Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.

Notes: This is written for the tformers100 community on LJ's 'War' Table. It's pre-slash for now but will eventually move onto a rather dysfunctional affair between our favorite emotionally messed up mechs.

He really hated Springer.

Everything about the mech got under his plating. His smug smile, cavalier flaunting of all of Prowl's carefully planned strategies and protocols. He hate Springer's poisonous influence on the troops and the fact that the stupid sons of glitches wanted to emulate him! He was inspiring rash kids like Hot Rod into traveling down the same disastrous path Springer walked.

That was the most galling.

Prowl could handle him flagrantly ignoring his orders and strategies but encouraging other mechs to act just as unprofessional as Springer himself was just pushing things too far.

Take this evening for example.

Prowl was sitting in the commissary trying to enjoy a quiet cube of energon when Springer and his unruly bunch of Wreckers came stumbling in. The strategist could tell they'd been indulging themselves by the unsteadiness of their gait and the sheer volume of their voices as they shouted over one another.

Springer and Hot Rod appeared to be in a contest to see who could be the loudest.

"No, I'm telling you it was the best assignment I ever had! Lots of friendly company, the energon was flowing and not a thing to do but kick back and shuttle a few VIPs around."

"Yeah right, pull the other one while you're at it." Hot Rod scoffed loudly.

Sitting at his table, Prowl felt every tensor cable in his shoulders go tense. A frown tugged at his lip components though he made a valiant effort to ignore the loud mechs.

"You sayin' you don't believe me? Oh, yea of so little faith, Roddy!"

"I'm saying you're prone to shall we say…embellishing a story?"

"I'll show you embellishing." Springer laughingly threatened while swinging his arm around Hot Rod's shoulder. "How's about I embellish you?"

The Wrecker rubbed his plating against the brightly covered mech and left behind garishly colored patches of green against Hot Rod's primary coloring.

"Hey, watch the paint!"

"I think it improves the look, don't you?" Springer asked an exasperated looking Blaster.

"Oh no, you aren't getting me in the middle of that. Besides, I happen to likered." Blaster teased with a grin.

Shaking his head in obvious exasperation, Springer scuffed up Hot Rod's helm as well. "I swear, I'm surrounded by mechs with no taste."

Hot Rod just shoved at Springer and did his damndest to get away from the taller mech before he ended up with half of Springer's paint job on him. "Let go, Springer. Ow, watch it."

"Springer, let him go." In contrast to the Wrecker's raucous noise, Prowl's quietly uttered command should have gone unnoticed and unheard. Instead, in the wake of that order, a tense sort of silence fell over the mechs as Springer turned his attention to Prowl.

As usual, a cold sort of gleam entered the triplechanger's optics when he looked at Prowl. Even his rough treatment of Hot Rod stilled until he was standing there hanging off the young mech at a ridiculous angle.

"This isn't any of your business, Prowl." Springer said frostily as the unfriendly test of wills between the two mechs continued.

Poor Hot Rod looked like he wanted to be anywhere but between the two mechs.

"I realize you don't understand the meaning of fun but this is what mechs who actually have friends do on their off time."

Prowl just granted Springer a patently maddeningly bland look guaranteed to get under the Wrecker's plating. "All I see is an officer accosting on a subordinate in front of me."

"You gonna quote regs at me now? Besides, you don't hear Roddy crying out for help so I'd hardly call this 'accosting' him. Right, Roddy?"

"Right…." Visibly uncomfortable, the young mech repeated Springer's words back to him. "We err….we're just playing around, Prowl. No harm, no foul." This time, he was able to shove off Springer's arm relatively easy. The gathered group of mechs tried not to shuffle as the tenseness of the air gathered.

Desperate to change the subject, Hot Rod immediately seized upon the first thing that popped into his processor.

"So uh-Blaster! You were telling me about that new mix tape you were putting together?"

Thankfully, Blaster seemed to catch his drift and started in on a rambling explanation of his latest foray into the music world.

Not so willing to let things go and apparently itching for a fight, Springer stalked over to Prowl's table.

"You have no right to interfere with our down time." The triblechanger growled.

"It's my duty to interfere if the situation warrants it."

"That's a load of slag and we both know it. Just because you don't like me doesn't give you the right to pick on Roddy like that."

There was the most subtle of twitches in Prowl's doors that betrayed his temper.

"From where I'm sitting the only one picking on Hot Rod was you."

Anger darkened Springer's faceplates. "You don't have the faintest clue what's going on. You sit there with your datapads and your unemotional strategies and completely forget about all those pesky emotional attachments regular mechs have."

Prowl knew the best way to combat Springer's anger was to reply in kind with cool detachment and he had the pleasure of watching the triplechanger's faceplates twist with impotent rage when he didn't flare up back at him.

"Are you finished?" That galling question was murmured coolly. "I would have thought even you better than weak and ineffectual insults. If you're done wasting my time I have work to do."

For once, it actually looked like an argument was going to be won by him! Petty perhaps but Prowl didn't have Springer's skill for verbal jousting and their arguments usually left him feeling as though he'd been vocally walked all over by the Wrecker.

"Yeah well, once again? You don't know slag about anything, Prowl. Stick to your datapads Or better yet, shove them up your aft." With one last sneer, the triplechanger turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Hey, Springer! Wait up, I thought we were going to party!" Hot Rod called after the Wrecker.

"No way can I party with a mood-killer like that fragger around." Springer barked over his shoulder. "I need some air."

Feeling the Wreckers and Springer's cohorts less than friendly looks centering on him, Prowl was left with the disconcerting feeling that this latest verbal joust had not been much of a victory at all.

His suspicion was only further proved as the various mechs shuffled out of the commissary after the triplechanger.

Well, at least it was quiet.

And with that severe thought, the tactician turned his attention back to where it belonged in the datspad held tightly in his hands.