Chapter Text
"Your contracts are still owned by the Tri-Torus Manufacturing Corporation," Mirage explained once they were all settled in the main passenger compartment. "I have you on loan, as it were. It's complicated, but there are various reasons I wasn't allowed to simply buy your contracts outright. Frankly, I think they're nonsense, but then again, if I agreed with any part of what they're doing with regards to cold-constructed mecha in Praxus, I wouldn't be doing this."
"That's why you said our contracts were roughly the same," Prowl realized. "We still owe the construction debt."
"We were trying to get away from the construction debt!" Bluestreak protested. "Being in another city doesn't fix that at all. Uh, sir."
"You don't need to call me 'sir' or 'eres' when we're alone," Mirage told them. "No, it doesn't. I can't undo that, but I can pay you well enough to start bringing it down faster. There's no limit on what I can pay you, after all – or where I can claim I sent you."
"You'll free us and just – let us go?" Smokescreen asked. "Forgive me for saying this, but not only do I have some doubts, but I'm also not sure how we'd support ourselves."
"Smokescreen is right," Bluestreak added. "We don't have any experience outside of the facility. We don't know how to – I don't even know what we don't know how to do!"
"Don't worry," Mirage said kindly. "I won't have Eight Track pull over and drop you off on the side of the highway. You will work for me, that part was true, and learn about surviving on your own. Then, after a few lunar cycles, we'll make it look like you've been transferred somewhere out of the way. A distant colony, one of the poles or moons – somewhere it's not cost—effective for them to go looking for you."
"And where will we really be?" Prowl asked, not without skepticism.
"To start with, you'll be in a large city – Iacon, Kaon, Polyhex – where you can blend in more easily. It's recommended you stay there for a while, but after that," Mirage shrugged. "You can go anywhere you want."
"You're being very open with this," Smokescreen observed. "Aren't you worried about us reporting back to the corporation?"
"Try and send a comm," Mirage invited. "You'll find it's completely shielded. You're quite right about that being a concern. You'll be watched, your communications monitored, for a while. But we're fairly good at identifying who is genuine and who might be a risk."
"You could have left others behind, in error, who genuinely wanted to get out," Prowl pointed out. He understood the why of it, but he didn't have to like it.
Mirage looked sombre. "I know. I wish operations didn't have to have an acceptable casualty margin, but they do, and I know some people will fall under that. I don't like it, but the work to prevent wage slavery through legislation is ongoing."
Prowl understood Mirage's point of view, and the mech was correct. But that didn't mean Prowl had to like it.
"At least we got you three out," Mirage said. "It's rare to have newly onlined mecha seeking to get out. It usually takes longer before they realize how unjust the system is and its many pitfalls. That it's unlikely they'll ever get out from under their debt to the city on their own."
"Prowl's the one who figured it out first," Bluestreak said proudly.
Mirage nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "That's not surprising, given what I saw in your files, but I'm sure the two of you weren't far behind. You are the highest—scoring members of your batch."
"Which makes me wonder how you were able to convince the director to release you to us as guards," Prowl said pointedly, "especially since, at least in the case of Bluestreak and myself, we were still to be active experimental subjects."
"Until they got access to your sparks, yes," Mirage said with a distinctly unhappy twist to the corner of his mouth. "That was out of bounds. Cold-constructed or not, your rights to your spark are still recognized, and I did not like how far Flatline and Blueshift were prepared to go. The experiments have been paused, pending closure, but it was another factor in choosing to remove you. Officially, I picked you for the prestige of having such high—scoring cadets in my guard, status symbols to show off my family's power in the corporation, etc. etc."
"But you said this was temporary," Smokescreen pointed out. "What happens when our contract with you is up?"
Mirage shrugged one shoulder. "Perhaps I've sent you to one of my facilities on a distant colony, and it isn't worth calling you back, or the data work transferring you back to Praxus is accidentally corrupted. Maybe I'll extend the contract, or you'll have done such excellent work I decide to pay off your debts as a gesture of gratitude. We might have to stage an accident or an assassination attempt for that, though. It will depend on how things go and what we've recently used as a cover for others. What we can't do is have you run away." His tone gentled slightly. "I'm sorry, I know you wanted out, and this can't feel much better than the facility. I know you may not trust me, but I can promise you that there's an out at the end of this."
"Do we have any choices in this?" Prowl asked.
Mirage met his optics levelly. "Yes. You can follow the road I've laid out for you, or if you really want it, I can give you some shanix and drop you off in a town to make it on your own. People have done that. Some of them made it. More of them were taken back and placed under extra surveillance, with the cost of their retrieval added to their construction debt. A few we were never able to trace."
"So, choices, but no good ones," Smokescreen said drily.
"I'm afraid not," Mirage said calmly.
Prowl looked at his friends, seeing the same thing in their optics he knew were in his. Mirage's description of their choices was nothing Prowl couldn't have guessed for himself. They would have little shanix, no identification, and no reliable way to earn money or obtain false papers. Following Mirage's plan was the best option. There were no guarantees, but –
'Bluestreak?' Prowl asked. Of the three of them, Bluestreak had the best sense for people. They would follow his lead if he wanted them to trust Mirage.
'I don't think he's lying,' Bluestreak said. 'He doesn't have any reason to. If this were a trap like we were worried about, we're already well out of Praxus and trapped in the transport. It's like you said back at the facility: he doesn’t need to trap us. He doesn't need to lie to us. I mean, maybe he could be, but I don't think it's really probable based on his tone and body language, and he doesn't have a reason to hide that either, so – '
'Blue,' Smokescreen interrupted gently. 'Yes or no?'
'Oh. Sorry. Yes.'
"We'll follow your plan," Prowl told Mirage.
Mirage nodded. "It really is your best bet. Let me give you more details about what to expect when we arrive…."
Mirage spent the rest of their trip to Vespertine Blue briefing them on what to expect and answering questions. Despite Bluestreak's reassurances, Prowl was still slightly on edge, but as they settled into their new lives at Mirage's Tower, he started to relax. Everything worked out as Mirage had told them they would. Working as a guard was not the career he would have chosen for himself, but Prowl could handle it if it meant getting free of Praxus' hold on him. Learning what they'd need to do to live as independent mecha was fascinating and unnerving. The facility had given him no idea how complex things like finding a habsuite, maintaining a home, and filing one's taxes would be. In the world Prowl had previously inhabited, you were assigned quarters, taxes were taken from your pay, and if you had a problem, you called maintenance. Prowl had never had cause to do those last two, and he found his inexperience appalling and worrying.
"I know it's daunting," Iatris, their tutor in these matters and Mirage's head of household, said kindly. "Don't worry. You'll still have support when you're on your own. Let's give this a break and do some social interaction roleplays."
Prowl had basic social interaction protocols installed; they were a part of every Cybertronian's base programming and would have built on those throughout his newbuild stellar cycles. The roleplays were designed to build the protocols faster and help the mecha hide. If Tri-Torus came looking, they'd be looking for mecha with less—developed protocols. It was a small thing, but, as with evidence, small things built up.
Prowl tended to be a little blunt with social interaction but learned to soften that with tone, body language, and expressions. Bluestreak was chatty and friendly and occasionally got fascinated with his subject and forgot to let the other person get a word in. Smokescreen discovered an ability to read expressions and body language advanced enough that Prowl wondered if an outlier ability had been missed after all.
Unfortunately, Smokescreen also discovered gambling. Prowl was already planning to keep an optic on that. He had an uneasy feeling his friend might go too far with it and hoped he was wrong.
They also got to interact with the other security guards and staff members, none of whom were aware their story was a cover. Their sessions with Iatris always coincided with Mirage being out of the Tower and the three of them allegedly serving as his personal guard. Only, Mirage was not always out of the Tower, and Prowl found out why he had a personal interest in cold-constructs with outlier abilities: he had one himself.
"Ooh, that's amazing!" Bluestreak exclaimed when Mirage demonstrated for them by turning invisible. "And useful! Do you ever do that to go out without anyone knowing? I would! Do you still show up on infrared? Do you set off motion detectors? Do – "
"Bluestreak," Prowl interrupted gently with a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Ohh, I'm sorry, Mirage," Bluestreak apologized. "It's just – you're so interesting!"
Mirage chuckled. "I don't mind; they're all questions I'm used to. But, I'm afraid I can't give away all my secrets."
"Oh, of course not," Bluestreak said and gave Mirage an innocent, hopeful look. "But – one or two?"
"Well, I suppose it can't hurt to admit I sneak out sometimes," Mirage said with a smile. "And that I use it to sneak leftover treats from the kitchens after events."
The hopeful look intensified. It also worked because a small selection of treats was waiting at their next session.
Prowl never lost the feeling that they might be recalled to Praxus at any time, but he did become more confident that they would be able to manage on their own once Mirage released them. That time felt simultaneously close and very far away. He was also not as confident as Mirage that Tri-Torus would not come looking for them, even though the noble had assured them the project they'd been part of had been shut down. They had made virtually no inroads on their construction debt – naturally, that was by the company's design, but still – and Prowl still had experimental hardware in his processor. Mirage would have to come up with a cover for them that made it seem too expensive to recover him.
"They still have the schematics," Mirage reassured him. "If it's more expensive to retrieve you – or they think it is – than it is to build a new one, they'll build a new one."
"They'll need a new mech to install it in," Prowl pointed out, remembering the other two mecha who had been subjects of the same experiment and feeling uneasy.
"I know." Mirage looked sombre. "But there's nothing to be done about that right now. And, Prowl, you must know that as well as we plan, no matter how well we execute that plan, there will always be risk. Unless and until the appropriate laws are passed, at least."
Prowl looked up at him skeptically. "How likely do you think that is?"
Mirage's mouth twisted in a wry expression. "How much longer will Sentinel be Prime? How much longer will the current Senate sit? It's being worked on."
That was hardly an encouraging answer, but Prowl knew it was the only one Mirage could give.
Orbital cycles passed and Prowl and his two companions finally got the word that they would be sent as honour guards to one of Mirage's distant contacts on a colony world. It took two space bridge jumps and a ship to get there, but the contact was a powerful, wealthy, and ostentatious Tower member. He wanted the best, and Mirage would claim to have told him that was the three Praxians. Looking at the destination on a star chart, Prowl had to admit it would be costly for Tri-Torus to hunt them down and retrieve them there.
"But, we'll really be in Iacon," Bluestreak worried. "What if someone sees us here?"
"We'll provide you with repaints and even some minor physical alterations if you want them," Mirage reassured him. "Plus, your spark will naturally make small changes to your appearances: you wouldn't always have looked the same as your batch-mates anyway."
Prowl thought he had already noticed some minor changes between his appearance and that of Smokescreen, less so with Bluestreak. He did accept a few slight modifications and a repaint, though he could not quite bring himself to let go of the black—and—white livery of a peace officer. It was at least different enough to not mark him as being a Praxian Enforcer. It was also different from Mirage's Tower's livery, and that, more than anything, told Prowl their time there was done.
Mirage kept his word, giving them a place to live, new backgrounds, and new identities. Their names were reasonably common, and with new appearances and identifications, only their locatives needed to be changed. Soon, Prowl of Petrex, Bluestreak of Iacon Minor, and Smokescreen of Yuss were ensconced in a new habsuite, a bit small and crowded but theirs, and settling into new jobs.
Prowl still felt drawn to law enforcement and found employment with Iacon's Enforcers thanks to Mirage's connections. Bluestreak had found a job in commerce and not at all reluctantly stepped away from life as a sniper. Smokescreen – and even Prowl was not sure how he'd managed this – had lucked his way into a government agency position. Prowl wasn't entirely clear on his friend's position, but given its probable nature, it made sense that Smokescreen wouldn't be able to give them much information. Prowl had been given numbers to create the household budget with, so he at least knew a minimum for what Smokescreen was earning. It certainly wasn't for a position with few responsibilities.
Prowl's position had fewer responsibilities than he would have liked, but reasonable considering his false background. He was starting as a patrol officer, but he was confident he could work his way up. Iacon PD had initiatives and funding available to their officers for further education, and Prowl could take advantage of them without worrying about being buried in debt. He could take the courses and leave for a civilian position if he wanted to!
Today, though, Prowl was not required to work but had not gone out to explore Iacon as another recent arrival might have. He was still not entirely comfortable being out on his own for extended periods, though he was becoming more confident that Tri-Torus was not attempting to retrieve them. Despite the precautions Mirage's people had put in place, Prowl didn't feel entirely safe, nor entirely believe they wouldn't want their prototype back. For safety, Prowl still preferred to be out in company, either that of his patrol partner, Smokescreen, Bluestreak, or both. So, he had spent the day at home, doing his friends the favour of taking on their share of the day's chores and cleaning their habsuite. He would not do that regularly, but he thought they would appreciate the gesture.
Prowl also experimented with preparing treats at home. The finished results were oddly—shaped and perhaps slightly wobblier than they should have been, but edible. Once that was done, and the workspace tidied, he found himself at loose ends. There were still joors before the others were due home, and Prowl – Prowl was not accustomed to having to entertain himself.
The options available on the entertainment system that had come with the habsuite, basic though they were, still seemed overwhelming, and Prowl gave up trying to find something. It was easier to come to a decision when others were there to hold a discussion with. Instead, he found himself on the DataNet, searching for information on Iaconian customs. He'd said a few things to his partner, Strongarm, that she'd seemed surprised by then had diplomatically explained that things were different between Praxus and Iacon. Iatris's lessons hadn't covered everything, though, given the complexities of social interaction, that wasn't entirely surprising. Still, Prowl disliked making missteps and wanted to avoid making any more of them.
Iacon was, with debate in some places, considered the cultural and religious centre of Cybertron, so it was no surprise that Prowl found himself reading up on more than just manners. Much of what he read seemed like it should have been included in the data he'd onlined with. Conjunx endurae were something he'd been aware of, but in the sense that they were something he might encounter during his duties. Amicae endurae had not been mentioned at all. A great deal of information on civilian socialization, religion, and relationships beyond basic friendship was briefly touched on or not mentioned in his default datatrax. Prowl had the unsettling feeling that Praxus had not wanted its cold-constructed Enforcers to have loyalties that might be deeper than those to their city.
But he was gone from Praxus now, and it didn't matter what they had wanted, Prowl told himself. And this concept of Amicae endurae fascinated him. He curled up on their slightly—battered second—hand couch with his tablet and immersed himself in new information.
There was so much more than he'd imagined, and he lost track of time, only realizing evening was coming when Bluestreak and Smokescreen came home.
"Hi, Prowl!" Bluestreak said cheerfully. "Did you have a good – oh, treats! Where did you get these?"
"I made them," Prowl said, standing and stretching. He subspaced his datapad, not ready to talk to his friends about what he'd been reading up on. "They taste better than they look."
"They look fine," Smokescreen reassured him. "I see you cleaned up, too: thank you. I know it wasn't your turn."
"I wanted to do something helpful," Prowl explained. "I thought it might be a nice surprise."
Smokescreen, the one who liked chores least, smiled at him. "It was!"
"Yeah," Bluestreak said, hastily swallowing a mouthful of treat. "It was really nice of you! And these treats are good!"
"Since you cleaned and made treats, why don't I take care of dinner?" Smokescreen suggested. "Any preferences?"
Dinner required some discussion and negotiation, but eventually, they settled on a restaurant that did a little bit of everything. They sat around the small table in their living area, eating and chatting, mainly ignoring the movie playing on their second—hand entertainment system. Prowl finished his fuel while he listened to Bluestreak and Smokescreen debate the storyline in a vid series they followed. Prowl wasn't as interested in it. Still, he liked listening to his friends chatting and laughing, enjoying themselves even with differing opinions. He didn't have anything to contribute to the discussion, yet he was content.
Prowl preferred to think his course of action through thoroughly before engaging in it, and he applied that to everything he did. When he wanted to undertake something as important as asking his friends to become his amicae, he put a lot of thought into it. It was something he wanted: he just hoped Bluestreak and Smokescreen wanted it too. Prowl had little interest in religion and ritual – Smokescreen had far more – but this one simply spoke to him. He wanted to complete it.
First, though, he had to wait for a time that they were all together. Prowl had begun being invited to after—work get—togethers, and while he didn't accept all of them, he accepted a few. In addition to wanting to get along with his coworkers, the larger the number of contacts he had, the harder it would be for Tri-Torus to uproot him or remove him unnoticed. Bluestreak, cheerful and gregarious, was also making other friends, and Smokescreen – well, Smokescreen was often out late, but Prowl wasn't entirely sure it was for social reasons. Not all the time, at least. Prowl didn't want to interrupt their socializing: he wanted them to have a wider social circle.
But, there was finally an evening where their schedules synchronized, and Prowl sat down with them to explain the ritual and make his request.
"And you're sure you want to do this?" Smokescreen asked quietly. "You've never wanted to expose your spark before."
"I haven't," Prowl said honestly. "But to you two – it's different. I trust you. You're my closest friends, and – you are dear to me."
Smokescreen's optics flickered emotionally. "As long as you're sure. You're – you're dear to me too, Prowl."
"And me," Bluestreak added softly. "Both of you."
"Thank you." Prowl took a moment, centring himself, then sent the commands to open his spark chamber. He'd expected to feel nervous the first time he exposed his spark, and perhaps if it had been to anyone but Bluestreak and Smokescreen, he would have been. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark that you may feel the heat of my words and know them to be true. I invite you to receive my light and, in doing so, become Amicae Endurae — from now until forever. Bluestreak, for your kindness. Smokescreen, for your strength. As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."
Bluestreak's grip on his hand was tight, and Smokescreen's voice was staticky, but they repeated the words "today, tomorrow, and always" in perfect unison.
When Bluestreak hugged him enthusiastically, Prowl had barely gotten his armour closed back up again. Smokescreen added himself to the embrace a moment later, wrapping one arm around Bluestreak and the other around Prowl.
"Thank you, Prowl," Smokescreen said, briefly pressing his cheek against Prowl's.
"I love you guys," Bluestreak said, voice slightly muffled. 'I'm glad we're all together."
"Yes," Prowl said and hugged them back tightly. "So am I."