Chapter Text
Iacon at night was a sprawling beast, neon lights cascading down the towering high-rises, casting corners and alleys into a chaotic blend of vibrant color and deep shadow.
Loud music throbbed through the streets, the bass pounding like an overclocked engine. Prowl could still make out the lyrics even as his audio receptors hummed from the screeching tires of his target ahead.
He shouldered past a bot, barely registering the splash of Engex that sprayed across his chevron, his optics locked on the mech weaving through the crowd ahead.
“Police Defense Command! Do not engage!” he commanded, his voice slicing through the noise. In one fluid move, he hit the sirens, transforming mid-step as his tires hit the pavement with a smoking screech. Just for a second, he let himself imagine—Primus, if only he could push a permanent ban on engex in this district. What he’d give.
Till his target executed an unexpected reverse.
Scrap.
The speedster shot backwards, slamming into his bumper and sending them both into a wild, skidding spiral. Prowl’s processor scrambled unable to gain enough stability. Causing him to crash into a statue of Nova Prime. The impact shattered his amour and sent debris across the street. In a twisted turn of fate, the statue’s massive head toppled, pinning the fleeing mech beneath it with a sickening crunch.
Prowl felt a surge of frustration.
Property damage: excessive. Target apprehended...but not without chaos. He quickly calculated his performance, his internal efficiency rating plummeting to a stark 38 percent.
Rating: unacceptable.
He mentally noted his shortcomings: reduce collateral damage next time.
Clearing debris from his optics, Prowl took a moment to re-center himself. His mind buzzed with self-critique, the sting of failure lingering like a dull ache.
“You good, Prowl?” Skyfire’s voice cut through the fog, grounding him in the moment. The larger bot landed beside him, transforming smoothly as he extended a steady hand. Concern shone in Skyfire’s optics as he knelt. Prowl hesitated for a brief moment before accepting the support, using it to pull himself upright.
With unwavering determination, he dragged his legs toward the target, intent on cuffing him before he had a chance to escape again.
“Primus, your back! Doesn’t that hurt?” Skyfire asked, optics widening in shock.
“Status: operational,” he forced out. Struggling against the sharp throb in his door wings. Which bled energon in thick, dripping streams, pooling ominously on the ground beneath him.
“I’ll head in for repairs,” Prowl said, managing a thin, strained smile for Skyfire’s benefit.
“If you need help with the report, let me know.” Before Skyfire could respond, he transformed and sped away into the neon-lit maze, leaving his partner’s worried gaze in his rearview.
His logic-driven mind assessed each flaw, each moment lost, and every dent and error. With every assessment, his resolve solidified.
Iacon demanded everything from him, and that’s what he intended to give—right down to the last drop.