THE HIT JOB

I write a lot of Prowl Fanfictions. If anybody who reads this and enjoys my work, and wishes to read other pieces, I implore you not to read 'Wrong Side Over' or 'Eliza'. They were past works that I failed miserably at.

Note: I do not write slash. If it seems like slash, it most definitely is not.

The Ark was deathly silent. It was late at night, and one mech roamed the hallways. There were others awake, but they were either on monitor duty, or in different areas of the ship.

His door wings twitched as his processor kept replaying the message he had received earlier that day. His past had come back to haunt him.

It had been transmitted to Teletraan 1, which Blaster had tried opening, but the code was to strong and required a password. It had been addressed to him.

And had come from the most unlikely source.

Reaching the exit and entrance of the Ark, Prowl hesitated before stepping out into the cloudy night. A storm was coming in. Very poetic for the situation he was about to be going into.

Transforming, he made his way to the outside of the ships sensor range, so that Red Alert would not pick up the spark signature of the mech he would be seeing. The entire trip at his speed took about two minutes, but in that duration, his processor filled with memories and thoughts.

It was amazing how they had not found out by now. Though he had kept this… hobby of his a secret. No background checks had brought it up, and it didn't seem suspicious that every place he had gone to on Cybertron, mechs and femmes had gone missing.

No. They never connected the dots.

But that was okay. It was behind him now. He was a changed Bot. Until it had just been shoved back to the fore front of his mind.

It had been for an old hit. He had never gotten paid, but then the war started, and his attention had been focused on planning battles and rising to the top. And he had seen that mech rise as well.

His Decepticon counterpart had become the SIC of the rival army in a relatively short amount of time. Prowl had become the Autobot Second a while after. They had fought and tried to kill each other…

But both of them remembered what had not been given.

And now, he was receiving the payment that had been skipped out on. Honestly, if you hire somebody to kill someone else, you have to be ready to pay them.

But Starscream hadn't. And now, he was realizing that mistake.

The Praxian's door wing sensors picked him up easily. Transforming into his Alt mode, Prowl came into the view of the Decepticon SIC. Red and cobalt optics locked for a moment, as the tactician came to stand next to him, gazing at the landscape.

"Hello Starscream." He greeted tersely. Both knew that the other could easily kill them in a sparkbeat.

"Prowl." The air commander replied, equally as tense. "It has been a long time since we have met under circumstances that weren't demanding us to offline each other."

"Indeed."

They remained in silence for a few breems. Both knew that the awkwardness could all be ended if Starscream simply paid up. But honestly? The seeker was just glad to get away from being humiliated by Megatron. And if standing with an Autobot who he owed for killing a Cybertronian many millennia ago was what it took, so be it.

But eventually, Prowl decided that this was somehow bordering on treason. "Do you have it?"

Starscream scowled, but un-sub-spaced the payment. "Exactly as you wanted Autobot." He handed over the object. "Do you ever regret joining that side? We both know that the war could've been over sooner had you sided with the Decepticons. We have military superiority. With your tactical ability, Optimus Prime would have been crushed, and we would still be on our world."

The Praxian remained silent as he took the payment, holding it gently, surveying its smooth exterior. "I… do consider it at times. But I also know that if I had joined Megatron, our entire planet wouldn't exist." The seeker grunted in muted acceptance of that fact, before his mood darkened more.

Standing straighter, Starscream sneered. "You were never an Autobot Prowl. We both know that. Why do you think Shockwave managed to make his way to such a good position. You could've been running the Decepticon ranks by now."

The tactician was a moment in responding. "Yes. But I would have the pressure of making sure you did not try to overthrow me." It most definitely not said as a joke, but as a hard fact. The seeker snarled.

"You already have that problem with every mech under your command."

Prowl shook his head, arms crossed over his chassis, the package now in his subspace. "The mechs under my command are simply wishing to break me. None want our positions."

It was true. Being Second in Command was a lonely and painful job, which sent many Cybertronians to their death, or into insanity. Starscream was an example. As was Prowl.

Both had broken a long time ago. The Praxian simply hid his instability. Starscream hadn't been able to.

Their minds were warped to the extent that they could never be righted. No matter how many promises they made, or oaths they took, the position of SIC made sure that they would always be the backstabber. The bad guy. On both sides.

Sometimes, they just wished that their lives hadn't been destroyed. Nobody alive could ever understand the torture that came with their responsibilities. But the ones before them could. The ones who took their lives due to the pressure.

This option had crossed both of the SIC's processors multiple times. To simply end the burden. To be released to the Matrix. To be free.

But they understood that should they go, the war would escalate into catastrophe. Very few understood the influence they held, the ability to control everyone around them. Optimus Prime and Megatron may have started this war, but Prowl and Starscream had been running it.

The two Cybertronians knew that should this fighting end, they would be to far gone to resume any form of normal lives. They would be executed, regardless of what good they had done. They would be killed simply because they were Second in Command's. It was the law of the universe.

If one must live.

One must fall.

In the end, it would be the decision to end the faction leader's life, or their SIC. It was always the latter.

No matter what.

Prowl turned away from the seeker, and walked away. Starscreams optics lingered on the view before him, but drew away as he prepared to transform. The voice of the Autobot stopped him.

"Starscream." His back was to the air commander. "You remember the oaths we took when becoming Second in Command?"

"Yes." The jet didn't even bother to say anything incriminating afterwards, wanting to know where this was going. He recited the oath. "I swear to stand beside my commander, through the darkest situations. I swear to be their adviser, and support their decisions. And should it come to such a time, if one must live-"

"One must fall." Prowl finished. Nobody understood the weight of this more than them. They had condemned themselves to death. So that their leaders may live.

Nodding to the seeker, the Praxian transformed and drove away. Starscream changed into his alt mode and flew into the dark, cloudy night, ruing the orn he was sparked.

Prowl was doing the same.

. . .

Jazz stepped into his friend's office. He saw the tactician standing in front of his desk, polishing an object.

"Hey Prowler!" The saboteur greeted cheerfully, not noticing the irritated twitch of the Praxian's door wings at the nickname.

Nevertheless, Prowl replied, not looking up from the object. "Good orn Jazz. Are you here to drop in a report?" Three months late.

The spy shook his helm. "Nah. Ah wondered if ya wanted ta get some energon. Ya haven't refueled in a while – or socialized." Oh how wrong you were. "So Ah thought maybe ya'd want ta head ta tha rec room."

The rec room. Evil. But he'd humor Jazz this once. "That would be… acceptable." He could not bring himself to say pleasant.

"Cool." The mech smiled. "What are ya doin' over there?"

Prowl straightened, and turned, holding the glowing crystal in his servo. The saboteur stared.

"Wow… where'd ya get that?"

"It is one of the last crystals from the Praxian crystal gardens." That was the only answer Jazz was getting. The TIC nodded, not bothering to press that point. But then his acute sensors noted something. There was writing on the crystal. In Cybertronian.

"What does that say?" He asked. Prowl simply remained impassive.

"It is nothing." He placed the crystal on his desk and walked past the spy. "Come Jazz. You wanted me to go and refuel, which is what I shall comply with." Prowl exited the room, as his friend hesitated behind, staring at the crystal. Eventually, curiosity took over.

He picked up the smooth shard and read the Cybertronian. It meant absolutely nothing to him.

Placing the crystal back down, he shrugged. Must have just been a poetic line. He walked quickly out of the room to catch up with his friend.

The crystal glowed on the desk. To any normal observer, the writing meant nothing. Even more so for a human. But to Prowl and Starscream, and the ones before them, it was a reminder and a curse.

For as all the mechs and femmes went on with their lives, the SIC's remained in limbo, never able to continue with life. Not after the things they had done.

Some tried to return to a normal life. But their happiness was forced, and acted as a façade for everyone around them. You never moved on from this position.

The oath was more than just a promise. It was a failsafe. It was the only way in and the only way out for the Second in Command.

Inscribed on that crystal, was the failsafe. The one way out.

If one must live. One must fall.

PLEASE REVIEW

Not one of my longest works, but it wasn't meant to be long.