The Diego Diaries: Time (dd7 39)
=0=Prime's office, The Fortress, Autobot City about mid afternoon
He sat at his big desk tapping his digits on its smooth shiny surface. Work was before him but he was unmotivated. He wasn't drawn into the usual haze that fed into the Festival which was strange. He usually was even when he was in the universe away from even his closest friends. The Powers would always acknowledge the orn, though they seldom pulled him in unless it was dire.
He considered the afternoon and the orns to come as his optics drifted to the desk drawer next to him. He stared at it, then pulled it open, taking out a data pad used for reading that he kept there. He grinned slightly, then tapped it. A publication appeared that he had kept, including downloading it to his own personal internal files.
Sitting back, he stared at the cover of a magazine that was saved on the screen. The cool optics of Prowl staring at the reader stared at him, their blue depths unknowable, sometimes even to him, though Prowl hid nothing from him. His body from the waist up was juxtapositioned onto a white background with black lettering for the title of the story inside.
"The Enigma of Prowl".
Prime grinned, then tapped the screen again. The story opened. A picture of Prowl standing at the command table staring at his data pad, the fat oversized one that was his 'work bible' topped the text. All around Prowl bots were working but they were blurred as if walking so fast they stepped out of sync. Prowl was the only one in the image that was clear.
Prime grinned again. The image was his own, taken when Prowl wasn't looking. He liked experimenting with images, some of which included his children and other family members. His favorite images of Prowl were when he wasn't aware that he was being filmed. Like this photo. He'd given it to the reporter because he thought that it represented Prowl perfectly. Even in the midst of chaos, his serenity and focus was unruffled.
Except for that time when Black Shadow entered the system and he dumped the table.
Then those other times including the several where he threw things at Prime when plans were changed without his input.
Those times.
He snickered, then began to read the text again.
It was mid day or orn as the bots call it and Prowl was in his element. There were a thousand important issues underway and many hundreds more that required his attention. It was that way most days in the Operational Center at Autobot City on Mars. Prowl of Praxus, second-in-command of the entire operation, bond to the Prime of Cybertron, himself a ruler of nearly 20 planets and the father of a number of children was making the wheels turn.
His skills as a warrior are legend, his intellect famed. There is a 'capture, not kill' order on him by Megatron himself during he war. Yet among all of the Cybertronians that are well known on Earth, Prowl of Praxus is an enigma. Very little is known beyond his cool demeanor, his brilliance and his calm even under great stress. Who he is as an individual is unknown.
According to the record, he was born or 'separated' in the city-state capital called Praxus. It was the cultural, educational and scientific center of Cybertron and his family embodied those attributes for generations. His family was also high caste, almost unfathomably wealthy and fast tracked toward whatever they wanted to do.
"In our life, there was only the expectation that you did what you were told, attended to those things that advanced and supported the family and raised your children the same way," Venture of Praxus, Prowl's father said in an interview in his office in the Martian city of Terra. He is the Chief Economist and Economic Planner for the Empire. "We were living a straight jacketed life in our caste and as time passed the rules and sense of acceptable behavior became set in stone. That made any deviation forbidden and it was hard on someone like Prowl.
"That's what made Prowl so admirable. He never accepted that and he rebelled against it all his life. When he was old enough to go to university, he told us that he wasn't going to be a mathematician like his ada. (Other father) He was going to be a police officer and when he was through, the 'big shots' would all be in jail. We were mystified how to respond."
Prowl grew up in Praxus, a beautiful city and had all of the benefits that someone of his caste could have handed to him. He attended the best schools, had a big house on the shores of the Sea of Mercury, a three story apartment house in Praxus and homes elsewhere. He was given every opportunity to learn and was accelerated in school due to his profound intellectual capabilities.
"We would go to parties with Prowl and he would sit by himself with a glower," Miler of Praxus, Prowl's other parent said with a chuckle. "We had no idea what to do with him. He would sneak out of the apartment to go wandering in the city, haunting the areas where inequity was found." Miler became quiet a moment. "We didn't know better. We didn't see what was happening. It's a limp explanation for all of it but it was true. Until our son began to really rebel, we never had a clue."
He grinned a moment. "I'm told that Prowl if he were human would be a bit on the Gothic side."
Prime paused the data pad to take a call, grinning at Miler's comments as he did. Then he began again.
"I think during the entirety of his life, every picture we have of all of us together includes Prowl grumping. He always looked angry. I have albums of him growing up and he's always doom and gloom. We're smiling like idiots but he's there like a wilted flower."
Miler chuckled. "I'm very proud of my son. He always knew who he really was. I can't say the same about Venture and me."
His office is in the 49th floor of the Autobot City Medical Center. He is the chief medical officer of everything in the empire and the Prime's trusted ambassador on all diplomatic ventures. Ratchet of Iacon is also a very close friend to Prowl. Their antics during sporting events and close working relationship is legendary. They are also related through the bonding of Ratchet's sons, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to Prowl's son, Bluestreak. They share grandchildren and laughs.
"What is he really like? He always seems so proper and controlled."
Ratchet grinned as he thought a moment. "Prowl is and he isn't. He's really the smartest bot I know and I know oceans of them. He's brave and can plot a battlefield, everyone on it, seven moves that each enemy soldier can make together and independently and how to defeat everyone even if there's hundreds of soldiers there in three seconds.
"He's decent, our Prowl and he's one of the greatest martial artists anywhere. He grew up in a highly controlled caste in a town that was elegant and demanding. His education was the best. His sense of honor and tenacity about making things right and good is unshakable. When you get on Prowl's shit list, you're on it forever."
"What about the parts that don't get seen much? The family man, the sports fan, the friend? I heard that you and Prowl have epic nights on the town."
Ratchet grinned. "We do. There's nothing like when a buttoned down individual loosens their girdle a bit. Prowl is fun and funny though half the time I don't know if he knows that. We have fun together, he and I are related. He's a dedicated parent and really religious. All in all, he's putty in my servos."
Its evening and the shift is about to end. Prowl is handing over things to the night crew. Walking to the door that opens into the Senior Autobot's office wing, he walks to his office to gather up to leave for home.
The office is big, comfortable, jammed with electronics and data pads. He clears his desk. "I suppose you want to ask questions about this and that?" he asks.
"We would like to know more about you. We see you all the time and have heard you at conferences. There are those that say you're the brick wall that has to be hurdled to get to Prime. Others say you're the most interesting person they know. All say that you're a bit on the mysterious side."
Prowl stared a moment, then pulled out his chair to sit. "That's interesting. Who are 'they'?"
"Everyone who knows you."
He thought a moment and as he did, he stared at me with his unblinking gaze. It was uncomfortable even as standing here talking to him was not.
"I have been trained to be proper in my conduct on duty. As for the rest, that is the real life. The one we never expected to get. I realize that we don't meet even a little bit what you expected aliens to be. That's the great mystery of the universe. Yet here we are with our families, our tech and our 'alien ways'.
"You find in us strangeness but also a lot of commonalities. We have families, we love our children, we work hard for our elders and infants. We build a new life for everyone where everyone is equal and no one is left out. We fight for us and we fight for you. If you would spend half as much time looking for common points of agreement as you did in finding differences, all would be much better everywhere."
He sat back. "I am the brick wall between everything and everyone and Optimus Prime. He's more than just a mech, or my mech. He's the symbol of our people, the link between us and our deities. He's simply the best mech I ever met and there's nothing that I wouldn't do to assist or protect him."
"You have a family. Tell us about that, within the bounds, of course."
Prowl grinned.
It has been amazing living here among the bots to notice how relatable their looks are. Prowl by definition is handsome. It's easy to see even for a human. So is Optimus Prime.
Prowl thinks a moment, then leans forward slightly. "We've gone eons of time, oceans of it without seeing children. We almost forgot what they're like. Now we have time to have families, some of us bringing them out of hiding to flee here. Megatron had death orders on families. He never did like distractions." He sat back regarding me with an appraising look. "There is nothing too hard or odious, nor dangerous or impossible that we wouldn't do for our people, especially our children.
"We have in my family several children, four little boys and two girls to use your vocabulary, as well as numerous grandchildren. They were never expected. Most of us never expected to live this long or find a place that was safe and peaceful where such ideas could be entertained. Now we do. Three of our sons are adopted orphans. We have a home that is sacrosanct and we work hard at being good and attentive parents. Its our greatest and most sacred obligation."
"You have many skills. You have a heavy work load. All of it points to a dignified and proper mech. Yet you're hilarious during the football games with Ambassador Ratchet."
Prowl grinned, then nodded.
All of his movements are economical but that could be from his legendary unwillingness to stand out in a crowd. He's the power being the throne and that's where he prefers to be.
"Ratchet is from Iacon and Iaconians besides being legally insane like to make spectacles of themselves during games. Praxus doesn't. We have standards below which we won't fall. I enjoy beating on the Ambassador. It's part of the game or so he tells me."
"Can we expect this to continue? There are only three more games for the basketball season, two of them the playoffs and then the championship?"
Prowl leans in closer. "Count on it." He leaned back. "Iacon will win. Optimus Prime will be the champion of the world. I am Prowl. I countenance nothing less."
Optimus snickered as he paused the data pad, then put it into the desk drawer. The door opened as Prowl walked in with his big fat data pad once more.
"I've taken all the messages and routed them. Are you ready to go?" Prowl asked as Prime slid the drawer shut.
"I am now," Prime said as he stood. He grinned. "Are you?"
Prowl smirked slightly. "I was born ready."
With a chuckle, they walked out the door to head for home and a snack before the siren sounded in just six joors.
=0=TBC 7-16-19