[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Groundwork [Closed]

[Prowl]

Week One, Day One...

Twelve Hours After Formation...

All warfare is based on deception.

But to achieve the objective that Prowl sought to achieve, it would require more than just hiding his plans from his opponent. No, this would probably be one of the moments that decided the war. He would have to use all the cunning and strategy that he had learned both in war and as a criminal investigator. In fact, this would be the first time in centuries that he would be taking off his metaphorical strategist hat and putting on the role of a criminal investigator again. And if he was being honest, it felt good to do so. To do what he had been designed and built to do. Find out the truth.

But it would not be easy.

While Knock Out was not exactly a tactical mastermind, at least based on Prowl’s experience and the intelligence dossier that they had for the Decepticon Chief Medical Officer, he was still highly intelligent. He had to be in order to stay alive as long as he did with Megatron, and if Prowl’s suspicion about the way Decepticon promotion worked, with other’s who probably wanted the power and prestige that came with his job title.

That was why it would be impossible for Prowl to get Knock Out to crack on his own. No, he needed a team that he could rely on. Or at least in Prowl’s case, a team that he could trust enough not to screw up too much.

He couldn’t use Jazz, there was a chance that Knock Out would recognize him. Besides, he preferred to keep the saboteur for other projects. Skirmisher wasn’t cunning enough, the larger mech was more suited to being a big, intimidating presence when Prowl needed someone big to back him up. Sunstreaker would do. Despite being SRT, she would have received some basic training in interrogation and questioning. But Prowl also chose her because he knew of her vanity, something she and Knock Out seemed to share.

But that was only half the puzzle. Sure he and Sunstreaker could tag team Knock Out in the interrogation room, but Prowl knew that a bot of Knock Out’s attitude would love to talk. Why not give him someone he could talk to while not being questioned. Someone who could be a confidant? His options were rather limited again, but finally he had settled on Carbine. It wouldn’t take too much effort on Prowl’s part to paint the former Garrus prisoner as an enemy to the Autobots.

So now, he was waiting in one of the abandoned storage rooms, deep inside Omega One. He had sent a private transmission to Sunstreaker about thirty minutes ago, telling her to get Carbine and meet him down here in thirty five minutes.

It was time to begin laying the groundwork for Autobot Victory.

[Carbine]

The transition from Carbine's room to the vacated storage area was not an eventful one. A tense silence, an abandonment of any conversation or chatter that could have occurred during their walk... no. He wasn't in the mood to chat anymore, and effectively washed his hands of Sunstreaker and her little prideful goals to be polished to a high sheen. While the topics at the end of their interaction were rather amusing on some levels, he was simply too irritated to dwell or work off it further.

He simply followed with growing tension. Letting the femme lead. Not out of some want to stare, but more a want to not have his back set to her. There were only two people in this outpost that Carbine would trust to walk behind him, and this new individual wasn't one that exceptionally limited list. Whatever the case, as they strode past the threshold to the chosen room, the black and white mech would move to the side, not blocking the doorframe in any way, while angling his spine, and Bolo, towards the wall.

Carbine's peds were planted at hip width, while his arms were pulled back to fold at his lower spine below Bolo's dock, overtop the harness that was attached to the canine. It was an almost formal posture in a way, at attention, waiting for what order was going to be given next. His helm was raised, looking down upon the shorter mech who he borderline towered over, his expression hard to decipher given his less than present facial features. It could be that he was paying attention, awaiting orders and not wanting to look like a slouch that did not take this experience as serious as it potentially could be, or it could be the fact he truly was looking down upon Prowl with a seething form of disdain that boiled in his lines.

This gaze was unwavering, intent, the yellow projections on his faceplate not blinking once or looking aside towards Sunstreaker, or even around the room itself. There was him, and then there was Prowl, Carbine's right hand flexing out behind his back in a clawed like shape a moment, before curling in on itself to a tight fist that pulled his own thumb in painfully. This grip was masked behind his frame and bulky forearms.

"I understa̢nd ͠you nee͞d̨ a mo͏nster."

Words, that were simply that. Nothing to read in them, no tone to his voice. It wasn’t bored droning, it wasn't snarled hate, nor was it joyful to serve the Autobots under Prowl's leadership. No. There simply was... nothing... like reading a sentence on a sheet of paper with no contextual elements to assist. A neutrality that could be translated into as many options as his faceplate could be. The only thing that persisted was his focus on the high-ranking mech.

Sunstreaker meanwhile was mentally cast aside in favor for the much greater threat that stood before him. Carbine didn't keep up with 'current events', or whatever someone wanted to call it, but the name had snaked around in one form or another through the years. He knew a ghosting of what Prowl was, what he could be like and the way he cared not if someone was cast to death for a cause. In a twisted way Carbine could respect that. Someone who saw the war as war, and not a battle of morality trying to stand up against those who didn't care.

He was a mech that could get his hands dirty, and while Carbine may feel this minute thread that connected them alike, there was the reality that he was the one on the chopping block now.

[Sunstreaker]

A permanent smile was etched into Sunstreaker's face. Damn she was feeling good. She caught each and every light on the trek over from Carbine's room, her coat pristine, polished, and fresh. It felt amazing to suddenly become the best looking Autobot on the planet, and hell, probably the best looking Cybertronian on Earth, too. Knock Out and his little purple flames could eat it, for all she cared. And he would, too! She'd be seeing to that personally, very very soon.

Few and far between were the moments where Sunny could tap into an earlier iteration of herself, these days. Self-discipline needed a release valve to be turned every so often, however. Carbine wasn't aware of how fortunate he was that his client had elected to remain silent as she strutted along.

Unfortunately however, the fun was about to end. Not because she was scheduled to perform an interrogation though, but rather due to the person she had to report to about it.

The storage room doors slid open, revealing Sunstreaker and her charge. The Streak™ was noticeably more shiny and smug than the last time Prowl had spoken to her, which seemed almost implausible given how shiny and smug Sunstreaker presented herself on a normal basis. It was both for the bit, and herself.

Carbine landed the first word from his cracked audio matrix, given that Sunny was taking one last moment to bask in her own glory, hands proudly planted at her sides. She waved Carbine off and gestured to the Autobot tactical officer they'd come to meet.

"No no, Prowl is the monster here, see? He made me take good cop, after all."

The edge of her grin crinkled softly, quickly giving Prowl a token salute with two fingers.

"Hi, by the way."

[Prowl]

“Sunstreaker is correct. Given my reputation among the Decepticons, it was only logical that I should assume the role of the ‘bad cop’.” Prowl replied before turning to face the two of them properly. His arms folded across his chest as the golden visor covering his eyes retracted into his helmet and revealed his cobalt blue optics to the other two, though he fixed his most annoyed gaze towards Sunstreaker.

“You’re going to want to dial back the smug, full of yourself attitude Sunstreaker. Your clean up is for a purpose beyond trying to turn the head of every mech and femme within eyesight.”

There was no room in Prowl’s voice for levity or sarcasm, it was straight to business. Too much was at stake for there to be any miscommunication or misunderstanding between everyone involved.

“What I am about to say is to remain between the three of us. Optimus Prime and Red Alert will be briefed on a need to know basis, but the rest of it is to remain strictly between the three of us. This is to minimize the chances of Knock Out catching on to our plan. While he might be sequestered away from the rest of the lifeforms in this base, one slip up could cost us our chance at getting him to reveal what he knows. Because what he knows might very well be what turns the tide of this war.”

Prowl paused at this point, swiveling his gaze towards Carbine.

“Carbine, though Sunstreaker has undoubtedly explained what your role in this plan will be, I want to make sure that you understand what is being required of you. You will be posing as an Autobot deserter who has had enough of being on the ‘losing side’. You’re an opportunist who saw joining up with the Autobots as a way to better your station, but nothing has really benefited you lately so you were looking to change sides but got caught and are currently awaiting trial. You will be placed in a cell near Knock Out’s in order to allow you to communicate with him. Try to avoid giving anything away, but if he presses you for information try to sprinkle an innocent bit of truth in with the lies.”

After speaking, Prowl turned his attention to Sunstreaker.

“Sunstreaker, as you have already said, you will be the ‘good cop’. You will also be trying to get Knock Out to open up and trust you. Try to be friendly with him, strike up a conversation. Leave the rough stuff to me. But at all times, emphasis that you cannot help him unless he gives you something, otherwise you cannot prevent your superior officers from doing the unpleasant things.”

Once he was done, he looked at the both of them.

“Questions?”

[Carbine]

Sunstreaker continued to be ignored in Carbine's current mindset, the humorous approach she was taking around a higher officer seen as annoying rather than amusing. In the past, he would have eagerly played along. Jovial, messing around, trying to insert nonsense to lighten everything up and make others laugh. Who he had once been seemed to have been cut down however since the incident with Windshield hit, and he felt it too difficult to tap into that side of himself again for longer than a couple fleeting moments. Everything felt so insulting instead, making him feel rather worthless and not deserving of having any sort of good time. He simply had to wait through the flippant greetings for what was to come, to hear EXACTLY how he would need to handle things, and Carbine did not need to wait long for the information to flow.

And information it was.

Bloated and long, spelling out everything clearly like a little script for the most inept of soul. Sunstreaker had boiled it down so much more than Prowl, trusting him to fill in the gaps himself and read between the lines. While he was insulted at the way she used him to buff her frame, he was now even more insulted at Prowl who almost treated him like a moron that needed to be given so many details to play a deserter. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be taken as it was... the amount of detail likely was relevant! He had been feeling antagonistic and knew that he had to be taking everything personally that didn't need to be... alas, this was one more stone onto the pile whether he could logic it or not.

With a twitched movement, Carbine's right hand that was still obscured would flare out again, a jagged sort of hold to it with fingertips curled inward as if he were ready to grab at something, before it once more tightened into a fist.

Bottle everything up, don't make a scene, don’t cause issues. Be good. He told himself that he could be good! That he would make a true effort despite whatever emotions surged through him. Even if he felt personally insulted at the way he was approached and at the job that was thrown down onto him... it wasn't his call to make. If that was what the Autobot's needed... than so be it. He would do what he could to seek whatever result was most beneficial.

He just had to remember his promise.

I'̕͜͝M ̛͝N̨̛̛O̵͜T ̕͞ÇR̷͡ĄZ͘Y͜!
I c-c͞a̕n z͢z̧h c͠ha̷n-ge i͞f I ͏w͟-w͝a͘nt ͘to̢!

"Questions?"

"O̵ne."

A sharp singular word. Carbine didn't seem to acknowledge the laundry list of elements that had been offered. He didn’t affirm or deny it, he didn’t address the other roles that were in play... he merely stared back into Prowl's eyes, the fierce unblinking look boring down into him. The words that then followed were equally as abrupt and to the point, inflections and tones still a stern neutrality.

"Do ỳou̢ ̕want me mu̢zzled..."

Then his voice dipped, the last two words uttered in a growl that was paired with the animalistic snarl from deep within his chest, funneling much of what he felt into the open.

"Or real."

[Sunstreaker]

Like always, Prowl's remarks about getting her to shape up and stop playing around were brushed aside. She had a better handle on herself these days than most others could intuit, and it paid very well to be underestimated and to be cast as the joker. Sunstreaker knew better than most on that front. And of course, Prowl had no earthly idea about why she'd gotten a fresh polish in advance of their interrogation. There were only two people in Omega who she'd done this for, and only the opinions of one of them mattered.

The whole concept of a black operation was nothing new to her. She expected them under Prowl, but slowly her attention pivoted towards Carbine, namely as Prowl proceeded to spell it out. Sure, some of it was for the sake of the role, but a lot of that must've cut straight through the façade. Again, not a position she envied. He deserved to have some serious compensation for helping out. No way in hell she'd accept his role just for the sake of duty.

Good cop.

The phrase bounced around her head like an elastic ball. Sunny hated playing nice. Knock Out deserved far less than her good graces, after all. She wanted to bring a chair in with her, and a few phonebooks. He was a Decepticon after all; force was all they recognized and respected.

But, fine.

Sunny was great at anything she set her mind to, after all. She wouldn't shelve her pride to commit to the role, no no. She'd use it as fuel to light the bonfire of a killer performance she was about to make.

"Yeah," she interjected.

"We want what he knows, but what's the end goal?"

She implied that it wasn't just about what he knew. She implied that they could go even further, possibly. It was a very simple calculus in Sunstreaker's head, one she was prepared to illustrate on the invisible chalkboard sitting beside the group.

"He's sitting in there, thinking 'Oh, I only want to go home without telling the Autobots anything!'" She played up how flimsy she imagined his voice to sound.

"Because if he gets back to the Cons somehow, are they gonna believe him if he says he didn't talk?"

To her knowledge, the Decepticons lacked any real Snitch Repatriation program. Well, kind of. Sunny imagined it as a hole in the ground, beneath several tons of dirt.

"If we push him to confess to something actionable, I think we have a shot at having him defect for protection."

[Prowl]

Prowl paused for a moment, considering the options for a moment before he replied to Carbine’s one question.

“Real. The more authentic, the better your chances at convincing Knock Out that you’re the genuine article.”

As he said it though, deep down inside his spark there was a momentary flicker of fear. Fear that he had just unleashed something so unpredictable, so chaotic, that there would be little to no way of getting Carbine back under control once the need was gone. It flew in the face of Prowl’s central programming, the need to maintain order at any cost. However, as soon as it appeared millennium of military conflict and rationality reared up and muzzled any fear that had appeared.

Sometimes for order to be maintained and preserved, chaos needed to be let loose to destroy chaos.

He turned his attention towards Sunstreaker’s questions next.

“No opportunity for defection is to be offered without first clearing it with myself, Sunstreaker. Should Knock Out offer up actionable intelligence, all we will offer him for now in return will be possible immunity from any criminal charges that will come up at the end of the war.”

Should Prowl survive the war and the Autobots win, he was determined to have every single member of Decepticon high command who survived the war put on trial for terrorism and insurrection charges, at the very least. The war criminals would get their own chance in front of a tribunal, but Prowl was determined to get the ones who started the war and who profited from it to answer for that crime. Knock Out might not have started out as the Decepticon’s Chief Medical Officer, but he certainly profited for its continuation.

[Carbine]

In Carbine's mind, the lull between question and reply drew on for an eternity. Flickered seconds transitioning to moments. Moments drifting into minutes. It felt like far more time than it had any right being as he willed the other mech to think clearly on the decision he was about to make next. Whether he wanted him to act like a structured little plant trying to make an act within permitted parameters... parameters that could guide him in a way that made things stilted and more transparent... or if he wanted things unleashed and natural. There really wasn't a middle ground in Carbine's eyes, as you either had rules, or you did not, the only variable being how tight the choke chain was pulled and how obviously fake it could end up looking. After these short beats, Sunstreaker was the first to interject.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Yellow optics finally broke away from Prowl, a faceless helm crooking over just enough to look upon the femme from the corner of his gaze. Just as it was with the tactician, the stare was absolute and focused, muddled white pinpricks of pupils latching down into her features as she further elaborated what they hoped to accomplish here. In a way it made sense, though... there was a worry that such laws wouldn't apply to someone within the medical field.

Whether they wanted to face the fact or not, this Knock Out individual held a skillset that was growing more and more rare, and that even if he made a grandiose slight he could be welcomed back within reason. Punished. Made to re-think ever making such careless actions again... but not killed. Or, so would be Carbine's view on the matter and how he would be inclined to deal with it. Snap the mech's leg sideways and tear out his wheels so that he could never leave base and risk being captured again. Make him serve under the idea that 'Well... you could be dead!'.

After this viewpoint was elaborated upon, Prowl then spoke, drawing the black and white mech's focus back to him as he set down the rule that there really were no rules. Be real. Be authentic. Get what they wanted out of the mech. Carbine could do that, and it was the only bit of information he needed beyond what had already been offered. As such, right after Prowl verbally slapped Sunstreaker down to respect the chain of command, his posture shifted, breaking the stilted pose he had held before a mech that was well ranked over him.

"Hwhelp!"

Carbine's hands clapped together once and remained clasped as he exclaimed this, sharply transitioning to a much more casual state of being with an erratic swoop. This went so far that he planted all his weight onto one leg with a crook of his hip, and the structure of the optical projections relaxed from the wider more intense look, to a more natural shape. It was like a cord had been snapped, breaking him from the formality he had been clutching onto a moment previously.

"End goal d-do̴esn't͠ m̢atter to me. I knơw m̀y r̀-͟r-̀ole, good luck to you."

Less he knew, better it went.

"The mom̧ent we p-pass from hall to͡ bri̴g t͘he game is on."

[Sunstreaker]

It was a neat concept, truly. Wrangling the Decepticon CMO over to their side using very credible predictions about Megatron's opinion of squealers had been very brilliant. Because Sunstreaker had come up with it, of course. Prowl hadn't. She even unleashed her arsenal of big, important-sounding words to help elaborate on the concept. They had a real shot. Sunny had felt as much in her spark. But, despite her emotional and intellectual investment in her own plan, she wasn't all that surprised or moved that Prowler had swiftly shut it down.

She knew Prowl. Knew how he worked.

Oh well.

Back into the waste bin her tactical brain went.

Prowl's actual strategy relied on the assumption that the Autobots would win the war. But, if Knock Out could muster up enough evidence to form a valid counterpoint that, "No, you aren't", which wouldn't have been all that hard to do for an observant set of optics, he could push back against their offers of amnesty. Even if they did win, they might not get that much out of him.

Of course, this wasn't a problem for Prowl. It was her problem.

They couldn't purely offer him only amnesty, however. There needed to be a creep in that direction; a small trail of crumbs that would lead Knock Out to the desired conclusion, rather than trying to have him jump for it, and it alone. Get him hooked on privileges and concessions, then pull them out from under him when things take a turn. Granted, that was going to have to be Prowl's duty.

Sunstreaker was here to be pretty, considerate, and open to conversation.

Her diodes sizzled at the thought.

"Whatever. You're the boss, boss." It was a weary resignation on having to ditch her own end-goal, but Sunny didn't offer up any more fight. She was in, and committed.

But, there was something else she wasn't ready to give up yet.

"But," she began, raising a digit toward Carbine. "What's he getting out of this?" Because he should be getting something out of this, Sunny implied.

She furrowed a single brow at Prowl, silently pressing him for an answer.

Don't try to patronize him with the whole "Service as its own reward" or "Duty above all else" slag, Prowl her gaze communicated. "He's playing the heaviest part out of the three of us." It was also the realest and most vulnerable part any of them would be playing, too. It was abundantly clear that she didn't want Carbine to be thrown away again after going above and beyond for them.

[Prowl]

Was he expecting the impossible?

Perhaps. But since coming to Earth, a fire had been lit inside Prowl’s spark. Before, while he was wandering the stars, he had doubts. He thought the war was over, and that he was just running to hide from the Decepticons. Learning that Prime was alive meant that they had a fighting chance, because as long as Prime was alive and fighting, to Prowl that meant the war was still on, and that the chance of winning was always there.

And that was why he always expected to win at the end of this.

“Understood. Sunstreaker, after this you will escort Carbine to the brig cell adjacent to Knock Out.”

Once again, there was that small flicker of doubt in his mind as to if they were going too far with this plan of his, but it was quickly shoved aside. Prowl had no problem sacrificing Carbine’s body or mind if it meant that there was a chance at victory. Call it immoral all you want, but if one bot’s sanity was the price needed to ensure peace he would pay it gladly, even if it was his own.

Though sometimes, when he was alone with his thoughts, he wondered if he hadn’t already paid that price...

As for Sunstreaker’s question, he caught her look in his direction but did not visibly react to it, though he made a mental note to have a private conversation with her about it later. He didn’t need her second guessing him in front of the men.

“For faithfully executing this task Carbine, you’ll be given an extra half ration of energon for a month upon completion.”

He wasn’t going to promise medals or glory, just a physical reward. That should be enough to satisfy.

[Carbine]

The board was set, and Carbine was ready for the game, he just needed to wait for the countdown timer to hit zero and then all hell could break loose. He could do that, he certainly could! This was right up his alley and he had no problems funneling his time in Garrus if that was what was needed. Tucked in his side pocket was what felt like half a lifetime of experience in that sort of environment, so it would be rather easy to close his eyes and fall into the past for the Autobots.

It was just a pity that they weren’t going to be in the same cell.

Carbine KNEW he would be able to get that mech to say something if he was permitted true free reign. Interrogation from a goodie goodie Autobot? Pft. Whatever. Bear through it and move on... Interrogation by a defector looking for whatever info they could get hold of so they could survive on the outside? Much more unstable. Much more personalized attention. No chain of command... no hierarchy... no shackles... just a single mech willing to turn his back on the Autobots to do what HE wanted... and a single little medic was simply an obstacle in the way...

Oh well. It didn’t matter. Not his plan, not his place to protest. He could easily talk trash or who knows what to form a kinship. Roll with the flow and let things go where they go... It was these sorts of thoughts that Carbine was contemplating, before Sunstreaker spoke up and mentioned something he didn't really expect to hear.

Yellow optics flicked over to look at the femme as she asked Prowl what he was going to get out of this. It was something the ex-cop hadn't really thought over himself, which was somewhat atypical for his normal state of being. Grasping for opportunities... scrabbling for any sort of upper hand or object he could get in his possession to better his own personal goals... He had been so blinded by controlling his own temper, and reminding himself that he wanted to be good, that he had almost convinced himself that serving the Autobots was a reward in its own right!

Which was absolute nonsense.

Carbine was barely over the hurdle of realizing his own flaw of personal character, his gaze locked on Sunstreaker with a sort of surprised look that almost peered past her, before Prowl spoke, drawing his focus back.

A sharp abrupt laugh squawked out instantly before Carbine realized what was happening, and how badly such a response could look in the given situation. He couldn’t help it however. What had been spoken in reply as a little 'reward' was so astronomically ridiculous, that he could barely comprehend that someone would offer that as a legitimate prize for something like this. While it would have worked on Bolo, the gluttonous canine whose hunger knew no end, it certainly wasn’t something worth bragging about for more cognizant and aware individuals. Whatever the case, Carbine couldn't believe that was what was being thrown out as valid, barely processing that the mech was serious... before his single bark stopped as readily as it had begun.

"Oh wows! All f͘-f-͟fo̧r͘ ͜my̧ o̷wn?"

His laugh tapered down to a low amused chuckle that almost growled from his chest.

"I wa̴nt ̨im̴-im͠-kkz̀th-m̶un͝i̷t̢y ̢f̴ro̡m whatever I say or do. You w-want a show? I wil̶l gi̵ve įt."

[Sunstreaker]

Honestly, she wasn't sure what she expected. Perhaps she imagined Prowl would retort with something more akin to Carbine's offer. Hell, it's what she would've asked for in return for pulling off a charade of this caliber. On the other hand, the one that liked to gamble, she would've bet on the forever cop lowballing the ex-cop by an absurd margin. That hand in particular was going home rich today, or it would've, if her Shanix had still held any value.

Sunstreaker's expression betrayed no distinct emotion apart from heavily restrained surprise. A monthly half ration of Energon more? Why, Prowl might as well have just poured it into his hands. You could steal more than that in a month if you were so inclined. It came off as little more than a joke to Sunny, though she didn't doubt that her boss probably considered it the perfect reward for someone who didn't find much reward in duty itself.

Carbine had the right idea.

Sunny couldn't imagine any other instance in which an Autobot had to play prisoner like this. There was no precedent she could call back to, and she had no doubt that Prowl knew the same. He had complete impunity with which to dole out rewards of his choosing. She'd gotten the ball rolling on a potential reward, but it was now far outside her court. It was the boys' problem, now. Carbine had his precisely five seconds of advocacy, and now it was up to Prowl to negotiate; or, not to.

She kept silent as she exchanged a salvo of glances between both mechs, her body language calm and relaxed, underscoring the neutrality she'd just adopted. Prowl wouldn't budge, but she hoped he would. The immunity was a given, however. She'd shoot Prowl herself if he decided to charge Carbine for following orders, after all.

Or worse, she'd blab to Optimus.

[Prowl]

“Deal.”

Was the situation ideal? No. Did Prowl have any other options? No.

“But only for the duration of your undercover assignment.”

Prowl was not in the business of authorizing loose cannons, but after melenia of warfare he had decided that sometimes did justify the means. And if that meant unleashing a demon inside Carbine to possibly end the war, so be it. And if anyone had a problem with it, they could take it up with him after the gamble was finished. Sure, there was a possibility of failure, but that was always the case in situations such as these.

His gaze swung over to Sunstreaker, almost looking to see what kind of reaction she would have to him agreeing to this deal only to see that she had adopted a stance designed to indicate neutrality. Oh, she would be perfect for getting on Knock Out’s good side if she managed to keep this attitude of appearing to second guess him.

“Any more questions?” He asked the two of them.

[Carbine]

This was an irritating situation on many levels.

Carbine knew he could haggle for more... try to push his luck and get something viable to make this worth the effort instead of just asking for an immunity that was self-explanatory. The issue was, he didn't know if he wanted to go through such an effort in his emotionally battered state when he knew it would be a futile fight. All he could think of that he truly wanted was to be omitted from coastline or open water scouting missions. The Prime had said those were mandatory for all fliers in order to look for signs of the Decepticons, yet, the mere idea made his tank constrict in terror, and caused a wash of unease to flow over him.

There was no way he would be able to get out of such duties, especially looking to PROWL of all people for mercy. It not only would go against what Optimus ordered, but it would reveal that he was such a worthless coward that he couldn't even stomach the idea of flying over water where he could drop and sink like a rock if he were to mess up. Carbine didn't like showing weakness, however, he wanted to throw that variable out there on a blind hope Prowl’s reputation was over inflated and he could have a dash of mercy in there.

No... he couldn't...

"'Aight. No͞pe. ̨I̴ g͘o̕o͘d."

Carbine seemed almost happy at this turn of events, his voice a higher pitch while the bottom edges of his optical projections seemed to crook up in a sort of makeshift smile. It was hard to say though, given the less than expressive features, making others miss out on the more subtle cues that could come into play when seeing someone's actual eye shape, brows, or mouth. There was simply a shell of what could be there, which... was something the black and white mech cherished in moments such as this, as what was on display was a sort of false façade.

He was pissed. He was irritated. He was being used and profiled because he had one bad day on Earth, and he had a horrendous black ink streak across his past that no amount of white-out would ever be able to obscure. It was as if there was nothing he could do. No... it wasn't 'as if', it truly was nothing. Full stop. He was going to be used like this again no doubt, and Carbine just had to get accustomed to it and roll with the punches. Maybe he could make a name for himself, yes? Not that he wanted to... not when he wanted to turn a new leaf... but if it made him valuable who was to say. This logic aside, it still burned, and that seething ember of hate at the other two crackled beneath his faceless visor with an all too forced smile.

"Nobody else fits the profile. We checked."

Crooking his weight to his other hip, Carbine's upper frame turned while his leading shoulder hooked back, permitting him to get line of sight on the doorway they had come in from without turning completely around. A single series of clicks followed this, each of his white fingertips tapping once in a single roll across his palm while he considered his next actions. There were a few ways he could tackle this all too critical next step, and really there were no winners here in order to deal with his own little quirk when it came to doors and how others were placed around his frame.

With an eased movement, Carbine would walk to the side, keeping his torso canted slightly in the direction of the other two while he got to the door. It was here his nearest arm would reach out, hand splaying upon the panel's surface before he pushed it aside and open. Just as he had done to Sunstreaker earlier on, his other hand swung over to gesture out to the hallway, however there was not as much of the 'gentleman' flair. He wasn’t showing off to a lady, he was simply making a point, to try to get the other two to leave before him.

There was a sense that Sunstreaker would comply... or more... he hoped so... though Prowl was the larger wildcard here. Yellow optics would shift over to look at him, staring head on to see if he would pass, or make a big deal about having the door opened for him and an indication made for him to get the hell out of the room first instead.

"Let's get th͞is s̀h-͜s̴h-s̵h͝o̕ẃ ́on t͟he road."

Just go.

[Sunstreaker]

If he had no soul, it could at least be said that Prowl had some moralized logic to govern his actions. She didn't doubt him that much, of course. Sunny kept that hard gaze on him as he acquiesced to Carbine's offer, not belying any hint of satisfaction, shock, or surprise as he did so. All that reflected from the surface was simply a blink, the ticking over to another cycle, and a paucity of emotion. Internally however, Sunstreaker's "emotional eyebrows" shot up.

Prowl's reputation as being difficult to negotiate with, coupled with his generous readiness to accept the added terms played havoc with her predictive sense organ. Of course, neither of them would've been able to pick up a read on that without being a mind-reader.

Regardless, Sunny was simply glad he hadn't just shot poor Carbine down again. She couldn't push him for more at the moment; the two of them were out of ammo, after all. Sunny's contribution had been half a ration of Energon, while Carbine would have his 'comments' stricken from the record. Best they could do, really, and she settled with that.

"And the half-portion. Can't forget the half-portion..."

Sunstreaker fired off one last rapid burst toward Prowl, mostly to tease him for his initial offer. That, and to remind him that it was still a term of the deal. If it'd been her on the chopping block, she would've pressed for far more than half of a meal and some black ink.

With a slow, tense movement, Sunny hoisted her arms above her helm. Her right hand, palm up, pressed into the digits of her left hand. A soft grumble echoed through her vocabulator. Plates shifted and clinked together as she had one last stretch before they all hit the trenches. Lowering her arms, Sunny rolled her head side to side, making sure she ironed out every crack in her joints.

She took two steps toward the door, unthinking as Carbine showed her back out into the hall, before she stopped. Omega's #2 Cop slowly spun on her heel, hands planted on her hips.

"We good?" she asked of Prowl.