He lay on his belly, stretched out on the sun warmed rock. The dappled shade of a scrubby bush painted dark patches across his lower legs as he waited patiently. They would be here soon; his fine tuned audio sensors were already picking up the scrape of metal against stone and the faintest trace of their distinctive vocal patterns. He shifted, bringing the muzzle of his gun up slightly, the first movement he had made in over an hour.
The sleek black gun felt wrong in his hands, far too light for its size and calibre, and the bulky ammo clip threw out its balance entirely. But it was what he had been issued with. After the last incident, and Ratchet's ensuing fit, Prime had ordered non lethal weaponry only on training mission. Jazz had suggested these paint ball guns as an alternative to some of Wheeljack's more creative options, and knowing the inventor's track record, the lone warrior could only agree.
Today's training mission was simple. A pair of armed 'guards' escorting a 'prisoner' to the Ark had to make it past a hidden sniper. With that in mind, he had picked this spot accordingly. A clear line of sight to the path, and located just in front of a prime ambush spot. The 'guards' would be watchful inside the ambush area, but not so wary outside of it.
His thoughts were focussed outward once again as the sound of voices grew nearer. Knowing these two he would have to time this perfectly if he was to get away with his frame intact. A rare smile momentarily graced his white face as he sighted along the barrel and compensated for wind velocities and angle of fire.
Two tall figures, one red and black and the other a glimmering yellow, rounded a boulder that lay by the trail, an unhappy looking minibot walking between the them. Prowl smiled again as he squeezed the trigger. He would enjoy this…