Transformers © Hasbro.

AN: Hey guys, did you miss me? When I said I'd come back to FF at some point, this wasn't the story I originally had planned, but it upped and bit my ass.

This is the result of me whining at Curse about how there's not enough truly badass!Prowl fics out there. So I wrote my own. I'll update this monster once a week (every Friday) and I'm already on chapter 17 now. By now, Curse won't let me wimp out and not finish it.

This is not your mother's Prowl and Jazz.

Ready? Forward!

First Impressions

It takes a special kind of mech to be a special ops tactician.

Gunner knows this. As head of Ultra Magnus' special ops teams, he knows all too well how a tactical officer can make or break a spec ops team. He's seen tacticians break under the pressure – and consequently break the teams as well.

And now he's watching it happen all over again.

In his defense, Firestar was never cut out for this. His tactics work best when he has time to think about what's going on and assess all possible outcomes. He's panicking, close to breaking, and this time he's going to kill them all. Out of the five-mech team that went in, only two are still alive – Gunner's second, Jazz, and the new spy Mirage.

"I need five minutes!" Firestar says, typing furiously on his data pad. Gunner has to give the mech credit – he's trying. It's just not enough. "Please, Jazz, hold your position for five more minutes!"

"We don' got five minutes, mech!" And there's Jazz, not quite panicking but clearly in no position to attempt calm for Firestar's sake. "We got thirty seconds, tops. Get us outta here!"

"I'm trying!"

The doors slide open and another mech walks in. He's one of the new tactical, Gunner knows – a black and white Praxian who rarely speaks and for the most part keeps to himself. He's not part of Magnus' team. He's just on a holdover until his new unit is ready for him. Gunner dismisses him quickly. He's not part of the equation. His specialty is going to be large-scale combat. He's of no use to Gunner.

Still, the Praxian walks right up to Firestar's computer and takes in the intel. He can clearly see the problem – there's only one way out and in, and there's at least 20 Decepticons standing on the other side of that exit. The door will only hold for so long. They're going to die. Firestar's hands are shaking, coolant tears sliding down his cheeks as he realizes he's going to lose them all.

The Praxian reaches past him and pushes the comm button. "Jazz, this is Tactical Officer Prowl. Do you copy?"

"What are you doing?" Gunner demands. Prowl ignores him in favor of the display screen.

"Loud 'n clear, Prowl."

"Good. I need you to do exactly as I say, and I will get you out of this alive."

Jazz chuckles tiredly. "Don' need yer empty promises, mech. Just need a plan."

Prowl's optics darken considerably. They're almost black now. "Good. Here is your plan."

What he suggests is dangerous and insane. Gunner watches the screen intently, wondering if Jazz will go for it. To his shock, the response is short and terse. "Got it."

As Prowl predicted, they lose contact with the team. Comms are down, and Firestar has to leave the room. He's shaking too hard, completely useless to the team as he is. This might be his last ops mission, Gunner muses, assuming Jazz and Mirage make it back. Prowl stands there a moment longer, staring blankly at the screen. Gunner watches him.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks finally.

"A message of execution." Prowl replies tersely. "If this didn't work, in two minutes, we will know. The Decepticons will use Jazz's transmission to tell us we lost our team. If we don't hear in two minutes, then they lived, and the plan worked."

Gunner nods, surprised by the confidence in Prowl's voice. "And if they made it?"

Prowl spares him a glance. "Then you will need to send a retrieval team." He returns his attention to the screen with an intensity that Gunner has only ever seen once before. It's the same intensity that made him pay more attention to Jazz than the others and make him his second on the team. A slow smile spreads across his face.

"I hear you're destined for large-scale combat."

"That is where Optimus Prime wants me."

"I think you might be better suited to special ops."

Prowl's doorwings twitch. One fist clenches ever so briefly, and Gunner has to laugh at that. "You know it, too. That's why you're in here. You're trying to learn from Firestar."

That gets his first honest reaction out of the mech. He snorts. "Hardly. Firestar is a good mech, but he's no spec ops mech. I came here because I heard there was trouble. I wanted to see if I could help."

At that moment, precisely three minutes later, the comms flare to life once again. "This is Jazz. We're out. We made it out."

A small smile flickers across Prowl's face. "Thank Primus." he whispers. Louder, he adds, "We're sending help. Hang in there, Jazz."

"Roger tha'. Thanks, mech."

/-/

Prowl leaves before Jazz gets back.

Gunner considers the options as he meets his mechs in the med bay. Surprisingly, they're not very injured considering the exit they had to take. He stands there quietly as Mirage gives the report – Jazz is completely distracted, not even complaining as the medic does his work.

At the end, Gunner nods. "All right. Thank you, Mirage. I want both of you to get some rest. Firestar needs to be cleared by psych – "

"No."

Jazz's voice cuts across Gunner's words. He blinks. "You don't think Firestar will be cleared?"

"Ah'm sayin' Ah don' want that mech anywhere near mah team." Jazz retorts.

"We need tactical, Jazz." Mirage says quietly. "Everyone knows that. Spec ops need a real-time tactical advantage."

"Ah know that, 'Raj. But not Firestar." Jazz crosses his arms over his chassis and glares up at Gunner. "Ah want Prowl."

Gunner grins. This he was totally anticipating. "Prowl isn't one of ours."

"Well make him one."

"You want me to go up to Optimus Prime and ask him for his tactical officer back?"

"Yep."

Gunner shakes his head. "He won't go for it."

Jazz grins. There is nothing kind about his smile. "He will if he wants us runnin' ops. I ain' goin' back out there without Prowl in mah ear. He got us out of there alive."

Gunner nods. "I'll consider that. In the meantime, get some rest. I mean it, both of you. You earned it." With that he walks out of the med bay.

This could be entertaining.

/-/

"You want what?"

Yeah, this is going about as well as Gunner imagined. Optimus looks less than thrilled to hear from him, even through the vid screen. "You heard me. There's a mech named Prowl – "

"I know who Prowl is. He is assigned to my unit as a combat tactical officer."

"With all due respect, Prime, that's a waste of his talents." Gunner says calmly. "He's much better suited to ops." The battle mask hides Prime's scowl, but Gunner knows he's scowling anyway. Perks of being ops. "He walked into that situation, assessed it, and had a workable plan in literally about 20 seconds. That's impressive. No one I've ever met can do that."

Optimus sighs. "Gunner, I hear you. But Prowl is my mech, and I won't assign him to ops so young. Ops wears on mechs in a way regular battles don't."

Before Gunner can argue the point, the door to the meeting room opens and Jazz waltzes in. He nods to Gunner before turning his focus to Optimus. "Sorry, Gunner – diplomacy ain' gettin' us anywhere." he says. "Look, Prime – Ah get that Prowl is yer mech, but mah team needs him. He saved our afts. We ain' goin' back out without him. Are we clear?"

There's a very long silence as Optimus just stares at Jazz and Gunner tries to hide his laughter. Slowly, very slowly, Optimus nods.

"A trial run. You have him for two months, then he's back with my team. Clear?"

Jazz flashes him a wicked grin. "Crystal."

Gunner finally snorts in laughter. In two months, Prowl will be Jazz's mech. He can already tell.