Title: Trump cards
Rating: T
'verse: AU, G1
Characters: Bluestreak, Smokescreen, mentions of Prowl and Jazz
Warnings: None
Summary: Smokescreen explains a few things to Bluestreak about his guardians.
Disclaimer: TF doesn't belong to me.
AN: I have nothing to say for this drabble. It just came out of nowhere and wanted to be written. Plus, Smokey is all broody in my mind now.

Trump cards.

"Bluestreak, you don't get it do you?" Smokescreen leaned over the table, closer to the gray gunner that was too young to be a part of this war.

"Get what?" Blue optic shone brightly, confusion all too clear in them.

"The powerful cards you have at your disposal." His fellow Praxian sighed. "You can do irreparable damage, you know that?"

"Damage?" Bluestreak frowned, "Smokescreen, what are you talking about?"

The older mech just shook his head, the noise from the rec room swallowing them, until he spoke quietly, "One word: Prowl."

"Prowl?" Again confusion and mistrust shone on Bluestreak's face as the frown deepened. "What about him?"

Smokescreen smirked but there was no mirth in his optics, "He's on your side. A powerful trump card Blue, if you use him right."

The gunner didn't answer, instead let his wings and sharp gaze show Smokescreen that he didn't like the conversation they were having. Life in the rec room continued in blissful ignorance.

With another sigh, the older Praxian continued, "Prowl is a strong soldier, with a fierce mind and determination to win. Not to mention, he's the Autobot's Second in Command and Head Tactician. Basically, the 'bot that decides all of our pitiful fate. " Smokescreen leaned even closer, "Also, if the info's right, he's in very good terms with Jazz."

"So what?" Bluestreak actually hissed. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Smokescreen pressed, "Jazz is freakin' Head of Special Operations and Espionage. And Jazz knows everything and everyone. He is one of the most well connected bots this army has. And that makes him very dangerous. Don't be fooled by his smile." He twitched his wings.

"And both of them form the supportive pillars of this army – Optimus' hands. His optics, his audios. They are the key to the Autobots." Smokescreen relaxed in his seat, head tilting and optics blazing, "And they are at your disposal."

Bluestreak's engine revved hard.

"Look, I'm just stating the facts. You have Prowl on your side, you Automatically have Jazz as well. And with the two of them backing you up, you ultimately have Prime and the whole army." Smokescreen stood up from his seat and went to place a hand a tense shoulder. Bluestreak wasn't looking at him and the older mech leaned next to his audio, "Like I said, trump cards. Use them well." And left.

For the first time after the tragedy of Praxus, Bluestreak was glad for the silence.