Universe: G1 AU
Characters: Bluestreak, Prowl
Notes:  placed several vorns after Lost and Found, in the midst of the war. Bluestreak is... Somewhat an adult.

"I really don't like killing, you know?" Bluestreak whispered softly, watching that mech moving on the battlefield. He was so close but so far "believe me, I don't. Sorry mech. But I have my job, you have yours. I do mine very well."
A light push, no more. The mech in his gunsight shuddered and fell, too far for him to hear anything. Good.
Bluestreak hated the screech of dying mechs.
His favorite part of his rifle was the silencer. Ironhide had customized that, made sure it only softly whistled when the bullet hissed hurling toward its target. It was perfect.

Bluestreak changed position slightly, doorwings shifting in the wind, pointing to the new target.
::The dark blue one here. :: Prowl spoke in his audial, sending him a set of coordinates which was so precise he could have shot only using them.

::Love you brother. :: he murmured softly though he knew Prowl was too sucked in the flow of data to pay him any mind.

"It does not matter, does it?" he asks the mech he had already felled, a easy shot. "he's there. Hope you have someone on the other side too. Loneliness hurts more than death. I would know. "

He never stopped moving while talking. He talked to at least twenty mechs at any battle.
At least they did not complain about his chattering. Unlike some others.
Blue pushed down that bitterness coming up with such a thought.

'Can't lose focus now, huh? " he whispered to his next soon to be victim "you wouldn't want me to miss, right?"

- - -

Blue was usually tasked to kill high priority cons. One here, one there, picking them like the energon treats Prowl always brought him.
This time it was different. For one, he wasn't standing above a battlefield.
And his targets...

"Aww look at you. Altogether in one spot? ' he asked the group of small cons Prowl had singled out for him, walking through that abandoned village. Minicons, judging from size, with notable exception of a few bigger, heavily armed bots. " what did y'all do to piss off big bro? Cons should know not to piss off my big bro. "
Bluestreak pulled the trigger once, twice, quickly moving from kill to kill. Before they could run. Oh they tried, but they fell like acid raindrops, he didn't miss. He never missed.

" Well, say hello to my creators for me. " he sighed when no one moved from the group.  No survivors were left, his last shot assuring the last, barely surviving blue mech didn't get up.

"Aw you thought you could get out alive? You really don't know me. " he snorted to himself while sitting up and deassembling his rifle, without even paying real attention to it. He knew that rifle better than his own frame. Subspacing the small components, he finally stood, stretching his legs and wings.

::Prowl, I'm done. :: he said softly while starting walking away, getting down from the roof where he had been perched.

::Good job. Retreat to the rendezvous point. Your escort will get you.::

No signs of affection in the transmission were allowed.
"Idiotic rules, like cons don't know I'm his brother." he muttered softly with a sigh. He should be used to it, but really he wasn't.

As Bluestreak arrived to the small, half abandoned fraction of Polyhex where he had to meet his contact, he looked vastly different from anything he'd wear in  Iacon. His wings tucked in back pockets since he had left his post, his armor the shades of black and gray typical of Decepticons. Even his optics, he knew they didn't shine of warm blue, but of dark almost purplish red.
Sunstreaker had wanted to paint his disguise personally. The mech was ridiculous.

"At least he cares." he said quietly to himself, though he cursed himself immediately after. Frag him and his habit of speaking out loud. The few cons going back and forth glanced at him, or more accurately they glared, but seeing the violet insignia on his chassis said nothing.
The young sniper continued walking toward the place his brother had told him.
Apparently some spy was retreating himself and they'd leave enemy territory together. Bluestreak was more than happy to trust a specialist of the field to get out of there, he was not one for espionage.

The place was dark. The smell of high grade, sickly sweet, coming off the cons already there drinking. There was a quite catchy tune on background, Bluestreak had to admit. If he had his doorwings out in that moment they'd be bouncing happily following the rhythm. He sat at a stool, near the end of the counter. With a little twist, it was weird doing it without doorwings in the way, he could lean against the wall with the counter at his right.

"A cobalt flecked high grade." he said quietly to the large dark orange mech behind the counter.
No one approached him, and Prowl had reassured him it wouldn't have happened. No Decepticon liked talking to strangers. As long as he wore a sigil and didn't look like the Praxian he was they would ignore him. Good way to recognize his contact too.

A small dark ochre mech with dusty violet racer stripes that would make Sunstreaker go on a rant entered the pub. Bluestreak took a snapshot for his friend to sneer at when he returned. Ignoring the internal chiding, which surprise surprise had Prowl's voice, of "not using military specific upgrades for personal reasons", he smiled to himself. The ability to take pictures from his optic sensors was much more fun to use when he wasn't watching targets.
Though he did keep some snaps taken from his targets just before pulling the trigger.
Sideswipe said he'd be an excellent photographer, if only there wasn't war.

Lost in his internal musings, Bluestreak had not immediately noticed that the newcomer was slowly getting closer to him. But now, it was evident. The mech was proceeding not directly toward him, greeting mechs and femmes by name here and there with a cheerfulness that sounded really genuine. But he was progressively approaching, until he nonchalantly dropped on the stool next to his.

'Hi Dewclaw. " he greeted him with his false name " how did those bets in the pits go? "

Bluestreak shrugged a bit dejected.
" Lost all. I knew I shouldn't bet anymore."
It was the accorded answer, the confirmation the mission had gone as he had reported. The mech gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Aww, sorry mech. The drink then is on me, and we could go on that drive together." he said and Bluestreak smiled drinking a long sip. All this was playing as it should.
He felt safe knowing his big brother wouldn't let him get extracted by anything but the best agents the Autobots had to offer.
He'd not be surprised if he discovered Jazz himself was grinning at him from his latest disguise. Because he was just that good.
So as his companion ordered his own drink, the sniper focused on watching the others.

There were those who were probably slightly higher in the energon chain, who had taken a spot more isolated from the ones who looked like simple grunts. They played cards, credits on the table, and the others were very careful not to get too close or disturb them.
Bluestreak had seen enough officers being treated like that on the field.
Though they were left just as alone when the sniper had struck them. No one really cared about them, and once they were down, the reverence they instilled gone with their spark, they were left to rust.
It was almost funny, if he didn't know his brother would probably meet the same end one day or the other, with only his siblings caring.
Bluestreak had to keep down a shiver, focusing back on his almost finished drink. Observing wasn't as appealing anymore.

- - -

They left after a hour or so. Prowl had chosen perfectly, the mech, codename Reaper, was a shadow and led Bluestreak with practiced ease. Making up for the sniper's absolute lack of experience with this kind of stuff. He was usually taken off the field during the cleanup procedures, mere moments after his job was over. This was new.
But it didn't involve screaming or killing from a close position, so he was fine with it.
The only thing he really was having trouble with was the silence. His companion never said a word since they left the bar, as they walked through the wasteland. Focused on avoiding Decepticon patrols. Bluestreak wished he could help with his doorwings but that would make them a walking sniper target.
And he would know.
When they arrived finally to the well disguised shuttle, those Bluestreak was very familiar with, he couldn't keep a grin off his face. Reaper went to the commands, and Blue literally slumped on the seat beside him, doorwings finally pulling free and fluttering to take away the ache.
"Thanks mech." he said quietly "I had no chance without your help."

The mech didn't look at him, focused on turning on the almost silent engines, but actually chuckled at that.
"Of course baby Blue. You'd never go without me backing you up. ' he said and a blue visor slid in place over his red optics." Prowl would murder me."
Bluestreak raised an optic ridge at who he now was sure was Jazz.

" Your disguises never fail to amaze me." he snorted. "why don't you teach me?"
White and black replaced ochre and dusty violet as the more sturdy armor transformed back in the smooth curvy lines of the slim saboteur. The ship having already taken off with almost no noise.

"When you teach me to hit a target from the opposite side of the city." was the response, that made Bluestreak snort.

"who told you that? he laughed 'even I am not that good. "
That earned him a warm, honest laugh.

" Well see? You realize you are the best at something when these crazy rumors start spreading." the mech commented as they flew toward home "proud of you baby Blue."
Bluestreak felt his spark warm. He never thought he'd learn to love those praises.
Maybe he did lie.

He really liked killing.

Author's note.
This was all started from the "what if Bluestreak talks to his soon-to-be victims" thought I had.
Poor baby Blue though. I feel bad.