireglide a few more strokes.

"Thank you for letting me spoil her for a moment." He continued. "Back to doing my job. What can I do for you?"

"You see, I'm looking for a mech. I wish to thank him for...saving me from some rouges a few moons back. But I don't know his name. So.." She thought on her feet. "I'm going out on a limb and looking around Iacon's federal areas to find him. It's...my rule to thank others who've help me faceplate to faceplate..." Flamewar finished, hoping her lie was at least half-convincing.

Smokescreen nodded every now and then as she explained, his doorwings bobbing up and down slightly. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We appreciate your sentiments, ma'am. It's not every day someone gose out of their way to thank us. Could you perhaps describe this mech? I may know him or someone who may know of the description."

Flamewar didn't like that purposal. She calculated her options. Said mech could've been hiding his true form, or Smokescreen and his ilk were aware of their run in and were keeping lookout for any suspicious beings.

Wait, why was she getting nervous all of a sudden? She was here for kicks and a good laugh, not some undercover slag! Her spark had been spinning uncontrollably as she remembered her would-be victim's visor-covered faceplate.

"The thing is...I couldn't get a good look at him. All I know is that his optics were shielded." She offered. "That, and his tone was very proper." She shrugged. "Oh well..."

Smokescreen hummed. "Hmm. I can think of a few, but there's so many mechs with visors these days. But I'll keep my optic out for any...what's your designation?"

"Novablast of Crystal City. Just moved here." Flamewar wove her tapestry of a backstory. "I suppose it wasn't in Primus' plan for my search to be easy. But I appreciate your willingness to help."

Flireglide let out a 'boof' and tugged at her harness, growing fidgety.

"Of course, Miss Novablast. I wish you luck in your search. I will keep my word on trying to help you find him." Smokescreen bade the red and gold femme goodbye.

"Not all was lost, was it, my pet?" Flamewar sneered as she turned a corner down an alley.

Fireglide's large maw was good for hiding items the size of a mech's palm, despite it being long and pointed. That was the deception there, for she had a jaw with a deep set gullet that could stretch slightly. One would have to look closely to know that she was carrying something.

The canine bot managed to use her sandpaper tongue to scoop out Smokescreen's key card. Flamewar wasn't sure if it'd lead to her target, but if anything, she could gather information to sell off to Starscream for some pure undiluted Energon.

"Sometimes, I amaze myself." She smirked, only to receive a snarl from Fireglide. "Oh, I could never forget about your hard work, pet." She crooned as she stroked the anima's pointed ears, watching them flick back up.

Flamewar waved the key card in the air between two digits, sliding it down in between her cleavage where no one with decency would suspect it. "Again...either way, I win."

Chapter Text

Made by Kawaii-Piika on DeviantArt

Thank you to both.

Chapter Text

~~~~~

"Cheif, Jazz has found something of interest on Lockdown' hardware." A mech approach Prowl from behind on the balcony overlooking the main office area of the Enforcers.

"Elaborate." Prowl doorwings flared up and down, turning to face the secretary.

"He told me to give this datapad to you. It includes a map of hidden pathways connecting both Autobot and Decepticon territories."

"Finally, an official visual..." Prowl sighed, his wings sinking in releif. "The higher-ups won't let us deploy any high-risk operations without a layout."

Just then, Smokescreen came onto the balcony.

"Cheif." The young bot greeted his leader, earning a nod from him.

"Officer." Prowl responded. "I take it that street patrol was uneventful?"

"Overall, yes." Smokescreen admitted. "I must ask you a question after you're done with your discussion, though."

"Go refuel and come back to me with it."

The officer agreed and left as soon as he came. One must be curt and quick in this job.

The secretary mech continued speaking. "Lieutenant Jazz has also asked if it was possible to send Rung out to the same general area. With the map, this time."

"We will need to debreif with him. But I'm sure he'll agree to it. And no surprises will happen this time around..." Prowl thought back to that buxom femme. And yet, he couldn't help but wonder what her story was...

"Shall I notify him as soon as possible?" The secretary inquired.

"....Yes. But I will be the one to debreif him." Prowl ordered. If his memory banks served him, the lanky mech's previous occupation could help with this operation. The Enforcer Cheif wasn't a nosy mech, but he had to ask some questions about his underling's work history either way.

'I hate having to dig up information on peers when it'll only ruffle feathers...' Prowl mentally groaned, and left to balcony to return to his own office.

~~~~~

Bluestreak, Fireflight and Air Raid were unable to feel their digits. Their servos ached from all the data pads they filed, lifted and flipped through. Their optics were fitzing from exhaustion.

"I hate this. I hate my job." Air Raid groaned, laying his helm on a desk beside turning it slightly to glare up at a quiet Bluestreak. "And I hate you."

But the youngling merely stared off into space, rubbing his chevron absentmindedly.

"Hey, slagstain. Your audials need tuning?" Air Raid snarled, throwing a stylus at him. The usually loud mechling was fed up with his friend pulling him into punishments.

"Whu--?" Bluestreak flinched when said stylus struck the side of his helm, snapping him back to reality. "What?"

Air Raid fumed, reaching over and jabbinh a digit into his shoulder as he spoke with a venomous tone. "You keep getting us in trouble and I'm sick of it! Your brother being cheif dosen't cut us any slack."

Bluestreak sighed, his thoughts still fixated on Requiem. He'd usually fire back at Air Raid, but his spark wasn't in it. He wanted to help around the stable.

"Yeah yeah." Blue waved away the snarling of his friend. "It's true. Hey, what did you think of those equinoids?" His optics brightened. Air Raid took no notice.

"They're just more anima, dude. Not like we get to ride them."

"You don't know that for sure." Blue stood up from his desk, finished with his work. "It'd be so cool if we're assigned to the stable more than the kennel."

"I literally could care less. It's a bunch of bullslag and I'm beyond exhausted." The red and white mechling wasn't having it. Bluestreak didn't care, and turned his attention to Fireflight.

"What did you think of them, Flight?"

The other mechling was more open to his friend's newfound fascination. "Well, they look nice, I suppose. Something ethereal about them. Didn't Prowl have one?"

"Yeah, but someone took her. Her name was Anthem."

Fireflight frowned. That must've been hard...

"I hope Fix-It let's us get better acquainted with them soon." He offered, trying to cheer up the conversation. He wasn't really registering his friend's dismay, too caught up in his newfound desire to get closer to the Equinoids.

As if summoned, the minibot himself came zooming into the office space, carrying a stack of datapads his his clawed servos. "Hm? Someone said my tame---name?" His speech glitch wasn't as prominent while on the job, but none of the Enforcers could hear it anymore.

"Yeah, about approaching the Equinoids." Bluestreak watched the minibot wheel around after setting the stack at the base of Whirl's desk.

"Within this moon phase, at least. I'm not sure if I can get anymore pacific---specific." He told the three mechlings. "If my memory banks serve, Cheif had a rather beautiful looking one centuries ago, didn't he?"

Bluestreak nodded. Fix-It grinned knowingly.

"Guess you both got the bitten by the bug then." He watched as the recruit rolled his helm side to side, gesturing unsureness.

"If you guys finish up this last data stack, I'll see what I can shoe--you--do!" He stammered, scoffing at himself. "Really wish Ratchet had the resources to fix this fragging switch--glitch!"

"Eh, we can barely hear it now." Fireflight assured his senior officer with a dismissive wave. "Blue, you're so dead set on meeting the anima, you do it."

Air Raid couldn't agree more. He felt that Bluestreak was lacking.

"Frag you guys..." The mechling grumbled as he picked up the tracks, reluctantly going to work on them.

"Nah, I'm only into femmes." Air Raid shook his helm.

"Same here. Minerva would be pissed." Fireflight dodged a flying holo-pad.

Chapter Text

~~~~~

Prowl was described as a stickler, a hard aft, and no-nonsense. But he wasn't called nosy. At least not by the average mech.

He had his moments, one being in a few minutes. The Cheif Enforcer set down his holopad, finished scribbling down notes and calculations of probabilities of outcomes and pressed a button.

"Moonracer, send Rung in." His tone was dry yet softer. He wasn't as hard on his secretary, who was a tender sparked femme.

"Yes, Sir." Moonracer responded in her gentle voice. She wasn't built for combat or confrontations, but she was damn good at her desk job. No one would argue that.

Prowl vented in, filling his systems with cooled oxygen before slowly ex-venting. What a heavy sigh he made. If he had one aspect of his job he didn't like, it was this. He preferred not to ask personal questions passed someone's spark day, rank and alt-mode.

A single knock came from the steel door.

"Enter."

The door split into two halves, one sinking and the other rising up. Rung walked in.

"Needed to see me, Sir?" He asked.

Prowl stood behind his desk, nodding curtly. "Correct. It's about the next stake out, as well as some...other matters."

Rung tried to ignore the weight forming in his abdominal area. He sat down slowly, waiting for Prowl to continue. "Alright."

"Jazz is hopefully going to finish up the deciphering today. But if he is unable to, are you capable of working with a three-quarters finished map of the underground routing system?"

Rung thought for a moment. "I can't promise anything, but I've worked with less."

"Yes...about your previous job--"

"Must we bring it up, Sir?" Rung asked, his tone rather defensive.

"Unfortunately, yes." Prowl responded, his usually steady gaze hinted discomfort. "I know you and your brother were responsible for those acts, but we'll need the knowledge you picked up from it."

"....I can try, but memories of that time in my life are fuzzy. At best." Rung felt his spark freeze with shame.

"You've been clean for a long time, Rung. Your memory banks are the sharpest in the IED." Prowl assured the agent. "I trust your ability to decipher."

"What did you have in mind then?" The orange mech moved on from the subject of his past.

"Periodic deep undercover missions." Prowl explained. "Start off in small stints of three to four planetary weeks, working our way up to six to eight decavorns."

Prowl continued. "Location-wise, we'll start off in the Iacon red light district. Cons like to go there, posing as neutrals, to entertain themselves. Maybe our mystery mech will make an appearance there."

"And I can try that new tagging mechanism Wheeljack and Jetfire have been working on." Rung offered. Jetfire was part of the crime scene unit in IED, while Wheeljack was a contracted inventor for the city. The latter was a loose cannon, while the former could reel him in when needed. Both had brilliant minds.

Prowl agreed. "In order to--"

"Yo, Cheif! Got the map completed." Jazz barged into the office. Prowl merely glared at him. Any other mech would have been stripped of their title and kicked out of IED, but the two went back. They even shared some family lines. Distant cousins is the best way to describe their history.

"Did you not see that my door was closed?" Prowl huffed. Jazz rolled his helm, indicating an optic-roll.

"It's always shut, mech. Anyway, here's the map. Hey, Rung."

"Jazz." The orange mech greeted his coworker with a hollow voice. Jazz took note of this, but brushed it off for now. He had to get that little guy to Maccadam's one of these days...

Leaving as quickly as he came, Jazz saluted Prowl as he walked off, doorwings perked up.

"In order to get a hold of our suspect, you have to tag him with the speciality chip Jetfire and Wheeljack made. Like you mentioned." Prowl gathered his thoughts. "Are you able to start another stake out in the next 7 cycles?"

Rung sighed, glad that the subject had been changed. "Yes. But Prowl," He looked at the cheif in the optics.

"You do understand that I'll have to use some questionable means."

Prowl leaned back in his chair. "Rung. If you deem in necessary, then do it in a clean manner." Even during a lull, there were descisions that have to be made.

Both mechs understood that reality.

The meeting was adjourned.
~~~~~~~

Rung went to Barricade to get a fake ID for the upcoming mission, leaving Prowl be. The Cheif Enforcer left his door open.

But Smokescreen still knocked his servo on the frame, respecting his supervisor to a fault.

"Enter." Prowl answered, glancing up to see the blue and red mech.

"Sir, did any of our members rescue a femme named Novablast in the past few moons?"

"Novablast....Novablast..." Prowl checked his internal computer records. No matter how small the report was, he had it in his databases. His internal computer was a miraculous mechanism that few were blessed with.

"Mmm. No, only a Novastar and a Supernova. Why?"

"Odd. I had a femme named Novablast claim that one of our own saved her..." Smokescreen thought out loud, his hands on his hips.

"Maybe she meant to search the Autobot Army. That's more of their type of work." Prowl offered, his doorwings flapping slowly. "Do you have any other information on her?"

"Well...she said she moved from Crystal City. She had an anthound and...what a click." The officer padded his side compartment. "My key card. It's gone."

Prowl's optics brightened, not liking that sentence. "Where did you last take it out?"

"Just to get my gun in my locker---what the frag?" Smokescreen muttered to himself, checking his other subspaces.

"Retrace your pedesteps. If you need to, go to Barricade for a new one." Prowl told the officer. "If this Novablast femme comes back, send her to the Autobot Base. She'll probably find her rescuer there."

"Alright, Cheif." Smokescreen sighed, not looking forward to doing a scavenger hunt.

~~~~~~

Flamewar and Slipstream could be described as friends in a way, but neither saw eye to eye on much. Except beauty tips and scamming neutrals.

"I had this bulk of a mech today. Guy could barely hold himself together when I dropped my chassis armor." Slipstream laughed as she told the tale of an inexperienced Decepticon recruit coming undone just from a visual of a naked femme. "Didn't even have to do anything to get the 400 credits! I stole some oil off of him when he was still in a daze."

Flowspade threw her helm back, hollering. "Girl, ou ALWAYS get the short fuses!" She exclaimed, smacking the surface of the plush berth the little group relaxed on. There were a total of three femmes shooting the breeze. Well, two of them. Moonheart simply listened in, her expression uninterested.

"You'll be able to sniff 'em out soon, Flow. Trust me, they stick out like a nick on the hood." Slipstream assured the slightly younger call girl. "Hey, where's Flame? That turbo-fox can give you a few pointers."

"Oh yeah," Flowspade realized. "Yeah, she managed to get the Winglord's attention."

"His name is Star--" Moonheart's plain-sounding voice was cut off by a servo blade being thrown passed her faceplate and landing on a wall--which had a few marks to show that this was a common occurrence.

"Please don't mention his name, dear. Just 'Winglord' will suffice." Slipstream spoke in a cooing way, a forced smile straining her lipplates.

"Yes, Madam." Moonheart bowed her helm, using the title given to senior concubines.

Flowspade whistled to herself. "Well, anyway! I was wondering where Miss Flamewar is too."

"Look no further, glitches!" A familar voice singsonged. The buxom femme made a grand entrance, gesturing to herself gracefully. "Knockout City's finest has arrived~!"

"Yeah yeah whatever, glitch." Slipstream waved her off. "Did you manage to get anything to drink?"

"Mmm~some Energon I snagged while on the way here."

"How? That's way too quick!" Flowspade called bluff on this.

Flamewar traced her index digit over her lipplates. "My intake is quite talented. In many ways."

Moonheart blushed while Slipstream and Flowspade giggled to themselves. "You're absolutely vile, Flamewar." One of them purred.

"That's one way to put it." Flamewar's wings raised up innocently. She took a spot on the berth and took the cubes out of her subspace, handing one to each femme.

"Where were you today anyway? I didn't see you at the examination." Moonheart asked the rare question as she sipped on her cube.

"Mmm. Nothing much. Went over to Iacon to find some mechs." Flamewar shrugged.

"It's better than going back to 'him'." Slipstream hissed. "I think you just do that to piss me off."

"Oh, Stream. You know 'he' has the most Energon. It's not like I want to be around him." The black and orange femme explained for the umpteenth time. "He's clean. And not as rough as other seekers."

Slipstream rested her helm on a pillow. "You really should try to aim for a mech in Iacon though. I'd rather have you be with an Autobot than him. And that's saying alot." She insisted. Flowspade jumped in.

"Hey, I saw this cute minibot that's a double agent for the Cons. His name's Swindle. Know him?"

Flamewar chuffed. "Know him--Honey, I watched him get followed by a twig of a mech a few cycles back. Guy's all talk and no shock. He's not sly at all."

Flowspade hummed, kicking her up pedes. "He was pretty good when I slept with him though."

"You did not--a minibot already?" Slipstream gasped. The dark pink femme shrugged. "He was willing to pay. And didn't strike me. I call it a good lay."

"Daring. Minibot stamina is notorious." Slipstream mused. "I'm impressed."

Flamewar took a swig of her energon, savoring the slightly better mix. It was from a seeker guard, Starscream's old squad member.

"I have no interest in getting with anyone in particular anyway. I like going to where the Energon is."

"Literally Iacon, you dumb glitch." Slipstream cackled.

"Literally, you go then and let me do my own thing." Flamewar told her off.

The femmes bade eachother farewell for the night, and Flamewar and Flowspade drove back to their homes together. Both of them lived close to one another.

Transforming, the black and orange femme watched Flowspade type in her code to get into her apartment.

The dark pink bot glanced back at Flamewar, her optics darting to down the other's cleavage. "What's that card?"

"Hm?"

"The card. It's sticking out from your boob crack."

Flamewar pulled it out, pretending to inspect it. "Mmm. Something that'll entertain me for awhile." She said.

Flowspade smirked. "Its an IED key card. Can't fool me. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you after I get my new plaything." Flamewar smiled, promising her cohort as she tucked it back into its hiding place. "Don't wanna spook him off."

"Oooo, a him. Interesting." Flowspade purred. "I look forward to hearing about it."

"It'll be awhile, but you'll know. And ONLY you." Flamewar threatened with a sweet smile.

"Yes. Only me." The younger femme promised.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Prowl and Bluestreak clocked out, driving away from the Iacon Enforcement Department HQ towards their shared home on the outskirts of the city.

A not so little known fact is that Prowl took up the role as parent to Bluestreak. Their mother and father were killed in the beginning of the Cybertronian Civil War. Prowl had only just become an adult mech when he had to raise a youngling Bluestreak, hence why he was protective yet critical of his sibling.

"Hey Prowl." The aforementioned mechling spoke as he drove alongside the Cheif.

"Yes?"

"What was Requiem like?"

Prowl felt his spark drop at the name. "She was my anima partner. You know that."

"I know, but what was she like?"

"She was like any other Equinoid. We're almost home." He tried to change the subject.

"Brother..." Bluestreak used Prowl's old nickname--back when Blue was much younger. He used it in times when he was distressed or truly wanted something of Prowl, usually to just open up emotionally.

Prowl knew this, the tone reaching past his internal walls and touching his spark, reinforcing his bond to the younger bot.

"Alright, Blue. I'll tell you about her when we get closer to home."

Bluestreak drove behind his brother and tapped his bumper in appreciation.

~~~~

Pulling into the lone townhome they shared--Prowl chose this housing units due to lack of neighbors--the two mechs walked up the stairs towards their abode.

"I adopted Requiem from an Equinoid auction back on the Praxian Plains. South of here. You were afraid of large anima, so I left you with Jazz and his family. Back then, I was having severe issues transforming into my altmode while on the job, so I needed an alternative form of transportation while on patrol in the city." Prowl explained as he unlocked the electric sliding door.

"She wasn't mistreated, but she was definitely unsure of her new surroundings. I was no different. I took her to the IED stables to get her acquainted with the other mounts. She had no trouble, and they seemed to have chosen her to be the next leader of their small herd."

"How did I overcome my fear of large anima?" Bluestreak asked.

"I dragged you kicking and screaming. I lifted you up to Requiem's snout. One ex-vent from her and you started giggling."

"Yup. That's the most 'Prowl' thing you could do."

"It worked, did it not?"

"Heh, yeah."

The officer bot continued, his doorwings relaxed. "I took you for a few rides on my days off. She seemed to enjoy it when I would lead her around with you in the saddle." His voice grew listless as he remembered a little Blue smiling and mumbling 'giddyup' as the gentle beast followed Prowl, a tender look in both master's and pet's optics.

The Cheif's faint trace of a smile turned to a frown then. "But we only got to do that six or seven times before she was stolen. It was while on patrol in the slums. We were hot on the trail of a petty criminal. I dismounted to investigate a tight-looking alleyway. But my doors got caught. I heard Requiem screech. But I couldn't see what was the matter due to how dark it became. I was stuck as well." Prowl paused, remembering the poor creature crying out. In pain or fear, he couldn't tell.

"Took me ten minutes to get free. My commlink would've come in handy, but the walls and the fixtures above me cut off the coverage. All that was left of Requiem was this." Prowl suddenly took out a scarper of sorts from his chassis subspace, shining it to Bluestreak.

"I cleaned her hooves with this. You tried to as well. But you weren't strong enough to lift her leg."

Bluestreak gave his brother a flat look, annoyed by his narration of pointing out flaws. Even though it wasn't meant to hurt any feelings.

"You think she might still be alive?" The mechling asked as he inspected the tool in his brother's servo.

Prowl thought for a moment. "Equinoids have longer lifespans in captivity, but I'm reluctant to say 'yes'. It gives me hope in finding her, which is not feasible."

Blue's doorwings drooped at this. "Well...you never know, right?"

Prowl didn't speak for awhile. "...Despite my databases being 65% accurate, I'm inclined to agree with your sentiment." But he had to be realistic.

"Hey, we agree on one thing! Thanks, Requiem!" Bluestreak playfully punched the other bot in the arm.

The Cheif Enforcer huffed, silently thinking the same thing: thank you, Requiem.