Many thanks to Niki2010, my beta. Updates may be slow, as real life has unfortunately interfered with posting.
Chapter 4
Exhausted by the drive home from school, Prowl let the apartment door fall heavily shut behind him, only to be greeted by a low growl before he could go any farther. He froze, optics wide and vents stalling as he stared at Slipknot. The mech sat at the small table by the ancient refrigerator and stared stonily at him.
The orange mech rose and stalked to the trembling youngling. "Do you have it?" His cold red optics drilled holes through Prowl as his sullen field brushed against Prowl's fearful one.
Prowl pulled back slightly as he took the datapad out of his subspace, his hand trembling as he held it out.
Slipknot smirked as he snatched it away and quickly checked it. "Here," he hissed venomously, as he shoved it back at Prowl. "Don't drop it." He snapped as Prowl fumbled putting it back into his subspace. "Come on, I have an appointment I'm late for." Slipknot grouched grabbing Prowl's shoulder roughly and shoving him back out the apartment door.
Prowl shivered despite the warm air as he climbed slowly into Slipknot's cab, careful to keep his twitching wings from touching the seats and braced himself as Slipknot suddenly lurched forward, screeching into the roadway and merged with the slower traffic meandering through their neighborhood. He peered curiously out the windows as Slipknot turned in the opposite direction of his usual haunts and drove quickly toward the more prosperous parts of Iacon. Prowl craned his helm, trying to see everything as they passed the Iacon Museum Campus, where the Art Museum, School of Music and Art, the Grand Symphony Hall was… and the Prime's Palace. The orange mech drove way too fast, weaving recklessly through the heavy traffic, others honked or cussed him out as he passed.
They passed the elaborate neighborhoods of the wealthy that lived on the edges of the Prime's Palace which quickly transitioned to storefronts. It didn't take long before they were passing huge, sprawling warehouses. The road they were on widened as it passed under a traffic laden bridge, and they now shared the road with heavy freight haulers and other industrial alt modes. Prowl excitedly leaned forward, risking bracing his hands against Slipknot's door frame as they passed through the sprawling shipyards just as an enormous transport, hull pitted from its travels through foreign lands slowly came in to dock. Engines howled as it settled heavily onto the ground, fighting the relentless whim of gravity that wished to slam it into the ground and shatter it into broken pieces. In the distance a behemoth of a transport lumbered into the sky, engines howling as it climbed steadily into the thin atmosphere.
Slipknot passed more warehouses, finally turning down a road between two of them, on the outskirts of the warehouse district. The vast stretch of undeveloped countryside spread out just beyond the last warehouse. Truckformers passed easily between the warehouses. There were several dozen loading platforms for them to backup to, as several were now. Unloading or waiting for their loads to be packed on.
Slipknot ignored the activity, expertly dodging between the huge trucks before coming to a stop by the last platform. He opened his door, and Prowl slipped out. The acrid stench of fuel from the huge shuttles transporting goods across Cybertron stung his olfactory; even the breeze could not completely cleanse the scent from the heavy air. As he followed Slipknot to the warehouse, Prowl could hear the workers within shouting to one another, clanking and crashing as they moved goods around on the trucks they loaded and unloaded.
Slipknot sauntered up to the door and opened it, Prowl slithering in on his heels, door wings flickering as he tried to hide behind the older mech as they entered the brightly lit entrance room. Two huge forms rose to their pedes from where they sat at a table and lurched toward them. The red and blue one on the right flashed his sharp teeth in greeting. The other flared his black armor as he slowly cycled his weapon as he focused on Prowl's guardian.
"Bludgeon wants to see me," Slipknot said importantly.
The big black mech snorted disdainfully. "A rodent followed you in." he responded, optics locked on Prowl. His partner smirked beside him, as he slowly unspooled a cable from the datapad in his hands.
"He's mine." Slipknot sneered as he held out his arm allowing the cable to be plugged into a wrist dataport, submitting to the scan.
The guard popped the connection out, smirking, as Slipknot hissed in pain and rubbed his wrist port, lips curling into a sneer.
"Him next," the red guard snapped and jerked his helm at Prowl.
Prowl fearfully cringed back against the wall, trying to hide behind the dubious safety of Slipknot's legs. But his guardian stepped away and grumbled, "Get over here," as he reached back and grabbed Prowl's thin forearm armour, digging his claws in painfully as he dragged him forward.
Prowl whined, leaning away from the big black mech who loomed over him. "Hold him," he grunted as Prowl began to squirm frantically, his little door wings slashing uselessly in the air. Slipknot yelped when Prowl landed a lucky kick on his sensitive shin guards. With a faintly amused look, the red guard lifted Prowl up in the air as he continued to twist and kick frantically, and firmly pinned him against the wall. Uncomfortably squished between the dingy grey walls and the guard's heavy frame, Prowl felt his door wings squeezed painfully and whined in pain. The guard's rough field pressed uncomfortably against his own, annoyance plain.
"Hold still, brat." the black mech grunted as he twisted Prowl's helm to one side and shoved the plug into the only port on a youngling's frame, the medical port at the base of the neck.
Prowl froze instantly with the foreign contact. Vents stalled as the program wound its way into his young, unprotected processor. It scanned him coldly, then left. But not all of the programming left with it. One stray piece of code, easily destroyed by an adult's firewalls and defenses, settled in his vulnerable processor.
The substantial mech pinning him to the wall stepped back, and Prowl dropped limply to the floor. He lay there, wheezing, as he struggled to bring his vents under control, sensitive door wings pinned painfully under him. His optics dimmed, and the scars on the floor blurred.
"Get up," Slipknot groaned, aspirated, as he looked down at the little Praxian laying limply at his pedes, and nudged him roughly in the back with the tip of his pede.
Prowl groaned as the pede tip pressed painfully into his vulnerable door wings and he struggled to his knees, shoulder pressed heavily into the wall for support. He raised a hand to his helm, as the world spun crazily. Something… odd… was happening deep in his processor.
Slipknot impatiently grabbed Prowl's forearm, dragging the unresisting youth to his pedes and down the brightly lit hallway with him. Prowl tripped over his own pedes as he tried to keep up. He squinted, lowering his optics as the light in the hallway shone uncomfortably bright. Trembling, he stumbled to a halt when Slipknot stopped.
"Give me the datapad."
Prowl stared at the older mech… his voice echoing as if it traveled a long way down a thin hallway. He struggled to comprehend what Slipknot wanted from him. The world shifted madly, the ground beneath his pedes unstable, as the older mech shook him roughly.
"The. Data. Pad." He spat into Prowl's faceplates.
Understanding his guardian's request at last, Prowl pulled the datapad from his subspace. His hand trembled violently as he handed it over, almost dropping it. Slipknot rolled his optics. Prowl raised a trembling hand to wipe the spittle from his face.
"What is this, Slip?" A sharp voice asked from behind them. Prowl wobbled in place, doorwings sagging and for once falling completely still on his back.
"My youngling." Slipknot replied guardedly as he turned toward the approaching mech. "I have to see Bludgeon, but I can't take him with me. Do you have a holding pen free?" He asked with an unpleasant smile.
The gray mech narrowed his optics at Slipknot. "Yeah. I have one open." He turned to the big brown mech that lurched over at his comm. "Take him to Pen 56." He jerked his helm toward the trembling youngling who wilted beside Slipknot and frowned at his condition, optics gliding over the slight frame with disdain.
The guard grunted in response and grabbed Prowl, dragging the frightened youth deeper into the complex, past other pens, some full, some not. Prowl's optics were hazy, unfocused and he staggered as he struggled to keep his balance under the rough handling.
He was unceremoniously shoved into an open pen, barely tall enough to stand in, and only as wide as his arms could reach. He crumbled onto the cold, hard floor. Prowl curled into a ball, his doorwings pulled in close to his back. He hugged his knees to his chest and whimpered softly even as he shoved his fist into his mouth to silence himself. The spinning world slowly settled as he lay there, the dim lights of the slave pens helped his over sensitive optics settle. He vented slowly as the cold floor pulled the heat from his frame, shivering even as his systems labored. His core temperature tried to rise despite the chill.
"Get up." Slipknot hissed at Prowl as he nudged him painfully with his pede.
Processor muddled by his nap, Prowl blearily looked up at the orange mech and reset his optics as he tried to get up. Hanging onto the bars of the pen, feeling very wobbly and terribly uncomfortable, he staggered after Slipknot uncomplaining. Crawling into the older mech's cab, he soon slumped back in the seat and fell into a restless recharge, much to the older mech's annoyance.
Slipknot opened the door and shoved the recharging youngling out of his cab. Prowl landed in a puddle of… something… and clumsily tried to rise only to fall back to sit on the curb, pedes still in the puddle.
"I'm going to get a drink," He snapped at Prowl, ignoring the forlorn look he was given and swiftly drove away.
Prowl lurched to his pedes and stumbled toward the apartment building, struggling not to purge with the rank odor wafting up from his own frame.
00000
Leaning back in her desk chair behind her desk, Miss Coral smiled softly as she watched her class filter in. They were the youngest class and were still learning the routine they would follow for the rest of their time at school. But as the youngest they were also the most rambunctious and with the shortest attention span… But they were her favorites to teach.
Her optics wrinkled in amusement as her students tried to settle into order, momentarily distracted as Prowl came in without Jazz for once. He usually came in with Jazz, or not at all. Miss Coral glanced down to mark him "present", frowning at the amount of "Not present" tallies on her attendance list. It is worthless trying to contact his creators. She had tried to call them, only to find that the contact information didn't work. Who leaves their youngling in school with no way to contact them?
Frustrated with the situation, she looked sharply up just in time to see Prowl stumble to his knees. Instantly Coral was at his side and rested her hands on his shoulders. Her hands instantly warmed from the heat radiating from the youngling's frame.
"Are you ok?" The worried optics of the femmling in the nearby desk widened as she watched Prowl struggle to rise.
"Prowl?" Slowly he lifted his helm and gave her a glassy look though optics that just wouldn't focus. Immediately alarmed, Coral pressed her hand against his forehelm. It was hot. Far too hot. She pulled the warm little frame against hers.
Frowning with concern, she murmured, "Come with me, Prowl," as she took his hand she and led the unresisting youngling through the hallway, the volume of her worried class rising as soon as she cleared the doorway. Pausing in the hallway she could smell the clear trace of rain on the cool breeze that entered through the open windows, and frowned as a waft of something unpleasant came from Prowl's frame. Another teacher was methodically closing each window ahead of the coming storm.
"Miss Torch?" She called quietly.
Torch was quickly at her side and held her hand to Prowl's forehelm. "Oh, he's not doing well." She murmured. "How can I help?"
"Can you watch my class, please?" Coral replied urgently. "I'll try to be quick."
"Of course," the other teacher sympathetically patted Prowl's shoulder and slipped into the classroom, quickly shutting the door and cutting off the rising volume of 15 younglings all talking at once.
"Hi Miss Coral! Hi Prowler!" Jazz chirped as he trotted toward them, pulling his carrier along behind him. "Prowler? Are you ok?" He asked worriedly, stopping to stand in front of his friend as the distant rumble of thunder reached their audios from the windows that were still open.
"I don't feel good." Prowl softly answered, drooping where he stood, as the hallway lights brightened automatically to compensate for the darkening sky as the rain heavy clouds loomed ever closer.
With a worried frown Jazz's carrier pressed his hand against Prowl's forehelm. His frown deepened as Prowl pulled away, but not before he could feel the heat radiating from the other youngling. He looked over at the tired teacher, "He's sick?"
"Apparently. I don't know what to do with him!" She confided quietly to the concerned carrier. "His creator didn't leave any contact information. He needs to go somewhere quiet to rest." She cast a quick glance outside. The storm was almost there, carried on a chill storm wind.
"How was he able to be enrolled without contact information?" Synthesizer frowned as he brushed his hand gently over the top of Prowl's helm.
"I don't know!" Coral snapped. Then she vented heavily. "I'm sorry, I have no idea how this could have happened." She looked worriedly down at the little Praxian youngling.
"Can Prowler come home with us?" Jazz interjected, his optics bright. "He was supposed to ask if he could come home with us after school today, for a play date."
"Back with us?" Synthesizer repeated, eyebrow lifting in surprise as he looked down at his youngling.
"He can't stay here. And he doesn't know you. And we have a scary storm coming. He'd feel better if I was there with him because he knows me." Jazz looked entreatingly up at his blue and green carrier.
"It is against policy… But so much is already with him. It would be a big help." Miss Coral admitted before briefly shutting her optics. Then she glanced down at Jazz, "I could send Jazz's work for the orn home with him, so he doesn't get too far behind."
"Aw, Miss Coral," Jazz pouted.
"And it would help out immensely." She looked questionably at Synthesizer.
Venting deeply, he looked into his youngling's pleading face, and into the dull optics of the Praxian youngling, who shivered as he leaned against his teacher. Synthesizer's spark melted, and his carrier coding gave him a sharp nudge. Here was a youngling who needed him. He finally nodded his helm, once. "Very well."
"Yes!" Jazz hissed in victory, pumping his fist in the air. Prowl simply drooped where he stood, watching them.
"I'll go get your work for today, Jazz," Coral said as she returned to her classroom. She soon returned to the three and showed Jazz what he needed to do. Scowling, Jazz took the datapad as lightning cackled across the sky, closely followed by a deep rumble of thunder.
"Got everything?" Synthesizer asked Jazz, keeping a close optic on the swiftly approaching storm.
"Yes, Carrier," Cheerfully Jazz reached over and patted Prowl's arm. "Come on, Prowl. You get to go home with me!"
Grinning from audio to audio, Jazz led Prowl outside, closely followed by Synthesizer, who walked as quickly as possible as he kept a hand on Prowl's back, gentle between the trembling door wings. He transformed quickly at the curb, urging them to climb in.
After wrapping the seat belt tightly around Jazz, "Prowl, could you please sit back so I can put your seatbelt on?" Synthesizer requested gently.
Prowl leaned back slowly. "Is this ok?" He asked, his door wings barely touching the seat.
"Go ahead and sit back and relax, Prowl." Synthesizer replied.
Prowl sat back all the way and Synthesizer wrapped the seatbelt protectively around him.
Prowl wiggled a little with the unfamiliar pressure. "Is it too tight?" Synthesizer asked.
Prowl nodded his helm, "But it's ok. I'm not used to it. Slipknot doesn't use it."
"Well, I'm not Slipknot." Synthesizer replied as he started to pull away as the wind picked up a notch pushing him down the road.
Jazz instantly turned on the radio to a loud music station and began to bounce happily.
Seeing Prowl cringe at the high decibels of the radio, Synthesizer promptly turned it off.
"Aw, Carrier!" Jazz whined.
"No, Jazz, not now."
Pulling restlessly at the safety harness, Jazz asked Prowl, "Where'd you go yesterorn?"
"Not far, this time," Prowl answered a bit sluggishly. "Just the warehouse district by the shuttleport."
"Really?" Jazz stopped squirming. "That's so neat! What was it like?"
"Busy. The transports taking off and landing was really cool." Prowl answered slowly.
"Do you travel a lot?" Synthesizer asked, curious.
Nodding slowly, Prowl replied softly, "Yes, sir."
"Prowler gets to go to all sorts of cool places!" Jazz chirped.
Prowl shrugged his shoulders, his helm sagged heavily against Synthesizer's seat. It was so comfortable.
"Hmmm" Synthesizer replied, watching Prowl slump back in his seat.
"He's been to Epison, Tyger Pax, The Crystal City and, and.. where else?" Jazz chirped excitedly nudging Prowl awake.
"Um, Voc." Prowl dragged his attention back to the conversation. It was getting hard to focus, and he felt… Safe, here, with them.
Jazz's carrier grumbled softly. "Voc's not a very safe place."
"Better than Kaon." Prowl mumbled barely able to keep up with the conversation.
"You've been to Kaon!?" Synthesizer's engine sputtered.
"Only once or twice," Prowl was quick to try to reassure him. "Slipknot went to Praxus once but he didn't let me go with him."
"I see," Synthesizer replied as he pulled into a quiet, well-kept little neighborhood, stopping before a little house surrounded by others like it.
Jazz jumped eagerly out and grabbed Prowl's hand, rushing him to the doorway as the first fat drops of rain fell on their helms. Synthesizer transformed and watched as Jazz dragged his unresisting friend inside. Prowl's doorwings twitched a little before sagging to hang low on his back again as they entered the family's home.
"Why don't you two get settled on the couch?" Synthesizer asked when they entered the small but cozy living room, turning on the lights as he went in.
Grinning, Jazz led Prowl over to the couch.
"Go ahead, Prowler, sit down."
Hesitantly, as if unsure if this was what he was supposed to be doing, Prowl sat beside Jazz on the clean couch, cringing into the soft cushions as the sound of a particularly loud crack of lightning snapped though the house.
Following them into the living room with a plush blanket and covering both younglings with it, Synthesizer asked Prowl, "Do you have a contact number for your guardian?" As he tucked it in.
Cringing back from the mech, Prowl simply shook his helm.
Synthesizer frowned slightly at Prowl. "Very well. I'm going to look for the overheating meds, Jazz. Why don't the two of you get comfortable?" He asked as he turned to go deeper into his house.
"Wanna watch some tv, Prowler?"
"Don't forget you have your lessons to do, Jazz." Synthesizer stated when he returned, pretending not to see Jazz's grimace at being reminded about his classwork.
Several joors later the front door slowly opened, despite the pounding rain outside A tall silver mech peeked in, looking all around before carefully sneaking into his own house.
"Hello? Is anyone home?" He called, inching slowly in case there was a sneak attack waiting for him.
"Shhh," his creation shushed him from the couch, "Prowler's 'chargin'"
Finally entering the apartment completely, DJ carefully walked up to Jazz who was sitting on the couch with another youngling who was - apparently - Prowl. The young Praxian was leaning on Jazz as he recharged, his doorwings rested limply against his frame and twitched occasionally.
DJ cocked an eyebrow at his mate, who stood in the hallway just beyond the couch with his arms crossed, watching the two with a concerned frown.
Synthesizer simply vented softly, leaned on the door frame and stared at DJ. "He's sick and there was no way to contact his guardian."
"The school didn't get contact information?" DJ scowled, as he wrapped his arms around his mate and nuzzled him.
"No." Synthesizer answered, returning his mate's kiss gently. "And Prowl doesn't have any contact information either."
Frowning, DJ looked over at the recharging youngling "That's odd, to say the least.". A faint smile split his faceplates. His ever active youngster was struggling to remain still and not disturb his friend. Walking closer to the two younglings, he noticed Jazz's datapad sitting neatly on the side table, and a few other datapads stacked neatly nearby. "Jazz," DJ said softly.
"Prowl's sick!" Jazz announced.
"I see," DJ answered softly, squatting beside the couch to press his hand against Prowl's forehelm.
Prowl onlined suddenly, his optics going wide and he jerked back, away from the strange mech looming over him.
"Easy now," DJ said soothingly, "I'm DJ, Jazz's sire." He remained still as Prowl looked him over, and finally nodded his helm.
Synthesizer hovered behind them. "I have energon ready," He handed Jazz a cube and held out one to Prowl.
Jazz promptly began to drink his energon, but Prowl stared at Synthesizer, and did not take it.
"It's ok, Prowl. You can have it." He whispered, kneeling beside the couch and resting a hand reassuringly on Prowl's knee.
"No, thank you." Shaking his helm no, Prowl curled back into the couch, tucking himself deeper into the soft blanket. He wished he felt like fueling, but his tank was upset from whatever he had. He stared wistfully at the low grade.
Synthesizer rose and leaned back against his mate's frame, worriedly watching the young Praxian. DJ wrapped his arm affectionately around him.
"Come on," DJ murmured, leading Synthesizer into the kitchen with a hand in the small of his back. "He probably doesn't feel well enough for energon."
"DJ, he acts like he's afraid of me." Synthesizer whispered urgently once they were there.
DJ nodded his helm and fixed their energon. "I saw that, when he cringed back from me earlier."
"What are we going to do?" Synthesizer worried.
DJ vented, "I'll take him back to his home tonight."
"But DJ!" Synthesizer put his cube down and crossed his arms agitatedly as he paced the kitchen floor. "We can't send him back!" He stated, throwing his arms out wide. His spark recoiled at the thought of Prowl leaving him…. The safety of his home.
DJ smiled tiredly at his mate. "I know you want to help him, I do too. But Synth, we can't just keep him. He has to go home."
"What if his guardian hurts him?" The distraught carrier insisted.
"Synth, we don't know for sure what's going on over there." DJ responded gently, his optics softening as his mate trembled.
Growling softly, Synthesizer glanced quickly over at the younglings. "I can't bear to take him back. He's going into a bad situation, I just know it!"
"I'll take him home, Synthesizer." DJ answered calmly, pressing into Synthesizer through the bond. "I want to see what his home is like, Synth." He paused. "We could be wrong, you know." Wrapping his arm around the distraught carrier, he rubbed his arms gently.
"I'm afraid we are not." Synthesizer replied, resting his helm on his mate's shoulder.
Carefully, DJ pressed a kiss into his mate's helm before stepping away and calling to the younglings.
:I love you,: he whispered through the bond, sending his feelings to his distressed mate. Synthesizer replied the same way, without words. His concern, his worry, and his love for his mate. There was an undercurrent to his feelings, and DJ frowned best explore that later, he thought as he cleared his face so Prowl wouldn't pick up on anything.
"Prowl, it's getting late, I'll take you home." He said softly, leaning down to press his hand gently the little shoulder.
"Can I come? Please, please?!" Jazz begged his sire, jumping to his pedes and bouncing in front of his sire.
Prowl rose much slower and carefully stood in front of the Polyhexians.
"Thank you for letting me stay," He said politely, his optics on their pedes.
"You're welcome, Prowl. You're welcome here anytime." Synthesizer said firmly, his spark melting for the miserable child in front of him.
DJ led the younglings out and got them settled into his smallish cab. "Thank Primus that storm has moved on. Prowl, you're going to have to give me directions. I'll drive to the school, and then you can direct me from there."
"Ok," Prowl replied softly..
DJ felt his spark sink deeper and deeper as Prowl directed him into rougher neighborhoods. Slowly he drifted to a halt in front of a tired, dingy old apartment building. The younglings got out and he transformed.
Prowl began to walk toward the apartment. Jazz looked around at their dismal surroundings and slipped his little hand into DJ's. "Prowler, you live here?" He asked, almost whispering, as he wrinkled his nose at the offensive smell permeating the place, the recent storm had done little to cleanse the air for someone unused to the odors that permeated the place.
Prowl stopped and partially turned to look at DJ and Jazz. "Yes." He answered simply, door wings rising a little on his back and waving slightly.
"Oh." Jazz whispered, looking around with wide optics.
Frowning, DJ stepped forward and took Prowl's hand in his other hand. When Prowl cringed back, he quickly said, "Let me help you, you're not looking too good yet."
They walked to the door and Prowl pressed the button to summon the lift with his free hand.
"Well, well, what have you brought home, Prowl?" A sultry voice drifted from behind them.
The three turned to watch a femme slip up to them and stand before DJ, hands on her hips.
"Vibes," Prowl greeted her tiredly, doorwings trembling violently.
The elevator door opened and they all trooped in. Vibes smiled suggestively at DJ, gently sliding her hand down his upper arm. DJ stiffened immediately. Prowl rolled his optics at her and pressed the buttons for his floor before leaning tiredly on the wall.
DJ, released Jazz's hand and gently removed Vibes hand from his arm. "I have a mate." He said sternly.
"He'll never know anything happened. Prowl won't say anything, will you, sweetie?" She smiled down at Prowl, who simply stared at her, optics dull. Vibes frowned down at him, momentarily distracted from her flirting.
"No." DJ said coldly, stepping away from her and taking his for once stunned silent youngling's hand. "Is this your floor, Prowl?" and when Prowl nodded, he took Prowl's hand in his other hand too.
"No?" Vibes smiled, leaning out the elevator door. "Well, if you ever change your processor, Prowl knows how to find me." And the door closed, leaving the three alone in the shadowy hallway.
Prowl looked up at DJ. "She always sneaks up on me." He said stately, his optics slightly dull and unfocused. "She won't have anything to do with Slipknot. He has to use Helitrope. She can't say no."
"Why can't Helitrope say no?" Jazz spoke for the first time in a while, a puzzled look on his face.
"Vibes is free and can choose her own clients, Helitrope's Master sells her to whomever he wants to and she can't say no."
Jazz and DJ blinked at the solemn youngling in front of them.
"Ok…" DJ reset his vocalizer. "Where is your apartment?"
Squeezing Jazz's hand reassuringly, he followed Prowl to an apartment, 637B. Prowl opened the door.
"Where the frag have you been?" A loud voice bellowed from inside the apartment.
Prowl walked in, door wings hanging low. DJ cringed at the crass language, for the millionth time regretting his decision to bring his child with him.
"Prowl has stayed with us for the orn, he was too sick to be in school." DJ called out, looking around the entrance to the apartment.
A tall orange mech stalked toward them from the innermost part of the apartment.
Scowling, Slipknot snarled, "Who the frag are you?"
"I'm DJ, my youngling is Prowl's friend from school."
Slipknot grabbed Prowl's arm, yanking him into the apartment. DJ's optics narrowed at the rough handling, but could do nothing. Thank Primus Synthesizer stayed home.
"Thanks for bringing him back," the other mech grunted, an annoyed look on his face.
"You should leave some contact information at the school, Prowl's still sick." DJ continued.
"He's fine. He's home, now get out." Slipknot growled at the other mech, flaring his armour as he stepped aggressively toward them. DJ stepped back, carefully maneuvering to keep Jazz behind him at all times. Slipknot quickly slammed the door shut as soon as they were clear.
Transferring his glare to Prowl, he dragged the unresisting youngling across the apartment.
"What the frag ya bring them here for?" He growled angrily, yanking open the door to Prowl's room. "Don't bring his kind back here, you don't need to be making friends with nosy do good fraggers like that!"
Snarling, he threw Prowl into his room. Prowl fell on the his berth and slid onto the floor. He tried to look up at the older mech, but the room kept spinning. The door slammed shut, leaving him in darkness. Too tired from his trip home, Prowl simply laid his head down on his arms and fell into recharge on the hard floor.
"Is Prowl going to be ok?" Jazz whispered as DJ drove away, the slowly setting sun deepening the shadows of the tired buildings behind them as it slowly sunk down below the horizon, puddles of rainwater reflected the sullen red light.
Pushing as much reassurance as he could muster into his voice, DJ responded, "We'll check on him in the morning, ok?"
"Ok." Jazz replied, worriedly looking out as they drove away. The cold, dark buildings hovering oppressively over them... It could suck the hope right out of you, if you stayed long enough.
00000
Slipknot jerked out of recharge, unsure what had woken him. A sharp rap on the door cued him in.
"Prowl! Prowl, get the door!" He bellowed.
The rapping continued, and there was no movement in the apartment.
Groaning, Slipknot struggled from his berth and staggered to the door.
"What'd ya want?" He grouched at the blue and white mech staring icily at him.
"I'm here to see Prowl." Synthesizer raised his chin, staring down his nose at the offensive creature before him as his armor flared slightly, his left arm protectively stretched front of Jazz.
Rubbing his optics, Slipknot saw a visored, black and white youngling peering around from behind the mech in front of him. Dimly recognizing the youngling as the one with the silver mech from last night, he groaned.
"He's gone. Must've left for school." Slipknot grunted and shoved past them. "I'm gonna be late." He snarled as he stalked off down the seedy hall.
Synthesizer stuck his pede in the door before it could close, and as soon as the elevator doors closed at the end of the hall, taking that offensive piece of slag away, he pushed the door completely open.
"Carrier?" Jazz whispered as they entered the apartment.
"Don't touch anything!" Synthesizer snapped at Jazz, suddenly wishing he'd taken DJ's advice and dropped Jazz off at school first. The drab little apartment was filthy.
He peered into the dirty kitchen where an ancient refrigerator wheezed pathetically. Gingerly he opened it, only to see stale mid grade and fresh high grade. With a low growl of disgust, he let the door fall shut. Younglings can't survive long on such fare.
"Carrier!" Twisting around, he searched frantically for his wandering creation. "I found Prowl!" Jazz cried.
Synthesizer strode quickly to a short hallway and peered into a shabby little room, obviously an old closet remade into a berth room. There, Prowl was curled on his side on the grimy floor, Jazz sitting beside him, gently petting his helm.
"He's awful sick, carrier." Jazz breathed and looked up at him with wide optics.
"Jazz, please move into the hallway." Once Jazz was clear, Synthesizer slid into the tiny room and carefully lifted the prone youngling. Feeling Prowl's temperature as he rested limply in his arms, his concern doubled. Quickly he carried him to the shabby living room.
"Jazz, clear off the couch," He ordered, placing Prowl on the couch as soon as he could.
Gently, he laid his hand on the youngling's forehelm. His temperature was even higher! How is it possible?
"Prowl, Prowl," he carefully shook the youngling's shoulder. "Come on, Prowl, online for me."
The youngling remained unresponsive, his limbs hung limply at his sides. Synthesizer looked down Prowl's frame, his scowl deepened when he saw the newest dent on his shoulder, where Prowl had hit the side of the berth before he landed on the floor last night.
"Jazz, get this damp and lay it on his forehelm, please," He asked the hovering youngling, handing him a soft clean cloth from his subspace.
"Yes, Carrier!" Jazz scurried off.
Rising, he scanned the room for a com-vid. Pouncing on it, he quickly dialed in an emergency number.
"Please state the nature of your emergency," a calm, clear voice cut through the carrier's rising panic.
"I have a youngling, 4 vorns, high fever, unresponsive."
"Location?" the dispatcher asked urgently.
"His apartment… I can't remember the street!"
"I'll trace your call. This isn't your sparkling?"
"No - "
"What is your designation?"
"Synthesizer."
"Carrier?" Jazz's voice sliced through the air like quicksilver. "Carrier!"
Spinning, Synthesizer's optic's focused on the couch, where Jazz was holding Prowl as he retched, trying to purge his empty tanks.
Quickly, he went to the youngster and supported his helm, leaning him forward so he couldn't aspirate the little energon in his tanks into his vents and rubbed his back reassuringly, cooing softly.
Jazz stood nearby, unable to help. He could only watch wringing his hands when a voice grabbed his attention.
"Hello?" The voice was calm, but urgent. "Hello?"
Jazz went to the comm-vid. "Help, help us please!" He yowled "Prowler's really sick an' Ah don' kno' wha' ta' do!"
"Help is on the way." The emergency dispatcher said calmly, working through the distressed young Polyhexian's accent quickly.
"Who are you?" the dispatcher inquired, activating emergency protocols as she spoke.
"Jazz."
"How old are you, Jazz?" she asked gently.
"4 vorns."
"How old is Prowl - Prowler?"
"Prowler's tha same age as meh." Jazz added helpfully, "We go ta school ta'gether."
"Ok, can you tell me what's going on?" She paused, then added, "First responders will be there soon. "
"Prowler's purging." Jazz whimpered.
"Ok," the dispatcher replied calmly, "Help is on the way, Jazz. I need you to stay calm and talk to me."
"Okay," the youngling's voice was barely audible over the faint hissing of static on the line. "When will they be here?" he asked, staring at his carier and friend across the room.
"5 breems. They're coming as fast as they can." The dispatcher replied soothingly. "Please tell me what is happening now."
00000
Several breems later there was a heavy pounding on the door, cutting off the calming voice on the comm. "Enforcers! Open up!" Barked a sharp voice from the hallway.
With a soft whine that went unheard by all except the dispatcher, Jazz spun to face his carrier, optics wide and frightened.
"Jazz, stay with Prowl!" Synthesizer directed, before lunging to open the door for the Enforcers, who entered swiftly with their sharp, seeing optics, quickly followed by a team of medics.
"Living room," he said shortly, leading them to Prowl. Jazz stroked Prowl's helm as a medic leaned in and began to hook a cord up to Prowl's medical port. The intrusion of strange mechs, the noise, the uncomfortable familiarity of the cord being plugged in roused Prowl. Delirious, he onlined sluggishly and looked around for a familiar face, latching onto Synthesizer, crying in fear.
Synthesizer leaned in close, "Shh, shhh, Prowl, they're here to help you," He said softly, petting the younglings arm gently.
"Please, I'll be good, I'll do what you want…" Prowl's voice faded in and out, as he began to struggle under their gentle ministrations.
"Going to have to sedate him," one medic muttered.
"Shu,shu, Prowl, it's ok." Synthesizer tried to calm the upset youngling.
"I'll try harder, please don't…. please don't sell me…" Prowl trailed off as convulsions raked his frame. Synthesizer stared in shock, horror dilating his optics.
"Wha'?"
Synthesizer staggered back and fell to his knees as a medic pushed him to one side as the medics lunged as one entity. "Frag! He's crashing!"
Moving swiftly to stabilize him, they loaded him onto a carry board. As they began to take him down, a tall red Enforcer grabbed Synthesizer by the upper arm. "You and the other youngling will travel with them." He stated firmly, leading the two out after the medics. Jazz clung to his carrier's free hand, trembling violently. Without pausing, Synthesizer swept Jazz up into his arms. They passed Vibes in the hallway, her back pressed against the wall, optics wide. "Wait!" she called out as they passed, her hand flung out to stop their progression. "What happened to him?" She asked desperately.
The enforcer released Synthesizer and Jazz to follow the medics and turned to her. "Can you tell me about him and his guardian?" he asked grimly, his mouth pressed together into a thin line.
A steely look entered her optics. Pressing her lips firmly together, she replied coldly, "What do you want to know?"
00000
"Why have them go with?" A young officer asked as the senior signed off with dispatch.
Looking around the seedy apartment with obvious distaste, the senior of the pair vented and answered, "Carrier protocols. Easier just to keep them with the youngling. Less dangerous for everyone."
"That was a Polyhexian, not Praxian."
The other shrugged one shoulder. "Don't matter. Carrier protocols can trigger for any sparkling, not just their own." He gingerly lifted a few datapads. "This place is a dump."
"Not all carriers give a cyberrat about their creations." the younger muttered as he looked around the room, littered with debris.
"Some don't trigger when their own spawn need them, some only trigger on their own, and some can trigger on someone else's spawn. Depends on the carrier." he muttered, poking at a pile of questionable data pads with his fingertip.
The officers raised their hands to their comms as their orders from Detective Redchip came though. :Search the residence:
00000
Padre Lightpede smiled slightly at the officers he walked past on his way to Detective Redchip's office. Gently he tapped on the clouded glass door and walked in after the busy mech shouted for him to enter. He smiled at the familiar big red and grey mech seated behind his cluttered desk and was waved to a seat in front of it. Lightpede obediently sat beside a strange mech, who studied him carefully.
"Padre Lightpede," the big Detective said, "This is Agent Devcon, from SOCA." He indicated the strange mech with a jerk of his helm. "He will be your liaison in Prowl's case." The Padre looked serenely at the two mechs seated in front of his desk, and folded his hands in his lap. The enforcer sat ramrod straight, cold optics studying him. Lightpede nodded his helm at him in greeting, "Pleased to meet you." He said politely as he reached for the datapad Redchip handed him with the youngling's case file.
'Why is the Specialized Organized Crime Agency interested in this youngling?" He inquired as he scanned over the brief file.
"Prowl's guardian is suspected of being involved in Iacon's Cartel. Drugs, gambling, the gladiator rings, and slavery." Redchip replied.
Lightpede nodded his helm slowly. The youngling was not the suspects creation. "The adoption agency that allowed Prowl to be adopted by this mech will need to be audited. I will set that in motion immediately." He said as he continued to study the sparse information he had. "I am also assigning temporary guardianship of Prowl to the Padres of Primus. Until the nature of his current guardian can be determined."
The Detective nodded. "Good, the youngling is currently at Iacon General Hospital, in critical condition. A virus and subsequent crash have left him in a critical state."
"I'd like to assign Medic Ratchet to the youngling's case." Agent Devcon interjected with a dark smile. "Ratchet has worked with SOCA before, and will comply with our protocols."
Lightpede nodded with a slight smile, "Medic Ratchet's fierce protectiveness of his patients is well known. He has been involved in several of our cases."
"I'm going to assign Prowl's case to Smokescreen. He is the best psychologist in the city and has worked closely with Enforcers before." Detective Redchip said. "He is out of town for a seminar, and in the interim Moonracer will fill in."
Lightpede nodded his helm in agreement.
With a noncommittal shrug, Devcon pulled a datapad from his subspace and handed it to the Detective.
"There is another complication." Devcon stated with his deep, gravelly voice.
"Please, continue." Redchip spoke softly, but with steel in his voice as he scanned the datapad before he handed it to Lightpede.
"A mech carrier, designation Synthesizer, made the call to emergency services. A background check has been done on him and his family." He calmly nodded at the datapad in Lightpede's hand "Synthesizer is half Iaconian, half Polyhexian. His mate, DJ is Polyhexian. They have one creation – a youngling designated Jazz. He's Prowl's age and attends the same school as Prowl. They have no connections to crime or organized crime."
"Hmm. Polyhexian. Very family orientated." Lightpede commented thoughtfully. "Maybe not a complication, Agent. I would rather think of it as the Will of Primus" Padre Lightpede murmured. "I will interview the family. Young ones always do better with a family than in an orphanage." He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, both datapads resting on his lap as he studied the two enforcers.
"The youngling's safety and wellbeing is of the highest priority." He stated in finality, signaling that he had nothing more to add.
"Good luck, gentlemechs" Detective Redchip looked from one to the other, meeting each ones' optics in turn as he rose. "Now, get to that hospital."
The Agent and the Padre of Primus rose to their pedes and shook hands with the Detective. Agent Devcon held the door open for Lightpede and followed him out of the office into the bustle of the room beyond. Enforcers, busy with other cases worked diligently.
Padre Lightpede paused slightly for the Agent to catch up, so they could walk out of the precinct together.
He quietly followed Agent Devcon outside and transformed, the SOCA enforcer taking lead. Lightpede followed close on his bumper as traffic melted out of his way. Even without lights and sirens traffic shifted respectfully out of the way of a marked enforcer, allowing them to travel quickly and without interference to the hospital.
00000
Lightpede led the agent to the 10th floor of Iacon General Hospital, pausing for a klick in the hallway to study the light blue and white carrier seated in the waiting room. A sliver mech sat beside him with his arm wrapped around his shoulders, and a little black and white youngling squirmed on his lap. Synthesizer, DJ and little Jazz. A slight smile graced his faceplates.
Devcon looked down at him as he held the door open, and the occupants helms snapped up, focusing intently on them like starved cyber wolves. "Evening, I'm Devcon and this is Padre Lightpede. Let's start this, shall we?"
