Spark Sword

"Here’s the box you wanted, Prowl,” Bulkhead announced from the large door leading into Prowl’s quarters.

Prowl stopped sweeping the last of the leaves and dirt and turned to looked at the green mech and the small, to Bulkhead, metal box he was holding.  “I trust you didn’t have any trouble finding it?”

“It was right where you said it would be,” Bulkhead answered.  “Where do you want it?”

Prowl shrugged slightly.  The room was completely empty except for the tree.  The concrete floor was relatively clean now; the walls scrubbed and barren of decoration.  
“Put it anywhere, Bulkhead.”  He studied the box in Bulkhead's hands.  It was clean and dry.  "I was afraid there might have been a leak in the storage locker.  I take it the Ark is holding up well under water?"

The big mech nodded amiably and entered the room looking around for a spot. “Oh, yeah, she's solid as a rock and happy as a clam.  Teletran 1 now, she's a little on the slagged side.  I think she's bored," he rambled on as he tried to decide on a place to put the box.  Nothing seemed better than right at his feet so he set the metal box down with a clank and grinned at Prowl.  "Ya know, you’re the only one with any personal things besides data pads and tapes.  What didya bring?”

Sari stuck her head into the room.  “What’s going on?  What’s in the box?  Wow, the room looks great, Prowl.  A little plain but it’s clean.”

“Thank you, Sari.  I felt bad evicting the snakes but I think they’ll be happier outside.”  Prowl glanced at the box and then at the two curious faces.  There was no harm in showing them the contents of the box.  He was planning on displaying them anyway.  "Come and look."

Sari shot between Bulkhead's legs and skidded to a stop a foot from the box.  It was longer than she was tall and came up to her waist.  The metal had intricate symbols carved into the burnished surface and was very beautiful.  Prowl bent down and carefully unlocked it.

"It was a choice between some data pads I'd read a thousand times and these. I didn't feel like I could trust anybody to take care of them, not even…well, no one."  He lifted the lid and Sari gasped.

"Oh," she whispered.
"Wow," Bulkhead said.  "I wouldn't've left them behind either."

Prowl carefully lifted a shining sword from the padding it lay in and held it out for Sari to look at.  "They're so beautiful, like Samurai swords, uh, Katanas, but they couldn't be because you brought them from Cybertron.  What are they?" she asked in awe.

Prowl filed away the words Sari had said.  If something on Earth was reminiscent of his swords, he was very curious to learn about it.  "They're Spark swords.  They're called that because legend says a piece of the weapon maker's Spark is embedded in each sword.  I don't know if it's true or not but they are very special weapons.  They almost seem like they have a mind of their own."  

He brushed the tips of his fingers across the blade. "I am a master in the use of this type of sword.  These swords are very old.  In fact, they were very old when I found them and I've had them a long time."  His voice trailed off as he thought about them.

"Are they just collectors' items or have you ever used them?" Sari asked after the silence went on for a bit too long.

The motorcycle mech looked up at her.  "Once," he said…

******

Prowl carefully removed the wrapping material from the box that had just been delivered to his quarters.  He lifted the lid of the box containing three Spark swords he'd discovered in one of the underground bazaars where anything could be found and bought…for the right price.  It had been obvious that the seller had no idea what he had because Prowl had bought them for a pittance of their true worth.  He only had a brief pricking of his conscience as he handed over the credits but dismissed it because, after all, he would take good care of them, much better than the oily scraps the merchant had them wrapped in.

Lifting one out of the hastily packed box, he turned it over in his hands, admiring the reflections the light cast on the blade.  He laid it down and removed the second blade.  It was as beautiful as the first.  The third lay in its place in the box, lovely as the first two.

He stood and hefted the blade, testing its balance.  The sword was perfect.  Blades like this just weren't made anymore.  If the tales were true, there probably wasn't a sword maker alive who would be willing to make one.

He prepared to swing it when a faint scrape of metal on metal startled him.  He spun around, blade in first position and found himself facing a mech he'd never seen before in his room when the door had been locked.  The stranger met Prowl's surprised optics with a smirk.  Still in position, blade poised and ready for the first move, Prowl quickly examined the mech.  He was taller than Prowl and more solidly built and had a longer reach. His armor was a pristine white with night black markings on his torso, arms and legs.  He had a blue optic band instead of individual optics and a helmet with a small brim that cast the band into shadow.  Dead center on his chest was the Autobot sigil, the only spot of color on the mech.  Prowl remained tense. Whoever he was, he was good.  He'd gotten the drop on Prowl in his own room, probably purposely giving himself away at the last second.

The black and white mech nodded at the sword, "Ya any good with it?"  His softly accented voice spoke of a life on the streets, that wasn't apparent from his appearance.

Prowl kept his face still, no smile in response to the question.  Calmly he said, "I am a master of the Spark sword."

The mech's smirk turned into a smile.  "I guess that means 'yes.'  Ya up for a test of that claim?"

"I claimed nothing.  I merely said I was a master.  Someone else has judged my skill."

Laughing, the mech said, "True, true.  I shouldn't put words in yer mouth.  Still, you wanna give those swords a workout?"

That was exactly what Prowl wanted to do, but he'd not expected it to happen.  He nodded and relaxed but didn't take his optics from the face of the stranger.  He took a step back and picked up the second sword.  Holding them across his palms, he offered the stranger his choice of weapon.

The black and white nodded politely at the offer and without glancing at the weapons, took the one nearest him.  Prowl stepped back and let him test the blade and get a feel for it.

He swung it about a couple of time and then without a proper acknowledgement, the mech attacked.  Not having let his guard drop, Prowl was not taken by surprise and parried the blow smoothly.  The black and white advanced aggressively and Prowl went on the defensive giving himself a chance to study his opponent, getting a feel for his technique and skill level.  He was good.  Strong yet graceful, his technique showing he'd studied under a master but after a few minutes of parrying, Prowl knew that he was better.  He let the mech continue his aggressive attack, building up his confidence, allowing the stronger mech to wear himself down.

There was a slight hesitation with the next blow and then a dragging of a foot and Prowl was ready.  He took the offense, his blade a blur as he attacked.  The mech stepped back and then took another step back.  The flat of Prowl's blade slapped his opponent's fingers hard and with a yelp, the mech dropped the sword.  He quickly raised both hands in defeat, but Prowl was having none of it.  This stranger had broken into his room and challenged him and he was going to find out why.  He kept the blade flashing in front of the mech, driving him back, that annoying smirk wiped clean off his face plate.  With a crunch, the black and white hit the wall behind him and Prowl pressed forward, stopping only when his blade touched the exposed throat of the mech.

"I give, I give," the black and white gasped.  Prowl didn't back down, his mouth a tight, grim line.

"Who are you?" he hissed.  "Tell me now or I'll finish this."

Suddenly, the mech started to laugh. "Oh, ya will? Okay, I dare ya, but I don't think ya can."


Prowl pressed the blade forward. It touched the mech's throat and a drop of energon appeared on the blade glowing pinkly. He held it for a moment and then let the sword drop. "I don't want to get energon on my rug," he said and backed away.


The black and white reached up and rubbed his throat and then looked at the fluid on his fingers. For a moment, the look he gave Prowl scared the smaller mech. There was death there, probably his own. Then the mech laughed again and wiped his hand on his hip. He looked down at the floor. "You don't have a rug."


Prowl followed his gaze and then met his optic band and shrugged with a very small smile.


Jazz guffawed. "You had me going there for a klick.  Takes a lot of bearings to do that.  The name's Jazz."  He grinned at Prowl as if Prowl should be impressed.

Prowl looked blankly back and shrugged.  "Prowl," he said.

Jazz looked vaguely disappointed at not being recognized but recovered and smirked at the smaller mech.  "Yeah, I know.  Ya know, yer every bit as good as I heard.  No, yer better."

Prowl acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod of his head.  "Better than you, anyway," he dared.  

"Hah," Jazz chuckled.  "Nobody mentioned ya had a smart mouth."

Prowl actually let his mouth curve up into a small smile.  "Nobody asked.   I am, however, asking you why you're in my quarters.  I know you didn't sneak in to give me a workout."

"I'm recruitin'," Jazz answered.  "I had ta check ya out.  Make sure you're up to what I'm offerin'."

Prowl looked at the Autobot symbol on Jazz's chest.  "Not interested," he responded and started to turn away, no longer listening.

"You haven't even heard what I'm offerin'," Jazz said quickly, stopping Prowl in his tracks.

"I have a job.  It pays well enough.  I'm satisfied with it," he responded without turning around.

Jazz checked his throat again to make sure the bleeding had stopped.  "A glorified security guard.  How satisfied can ya be with that?  I bet this was the first time since you started that ya got a chance ta work out.  I'm right, aren't I?" Prowl turned and responded with that small shrug, expressing his indifference to anything Jazz thought.  Jazz ignored it.  "I'm offerin' you a chance ta do some good.  Ta help others.  Ta use what Primus gave ya.  I want ya ta join my team."

"I'm not a team player.  If you'd done your research like you said you did, you'd know that."

Jazz brushed that aside with a wave of his hand.  "I don't think there's a team player among my entire team.  Or at least, among the bots I have.  I'm not lookin' for team players, I'm lookin' for the best; the best fighters, the best engineers, the smartest scientists, the oil that floats on the surface.  I want you because yer the best.  

"And don't think I didn't notice you eyein' that little face there."  He pointed at the sigil on his chest.  "If it's joinin' up that yer worried about then don't.  This is my team.  You answer to me and nobody else."

Prowl listened to Jazz carefully.  He maintained his indifference, but Jazz had said one thing that might actually make a difference.  It was a chance to help others, not just go through life without a goal or a cause.  He hadn't wanted to remain sequestered in the school but he also didn't want to waste what he'd accomplished doing menial jobs just to earn living credits. "I'll think about it…"

Jazz shook his head.  "No, don't just think about it.  Come with me.  Come meet the others, talk ta them, hear what they have ta say."

"I…," Prowl hesitated.  He wanted to say 'yes' but he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do or the force of Jazz' personality compelling his answer. "Yes, I'll come talk to your friends.  Let me put the swords away first."

Jazz laughed and clapped the small mech on the back.  "You won't regret it."

Prowl picked up the two swords and carefully packed them away.  "One thing," he said without looking up.  "What is your specialty?"

Jazz squatted down next to Prowl.  "A little o' this, a little o' that.  Mostly I talk people inta things.  And I blow stuff up."

***

Sari laughed.  "Did he really blow stuff up?"

Prowl nodded.  "As far as I know, he still does.  He was exceptionally good at it."

"And you joined the team?" Bulkhead asked in wonder.  He knew which team Prowl was talking about.  He was more than a little stunned to hear that Prowl had been one of Ultra Magnus' Elites.

"Yes, I did."  He carefully returned the sword to its place in the box.

"What happened?"

Prowl ignored Bulkhead.  Instead he picked up the box and moved it to a corner of the room where it would be out of the way.  Without a glance back at the pair, he leaped into the tree and disappeared into the foliage.

"Guess he doesn't want to talk about it," Sari said.

"Just like Ratchet.  Nobody wants to talk about anything."

"What about you, Bulkhead?  Why are you part of the crew?"

Bulkhead sniffed and looked everywhere but at Sari.  "I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled and headed out the door.