Grasping a Chance 2: What the City Offers
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thorn opened the door to the shop and ushered his charge in ahead of him. "You'll feel better once we are done." He encouraged. "Your frame is the same uniform color because Redline meant for you to choose your own color scheme and accents once you were able, not because it was how we intended for you to remain. Here, Colorwheel will help you, and don't worry. She is well accustomed to serving Knights, and she knows our tastes and preferences as a whole."
The shop was small, but located in one of the nice service districts of the city. It was also Prowl's first excursion out into the City itself.
"If you say so," Prowl responded, bewildered enough that it showed. What he made very sure didn't show was the fear. There was no question this was a test, but it was one he was spectacularly unsuited to passing. The best he could hope for was that cooperating and listening to Colorwheel, as the supposed expert, wasn't too poor a choice.
"Ah, Thorn!" A smooth voice crossed the room, heralding the arrival of the shopkeeper. A slender femme, boldly patterned in green and gold with white accents approached them, green optics dancing at the sight of the Knight in her domain. "Come for a change in your detail finally?"
The dark Knight laughed, smiling at the femme. "No Colorwheel. I am still quite content with my appearance. We are actually here for my charge, Prowl. He is a new arrival to the City."
That tidbit alone was newsworthy enough to catch the femme's attention, and she was circling Prowl in an instant, taking in every angle and detail of his frame. "New? New frame too. Redline's work?"
"Yessir," Prowl responded on reflex, falling back on the standards of a lifetime under stress. His frame stiffened to perfect military attention, his optics focused forward, but the rest of his sensors were tracking her movements.
"You'd be stunning in dark colors with bright accents. Black with green and gold, or gray with blue and reds." She said, considering him from all angles as Thorn backed away, amused as he watched the pair. Colorwheel was very forward in her opinions, but her ultimate goal was to please her clients, and he was sure that Prowl would walk away pleased when it was all said and done.
The word 'bright' got Prowl's optics to twitch towards her and there was little missing the flicker of discomfort in his field before he settled both back in place. "May I see what you have in mind?"
"Of course." She motioned her current client to towards the back of the shop. "Let me get a scan of your frame to input into the system, and then we can overlay it with different color details for you to view and decide."
The booth was an open place in back with mirrors and viewing screens on the outside wall.
Prowl compliantly allowed himself to be scanned, only stepping up to a monitor next to her when motioned to.
Colorwheel tapped at the control, humming to herself as she made some adjustments, and then called up the first image for Prowl to view.
It was his frame, tall and proud with golden optics shining out from a dark helm with a gold chevron. Green and gold accents ran down his arms and legs, highlighting them and adding visual depth to his frame while matching accents traced his wings, drawing optics down the length of them. "Option one." She announced. "You'll catch every optic in a place when you step in the door, flyer or grounder, with those sensor wings of yours."
Though he didn't say anything, Thorn already recognized the faint twitch of his wings, a movement that would have been invisible in doorwings but showed in the tips of the pair that reached below his knee joints. Prowl's field gave it away to Colorwheel. As tight as he held it, she was an expert at picking up subtle clues from clients.
Optic-catching was the last thing Prowl wanted.
Colorwheel picked up on her client's dislike immediately, and tapped some buttons to bring up another image. It was the same stance, but this time the base color was a deep storm gray, highlighted with red and contrasting blue. "Another option, just as a flattering but more subtle in contrast." She offered.
"Red chevron, yellow center," Prowl said softly, tacking on a databurst of the exact shades. He never thought it'd miss his colors, but his face ... he wanted to look like himself. He was already doubting his choice to stick with golden optics. Looking at himself in the image, he wanted his optics back. "Pale blue optics," he added with another burst of the shade he'd once had.
For a moment Colorwheel hesitated, then looked pleased that Prowl was finally taking part in his own design.
She studied it for a moment, then made the first changes he requested with the red and gold. Then she added the optics. "Like so?" She asked.
He hesitated at the shift from yellow to gold, but tried very hard to look at it from a somewhat outside perspective. It did look good. His face was just as striking as it had always been, with the pale blue and bright red drawing attention upwards. His frame, while not the black and white he was used to, was still neutral enough that he could stand in the corner, watch and listen or simply be present, and not draw attention from those who expected it.
"The gold, does it have meaning here?" he asked, trying to express his concern without drawing too much of the past into it.
"Not any more than any other color." Colorwheel answered, playing with the shades a little bit, lightening the gray a few shades and toning down the blue some, as well as adding subtle highlights in a few shades of gray.
"What did it mean where you're from?" Thorn asked, trying to pull up files from Praxus that he might have missed. Color wasn't mentioned that he could recall.
"The metallics are for nobles and high ranking officers in Praxus," Prowl said simply. "Gold was reserved for royalty, generals and the like."
"It means nothing of the sort here," Thorn promised, flaring his wings to show off the golden plating between each of the three black spines and motioning to the golden highlights that liberally decorated his black frame. "It's just a color and finish."
Slowly Prowl nodded and turned his optics to what was on the holo-display. It looked ... attractive. Not a glyph he associated with himself. Yet, he did like it. "This will work."
"So how is this?" Colorwheel finally asked as she pulled an image up to fill the screen and stepped back so that Prowl and Thorn could both view it.
The final image was Prowl, frame a blending of greys with subtle blue and red highlights the accented all of the best features and lines of the elegant frame without being overbearing or ostentatious. A red chevron, centered with gold was the centerpiece of his helm, and subtle gold accents traced the highlights of his frame, drawing the whole image together.
"The optics are something that you will have to speak with Redline about. That is a medical procedure, not a cosmetic one that I am capable of performing."
"I understand," Prowl inclined his helm to her. "I believe I will like this," he added, trying his best not to sound as clueless as he was. He really was perfectly happy being all white.
"It will look good," Thorn agreed with a light trill. "I think it suits you. Elegant, subtle, quiet and very attractive."
Prowl clamped down on his field and wings. He did not want any hint of how creepy that sounded to him to get out. He was sure, intellectually, that it was meant as a friendly complement. Thorn had done nothing to hint that he was planning to get in the berth with him.
The motion was not lost on Colorwheel, and she offered him a smile as she started to program the settings on the booth that would adjust Prowl's base coat. "You may not understand yet, but this finish will actually allow you to blend in better. An all white mecha in the city attracts attention because they are so uncommon. Someone with a paint job such as the one you have chosen will blend right in."
"Wing is almost completely white," Prowl glanced between them, wondering if there was an answer other than 'that's Wing for you.'
"And Wing loves being the center of attention." Thorn pointed out as Prowl was ushered into the booth."We'll stop and see Redline when we get back, if he is not busy."
"Follow my direction, keep your motions smooth and steady, and we'll be done quickly, at least with this part." Colorwheel instructed as the spray nozzles hissed to life and Prowl's transformation began.
She found him an extremely compliant and exact client, which was nice. It was a distinct improvement over the playful, fun and decidedly opinionated outsider that had come the previous orn. They may have arrived together, but they couldn't have been more different if they had tried. From their nature to their choice of finish they were polar opposites, and she suspected that Thorn was going to have an easier time with his charge than Wing was going to have with the other new arrival. Even if it was clear that this much calmer, more stable one had a small minefield of issues of his own.
"Excellent." She praised as the seal lamps turned on that would finish bonding the base coat to Prowl's plating. "As soon as those turn off you can step out here to the table and I'll start on the detail work."
Prowl held perfectly still, not even activating his vocalizer to respond until the lights dimmed and switched off. "Understood," he said softly and followed her guidance to the detailing area. With barely more than a couple light touches he stood, perfectly poised and still, with not one bit of plating touching another. Even his sensor wing fingers had spread into three distinct spans of metal. It wasn't a comfortable stance, but Prowl maintained it with seemingly effortless ease.
It was a trait that Thorn took note of. It was an invaluable one for a Knight, a function he had hope that this mech might just find appealing.
Colorwheel went to work with practiced ease. Fluid movement glossed the appropriate colors over Prowl's chassis and all six limbs, even gracing his helm with a few very fine marks of color that blended into the greater storm theme she was creating on this living canvas. Each coat sealed with a hand lamp bonding it to the base coat before she moved on to the next spot. This was one of the more complicated frames she'd dealt with in some time, and doubly difficult as it was so sensor heavy. Despite all the ways she had to be careful, this was a dance of pure joy for her, watching her creation take shape and depth before her, but far more, watching each mecha gradually settle into their colors as they watched their unique look develop.
Finally Colorwheel set her supplies aside and stepped back. "Excellent. Now turn slowly."
Prowl complied, his optics on the various mirrors and displays that showed off his new appearance. Despite his unease going into this, he had to admit he liked how he looked, and wasn't that an incredibly strange sensation. Carefully he shifted his sensor wings, closing the fingers of his sensor wings, then opening them again. Every movement he made was a check on his appearance, but also on the functionality of his frame.
She knew her work. Not a single sensor had been blocked. She could appreciate the methodical care in which this client assessed everything about his new appearance.
"You do look good," Thorn commented from where he was leaning on the short barrier between the studio and the conference area. "Colorwheel is the best."
The femme preened subtly at the praise as she picked up a polished cloth and approached Prowl, wiping away smudges and flaws that most likely only her optics could see with a skilled hand.
"Very professional." She complimented Prowl and stepped back with a nod of approval.
::He'll make some mecha a very handsome lover or mate.:: She added to Thorn privately. ::If he ever adjusts that much.::
::He's only been out of medbay for two orns. Give him some time,:: the black Knight sent back. "If you're satisfied, we can go meet Wing and Jazz in the library."
Prowl perked up noticeably at the mention of a library. "I am satisfied."
They fell into a companionable silence as they walked through the city towards the Knight's Citadel. While it was all the same roads, Prowl did take note of how others looked at him. It seemed the paintjob hadn't lessened the curiosity that much, but some of the looks he received made his engine try to rev in distress. He throttled it back hard, forcing it to remain at an idle as he tracked down the line of code that was telling him all these mecha were looking to interface with him and tagged it as corrupt.
The relief when the sensation abated was intense, nearly enough to catch Thorn's attention, but thankfully the black Knight was happy to keep chatting away about things that Prowl recorded but wasn't listening to with more than a fraction of his processor power. The chatter continued about all matter of subjects as they entered the Citadel and wound their way to a tower dedicated to knowledge.
With his first step inside, before he'd even fully grasped just how many hundreds of millions of datapads and data cores were on display, Prowl simply froze. He was too entranced to even hide the look of wonderment on his features, and it read as clear as day to anyone who managed to see him.
Thorn stopped and smiled, watching with pleasure as Prowl took in the library, and giving the Praxian all the time he wanted to look around.
This was the first real positive reaction he'd gotten on a level that might indicate that his charge would be tempted to stay of his own will.
"How much did you salvage?" Prowl's voice was barely above an awed whisper.
"As much as we could." Thorn answered, a soft note in his voice. "The Knights had extensive records, and we had been collecting them for a long time. You are welcome to spend as much time here as you want. There is history, music, literature...thousands of subjects."
A faint trembling consumed Prowl's entire frame before he controlled himself and nodded. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. We're supposed to meet Wing and Jazz in one of the study rooms. Your pilot went to see Colorwheel several orns ago." The dark colored Knight informed Prowl as he motioned toward a side door.
Despite the apparent distraction the bookfiles and datapads and data cores represented, Prowl followed along compliantly, only to stop again when the door opened.
Wing was Wing, a white blaze in the space and sitting with one hip on the table.
Jazz was lounging in a chair across from the New Crystal City jet, now dark pedes up on the table. He looked up as the door opened and smiled brightly at Prowl, visor flashing. "Well look at you, boss. Snazzy new paint job."
While Prowl had striven for a subtle look, Jazz had apparently gone for just the opposite. Bright blue and reds blazed across his frame, with brilliant white highlights.
"That was not the effect I was attempting," Prowl deadpanned back. "Yours, however, I believe does meet the definition of snazzy."
Wing was desperately trying to hide his laughter at the pair. "You know, you don't have to hide it if you're a couple."
He just missed Thorn's near-frantic comm not to bring such things up, but it was too late. Prowl stiffened, his wings locked in tension and it was only Thorn's firm grip on his arm that kept him from bolting.
Wing's optics went wide and he held up his hands, palms flat and facing Prowl as the dark mech tried to pull away. "Whoa, relax, I didn't mean anything by it. We aren't that wound up about such things here."
Jazz chuckled at the sudden tension and shook his helm at Wing. "We're not." He informed the jet easily. "We'd only met a handful of times in passing before my commander assigned me to be his pilot." It was unbecoming of an officer to panic at such a harmless assertion. Even if it hadn't been all that harmless back on Cybertron, Prowl should have simply snapped that he wasn't fraternizing, or whatever term he preferred, and that was that. To reflexively try to bolt rather than defend himself, that just wasn't normal for a command-level officer. Even one who was dedicated to tactical.
Optics were kept subtly on the tense mecha and his keeper in the door while he spoke. Prowl's reaction was of interest to Jazz, and was piquing his curiosity far more than he let on.
Thorn's hand moved from Prowl's arm to his shoulder, guiding the tense mech into the room and to an open chair gently. "You are likely to get many comments like that, and compliments on your new look, here. Many mecha are just curious, or are sincerely complimenting your choice of aesthetics for your frame."
He hesitated for a moment before adding, "If you feel that they are implying more than that, you do have the right to say no. We do not force mecha like that here."
Prowl hadn't really settled, but he allowed himself to be sat down and remained there. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to go and once the initial reaction wore off he allowed that truth to steady him. "Then I will learn to ignore them," he vented slightly and forced himself to stand down the rest of the way. It wasn't an easy process with his tac-net in a frenzy over his excessive reaction.
A cube of sweet coolant was pressed into his hand and he drank without question. His systems routed it to his tac-net and processors, and he let out a small sound of relief when the intense heat calmed.
"What just happened?" Wing asked quietly when it seemed that things had calmed down.
"I was sparked to operate the tac-net I have, built to support it and relay its results to the outside," Prowl said quietly, still sipping on the coolant. "When I was upgraded to a fully functional mecha frame and programming, it was discovered that it wasn't entirely compatible with the tac-net. The fix that was implemented ran everything through my tac-net. Including my emotional protocols. If I respond strongly enough to something, my tac-net can overheat trying to understand."
"And the panic?" Wing pressed gently.
"Do you have any irrational aversions?" Prowl finally looked up at the white jet. "Relationships and its closely related social parameters are one of mine."
"You can learn, and you have all the time you need to do so without hurting yourself." Thorn encouraged, pulling up a seat of his own. "There is no war here, and no need for you to strain yourself unnecessarily. No one will think less of you if you excuse yourself from a situation because you are uncomfortable."
Though this sort of revelation did throw a little shadow on his thoughts that Prowl might be suited to the life of a Knight, and the life of a Knight to him. While all Knights were not social creatures like himself and Wing, none of them were prone to have almost meltdowns in public from normal interactions either. It was possible to train him not to, and it was possible that he was hardwired to respond that way. Time and a little effort would tell.
"I will record that in my reaction tree," Prowl promised, his tac-net gradually settling and moving on to background threads. He looked at Jazz. "How have you been settling in?"
"Doing good." Jazz said with that same cheerful smile he always offered the world, whether it was the truth or not. "City seems to be a nice place, plenty of opportunities, from what Wing says."
Truthfully, he had no desire to return to Cybertron, a fact that he had admitted to their hosts the first orn he had been conscious. That still did not mean that he wished to remain here in New Crystal City. All he had seen so far was the surface, and what the Knights wanted them to see and experience.
Jazz wanted to see more before he made his decision, even a short term one. There had to be darkness here. There was darkness everywhere.
"How about you?" He asked Prowl in return.
"Adapting," the dark mech said simply with no outward sign if he considered it good or bad. "As you just saw, the attitudes here leave much to be desired from my perspective. Being cut off from my function is far worse. The energon is good, the berth soft and at least in the Citadel there are enough fliers no one has tried to touch my wings."
His wording was not lost on Thorn, and the Knight made it priority to find a task that would fulfill Prowl's programming need, or at least take the edge off of it, soon. He was not about to fail his charge. Not on something so fundamental as torturing a mech by denying his function needs. No mech would be content without their function being fulfilled, if that had one set in their core programming.
Jazz nodded at the answer before looking between the two Knights. "So now that you've gotten us fixed up and painted up, what now?"
"At least some education," Wing's grin was apologetic. "Before we can even think about letting you have any freedom of movement, you must know the basics of local law, culture and economy. Just enough that you don't crash into trouble that everyone here knows better, and so you don't get ripped off when you have some credits. Some leniency will be granted just because you are so new, but it's better if you don't need it."
Prowl's wings twitched and he leaned forward, open interest and even a bit of eagerness on his features.
"We can start your lessons next orn, if you like." Thorn told them both. "Wing and I will do some of the teaching, but there will be other Knights helping us instruct you. Once you have proven that you are learning what we are teaching you, we can start discussing other things."
Jazz perked up, pedes dropping to the floor as his chair righted itself completely. "Sounds good to me. What about you Prowl?"
"Knowledge is always a good thing," the Praxian nearly purred, his engine giving a soft rev of anticipation.
Every line of him spoke of eagerness, and Jazz had no doubt that it was genuine. A sparked tactical mech ... intel was their energon, just as important to their function as it was to his own. Only for Jazz it was gathering intel, and for Prowl it was dismantling and using it.
"So long as you remember to recharge and refuel, I will arrange for clearance to as much of the library as I can," Thorn promised his charge, relieved to see so much positive energy in him.
"I'll keep an optic on him." Jazz promised, visor flashing in a wink to the Knight. "So long as you're agreeable, of course." He added to Wing.
"I do not need a keeper," Prowl snapped at Jazz, his wings flaring slightly in aggression and pointedly not looking at either Knight. "Focus your energies on your own progress."
"Umm, I don't mind, but you might want to check with Prowl," Wing said cautiously, more than a touch unsettled by the mood swings on display. ::You might want to get Redline to check out his emotional processing. There is no way that's normal.::
"If I'm around to keep an optic on you, you can keep one on me, and make sure I learn everything I need to." Jazz pointed out, not intimidated by the display as he relaxed back in his chair once more, tipping it back and letting it fall forward in a slow rhythm.
::I am hoping that it is simply a lack of using social protocols, and a not an actual lack of the protocols themselves. Or even worse, programming against them. In a professional setting he is fine. Anything that starts to delve into the casual, except in the most controlled of environments, sets him off.:: Thorn replied, pinging Redline's message system with a non urgent call and an explanation of Prowl's behavior so that a check could be initiated.
The sooner he got this looked at the better, if he really wanted his charge to be able to integrate fully into their society in any capacity.
::Agreed. Undersocialized we can fix. It just takes time. Even if they're missing, Redline can install them and he can be socialized. If it's coded ... his options are going to be very limited,:: Wing replied sadly.
Prowl huffed but settled, a hard golden optic on Jazz. "Do you normally have this little respect for authority, or is this because I no longer have any?"
"Both." Jazz replied, offering a rare completely honest answer even as he absently noted that the golden optics were less intimidating than the pale ice blue had been. "You ain't got any here, at least not yet. But none of my officers ever liked me. Why do you think I ended up with Prowl duty?"
Prowl actually stilled, an odd sensation passing through his field. It was there and gone too fast for Thorn to teek, but it wasn't anger. That much the Knight could tell.
Prowl cocked his helm and regarded Jazz quietly, his gaze steady, for just a little too long. "I ... understand," he eventually murmured, his field and frame stilling even more.
Jazz huffed and looked at Wing. "Is there any way the medic can install a sense of humor?" He asked, half serious and a little worried. This was not the mecha that he knew, by reputation or from his short time spent in the tactician's company.
"The last effort to make me more normal resulted in nearly deactivating me," Prowl said very quietly, his manner calm, centered and very reserved.
It rather reminded Jazz of looking at a gifted op the first time they really got chewed out. Prowl knew he wasn't in real trouble, but it still looked like it hurt. A lot.
"I didn't mean nothing by it." Jazz said, trying to sooth a bit. He needed to remember that Prowl couldn't take his teasing well. He tilted his helm to catch Prowl's downcast optics. "Truth? There is only a select group of mecha that are allowed to tote you around. I was the one available that orn."
A half-truth, but one that he hoped would make the gray mech feel a little better.
Prowl simply inclined his helm. "Which made you the one that was lost with me."
Jazz shrugged. "I was with the Autobots because I really didn't have any place else to go. Not terribly upset that I'm not there anymore. Nothing says the Decepticons were after you. At this rate, we may never know."
Prowl nodded, something quivering deep inside him before he forced himself to stop thinking about it. "It does seem irrelevant," he murmured, visibly struggling just to vocalize that much. "If you have lost so little, you should be able to adapt quickly to this place. Your records do indicate you are gifted at adapting."
It left it unsaid but painfully clear that the same could not be said of himself. Prowl had lost so much he was still working out just how much was gone.
"A talent I've had to develop." Jazz replied as he bounced to his feet and looked at Wing. "And if everyone is happy with this meeting, can I see more of the city?"
"Of course," Wing smiled easily, wondering if his charge had made the statement for his own good, or to give his companion time in private. Either way, it was a good idea and he happily led Jazz out of the room.
SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS
In the library, hooked into multiple data cores, Prowl could, for upwards of several groons at a time, forget that he had no function, no purpose and a very uncertain future. He was in bliss, churning through the masses of data and phrasing it for the hundreds of billions of calculations his tac-net was running. For the first time since arriving, his frame relaxed and was abandoned beyond the requirements of fueling. Only when his systems pinged an energon request did he pull himself into his frame enough to tend to it. Whether the cube was there, delivered by Jazz or Thorn, or he fetched it himself, he saw to his energy levels and delved into the data with a relish that bordered on transcendence.
It reminded him of his original frame, of the freedom of not having a frame to tend to, of the incredible peace that came with doing his function and pushing his tac-net to the limit.
When he finished and reluctantly focused on his frame once more, fully integrating into it again, his chronometer indicated that he had been occupied for six and a half orns. He felt more calm, centered and sane than he had since arriving.
He knew it couldn't last, but that thought was deleted the moment it arrived.
Prowl glanced around, his gaze locking onto his keeper with ease. The tall, lean black form glided over and landed smoothly.
"When will we be expected to contribute to the population?" Prowl asked simply with no hint what kind of answer he was hoping for, if any had a preference.
"Not before you have fully integrated into the population with a function, and then your names will be added to the roster that tracks the population and reproduction rates, and whose turn is next," Thorn refrained from adding the 'if' that was still lurking in the back of his processor. "While we wish to increase the population to protect against being wiped out, we are not interested in increasing our numbers recklessly. To add those we cannot support but would be inviting the problems we left behind."
He hummed for a moment, thoughtful, but adding. "There is the occasional accidental creation, but they are rare. And desire to procreate, or lack thereof, is also noted in personal files."
Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance. "So those who are likely to be poor creators are less likely to be asked to do so."
"Yes. There is hope that every mecha will have at least one creation, to perpetuate talents and sparklines, but we do not ask mecha to perform actions that they are ill suited to. That only leads to problems." Thorn explained as he settled more comfortably next to his charge, studying Prowl curiously. "Is there a reason you ask?"
"Given the condition of my emotional and social protocols, even when operating at peak functionality, it is unlikely I could provide the emotional connection it is indicated that sparklings require," he said simply.
"You would not be expected to raise a creation alone. That only places stress on the creator, and has no real benefit for the creation." Thorn argued reasonably. "You really don't have anything to worry about for a while. They won't even do a real creator evaluation on you until you've attained your citizenship and been settled in and functioning for a while."
He could understand Prowl's argument, but once Redline had confirmed that Prowl's reactions were just a lack of implementation of social protocols, and not a lack of the protocols or programming against them, the Knight had become much more confident that this was something Prowl could overcome with the right training and support. The mech certainly had the will and intellect to learn anything he set his processors to.
The storm gray mech would never be a social butterfly of any sort, unlike his companion, but Thorn was sure he would reach the point where he was willing to relax among comrades and willing to make actual friends, even if they were few. Nothing Prowl had said or done indicated an actual objection to the idea. At worst it was a confused look asking why he'd want to. Never an outright rejection. That in and of itself meant it was a correctable issue. Prowl was aware of his shortcomings in the area and wasn't against corrections, so long as it did not damage his function.
Thorn allowed the silence to drag on past Prowl's nod, sure his charge was working himself up to asking something else.
It was a while in coming.
"Now that I have phrased the library, I need a new function," Prowl said with more firmness than he'd yet displayed, but it was also laced with a desperation that seemed out of place.
"If you've gone through everything that you have access to," And there was no doubt in Thorn's processor that Prowl had done just that no matter how impossible it sounded, "Then it is time for you to start learning about mecha in a social sense. How well do you learn through observation?"
That blank look again. Thorn was learning to dread it. It was as clear as any words that Prowl had no clue how to answer, and likely didn't even fully grasp the question. It was also the first warning sign that the tac-net was revving up in a bad way.
"Understood," Thorn waylaid the building storm. "We'll just go to a cafe and find out." He stood and offered his hand to his charge. It was a simple courtesy, but a test as well.
Prowl accepted it with a strange look and painfully tight field. He wasn't comfortable in the least. This wasn't what he had hoped for.
Thorn picked a small place, one that he was very familiar with. The cafe had a quiet atmosphere, and the owner knew him well. Then the pair entered Thorn led Prowl straight to a corner booth, a place where they would not be noticed much, but where they could observe much of the goings-on of the place.
The operator was a quiet mech himself, bringing over Thorn's usual and setting it on the table before glancing at Prowl. "Anything for you?"
Prowl checked his fuel levels, coolant levels and oil with a quick systems ping. "No." He waited for the mech to go away, then turned to Thorn. "Is this really necessary for my new function?"
Thorn took a sip of his drink, his field loose enough for Prowl to feel. Comfortable. Safe. Relaxed. With an edge of pleasure from the smooth consistency and taste of the drink on his glossa. He didn't get much in return, but what he could teek was varying levels of stress. "What function have you chosen?" Thorn asked as his gaze skimmed over the other patrons of the small cafe, noting each one, their frame type and their general activities.
The stress in Prowl's field spiked sharply. "Choose?" That lost look crept back onto Prowl features. "I was created as a tactical planner."
"And if you wish to remain that there are variations needed on many levels in the city, in everything from emergency response to construction planning. But we will not force you in one specialty or the other. And there are other options outside of just planning that you could choose to function in. But here in the city all of them require a level of social ability to be able to interact with civilians."
Thorn focused on Prowl. "Short of the Knights there are very few organizations that operate with the sort of rigid discipline you are accustomed to, and none that operate on a purely business mentality. And even the least social of the Knights can still interact with their brothers and sisters and understand what is going on. To survive here, you need to learn to read others, and to understand comments made in social settings."
Anger flared brightly in Prowl's field before he stamped it down. "Why? Why can I not be allowed to simply perform my function?"
Thorn was silent as he thought, studying the mech with him and seeing Prowl's frustration. "Work on this exercise, and I will speak to Axe or Dai Atlas when we return. I have something that might work, for everyone, with their approval. Agreed?"
"Yes," Prowl nodded, grasping at any chance not to have his tac-net begin to shut down on him.
"Good. Start with the mecha seated at the table on the far side. I think the mech that just came in is here to meet them. Watch what they do, their expression and motions, what they are saying if it is loud enough for you to hear. Then tell me what you have seen."
Prowl gave him a bewildered look before focusing on the pair with an intensity that frightened most mecha.
The newcomer fetched two drinks, offering one to the smaller mecha already seated with a smile and a comment that made the other laugh. Green optics flashed, and the first mech gestured animated for the other to take the other seat. "We haven't had time to catch up in far too long! How is the new street market treating you?"
"Far better than my old location. That one was just a little oversaturated with art vendors with similar styles. And I'm working on a new design. You should come over and see it." The other replied, taking a drink and settling back in his chair.
The conversation went on like that for some time, wandering from occupational work to mutual acquaintances to a recent orchestral performance that both had attended. Finally the drinks were gone, and the small mech stood, stretching, and his frame settling into a slightly different, inviting posture. "Do you have plans for the evening?"
"I don't at the moment. But I wouldn't mind making some..." The other purred, optics dimming.
"Then you do now." The seated mech was helped to his feet, and they walked out together.
Prowl recounted, verbatim, what he had seen and heard. Every detail, every gesture and when he repeated their words he even used the same inflections.
"Very good." Thorn praised, honestly impressed with Prowl's recollection. "Now, we work through the why of what they did. Start at the beginning and list the first thing you come to that confuses you." Thorn instructed.
That blank look again, but Prowl took in and vented a long, deep breath of air and gave a somewhat apologetic look. "I am not confused by any of it. I am aware that I do not perceive the majority of what they implied."
"The beginning was just two friends, very good friends, catching up after not seeing each other for a while. Do you know how I could tell they were good friends that knew each other well?" Thorn started.
"No," Prowl's single glyph of an answer contained a wealth of sub-harmonics and modifiers expressing his desire to know.
"First, there was no communication between the two when the second one arrived. The second mecha went up to the bar and ordered drinks for both of them. That means that he already knew what his friend would like. Then there was no introduction when he brought the drink over. No exchange of names, just happiness- you could see it in their optics and hear it in their voices- at greeting the other." Thorn paused for a moment to let Prowl digest that and match it up with his memories.
After a long moment, and a bit of a scowl, Prowl nodded weakly. He didn't perceive the happiness, but he added what he could to the markers for it.
"Then their conversation. They already knew a lot about each other. They had no hesitation in asking questions about how things were going. They asked about friends, family, work. Subjects far outside of a business setting. And throughout the entire conversation they were both at ease, relaxed and laughing. There were no signs of stress or anxiety." Thorn continued, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, his own posture and field mimic what he was describing. A mech at ease in the presence of another he trusted and liked.
Again there was a long pause as Prowl struggled to make useful markers out of what he'd learned, occasionally going back to older memories to pull information in from the new perspective. He knew his own field was nothing like Thorn's. He was stressed. He wasn't comfortable. He didn't want to be there. He didn't actually feel anything towards Thorn.
But he tried. It was something to do, even if it was trivial, and that made it preferable to the alternative.
"And the end, when they left together, their actions suggest that they were planning to spend more time together, in a more private setting." Thorn explained once it Prowl focused on him once more.
"They said as much," Prowl interjected, sure Thorn was implying something he couldn't grasp the meaning of.
"There are many levels of relationship. The purely professional, such as you are accustomed to. Those you know, but do not share much personal information with. Those you consider close friends, who know much about you and that you can depend on to be there for you if you are ever in need. Sometimes relationships that reach that level go even deeper, such as theirs suggests."
"Mates," Prowl supplied the word, though it meant nothing to him other than the irritating regulation to do his best to keep the mecha stationed together.
"Sometimes. I do not think they are at that level. I think they are good friends willing to share pleasure for the night. They may be on the path that leads to a more permanent relationship, or they may keep it where it is." Thorn said gently. "Even here bonding is a serious step. Many mecha are hesitant to make that kind of commitment, even after the vorns of peace we have experienced."
Prowl let a long, silent vent out and rubbed the fingers of one hand just below his chevron to try and ease some of the tension building. "All right. Considering I have no desire for such behavior, how does this apply to me?"
"Even if you do not desire it for yourself, it is good for you to be able to recognize it in others. If you recognize it as non-threatening, you can lesson your reaction. It is a known factor then, is it not? And you can learn responses that will deflect the attention without offending or threatening others." Thorn pointed out. "The second mecha was offered a way out if he did not wish to spend the night with his companion by simply saying he had plans for the evening all ready. It would not be a lie, even if those plans had only been to spend the night alone. No hard feelings." He added, painting another scenario for Prowl as he waved for Prowl to be brought a drink.
"Learning to ignore such attention is not sufficient?" Prowl's tone was distinctly resigned, even if he could not fathom himself being in such a social situation as the couple he had studied. Once he had a function here and Thorn was no longer watching him, he could find ways to occupy himself if need be. Why was it so hard for mecha to understand what made him feel good? Perhaps if he learned what they were looking for, he could script protocols to display those markers when he was working. Maybe then he'd be left alone to do his function and be content.
"For you to purely ignore it without offering any response would be offensive, and cause problems. But even if you chose to ignore it only, to ignore it you have to recognize it." Thorn said as the drink was placed in front of Prowl. "Drink that, and then we will head back to the Citadel. I think it will help your processor."
"My fuel level is at 98.3%," Prowl objected, reflexively calculating that consuming more than a sip of the cube in front of him would mean it would go to waste, or worse, come back up, given he still had some unprocessed in his tank. "I ... can take it for later?" he half offered, half asked, struggling to both comply and not waste such a precious commodity.
"It's very mild." Thorn said with a smile," A treat here. And you don't need to worry about it going to waste. But yes, you may take it with you. Drink it later. Offer it to someone else. It is yours, to do with as you please."
The dark jet stood and offered his hand to help Prowl up.
Prowl nodded and subspaced the cube. He hesitated before accepting Thorn's hand, wondering what others would interpret it as before he killed all threads along those lines and walked out with the tall black Knight. Privately, he was now convinced that if Primus was real, he hated him.
They walked in silence for a while, Thorn a companionable distance from the gray mech, giving Prowl a little time to think before he asked another question. "What do you think mecha are thinking when they see the two of us together, provided they spare the processor power to do more than note the passing of two mechs?"
Prowl's features closed off even more than usual as he struggled to find a way to answer from the perspective of mecha he didn't know anything about. In the end, all he could offer was a guess that they probably picked up enough of the truth. "That I am not comfortable and you are."
"A good conclusion, and something that outside mecha might conclude. Here in the city, they might think I was taking you in for something, since you are uncomfortable and I am a Knight. We are the main defense force of the city, and often assist the civilian peacekeepers." Thorn agreed as the Citadel came into view.
"The Citadel contains the city's prison?" Prowl asked, swift to focus on more useful things.
"Not for civilians. That is at the main city precinct. But any offense against a Knight or a Knight's mate is dealt with directly by us." Thorn explained as they entered the tower.
Prowl nodded his understanding and fell silent. He did not wish to be taken as a criminal by those who passed, but he could do little to mitigate his frame language than what he was already. He still had not managed the scripts to control his much longer but lighter wings.
Thorn led the way back to their quarters, a familiar route where all of the mecha they crossed paths with were residents of the Citadel, and did no more than offer a wave or a friendly greeting as they continued on.
As the door closed behind him Thorn reached out a hand, asking Prowl to stop. "What would be your perfect functioning?" He asked, serious and a little afraid of the answer he was going to receive.
"To once more be hardwired into Cybertron's grid, free of my frame's needs," Prowl answered calmly, his field smoothing and warming with the pleasurable peace those memories brought him. "I have never adapted to having a mecha's frame."
"Why were you pulled from there in the first place?" Thorn asked, taking a seat in the small common area of their quarters, all of his attention focused on his charge.
"The Prime, the last Prime, wanted the Tactical Miracle of Praxus," Prowl shrugged his wings, though the casual motion did nothing to hide his anger or despair. "Only he didn't want to take orders from something that looked like a machine, so he ordered me converted into a mech."
Thorn sighed, sympathy thick in his field as he worked his way through what Prowl had said, the same injustices that had caused the war that he had left behind. He had seen many hard things in his functioning, experienced many painful events, but even he had never had his very core needs challenged in such a way. "And you would still go back to that, if you could." He concluded, flinching as he delivered a rather painful truth. "There is nothing like that in New Crystal City."
"Even if there was, there is less than a 0.003% probability that I could join the city," Prowl spoke an even simpler and much harsher truth. "It is an immensely powerful position to mecha that do not understand how we perceive things such as power."
"And how do you see power?" The question was quiet, curious as Thorn tried to understand more about the mech before him.
"A variable that applies to other. To the ones who move about," Prowl sank softly into his deep code, into that being he had once been before his world had been shattered. "We who are part of Cybertron do not need such things. If one suffers, we all suffer. It is better for the network for all to have a little less than for one node to shut down."
It was a world Prowl could not return to, and not for the first time did Thorn wonder if they had hurt Prowl by saving his spark. If it would not have been better to never have found the shuttle and to have let the mech with him fade back to Primus, and peace. "I'm sorry that you must suffer this."
"I only suffer when I do not have a function," Prowl looked up, meeting Thorn's deep red optics with a pleading look for the Knight to grasp what he was trying to communicate, even if just a little. "I need to work," his voice nearly cracked, but he managed to keep it level despite the panic-grade desperation he was feeling. "If my tac-net is not busy it shuts down."
Thorn nodded slowly. "I think I understand." He stood, opening a comm line to a fellow Knight and hoping that she was not busy at the moment. ::Demeter, may I ask a favor?::
::Of course. Need somebody to watch your charge for a while?:: her grin was audible.
::Yes. I need to go speak to Axe or Dai Atlas. As a warning, he is very distressed at the moment. I am hoping to help him, if they will agree to my plan.:: He explained.
::Sure. Have you worked out what makes him settle or feel better?:: she asked. ::On my way. Coming in the balcony.:: she added with her location.
::Anything that you can think of to engage his processor. Ask him riddles, play 20 questions with him, tell him trivia of the city. Quiz him on his companion- maybe you can learn useful things for Wing to use. If you don't mind getting stomped, pick any of the games on the shelf or in the game unit to play.:: Thorn told her, rattling off as many suggestions as he could that came to mind.
"Demeter is coming." Thorn informed Prowl as he went to open the balcony door so the mechanimal-former could enter. "She is going to keep you company while I attend a meeting."
A bright yip from the balcony announced her landing on all fours from the level above, but she transformed before walking into the room designed for mecha four to six times her height. "Hi Thorn, Prowl."
"I'll be back shortly." Thorn told them both, hoping his words were true before focusing on Prowl. "Maybe you can get Demeter to describe what the world often looks like from her point of view?" He suggested.
Prowl inclined his helm to Thorn, then focused on the microbot that barely came up to his knee joint. "My apologies for disrupting your evening, Knight Demeter."
It was the last thing Thorn heard before he ignited his thrusters and took off, headed for the highest residential tower and the quarters of the two largest Knights.
Axe greeted him at the balcony with a grin and lines of three different colors criss-crossing his frame. "I hope you don't mind talking while we scrub down."
"Of course not. I might see if I can get a sparring partner later myself." A good bout would help relieve some of the stress that was still plaguing him. A good 'face would do the same thing, if not, and there were often plenty of willing to play there as well.
He waited to be invited in still, his need not so urgent as to the transcend the line of good manners.
"Always good stress relief," Axe grinned a bit more and motioned him in, to follow. "We have asked a great deal of you and Wing in taking the strangers as your charges. No Initiate is as demanding as we have had to be about your attendance to them."
It wasn't that many paces to one of the very few private wash racks in the Citadel. It was a token of their rank, but also a practical issue. The two triple changers were much larger than most Knights and as a bonded pair they had long been accustomed to assisting each other. As Thorn turned the corner on Axe's heels, he saw Dai Atlas simply standing under the hot spray, his armor shivering, making the droplets dance.
"Now, what has come up with your charge?" Axe asked as he picked up a brush and went to work on one wide white and light blue wing.
"He needs a purpose, a function." Thorn explained, summing up what it had taken him orns to fully understand and hoping he could communicate it fully to the mecha before him. "I fear he will shut down soon if he is not given something to do."
He knew he had their attention by the sharp tension that rippled through their powerful frames.
"Has he asked to be terminated, decommissioned, deactivated, released from duty or granted mercy?" Dai Atlas's red gaze was piercing, the knowledge of a truly ancient life in and out of the Knights of Light, pinning Thorn. The Sovereign of Light had witnessed this atrocity before and it showed in the deep rumble of his voice. "Or prostrated himself with his neck exposed, or knelt on both knees to expose his spark to you or anyone else?"
"No," Thorn shook his helm. "The closest he has come to asking is the combination of two statements. That he was sparked to support the tac-net he bears, and that it begins to shut down without work to do. I believe the prospect of existing with the tac-net shut down terrifies him to his very spark."
"I would not be surprised," Dai Atlas rumbled with a deep gust of an ex-vent. "His kind, the mecha sparked for a specific high-echelon function, can rarely handle having that function taken from them."
Thorn nodded, relieved that they seemed to grasp it better than he did. "Prowl is not ready to function as a part of the city. I believe he can learn to live as one of us, but first we are going to have to calm his processors so that he can focus on something else beside the fear and stress his systems are causing him. It isn't much, to him, but I was hoping you would agree to let him take over some of the administrative duties here in the Citadel."
There was a brief moment of silent communication between the pair and Axe nodded. "We will see what we can entrust him with. I am sure there are some things he can manage. Scheduling shifts for cleanup and the like. Things that can be easily reviewed."
"I will speak to the City Council as well," Dai Atlas added as Axe began scrubbing his right wing again, working to get off a stubborn streak of black. "There is a great deal out there that requires little clearance to manage. It is not optimal, but if he was indeed sparked to support his tac-net, the most important thing will be to keep the tac-net content. If it is not content, Prowl will never be able to focus on what we are trying to teach."
"How much of the library has he read?" Axe asked curiously. "That might help keep him busy."
"All of it that I have been able to give him access to. It took him less than seven orns to sort and compile all it had to offer him." Thorn sighed, his own distress showing once more. "That was the first thing I tried. I took him mecha watching this orn, but he was so distressed it only distracted him a little."
"Because he lacks a function?" Dai Atlas wanted to know for sure.
"Yes," Thorn nodded. "I don't think he'll ever be social, but even as stressed as he was he was able to learn a little."
"That's a miracle in and of itself," Axe murmured. "We will do what we can to ease his stress over his function."
"Thank you. I should go rescue Demeter now, I think." Thorn replied, excusing himself and letting himself out the same way he had come. He dropped down to his balcony and could hear the warmth and gentle bliss in Prowl's voice before he could make out the words. He entered quietly, listening and taking in the whole scene. Prowl, relaxed and speaking to a patiently attentive Demeter sprawled nearby.
::How long has he been like this?::
::Ever since I asked him to describe paradise,:: she replied, somewhere between bemused, pleased and a touch disturbed. ::He is right. He doesn't think like any kind of mecha I know.::
Prowl glanced up and canted a wing in greeting to Thorn, but otherwise simply continued describing flowing through datastreams with a voice that most used to describe a true love.
::You can go any time you wish.:: Thorn informed her, nodding in greeting to Prowl as he settled nearby to listen and contemplate.
::I will. For now, this is fascinating,:: she grinned up at him.
With a replying smile, Thorn settled in to listen, and really listened to his charge. Not just the words, but the tone, the harmonics and sub-harmonics, the exact glyphs and modifiers chosen, the frame language that Prowl was still less than perfect at controlling. It was incredibly informative, and it gave Thorn the germ of an idea to begin building a bond with his charge.
Prowl was very, very lonely. It may not be in the traditional sense, but lonely was lonely and Thorn could use that.
::Redline, please send me what you have on gestalt and host psychology. Prowl's neither, but it seems he was sparked to be part of the City of Praxus's network. Always in contact and communicating with the AIs and components of the city, and probably the planet. He's expressing loneliness at the loss. I think there might be a way to help him with minimal risk to security. If we can give him something close to what he views as paradise, he may well not want to leave.:: Thorn left the message with their chief medic to get back to him on in the morning. It was nothing that he could do anything with tonight.
Prowl's recounting wound down and he focused on Thorn. "How did the meeting go?"
"Very well," the black Knight smiled warmly. "Dai Atlas and Axe have agreed to put you in charge of much of the non-critical scheduling for the Citadel." He smiled a bit more at the way Prowl's wings perked up. "We realize it's far from a full usage of your tac-net, but we hope it would give you something to occupy it."
"It is a beginning," Prowl's voice was rich with a hope, even if it was just a tiny one, that he hadn't had before. "There are ... other ways to assist my systems under stress," he said hesitantly, his wings tucking in towards his frame. "I may dislike physical contact, the reminder that I am so restricted now, but having the fields of others close to mine is a comfort."
"A touch a bit like what you had before, when recharge was never completely shutting down?" Demeter asked.
"I still don't," Prowl said simply. "The tac-net is not designed to do so without medical intervention. It is only the parts of my processor that deal with my frame that shut down."
Thorn managed not to twitch at the concept of never recharging, never being able to stop processing at a high rate, but he couldn't stop his tanks from roiling in objection to the torture that the current situation must be for his charge. To go from being plugged into an entire planet all the time to being plugged in whenever he wasn't tending to his frame's needs to ... not even having something that qualified as a function anymore.
No wonder Prowl was unstable and likely depressed.
It was a moment more before Thorn realized that Demeter didn't seem surprised.
::You know something I don't?:: he pinged her.
::I know a lot that you don't about the real world,:: she chuckled, her tone dark in the way he had learned meant he was about to get a lesson in the brutality they'd left behind. ::They were called osa. Sparked components of a larger whole. Many cities had their core built around a city-former that could transform, but these sparks were tied into systems that never moved, never rested. Work for an AI, but when an AI wasn't good enough. Prowl's one of those sparks that took to it, and they just had to pull him, of all sparks, out. Most went insane. Sometimes it worked.::
Thorn could only sigh silently and focused on Prowl. "I did mean it when said you were welcomed in my berth anytime you wanted."
"That typically includes an expectation to interface," Prowl pointed out mildly.
Privately Thorn cursed himself for being lazy. He'd been around mecha who knew him nearly his entire existence and had the same culture grilled into them until it was reflex. The Knights here had either watched him mature from a rough, aggressive mechling to the quiet, thoughtful mech he was now, or he'd watched them mature. Either way, it had been ages since someone didn't simply know the expectations from his sub-harmonics.
"My apologies, Prowl. It was not my intent to imply that I expected anything from you to recharge with me," Thorn said softly, his field full of his remorse. "I only intended to express my willingness to be company, much as you've just described wanting. A warm frame and calm field to help sooth the stress."
A tiny, shy smile curved Prowl's lip plates for a brief moment. "Then I will take you up on your offer. I do miss the subtle company."
"Mind if I join?" Demeter asked when she was sure they had settled things.
"So long as you understand it is only to recharge, I do not object," Prowl smiled briefly at her.
"Good," Thorn relaxed and stood. "Then let's go to my berth to recharge?" he offered a hand to his charge and whiled when it was accepted. It felt like real progress had been made this orn. More progress than on any other orn, and it felt good.