How would Prowl, Wing and Drift react to information about the real killer Yoketron?
I can’t go into much detail on that, since it’ll be relevant in a later installment. But, I can give you a brief version of it.
Prowl won’t be happy. He spent thousands of years paying for a crime he didn’t commit. He went into Trypticon a teenager, and and he left he was an young adult/a teen verging in adulthood. That isn’t a significant period of his lifespan, that’s true, but even for a species as long lived as Cybertronians, a thousand years is a long time. Especially with the way their memory works. And he was there for several thousand years. It left a serious mark on him. So when he learns who really committed the crime he was blamed for…it won’t put him in a very good place, mentally or psychologically.
Wing is going to be a little less complicated. He knew Yoketron, and since Lockdown was one of Yoketron’s earlier students, he also met him once or twice when his Amica brought him off Cybertron. (Because remember, in this AU, Wing and Yoketron were Amica Endurae). So he knew Lockdown. He’d met him. He remembered him. It’s not as personal as it is for Prowl, but he still feels a sense of betrayal. And duty, but I can’t go into much more detail than that without adding too much spoiler-y content.
As for Drift…well, he’s also a little complicated. For this AU, I’m borrowing a little from his typical backstory, by which I mean I’m saying he used to be a Decepticon. And had a brief stint as a bounty hunter. He knew Lockdown very well. Even worked with him several times. At one time, he called Lockdown a friend. When he learns what his old friend did to his adopted baby brother…he feels very guilty about it. His emotions on the matter are complicated, really.
I think that’s as much as I can say without giving away too much of future content, though. Anyway, hope that answered it at least a little!
do you think Wing more or less goes on a rant about how many buckles Deadlock's got is a liability but very much does think it's a sort of cool aesthetic even tho he's probably being a little edgy about it?
oh they’re absolutely a liability and Wing, always being the reliable one to always tell you how it rly is, let’s him have it! aesthetics be damned his whole get up could do with some adjustments! Firstly, away with the guns, he KNOWS you’re overcompensating for being so shit at anything other than shooting and blowing things up. practical and simple is in, get w the program we are TRAINING!!
But don’t worry, Deadlock Drift shows his retaliation in shredding the sleeves off his dojo uniform. Wing gets to have his pupil alright, Drift and his edgy aesthetics/knack for destruction are a 2-1 deal. Lots of work cut out for Wing 😤💪✨
Primus had it out for him, it seemed. Prowl must have done something truly terrible in a past life to deserve everything that had happened to him in this one. Pits, he wasn’t even considered an adult by Cybertronian standards. He was no longer a youngling, that much was true. He had aged out of that descriptor in Trypticon. He was, however, what most bots would consider a mechling. Not quite underage anymore, but still not yet a fully fledged adult. Had he still been on Cybertron and a free mech, he would be legally old enough to work but not yet old enough to consume engex. In some city-states, he would not even be old enough to consume high-grade, which was considerably weaker and not as intoxicating as engex.
All that was to say, was that he had experienced a significant degree of pain, suffering, and general bad luck for a bot was was still so young by his species standards. Sometimes, Prowl couldn’t help but question why. He had been happy, when he’d been training under Master Yoketron. His life before the Dojo had been hard, and much of it had been spent in the Praxian Youth Center, and then he’d escaped and lived as a street rat. It had been difficult, but at least he’d not been forced into any sort of role or job; at least he had been free. Then he’d been taken in by Yoketron, and everything had looked up. But even that hadn’t lasted, and he’d lost the last of his youth to Trypticon and the wardens who had so despised him.
And then, not even a full deca-cycle since he had been freed from his prison and escaped Cybertron, he had been discovered on what he hoped would be a refuge by Neutral Cybertronians. Not just any Neutrals, either. A cyber-ninja master and his student, of all things. Prowl knew that here could be multiple cyber-ninja masters at one time, though there was only ever one Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps at a time. What caused him so much distress with this new revelation was that he distinctly remembered Master Yoketron telling him that none of his students, graduated or otherwise, had yet reached the necessary skill level to be called a cyber-ninja master. Which meant either the strange bot, Wing, was either lying, or he wasn’t one of Master Yoketron’s students. But if he wasn’t one of his Master’s former students, Prowl couldn’t think of where else he could have come from.
Unless…?
Wing looked young. Much younger than Master Yoketron had. But…he knew it was possible for mechs who were millions upon millions of stellar cycles old to look like they’d only just been freshly upgraded to their final frames. So was is possible that Wing was Master Yoketron’s age, or perhaps older? It was all he could think of. It would also explain how Wing could be a jet, yet not be a Decepticon.
Prowl shook his head roughly to clear his processor of the spiraling train of thought, immediately regretting the action when it caused his processor to shriek in agonized protest. He winced, pressing his hand to his forehelm, his thumb brushing over his broken chevron. After a klik, he lowered his head and dropped his shoulders. He had to put that aside. It didn’t matter anymore, anyway. He had left Wing and Drift behind at the cliff where they’d found him. He refused to take any chances with Cybertronians. Unfortunately, now that he knew they were here, he had to get off this planet. He had enough shanix to buy himself another trip on a cargo ship. He didn’t care where it took him, he just needed to get away.
He forced his processor back on track. Prowl was in the cave now, and he had gotten away from the odd pair, so he would be safe. It had been a few couple solar cycles since he’d encountered them. He would need to go out for energon, soon. But he was fairly sure that as long as he was careful, he wouldn’t be found. First though, he needed rest. He was exhausted, and he wouldn’t be able to track down fuel if he was too tired to function. So, he curled up in the back corner of the cave, facing the entrance, and let his optics slip shut. He would worry about fuel – and the two cyber-ninjas – later.
As he slipped into recharge, his processor replayed his encounter with Wing and Drift, and for once he blessedly wasn’t plagued by nightmares in the form of memories.
——————————
“Ah, but how rude of me! I should introduce myself and my companion before I ask so many questions!” The jet gave him another warm grin, gesturing first at himself, then at the racer beside him. “I’m a cyber-ninja master. My name is Wing, and this is my student, Drift.”
Prowl froze, his optics going wide behind his visor. “…what?” he whispered, voice hoarse.
Wing’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Are you okay, little one?” He asked.
Prowl flinched back from the hand that reached for him. “I’m fine.” he said roughly. “But what did you say?” He had to have misheard.
Wing shared a worried look with Drift. Then he looked back at the frightened mechling. “My name is Wing. I’m a cyber-ninja master.” he nodded at the racer beside him. “This is my student. Drift.”
Prowl reset his vocalizer, spark pulsing frantically. So he hadn’t misheard. But how was that possible? He had thought Master Yoketron was the only surviving cyber-ninja master. But this Wing claimed to be one as well? It didn’t make sense. He was a jet, a flyer. Weren’t most flyers Decepticons? Yet, Prowl saw no faction markings on the mechs in front of him.
“And you, little one?”
“What?” Prowl was jerked out of his panic by the older mech’s voice.
“Your name?” Wing asked, tone gentle.
“…Prowl.”
“Well met, Prowl.” Wing greeted, his expression warm.
“Well met.” Drift offered up, dipping his helm in a friendly nod.
Prowl hesitated, then ducked his own helm quickly. “Well met, Wing. Well met, Drift.” he said in return. He paused for another moment, but then he had to ask. “You…you are truly a cyber-ninja master? Like Master Yoketron was?”
Wing’s optics lit up. “Indeed!” he said brightly. His grin widened. “You know Yoketron, then? It’s been a long time since I saw him last.” he mused.
Prowl flinched. “Master Yoketron-“ his vocalizer cut off into static, and he had to reset it before he could finish. “Master Yoketron has joined the Well of All Sparks. He was offlined many mega-cycles ago.” he said haltingly.
At that, Wing visibly saddened, his wings dipping with his drop in mood. Drift lifted a hand to his Master’s shoulder, his field pulsing a beat of comfort.
“I know.” the jet said softly. “We may not be affiliated with any Cybertronian faction, nor have we returned to Cybertron for many mega-cycles, but I did hear about Yoketron’s fate. Every Cybertronian, both those on planet and those not, know he was offlined. The loss of the Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps is a grave blow.” he murmured.
Prowl swallowed. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know why he was apologizing. It wasn’t his fault. He supposed he had gotten used to apologizing to bots who were angry or upset with him, even when he had done nothing wrong. It had often been the only way to avoid the ire of the guards at Trypticon, though it didn’t always work.
“You have nothing to apologize for, it was not your fault.” Wing said, sounding confused.
Prowl winced, wanting to change the topic. “You said you have no affiliation to any Cybertronian faction. You are Neutrals, then?” he said suddenly.
Both mechs looked at each other, clearly catching on to the very unsubtle attempt to shift the conversation. Blessedly, neither said anything about it.
“Yes.” Wing answered smoothly.
“Then what is it you do?” Despite himself, Prowl was curious.
“Exploration, mostly.” Wing hummed. “Though we occasionally take jobs as bounty hunters, of a sort, in order to earn credits.”
Prowl tensed, his vents hitching and his armor clamping tight to his frame. Bounty hunters. Oh Primus, he’d made a mistake. They were here for him after all. Why else would Cybertronian bounty hunters be so interested in him? He knew this hadn’t been a coincidence. Pits, but he shouldn’t have let his guard down.
Wing seemed to notice his fear, because the large mech stepped forward. “Prowl? Are you well?”
The two-wheeler jolted as if he’d been shocked, and then he dived forward and down, folding into his alt mode despite the painful protest his frame made, and as soon as his wheels hit the ground he was speeding off. He heard noises of alarm from both mechs still on the cliff, but he didn’t dare slow down. He had to get away. He wouldn’t go back to Cybertron, he refused to.
And so, spark pulsing at a painful rate, panic overriding his thoughts, he drove until he couldn’t hear them anymore, and then he continued to drive some more. The cave he’d found earlier was well hidden and far away. He’d be safe there.
He had to be.
——————————
Prowl wasn’t sure what woke him, at first. He just knew he hadn’t come out of recharge on his own. He onlined his optics, and was about to sit up when he saw the white form sitting a few paces away from him. Immediately, he froze, fear swamping his EM field before both it and his armor clamped tight. Wing. Somehow, the jet had found him. He flicked his gaze up to see that the older mech was staring at him, expression unreadable. For a long moment, the two bots simply stared at each other in silence.
The groaning of Prowl’s tanks broke it.
Wing frowned, then slipped a hand into his subspace and pulled out an energon cube. Prowl fought the urge to whimper at the sight of the clean, obviously good-quality fuel. He was immensely surprised when, instead of drinking it, Wing set it down and leaned forward to push it towards him. He lay still for several sparkbeats, unable to understand what was happening. He still didn’t sit up, remaining curled up and pressed tightly into his corner.
“Drink, Prowl.” Wing’s voice was gentle, when he finally spoke. “That cube is yours. You need it.”
Prowl hesitated, but in the end he knew he couldn’t deny it. Not with how starved he was, and with how Wing was blocking the exit. He sat up slowly, his damaged and neglected limbs aching, and reached out for the cube. When Wing didn’t make to snatch it back, he curled his fingers around it and pulled it close. He peeled back the seal, distantly noting that if it was still sealed it was not as likely to have been tampered with, and lifted the cube to his lips. At the first slide of proper energon over his glossa, he almost gagged. The energon that the prisoners at Trypticon had been given was low quality, just the bare minimum of what was needed to survive without negative consequences, health-wise. Even this energon, compared to what he knew energon could be, was of fairly average make. But it was far, far better than anything he’d had in a very long time.
As soon as that initial moment passed, and he adjusted to the more intense taste and better fuel, he started gulping it down almost frantically. In the back of his processor, he knew that wasn’t right. He needed to take it slow, after so long without proper fuel, but his frame and his systems were starved and desperate. He flinched back against the cave wall almost violently when a white hand was laid over his wrist, gently pushing it, and the cube, down and away from his mouth. He didn’t notice that some of the energon splashed out and over his armor at his sudden jerk. He was too worried over how Wing had gotten so close without him noticing.
“Easy.” he admonished the terrified Praxian gently. “Slowly, Prowl. I know a starved mech when I see one. You need to take it slow.”
Prowl reset his vocalizer, visor locked onto Wing’s optics. When the pressure on his wrist eased up, he slowly brought the cube back up to his lips and sipped at the fuel within. He still wanted to gulp it all down, but the hand still on his wrist served as a good reminder fo take it easy. He drank in little sips, stopping whenever Wing pushed his wrist down to let his tanks settle and adjust, until he’d finished the contents of the cube.
Wing took the empty cube back, then. He released Prowl’s wrist, subspacing the cube and then leaning back from the uncomfortable mechling’s space. The jet was silent for a moment, his amber optics boring into the smaller Cybertronian’s visored ones with a sort of piercing intensity. Prowl stared back, remaining silent. Already, he could feel his systems processing the fuel, his frame feeling leagues better than it had even a breem ago.
“Why are you here?”
Wing tilted his helm, staring at him for another beat before he answered. “Because you’re very young, Prowl. Far too young to be on your own when you’re so damaged and starved.” he said firmly. “You’re hurt, and I won’t pry into how you got into this state but the fact that a cyber-ninja mechling is so damaged and so far from Cybertron worries me.”
Prowl flinched, processor turning over those words. “You said you are bounty hunters. Cybertron did not send you for me?”
“No. We don’t take jobs from Cybertron. The universal currency is credits, not shanix, though they do accept shanix on planets with Cybertronian connections.” Wing explained. “Drift and I do a lot of traveling. We take jobs from other planets we visit, like finding rare resources, defending against threats, bringing in escaped convicts, and in return we get paid in credits. So it’s not really bounty hunting.” He shrugged. “That was simply the easiest way to explain it, at the time. I don’t realize that doing so would scare you, and for that I apologize.”
Prowl reset his vocalizer, relaxing a little. Wing could still be lying, he supposed. But he didn’t think he was. If the jet truly was a proper bounty hunter, he would have dragged Prowl to his ship as soon as he found him, not waited for him to wake. He also wouldn’t have given him fuel. All of Wing’s actions up till now supported what he was saying.
“I see.” Prowl said after a moment. He still had one question, though. “How do you know I am a cyber-ninja? And why do you care?” Two questions., he supposed.
Wing chuckled. “You referred to Yoketron as “Master”. That tells me you were his student, once.” he explained. “And I care because cyber-ninjas are meant to be a fairly close knit bunch. There aren’t many of us, so we need to look out for each other.” he smiled, warm. “Besides, like I said. You’re very young. That’s worry enough as well, for me.”
Prowl didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m am no cyber-ninja. I never completed my training before Master Yoketron was offlined.” he said, thinking it would get the mech to leave.
It did not. “Wait, that was a while ago. None of the other graduated students took over your training?”
“None of the other students had achieved the rank of master.”
“Even so, the old traditions of the Corps dictate that if a master falls before they can complete their student’s training, then that master’s already graduated students should complete it themselves in the absence of another master.” Wing said, clearly displeased.
The Praxian went still, unsure how to feel about that. He knew why that had never happened to him. He’d been accused of being his Master’s killer. He doubted he was even considered a cyber-ninja, even one in training, by the others. Still, it stung to know that he’d lost even more to the false conviction.
“That never happened.” he said dully.
“So I see. That makes it even worse. What is a cyber-ninja student doing wandering so damaged and so far from home?” At Prowl’s stiffening frame, Wing winced. “Ah, yes. I promised not to pry. Apologies, little one.”
Prowl shook his head, feeling wrong-footed. He didn’t understand why Wing was being so kind. “I doubt I would be considered a student still. Much happened after….” he trailed off. Wing would know what he meant. “After Master Yoketron fell, I doubt the others consider me as a part of the Corps.”
The jet was clearly even more displeased, but as promised, he didn’t pry. “That’s slag.” he said blandly. Prowl almost gaped at the curse. “Even so, I won’t ask for details. But do you need a ride back to Cybertron? If you got stranded, I would be more than happy to return you there. We have a ship.”
“No!” Prowl blurted, then flinched back and curled into his corner again. “No. I don’t ever want to go back.” he said, tone haunted.
“Okay.” Wing agreed easily. “Then would you like a ride to another planet? One were you can get repairs and energon and a way to earn shanix? I know a few small colonies that would welcome you.”
“No.” Prowl shook his helm. “I want nothing to do with Cybertron or it’s colonies.”
“In that case, I know planets that have no affiliation to Cybertron whatsoever, where you can get repair, fuel, and anything else you might need.” Wing said.
He frowned. “Why are you insisting? Do you want shanix? I don’t have much left.”
Wing shook his helm. “No, and I’d refuse payment if you offered, I just want to see you brought someplace where you’ll be safer. That’s all. I knew Yoketron. He was…very dear to me. I want to see his student safe and well.” He paused. “And also, for the reasons I explained before.”
Prowl stared for a long time, unable to wrap his processor around someone offering so much for so little in return. He glanced down at his frame, knowing he probably did need repair, and winced at the energon staining his dull and dented armor. But, that brought up another thought in his processor.
“Do you have more energon?” To his horror, he’d asked the question before he could stop himself. He was just so hungry, even after the cube he’d had.
Wing stilled, then laughed lightly. “Yes. We have plenty aboard the ship. You can get cleaned up and have as much fuel as you need. I won’t ask for payment, either. It wouldn’t be right to ask that when you clearly need food.” he smiled.
Prowl ducked his helm, turning it over in his processor. He was terrified, and still didn’t trust Wing. But this might also be his best chance at getting someplace he could actually, properly start a new life for himself. He did risk Wing turning out to be lying and taking him back to Cybertron, but everything he’d seen and heard from the mech suggested he truly wouldn’t do that. Given his state, this really might be his best chance.
“Alright.” he agreed. “I…would very much appreciate if you could bring me to one of those planets you mentioned.”
Wing beamed, nodding and standing up. He held out a hand to Prowl to help him to his pedes. The Praxian ignored it, using the wall instead to push himself up and leaning against it for support at the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. Once it passed, he looked up to see that Wing had dropped his hand. The jet was still smiling, though the expression had relaxed and softened.
“Come on, then. The ship is this way. Drift went to get it and land it nearby.” He said.
Prowl pushed himself off the wall, then followed Wing out of the cave as the jet took the lead. They walked in silence for a few breems when Prowl suddenly sensed a presence on his right. He jerked his helm wildly, gaze landing on the white racer from before. Drift. He ignored the concern from both the bigger mech’s at his sudden, panicked movement, armor plating flared slightly as he shifted around until he had both the other two on his left. He saw the look they shared, but was infinitely grateful that neither mech made a comment on his behavior.
“Master Wing.” Drift spoke up. “I did as you asked. The spare room on the ship has been emptied and cleaned, and everything in it was transferred the the storage bay. Also, I put him in the ship’s system so he can use the energon dispenser, washracks, and anything else he might need.”
Prowl stopped walking. He knew Drift had been talking about putting him into the ship’s system. But that wasn’t right. If he was just a temporary passenger, then why would he be put into the system? Why would a berthroom be cleared for him? If he wasn’t staying on the ship permanently, then they wouldn’t have cleared out another room for him. Cleaned it up, perhaps, but cleared it out completely? No, this wasn’t making sense. Had Wing lied after all? But then, why do all that if he was just going to be turned in? None of this made sense to him, and as his panic grew it bled into his field.
Wing winced, turning a look onto his student. “I hadn’t actually gotten to that part yet, Drift.” he sighed. “Prowl is too skittish. But thank you, now I have to calm him down again.” he said wryly.
Drift had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Master. I didn’t realize. I’ll go ahead to the ship and get it ready to go.” At Wing’s nod, he folded into his alt mode and drove ahead.
Wing turned back to the frightened Praxian, stepping closer. He expanded his EM field to wrap it around the smaller bot, pushing soothing comfort and easy calm into it to try and help Prowl relax. He didn’t get closer than that, though, remembering how scared he’d been of touch and close proximity.
Prowl looked up once he’d calmed enough, his hands curled into fists. “What was he talking about? Why would you do that on your ship if I’m just a temporary passenger?” he demanded.
Wing chuckled, shaking his helm. “Because I would like to have you as more than just a temporary passenger.” he sighed. “I had hoped to make this offer when you were fueled and rested and felt better, but it seems Drift inadvertently pushed things along.” he said, tone dry.
“What offer?” Prowl asked, fear warring with confusion in his processor.
Wing clasped his hands behind his back, smiling soft and warm. “If you would be willing then learn, then I would very much like to take you as a student.”
———————————————————————————————————
So, what did y’all think? Things are starting to pick up now! Let me know your thoughts, if you’re so obliged! Feedback is a huge motivator for me to keep writing, as I am a writer who craves to know what my readers think about my stuff.
Also, poor Prowl. He’s starving and injured and terrified and has no idea what’s going on. Wing just wants to help! Maybe now things’ll turn around for him, eh?
