Hey everyone! This is going to be a slightly longer author's note than usual. First of all thankyou to everyone who has favourited or alerted this story, it means a lot to me. I'll eventually get around to PMing you all, once NaNo is over. Currently this is my longest story yet, wow! I've already started chapter seven and my total for the story is resting just over 17000 words. Word wars have been my friend so far and I hope they continue to be.
I must admit the characters have run away with me, Creator Three, Prowl and SparkSoul to be exact. This wasn't quite where I was planning to go but anything works so long as I have muse. I'll hopefully be able to get on track after a couple of chapters, it just seems to be the youngling years which are running away with me.
That's all for now and I'll let you get on to reading the story. Please read and review!
It was a decacycle before Jazz tried to reintroduce his creator to his friend. Prowl and Jazz had become very close friends and Jazz desperately wanted his friend to come over one orn so that they could play. His creator hadn't been so sure about the idea after seeing the façade the other youngling held when he had previously met him. Jazz's pleading had eventually gotten through to him and he agreed to meet the black and white youngling again.
When they arrived at the orn care center Prowl was already there, seated upon his usual seat. The pain in his body had become a dull ache, his chassis becoming used to the stress on the different damaged sensors. His self repair systems hadn't fixed anything since his punishment, too much energy going into his battle computer or his processor to allow any for his repair systems.
Somwhere in the back of his processor he knew that he couldn't continue like this, with systems so severly damaged. Soon, someone would notice and it wouldn't end well. There was no way anyone could find out about his creator or how he was brought online. His creator had told him that if the authorities found out they would offline Prowl, something he was afraid of. He wanted to live, he wanted to see Cybertron. Admittedly he didn't like his battle computer, or his lack of emotions but he certaintly didn't want to be offlined. For those reasons he knew he couldn't give anything away but something would have to be done soon otherwise he would fall into stasis without meaning too.
Today his chassis was struggling, the energon he had consumed early in the orn doing nothing to help him function. He had been taking two cubes of energon everyday but still he was struggling with the strain. Improviing his efficiency by 50% hadn't worked well, he struggled to keep his efficiency so high and he paid dearly for it with his battle computer starting to glitch on him, sometimes stuffing up the relays between it and his processor. There was no way that this would resolve itself well, this Prowl knew. He knew he needed medical attention, proper medical attention. The laboratory engineers would no longer suffice for his repairs. The youngling knew his systems were deteriorating slowly, but steadily.
He looked up from his datapad as Jazz stopped next to him, for once noticing what was going on around him. He could probably blame that on his doorwings which were being oversensitive. Every gust from the ventilation systems caused his sensors to light up with pain. With his sensor net being so sensitive he could feel every little shift in air temperature and air direction shift within the room. Every movement from his chassis was painful and now the proximity of Jazz and his creator was as well.
"Heya Prowl! This is mah creator, he's here ta meet yam" Jazz said as he gestured towards the tall mech beside him.
"It's nice to meet you Prowl, Jazz tells me a lot about you. I am happy that he has found such a good friend," the mech said, his voice lilting and musical to the audio receivers.
The mech knelt down to his knees to get on the same level as the two younglings. The movement caused a gust of air to glide over Prowl's oversensitive doorwings. Errors flashed across Prowl's HUD as the sensors lit up with pain. Each error that was shut down just spurred another three errors to pop up. Prowl tried desperately to work through them, to shut down his sensors to allow him to stay online. The most prominent warning in his HUD being that he would fall into stasis immediately.
Jazz's creator saw that the youngling wasn't focused on the conversation, his optics somewhat unfocused. It was upon closer inspection that the mech saw the youngling had specks of white within his optics. This gave it away to the performer, this youngling wasn't in very good health.
Prowl recovered slightly and refocused his optics as best he could, ignoring his HUD. He reverted to rerouting everything into his battle computer, including senses and his emotions. The change was noticed by the mech but not the other youngling present.
"Wha' da ya think abou' mah creator Prowl? He's mah favourite! Da ya want tah come over ta mah place next orn?" Jazz asked excitedly, not noticing what was happening around him.
Prowl's doorwings came closer to his back as he turned to talk to his friend. He never got to say anything in reply because just as his lipplates opened to reply to Jazz's needling, Prowl fell from his chair, lurching sideways onto the floor. His optics shut down rapidly, body going straight into stasis. His doorwings which had been held stiffly were relaxed but that showed off the not very well disguised welds close to the base of the wings.
Jazz's creator leapt forwards to check on the youngling, calling one of the caretakers over as he did so. Energon tears started to trickle down Jazz's faceplates, the experience of seeing his friend falling offline throwing his emotions into a whirl. The smaller black and white youngling's other creator then came over, sweeping Jazz up into his arms. Soft servos ran along the small helm with practiced ease, attempting to soothe away the little youngling's distress.
The orn care centre was awhirl with activity as caretakers came over to Prowl, trying to find out what was wrong with their charge. The medics were called when nothing the caretakers did garnered a response. All the while Jazz's creator held the youngling close to his chassis, keeping his helm off of the ground.
It was a swift response from the medics, two turned up within breems of being contacted. They relieved the red and white mech of the youngling and carried him outside before one of the medics folded into his vehicle form and the other mech placed the youngling inside. Soon the two medics were peeling out of the orn care center, heading straight for the hospital where two medics trained in youngling care awaited their arrival.
Back at the orn care Jazz was sobbing in his creators arms, afraid for his friend. He had no idea what was going on, much less what was wrong with his friend. Prowl had been fine for orns, he had been playing with Jazz just fine. It shocked the youngling greatly to see his best friend fall offline like that. Jazz was worried for his friend, especially if his creator found out and punished him,. What if it was because of him that Prowl had fallen into stasis like that? The thought plagued the black and white youngling.
Prowl couldn't say anything, he knew he wasn't fully online. However his audio receivers were still functioning because his battle computer was online. His optics may not have been working, they had short circuited but he could hear everything around him. The medics were worried, rightly so. From what he could hear his processor had gone offline because of the damage to his chassis. They were horrified at how bad the damage was, how it hadn't been fixed before now.
One of the two medics radioed ahead and warned them to prepare the operating theatre. Prowl could tell it was bad, really bad. He had known that his chassis wasn't repairing itself but he didn't think it would go this far. Apparantely his inside wires were becoming corroded because of an energon leak. He hadn't known that he had an energon leak, he had blamed it on trying to increase his efficiency. It would have explained how he always felt extra tired at the end of the orn or the uncomfortable feeling in the right side of his chassis.
The mech he was inside seemed to speed up as the sounds of the traffic faded. The words exchanged between the two mechs were terse and to the point. Their vocalisers sounded stressed, overly so. Prowl's frame hurt all over and he just wished he was fully in stasis, it wasn't fun to be half online and getting jolted around a lot.
Two doors opened and a large amount of air swept over him. The pain garnered a reaction from the black and white youngling, a soft keen escaping his vocaliser. The sound seemed to stun the mechs as they stopped talking and moving for an astrosecond. Then the voices started back up.
"He's still online, we'll need to get some sedatives in him!" a mech said from somewhere towards his feet.
"I can't believe he isn't in stasis yet, the damage is incredible," a femme said from somewhere near the mech.
Prowl was shifted from where he had been lying, swept up into the arms of the mech as he was rushed inside the medical centre. Every movement caused him intense pain, soft keens and moans escaping his vocaliser. He had no hold over his appendages, his doorwings limp and unresponsive to any commands he gave them. His battle computer could no longer dull the pain, the connection between it and his processor had been partially disconnected. He was lost inside his own helm, without any control over his vocaliser.
He wished desperately to be able to tell the medics around him that his doorwings hurt, that his sensor net felt like it was on fire. However he couldn't do that, all he could do was hope that they would shut down his sensors before they operated. the technicians didn't always shut down his sensors, usually saving that for his most sensitive systems. Right now though he just wished he could escape the pain he had been fighting for orns.
Somewhere in the back of his processor Prowl wondered where Jazz was, and if he was blaming himself. Prowl knew that his friend was the type to blame himself, especially since Jazz had come up with the plan for escaping his creator's notice at the orn care center. Although this had nothing to do with that, or at least nothing to do with the plan, the other youngling didn't know that and would be blaming himself. Prowl hoped that Jazz's creator would convince him that it wasn't his fault, because it certainly wasn't!
The black and white youngling was also wondering what his creator would say. The large mech would undoubtedly be angry with him and most likely punish the small mechling. Prowl knew that having the medics working on him wouldn't be good, they may find out about his battle computer or his modifications that no youngling should have. They oculd even find out that he wasn't a normal creation, that he had been brought online illegally.
His spark pulsed with worry, sending a subconscious signal to SparkSoul where she was hanging out with her friends at the Academy. None of them noticed the subtle change in her posture as she focused her attentions to the weak link with Prowl. The link was emanating pain and instantly she was worried for the youngling's welfare. SparkSoul excused herself from her friends and left in search of Prowl, focusing on the bond to lead her to him.
Prowl didn't notice SparkSoul connecting the bond, he was too caught up in the agony. The medics had yet to give him any painkillers and he was suffering because of it. The youngling wished they would hurry up, they couldn't know how much this hurt. Small movements by the mech who was carrying him triggered his sensor net, every step was painful.
The black and white youngling almost didn't notice when he was placed on the berth, too caught up in the agony. A syringe was stuck into his neck, a numbing sensation spreading through his chassis. The pain was chased away, relieving the youngling of the burden he had been carrying for decacycles.
The medics were quick to act as they wheeled the youngling into surgery. They had a lot to do, and not a whole lot of time to do it in. They were amazed at the levels of damage the small chassis had and more surprised by the fact the youngling had lasted so long without medical attention. So far they hadn't been able to contact the creator, despite their best efforts. They had no idea whether or not the family even had the funds to warrant such a surgery but they went ahead anyway, they couldn't waste such a young life.
The surgery was long, medics switching over every few joors to make sure that the operating mechs were fresh. It took a full orn of work for the youngling to be in a stable condition. The creator had still not been located or contacted, a fact which shocked the medics there.
Their surgery had also revealed the fact the youngling had a battle computer installed, a very advanced one at that. The piece of machinery had obviously been the reason why the black and white mechling had managed for so long. The damage had to be deca-cycles old for the errosion to get so bad. There were tell-tale signs of a shabby repair job, most likely by an engineer or technician, on the chassis. Dodgy welds sealed shut the doorwings and concealed the fact that most of the reflex lines were damaged.
The caretakers at the center had been contacted after the youngling had been entered into the surgery room, the medics searching for any reason for the severe damage. The fact that the youngling had been holding his doorwings so stiffly was explained by the damage although more could be explained by the creator of the youngling. The key to this all was the creator, that they were sure of.
Along with the battle computer the surgery had revealed that the youngling had a spark anomaly, the energy output of the spark being above that of the average youngling. Usually a youngling of that size would only put out a maximum of 70cyteros whereas this youngling's spark was emitting 90 cyteros, well above the normal average. The readout was much closer to that of a full mech, dangerously high for a youngling. The wires and systems within the chassis were much too new for the supposed age of the youngling. The medics hated to think it, but the youngling was most likely an illegal one.
They kept Prowl sedated, his battle computer idle as they waited for the repairs to set in. The black and white youngling was moved to the youngling ward and placed into a room, ensuring that he wouldn't become more damaged from the other younglings. Monitors were hooked up to his delicate systems, making sure that he would stay online.
No one turned up at the medical center until well into the lunar cycle. SparkSoul was the first person to get there, Creator three still not bothering to show up.
Creator three had showed up at the orn care at his usual time to collect Prowl, it was then he was told that his youngling had been whisked away to the nearest medical center. Unbeknownst to the mech and femme caretakers the large mech was furious as he stormed out of the center. They had thought that he was worried for the youngling, and rightly so. However that was not the case, Creator three was much more worried about the repercussions that could happen if the medics found out how Prowl was brought online, or what type of processor and battle computer he had installed.
The large black mech returned to the compound, intent on making alternate arrangements for himself, the youngling and the workers there. He knew there was no way they could hang around Praxus, they would need to shift to a different city, most likely Iacon. Arrangements were made quickly, credits ensuring quickness and silence on behalf of the people working for Creator Three. Within the orn the compound was packed up and shifted, the house once occupied by a Praxian noble was now abandoned.
Under the cover of the lunar cycle the large mech entered the medical center, bypassing the front desk and following the locator beacon to his creation. He had had the locator becon installed in all of the protoforms in case they came online. This way he would always be able to find his creation and it was especially handy it times like this.
When he came upon Prowl's room he was somewhat stunned to find that SparkSoul was already there, seated next to the youngling's berth. There were multiple machines hooked up to the black and white chassis and an energon line was steadily pumping energon into Prowl's systems.
These things didn't really matter to the mech, the only thing on his processor being to get out of the city immediately. Ignoring the femme in the room he walked straight over to the monitors and started disconnecting their power source. He then disconnected everything from Prowl's chassis before lifting the youngling into his arms.
SparkSoul looked at him with icy optics, detesting him for the damage he had caused to the small frame. He didn't particularly care, she wouldn't be able to do anything after they had left the city.
"I told you what would happen if you hurt him again. You obviously didn't listen to me," the femme said, her voice cold and unforgiving.
"You will not be able to stop me, we will be leaving the city immediately and you have no power away from Praxus," Creator three sneered, contempt for the femme undisguised in his voice.
"You would be surprised at how much power I do have outside of the city. Unlike my creator I am not bound to Praxus, you should have known that, I do go to the academy in Iacon remember?" SparkSoul said, an amused look flickering across her face plates.
"He is my creation and no concern of yours," was Creator three's final words as he turned at left the room.
The large mech used the service hallways and stairs to get out of the orn care. The back streets were abandoned at such an hour, none of the Praxus enforcers bothering with the slums. For Creator three it was the best way to get out of the city undetected. He would meet up with the other mechs and femmes from the complex just outside the city. From there they would split up and go to the base in Iacon, already set up in case of such an occurrence.
The youngling in his arms never stirred as he left Praxus behind. Prowl's life would change drastically now, and certainly not for the best.
Thanks for reading! Reviews please?