cherry valley forever
titsay
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Today's Document
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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JBB: An Artblog!
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@imperatoria
thesoundlessvoid replied to your post “He’s sick. It’s a little virus that somehow got past his firewalls and...”
Hahaha. He hopes it lasts ten thousand years.
And what’s crawled up your tailpipe today?
He hopes it’s cosmic rust.
He’s sick. It’s a little virus that somehow got past his firewalls and now lingers inside his system like a crouching insect that dodges all attempts to dislodge it. Thanks to its efforts, Prowl is thoroughly miserable.
It’s not life-threatening. In between the tank-churning and the engine-sputtering, he almost wishes that it is.
autobot-scout-riella commented on autobot-scout-riella's post “A summons to talk to an authority figure was never a good sign. She...”
imperatoria: “I–I mean, they don’t have the same reasons, it’s not about Altihex for them, but–” She’d never put much thought into why they were all there. After all, what other reasons were there? It wasn’t if anyone enjoyed war for its own sake.
…Well, anyone in the Autobots, at least. Decepticons were a different matter.
“They–well, they don’t want to see more cities destroyed, or more people slaughtered like that. So–yes, probably. It’s the same idea. Stop more awful things from happening. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Prowl was here because the Decepticons took over the anti-air missiles in time to shoot down the Peaceful Resolution and, consequently, shoot down his peaceful resolution.
“You could say that,” he said, always vague with his answers. “This has been an enlightening little conversation, soldier. Thank you. If I need to talk to you again, I will find you. Until then... keep holding on. Have faith, as Optimus would say.”
Prowl didn’t think that Riella was a crack in the structure - or that her squad would be one either. She and her kind were of a reassuring kind of personality, the sorts who retreated into idealism when things got tough. How long that would last, Prowl could not say. Hopefully, long enough. Let this war run hot and fast.
“You’re dismissed,” he said, looking back down. “You may go. When you do, please ask your squad commander to report in. Gamma Ray, was it?”
imperatoria:
“Did you know that I am from Praxus?” Ptowl asked her in return, his voice faintly acidic. “And do you know what happened to Praxus?”
He thought he remembered what happened to Althiex, but a second check confirmed it. Altihex - destroyed by repurposed dilithium warheads. One of the very first geographical casualties of the war. Its waters had been beautiful once. Prowl had never had the privilege to see them in person, but he had seen pictures. Then, pictures of what became of it.
“It was all melted,” he answered for her. “A whole city turned to slag in under a day. You will find that destroyed cities are getting more and more common. But I don’t think you’ve answered my original question - not adequately, at any rate.” He leaned forward. Glared. “Why did you join? Because of Altihex?”
“Praxus was…leveled.” Riella didn’t feel like reciting the details. It brought up too many vivid images. “It was targeted early in the war. I didn’t know you were from there.”
That was an unfortunate gap in her knowledge of the mechs she worked with. She would need to fix that, once she had some time to do some research. Anything could be important, and she should have at least known where Prowl was from.
What kind of question was that? “Of–of course it was because of Altihex. Because I don’t want to see it happen to anywhere else. Isn’t that why most Autobots are here? Sir?”
She was so fresh off the forge you could still smell the sentio on her. Prowl gave her a small, cold, mirthless smile and said, "That's a very noble goal you have in mind. What of your unit? Do you think they share similar sentiments?"
Had he ever been so optimistic? Surely there'd been a point in his life where the world still possessed some glamour for him. But enforcers couldn't be naive, could they?
imperatoria:
He did.
“No,” Prowl said. “Walk me through it, please.”
On his datapad, he opened a new folder. Altihex.
“You don’t know?”
Didn’t everyone know about Altihex? Leveling an entire city wasn’t exactly something that could fly under the radar. Maybe a random frontliner could have missed it, but an officer?
“They–they bombed it. The Decepticons destroyed it. How do you not know that?”
"Did you know that I am from Praxus?" Ptowl asked her in return, his voice faintly acidic. "And do you know what happened to Praxus?"
He thought he remembered what happened to Althiex, but a second check confirmed it. Altihex - destroyed by repurposed dilithium warheads. One of the very first geographical casualties of the war. Its waters had been beautiful once. Prowl had never had the privilege to see them in person, but he had seen pictures. Then, pictures of what became of it.
"It was all melted," he answered for her. "A whole city turned to slag in under a day. You will find that destroyed cities are getting more and more common. But I don't think you've answered my original question - not adequately, at any rate." He leaned forward. Glared. "Why did you join? Because of Altihex?"
Jailbird
starter for @silverwheeleddecepticon
-
His first breath of air that wasn’t recycled a dozen times through stale filters was, unfortunately, on the surface of Caminus. The enforcers who escorted him around loitered by the entrance of the Prime Rehabilitation Center, watching him. He paid them no regard as he looked around the city.
It was alive. Prowl couldn’t remember the last time he was actually in a metropolis without thinking about how to destroy it. It was a change, though he did not know if it was welcome or not. The people looked a little different, sure, but they were Cybertronians, past the veil of history and isolation.
He took an step forward and then lurched to a stop when the gestalt link, long silenced by his prison sentence, surged into wild, chaotic life. Nausea coursed through him as a riotous explosion of voices stampeded through his head.
Shut up, he snarled. When people in the street gave him odd looks, he realized he said that out loud.
Where are you? he asked, this time firmly in the realm of his own mind.
Here, here, here- We waited for you- we wanted to break in and get you- Mixmaster’s, Scavenger’s, and Bonecrusher’s thoughts arrived, all together, and even overlapping slightly.
Long Haul belatedly added his own assurances, and Hook a ping of possible maintenance issues that he was positively itching to check Prowl for.
Over here, we knew you were getting out today, the next thought came from the five mostly collectively, and then the glimpse of sturdy, green and purple plating was glimpsed through the crowds, coming toward Prowl.
He would’ve liked to turn around and abandon them, but knowing his current streak of luck, any trouble they caused would fall on his head too. Prowl pushed through the crowd until he reached them, but he stopped their eager hands with an imperious finger in their direction.
“Not here,” he hissed. “Who even let you into this city?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Prowl pushed past them, away from the prison, aiming to get away before they attracted even more attention. Camiens were wary of combiners these days. He walked on, trying to wrestle thr link into submission as he did, and was forced to concede when they only came back stronger, like the high tide.
What news is there? he asked as he finally found an alleyway without foot traffic.
“We wanted to see you! We waited forever!” Scavenger burst out, all wiggles and veritable glee, all five Constructicons pressing closer, mentally and physically, delight at having their leader, their Boss, back, and in reach, fields and through the bond flaring both with glee-excitement-want.
“…News? What news? From where?” That was Bonecrusher, jostling Hook out of the way, ignoring the other’s engine rev of annoyance to press closer in his place.
“Five and one is six again!” was Mixmaster’s excited contribution, and Long Haul nodded, sagely. “…We been more focused on waitin’ for you, P- ….Boss.”
"News from Cybertron, you dolts," Prowl snapped. He backed away from them, his eyes glued to the way they easily pushed and pulled into each other like pieces in a puzzle. He was meant to fit somewhere in that - the thought made his spark shiver.
"Don't touch me," he warned when someone's hand grew too close for his liking. He took another step back, his doors hiked up high, as tense as a cat on a hot tin roof. "Stay there, or I will leave all of you here."
imperatoria:
“You assume correctly. As you may well know, we have plenty of volunteers joining everyday. Sometimes, we ask why.”
Prowl tilted his head to one side, still watching her. She didn’t seem nervous- proof of innocence, or the tell of a practiced liar?
“Why are you here, Riella?”
…That wasn’t at all what she’d expected he would want to discuss.
Why are you here. Such a simple question, with such a complicated answer.
Didn’t he know? Didn’t everyone know? Surely she wasn’t the only one to join up after a disaster because she wanted to prevent it from happening again. Why even bother asking?
“You…know what happened to Altihex, right?”
He did.
"No," Prowl said. "Walk me through it, please."
On his datapad, he opened a new folder. Altihex.
imperatoria:
Her stated information didn’t deviate from the record. Prowl was pleased. More than one soldier decided that this new world order symbolized an opportunity to shed their past - a notion he thoroughly disabused them of. He set down his datapad, curled his fingers together, and gave her a level look.
Unremarkable, as far as models went.
“Do you know the reason for why I called you here today?” he asked, his tone neutral.
Well, she could think of a reason, or two, or three, but one of the most important things Melody had taught her about interrogations was that it was never a good idea to fill in the blanks in open-ended questions. She might as well practice on Prowl. If he didn’t already know, then she didn’t need to confirm anything for him.
“No, I don’t.” That was even completely true. “Why? I assume there’s something you want to discuss?”
"You assume correctly. As you may well know, we have plenty of volunteers joining everyday. Sometimes, we ask why."
Prowl tilted his head to one side, still watching her. She didn't seem nervous- proof of innocence, or the tell of a practiced liar?
"Why are you here, Riella?"
Jailbird
starter for @silverwheeleddecepticon
-
His first breath of air that wasn’t recycled a dozen times through stale filters was, unfortunately, on the surface of Caminus. The enforcers who escorted him around loitered by the entrance of the Prime Rehabilitation Center, watching him. He paid them no regard as he looked around the city.
It was alive. Prowl couldn’t remember the last time he was actually in a metropolis without thinking about how to destroy it. It was a change, though he did not know if it was welcome or not. The people looked a little different, sure, but they were Cybertronians, past the veil of history and isolation.
He took an step forward and then lurched to a stop when the gestalt link, long silenced by his prison sentence, surged into wild, chaotic life. Nausea coursed through him as a riotous explosion of voices stampeded through his head.
Shut up, he snarled. When people in the street gave him odd looks, he realized he said that out loud.
Where are you? he asked, this time firmly in the realm of his own mind.
Here, here, here- We waited for you- we wanted to break in and get you- Mixmaster’s, Scavenger’s, and Bonecrusher’s thoughts arrived, all together, and even overlapping slightly.
Long Haul belatedly added his own assurances, and Hook a ping of possible maintenance issues that he was positively itching to check Prowl for.
Over here, we knew you were getting out today, the next thought came from the five mostly collectively, and then the glimpse of sturdy, green and purple plating was glimpsed through the crowds, coming toward Prowl.
He would've liked to turn around and abandon them, but knowing his current streak of luck, any trouble they caused would fall on his head too. Prowl pushed through the crowd until he reached them, but he stopped their eager hands with an imperious finger in their direction.
"Not here," he hissed. "Who even let you into this city?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Prowl pushed past them, away from the prison, aiming to get away before they attracted even more attention. Camiens were wary of combiners these days. He walked on, trying to wrestle thr link into submission as he did, and was forced to concede when they only came back stronger, like the high tide.
What news is there? he asked as he finally found an alleyway without foot traffic.
imperatoria:
Prowl had never envisioned himself achieving a status higher than a detective with the enforcers. Maybe, he could have shot for enforcer captain. Now, that life seemed as distant as the stars. He had more than a mere district under his care - he had an army. A growing one.
Optimus might handle the big speeches and big ideas, but Prowl’s domain was numbers. Had always been. Right now, those numbers kept shooting up at alarming rates. Casualty rates. Enemy numbers. Recruits. And despite what the recruitment pitch said, he could hardly pick up every functioning chassis on the street and expect things to run smoothly. Those numbers needed names and figures. Faces. So Prowl intended to do what he did best.
He was going to investigate.
So far, he’d met more people in one cycle than he did in years. Many of them were unfamiliar, their functions foreign. With each one, he was learning. Sometimes, you couldn’t just meet the figurehead and expect to understand the situation. You had to find the little ones behind them, the ones who pounded pavement and ran cubes between offices. Thry tended to know things beyond what their superiors expected. All this needed to be done discreetly - if people had warning, they could prepare. Prowl didn’t want the recycled data. He wanted the truth.
Today’s interviewee was a simple footsoldier, the kind that no one noticed. The ideal target.
“Designation,” he drawled, not looking up. “Rank. Unit. Commanding officer.”
Had Riella known Prowl’s opinion of her, she would have protested–loudly. She might be small and low-ranking, but that wasn’t going to stop her from taking the fight to the enemy. She was going to help end the war and save the world! What could be unnoticeable about that?
Of course, she had no idea what might be going through his processor, and when it came to officers, it was always best to assume she was about to be scolded for something and act accordingly. Politeness and an expression that conveyed who, me? I didn’t do anything usually went a long way.
Prowl, in particular, was unreadable. It was impossible to guess what he wanted, why he wanted it, or his opinion of it just from looking at him.
“Riella. Scout. Unit A-two-one-seven, commanding officer Gamma Ray,” she rattled off brightly. “Reporting. Sir.”
Her stated information didn't deviate from the record. Prowl was pleased. More than one soldier decided that this new world order symbolized an opportunity to shed their past - a notion he thoroughly disabused them of. He set down his datapad, curled his fingers together, and gave her a level look.
Unremarkable, as far as models went.
"Do you know the reason for why I called you here today?" he asked, his tone neutral.
Jailbird
starter for @silverwheeleddecepticon
-
His first breath of air that wasn't recycled a dozen times through stale filters was, unfortunately, on the surface of Caminus. The enforcers who escorted him around loitered by the entrance of the Prime Rehabilitation Center, watching him. He paid them no regard as he looked around the city.
It was alive. Prowl couldn't remember the last time he was actually in a metropolis without thinking about how to destroy it. It was a change, though he did not know if it was welcome or not. The people looked a little different, sure, but they were Cybertronians, past the veil of history and isolation.
He took an step forward and then lurched to a stop when the gestalt link, long silenced by his prison sentence, surged into wild, chaotic life. Nausea coursed through him as a riotous explosion of voices stampeded through his head.
Shut up, he snarled. When people in the street gave him odd looks, he realized he said that out loud.
Where are you? he asked, this time firmly in the realm of his own mind.
A summons to talk to an authority figure was never a good sign. She rarely heard from anyone higher-up than Gamma Ray–when the officers wanted scouts, they usually sent for the whole unit.
At least it wasn’t a formal order to report to Command immediately, but it still had the usual undertone of someone’s in trouble. It was one thing Autobot officers and her former caretakers had in common.
“You wanted to see me?”
@imperatoria
Prowl had never envisioned himself achieving a status higher than a detective with the enforcers. Maybe, he could have shot for enforcer captain. Now, that life seemed as distant as the stars. He had more than a mere district under his care - he had an army. A growing one.
Optimus might handle the big speeches and big ideas, but Prowl's domain was numbers. Had always been. Right now, those numbers kept shooting up at alarming rates. Casualty rates. Enemy numbers. Recruits. And despite what the recruitment pitch said, he could hardly pick up every functioning chassis on the street and expect things to run smoothly. Those numbers needed names and figures. Faces. So Prowl intended to do what he did best.
He was going to investigate.
So far, he'd met more people in one cycle than he did in years. Many of them were unfamiliar, their functions foreign. With each one, he was learning. Sometimes, you couldn't just meet the figurehead and expect to understand the situation. You had to find the little ones behind them, the ones who pounded pavement and ran cubes between offices. Thry tended to know things beyond what their superiors expected. All this needed to be done discreetly - if people had warning, they could prepare. Prowl didn't want the recycled data. He wanted the truth.
Today's interviewee was a simple footsoldier, the kind that no one noticed. The ideal target.
"Designation," he drawled, not looking up. "Rank. Unit. Commanding officer."
A cruel mouth.
In MTMTE, Swerve added this in his description of Prowl for Skids. And that set my mind on fire.
A cruel mouth. A cruel mouth. We all know Prowl has a certain way with words - just on the right side of blunt, offensive, and harsh enough that while it’s not a direct insult, he hits you right in the soft jellied insides to make it hurt. It’s partially to make people stay away and partially because Prowl rarely bothers to hold back his nastier side when it’s not pivotal.
A cruel mouth. A mouth that’s not used to smiling - unless it’s over success. For Prowl, success usually means someone else’s day has been ruined (perhaps permanently). A mouth that hides gritted teeth behind it, setting his jaw forward just a bit, and hardening out the lines of his face. A mouth that scowls better than it smiles, and holds a perpetual tilt that needs only a little push to become a sneer.
autobot-scout-riella:
“You didn’t know he existed before I met him.” Riella mirrored his pose and stared right back, unimpressed with both the posturing and the threat. In the grand scheme of things, Prowl wasn’t exactly terrifying.
“And you know that if you ever try to have him killed, I’m going to kill you, right? Just something to consider.”
Prowl rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, you love him and you are ready to fight to the death for his sake - I’ve heard it a hundred times from a hundred mouths.”
If only Blackout remained a non-entity in Prowl’s life. Things might have been much simpler and happier then.
“You’re not going ‘con for his sake, are you?”
autobot-scout-riella:
“To a degree, yes. I know who he is, I know what I am to him, and I still know how I feel. You still got a problem with that?”
Of course he did. Prowl never did like it when she got attached to someone else. The Decepticon factor just added in an extra layer of dislike (along with some admittedly legitimate concerns), but she couldn’t do anything about that.
“The only way we’re going to agree to disagree is if you stop threatening him. Which you’re not going to.”
“Of course I do. And you’re right.”
Blackout would have passed under Prowl’s radar if he hadn’t gone and tried to steal his friend away from him. Now, he was firmly planted under the ‘enemy’ label. Prowl crossed his arms.
“I should have killed him before you ever met him.”
thesoundlessvoid:
How about you and I settle this? I bestedTarn in January. You’d be easy.
Jumping straight to aggression? How typically Decepticon of you.
thesoundlessvoid
WHO THE FUCK YOU CALLING A DOG YOU SON OF A BITCH
You. I was calling you a dog.
