Crunching Stat After Stat

An Indie IDW/G1 Prowl blog

[chanyuqianxin]

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Soo.

“Soo?”

[witowikki-deactivated20180420]

An Autobot of few words. So, what’s your name?

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My designation is Prowl. Is there a reason you’re contacting me?

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Soo.

“Soo?”

[witowikki-deactivated20180420]

Soo, you’re an Autobot?

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Correct. 

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Soo.

“Soo?”

[monsterbots]

Reminder that Jazz is a canon Madonna fan

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residentredlambo:

Giving his Second in Command a flat, bored look– he doesn’t even bother trying to hide his disinterest here– Sideswipe knew the other mech would pick up on just how much he wanted to be here. Here in the room where he frequented far too often for reasons ranging from pranks, to missions, to even his own punishment sentencing. Sideswipe has almost quite literally, been through it all.

That said, he should’ve known that Prowl would come back at him with that question. He should’ve known that he’d take it seriously. It was one of the many reasons why Sideswipe said certain things far too often to play with Prowl’s almost inability to take things not seriously. The red menace got a real kick out of it too, “You could keep them in Gears’ quarters. The mech’s been needing a new stepping stool.”

Sideswipe’s downturned lips suddenly shot right up into a truly devious smirk that only he could properly create. What’s the chance of him distracting Prowl from the real reason why he’s here? Slim to none, but that doesn’t mean he won’t damn well try.

Prowl knew he was setting himself up for a foolish comment from Sideswipe when he asked that question. Though the chances of the frontliner responding seriously had been low, Prowl still held out for that small percentage. Some would call his actions with Sideswipe wishful thinking but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. It was as he constantly told his subordinates, “consider every possibility, no matter how small.” Percentages didn’t lie. Logic and numbers he could readily trust. Mecha though, no matter how well he may have been able to read them, there was always that small unforeseen variable they carried within them. 

Their background, their actions, their reasoning, all factors that helped him to see the potential a mech had to do not only great but terrifying things as well. Yet his calculations could never fully measure the depth of that potential. Nor could he accurately see in which route that mech would go once they fully realized their own potential. Prowl could only do his part to steer them in a direction that was beneficial for the Autobots. If you asked him, despite the title of second in command, he didn’t feel like he had the power nor the control others said he had over them.

The thought may have been unsettling to someone else in his role but for Prowl, it was perhaps one of the main aspects of his job that provided him with a true challenge. A challenge he was more than willing to take on.

“I would need far more handbooks if that was the case, Sideswipe.” Prowl replied dryly. It may have came off as a dig against the minibot but Prowl genuinely believed he’d need more of the regulations handbook to provide Gears with a suitable stepping stool. “And in any case, it wouldn’t aid me in any way to store them outside of my office.” 

Leaning over some, he slid the book towards Sideswipe, “Go to the index, look for the section that says “Appropriate Autobot Behavior”, turn to the page number listed, and read the first paragraph for me.” 

[maruta365]

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sexwithsniperrifles:

“Yep! I’ve been making treats for a bit now. It’s something I can do, and give them to mecha to make them happy, you know?”  He wasn’t going to say how he made them, given the fact that there was a rather illegal makeshift oven in his Arkbound quarters, but that wasn’t the point.

He nodded, sensory panels held high and perked at attention. Grinning at Prowl and beckoning him with a twist of digits. “Okay! At least my room is quieter, yeah? And if you’d like, I have some soft music we can put on. It’s human classical, but it’s soothing and definitely nicer then some of the stuff Jazz and Blaster play in the rec room. Not that I don’t like some of it, and they seem like they’re having fun, but some of it just hurts my panels, especially when they play it so loudly.”

Though his chatter he made it to the room and put in his code,  inviting Prowl into the small personal quarters he was lucky enough not to share.

Well, lucky in some ways.

The berth was the only real place to sit, but it was padded with organic blankets over the temperature regulating mesh and he collected two of his stocked cubes of Energon as well as a small tin of treats before settling on the berth and offering a cube to Prowl. “Have you been doing okay?”

Prowl nodded at Bluestreak’s statement despite not truly sharing nor relating to the sentiment expressed through it. That wasn’t to say that the older Praxian didn’t care about keeping a select few mecha happy; he wouldn’t be following Bluestreak back to the chatty bot’s room if he didn’t. Prowl just was, and always had been, a mech sparked for and dedicated to his duty. As an enforcer, keeping order and peace was his main priority; not once had he considered whether or not his actions or the laws he was upholding were bringing joy to others. 

To serve and protect, it was a simple enough motto. As long as he fulfilled his purpose, as long as he remained a part of the system that helped keep Cybertron balanced, he had assumed such matters as happiness would fall into place. It was their war along with other key incidents had his processor looking deeper into what he had once considered trivial concerns. The transition from enforcer to Autobot second in command while strengthening his ideals of order and peace had made him more accepting of the notion that not all rules were beneficial. 

It’s because of that Prowl doesn’t immediately question where Bluestreak has obtained his ingredients or what appliance he’s using to make them. As long as it didn’t raise any safety issues and most importantly it appeared to give the sniper an outlet that made him happy, the tactician wouldn’t ask or pry further into it. 

Besides, keeping the younger mech safe proved to be a little easier for Prowl than keeping him happy. 

“I’m fine with whatever you play, Bluestreak. I know I don’t have to warn you about the volume level.” He lacked any strong opinions on human music as he had never been one to listen to any music in his spare time. He did however have a problem with Blaster, Jazz, and a few other Autobots who enjoyed cranking up their music as what seemed to be as loud as they could possibly get it. He shared Bluestreak’s feelings about the high volume irritating his sensor panels. That along with how hard it could make it for Prowl to focus on his work may have had the tactician sounding a bit harsher when he was reprimanding them for it.

Stepping inside of Bluestreak’s room, he took a seat on one end of the sniper’s berth before accepting the cube offered to him. “I’ve been busy, as usual, but well, thank you. As for you? Has everything been alright?”

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residentredlambo:

Blue optics landed on the datapads his superior was going over and he cringed, heading towards a vacant seat to take. He can’t believe he’s really here and about to go over codes… Primus save him from this torture. What did he ever do to deserve this? 

Ex-venting with a little huff, the frontliner propped his right arm on top of Prowl’s desk and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. “Don’t tell me you keep a stack of those in your desk,” he said, referring to the handbook.

Setting the handbook on his desk, Prowl’s optics scanned over the younger mech’s faceplates. Sideswipe’s disbelief about this current meeting was clear through the brash warrior’s expression and frame language. The frontliner didn’t have to verbally ask it for Prowl to hear the question directed at him numerous times in the past.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

While the other two Praxians aboard the Ark were known for saying things of a humorous matter, Smokescreen with his sarcastic retorts and Bluestreak with his good-natured puns, Prowl was not. If a statement left his mouth, it was safe to assume that he was not joking around. Why the other Autobots constantly felt the need to ask him whether or not he was speaking seriously was a question he had yet to find the answer for.

Surely, based on past interactions with him, his fellow soldiers would be able to simply calculate just how low of a possibility it would be for him to be “kidding around”. Prowl wasn’t expecting accuracy with their estimates but it should have been in the right range.

“And where else would you suggest I keep them, Sideswipe?” 

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Prowl, sweetspark, my longtime colleague and precious friend, where are you? I'd like to speak with you.

:: Whatever you feel the need to discuss with me, I’m certain, does not require for us to meet face to face, Smokescreen.

You are welcomed to speak with me through our communication lines. ::

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smoketactics:

The therapist moved at a brisk pace towards Prowl’s office. Optics flickering over to familiar faces as he walked through the halls of the Autobot Iaconian base, Smokey nodded and gave the occasional non-committal grunt to those questioning his return to Cybertron.

:: That’s the name, sweetspark. ::

Ironically, the last time he sent Prowl a comm., overcharged and quickly going from being an obnoxious aft to a bitter shell of a mech without warning, hadn’t he bought up the whole fake designation thing? If Smokescreen had been in a different mindset or hell could remember that whole conversation clearly, he might have chose a different retort. 

Upon arriving at his fellow Praxian’s office, Smokescreen skipped knocking on the door and let himself in. With a slight frown on his faceplates, he made his way over to the other mech.

“There something you want to get off your mind, Big Mech? ‘Cause I may be retired but I’m obviously always all audios for you.”

Fingers pausing in their typing at the sound of his door suddenly opening, Prowl’s optics flickered over towards the other mech now standing in his line of vision. His expression remained neutral despite the look directed towards him. Whatever had the gambler in a negative mood, whether he was somehow the cause of it or not, Prowl was sure he’d be receiving an audio full.

This interaction with Smokescreen would set him back some on the progress he had been making. That thought alone had the enforcer’s lips turning down into a frown. The psychologist would have to save the games for another time.

“You sought me out, Smokescreen. Make it quick.”

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residentredlambo:

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The door’s unlocked for you.

He pauses outside the door– debating briefly whether or not to make a run for it– before opening it and stepping inside. “I’m here Sir.”

Prowl looked up from his stack of datapads when the door opened. “Greetings, Sideswipe.” Not intending to keep the frontliner here longer than he needed to be, the tactician set aside the report he had been currently looking over before opening one of his desk’s drawers to pull out an Autobot code handbook.

“Have a seat.”

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groovysaboteur:

Jazz was still tossing more and more popcorn into the air when he noticed a little movement beside him and a soft noise. He looked to the side with his usual grin, which slowly faded away as he watched Prowl… vacuuming discarded popcorn.

“Oh, c’mon!” He huffed, setting the bowl aside. “Can’t you just go 30 minutes without doin’ some kinda work?” Jazz gestured to the humming vacuum, oblivious to the mess he had made. “Why don’tcha just sit back and watch the show like I asked? That ain’t hard, man.”

Even thought the tactician was actually doing Jazz a favor, the saboteur still saw it as a result of Prowl’s workaholic attitude rather than a result of his own actions. 

Prowl didn’t immediately respond to the spec-ops mech’s complaints. Instead, the soft whirring noise of his miniature vacuum continued on as he moved the device to gently suck up the bits of popcorn that spilled out the moment Jazz had set the bowl aside. 

Perhaps if the Praxian had been someone much more eager to please then he would have set the item away once Jazz began to express his disapproval. But as Prowl was, a mech who couldn’t leave things half finished, he focused on the task at hand; cleaning up the mess made by the more social of the two mechs seated on this couch. Leaning over slightly, he ran the vacuum over one of Jazz’s legs before turning the appliance off and settling back into his spot.

With that settled, he began to redirect his attention to what the saboteur was asking of him. “I was having no problems watching until your game affected my space and frame.”

[askfirstaid]

“Have you fallen asleep on me?”

“A lil bit, sir” Aid mumbled, not moving from his comfortable spot sprawled over the SIC’s lap.

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Prowl quirked an optic ridge at the young medic currently making himself comfortable in his lap. “Have you not been recharging properly, First Aid?”

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::Oi! Gotta question fer ya.::

:: Yes, Ironhide? ::

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gonnaironyourhide:

::Considerin’ s’bout m’possible ta find more n’three o’ ‘em at a time these orns…::

::Ah’ver perty much got the bag n’this thin’.::

:: All officers stationed on the Ark are required to vote for any amendments made to the rules here. Your request, if approved by the majority, can not go into action until each and every officer has had the chance to review and choose to either approve or disapprove. ::

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residentredlambo:

I’m comin’… 

The door’s unlocked for you.

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sexwithsniperrifles:

“Rec room or my room?” He pulled back fully and shook out his plating, humming something soft under his vents. “I mean, just that it might be busy right now in the rec room?”  That, and too much commotion always put his sensors on edge. Especially if he wasn’t drinking high grade, and with Prowl next to him that was a very assured negative.

“I have some glossballs if you’d like to try them, too. Made a new batch, very light and just a little sweet.”

Prowl couldn’t fully recall the last time when he actually chose to refuel in the recreational room. That particular area of the Ark never failed to give the tactician a processor ache from the noise and general non sense that often occurred once you put numerous conflicting personalities into one space. The last few instances he could remember stepping into the spacious room was to find a troublemaker or two who had to decided to hide from him instead heading straight to his office as ordered.

Bluestreak’s room was the better option of the two. “Your room would be preferable, Bluestreak” Although Prowl could have just as easily chose to just head back to his own room since he did keep spare cubes there; as socially inept as he could be, it didn’t take any calculations to understand that the young gunner was inviting him over to spend some time together.

“I wasn’t aware you had taken to preparing treats.” The older Praxian had never been particularly fond of sweets but he would more than likely try one of those glossballs for Bluestreak. 

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::Oi! Gotta question fer ya.::

:: Yes, Ironhide? ::

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gonnaironyourhide:

::Feh, Ah’ve got more ‘an four n’one knee.::

::… So yer sayin’…. If Ah stop by yer office…. Ah can carry more guns?::

:: I’m saying that yes, there is a possibility for it. Your request needs to be reviewed and voted yes on by a majority of the Ark’s officers. ::