What's Wrong with a Little Destruction?
The Wreckers
The continuing awesomeness of IDW's top strikeforce!
Note: Requested by VAWitch. Takes place not long after Jazz versus Wreckers.
Also Note: Wow, that last chapter had, hands down, the most replies of the series! (can feel the jazz love) This chapter was set to go up in a couple days but after those responses I decided to toss it up earlier.
Request: Prowl versus Springer
"Which, if not victory, is yet revenge."
-John Milton
Springer stood in front of Prowl's desk, jaw set, shoulders rigid in a parade rest that just thrummed with ire. Prowl carefully hid his vast amount of amusement at the obvious impatience enhanced all the more with bright pink paint.
"You do realize this is a very serious incident, don't you?" He asked calmly, not getting- or expecting –a response. "Having eight mechs- all of fairly large stature –charging around haphazardly, yelling out threats to a ranked officer and generally causing all sorts of havoc is a big security issue." Prowl folded his immaculate white hands on his desk. "You're very lucky that not only has your team been called for a mission, but that no one has gotten hurt. This will be dealt with upon your return."
"Understood." Came the deep, angry rumble.
He couldn't help it, doorwing twitching in faint amusement and Prowl just had to add, "I don't know how you thought you'd be able to catch Jazz. Not even our top three trackers working together can catch him when he doesn't want to be."
That thousand mile stare turned into a glare as Springer's optics narrowed on to the tactician. "If that's all," he said tightly, "we're going to hit the washracks and get on our way."
"Of course." He waited until Springer was two steps from his door before he said, "You do realize that the officer's washracks are closed for maintenance, correct?"
The triplechanger rocked to a halt and slowly twisted to view Prowl with an unamused expression. "The enlisted washracks are fixed, aren't they?"
Prowl canted his head and said in a perfectly level and serious tone. "But you're an officer."
"…" Said Springer. "I am also covered in paint. And we don't have time to refill Xantium's washracks."
"Nevertheless, unless it is an emergency," he continued smoothly, "officers should not be using enlisted facilities. Protocol dictates-"
"Don't-" Springer cut himself off, hands raised like he wanted to strangle something at that moment. "Don't," He said in a forcefully more level tone, "cite your slagging protocols at me right now."
Raising an optic ridge, Prowl complied, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. Springer glared right back before turning around. "Fine. Whatever."
"And Springer," he just had to add, "be sure to deal with those paint splotches before your return or I'll have to add being out of regulation appearance to your list of offenses."
Tight, strangled noises came out of Springer's vocalizer as he stood, shoulders high, head down, trying to keep himself from whirling around and launching himself at Prowl. Finally he half-turned and sneered darkly at the other mech. "I hate you so much right now." He stalked off swiftly before his self control snapped.
The door slid shut and Prowl waited until the sound of heavy stomps faded before he braced his chevron against a hand finally allowed himself to laugh.
Oh, he owed Jazz big.
Okami: You're not the only one surprised that I can keep this up XDD
Tecuma: Lucky! D: I haven't had the chance to get to a comic book store yet!
Cafe: You better have a fast shutter speed then, because the second that chisel touches him, I'm in the next hemisphere.
Everyone else: Thank you so much for your responses! I'm glad you liked that last chapter so much!
