Chapter Text
Prowl wanted them.
He’d called them, and when none had answered because they’d all been deep in recovery stasis, he’d left a message. Short, to the point, crisp with a tone they all recognized immediately:
Send confirmation upon receipt. Meet at the following coordinates.
Mixmaster swore that somewhere down in stasis dreams, he’d been aware of the moment Prowl had reached out, had felt his spark spin and dance in celebration of its prodigal companion. Long Haul tried to argue that he’d never heard the word dream before they’d been stuck under cover with the humans for all those months, and Bonecrusher had stepped in to defend him. As his teammates squabbled together in the cramped hospital room and Scavenger pretended to still be offline, Hook sent their reply. A single ping, message acknowledged. He wanted badly to ask how Prowl was, tell him the team was excited and ready for whatever he needed from them, but the right words weren’t coming. Besides, Prowl would appreciate the simplicity.
They left that night. Had they any stock in what the doctors or human (ew) repair crews had to say, they would have been there several more days, but Prowl’s assessment was the one that mattered. They could get out of their beds, sneak out of the hospital, and transform into a conga line of construction vehicles driving down the road: they were well enough for whatever he asked of them.
Hook led the way, maneuvering them through the hospital parking garage, into alleys, and around the many construction sites flooding the area around where Cybertronians had made landfall. The team had been knocked offline during their battle with Victorion (that was a rematch to look forward to), so all they knew was that a final, final battle had taken place and someone had dragged them to Earth, where they’d been labeled as ‘victims to Starscream’s self-important delusions’ and tossed in with the rest of the bots who’d ended up mangled, crushed, and torn by the death throes of their planet. Keeping their distance, they saw Cybertronians and humans working alongside one another, building plans for a future in which the two species were able to live side by side. Scavenger even thought it was ‘sweet.’
They never spared it more than a glance, though; Prowl was waiting.
The coordinates took them far from the development, across fields that forced Hook, Bonecrusher, and Long Haul to switch to root mode so their tires didn’t get sucked into the mud, and through forests that snagged their kibble and occasionally required they disentangle each other. Night passed, their path lit by a moon that was little more than a hunk of dead rock, and by day they still wore on, anticipation fueling each step like rough high grade. They reached the mouth of the cave just as the sun reached its crescendo, pushing deep into the darkness below.
They jumped. Mid-air, they strained their optics, searching for their sixth.
There. There he was! Standing just out of the spotlight of the roof, Prowl was almost invisible in the darkness: he’d painted over his white paint with a dark shade of gray, and his biolights had all be covered to make him more believable as an Earth vehicle. His single blue optic was unmistakable, though, both for its color and the way it stared at them, harsh but unreadable, as each member of the team landed in front of him. Dust rose from around their feet and the cave shivered with the impact, and he did not blink, though his gaze shifted to each in turn.
Hook felt his spark trip and wondered if this might be the feeling Mixmaster had been trying to describe.
It was really their Prowl. They were together again.
Hook ran forward, feeling more than hearing the team as they converged around him. Maybe Prowl tried to say something, and maybe they should have responded, but no words came to Hook that would have meant as much as actions. Besides, it would have been too hard to hear as five, then six, t-cogs activated.
There wasn’t even time to savor it. One moment Hook was rolling forward, sliding through his vehicle mode and into Devastator’s component, and then he attempted to connect to Long Haul and everything fell apart.
Pain burned a terrible arc through Hook’s body and he wrenched away from the connection, collapsing onto the floor as his addled processor tried to understand what it had just undergone. The rest of the team crashed down around him, a ragged pile of robots, vehicles, and limbs with Prowl in the center, just starting to sit up. He cradled his helm in one hand, but the glare of his optic pierced through his fingers, targeting Hook and welding him to the spot. Even without the direct connection, Hook’s spark felt the disapproval.
“W-what happened?” Scavenger asked, pushing himself up from where he’d been pinned under Bonecrusher’s blade. The more senior team member transformed and placed a hand on his shoulder, though he too looked to Hook and Prowl for answers.
Hook had none. In their time as a combiner, he had picked up a few tricks they could use to diagnose and bypass glitches, little things here and there that could hold the mesh together until someone more qualified could solve the root of the problem. He’d never been prepared for anything like this, the sting of rejection still flowing through his body and making it hard to perform the usual systems checks he would have had going by now.
“You’re broken,” Prowl said, turning to Bonecrusher. Hook was both grateful and regretful to lose his attention. “Long Haul,” he turned to the one stuck halfway between robot and dump truck, “I received almost no feedback from you. Either your combination circuits have been turned in on themselves, or they’re missing entirely. I suspect the rest of you have similar injuries.”
“Well, what’s it going to take to get us fixed?” Long Haul demanded as he righted himeslf, defensive for having had his own poor repair called out.
“Many things we don’t have,” Prowl said, “least of all expertise. The one mech who fully understands how your bodies work is currently in custody.”
Shockwave was still alive? News to Hook, not that he really cared. He was dealing with more present concerns.
“We can’t combine?” He said it like a question, but it didn’t feel like one.
“No,” Prowl said, “which is perfectly acceptable. I have you how I want you.”
The team perked up, even Mixmaster sitting up from where he’d been lounging on the ground.
“What’s that mean?” Bonecrusher asked.
“The mission I’ve called you here for requires finesse, a clear mind, and ability to stay focused,” Prowl said. “Multiple field runs have now proven that, while combined, I am not capable of such to a degree that is acceptable for any logical hope of success. So, it is to our benefit that we cannot combine.”
“You… don’t want to form Devastator anymore?” Scavenger asked. Bonecrusher’s hand on his shoulder stilled.
“That’s not what he said,” Long Haul snapped, though his optics darted back to Prowl.
“You’re right, Long Haul,” Prowl said, “though you would understand why it’s a complicated question. I…”
Hook leaned in with the rest of his team. He’d so looked forward to being in Prowl’s head again, watching the calculations run down, branches and paths unimaginable to them flowing open at Prowl’s touch. If they couldn’t get that, hearing his thoughts would be the next best thing.
He grimaced, though, and the change in his tone when he started again indicated that whatever he’d meant to say next was going to stay locked away.
“I need you for this mission,” he said instead. “You are the only mechs I can trust with it, and I know you will not take that responsibility lightly. It’s because we have combined that I can give you this confidence.”
“Course, Prowl,” Mixmaster said.
“You can trust us with anything,” Scavenger added.
Prowl’s doorwings twitched up. Hook still wished he knew what that meant, and the familiarity of the feeling was what finally reminded him that Prowl was back. Regardless of Devastator, of whatever mission they were about to embark on, that thought stood out in his mind, and he crawled forward so he could touch Prowl’s shoulder, dip his fingers into that fresh gray paint.
“Anything,” he echoed. “We’re here for you.” He would promise nothing he didn’t know he could deliver.
The others followed, enclosing their loose circle around Prowl, who startled at each touch, his gaze whipping around. He stood, dislodging every curious hand, and in the glare of the roof looked like a messiah among his followers. Hook, directly in front of him, squinted up, able to make out only the silhouette of a pointed chevron and doorwings, fanned wide.
“I know,” Prowl said. He stepped over Mixmaster and out of their circle, unfolding from the light and molding himself back into the darkness, where he was once more reduced to a single glowing optic.
“The same way I know that when I tell you this information is top secret,” he went on, “you will know never to reveal it to anyone.”
“We won’t say a thing,” Hook said, standing. The others joined in, echoing Hook’s sentiments as the group rose up, but Prowl’s attention stayed on him. Hook felt the look like it was a blunt object, plunging into his spark, and he accepted the force, embraced it, returning it without any idea of its purposes. He did not look away, not because he was intent on winning whatever game they’d entered into, but because he didn’t know what would happen if he did.
“I know,” Prowl repeated. Hook’s optics, adjusting again to the gloom, were just able to make out the motion he made with one hand.
Follow.
They did.
Prowl led them away from the light, further into the darkness of the cavern. Tucked into one wall was what looked like a terminal amassed with sticky organic matter that threaded together, creating windows that acted as a screen when Prowl powered it on. The team stopped a few steps shy, peering up into uncanny views, except Mixmaster, who strode forward to poke at the vestigial threads hanging off the side.
“This is a time machine.”
Prowl dropped the statement like a bag of bolts. Mixmaster stopped what he was doing to look up at their head. Scavenger jolted.
“You built a time machine?” he asked, awe tilting his helm up and guiding him another step closer, angling to watch Prowl work.
“No. An old… Someone else did,” Prowl said.
“Mesothulas?” Mixmaster guessed.
Hook cringed. Bonecrusher had come across the name accidentally the last time they had combined, but they’d all had to work together to assemble the story, each member offering a scrap of information until something resembling a narrative emerged. Hook had assumed their silent agreement not to mention it to Prowl was enough.
“Not relevant,” Prowl said, proving that it was possible to know a mech’s deepest secrets and still not know how to parse a particular tone of voice. More transparent was the way he reached out and pushed Mixmaster’s curious hands away from the terminal. “I have secured it and assumed full control over the technology. Before I was able to intervene, however, another individual commandeered it with the intention to interrupt our current timeline. Had he been successful, the results would have been catastrophic.”
“So, someone already stopped him?” Hook asked.
“More likely, he just failed,” Prowl said. “Temporal modification is complicated, and without proper training it’s likely he just got himself stuck in a loop somewhere. Still, so long as he remains at large in the timestream, he poses a risk toward spaciotemporal stability. Our mission is to follow him through time and apprehend him, so he can be brought back to Earth to face charges.”
“Against what? Time law?” Scavenger asked.
“Misuse of potentially deadly technology,” Prowl said. “I helped write the bill.”
Hook still wasn’t sure about tone, but that definitely sounded like something approaching pride.
“So, no killing?” Bonecrusher asked.
“No.”
“Damn.”
“No killing, Bonecrusher,” Prowl said. His postured sharpened and he turned to lock optics on the mech, who shrunk back as if to hide behind Long Haul. “If you cannot follow this or any other directive I give you, tell me now, so I can dismiss you and assemble a new task force.”
“It just depends,” Hook said, trying to and finding himself unfortunately successful at drawing Prowl’s attention away. “Is it Spike Witwicky? Or Starscream?” Yeah, yeah, they’d heard the reports, but only someone as gullible as Scoop (who had started inconsolable, turned incoherent when Bonecrusher threatened to punch him back to Cybertron) would believe that fragger would have any interest in staying dead.
“No,” Prowl said, “though that your loyalty is conditional brings down our chance of success by upwards of 20%.”
“No, no, it’s just those two,” Hook insisted, looking to the others.
“You know how it is around that lousy sack of bolts,” Long Haul said, defensive though his tone tried to be accusatory.
“But you say don’t kill, we won’t kill,” Mixmaster added. He took hold of Bonecrusher’s elbow and guided him back in view.
“Yeah,” Bonecrusher said, looking up at Prowl though he so clearly didn’t want to. “Trust us.”
Prowl’s optic stuck to him, then scanned over each member of the team in turn. When Hook felt the gaze fall on him, he did his best to return it without looking like he was trying to challenge Prowl. He wanted to rise to whatever was being asked of him, and no higher.
“I have safeguards in place to hold you to that,” Prowl said, breaking optic contact at last to address the group at large. “I trust that you will not force me to use them.”
Hook nodded with the rest of the team. He knew a threat when he heard it, even a vague one, and he didn’t mind it when it came from Prowl. It was how he got things done, produced results, and with that being one of the many reasons they had come to respect him as their newfound leader, how could they fault him for his methods? A means to an end, that was all Prowl’s precautions were, and Hook was much more invested in the end.
“Once we have captured the target, he will be returned to the present day,” Prowl continued. “He is to be kept in adequate repair, relative to whatever state we find him in. There is a chance he will try to escape, in which case you are permitted to use an appropriate level of non-lethal force.”
“When do we find out who it is, anyway?” Long Haul asked. His voice was almost neutral, but there was a tightness to it that belied his impatience.
“When the information becomes mission-relevant,” Prowl said.
“Hrmph.”
So, it was back to same old, secrets keeping, potentially backstabbing, always plotting Prowl. Still opaque, still keeping his allies in the dark about his unfurling plans and invisible strategies. Hook’s brakes relaxed, letting his wheels rock on their axels. It really was the mech they’d all pulled into their sparks, not the ‘reformed’ glitch everyone in the hospital had been gossiping about.
“Sounds good boss,” he said, shoving at Long Haul with his elbow. He caught a glare for it, but the annoyed growl of the dump truck’s engine quieted to a hum, which was good enough. “When do we start?”
“Now.” Prowl’s fingers flew across the terminal keyboard. “The machine keeps a log of all the points it accesses. Unfortunately, it looks like our suspect had help, as several were logged simultaneously; I assume the intention was to prevent us from finding the correct coordinates. To conduct our search, we’ll have to travel to each one manually.”
“Sounds simple,” Mixmaster said.
“It does,” Prowl agreed, which of course meant, It’s not. “Construction of the machine was halted prematurely. It lacks a mechanism to ancho it to the present, which means there is nothing present within the system to guide an individual back once they’ve passed through.”
“What?” Scavenger yelped, stepping back like Prowl had burst into flame. “You mean we’ll be stuck out there?”
“Of course not,” Prowl said. “Why do you think I called on you?”
“You need Devastator?” Bonecrusher guessed.
“We’re a team?” Mixmaster added.
“We already discussed that, Bonecrusher,” Prowl said. He ignored Mixmaster altogether. “Gestalt coding. For better or worse, our sparks are drawn to each other, and the simulations I’ve run suggest that the pull can be felt through the timestream, as well. One mech will stay here, to act as the anchor. When it’s time to come back, the rest of the team should be able to get back relying on that.”
“Not it!”
Attention turned to Long Haul, who was beaming in pride of his quick reflexes. Prowl stopped typing just long enough to turn a glare on him.
“Not—”
“You’ll be taking turns,” Prowl said, interrupting Scavenger. “We have to come back each time to input the new coordinates. We’ll switch off then.”
Had Scrapper been the one in charge, first, they wouldn’t have been attempting anything like this. Second, Long Haul’s brazen declaration would have made him the first to sit out. Instead, Prowl resumed typing, more focused on the intricacies of the time machine than chastising his team for minor infractions. Hook still leveled a disapproving glance at Long Haul, who shrugged it off.
“Preparations are complete,” Prowl announced, turning his back on the terminal to once more address the team. “Bonecrusher will be the anchor for the first run. The rest of you, follow me.”
He led them deeper into the cave, into a pocket the light had almost no hope of reaching. Here, what looked like an empty doorframe stretched far above their heads, visible only by the energy that had started to crackle around its edges as the time machine came online. Pinkish, orangey light spiraled inward, coming to a point at the center of the frame. It looked so familiar to Hook that had it not been for Prowl’s explanation, he would have assumed it was a spacebridge.
“I will lead the way. You will each follow, two seconds behind the person in front of you,” Prowl instructed. “First Hook, then Scavenger, Long Haul, and Mixmaster. The moment you step through this gate, you are to do nothing without my explicit order. If I don’t tell you to walk, you stay still. If your life is in danger, you wait until my go ahead to save yourself. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Hook said, in unison with the rest of the team.
Prowl looked each one over. He nodded.
“Turn off your comms now,” he said. “We don’t need to risk leaving a signal behind someone might trace. Are there any questions?”
Hook had several, but since none were strictly relevant to the mission, he figured it would be best to hold on for now.
“Very well,” Prowl said. “Hook, follow my steps exactly. Once you reach the end, you are to wait for my signal before you exit the timestream.” A last sweep of the team, and it struck Hook that he didn’t know what Prowl was looking for.
He must have found it, whatever it was, because he turned his back on them and stepped through. They saw his silhouette for just a moment before it was swallowed whole by the light.
Hook stared at the space that had once been Prowl.
“…two-on-thousand,” he heard Bonecrusher murmur.
Well, he could take a hint when it was given. Hook chanced a glance back at the others before he stepped in, not that he really needed to. All he saw were the faces of his team, and they were familiar to him as his own spark. It was up ahead that was unknown, fascinating, slightly dangerous, so Hook strode forward into the light, following wherever it was Prowl led.