Prequel's up. Writing is an illness. I've spent an hour and a half on this damn thing. I intend to explore many questioned posed to me, starting with one that actually bothered me. Originially, Prowl was lying about having an injury, but I decided that he wasn't.
Prowl shut the door to his private library and crossed to a shelf he barely ever touched. He pulled an older tablet from the shelf and took it down. He tapped it to life and looked over the files contained within.
He turned and walked back toward his chair in the corner, but roughly halfway across the room, his left knee hitched and gave out. He hit the floor with a loud clank.
Prowl didn't move, he sighed and just laid there. The struts and joint gears in his knee would realign soon enough, if he kept it straight and stayed still. He cursed the solarcycle this had happened, however.
**
He'd been promoted from star detective to reclusive if not somewhat eccentric Chief of Police. This meant he actually had to be involved in field work now, well, on occasion.
"Chief! We got a shooting downtown, suspect's on the run, drones in pursuit, but he's a pretty slipp'ry mech!" Nightbeat reported.
Prowl glanced up, then rose. "I want all units on his tail. I'll be out myself in two cycles."
"Yessir."
The mech, a petty thief, controlled-substance dealer, and convicted rapist on parole by the name of Barricade, was surrounded. Prowl stood just inside the circle of officers all pointing their rifles at Barricade.
"Barricade, you're not getting out of this on your own. You're either leaving this circle in stasis cuffs or in a compaction cube," Prowl said softly. "Now, I think you'd rather leave it alive."
"Like the Pit. You think I care anymore?" Barricade growled.
"I know you do. You care about your business. Females. Getting so damn overcharged, you forget who you are..." Prowl smirked. "Your mother."
"You shut your glitch mouth!"
"You watch yours. There's ladies present. Now, are you going to come quietly?"
Barricade looked for a moment as if he was going to, but instead pounced on Prowl, slamming him to the ground.
Prowl threw him off, getting back up and going for his rifle, which had skittered across the ground when he was tackled. Barricade grabbed his ankle, yanking as he stood. He got Prowl part of the way to the ground, and proceeded to smash his knee joint, snapping it backward over his thigh as if it were a dowel.
Prowl let out a yell of pain and used his good leg to kick Barricade off, then yelled to his circle of subordinates. "What are you waiting for, idiots?! Open fire!"
Innumerable shots rang out, and finally, one voice shouted out. "Got him!"
It was Prowl's ex-partner, a femme by the name of Slipstream. She let some of the others handle Barricade's remains while she approached the fallen cop.
"I thought we talked about this," she teasingly scolded him.
"No. We... talked about you getting shot," he corrected her. "This is different."
"You've got me, Chief. I've got a medic on the way."
"Son of a glitch broke my knee."
"It's shattered."
"I didn't need to hear that."
"Probably won't ever heal right."
"Slipstream."
"You'll never walk again."
"I know where you live."
"You'll be crippled for the rest of your life."
"Now you're overdoing it."
"You might even lose the leg."
"I am your superior."
**
He felt the joint gears click back into place, and carefully stood, picking up the tablet. He limped over to his chair and pulled the foot rest over, propping his leg up, and starting to read over the tablet.