Quick note: This is Prowl-centric takes place long before Light and makes faint references to Isomorphisms. Also, this was written before the episode "Endgame" aired(today--Saturday, May 16 of 2009), so the end branches off from the show after a certain point. I won't say where. You'll find out. Thanks for stopping by.

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Faith in the Horizon

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Heavy footsteps thudded across metal.

"I hate draft dodgers," said the mech over whose shoulder Prowl hung like hunted game. This placed his rough, growling voice almost in Prowl's audio. "Especially pipsqueaks with mouths."

"Oh, what's wrong?" Prowl shot back. The stasis cuffs on his wrists left him paralyzed, so talk was all he could do. And seeing as this mess ruined his day, he figured being as annoying as possible made for perfect payback. "Annoyed that you're not kissing your boss's skid plate?"

"Quiet! You're lucky you're going to see Yoketron. I'd love to throw your perky little aft into the stockade. Pow! Brats like you never last long."

They were coming upon a huge building, but Prowl couldn't move enough to scan it with his visor. He hoped, desperately, that this huge lug of a mech didn't accidentally pop his visor off. If he did...Prowl tried not to think about it. But not thinking about it made him more conscious of the uncomfortable, square shoulder digging into his abdominal plating.

"Who the slag is Yoketron?"

"Somebody who eats little twerps like you for lunch." The large mech smirked. He carried Prowl inside where it was blessedly warm.

The mech waiting for them wasn't much bigger than Prowl. Enough light existed to guess at color vibrations--lots of white, some black and gold trims as afterthoughts. The most interesting feature was his head. He wore a helm bearing two gold horns from its brow, giving the illusion of a frown. And for all that finery, the white bot just stood there, staring. What? Was he a stupid maintenance mech or something? Prowl sneered, wondering if Yoketron planned on making an appearance anytime soon. Considering the size of the place, he had to be big. Way bigger than the mech clutching Prowl like a toy.

But the little bot's hard stare grew annoying fast. Prowl hated it when people stared!

"Take a holo-scan, it'll last longer!" He groused.

"Quiet, you waste of Spark!" The big bot snapped. Reality flipped as he dumped Prowl unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Oof!"

"Thank you, Warpath," said the white mech. His voice was soft and deep, like the creak of an old joint, and his servos squeaked slightly in their housings. He had to be ancient! So ancient his serial number was probably one or two digits long! "You may remove the stasis cuffs."

"You sure, Master Yoketron? He's a feisty one."

Prowl jerked his head up. What? That creaky old bot was Yoketron? Did serving time mean waxing and oiling him every day? Prowl's shoulders sagged in dismay. Maybe the stockade was a better deal.

"If ya ask me, he should rust in the stockade." The huge bot--Warpath--bent over and unhooked the stasis cuffs. "Any Autobot who won't fight Decepticons is no better than a 'Con himself. We're at war--"

"It's not my war!" Prowl shouted at him. Why walk into gunfire and die for people who wanted him slagged anyway? He was flawed, protoformed without eyes behind his visor, and he'd just be wiped off the memorial wall as soon as the coroner-bot saw the truth. Why waste the time if his death meant nothing? He wanted to live.

Warpath was suddenly in his face. He stunk of cheap oil. "Then maybe I should take you out back and make it your war."

"I believe I can take it from here," Yoketron's calm words contrasted with Warpath's both in tone and timbre.

He must've shot the bigger mech a cold look, because the next thing Prowl knew, Warpath walked off, muttering, "Bam! Pow! Lousy draft dodging peacenik."

The door closed silently, and Prowl found himself alone with the old exhaust puff.

Knowing now he couldn't be thrashed for speaking his mind, Prowl snapped, "Why should I risk my chassis for anyone? Nobody ever risked their chassis for me!"

"Keeping you out of the stockade, I am risking something for you." Yoketron replied without losing his calm demeanor. "But if you are willing to learn, that risk could be very rewarding."

Learn? Prowl ducked his head and smirked to himself so he wouldn't laugh out loud. What could I learn here? How to scrape rust out of your teeth?

He stood up then, and jabbed an accusing finger in Yoketron's direction. "A rusty old bolt bucket like you, teach me anything? Doubtful."

Yoketron chuckled softly, like he knew something Prowl didn't.

"I will make you a deal." He pointed over Prowl's shoulder. "If you can get out the door before I stop you, you are free to go, and all charges will be dropped."

Outrun this ancient garbage can? Piece of flux cake! I'll be out of here before he even processes that I moved.

Speed was something Prowl prided himself in. Before Warpath caught him, he'd been part of an underground racing circuit where the fastest bots on Cybertron competed for prestige. He wasn't the only motorcycle bot who participated--and that meant the likelihood of his flaw coming out became nearly nonexistent. After all, nobody suspected a blind mech could race around a track at break-servo speeds.

He smugly grinned in Yoketron's face-- "See ya!" --and transformed, tearing towards the door.

Just like he expected, Yoketron hadn't moved! He had it made!

He'd almost cleared the door when an impact knocked him clean out of his alt mode. Two more struck his midsection, and before he even processed what happened he was on the ground, pinned beneath something heavy. He lay there until Yoketron's feet stopped near his head.

Yoketron grasped the wooden--whatever it was--and threw it backwards like a toy. It crashed somewhere in the distance.

He'd moved so fast. Faster than Prowl ever could in vehicle mode...and he did it on foot! How was that possible?

Beaten by a rust bucket. How lame! Prowl grudgingly pushed himself to stand, his pride crushed by whatever heavy object Yoketron just tossed aside. The ancient bot's deep, calm voice continued without missing a beat.

"If you would care to learn, you may stay and make yourself useful." Yoketron pulled out a long stick that he twirled with impressive speed and set down in front of Prowl. "You can start by cleaning up this mess."

Prowl reached out and grasped the handle. A push broom? First he got beaten up by that old coot, and now this? But it was getting dark out, and his oscillators were useless in the dark! Night time was the time he'd find a place to hole up and stay put until daylight. And now, he was in a strange place, being stared down by another bot who would know immediately once he faltered in the dark.

"Why do I have to clean up the mess you made?" Prowl groused.

No answer came.

Yoketron had walked away without a sound. It was one of the most embarrassing blunders of blindness--talking to empty air like a simpleton. Prowl ducked his head and muttered curses under his breath. He shoved the broom forward into an eternal nothing until it bumped into the wall. A quick about-face and he started towards the opposite wall, counting the steps it took to reach the other side. It was perhaps the only skill he retained since he upgraded himself with the oscillators. Who needed those non-visual skills when he had a secret mod that let him function like a sighted bot?

Prowl's quick exploration told him this room was a hundred steps long and seventy wide. The walls weren't even--once or twice he encountered the same wooden object Yoketron knocked him into earlier. Prowl went around them.

Cleaning that room took hours. The broom was titanium and...wood...and weighed at least a ton. It resisted him each time he pushed it across the floor. By the time he finished, his legs, hips, elbows and shoulders all ached from overuse.

How did Yoketron twirl such a heavy object like a toy?

"I'm finished!" Prowl shouted. He let the broom fall behind him. "Where do I put the--"

"No need to shout," Yoketron's voice was right beside him. He touched a button on the wall and the lights within his home snapped on.

Startled, Prowl jerked and tripped over the broom he just threw down. The hard wooden floor greeted the back of his head with a loud, humiliating clank.

Mercifully, Yoketron didn't laugh. He took the broom and said, "You have burned a lot of fuel, but you don't need to worry. Dinner will be served soon." He pointed to a door and his voice hardened into no-nonsense, "Go there and clean yourself. I will not tolerate dirty hands or feet near my table. You will wash before every meal as long as you remain here."

The old bot's tone left no room for argument. Prowl grudgingly entered the other room. Maybe a good few minutes under a hot spray would do him good.

Except there were no spigots anywhere. Prowl scanned every wall. The room was empty, save for a pump in the middle with two bowls, a basin, sponges and cloths to dry off. Even the waste container was old, and required manual dumping instead of an automatic flusher.

What the frag kind of bot lives without modern equipment in his own home? Prowl wondered, irritated. He stood there for ages until Yoketron entered.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Prowl gestured to the pump. "I don't know how to use this thing!"

Yoketron responded with a quiet cough of a laugh. "Oh, Prowl, you are cursed with your youth. The world outside wastes so much. Well, here, nothing is ever wasted. Here, you use only what you need."

With that, he held the sponge under the pump, pulled the handle and pumped until a gush of water soaked the sponge thoroughly. Then he knelt and washed his hands over one of the bowls, which caught the excess water that dripped. He did the same with his feet. Afterward, he wrung out the sponge, took the bowl and poured the water into a tray. Something organic grew from the tray to wrap around the bars on the window.

"What is that--green thing?" Prowl asked.

"It is a vine from Quintessa that thrives on water."

"Oh." Prowl worked the pump, washed and poured the contents of the bowl into the same tray. "Why do you have an organic plant in your washroom?"

But Yoketron was gone. Again.

This habit irritated Prowl. Talking to thin air twice in one day did not do his self esteem any good. He swore under his breath on his way into the main room. Unidentifiable scents drew him across Yoketron's house to a small space barely larger than a walk-in closet. There were no chairs, just a low, rectangular white table sitting on a black rug. When he sat down on the floor, Prowl noticed the eating utensils were also white--and nearly invisible to his oscillators. They weren't even forks! They were two metal sticks held together by a magnet.

Yoketron emerged balancing two trays on his hands. He set one down at the end of the table where Prowl figured he was supposed to sit and set his own at the other. Prowl adjusted himself accordingly.

The food was nothing Prowl ever encountered before. There was a bowl of tiny energon cubes no bigger than the screws that kept his armor plating from flying off. Next was a square tray that smelled like flux, but it'd been rolled into noodles with petroleum poured on top. The smell didn't appeal much to Prowl's olfactory sensors, so he moved his attention now to the drink--a squat bowl of turpentine tea with...Prowl sniffed again...bleach.

Yoketron settled on his knees and reached for the energon bowl first. He took the two sticks in one hand, brought the bowl close to his face and began to daintily scoop the energon into his mouth.

Prowl's attempt to imitate him failed miserably. He picked up what he spilled and placed it back in the bowl.

"Do you have a spoon I could use?"

"Mealtimes are silent here."

"I just wanted to--"

"Prowl..."

"But, I--"

"Confuto!"

It was a word in a language Prowl never heard before, yet its meaning was clear. And Yoketron always spoke so softly that hearing him shout shocked Prowl to silence.

Stung, Prowl used his fingers to eat, all the while wishing the floor would swallow him whole. The flux and petroleum tasted odd together, and only sipping the sour tea offered relief. Energon, at least, was familiar enough to make up for the otherwise unpleasant flavors. How did Yoketron stomach such weird food?

He didn't dare speak until Yoketron set his tea bowl down in the center of his empty food tray and spoke without a hint of his earlier anguish, "You are hiding something."

"What?" Prowl jerked his head up. First, a terrible dinner and now this?

"Everyone I've known who wore a visor took it off from time to time."

Prowl tried not to squirm under the older mech's careful scrutiny. "I-I just like mine."

"And there must be a reason you would dodge the draft for so long..."

"I already told you! Why should I risk my chassis when nobody ever risked theirs for me? It's pretty dumb to fight for people who wouldn't even care if I died!"

"Exactly. Now," Yoketron said softly, "take off your visor."

"No."

"Is it because you like it, or is it to hide your shame?" Then, in a few simple words, Yoketron stunned him beyond belief, "We are all flawed in some way, Prowl. And if you are to learn, I must know you."

"Look, Yoketron," Prowl stood up slowly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your defensiveness suggests that you do. But if your digestion would benefit from a walk, you're free to leave the room."

Yes! Freedom!

Prowl turned to walk out the door. It was closed. He found out with his face, and reality reverberated from the impact. Several times, Yoketron put him in positions that made his flaw obvious. No excuses could possibly hide the truth. Yoketron knew.

"There is blindness...and there is blindness." Yoketron's voice was suddenly beside him, soft and gentle. "Do not let your visor prevent you from seeing yourself, Prowl."

But what I AM is disgusting.

"I'm hideous." Prowl's voice was squished small by the growing heat in his throat. "I need the visor to cover it. It connects to oscillator technology. Without it...I-I'm helpless."

"You are not the first flawed mech to live under my care." Yoketron laid a hand across his back. "If you let me, I will turn your weaknesses into strengths. But I can not teach you anything until I see your flaw for myself."

Prowl pressed his forehead hard against the smooth metal door. His whole body quivered in terror. Logically he knew he was safe, but taking off his visor was more dangerous than baring his Spark.

"I-I'm afraid."

"Then let me."

Yoketron removed the visor, exposing Prowl completely. Prowl heard himself weeping silently when Yoketron saw the ugly truth he spent his life trying to conceal. He couldn't bear to reach up and cover his own face, because that meant feeling his lack of eyes.

"I see no ugliness here." Yoketron spoke after a moment's silence. "You are young and frightened, Prowl, but the only shame is how the flawed are treated." He reached out then, and Prowl felt himself encircled in the old mech's arms. "Shhh...it is all right."

Having never been held before, Prowl didn't know how to respond. He just stood there, biting his lip hard so he wouldn't sob and make himself look even more pathetic.

"True beauty comes from the Spark, not the body." Yoketron whispered. He offered Prowl his visor and stepped back, "And to be a ninja is to use all senses, not just sight. The path will not be easy, and nothing will be simply handed to you. You must work in order to learn. Accept that and you will be a fine student."

Prowl collected himself and put his visor back on. Could he really learn to fight in a way that concealed his flaw?

"I never did like hand-outs, Yoketron," he smirked, "When do we start?"

Yoketron's response had a smile behind it, "You can start by referring to me as Master Yoketron. Now, come, I will show you to your quarters."

Prowl skipped two steps to catch up. Yoketron led him from the dining area, turned right and entered a corridor just across from the washroom.

"The first door on your right will be your room. The one across from it leads to mine." The old ninja bot smiled, "And don't think about sneaking away. Door servos have a terrible tendency to wake me from even the deepest slumber."

Of course he'd be a light recharger, but Prowl had a feeling he wouldn't want to go sneaking out anytime soon. Especially if it meant getting his aft kicked again. He started to turn away when Yoketron stopped him with a light touch on his arm.

"What?"

"I am your sacred sensei now, which means you must treat me with the same respect you would Primus. Therefore, you must learn to bow." Yoketron wasn't joking, and his tone kept Prowl from running his mouth. "Place your arms at your sides, touch your hips and bend at the waist until your head and Spark align towards my eyes."

Sighing, Prowl made a weak attempt.

"Your arms are not noodles, Prowl, they are iron bars. Keep your shoulders back and don't bend your knees. Now, try it again."

"Oh, come on, what's this supposed to teach m--"

A hand grabbed his chin and hauled him forward until his visor only detected two narrowed optics boring into his metal skull. The voice attached to the hand nearly froze his circuits. "Do you want to learn, Prowl?" Yoketron gave his chin a slight jerk, "Answer me when I address you."

Prowl was too scared not to obey. "Y-yes."

"Good." Yoketron's grip loosened a half-degree. "Then I expect you to pay attention. The first thing my students learn is respect. To be a ninja is to respect your sensei."

"But I-I--"

That icy voice again, "The proper response is 'yes, Master Yoketron.'"

Prowl sighed again, tempted to shove Yoketron away. Memories of what happened the first time he underestimated him stayed his hands. He grumbled, "Yes, Master Yoketron."

"Now say it without sneering."

"Yes, Master Yoketron." Prowl said, deadpan.

"And bow."

Prowl placed his hands at his sides and dipped slightly forward. The fingers grasping his chin pulled his head down lower, then let go.

"Your first lesson is concluded, then. Remember--respect me, and I will respect you. Respect requires obedience. Do as I say and you will become a fine student under my care." Yoketron stepped back, no longer invading Prowl's personal space. "I will see you tomorrow."

But he didn't immediately depart, and Prowl wasn't sure why at first. Then he remembered and shifted awkwardly into another bow. Yoketron mirrored the gesture with far more grace and departed, leaving Prowl wondering if a clumsy bot such as himself could learn to move that smoothly. What if Yoketron was wrong? What if he was a dud?

Prowl entered the room assigned to him, found the light switch with his hand and turned it on. His quarters were just a little bigger than the tiny dining area. Walking its dimensions confirmed his suspicions--fifteen steps long and ten wide--as opposed to ten long and five wide. A hexagonal window like the ones in the main room marked the center of the wall on the right. Here and there, decorative sculptures depicting mechs in fighting poses sat on tiny shelves. But where was the recharge berth? Yoketron didn't expect him to sleep on the floor, did he? Then, as he walked across from the window, his foot bumped into the octagon shape of a portable berth. He unrolled it and was surprised to discover a thin layer of memory foam topping each folding segment.

Prowl settled down on his side, surprised to discover how the foam cradled his body like...like resting on air.

I hope I'm cut out for this, Prowl thought while grasping the edge of the berth. I really hate being cooped up in here with that stuffy old fume bag, but it's better than the stockade. I'll just do my time and get out whenever my sentence is up.

Reaching up, Prowl rubbed the smooth spaces beneath his visor.

He said he saw no ugliness here. Tch, probably just talking out his aft to make me feel better. I really hate old bots. Especially the ancient ones without a sense of humor like Yoketron. I'll never be able to relate to him! He's old! I'm young! Hmph...but this IS a comfy berth...

His thoughts disjointed and a nagging ache in his joints reminded him of the horrid broom he had to push around. Hopefully, he wouldn't be using that wretched thing again any time soon.

Whatever. Prowl turned over onto his right side, which left him facing the door. I'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here.

He was almost in recharge when he heard Yoketron reach in and shut off the light. Darkness enveloped him, and soon, so did sleep.