As soon as they receive the message that their comrades have recovered the Nightbird after successfully fending off the Decepticons, Prowl calmly makes his way outside, absentmindedly scratching the seams where the temporary bumper plating meets the rest of the armor.

He really can't wait to get rid of this paper-thin tin-like contraption. But, thanks to a certain human-made and Decepticon-programmed drone, that will have to wait. After all, the Ark doesn't have power and there are still other mechs that Ratchet needs to check before something as menial as replacing his broken armor can be done.

It means Prowl is more than a little cranky.

And the pending conversation with Prime and Jazz doesn't exactly cheer him up.

Fortunately, the saboteur sent him a message soon after the one telling of their victory that managed to ease his processor a bit.

Just a bit.

Because a misunderstanding of the likes of their leader accusing their Third of being a spark-extinguishing tool doesn't come out of nowhere.

Slag it all, I thought Jazz was dealing with things better than this!

Well, nothing to be done now. At least, not until they return the Nightbird to the humans and deal with that issue.

Luckily, that's something far easier to take care of. Or, at least, Prowl is better prepared to tackle that.

Thanks to the data Blaster managed to put together before the sabotaging, he has all the proof he needs to present to Prime and end the robot soldier programs.

Now, they just need the world energy chip back, and he can get to it as soon as Ratchet makes sure his leader isn't going to fall into stasis without medical attention.

As if his very thought had summoned them, Prowl finally spots the approaching cloud of dust signaling their comrades' return.

Five kliks later, the Repair Bay is finally emptying, the machinery and lights working once more with the stolen chip back in its place, while Blaster and Red Alert get to increasing the security measures to avoid a repeat.

After a thorough exam, Optimus is allowed to get back to his pedes while Ratchet turns his attention to the deactivated robot lying on another berth.

"Prime, there's something I'd like you to see," Prowl calls, getting his leader's attention before it's turned back to the drone.

"Can it wait a bit? I'd like to make sure Nightbird isn't too badly damaged. The sooner we return her to Doctor Fujiyama, the sooner we can put all this behind us."

It is a nice and logical idea, but the Tactician would really like to have dealt with the scientists before they get their robot back.

"I'm sure Ratchet will let you know if anything—"

"What the Pit?!" the Medic exclaims, the drone's torso plate in his servos and his optics a pale blue as he examines its systems.

Almost unconsciously, the three officers in the room take a step closer to see just what has startled Ratchet.

Jazz lets out a low whistle.

"I'm pretty sure it didn't have that energy converter thingy back at the conference."

Ratchet gives him a glare that says louder than words just how much he would like to re-acquaint one of his wrenches with the saboteur's helm if his servos were free.

"Not that! It was a given the Decepticons would modify the humans' primitive design. I meant the fact that all its systems are charred! What did you do?!"

"Ouch, Ratch. That hurt."

"I'm afraid that was Starscream's doing," Optimus interrupts before the Medic can do more than put the piece of armor down and grab one of his trusty wrenches. "He flew down, shot Nightbird, and flew away as soon as he caught Megatron's attention. We thought his null-ray had just put her into stasis, but…"

"Well, one way or another, I'd rather not be him when Megs catches him. The mech was really pissed."

"I assume that was another attempt at overthrowing Megatron?" Prowl asks, crossing his arms under his bumper and tilting his helm when he gets nods from the other two officers.

"It looked like it. He wasn't at the battlefield before, even though the others that had attacked the university were," Optimus answers, a servo tapping thoughtfully against his facemask. "Maybe he had been sent away?"

"If he'd been sent to take command of the Victory with both Megatron and Soundwave away, I doubt he would have come back just to shoot at a drone," Jazz muses out loud, the Prime giving him a pointed look at that last word, but the saboteur expertly ignores him as he rests his servos on his pelvic plating with a shake of his helm. "Just give it up, Ops. There's no knowing what goes on in that Seeker's processor. Or Megatron's, for that matter."

"Well, one way or another, he left a slagging mess behind," Ratchet grumbles, carefully poking around in the robot's torso to assess the damage. "I can take out the upgrades, see if the processor, or whatever this thing uses, has anything than hasn't been fried to check for Decepticon reprogramming to erase… but I'm not sure I can leave it as it was before all this. I can try to put it back together, but, according to the blueprints, some parts really were one of a kind," Ratchet explains, looking up to see Optimus' conflicted gaze and the officers' carefully neutral faceplates, and straightens. "What do you want me to do?"

Prowl and Jazz turn to the Prime, as expectant as the Medic, though keeping their unease and tension as hidden as they can.

After one look at his officers, Optimus lets his shoulders slump.

"Save what you can, old friend. I'm sure Doctor Fujiyama will be able to work with that to replace what was lost."

The other three mechs relax visibly at that, and, when next Prowl tries to drag their leader to the bridge, the Prime acquiesces without another word, Jazz bouncing after them humming softly to himself.

Blaster gives the Tactician a chip without looking up from where he's tampering half into the control panel, Red Alert by his side. So, with a curious and slightly amused Prime behind him, Prowl quickly finds an unoccupied meeting room for them to talk uninterrupted.

As the chip slowly downloads its data into the computer, the Praxian tenses slightly at the thought of what is to come.

Yes, Optimus didn't order Ratchet to fully repair Nightbird, which would have implied adding Cybertronian technology and who knows how many modifications to have them work, and thus helping the humans better their would-be weapon. But who knows how will he react to this information and, most important, what it means and what must be done?

Of course, Prowl wouldn't be where he is if he didn't have at least an idea. But he's still just a mech, and Optimus is a Prime.

He's served under two of them, he knows what that means.

Especially when it comes to this one, with his conflicting views and experiences and that too warm and hopeful spark.

So, when the information finally loads onto the screen, it is their leader Prowl observes instead of the data he already knows.

After all, he was the one to ask Blaster to compile the information on the robot soldier programs.

Optimus' facemask helps hide the brunt of his emotions, but his optics and field always betray him. And, while to a human the subtle changes in the shade of his blue optics would be hard to understand or even notice, when combined with the electromagnetic field seeping from all Cybertronian, they are like giant neon signs telling the world just what he's feeling for any other mech.

So, it's easy to see when he realizes just what he's looking at, and the growing dread and disbelief as he looks through the various programs of the different countries. And the raw betrayal when he finds even their hosts taking part of it.

Yet, there's still hope when he turns to his Prowl.

"It-It's their right, right? To defend themselves?"

"It is."

And hope blazes—before being smothered, because, after all, Prowl's been Prime's right servo mech since the instant he took his post at the head of the Autobots, nine million years ago.

"There's a 'but', isn't it?"

"You tell me."

Jazz gives him an amused yet confused look at that, far more used to the quick and to the point delivery of data, sometimes even ruthlessly. But the Praxian knows it's better to let Optimus realize things for himself when they can afford the time.

And, since they recovered the drone and Ratchet is busy fixing it, thus making them unable to return it yet, they do have the time.

Plus, it's always easier to convince the Prime to accept things he doesn't like when he's the one to arrive at the needed conclusion.

Prowl's not above nudging him towards the right direction, however.

Which is why he doesn't try to be discreet when he scratches a seam where temporary plating meets armor, trying to sooth the sensors reaching for the missing ones.

Optimus almost visibly shrinks away at that, obviously connecting the project with the Decepticon attack that caused the damage.

Good.

"They didn't tell us. We're their allies, and they didn't tell us. And so, the Decepticons managed to steal a weapon designed to damage Cybertronians and turned it against us, and, consequently, against humanity. And they don't have any means to defend against such an attack, so they could have gotten hurt by their own creation. If Megatron had managed to hold onto it a bit longer, modify it further… Her, I mean, not it, her!" the Prime whispers brokenly, though the last part is added hurriedly, stammering in embarrassment, which gets him a couple of amused smiles from his officers. "Since, you know, the humans bothered to give it—her! They bothered to give her a gender, so it wouldn't be polite to call her an it."

Jazz snickers and Prowl doesn't bother hiding his chuckling as he shakes his head slowly, thoroughly amused at this almost newspark-like behavior their oh-so-powerful leader tends to get into from time to time while around his officers.

"No worries, Ops, we won't be telling anyone about your slip," the saboteur reassures with a wink and a large grin, and the Prime huffs in annoyance, mostly to himself, before focusing back on the present.

"Right. Well, slip aside, that was it, right? They didn't trust us, and thus endangered us all. They're not ready for this kind of weaponry. They have neither the technology nor the ability to keep it safe from Decepticon tampering. If they continue the projects, they risk Soundwave or his Cassettes slipping a virus through their firewalls and installing it in the next batch, giving Megatron more tools to use against us."

"Precisely. That is why they have to stop."

And, as infuriating as it was expected, Prime shakes his helm in a negative.

"Optimus—"

"We can't just ask them to give up their defenses. They have the right to protect themselves—"

"They're endangering all of us with—"

"So, we should ask them to change."

Halfway through his next argument, Prowl stops.

A reboot of his optics is all his battle computer needs to run that idea through.

"Switch the robot soldier project for another? But they're too primitive for even the drones, what else could they do?" he asks, curious about what his leader is thinking.

"I was thinking about some better communication suits with the Ark? Or some kind of emergency number open to everybody? So that we can answer to Decepticon attacks faster."

The Second and Third exchange a look and, after a moment, Jazz nods.

"Why not? That'll let them know we're still willing to help, and that they better trust us with the Decepti-creeps instead of trying to face Megsy on their own. And that's when we return the Nightbird with the reports of the disaster at the university and just how close it was to hand the Cons the world energy chip, and let them see for themselves just how much of a bad idea the whole thing is."

"… I'll word that better and get a draft by then, but I agree with the change," Prowl answers, receiving a pout from the saboteur and a relieved smile from their leader. "So, now that this has been taken care of, there's something else we need to deal with."

And while Optimus looks curious and a bit confused, Jazz cringes visibly.

"Hey, mech, I told you—"

"You told me nothing," the Praxian hisses, immediately silencing the saboteur. "So, do it now."

"Jazz…?"

"Ugh, cool your systems, you two. It's nothing bad, it's just—"

"If you say it's just some 'restlessness'…" the Tactician threatens, and Jazz tenses, turning deadly serious.

"You really are a pain in the aft. Some orns, I have to wonder why I didn't just deactivate you and spare me the trouble."

Optimus startles, looking between his Second and Third with alarm and something akin to fear.

"What is going on?" he finally asks, dactyls twitching as he tries not to reach for a weapon.

"Do you know what I did before the war, Ops?" Jazz asks with his usual cheerfulness, but his faceplate is blank and his frame and field betray nothing.

"… You served the Senate as some kind of guard," the Prime answers, though his voice tilts strangely, almost as if not sure whether he should make that a question or not.

"Kind of, but not really. The more correct term would be a spark-extinguisher," Jazz answers, and, while Prowl doesn't look away from that deep blue visor, the color so dark it barely gives off any light, he can still clearly see the Prime tense and take an involuntary step back, away from them. "Sometimes, that is. I was a kidnapper, torturer, and thief most times, but they had no qualms telling me when they wanted some mech to disappear. And neither did I when it came to that," he explains with an expression that is only a smile in name, because the only feeling that is in it is an Energon-lust so thick and concentrated that it seems to brighten the light-less visor. "That's why I'm so good a saboteur, dear Optimus. And that's why I get… murderous, you may say, when I'm inactive for too long. I wasn't created to be idle," he adds, the threatening grin vanishing as the visor lights up once more with a frown, and both Prowl and Jazz turn to the fear-frozen Prime. "I'm not ashamed of what I did, of what I am, and I'm never going to apologize for any of it. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let anyone think I'm a tool to be used, another gun to aim at an enemy and deactivate them with but a word."

The silence that fills the room then is viscous, sticking to them with such strength that it almost manages to physically immobilize them. But, after a klik to process everything, Optimus shakes it off.

Literally.

The tingling of plating as red and blue armor fluffs out and lies back down on struts and cabling and lines echoes against the orange walls for an instant as the Prime searches for the right words.

When he looks up at them again, he doesn't flinch nor fear anymore.

"So that's why you've been so twitchy lately."

This time, Jazz's smile is actually so, though a bit crooked.

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, Earth and the humans are awesome, but I don't think I'll ever get used to these slow times."

"Is there something we can do to help you burn that extra energy off? It isn't like there are that many battles, and there's just so much infiltration anyone can do. Especially with the Victory being…"

The saboteur frowns once more, this time thoughtfully, and taps his chin softly with a fist.

"You know, all I can come up with right now isn't exactly 'kid-friendly', so I'm at a blank. Any ideas, Prowler?"

"Actually, yes," he answers, both mechs turning to him with expectation in blue optics and visor. "A change in your training schedule."

Jazz grimaces.

"Come on, mech, you know that does nothing! I haven't had a challenge since I first decided to take over the Special Operations unit, and that's just because the idiot in charge preferred to work behind a desk. I had to practically train the mechs from nothing! After that, I sincerely think there's nothing training can do for me other than make me twitchier."

And that's when Prowl smiles, and the other two Autobots tense and take a step away.

"Optimus, how much do you want to help?" he asks, seemingly ignoring Jazz's rant.

"As much as I can, of course," the Prime answers, rebooting his optics in confusion, while the saboteur's lower jaw falls open with a flash of pale blue in realization.

"Because I think it's about time Jazz taught you some more advanced techniques."

Silence.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have some work to do and some armor to get replaced. Have a good day."

"Wha—Prowl wait you can't—Prowl!"

The door closes, muting Optimus' pleas and Jazz's cackle, and the Praxian gives himself a mental pat on the back.

No more babysitting drones, no more trying to keep the Head of Special Operations from deactivating someone, and no more worrying himself glitched any time Prime goes up against the likes of Megatron servo to servo.

Now, if only—

::Prowl, you better haul your aft to Repair Bay in two kliks if you want that armor of yours replaced. I'm officially going on a vacation in five.::

A loud smooth purring fills the corridor, but the Tactician doesn't pay attention to the startled and confused looks thrown his way as he lets his engines keep running with a satisfied smile on his faceplate.

::I'll be there in one. Save me a spot on that vacation of yours.::

The brig is as gloomy as ever, but Starscream doesn't pay it any mind, processor lost in calculations and new projects that will most likely never go further than his thoughts.

He's pretty sure his null-ray fried everything inside the drone's chassis, since that's precisely what he aimed for. But at least now he has confirmation that Soundwave doesn't like those things any more than he does, and thus will make sure Megatron doesn't get his servos on another robot again.

His efficiency is precisely why the Cassette Carrier is where he is now, after all.

The Air Commander shifts a bit, moving his weight away from a nasty dent in his shoulder plate that is starting to tingle uncomfortably, and, mostly out of habit, he grumbles about his idiotic leader and his uselessness.

If it just so happens than he means it this orn… well, he has good reasons.

However, Starscream's pretty sure whatever kind of craziness afflicted Megatron this time will be gone for good by the time he's released. The painful yet harmless dents, scratches, and fusion burns all over his frame are more than proof enough. The kind of precision to ensure that much pain and discomfort without damaging something important is, after all, a sign that Megatron is back to using his full processor instead of letting his spark-code do with him as it wishes.

His coding may be the reason he's such a dangerous and powerful opponent, but to make use of all that the mech needs to think. That means Megatron needs to burn off energy or focus on something else, or both.

The next time he hears the troops grumble about Starscream doing nothing more than complain for the sake of complaining, he's going to rip off their helms and shove them up their—

The swish of the door opening along the pede steps entering the brig pull his processor away from that trail of thought, and the Air Commander lets out a groan before he can stop himself.

Looks like he'll need a long flight once he's out to burn off some energy and aggressiveness of his own.

Now, if only Megatron could recognize such things too instead of forcing Starscream to keep an optic on him…

Not his fault he was thrust into the mines first thing after his activation, thus leaving him unable to learn the very basics of his frame type. Really, the Decepticons would be lost without me.

Which is something else he doesn't really want to think about either. So, stretching as much as possible to get rid of the kinks in his linkages and joints, Starscream gets to his pedes to see who has decided to visit him.

Though, judging by the silence and the fact he wasn't called back to the present as soon as the newcomer stopped in front of his cell, he has only one possible candidate.

"So, has our mighty leader finally realized he can't tell the bottom of a pad from the top and sent you to fetch me?"

No answer. Though it isn't as if he was expecting one, anyway.

"As enjoyable as your ceaseless chatter is, I must ask you to go straight to the matter at servo. I am a busy mech, Soundwave, as you well know," he adds, the sarcasm dripping so thickly off his words that he's almost surprised there isn't a puddle forming at his pedes.

The Cassette Carrier gives him an almost unreadable look—almost, because that slight tilt of his helm is evidence of a deadpanned stare in his unique fashion—but he does reveal his purpose here as he takes out a cube of Energon and hands it between the bars.

Starscream stares.

"What? Is today some kind of 'be nice' day, or something?" he asks, frowning so deeply it's almost a glare. "What is the meaning of that?"

"Hook: Orders."

"He could have brought it himself. Or any other Constructicon. So. Why are you here?"

The servo starts moving in a soft sway, the Energon in the cube sloshing softly around, and the Air Commander has to almost literally push back the warnings of his depleting energy gauges.

"Starscream: Refuel. Talk: Meanwhile."

He has to scoff at that, but he steps forward and snatches the cube from Soundwave's servos nevertheless, trying not to gulp it down too quickly.

As soon as he puts it down, however, there's already another being offered to him, this one more purplish in color.

"High Grade? Alright, that's it. Who are you and what have you done with Soundwave?"

"Starscream: Inferior. Soundwave: Superior."

The Air Commander can't help his amused snort nor his smirk at that, especially because of the deadpan, even more emotionless than usual yet tinted with annoyance, it has been spoken with.

"And yet, here the superior Soundwave is, trying to buy a favor from me with High Grade. What, wasn't the whole ordeal with the drone enough?" he asks mockingly, though the last question is far quieter and more hissed than spoken.

"Starscream: Destroyed drone. Humans: Cancelled projects."

The Air Commander reboots his optics in surprise before letting out a bark of laughter and snatching the High Grade from where it was still being handed to him.

"Of course they did! So, I guess that would make us even. What is this for then?" he wonders, sipping calmly and almost purring at the slight bitter aftertaste. "Slag, it's good."

"Brew: Mixmaster's."

"I'll be sure to drop by the Repair Bay more often then. And you haven't answered my—Oh, no, wait a nanoklik!" he shouts, almost dropping the cube as it dawns on him just what Soundwave may be trying to con him into. "I'm not babysitting those Cassettes of yours!"

"Acknowledged. Objective: Different," the Third in Command answers, and the Flier lets out a sigh before taking another sip of the Energon to calm his systems. "Favor: To be requested."

"This is to ensure you'd be able to have me at your beck and call sometime in the future? Alright, I can function with that," Starscream shrugs, this time allowing his engines to let out a soft contented purr as he sits down to enjoy his new treat. "And now that we're talking about favors, make sure I'll get at least two joors free once I'm done being 'punished', will you? I'm planning to have a long well-earned flight after this."

"Acknowledged. Payment: Take Flier Cassettes along," the Air Commander muses that for a couple of nanokliks before giving a simple nod.

No one will be hearing this spoken out loud, but Starscream actually enjoys having the little pests around. Their eagerness to learn any and all aerial tricks he's willing to share with them is more than welcome, and Ratbat's enthusiasm and newspark-like innocence are actually quite refreshing.

As soon as the thought is processed, the Air Commander finds himself snorting with a large smirk once more, turning his helm to look at the obviously—to those who know what to look for—curious Communications Officer still standing at the other side of the energy bars.

"You did get me to babysit your creations."

Soundwave chuckles, the sound an almost subsonic thrum that tickles his wing sensors, but shakes his helm.

"Negative. Skywarp: Already agreed to that."

The Cassette Carrier turns around to leave, and, by the time he's almost at the door, Starscream finally deciphers those words.

"He what?!"

With an almost silent swish, the angry curses and death threats of the very much pissed off Seeker get locked in the brig.

UPDATED 03/07/2019: Corrected grammar.

AN: Jogai: 'Abatement' in Japanese.

And that's it, people! We're done, the story is over! I'm finished! Slag, that took long... Had someone told me it would take that long to finish this, I would have most likely laughed in their face. Never again am I making the same mistake, this I swear.

About this chapter: I completely bypassed the fighting scene because I can't sincerely see anything to change from the original (other than Nightbird being freed by a Decepticon instead of by some kind of energy-sucking gun that popped out of nowhere). As for the humans, as Soundwave said, all robot soldier programs were cancelled. Whether it's because they had learnt their lesson, the Autobots offered something better or simply because they're bidding their time... well, I leave that to each of you to choose whatever you like best :D

So, what can I say now? Thanks to all of you for sticking along for the ride (has it really been just six chapters? It feels like more) and thanks for all the favorites, alerts and reviews. I hope I'll get the chance to read from you again soon!

Now, I'm going to focus on the rest of my started fics before starting any new ones (check profile for extra information), which, hopefully, will be easier now that I have one less to deal with (not that they are a chore, but since I tend to jump from one fic to another without rhyme or reason, it tends to take longer if I have more than one story clamoring for my attention). However, I'm getting a new job about two weeks from now, so, while I'll try to keep writing, it may take longer for me to update.

Take care, people! Read you later!

Giddy: As you can see, they did remember to inform Prowl. I'm not sure if that was for the best, though XD I hope Starscream's musings helped clear the thing with Megatron and Nightbird, but I'm sure the original episode was all about Megatron 'tweaking Starscream's wingtips', as you so expertly put it ;) ... So that was why Screamer wouldn't cooperate. Huh.

That about Soundwave and the favors thing is the most perfect thing ever.

Whenever you decide to, know I'll be there to read and review ^^

What is it with you readers and the 'boy band'? I mean, seriously. I think my subcoscious made me write Be a Mech because I got so many reviews about the boy band that some twisted bunny managed to latch onto it without me knowing... And I'll get to the story about Megatron (Stranger from Yesterday, there's more in my profile) a bit later than anticipated, due to work. But, hey, it's the ciiiiircle of liiiiiife...

Nice to read from you again, hope you like this chapter, and read more from you later! :D