After his second training session with the medics, Prowl was taking a few extra joors to catch up on some work he had not been able to complete during his normal shift that orn. He had not been able to finish this particular analysis because he had needed to keep a pre-existing follow-up appointment to allow Ratchet to check on the stability of his command cortex.
Ratchet had completed the brief scan, reported things were improving as expected, and then let him know it would be at least another orn before he and his staff would be free to have another training session.
Acknowledging that with understanding, Prowl had left to collect Bluestreak from Chromia in the base's sparse entertainment center. However, both younglings had been so engrossed in their holovid, Prowl had acquiesced to letting Bluestreak stay with his friend until it was over.
That had left Prowl free to work without additional, outside responsibilities; an opportunity he had jumped on with well-controlled enthusiasm.
He was so focused on his datapad and the computer terminal on his desk – which had been connected to the base's network and power supply by the time he had gotten back to his quarters from helping First Aid regain his confidence after his crash – that when his entry request sounded, it startled him.
Then, assuming it must be Chromia with Bluestreak, he almost did not scan for a spark signature. He did so any way, out of ingrained habit, and gave a mild start when his scan revealed it was actually Jazz.
Recovering from his surprise, Prowl granted entry, looking back down at his datapad. Jazz stepped in, glanced around briefly and then headed for Prowl's desk.
"Still unable to hack the lock?" Prowl asked mildly once the saboteur drew near.
Jazz froze. "Uh… didn't know ya wanted me ta." He looked back at the door and extended a hand – which had a cube of energon in it – back toward the portal in question. "My hands were full. But I could go back and…"
"Unnecessary." Prowl interrupted with a tiny flick of his doorwings, putting the datapad down and turning his full, polite attention to the head of Autobot special operations. "It is late and I assume you are here for a reason?"
Prowl was momentarily concerned that had come across as too callus, but Jazz only smiled, lifting the energon cube demonstrably. "I noticed ya didn't get your energon today, so I brought ya some."
Prowl lifted an optic ridge. Such a gesture seemed out of character for a mech like Jazz to do for a mech like him. Unless… "Still monitoring my activities?"
The inescapable blip his upgraded doorwings, detected from two separate light fixtures, indicated that that was a distinct possibility. But he did not want to jump to conclusions. Even so, the question had come out more accusatory than he intended.
Jazz hesitated at his tone, the smile falling from his lip plates. Then he shook his helm. "Nah, not like that. Ya just happened to be a very regimented type of mech. So, like I said; I brought some for ya."
Prowl blinked and finally looked at the cube of energon that was thrust in front of him. Realizing he had been borderline rude to a mech who – apparently – just went out of his way to bring him a ration of fuel, he belatedly gestured Jazz to the other chair as he accepted the cube. "My thanks."
The smile reappeared as the silver saboteur dropped gracefully into the offered seat. Prowl took a cautious sip, watching Jazz the whole time, trying to figure out why Jazz would go to such an effort.
When his own attempts to figure it out failed, he decided to simply ask. "Why would you do this?"
Jazz blinked. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?" Then he hesitated in a way that was very much out of character before dropping his gaze to watch as he fingered some non-existent scratch on the surface of Prowl's desk. "Besides, it's the type of thing friends do for one another."
Prowl stared, his processor stalling and he had to fight back the sharp pain that suddenly threatened his still fragile command cortex.
But he remembered that fleeting thought from one of the memories Jazz had shared with him; remembered the fear that by helping Ratchet demolish his firewalls after his crash that Jazz had worried he would forfeit any hope that Prowl would consider him a friend.
Friend…
Jazz had been in his mind, had interrogated him; had fragmented him and stripped his firewalls. Mostly he had only done what his duty – or what the constraints of the situation – had required of him. Even if he had acted more recently for Prowl's wellbeing, Jazz was still entertaining the possibility they could be friends?
Friendship implied trust. Not just generalized trust, but a very personal type that by its very nature assumed the risk of possible betrayal… betrayal in the most painful ways imaginable.
He had had no friends in the Decepticon ranks and had learned not to desire friendships either. Then, when he had come to the Autobot base, he had accepted the fact that his history and past would prevent any of the Autobots from seeking him out as a comrade. Even Jazz, who had gone out of his way to socialize with him, had not seemed interested in taking the boundaries of their relationship beyond that of awkward acquaintanceship.
They respected each other and understood the darker side of each other's abilities. But… friend?
Prowl did not realize he had spoken aloud until Jazz straightened, shifting uncomfortably. "Well… not if the idea is that objectionable…"
The pain Prowl heard – or perhaps imagined – buried in that sentence came like a blow to his faceplate. He shook his helm quickly. "It is not objectionable… it is merely unexpected."
Jazz shot him a look that, while still hidden by his visor, said clearly he had a hard time believing that statement. Then, as Prowl became truly uncomfortable under his stare, he asked slowly. " 'Good' unexpected or 'bad' unexpected? Cause it's kinda hard ta tell."
Prowl blinked, realizing Jazz was still trying to determine if he should take offence. "My apologies. I am simply surprised that you would wish to consider me a friend."
"How so?" The flare of Jazz's armor relaxed fractionally.
Prowl opened his mouth to tell him, but just could not force the words out. He cleared his vents and looked away. Jazz had shared his memories with him, had made himself vulnerable to Prowl in an effort to help him. Even so, the tactician was hard pressed to figure out exactly why he was having trouble explaining something so personal to the mech. Perhaps it was his innate concern that Jazz knew too much about him already.
In the end settled for something he knew was a copout "It is just… unexpected."
Jazz's visor snapped up, probably so that he could cock an optic ridge more effectively. "So… I'm back ta 'good' unexpected or 'bad' unexpected?"
Prowl's processor started to ache at the absolute ridiculous turn this conversation had taken. With two fingers pressed against his temple plating he tried again to formulate a response. Then, in a flash of insight, he realized just how obtuse he was being.
He let his lip plate quirk upwards, peering at Jazz from under the hand he kept on his temple. "You do realize how absurd we sound right now?"
Jazz flashed him a cheeky grin. "Speak for yourself, Prowler. I just asked a reasonable question."
Prowl jerked his helm back a millimeter, staring at the saboteur. For a long moment he was unable to reconcile the look on Jazz's face and the blithe tone of his voice to the statement itself. He was about to request clarification when understanding slammed into him: Jazz was teasing him.
It was not the hurtful, spiteful type of cutting jest designed to derive enjoyment at another's painful expense, but simply the type of light-hearted banter and teasing that two friends might indulge in.
How should he respond? Rebuffing the humor might offend Jazz, or likewise, make the jokes become more biting. Responding in kind might either encourage future displays or appear too forward. Ignoring it was likely to cause offence as well… or trigger yet another attempt. Simply acknowledging the effort but not indulging in the same was likely to do the same thing.
Part of his processor rebelled, knowing that he and Jazz had shared similar conversations before and it had not posed this much difficulty to him at the time. Why now?
As pain licked the edge of his awareness yet again, Prowl knew the answer. His difficulty with comprehending and responding appropriately to friendly humor probably stemmed from the damage done to the emotional and logic interfaces within his command cortex.
Even recognizing the cause did not change the fact that his spark-deep desire for the camaraderie that a true friend could offer, the support that he had until that moment despaired of ever experiencing again, conflicted with his deep seated, well ingrained fear of trusting another mech to that extent.
He drew in a vent and tried to still his processors, but he made the mistake of looking at Jazz. The still hopeful, if hesitant expression – slowly morphing into worry – on the silver mech's faceplate only increased the conflict.
He opened his mouth to speak only to feel a faint clicking sensation within his processor before darkness enveloped him.
… … …
Prowl onlined only a half of a breem later to find he was sprawled face down on the floor. His doorwings told him immediately – even before he was able to online his optics – that Jazz was crouched at his side. His processors then told him that the saboteur's clawed hand was resting gently on his shoulder. The warmth that had built from the contact indicated it had been there for most of the time he had been out.
He released a vent, the air groaning through his systems as he sat up. Instead of removing his hand, Jazz shifted his hold to help steady him. Once he was stable on his knees, Prowl worked up the courage to look at Jazz.
The concern he saw in the other mech's unmasked optics mirrored the concern he had felt in Jazz's memories. It was enough to break through Prowl's reserves.
Jazz must have seen the change because he squeezed his shoulder once, his expression morphing into sympathy.
"Ya really don't know how ta handle this type of thing, do ya." He said quietly.
"I…" Prowl looked away, suddenly ashamed, though he was not sure why. He was about to pass off his failure as a result of his time among the Decepticons, but he could not bring himself to do that. As awkward and uncomfortable – and occasionally downright painful – as their relationship had been, it had always been marked by honesty. Brutal honesty in some cases.
Prowl could not bring himself to be the one to change that fact.
"A result of the damage done to my emotional and logic coding, I believe. Ratchet established a failsafe to keep me from actually crashing again. Apparently it worked." He heard himself explaining softly.
He felt more than saw Jazz's alarm. "Damage? Not… not because I had ta…?"
"No, I do not think so." Prowl interrupted Jazz quickly, still not looking up at him. "From damage done by the crash itself."
"Oh."
They sat in silence for a long moment, then Prowl felt the hand on his armor tighten again, tentatively. He looked up to see Jazz was leaning closer. "If that's the only problem, we can work around it. We can still be friends."
Prowl blinked then lowered his gaze again. He had been honest so far, might as well lay it all out now. "It has been a long time since I have not had to worry about other's ulterior motives and private agendas, especially when their behavior is what one might call 'friendly.'"
It was Jazz's turn to blink; then his engine gave a low rev. "Decepticons?"
Prowl nodded. "I do not assume you are the same, but you should know where I am coming from. I fear it will be even harder for me to overcome because of my… condition; as you just saw."
Jazz considered him for a moment then nodded. "Fair enough, I 'spose." Then he grinned widely. "But I'll probably keep teasing ya, even if ya have a hard time getting it now."
Despite everything, Prowl found his faceplate softening into a hint of an answering smile, relief easing the tension in his frame. "Your efforts toward my complete recovery will be appreciated… within reason."
Jazz blinked and then he chuckled, the sound building into a deep laugh that Prowl found oddly rewarding.
… … …
"This is a bad idea." Sideswipe murmured fretfully even as he hacked the door controls to the auxiliary monitor station in one of the secondary structures making up the outer core of the buildings making up the Autobot's base in Iacon.
"Shut up, just do it already." Sunstreaker hissed.
"That's what I'm doing." And so saying, the door hissed open.
As expected, the small room was dark and silent. Both twins wore spark dampeners so the lights did not react to their presence. Not troubled by this, they quickly stepped in and let the door shut behind them.
Once they were enclosed, in order to illuminate their surroundings, each twin powered on the lights incorporated into their armor from their alt modes. Sideswipe carefully but quickly scanned the room, looking for the terminal he wanted.
Seeing it, he hurried to settle onto the stool before plugging in his cord and synching with it. Once the connection was made, he shuttered his optics and began the truly difficult portion of this clandestine operation.
Ten breems later Sunstreaker was getting truly anxious and restless. He started pacing. His increasing nervousness, which resonated between them, made Sideswipe look up at his twin irritably.
"Chill mech. I can't think with you worrying like that."
Sunstreaker shot him a dark look. "You're taking too long."
"You're the one who wants me to hack into med bay's records." Sideswipe made a face even though he looked down at the screen in front of him. "Ratchet's records. Trying to hack Megatron's personal files without getting caught would be a pit of a lot easier I bet."
"We need to know what happened to him." Sunstreaker groused, leaving Sideswipe to continue pacing the tiny chamber. "It isn't natural for a tactician to be injured like that. It could be dangerous and we have a right to know."
"I'm sure the Prime would…"
"The Prime wants to trust everyone." Sunstreaker snapped, then spoke softer. "He welcomed us into the ranks, after all. We have to know because we have to be ready. Just in case."
Sideswipe huffed. "It probably isn't even anything worth… oh. Hello."
Sunstreaker spun back around to face him. "You're in? What did you find?"
"This." Sideswipe pointed to the relevant lines of data.
Sunstreaker leaned over him and read quickly, then his optics flashed. "Wow. I never would have expected that."
Sideswipe nodded mutely in agreement.
They looked at each other, neither one exactly sure what they could – or should – do with what they had found. Not yet.
… … …
Prowl stared at his department commander, taking in Smokescreen's flared armor, his heaving vents and the stubborn set of his optics. Nothing in the younger mech's arguments had made him reconsider his position on the matter. Even so, the sharp way Smokescreen had said his name warned him that he had pushed too far with his objections. The tense silence around them, as all the other mechs watched in morbid fascination, only reinforced that fact.
Bowing as graciously as he could to the circumstances, Prowl intentionally flicked his doorwings back and down, though they only moved fractions of a centimeter, and lowered his gaze to Smokescreen's chassis.
Seeing his change in bearing, Smokescreen's own posturing eased. Then, to Prowl's utter amazement, a faint, relieved smile touched the white and gray mech's lip plates.
"You will see to the reorganization of the tactical department." Smokescreen ordered in crisp, clear tones that carried throughout the tactical command center.
"Yes, sir." Prowl answered, though he felt almost compelled to say more, to apologize. "Smokescreen, I…"
"No." Smokescreen cut him off, his relieved smile turning into a smirk. "I expect you to notify me when you disagree with me."
Prowl felt the tension in the room dissipate almost immediately and instantly understood what had happened, what Smokescreen had manipulated that moment to truly accomplish. It had not been to humiliate him, but to prove something – to illustrate something – to the rest of the staff. It assured them that Smokescreen was unquestionably still in command and, doubtless because he had known Prowl would capitulate in the end in such a scenario, assured he got Prowl to reorganize the department based on his greater experience but it also reinforced Prowl's own authority over the other mech's in the department.
It was very similar to the way Prowl had manipulated Smokescreen into actually issuing orders that gave him a low-status job as well as one that required a monitor his first day as an official Autobot tactician. He had known Smokescreen would find a way to 'repay' him for that and, oddly enough, found he was actually rather proud that his apprentice had found a way to do so that also helped the unit as a whole.
He allowed the corner of his lip plate to quirk upwards to let Smokescreen know he knew what had really just happened and was rewarded by seeing the younger mech's frame relax perceptively.
It was no easy task Smokescreen had assigned him and he had appropriately thrown himself into it, determined to perform the task adequately and fairly. True, he knew a great deal about roughly half of the staff's strengths and weaknesses, but there were still a number of mechs he only had limited observation of. On top of that, navigating the treacherous landscape of the other tacticians' personalities in relationship to lingering concerns about himself… that was going to be a whole different challenge.
For all of their agreement to continue working in the department, to work under his command, most of the tactical staff was still wary around him: nervous. Fusion, while not openly rude or inappropriate, was actively looking for a reason to contest Prowl's elevation. Nor had he made a secret of that fact.
Likewise, Trailbreaker was not exactly happy to have him promoted above him, even though he had yet to do anything openly inappropriate. That said, lately, he had been acting a little… off. Nothing major, only a collection of little things, such as a reluctance to meet his optics, the way his armor would tighten around his frame if Prowl looked at him and other such matters that might, in any other circumstances, indicate Trailbreaker was ashamed or embarrassed about something. But that conclusion made little sense.
For now, Prowl chose to ignore the behavior, hoping it would work itself out over time. If not – or if it became more obvious – he would have to address it. But for now he wanted to cause as little friction as possible.
Driver had, at last, started asking for his help rather freely when needed. A couple of the other junior level staff had tentatively followed their fellow's lead, though it was by no means universal or comfortable yet.
It would be a delicate balance, to establish his position as a commander but not go beyond the almost invisible social boundaries established by the fact that his rank and position were still conditional, barring successful completion of his probationary period.
He was not good at interpersonal communication. At the very least it was generally a source of discomfort and stress for him. He had to hope that his tactical computer would be up to the multilayered and varied tasks ahead of him. Because, in addition to all of his job related duties were those he owed Bluestreak as his caretaker and to the medics whom he had promised to train to the best of his abilities.
And that was why, later that orn, Prowl was taking an extra joor after his fourth training session with the medics to meditate and regain his focus and settle his spark. It did not help that, just before they had a left to return to the med bay, Ratchet had quietly confided with him that it appeared that his medical records had been hacked by an, as of yet, unknown assailant. It was unclear what had been taken or why it had been done, or even when exactly it had happened. But the medic had apologized with a grumbled complaint that this was the first time his records had ever suffered such an indignation.
With more calm than he had felt, Prowl had assured Ratchet that a determined enough hacker would have been able to break into even the most carefully guarded files. When Ratchet had started to apologize again, Prowl had been quick to assure him that, for what it was worth, the medic still had his complete confidence.
Ratchet had stared at him then, searching his gaze for a long, serious moment before he dipped his helm in respectful acknowledgement. It was not the type of gesture Prowl would have expected a mech with the CMO's rank to give him, a provisional second in command of a single division. It was a gesture more befitting someone like Ultra Magnus or the Prime.
And it had thrown his already muddled processors for another loop.
As the first joor rolled into a second one, Prowl was just settling his processors when the training room door hissed open.
Prowl's optics snapped on-line and his doorwings flared, alarmed that his focus had been so diverted he had neglected to keep alert for the presence of others. That had been happing with disturbing frequency recently.
That alarm did not wane as, standing in the open doorway was the Prime, his red and cobalt armor flared, his sharp blue optics unreadable as they focused on him. It was not so much the larger mech's expression as it was a feeling that radiated off of him: he was not happy.
"Prime." Prowl scrambled to his pedes, sensing the discontent in his leader's demeanor and knowing instinctively it was directed at him, even if he did not know the cause.
"Prowl." The Prime stepped forward, letting the door close. "I understand you have taken it upon yourself to train the medics in self-defense."
It was said so neutrally that Prowl was even more guarded. Guarded and confused as to why the Prime would be displeased by that fact. Nevertheless, he would not lie. "Yes sir."
Prowl stiffened as the Prime circled the mat, though he did not move his head to follow the larger mech's progress, keeping his optics on the now closed door, his spinal struts ramrod straight. "It is my hope you are successful where Ironhide has failed in that regard. However, I am disappointed."
Prowl's tanks froze, though his doorwings flicked as he followed the Prime's circle with his sensors. "For what reason, Prime?" He asked carefully. Long vorns of practice kept his voice completely free of inflection.
"Ratchet told me over energon today that they have had four lessons within the last decaorn, when it is been nearly a quartex since the last time we have met for a training session."
Prowl blinked, surprise making him glance at the Prime who was only then coming up on his other side. "You did not indicate that you wanted another session, sir."
The Prime was facing him again and Prowl knew his befuddlement was slipping through his control, as was some of his sudden trepidation. Or perhaps that was just the piercing nature of the Prime's gaze that seemed to strip him of his armor and reveal his very spark. He stood perfectly still under that penetrating gaze, his own optics falling respectfully.
After a long moment the stiff set of the Prime's armor relaxed. "I see. I was not clear enough the last time, my apologies. You are the master in this arena, Prowl. I would not impose in your domain unless the need was great."
Prowl blinked, then looked up to see that the Prime – the Prime – had adopted the standardized, formal posture of a Circuit Su trainee making a ceremonial and official request of their Circuit Su master: Optimus' larger frame was inclined respectfully toward him and his optics were lowered to a neutral point on Prowl's chassis.
He had accepted that the Prime wanted him to be a teacher of the discipline. He had accepted that the Prime considered him a master in Circuit Su. But never would have remotely considered the possibility that the Prime would ever want him to be his master in Circuit Su.
It was a serious commitment for both parties, one that brought with it a lot of possible complications.
Such an arrangement traditionally also gave the master a level of unofficial leeway if not a touch of social authority over the student. It was unprecedented that the Prime would make such a request of him: a former Decepticon. Elita One's intense distrust instantly sprung to mind and he had an intense desire not to incur her wrath and he had a feeling accepting that role would put him at risk of doing exactly that.
Yet, as a Circuit Su master – at least within the private world of their shared martial art – Prowl was honor bound and could not just refuse or ignore such a request without good cause. Good cause related directly to the student in question, not any peripheral issues that might arise. Especially not from the Prime; who held the rank and authority to force the matter if he chose.
He suspected that Optimus was, in fact, there to force the matter.
"Be sure of what you are asking of me, Prime." He implored quietly, desperate for the Prime to reconsider.
"I am sure." Optimus said without even a hint of hesitation, his optics burning in their intensity.
Prowl did not back down either. "This will change our relationship in a way I doubt others will accept or understand. As little as it will be, if I agree you will be giving me even that amount of authority over you." Optimus nodded and Prowl felt his tanks churn. "But you are the Prime. That should not be."
"I trust that is a fine line you will be able to balance appropriately." Optimus likewise spoke quietly.
Doorwings twitching, Prowl took a moment consider his next words. "This is not a step you should feel compelled to take. I will willingly teach you without needing to officially usurp your original master's place."
It was the wrong thing to say, Prowl realized immediately, as the Prime jerked his helm up from where it had been bowed deferentially; his bright cerulean optics narrowed dangerously, the light in them flashing. It was enough to make Prowl dip his doorwings even before the Prime spoke.
"Master Tarratron has been missing since the Decepticons destroyed the Autobot training facility here in Iacon."
Prowl's vents hitched. He knew what was coming, and shuttered his optics as he braced for the accusation – an accusation he knew to be well deserved. He did not have to wait long.
The Prime took another step toward him, engine growling lightly with the intensity of the emotions underlying his words. "We both know who orchestrated that attack."
There was no anger in the Prime's voice – as Prowl just knew there should have been – only flinty conviction and determination. He did not step away, though he wanted to. He understood; the Prime was well within his rights to demand that Prowl personally take the place of his deceased master.
Prowl dropped his gaze completely. He would not take this fight any further.
Then he drew himself up and forced himself to meet the Prime's gaze before pulling himself together enough to offer a single, formal nod.
The lines of the Prime's frame relaxed even further and he smiled faintly before giving Prowl the traditional bow and, in flawless, precise and respectful tones, delivered the age-old words of a student requesting a master take them as their own.
Firmly suppressing his own misgivings, Prowl returned the bow and replied with the similarly archaic words of the master accepting the student.
Where the student's portion had been a request, the master's was a promise. "As you have asked, I shall be your teacher, your guide and your confidant on your journey toward mastery of this art, toward mastery of yourself."
They both straightened and looked at each other, Prowl battling his own roiling thoughts and the sudden emotions that threatened to make his processor ache, while the Prime appeared absolutely calm and collected.
In that moment of silence, Prowl realized that something intangible had changed between them and yet… nothing had truly changed. He would find a way to fulfill his personal responsibility to the Prime without overstepping his military standing.
Silently Prowl gestured to the mat in front him and was not truly amazed when the Prime stepped onto it with yet another semi-bow. Curious, Prowl did nothing more than look pointedly down at the mat again and was only half surprised when the Prime dropped immediately into a proper meditative position. In fact, the larger mech's smooth obedience to the briefest and most minimal of non-verbal commands threw Prowl off more than the silent order had phased the Prime.
Prowl blinked and, for the briefest of moments, thought he saw a hint of a small smile touch the Prime's lip plates at his reaction.
Giving himself a mental kick, he nonetheless acknowledged the brief expression with a tiny one of his own. Then he took a deep vent and paced around the now kneeling Prime, satisfied when the Prime maintained his alert yet relaxed posture.
"Circuit Su is about more than just fighting or defense. It is about focus and awareness." Prowl let his lip plate twitch upward. "But this you already know if you studied under Tarratron. We have sparred and we have practiced Forms. This time we work on awareness."
By that point, Prowl was standing in front of the Prime again who, kneeling as he was, was only a meter or so shorter than Prowl. The Praxian accessed the room's holographic controls and quickly input what he wanted. Instantly seven spheres came into existence, floating in the air throughout the dojo at various heights and distances from the two mechs at its center. Only an astrosecond after they formed, they sprung into motion, each one moving through the room on their own, random vectors.
"There are seven spheres. Keep your primary focus on me. Tell me when they are down to four." Prowl explained the exercise briefly. "Begin."
Prowl initiated the rather hastily written program and the various holographic globes started disappearing one at a time as they twirled and spun through the simulated dojo.
The Prime did not have sensory doorwings to help him keep track of the flurry of flying objects, but Prowl had not made them solid enough for even his doorwings to be much help in any case. Instead, the exercise was designed to force a mech to use his peripheral optical range, in conjunction with the highly polished metal panels making up the wall, to keep track of the objects.
Optimus must have done a similar exercise before for, though his gaze remained locked on Prowl's, no sooner did the fifth sphere disappear than the Prime nodded. "Now."
Prowl let his lip plate quirk as he nodded once. "Good."
He reset the program.
"Stand." He waited until the Prime was back on his pedes and then set the balls into motion again, though he added two more. "There are nine spheres now. You will start Form Fifteen. Stop moving and tell me when they are down to three."
The Prime blinked, perhaps surprised that Prowl had chosen a form two levels below the last one he had mastered. To his credit however, he said nothing.
"Begin." The orbs resumed their complicated and intricate dance as the Prime dropped obediently into the first stance and started flowing through the required movements and stances.
This twist made the exercise more difficult in that the observer was also moving relative to the orbs. It must have also been something the Prime had not yet had practiced.
He froze. "Now."
Prowl paused the program as soon as the Prime had himself frozen. "There are still four." He corrected softly, abruptly hesitant. For all that the Prime had requested he be his Circuit Su master, it was still an intimidating thing to so boldly correct the Prime.
Blinking, the large cobalt and crimson mech looked briefly around before releasing a frustrated vent. "Indeed."
Prowl found himself looking back into searching optics that somehow read him like an unencrypted data pad, though he could not read the Prime in return. After a long moment the Prime nodded acceptance of whatever he had seen and Prowl found he could cycle air more easily.
The tactician allowed a tiny smirk as he reset the program, sending the spheres spinning through the room once more. "Again. This time, use Form Twelve. Begin."
As the Prime's frame dropped into motion, Prowl spoke, coaching the larger mech through the exercise. The Prime managed to get it correct that time. However when he repeated it, without Prowl's assistance, he again missed it by one sphere.
It took three more tries before Optimus was successful and Prowl could tell it was frustrating the Prime even though nothing slipped that calm exterior. It was not until after the Prime finally succeeded on his own that Prowl called the lesson to a close.
Optimus looked at him askance and Prowl knew he had a question. When the larger mech did not ask it, Prowl realized he was following tradition and was waiting, trusting Prowl to sense his curiosity and grant him permission to speak. As small as the gesture was, it served to drive home to the Praxian just how serious the Prime took their relative roles within the discipline.
"Yes?" He asked the silent Prime.
"I do not understand why this was so difficult." Optimus wasted no time in framing his frustration.
Prowl gave him the tiniest smile and obligingly explained, inclining his helm respectfully. "Your awareness of the mechs you interact with, your ability to read them, is tremendous. This exercise was different; there were no matters of the spark or processor for you to manage. It was simply about motion and existence. It merely stretched your awareness in directions you are not practiced with. Once mastered, it will only add breadth to the depth of awareness you already possess."
Optimus' helm cocked fractionally to one side as he considered Prowl and his explanation. Then, almost abruptly, he nodded. "I see. Thank you."
Prowl allowed himself to release a vent he realized he had failed to cycle and returned the Prime's half-bow. "If your schedule allows it, I would like to revisit this exercise tomorrow."
This time the Prime cocked an optic ridge, though he dipped his helm in agreement. "Baring an emergency, I shall be here at the same joor I was this orn."
Prowl returned the gesture courteously. "Thank you, sir."
With the respectful nod and tone of voice and deferential words, Prowl tried to acknowledge to his Prime that he still knew his place in the true chain of command. It was a privilege and an honor to be the Prime's instructor. It was not something to be taken for granted, nor was it something he would presume upon.
… … …
Three orns after Optimus Prime had formalized their Circuit Su relationship, Prowl gained final approval – in conjunction with finally having a few spare joors to initiate it – to begin training the frontline response teams. It was time to iron out a training schedule and he believed that most of it could be done using pre-programmed simulations, at least after initial sessions. He stopped by the training room to finish writing the program he had devised for the task.
He was just finishing when a spark signature registered on his scanners. A familiar spark signature that resonated between two frames.
He froze, stiffening, waiting to see if they were simply headed to another training room or if they were coming to confront him. When they stopped at the door to the chamber he was in, Prowl knew they had come for him.
Prowl was far from intimidated as he turned toward the door and waited. He knew the Twins were nothing he could not handle: he had done so numerous times in the past.
Nothing happened at first. It was as if they were just standing there. Then he detected the telltale indications that they were hacking the door.
Prowl's lower jaw hung slightly open as he made that realization.
Curious, he took a nearly silent step closer, and then another, until he was standing just inside the door. The noises he was hearing were almost nervous and rushed and he belatedly realized they were also wearing dampeners and that that was why he had not detected their presence until they were so close. If he had not had the upgraded sensors, there was a real likelihood he would still be ignorant of their arrival.
They were not expecting to be caught.
Finding he was oddly amused, rather than upset, even knowing they were up to no good, Prowl chose to simply see what it was they were planning.
So he waited, arms crossed over his chassis, for whatever they were going to do.
A muffled voice – Sideswipe's – reached through the metal door. "Oh… he hadn't even locked it. Why wouldn't he lock it?"
The answer he received was the sound of metal striking metal and a muffled. "Duh!"
"What the slag? Sunstreaker!"
"Shut up! He's a doorwinger, you glitch." Sunstreaker hissed. "He'll hear you."
"Oh. Right. Sorry." There was a pause, then: "Well, here we go."
Overhearing that, knowing he was not intended to, Prowl did not move. He was, however, smirking openly by the time the door finally slid open.
Silver and gold mechs froze, finding themselves virtually chassis to chassis with Prowl as the metal barrier slid away. Coming face to face with their clearly not surprised quarry, they only stared for the span of several long astroseconds, optics dilating.
But the stillness was not destined to last longer than that before Sideswipe jerked backward, slamming into his twin, who over balanced, sending them both crashing to the ground. Together, they scrambled back to their pedes and started to dart away.
Prowl called out, his voice reverberating with the tenor of authority that his new rank granted him; the voice of an experienced Enforcer they had learned to heed even if they did not like. "Sideswipe. Sunstreaker. Halt."
They halted, as if Prowl's command had been directly input into their motor relays. They glanced at each other before slowly turning to look at him. Prowl watched them silently, examining their behavior and posture carefully. Their armor was flared defiantly, but their optics seemed more troubled. Sunstreaker's hands clenched into fists while Sideswipe shifted his weight nervously from front to back.
"You clearly had business here." Prowl intoned, his quiet voice intimidatingly flat. "Why don't you come in?"
Sideswipe glanced at his brother again. "Um… Uh, no, that's alright, we…"
"That was not a suggestion." Prowl's optics narrowed in warning.
Sunstreaker's vents flared, but Sideswipe looked at him suddenly. Prowl knew there was silent communications passing between them, especially when Sunstreaker blinked. Then the golden warrior looked sharply at his Twin. Sideswipe nodded once and they turned back to him. Prowl found he was rather disconcerted by their expressions.
Together, they moved forward and Prowl stepped aside and then closed the door behind them. They turned as if wary of having their backs to him. As the door shut, Sideswipe actually flinched before stiffening his spine. Sunstreaker's engine revved.
Prowl blinked.
He would never have believed what his optics were telling him. Not from the Twins of all mechs. But he had had plenty of experience in reading and dealing with behavior like this since he had defected. He knew the signs. The Twins were frightened.
Of him.
That nearly rocked him to his core, once more shaking his assumptions about them, softening the rigid flare of his armor just a fraction. "You went to a lot of trouble to get in here." He said neutrally. "Now you are. By all means, continue."
The two twins just looked at each other, almost as if in disbelief. Then Sideswipe stepped forward, a mischievous, if still tentative smile touching his faceplate.
"Hot plasma makes ice crystals grow on Ironhide's aft."
Prowl blinked, jerking back. "Excuse me?"
Straightening his shoulder guards, Sunstreaker stepped up to join his brother. "Energon made from organic mud is extra tasty."
Prowl frowned. "Energon is not extracted from mud. Furthermore, Cybertron is an a-biotic world; there is no mud here. Your statement is illogical."
They must have taken that as encouragement to continue, for they stepped toward him again, spreading out a few meters to presumably attack him from two sides. Prowl stiffened, but the only assault that came was a flurry of additional nonsensical and contradictory statements.
"Megatron's armor is cute and fluffy…"
"Up is down and all around…"
"Number one is the loneliest number that there ever was…"
"A liquid nitrogen bath makes me feel warm and cuddly…"
"The acid rain in Tyger Pax stays mainly on the plains…"
And so on.
Prowl's optics widened and then narrowed as the inane barrage continued. Initially taken aback by what was happening – his tactical computers trying to decide if there was a threat while his logic center attempted to make sense of the matter – Prowl finally realized that the Twins were acting as if their relentless attack of nonsense was their purpose there. Though what they hopped to gain by it was a mystery.
Perhaps they were malfunctioning.
After it continued for a quarter of a breem – some of the one-line quips becoming rather colorful in a way he never wanted Bluestreak to hear – Prowl simply raised an optic ridge. Deciding he had had enough of… what ever it was… he interrupted, his tone and posture the exact way it had been when they had started.
"Is something wrong with your vocalizers?"
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stumbled to a stop. Sunstreaker's engine revved unhappily, while Sideswipe cleared his vents. "Um… it didn't work."
Sunstreaker hissed at his twin and swatted him across the shoulder. "Obviously. Why don't you say something even more stupid that will make you seem smarter."
Sideswipe opened his mouth to retort, but Prowl cut in dryly. "You have both uttered enough stupid comments to last for a while." He looked at the silver warrior. "What exactly were you hoping to achieve?"
"Uh…" Sideswipe shifted backwards and, sensing they were going to try and run, Prowl remotely locked the door, encrypting it tightly enough even Jazz would have to work at breaking it.
Sure enough, they attempted to bolt for freedom, only to come up against unrelenting, reinforced metal. They spun back to face Prowl, open worry and concern on their faceplates now.
"You did not answer the question." Prowl informed them blandly, taking a step closer to them. Only to be taken aback when Sunstreaker straightened, shifting faintly as if steeling himself. Sideswipe did likewise.
"Do whatever you want to us commander. Whatever happens to us, they will know who did it and you won't get away with it." Sunstreaker spoke with a sudden surge of belligerence.
Prowl straightened, a glance at Sideswipe confirming he too expected something strongly negative from him. Reminded bluntly of their overriding fear that he would betray them and the Autobots, Prowl forced himself to ease his aggressive posture.
"I have no intention of 'doing' anything to you." He shook his helm. "I am merely curious as to what you were trying to do."
They stared at him, then looked back at each other. Another long moment of silent communication passed and then Sideswipe took a cautious step closer. "You… you aren't going to thrash us?"
Prowl cocked an optic ridge. "Do I need to?"
"Uh…"
"As far as I can tell, the both of you attempted to attack me with a prolonged volley of illogical nonsense." Prowl pointed out, cutting him off. "I do not see what is punishable about that. Unless… I have missed something."
Sideswipe snorted quietly, looking away. "You weren't supposed to be conscious after that." He muttered.
Sunstreaker reached out and winged him again, this time across the back of his helm. "Think before you speak, dimwit."
Sideswipe flinched and then looked at Prowl, optics wide. "I… uh… That is, I… um…"
While Sideswipe flailed verbally, Prowl's still spinning tactical computer took that clearly accidental admission and processed all the possible ramifications of what Sideswipe might have meant. As soon as it came back with the highest probability, he felt his frame heat.
"You expected that childish inanity to make me crash?" A hint of anger unintentionally slipped into his voice and Prowl only realized it had by the way the twins reacted.
Sideswipe ducked his helm, armor flattening across his shoulders, while Sunstreaker's vents flared and he stepped forward to place himself between Prowl and his brother.
Prowl saw their reactions and their well-concealed terror helped him regain control. He pulled in a deep cycle of air. And then another. "Why?"
"To prove that you aren't as stable as everyone thinks you are." Sunstreaker growled.
Prowl's vents flared. "For what reason?"
"Because an unstable tactician is a dangerous tactician." Sunstreaker stepped closer to Prowl. "You are a threat to the Autobots and we will prove it."
"Clearly you are wrong." Prowl contradicted.
"In this case, perhaps. That doesn't mean you aren't still a threat." Sunstreaker's armor flared challengingly as he stepped closer, but Prowl's gaze was drawn to the clearly nervous Sideswipe still standing braced against the training room door. The silver warrior was watching his brother worriedly.
Prowl realized then that Sunstreaker was attempting to provoke him, intentionally trying to get him to lash out. To hurt him.
Prowl's engine revved. "I am not going to attack you, Sunstreaker."
"Then I'll attack you!" And Sunstreaker leapt at him.
Not truly surprised, Prowl sidestepped the initial lunge, turning the blow aside with a swiftness only well-honed instincts could manage. Sunstreaker snarled and turned back to him, attacking with kicks and punches that had more in common with a street brawler than a trained warrior.
Sunstreaker had always been a mech who depended on blind aggression and ferocity rather than skill and tact. That had not changed since the war began, apparently.
It was almost absurdly easy to avoid most of the golden frontliner's blows, Prowl's thick Enforcer's armor absorbing the rest easily. Blind in his single-focused intent to elicit an answering rage from Prowl, Sunstreaker was almost careless and that allowed Prowl to find an appropriate opening just over a single breem into the attack.
With a frustrated growl, Prowl parried yet another blow and then darted in to sweep Sunstreaker off his pedes. A startled squawk was the only sound the golden twin made before Prowl drove him into the mat.
Sunstreaker continued to struggle for a moment but, realizing he was bested, eventually lay still. Worried engine noises from in front of him, made Prowl look up, his piercing blue optics freezing Sideswipe before he could try to come to his brother's rescue.
Realizing he was on his own and at Prowl's mercy, Sunstreaker wisely became absolutely motionless, even his vent's stalling mid-cycle.
"You have the potential to be a better fighter than this, Sunstreaker." Prowl spoke lowly, not releasing his hold. "But you let anger and fear blind you."
"I am not afraid of you." Sunstreaker spit back, snarling.
"Not for yourself." Prowl allowed tightly. "But you do fear for others. That can lend strength… or it can become a liability. I am not your enemy."
"You have always been our enemy. Back in Praxus…"
"Before the war, you two were criminals." Prowl interrupted sharply. "I was an Enforcer. But that is no longer the case. Now we are both soldiers in the same army."
Sunstreaker just stared up at him, optics hard, his frame still tense with resistance. It was Sideswipe who broke the taught silence. "Bro… I think… I think if he were gonna thrash you, he would have done so already."
Sunstreaker glanced briefly at his twin but Prowl nodded, regaining his attention. "He is right." Prowl paused. "Give me your word you will not attack me again."
Blue optics widened as Sunstreaker took that in. "What is my word to you?"
Prowl allowed an optic ridge to quirk. "You give me a chance to prove I am not a Decepticon traitor and I will give you two the chance to prove you are more than criminal miscreants."
Sunstreaker blinked at him three times in rapid succession then he nodded hesitantly, as if not entirely sure he could trust the proffered deal. Receiving that nod, Prowl released the vulnerable fuel line he had closed his hand around and, just as slowly, backed away and allowed the golden warrior to regain his pedes.
Once all three of them were standing again, Sunstreaker cleared his vents. "Why would you make such an offer?"
"We need to be able to work together." Prowl explained simply. "As a tactician, it is my job to place mechs where they can best use their skills, both to defeat the enemy and to support those around them as necessary. You need to be able to trust that I will not betray you in that position, and I need to be able to trust that you will be where I need you to be in a battle."
They looked at him closely and then looked at each other again for a long moment. Prowl waited patiently as they discussed his offer over their internal comms. Finally Sideswipe looked back at him.
"So… this is business – work related, I mean – not a personal arrangement?"
Prowl allowed a tiny smile. "Correct. I do not expect we will ever come to actually like each other. So long as you follow my orders in the battlefield, I will ask nothing so demanding outside of where our various duties cross."
"But you outrank us now." Sideswipe pointed out.
"You are not under my direct command, except during an actual engagement." Prowl corrected, worried that he might be making a serious strategic error here. "Outside of that, I do not expect anything more than common decency afforded any other mech."
They considered him silently for a moment, then Sunstreaker's engine revved. "This agreement is void if you betray us or the Autobots."
"I would expect nothing less." Prowl straightened formally.
They turned to each other for another momentary, silent consultation then looked back at him.
"Agreed." They said in unison.
Prowl watched silently as the Twins left him alone in the training room. Though he had gained the agreement he had solicited, he could not help but be uneasy about how simple it had been, at how easily they had acquiesced.
My thanks to RamenKnight for helping me with the Twins in this chapter.
Note: Apparently there is a Blades in the cannon lore… (thank you Bee4ever for pointing that out) my Blades is not him, at least not intentionally. If, by chance, the characters match up then that is just a happy coincidence... but I'll take all the credit anyway *Cheeky grin*
In consultation with Nikkie2010, all the kind reminders and requests everyone has shared and my gracious family and friends at home, I have decided to re-conceptualize the coming time jump. (Everyone can take a deep breath now :D) It will instead be a series of smaller jumps. This is better, yes, in that the story will flow more smoothly and have fewer holes. But, the down side is I now have a big chunk of reorganization and writing to do that wasn't in the original outline… including drafting an outline for the missing scenes so they all actually fit into the overall story and don't feel like random additions. It is one thing to do that with a scen or two within a single chapter here and there, but we are talking multiple chapters with no outline and no preliminary planning at this point so: for the sake of quality control those steps must be taken. Thus, this two-week delay or more between updates is likely to continue, at least until we are back to where my original outline continues. On that note,
I will thank you in advance for your patience. Likewise, I want to thank everyone for your awesome support of this story. You guys are the best! I am still taking requests, if you have a pressing wish or desire to see, by the way.