Author's note: This story was originally "The Praxian" by Autobot Chromia. She released it to Nikkie2010, who in turn gave it to me. Nikkie2010 is the beta for the story.
**Some material in this chapter may be triggery for some readers, child neglect and abuse. ***
The Praxian Chapter 2
Helm snapping up sharply, Flora's soft smile dipped down into a frown as the front door was flung open and a youngling shot in, the distant sounds of traffic permeating the silence of the front office.
"Back again, are you?" Her optics narrowed slightly at him, all the while forcing her voice to be nonchalant as she looked up from her reports at the taller form that followed.
The slender black and white Praxian youngling, almost running into the lobby, didn't look up, neither did he speak as he rushed past her and into the dubious safety of the orphanage itself with long familiarity. His drooping doorwings trembled uncontrollably on his back.
The dark blue and gold mech tiredly followed the youngling into the office, allowing the door to fall closed behind him, cutting off the sounds of the world beyond the orphanage. "I'm sorry." He quipped. "He's just not a good fit with us." His optics moved from image to image on the walls, each one showing happy, smiling faces, finally coming to rest on Flora's face before dropping down to her cluttered desk.
Rubbing her hand over her helm, Flora yanked the top drawer open and reached for some non-descript data pads in the desk. The other's optics followed her hand's path across the desk. "I have others that need homes, if you're willing to try again." She offered hopefully, her tone light despite the small, barely detectable tremble.
Hesitantly, he met her optics, then smiled slightly. "Yes… yes, I think we'd like to. Can you send a few profiles home with me and we'll let you know? We still would like to foster, just maybe one that is a bit… younger?" His optics flashed slightly as he looked down the brightly lit hallway that the young Praxian had disappeared down.
Nodding briskly, Flora transferred several other youngling's profiles onto a minimally scruffed datapad. "I do appreciate your willingness to try again. Not all younglings are a good match for every family. Sometimes it takes a bit of work to find the right one." Rising to her pedes, she handed him the data pad, practiced smile pasted on her face. "There's no shame in admitting a youngling isn't a good fit for your family," she said softly. "We'd rather ensure everyone is happy."
Smiling ever so slightly at her, the mech dipped his helm and replied, "Thank you for being so understanding." Carefully tucking the data pad into his subspace, he turned on his heel and made tracks out of the orphanage.
As soon as the door closed on the mech's aft, Flora's warm smile morphed into a frown, growling, "Frag it, Prowl!" Dropping into her chair, she picked up some data pads, shuffling them around her desk as her thoughts tumbled. She picked up several more data pads, scanning quickly through them before dropping them to her desk. The femme dropped her helm to her hands as she thought, staring sightlessly at the cluttered desk. The other potential families. There are no good matches. Rubbing her optics tiredly she debated, hesitated, then finally opened a much despised comm link.
"Yeah, Flora?"
"I have one for you. Praxian." Flora's spark shrank as she heard the coarse voice. The thought flitted through her processor that she shouldn't, that she should stop…but this was the arrangement she'd made to pay her mates gambling debts. No matter how unsavoury it was… And Blackout did try to send them to good homes.
"Really?" Slipknot's voice sharpened with interest. "I'll be there the next orn to pick him up."
"He'll be ready." She briskly cut the line. She swallowed and drew a deep vent, shoving her personal feelings into the deepest, darkest corner of her spark. That family was your last chance, Prowl. You really gave me no other choice.
Prowl onlined his optics. The old, familiar, white walls of the dormitory greeted him with its neat line of berths packed in tight to accommodate as many younglings as possible. Prowl slipped soundlessly from his berth. Slinking past the other recharging younglings, he skimmed over to a sealed window with bars over it. He touched the bars gently. They were supposedly to keep the bad mechs out – but Prowl knew the truth. They were to keep younglings in.
Escaping was the last thing on his processor, however. Where on Cybertron would he go? The sun rose slowly, brightening even the dim room he shared with the others. It's bright rays inching over the still silent room. In a few klicks this stolen time would be full of noise and brightness and everything else that was distracting and annoying.
"Good orn, Prowl!" A bright young voice came chirping out of the silence behind him.
Jumping with surprise, Prowl whipped around to stare wide opticed at the intruder, pressing his back painfully against the window frame. "Wildside!"
The pretty green femme bounced on her pede-tips energetically beside him, barely glancing out the window before focusing on him.
"Guess what I heard?"
"I cannot even begin." The doorwings spasmed in a strange pattern, trackable almost, if one cared to pay attention.
"Prowl!" they spun as one to see a black and rose mech striding toward them through the chaos of younglings getting ready for the orn. "You have an interview with a prospective adopter in 1 breem. Get cleaned up, now." he barked over the racket.
"Wow, that was quick." Wildside whistled softly.
Flinching back again, Prowl's doorwings, still twitching erratically, commanded Midnight's attention. "Stop doing that, you want to get fostered, right?" Not waiting for a response, he grabbed the immobile youngling's arm and hauled the stumbling youngster to the wash racks.
"Whatcha got for me, Flora?"
Frowning over her shoulder, she led the creepy orange mech through her orphanage, "I'll give you the details in the interview room. Primus, Slipknot, you could at least have put on some polish instead of looking like some Junkion." Her optics narrowed at the creature invading her space. She really had made a deal with Unicron's spawn, if this errand mech was anything to go by.
Rolling his optics at her formality, he dutifully followed her into the room. "Ahhh, such comfortable chairs." He drawled as he slouched into a hard, wooden chair.
Straightening her back, she shut the door firmly behind them.
"Here," She threw a datapad at him. "He's a first stage youngling, Praxian type."
"Really?" Slipknot straightened in his seat. "What's wrong with him? He should have foster families standing in line to get him." He raised an optic ridge at her, the corners of his lips tilting up as his optics scanned the datapad.
She cycled her optics. "He has issues."
Frowning, he flicked his optics up at her, "Can he work? Able to do manual labor?"
"Yes, and yes. He's a good worker, willing, and stays focused on a task until he's done. He just has personality issues."
"Well, that won't matter anymore." Shrugging, Slipknot leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, staring at the youngling's image.
"He untouched?"
Flaring her lightwieght armour, her face scrunching up. "Of course!" She shook her helm, then stilled as her expression blanked. "Wait…what!? How could you…?! To Even…suggest?" she sputtered.
Snickering he airily waved a rusty orange hand. "Oh, settle down, femme. He's worth more untouched than already broken in. And you know, just wondering if he had those kind of issues."
With a furious growl, she stepped away from him as a knock came at the door. Yanking the door open, she glared at the innocent youngling in front of her. "It's about time!" grabbing his forearm she dragged him to a seat across from Slipknot and pushed him into it.
"Slipknot, this is Prowl. Prowl, Slipknot. I'll leave you two to become better acquainted." Glaring at the obnoxious mech over Prowl's helm, she spun on her heel and with helm held high strode proudly out the door.
Prowl sat frozen in place, except for his doorwings which he just couldn't stop from twitching. The soft lighting in the familiar room once felt warm and inviting. Now it only felt cold. There was a small table and some chairs… He had been in here so many times before. A family would come and say they wanted someone, him maybe. They would take him home, the foster creators about as excited as a youngling with a new toy. Then, like a toy, he would become old. If not, they would find out that he was already broken and bring him back.
It was always the same thing over and over, Prowl thought as he considered the mech sitting at the table across from him. He was alone, which was a surprise in itself. He'd never been interviewed by just one foster creator before. The mech's offensively bright orange paint caused him to flinch slightly back, rubbing his optics. The older mech's red optics followed the movement.
Prowl jumped as the datapad was slapped down on the table. "Stand up."
Blinking slowly, Prowl considered the odd request.
"Stand up." Slipknot snarled, his armour flaring slightly as he leaned forward in his chair to glare at Prowl, optics coldly locked on the frightened youngling.
Prowl cringed back into his chair, staring wide opticed at the strange mech. Even his ever mobile doorwings paused, flaring slightly.
Slipknot rose and with one step closed the distance between them. Grabbing Prowl's forearm, he yanked the unresisting youngling to his pedes and pulled him to the center of the room.
"Stay." He barked.
Prowl felt a full frame shiver, from his helm to his pedes and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Arms down," came the mocking voice from the mech who was now behind him.
Slowly lowering his arms, Prowl shuttered his optics at the intrusive inspection. The odd mech wasn't touching him, but he was being studied as if he was some specimen displayed in a shopkeeper's window - from pedes to helm.
Slipknot grunted and tossed the data pad in his hands to the desk. "You'll do. Let's go." he grunted, walking towards the door.
"Yes, sir," Prowl mumbled, studying his pedes intently, this interview has been strange. Very strange. He swallowed as tendrils of nervousness wound around his tank. His little wings began trembling.
Slipknot snorted, and jerked his helm at Prowl, "Well, then, get a move on. FLORA!"
Flora stepped from around the corner, an irritated frown on her faceplates. "Must you shout, Slipknot?"
As the mech smirked at her, Prowl followed him slowly from the room, trembling.
Prowl looked up at Flora, his optics wide. His youngling armour was tight to his frame. Shivering, he hugged himself. "Should I get my things?" he whispered, dark, fearful optics locked on her as his field fluctuated uncontrollably against hers.
"Yes." She stepped away from the frightened field, the nervous stare. Her back to Prowl, she called curtly over her shoulder. "Hurry up." she spun on her heels, pulling her field in tight as she strode down the brightly lit hallway. Swallowing down her morning energon, her tanks roiling with self disgust. She would burn in the pit for all eternity for doing this, and she had no doubts that she deserved it.
Trembling, arms still wrapped tightly about himself, his last touch of her field feeling her disgust, Prowl slowly walked back to his berth for his few possessions.
"You have another host creator?" Wildside, again. How the young femme kept sneaking up behind him eluded him, but he had bigger worries. She flopped down on the Praxian youngling's berth as he picked up his few bookfiles, stuffing them haphazardly into his bag. He paused and bit his lip, swallowing. Cycling his optics quickly he dumped them out on his berth and then carefully sorted them to put neatly into his bag. He couldn't stop his hands shaking as much as his little wings trembled.
Wildside cocked her helm at him, watching with optics that knew too much for her tender age. "I can't believe you've got another host family already. Usually you're back for at least a decaorn before they have someone else for you!" She reached for the bag and carefully wrapped it up, making sure his precious book files wouldn't fall out.
Prowl's doorwings flared and shuddered violently in response, lips pinching tight together as he raised his optics to meet hers.
"Prowl? You going to crash?" Wildside reached for him.
"No!" Prowl swatted her hands away, "No, I'm not." He turned away, clutching the package close to his chassis.
"Well, don't go acting weird and mess this one up." Her tone grew serious. "You were with the last host family for only a decaorn. That has to be a record, even for you." Still scolding the other youngling gently, she wrapped her arm around the little Praxian and gave him a half hug… the only touch he would tolerate this stressed out.
"I know." Prowl whimpered, pulling away from her, from her touch. Her gentle field brushed against his in an attempt to calm him. "But that last family was very easily upset. And they argued all the time about the littlest things."
"Well calm down, or this one is going to send to you back too." She waved her hand at the twitching doorwings.
"I can't control them," Prowl answered miserably. "I know I should be able too, but I can't."
"Prowl!" Midnight strode over to the younglings. "Are you ready yet?" He crossed his arms, narrowing his golden optics at them and tapping a pede.
"I… Yes." Prowl looked up quickly from the old scuffed floor to glance at the mech's faceplates before dropping his gaze again.
Midnight clamped a firm hand onto Prowl's shoulder, "Come on, then, it's time to go," and leading him out of the room. Wildside trailed behind, as long as she could, waving her hand vigorously.
Prowl peeked over his shoulder one last time before he was taken from the dorm and offered her a little wave of his digits and a tiny smile. Then the door closed between them, separating them forever.
"Good bye! And be careful!" Wildside called after them, her young voice hard to hear behind the heavy door.
Clutching his bag awkwardly, Prowl followed the older mech down the long hallway. I wish I was old enough for a subspace. He fidgeted with the bag in his hands.
Slipknot was waiting for him in the lobby, leaning against the wall, watching him. His cold, red optics gleamed brightly as they landed on him.
"Ready?" He barked.
"Yes, sir," Prowl mumbled as he followed the older mech from the building, helm down and doorwings held low.
Flora held the door open for them as they left, "Prowl…"
He looked up at her, doorwings flaring as he hoped she had changed her mind about giving him to this mech. Please, his optics begged silently. Please don't make me go. His field brushed against hers, questioning and frightened.
Her optics hardened and her lips pressed into a thin, white line. Only the rumble of passing trucks on the street behind him could be heard. "Goodbye Prowl." she stated with finality and shut the door behind him.
"Good bye." Prowl stared at the closed door with his soft blue optics. The click of the lock catching echoed with cold finality in his audios.
The orange mech transformed and started moving away, pausing to glance at Prowl. "What are you waiting for? I don't have all orn! Let's go."
Blinking in the bright sunlight, "I don't have an alt mode yet?" Prowl whispered. What did this mech expect? He wasn't old enough for an alt mode. He shivered in the cool morning, doorwings flicking restlessly.
"Fine, get in." Slipknot groaned, opening the door to his cab. "We're going to have to fix that. I'm not going to be hauling your aft everywhere."
Doorwings twitched nervously, "I don't think that it is legal for me to have an alt mode at my age." Prowl stated clearly as he carefully climbed in.
"It ain't your job to think. You take orders." Slipknot snapped at him. "And lean forward! Those crazy doorwings feel weird in my cab."
Prowl leaned forward willingly for the entire trip, carefully keeping his wings from touching the mech's seats for almost three joors. Slipknot sped through the small town the orphanage was located in and through the countryside, the area around the roads becoming more developed as they travelled. They were heading to a large city.
"Is this Iacon?" Prowl asked curiously, peering out the dirty windows of Slipknot's cab.
"Yeah."
"Look! There's the Capitol Building, where the Prime lives!" Prowl chirped excitedly, pointing to a tall, sprawling complex that they drove past, down a busy road. He twisted to keep the building in sight, watching mechs and femmes scurrying to and fro, focused on their own business and concerns.
Slipknot just grunted as he wove through the dense traffic. "How do you know that? You've never been to Iacon."
"I read about it," Prowl answered excitedly. "And I have been to Iacon. One foster family had relatives here and took me to the museums when they visited."
"Humph. Well, at least you got a processor of sorts. Whatever." The mech continued driving away from the shining building, and away from the bright and clean streets. The neat and clean residential area melted away into tired and faded houses. The alt modes of the other mechs on the road with them became less shiny, less cared for. The road meandered past a Youth Center, and down a dingy street where several old, decrepit apartment buildings rose. Trash littered the streets and the gray walls were splashed with color as amateur artists and disgruntled youths graffitied their discontent.
"Get out," Slipknot growled at Prowl, pushing him out of his cab onto the curb as he spoke. Prowl pressed a hand over his olfactory as the putrid stench of raw sewage and mech fluids slapped him. Swallowing, he clutched his old brown bag tightly to his chest. He counted the windows of the drab building before him… 967. His racing spark calmed at the familiar pattern. His doorwings twitched, the faint hum of tires on the road behind, occasionally punctuated by the scrape of an undercarriage as the passing mech hit a particularly deep pothole.
"Come on." Slipknot grunted, leading the way into the building without looking back.
Prowl trailed nervously behind him, optics darting to the right and left. Hugging his pack tightly to his chest, he shivered, chilled as he passed from the warm afternoon sunlight into the shadow cast by the tall building they were entering.
"Who's this, Slipknot?"
With a surprised and very undignified squeak, Prowl jumped forward and straight into Slipknot.
"My youngling." Slipknot spat over his shoulder at the garishly coloured femme, shoving Prowl away from him with a low growl. He jabbed the elevator button.
"Yours?" She planted her fists on her hips, her lips twisting into a frown as she stood behind them. Her blue optics roved Prowl's frame as they waited silently for the elevator. Prowl studied the worn floor, his doorwings hung low and twitching.
"Yeah, Vibes. Mind your own fragging business."
With a pained screech, the elevator jolted to a stop before them. Slowly the doors opened. Prowl hesitated in the entrance before scuttling in behind Slipknot. The femme's attention drifted as she got onto the elevator with them, and Prowl vented in relief.
Slipknot jabbed the button for level six, while the femme reached over to push a button for 7. She leaned against the back wall and let her gaze return to him.
Prowl swallowed. He wanted to go back. He didn't want to be here. He darted his optics to the femme, who smiled sweetly at him. He tucked his chin and inched closer to Slipknot as the elevator began its pained assent.
"Get off me," the mech muttered to the youngling, shoving him off with his knee.
Scrambling to catch his balance, Prowl kept a careful optic on the staring femme. Primus, please let this thing reach our floor before it dies. Finally the elevator pinged their floor as it weezed to a stop and he scurried off after Slipknot, still feeling the femme's optics on his back.
"Nosy femme." Slipknot growled and complained about her all the way to his apartment. They stopped in front of a dark, peeling door. The number was '671B' embossed in tarnished brass. Prowl committed it to memory as the door creaked open. Slipknot ushered him in, slamming and locking the door behind him.
"Your room is over here, com'on."
Prowl stepped into the darkened entryway and froze, his doorwings locking up in surprise, then slamming down again. His olfactory detected a waft of garbage beneath the smell of mould and old, stale energon. Wrinkling his olfatory, he stepped over discarded cubes and pieces of cloth scattered around. He clutched his bag tighter to him, as if to protect his few worldly possessions from the contamination of his new…apartment.
"The kitchen," Slipknot grunted with a passing nod at the darkened door way, where presumably the kitchen was. Prowl could barely make out the form of a refrigerator and a pathetically small table and chair, pressed against the wall. "Here's the wash racks," Slipknot waved to dimly lit room. Prowl peered into the wash racks. A thin film covered the surface of the entire rack. A few gray clothes hung to dry. Prowl stepped back slightly, his little wings tucking close, so nothing would touch him with a faint grimace. Needs a thorough cleaning before anyone could get clean!
"My room," He pointed at a closed door, a few steps down the short hallway. And yours." Slipknot finished, opening the door to Prowl's room. "Stay out of my room if you know what is good for ya, hear me?" He finished abruptly.
Prowl nodded, keeping his field pulled tight to hide his discomfort.
"Good," Slipknot took a step to his door and halted. He vented heavily as he turned slightly and lifted an optic ridge at Prowl.
Prowl swallowed, not daring to move from where he stood in the hallway, dingy yellow paint stained with some unknown substance, as the older mech looked down at him. "There's energon in the kitchen. It ain't what you're used to, but it'll do until I can go get more." He jerked his helm back down the hallway. "Get some fuel and recharge, we have a lot to do tomorrow." Then he stalked into his room.
Prowl flinched as the door banged shut. Venting, Prowl peeked into his room. He flipped the light switch, the poor thing stuttering its way into existence. His optics flitted from one gray, moldy wall to the other. It had the faint odor of rooms long since locked and forgotten. It wasn't much a small room as a large storage closet. He vented and trudged in, checking the single berth for stains before placing his bag carefully on it. He eyed the shelf above the headboard dubiously. Would it be able to hold his datapads? Carefully taking his few datapads out, Prowl organized them by title on the shelf before laying down on the berth, optics wide and dry. He stared at the dull ceiling, too drained from the orn to rise and get fuel.
Jerked out of a light recharge by a loud banging on the door, Prowl stumbled to his pedes. The door flew open, banging against the berth and barely stopping from bouncing back and striking the mech in the doorway.
"Get up and come on." Slipknot growled. "We have an appointment we can't be late for."
Stumbling after the mech, Prowl hurried to keep up. "Where are we going?" he asked as he followed the older mech out of the apartment and outside into the cool evening. A soft breeze brushed against his plating, warmer than inside and he shivered, hugging himself.
"We're going to get you an alt mode." Slipknot snapped as he transformed.
"But I'm not old enough for one." Prowl's doorwings inched down, his optics widening as he dropped into the seat.
"Lean forward!" Slipknot barked.
Prowl jerked forward, taking his doorwings off the seat quickly.
"You just take orders, understand?" The older mech's engine growled as he merged with the bright streaks of lights farther down the road. "I'm in charge here."
Blinking owlishly out the dirty windows, Prowl watched as the headlights of passing mechs illuminated dingier buildings and streets the farther from the apartment they got. Slipknot pulled off before a shop that had seen better days, the color faded to dirt and windows cracked with bars over them. A piece of trash fluttered by to brush against the oversized pedes of two hulking mechs sulking in a nearby doorway. One of them smiled, flashing a sharp fang, glittering in the dim street lights. Trembling, Prowl silently followed Slipknot into the building, careful not to touch him but walking as close to the mech as possible. A short, squat brown mech with icy red optics came out of the back when the door opened, wiping his hands off with a dingy old rag.
"That him?" He asked Slipknot, with a jerk of his helm toward Prowl.
"Yep." Slipknot answered, shoving Prowl forward with a hard hand between his doorwings. Prowl flared his doorwings in an attempt to keep his balance and stumbled into a heavily scratched table top, the only thing keeping him from falling.
Snorting, the other mech seized Prowl's forearm as the youngling cringed back, "Come on, I don't have all night," he grunted as he began dragging the resisting youngling into a back room.
Prowl's field lashed out with fear and he looked back for Slipknot as he was wrenched into the back room, but the older mech had already left the building. Distracted by the abandonment of his caretaker, he yanked his attention back to the dealer too late. Belatedly realizing the pinch was a needle, he fell free of the older mech, darkness encompassed him as the sedative took effect.
"Hurry up!" The orange mech barked at the small pickup truck idling in the road behind him.
Prowl hesitantly started forward, feeling his fuel levels drop quickly as he drove up behind Slipknot. He focused on the dirty orange bumper, which was all he could see as they drove through the dark streets. Gasping in pain as he hit an unseen pothole, Prowl could only groan as he struggled to keep up.
"I only got one rule for you in this alt - Don't get caught." Slipknot snapped at him as they drove through the dark, ill-kept streets. "I ain't going to jail because of you." Slipknot finished darkly as he transformed smoothly before their apartment building.
Feeling exhausted, Prowl slowly transformed as well, and promptly fell to the curb, dazed.
"Come on," Slipknot waved impatiently at the youngling before disappearing on the dark threshold of the doorway.
Struggling to his pedes, Prowl whimpered, almost falling again. This is why it is illegal for younglings to have an alt mode… Prowl thought as he staggered after him. It drains so much energy.
"Slipknot, do you have him registered at a Youth Center yet?"
Prowl jumped out of his plating with a squeak as yet again their neighbor, Vibes, if he remembered correctly, slipped up behind them, studying Slipknot coolly in the chill light of the moon as they waited for the elevator.
"Why the Pit would I do that?" Slipknot cycled his optics as he grouched back at her. Prowl pressed his shoulder heavily on the chilly wall, out of sight of the cold gaze of the moon and lowered his optics as the adults snarled at each other again.
Vibes' sharp gaze could peel paint, "Someone notices you've got a youngling around that isn't going to the Youth Center, they'll report you. Then the Enforcers will come asking questions… You want that kind of attention, moron?" She snapped as they rode the elevator up.
"Frag off, Vibes." Slipknot growled at her as he shoved Prowl out the elevator at their floor. Prowl stumbled, catching himself on the wall with a crash.
"Maybe I better enroll you at the Youth Center." He stared hard at Prowl as they walked into the apartment. "Can't hurt." With a grimace, he shrugged one shoulder and turned away from the exhausted youth. "Go to berth."
Prowl, drained from transforming and driving obeyed without comment, slinking into the small room that was his and collapsed onto the berth. He laid there, curled up on his side trembling as he listened for Slipknot's room door to open and close. Venting deeply, Prowl whimpered and bit down on his wrist to muffle his sobs. Drained by the events of the orn, he slowly sank into a deep recharge, tears marking a winding trail down his face.
Prowl woke as the pounding on his door ended with it being thrown open into his berth, shaking it.
"Get up!" Slipknot barked, snapping the light on, before leaving Prowl to drag himself out of the berth to meet the harsh glare of the impatient mech in the living room. "You will get up when I tell you to, no lazing about." He put his hands on his hips and glared at Prowl. "You're starting school tomorrow, so come on."
Prowl silently followed the mech out of the apartment building. Grey low hanging clouds covered the sky and a soft, misting rain soon covered his armour with tiny droplets. He shivered, unhappily looking at the curb. Transforming, Slipknot growled softly, opening his cab door. "Don't get used to this."
Groaning with relief, Prowl carefully leaned forward so his door wings wouldn't touch Slipknot's seats, "Where are we going?" He asked quietly.
"This is the way to the school." Slipknot replied. "Pay attention."
Looking out the grimy windows, slowly being smeared by the gentle rain, Prowl tried to remember the route he'd have to take. They drove a different way than last night, the houses and apartments were better cared for this way and the roads much smoother than the ones he drove on last night.
"Is that the school?" Prowl asked softly, studying the sprawling building with a good-sized play yard with room to run around the back. It was surrounded by a tall fence, more to define the school's boundaries than to keep anyone in. Slipknot slowly cruised around it.
"Yeah," he muttered. After making a complete circuit of the school he stopped by behind a tall fence a few blocks away. "This looks like the best place," He muttered. "You'll drive yourself here for school, transform and walk the rest of the way so you don't get caught, hear me?"
"Yes sir," Prowl whispered, slumping back in the seat.
Slipknot drove them back to the apartment, "I got something to do," he grunted as he left Prowl standing at the curb, the cleansing rain falling a little heavier now.
Prowl stood out in the cool rain for a few klicks, watching the orange mech fade into the distance. He tilt his helm back, raising his face to the rain, as it washed away the horrors of the last few orns. Slowly turning, he trudged into the apartment building looming over him. For once Vibes isn't sneaking up on me. His tanks gargled and he realized he hadn't fueled for a long time. He went to the refrigerator in the tiny kitchen, carefully opening the door with his fingertips and trying to make as little contact with it as possible. The tired old appliance wheezed louder as he opened the door to consider the meager offerings within. Frowning at the cubes of energon, he carefully avoided the high grade and picked up one of the few cubes of cloudy blue fluid that looked like mid grade. Raising the cube to his optics for a closer look, Prowl shook it slightly and grimaced seeing the chunks floating in the odd colored fluid. With nothing else to drink, he slowly took a sip of the mid grade and gagging, felt the sour energon slide down to his tanks. Using his tongue to try to break up the solid chunks he sipped on the foul tasting stuff, tanks giving him an unhappy lurch and he paused to let them settle.
He gingerly sat on the edge of the dingy old couch and looked around. Unable to stand the filth that had accumulated from vorns of neglect he carefully picked up the old cubes of energon… The last dregs clumping and soured worse than what was in the refrigerator. After tossing the old cubes he neatly stacked the datapads scattered around onto the table and wiped down the table and tv with a rag he rinsed clean in the sink. Doorwings quivering slightly, he kept scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the couch when a heavy hand grabbed one of his doorwings painfully. Prowl shrieked with pain as he struggled to ease the tight grasp.
"What tha' frag you doing?" the furious orange mech spat in his cowering face.
"Cleaning." Prowl whispered, holding up the rag in front of his face and quickly adverting his optics from the angry mech's face. He pulled his fear laced field in, doorwings rattling.
With a sneer, Slipknot dragged the frightened youngling into his room and threw him onto the little berth. Grasping the younglings forearms, he leaned forward, pinning him on his back to the berth, pinching his doorwings painfully under him. His face so close to Prowl's, Prowl could feel his hot vents on his cheek.
He said softly, dangerously. "Don't touch my stuff." He released Prowl only to slap him hard across the faceplates. Rolling onto his side, to relieve the painful pressure on his doorwings, Prowl cringed deep into his berth, burying his face in the musty pillow, in a failed attempt to hide. "I won't, I won't" Prowl whimpered, curling into himself, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He pressed his vulnerable doorwings tightly to his small frame.
Slipknot cuffed the back of Prowl's helm, garnering a squeal of pain from the youngling. Then he stomped out of the tiny room slamming the door behind him, leaving trembling youngling alone in the dark. Crying softly, alone, Prowl bit his wrist as he struggled to make no noise. He listened, buried deep under the thin covers as Slipknot thumped around the apartment before going to his room. The heavy silence fell over him, crushing him, his vents stuttered as he finally slipped into a troubled recharge.
A harsh banging on his bedroom door woke Prowl from recharge the next morning. He lunged to his pedes and hurried to the door of his tiny room.
"Get up!" Slipknot barked, throwing the door open before he could get there again. "You're going to be late for school." Before he turned and stalked away.
"What?" Prowl rubbed his tired optics slowly, trying to force his processor to work faster. "How will I get there?" as he staggered into the living room.
Pursing his lips, Slipknot spun and frowned down at Prowl. "Drive yourself, just transform where I showed you so you don't get caught." he punctuated his words with sharp jabs of his fingertip into Prowl's shoulder.
Nodding his helm slowly, Prowl answered, "yes, sir." His doorwings drooped as he lowered his optics to the floor.
"Here's the directions to the school," Slipknot threw a datapad at Prowl, and it hit the cringing youngling's chest before falling to the floor. With a look of disgust, "Don't be late, and don't expect me to be here when you get back. I have work to do." He turned to go, then turned back with one final warning, "Don't let them see you have a subspace either," before stomping out of the apartment.
Leaning down to pick up the datapad, Prowl heard his adoptive creator leave, sharp voices of their neighbors joined his in the hallway before the door closed behind him. Doorwings trembling, he carefully studied the datapad to check the directions to the school before off lining it and tucking it into his subspace, then stood motionless in the middle of the living room, faint beams of light struggled to pass through the heavy curtains omitting almost all light from the window.
Fuel first. Gingerly Prowl stepped into the kitchen. Careful to touch as little as possible, he withdrew the last cube of mid grade, allowing the door to shut by itself. With a grimace of disgust he slowly swirled the liquid, It looks as bad as the cube yesterorn. Taking a careful sip and fighting to keep from simply spitting it out, he swallowed the questionable liquid. Gagging slightly as the old energon hit his tanks with an unpleasant cramp, he slowly drank the rest of the unpalatable fluid.
Spitting out an offensively large chunk into his hand, he went to the washrack to clean his hands off and neaten up before school. Pausing in the center of the poorly lit room he found the cleanest rag he could to use to clean the grime off himself. Time to go. Prowl carefully replaced the rag and cautiously left the apartment.
The bright light of the morning sun danced on his black and white plating as he transformed. Immediately he felt a large amount of energy drain away and sat at the curb for a click as the soft sunlight warmed his plating. With a vent he started moving, carefully following the directions he had memorized from the datapad. He left the dingy and dirty streets and dilapidated houses behind. The streets near the school were cleaner, and houses neatly kept. Transforming a good three blocks from the school in the little cul de sac that Slipknot had found, Prowl carefully approached the school, looking about to see if anyone had seen him.
He watched the creators drop their younglings off at the school. Watched them give their creations hugs and kisses before sending them off. For just a slim moment, Prowl let himself imagine what it would be like to have someone care about him. Shaking himself to clear the useless feeling from himself, he focused on the school as he entered it. It is not logical to wish for what I can never have.
Little doorwings suddenly flared before the mayhem just inside the school's door. I don't know where to go! Freezing and looking around desperately he only saw other younglings rushing about in a colorful, chaotic mass. His doorwings clamped tight to his back while he watched the rushing, unorganized crowd bumble around sometimes bumping into him in their frenzy to get to class on time.
A loud bell clanged and Prowl clamped his hands over his audios as the hallway emptied, except for him and another youngling. Venting heavily, squinting slightly in the bright hallway he peered at the silver mechling puttering up the brightly lit hallway as if he had all the time in the world.
"Hey, what'cha doin'?" The other youngling chirped at Prowl, cheerfully strolling over to where he was huddled against the wall.
"I am looking for my class." Prowl answered, optics dull but focused on the other youngling, the stress of the orns pressing on him.
"How old a'ya?" The youngling's blue visor flared with curiosity.
"Four vorns."
"So'm ah. Ya'll be in mah class." his cheeky grin split his faceplates in two. "Com' on." He waved Prowl to follow as he trots away. "Ah'm Jazz."
"Prowl."
"Nice to meet'cha, Prowler!" Jazz chirped as he bounced down the hallway.
Blinking in confusion, the young Praxian followed him, "excuse me," he caught the other youngling by his arm, momentarily halting him. "But my designation is Prowl," His doorwings flared and twitched.
"Ah know!" Jazz giggled as he pulls free, "Ma' nickname for ya is Prowler, Prowler. " He giggled again, running up the hallway. "Now com'on! We'a goin' ta be late!"
Cycling his optics at the antics and accent of the odd youngling, Prowl walked a little faster, he had almost lost sight of Jazz when he skidded to a halt in front of a door.
Jazz looked over his shoulder at Prowl with a wide grin. "Here we are!" He chirped brightly as he opened the door and danced in.
"Jazz!" a bright pink femme was standing at the front of the classroom, a long row of windows along the wall bathing the room and its occupants in natural light. "You're Tardy!" she glared at the unrepentant youngling.
"But Miss Coral! Ah found Prowler! He was lost." Jazz smiled innocently up at her.
"Prowler?" She repeated, brow creased and a frown on her pretty face, crossing her arms across her chest.
"My designation is Prowl," Prowl interjected, stepping around the lively mechling, lifting his doorwings slightly even as they trembled on his back.
"Ah! Hello Prowl, I'm Miss Coral. I have been expecting you." She lowered her arms and beckoned to him, smiling at Jazz, who was bouncing on his pede tips, "Thank you, Jazz, for showing Prowl how to get here."
Jazz's smile lit his entire faceplates.
"Now, could you two take a seat?" She queried gently, gesturing to the nearly full classroom, "And then we'll begin."
"Com' on Prowler, ya can sit next ta me!" Jazz yelled.
Prowl quietly followed Jazz to the back of the classroom, all the other younglings stared at him as he passed, doorwings twitching with all the unwanted attention. There was one empty desk in the very back row, right next to Jazz. It was a struggle to keep from falling into recharge during the class. The sunlight shining through the window gently warmed his plating. Jazz shifting restlessly beside him was the only thing that kept him awake. The bell rang loudly, and he was startled into full attention as small hands grabbed a wing and tugged on it.
"Ow!" Flinching, Prowl cringed as Jazz let go of his doorwing as quickly as he grabbed it.
"Oh, sorry, mech," The young mech stared at him in surprise. "Those a' sensitive?"
"Yes." Prowl's doorwings flicked, uncontrollable.
"Ah'm sorry. Ah got excited." Jazz looked down, shame on his faceplates.
"It will be fine." Prowl replied calmly, although this may be the first time somebody pulled on them not meaning to hurt.
"Com' on. It's lunch time." Carefully staying clear of those sensitive doorwings, Jazz loped off down the hallway, Prowl following close behind, walking as fast as he could.
Jazz trotted up to his locker and dropped off his datapad, taking out a cube of energon. "Ya know where yer locker is?"
Prowl stared at the light blue fluid in the cube Jazz held in his hand. I forgot lunch.
"Prowler, ya ok?"
Prowl jerked his helm up to meet Jazz's puzzled face. "Miss Coral gave me my locker number." he replied, turning to walk to his locker which was fortunately not too far away. He opened it, placing his datapad inside. Stepping back he closed it. His doorwings flinched back as he followed his energetic guide down the hall. But I couldn't bring what Slipknot had in the refrigerator.
Jazz plopped down in a seat in the cafeteria, and patted a seat beside him to indicate where Prowl should sit. "Where's yer lunch?" He inclined his helm to one side, staring at the doorwinger sitting beside him.
"I forgot it." Prowl blinked at him, his tanks cramping at the sight of the energon slopping in Jazz's cube.
"Oh. Ya want some o' mine?" Jazz holds out his cube, a cheerful smile splitting his faceplates.
"I- no, thank you." Prowl stared at him, optics wide. "I - I'll be fine."
"Ya sure?" Jazz frowned at Prowl, concerned. "Ah couldn't go all orn without lunch." He swirled the contents of the cube, light blue low grade shining in it.
"Yes." Prowl responded firmly. "I have gone without before. I will be fine." He settled himself in his seat and looked around the cafeteria. There were a collection of long tables and chairs throughout room, and many different ages of younglings clustered in groups around them.
"Um, ok." Looking down at his energon, Jazz drinks the cube down as quickly as possible before jumping to his pedes. "Com'on!" grabbing Prowl by the arm, he tries to drag Prowl away, but the other digs in his heels and refuses to budge.
"Where are we going?" Prowl raised an optic ridge at his rambunctious companion.
"Outside before class starts up and we're stuck inside again!" Jazz danced a little in place, sunlight from the windows catching and sparkling off his lightweight armour.
"Ok," Prowl takes a step toward his lively companion, as Jazz whoops with glee and hauls him down the hall and into the sunny playground, already teeming with other students.
Another loud bell ended the freedom of the playground; the rioting younglings rushed back into their respective classrooms. Prowl cringed behind Jazz, once again following the other through the crowded hallway, his doorwings trembled and he staggered when another student bumped him from behind. The mad rush begins to filter away as the others find their classrooms. Prowl and Jazz walked into the madhouse of their class and negotiated a route through their classmates.
Prowl dropped into his seat with a vent of relief, while Jazz sprawled dramatically in his seat. Rolling his datapad around in his hands, he giggled at Prowl. "Ya up for the rest o' the day?" He yawned hugely.
"Jazz!" Miss Coral's voice cutted through the suddenly silent room. "Pay attention!"
Giggling and rolling his optics, he chirps "Yes ma'am." And onlined his datapad to begin his work.
Prowl steadily worked through his questions. Finishing before the rest of the class, he quietly sits at his desk, looking out the window where clouds drifted past, casting their shadow over the playground as they travel to faraway lands.
"Prowl?" Miss Coral whispered, leaning close to him.
Startled by her presence so close to him his doorwings jerked and he pulled away, lowering his optics quickly to his desk.
"Do you need help?" Miss Coral queried, her field gently, reassuringly brushed against Prowl's, as she noted his reactions to her.
"No, Miss Coral," he answered, peeking up at her.
She nodded towards his datapad. "Are you sure? I can help if you're stuck."
"I'm done." He shrugged one shoulder half heartedly, still looking at her out of the corner of his optics.
"May I check your work?" Rocking back on her heels, she picked up his datapad as soon as he nodded his helm. Checking through it quickly, she blinked at down him. "Please sit here until class is over, Prowl."
Nodding his helm, he sat quietly at his desk until the bell rang, releasing him and the other students. They raced out, datapads flung at Miss Coral in their uncontrollable excitement as they leave.
"Good orn, Miss Coral," Prowl walked softly to her desk, placing his data pad precisely on her desk.
"Good orn, Prowl," tiredly she smiled at her newest student. "We'll be seeing you tomorrow.
Stumbling into the dimly lit apartment, feeling drained after his drive from school he came to an abrupt halt. Slipknot was home.
"Took you long enough."
Freezing to stare at Slipknot, he watched the mech take a sip of his cube of high grade as he sat in the only chair at the kitchen table, and stared darkly at Prowl. The old table he sat at had a single data pad resting on it. The chair creaked ominously as the mech shifted his weight. "Get some fuel and come here." The older mech gestured with his cube of high grade toward the fridge. "And bring me another cube." He tossed back the dregs of his and dropped it onto the table with a harsh clunk.
Faint bangs and thumps of their neighbors in the hallway opening the door to their apartment and going in, arguing the whole time covered the wheezes of the cranky refrigerator as it coughed, struggling to keep the contents within cool. Carefully opening its door, Prowl studied the offerings within. Along with several cubes high grade, there were several cubes of fresh, unrefined midgrade. He tried not to grab the cube, but it was hard. It wasn't the refined low grade he was accustomed to, but it was fresh.
Stepping away from the refrigerator and letting the door fall close, he clutched the midgrade to his chest and brought the other cube to Slipknot.
Those cold red optics studied him as the mech took the cube Prowl held out, hand trembling. A sudden bang on the wall behind Slipknot startled Prowl and he stared, wide opticed at the older mech. Slipknot just kept slowly drinking his high grade. Still trembling, Prowl tried to sip his midgrade, instead eagerly gulped it down. The cold red optics watched every move he made. His empty tanks finally stopped cramping as he took in the fluid, and they settled. Once finished with the cube, he walked to the small, little used sink and carefully rinsed out the cube before placing it in the trash. He turned to walk away, still able to hear the bangs and thumps of their neighbors.
"You're not going to school tomorrow." Slipknot said.
"Why?" Prowl asked, spinning in the doorway to look into the smirking face of his foster creator.
A dark smile stretched across his face, "I've got a delivery to make and you're going to make yourself useful." Slipknot frowned at the contents of his cube, sloshing it.
"Where are we going?" his young voice and doorwings rose with excitement.
"That ain't none o' yer problem. Get me another cube." He grouched.
Hesitantly, Prowl did as he was told, bringing another cube to the older mech and handing it to him. Slipknot took it and set it down on the table, before lunging to his pedes and grabbing Prowl where he stood before him, staring.
"Get to yer room now," He snarled as he grabbed Prowl roughly by his forearm and towed him to his room. "I'm tired of yer questions." He threw Prowl down onto his berth, "Make sure you get enough rest." Before stepping back and letting the door slam shut behind him.
Trembling at the unprovoked and violent response, Prowl curled up on himself, his door wings clamping to his back and bit down on his wrist to hide his sobs as he forced himself to shut down into recharge.
A loud banging on the door right before it was flung open startled Prowl out of recharge once again.
"Get up," Slipnot growled at him as he stomped off, optics hazy with his hangover.
Slowly rising, he walked toward the kitchen, noting that no light attempted to force its way through the living room curtains. Prowl went to the kitchen to retrieve his morning energon. Taking an energon cube out, he sipped it.
He still had a few sips left when, Slipknot stomped back in. "Here," he shoved a package in Prowl's face. "Take it and stow it in your subspace. Don't take it out or unwrap it," He grabbed a cube of mid grade and finished it in two gulps. "Hurry up," he barked, tossing the empty cube in the sink and headed for the door.
Prowl drank as he followed Slipknot out of the apartment, tucking his empty cube into his subspace with the packet he was entrusted with.
Outside the moon was sinking toward the horizon and there were a few red streaks heralding the sun's arrival. Slipknot transformed in a puddle
accumulated from last night's thunderstorm, the dawn's red light reflecting in it. "Get in."
Tiredly, Prowl obeyed. The seat belt wrapped around him, uncomfortably tight and he relaxed back. His optics shuttered and he fell into recharge as Slipknot's tires hummed on the road.
"Hey! HEY!" Slipknot swerved recklessly on the highway, trying to wake the youngling. Prowl's helm thumped against the seat, but he only slumped farther to one side, recharging on. Grumbling, the older mech settled into the long drive. The youngling's annoying doorwings rasping his seat with every twitch.
Prowl finally opened his optics to an unending road. Other mechs traveled with them on the road, some flying by at dangerous speeds.
"Get your wings off my seats." Slipknot snapped.
Prowl jerked forward, still staring out the window. The landscape rolled by, unchanging as the morning passed uneventfully. Prowl's tank rumbled as his fuel levels fell as lunch time came and went. Bored, he leaned forward to rest his helm on Slipknot's window. Prowl reviewed the lessons from class yesterorn, and wondered what the class would learn while he was away today.
"Where are we?" Prowl asked as he rubbed his optics, slowly booting up from his nap as Slipknot stopped beside some dilapidated buildings.
"Get out," Slipknot snarled, "We need to walk the rest of the way. Don't show that package to anyone, don't look at it." He snapped at Prowl as he shoved the youngling out to the curb and transforms. "Don't make optic contact with anyone. Don't talk to enforcers if we see any. Got it?"
Nodding his helm sharply, Prowl kept his helm down and field tucked in close, as he followed the orange mech through winding alleyways. Ominous dark clouds loomed, threatening another thunderstorm in the late afternoon sky. Foul odors and puddles of mech fluids diluted by rain seeped from rain formed puddles on the path. Grunts from two mechs, obviously interfacing in plain sight froze Prowl in place, as Slipknot stepped into the shadowed alley and snatched his arm, dragging Prowl in with him, smirking at the two as he passes. "You have to wear this the rest of the way." he holds up a blindfold.
Nodding slowly, Prowl felt the icy fingers of fear glide over his armor as the blindfold is pulled over his helm. Vision lost, the faint drops of fluid down a drain consumed him, the scrape of the mech's armour on the wall behind him… as they vented heavily… groaning. He felt Slipknot's hard hand pressing down on his soft armour and pull him along, stumbling.
"Pick up your pedes."
Prowl stumbled as his pede hit the first step and he fell to his knees, throwing his hands out to try to catch himself. Crashing to the ground, he heard Slipknot snicker above him as he struggled to rise, slipping on the slimy steps.
Gasping in shock as hands pick him up and throw him over a shoulder, "I don't want you making a mess in my cab," Slipknot grumbled as, shocked, Prowl remained frozen. Finally reaching their destination, Slipknot dropped him on the sticky floor and took off the blindfold. "Remember what I told you." He sneered at the youngling. "And clean yourself up." he dropped the blindfold onto Prowl's lap.
Prowl took the fairly clean rag and wiped himself off as best he could as he continued to follow Slipknot down the aisle to a nondescript door.
"What the frag?" a scarred blue mech shot to his pedes and stalked around his desk toward Prowl and Slipknot as he barged into the room without knocking. "A sparkling? What the frag are you doing bringing him here?" He shouted, hands fisted on his hips.
"Calm down." Slipknot airily replied.
"He could tell somebot, ya stupid fragger." The blue mech shook his fist at Slipknot, flaring his armour and getting right into his face as he yelled at him.
"He ain't going to tell anyone anything." Slipknot snarled back, snarling his engine warningly as his own hideous orange armor flared as he glared back at him. Spinning, the other stalked stiff legged back to his desk, to sit behind it as he glared at Slipknot. "He better not." He sneered. "Or else I'll take care of it."
"Now, now calm down, you're scaring the sparkling," A soft voice floated out of the shadows in the back of the room. A purple and mauve femme slinked out and sidled over to the blue mech, resting her hip on the edge of his desk and leaned back slightly, her hands braced on the edge of the desk.
"Where's the goods, Slip? Or did you forget it sparkling sitting?" The other mech laughed darkly as he smirked at the femme.
"I have it. Prowl." Slipknot smirked at the others and waved his hand for Prowl to step forward.
Gingerly taking the package out of his subspace, Prowl hands it to him, the whole time he kept a wary optic on the mech and femme.
"A sparkling with a subspace?" The mech laughs. "Clever. The 'Forcers would never think to search him."
Slipknot smirked at him, placing the drugs on the desk between them. "Not so stupid an idea now, huh?" He sneered, leaning forward and giving the femme a sharp look.
"Not bad, until he upgrades. Then what are you going to do with him?" The other mech leaned forward, checking the package Slipknot dropped on his desk.
"The slave rings. He'd make somebot a nice toy someday," Slipknot chuckled.
"You nuts, Slip?" The mech jerked his helm up to stare at him. "Blackout'll have your helm for undercutting him."
The femme slid off his desk and sauntered over to Prowl, ignoring the two mechs in favor of the youngling before her. Looking down at him with one hand on her hip which cocked out slightly before she slowly squatted down in front of him. Running her hands down his sides, they stopped on his hips. Her thumbs made gentle circles on his thin plating.
"He's a sweet little thing." She murmured as she leaned in, her soft vents brushing his face.
Prowl whimpered, unable to move as his optics widened, staring at her. Her hands were gentle and warm; her field brushed against his, inviting… But it felt so wrong.
She paused to purr, "I would love to train him for you," as she shifted her warm frame closer to his and reached out to pet a doorwing. "I love door wings...So sensitive…"
"Get yerr paws off him, Helitrope," Slipknot snarled. " I'll get more for him untouched than already broken in. "
With a soft frown, she pulled back, her attention on Slipknot.
The spell broken, Prowl spun and lunged for the door. He had to get out. He had to get away from these crazy mechs! Flinging it open, he bolted from the room as if a demon straight from the Pits of Unicron chased him…
"Frag! Get your aft back here!" Slipknot roared behind him, his curses soon lost in the twists and turns of the old warehouse cum offices.
His spark pounded with his pedes on the dirty floor, dim lighting aiding his escape as his running form was lost to the shadows.
Dodging down dark hallways and past closed doors, he finally stumbled, panting, into an unlocked door. It opened unexpectedly on him and he fell down the steps outside into a puddle of mech fluid on the ground. A sudden light flashed in his face startled him and he froze in the muck.
"Hello there," a calm, clear voice rang out. A chill wind cut through his light armour, his doorwings vibrated on his back. Darkness wrapped around them like a blanket.
Vents shuddering, Prowl stared wide opticed, blinded by the bright light that illuminated the darkened alley. The dark shadows were driven away by the clear light. It shifted to the ground, no longer blinding him and he sat up on his knees. His doorwings rose to frame his helm and stilled as he could only stare at the Enforcer coming quietly toward him. The overcast clouds hung low, the late afternoon sunk low in the sky. Towering warehouses darkened the alley even more.
Frowning, the Enforcer leaned down and helped Prowl to his pedes, field gently brushing against Prowl's as his all too knowing optics took in the scuffed and little frame, the gasping vents and frightened field fluctuating against his.
"Hey there," Helitrope's voice purred from the open door, and she stepped out, swaying slightly as she walked down the steps to stop behind Prowl. She smiled at the Enforcer. "Prowl, you're sire's looking for you, you better get." She grabbed Prowl's arms and pulled him away from the Enforcer, closer to her warm armor as she smiled flirtatiously at the Enforcer, then shoved Prowl toward the door with a firm hand on his back.
"Hold on now." the Enforcer stopped her with a hard stare, field no longer warm and comforting. "Are you all right?" His optics softened as he looked over where Prowl stood at the steps, armour clattering.
Feeling Slipknot's cold glare peeling his paint from just inside the door, he could only nod, doorwings twitching erratically. "Yes, Sir," he finally whispered "I only got a fright at…some other mechs."
"Now you git," Helitrope finished sharply, with a firm push to his back to encourage him to move before walking back to the Enforcer with a sway to her hips. "See, he's fine."
Helitrope pressing against the Enforcer's frame was the last Prowl saw as he was yanked back into the warehouse.
Slipknot yanked Prowl deeper into the warehouse as the blue mech shut the door behind him.
"Frag, Slip, that was close," he snarled as he stalked to them. "I told you that brat would be trouble."
"Frag off." Slipknot snarled in return, squeezing his arm so hard Prowl whimpered in pain as his delicate armor dented. Slipknot leaned in close to Prowl's audio. "Don't run off like that again." Prowl could smell the stale energon on his breath, feel his hot vents on his face, his angry field pulsed against his in sharp contrast to the calming field of the Enforcer's. "You won't like it when I get my hands on you if you do."
With that, Slipknot nodded his helm sharply at Helitrope, who slipped back in after appeasing the enforcer. "Thanks."
She shrugged. "You're welcome." and pranceed off where she smiled coquettishly at Prowl. "My offer still stands."
Slipknot snorted as he shoved Prowl away. "No."
"Good luck, Prowl.' She called after them. "I hope you get a better master than that afthole" she jerked her helm towards Slipknot, "someday." And with that, she slipped soundlessly down the hallway, following her master.
Slipknot snarled as they swiftly left the warehouse from another door. He blocked the door with his frame. Prowl cringed back against the wall across from him and Slipknot looked carefully around for Enforcers. Before he grabbed his arm and hauled him out into the street.
He transformed. "Get in."
Hesitantly, Prowl looked around the unfamiliar street. Light from the few street lights that still worked cut through shadows of twilight, throwing the frames and other unfortunates who endured the slums of this city.
"No one is gonna help you. Get in." His guardian grunted.
Suddenly a hard hand clamped down on his neck and with a frightened squeal he was forcibly shoved toward Slipknot's cab. "Need some help?" The blue mech laughed at him. Swallowing, he scrambled into Slipknot's cab.
Slipknot slammed the door shut, locking Prowl in. "Thanks." He said grudgingly before peeling out, leaving the other mech to laugh behind him.
Prowl shuddered on the seat, trying not to cry. "You can't do that." he gasped.
"Do what?" Slipknot laughed.
"You can't sell me." Prowl cringed at the waver in his voice.
"I'll do whatever I want to with you." The other sneered.
Sitting stiffly up, Prowl snapped "Miss Flora won't let you." with all the righteous innocence of youth.
Slipknot's dark laugh grated on Prowl's already frayed nerves and he melted back against his seat, lowering his doorwings and optics.
"Who do you think called me to come get you?" Slipknot paused, letting his words sink in. "No one wants you. No one cares about you. If they cared, you would have been adopted by now. But you ain't. So she called me to come and get you. You should thank me." He went on. "I should'a brought you straight to the sales. I didn't cause if I sell you myself I'll get more than just the finders fee. So you got more time before you're someone's toy."
Slipknot drove through the darkening gloom as the sun set and darkness crept over the planet like a cold blanket, snuffing out all the warmth before it.
