Chapter 005: Prowl
Thunderblast entered the living room again not too long after Mikaela had left for the kitchen. She smiled at her patient who was still lying on her stomach. "Mikaela looks like she's a good nurse."
Elita smiled up at Thunderblast. "Yes, yes she is."
"Here, let's go upstairs and find you some clothing," Thunderblast said as she helped Elita One to her feet. "We'll have to dress you in some of the boys' clothes though. Mine would never fit your frame."
Elita examined her compatriot and came to much the same conclusion. "I would think not. You're much slimmer than I."
The two females made their way to the second floor, and Elita-Companion was led into a mid-sized bedroom. To a human the room would feel a little small, but to Elita it felt positively miniscule. The room was decorated in browns and pale creams, but the Spartan nature of the furniture was what really cemented the fact that this was a male's room. That and the pile of clothes on the floor near the closet.
Thunderblast strode to the bureau next to the far wall and opened up a drawer. "Starscream's shirts should fit you, but you'll need a belt for his pants. They'll be a little big even on your Companion's generous hips."
Elita-Companion had frozen when she heard the name. "Did you say . . . Starscream?"
Thunderblast-Companion turned and gave Elita a queer look. "Yes," she answered, "Starscream. He wouldn't mind giving you clothes at all. I swear, the way that mech goes about giving away all he's got for a good cause . . . Sometimes it's quite maddening."
Elita-Companion was still silent. Thunderblast cocked her head in a feline gesture. "What's wrong? Is Starscream someone bad back where you came from?"
"Yes, he's the right hand of evil."
Thunderblast-Companion looked utterly taken aback. "Surely you're joking."
Elita-Companion's face didn't change.
"Okay, you're not joking," Thunderblast-Companion said as she sat down heavily on the bedspread. "He's really a bad guy there?" she asked with a note of complete disbelief.
"Yes, he's a bad guy where I'm from," Elita-Companion answered quietly. "It's that Starscream's fault that we're here."
"'That Starscream'?"
Elita-Companion glanced out the window to the barn that she knew housed her Handler. The Handlers had just been joined by another, so she knew that Starscream-Companion was now in the house. Her Handler could see his Handler moving around the front part of the barn. Her team was huddled in the back awaiting Thunderblast-Handler's medical treatment. "I have already come to the conclusion that you and your band are much different than the ones that I have known. I am willing to give you all a chance. I would have never imagined that I would say this, but I begin to trust you Thunderblast."
Thunderblast-Companion grinned. "I am glad then. I sort of like you."
Elita-Companion returned the gesture. "And I you."
The two shared another moment before Thunderblast turned to the task of finding clothing suitable for Elita-Companion. She dug through Starscream's clothes and finally pulled out a pair of well-worn jeans and a tank top. "Here, the jeans should fit and the tank top has elastic properties."
Elita-Companion took the clothing and quickly donned the jeans and shirt. The jeans felt very alien against her skin, but the cotton and polyester tank top felt a little better.
Thunderblast-Companion shook her head as she examined Elita's ensemble. "No, let's do this!"
Thunderblast dug around in Starscream's bureau and found a button-up shirt. Elita put on the shirt, and Thunderblast-Companion tied it underneath Elita-Companion's breasts. Elita glanced at herself in the mirror. The combination of white tank and dark blue shirt did nice things for her coloration. She actually sort of liked these clothes. "My thanks," she murmured.
"Come on then. Let's go get something in your Companion's stomach. You must be famished."
Prowl-Companion sat in the corner of the kitchen on his favorite padded bench, listening to the intriguing conversation but not participating. His amber eyes took in the scene of the human female holding court over his comrades with a small smirk of humor. He liked this human, but he kept out from under the others. He knew he was merely tolerated because of his "brother".
Being a former Decepticon could do that for one.
He glanced up at the one known as his twin. Barricade and he were actually related - but only distantly. Barricade was one of his descendents through one of his siblings; neither mech was entirely sure which one. Prowl was old, much older than any of the Autobots. He had not seen the first of the Cybertron Wars, but he'd seen many since on the side of the Decepticons. However, this last time he'd finally gotten tired of dealing with the Decepticon intrigues and thrown in with the Autobots. Prowl-Companion picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. It was that moment that he caught sight of her.
She was exquisite. Prowl liked his femmes with some meat on their bones and some metal on their struts, and damn if she didn't have both. In the barn out back he hadn't gotten a good look at her Handler because she'd been blocked by Thunderblast-Handler as the medic repaired her injured back, and of course in the house she'd been upstairs. Now he could see both halves of her, and both Handler and Companion were sexy beyond belief. :Is this your Elita-One?: he sent to his descendant.
Barricade-Handler nudged him in the barn, and Barricade-Companion looked his way with a small smile. He'd caught the interest in his ancestor's tone. :Yes. She's a beauty isn't she? Hard to believe that she was once the leading lady of the Decepticons in our world hunh? From all accounts, she's an exact replica of the one from our world.:
Prowl didn't entirely follow Barricade's explanation, but he got the gist of it. :No, I can see it.:
:How?:
:Look at the way she moves. She's a warrior, no doubt about that,: he answered.
The warrior lady in question chose that moment to glance over at him, and their eyes and optics collided. She was giving him a curious look, and Prowl decided to give her something he rarely gave anyone. He smiled.
Her answer was just as quick. "Well, you are quite the surprise."
Prowl's grin grew. "How so?"
"I was expecting you to be a Decepticon."
Her admission startled a laugh out of him. "Why's that?"
She gave him a dry stare. "From my observations of this world, everyone I knew as a Decepticon has become an Autobot, and everyone who was an Autobot is a Decepticon. From your position in my world I induced that you would be a Decepticon here."
"Because I'm an Autobot in your realm," he mused aloud, still quite amused by her explanation.
"One of the highest ranking," she further explained. "The Prowl I knew was even injured in the attack that started the war in my realm, as you put it."
Prowl nodded respectfully. "Well, your induction was correct, I used to be a Decepticon, but I decided to throw in with the Autobots."
She looked curious now. "I see," she murmured. She then gestured in the kitchen to the spot next to him on the bench, and in the barn to the spot next to him on the tarp-covered hay that created a seat.
"Pop a squat," he said jovially, using an Earth phrase that he particularly liked.
Her Companion's nose wrinkled adorably as she did as he bid. Her Handler sat like most of her type would - with her legs firmly planted on ground and her spinal column straight -, but her Companion sat with her legs curled under her. She leaned towards him slightly, showing all who could see that she was comfortable being around him.
Out of this group, she was the only one who was except for Barricade.
"I apologize for my abrupt speech," she murmured. "You surprised me. I am Elita-One by the way."
He gave her a wolfish grin. "I do not mind and I know. My name is Prowl as you've guessed. So, Elita-One, why are you here?"
She gave him a look that indicated that she was perfectly aware of his flirting. Her answer and face was completely serious. "I have no idea whatsoever."
"I'm doing the best I can," she hissed across time and space at him. "But we've hit upon some . . . Difficulties."
"Difficulties Lady Arcee? The Fallen will not be pleased," he answered calmly. "We must find the Allspark and destroy the insurgent Megatron. Already the rebels that Starscream left on Cybertron are causing problems. If Starscream makes good on his threat and finds Megatron there will be no avoiding more war. You know as well as I that the only reason we triumphed the first time was because Megatron disappeared. Without him the Autobots have no chance. If they find him, they will."
Arcee nodded. "I will continue with my original course of action, but I need to know what The Fallen wants done about our new arrivals. I would love to go with my gut and just kill them, but I would prefer to know what my lord wishes, Ironhide."
He leaned forward, a smirk written across his face. "I'll get back to you on his reply," he said.
Arcee nodded and stiffly cut the communication.
Ironhide leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen. He knew Arcee's real intent behind the question of what to do about the new elements that had shown up in this little drama. She wanted her kill of this new, strange Elita to be sanctioned. Ironhide didn't care one way or the other just as long as Lady Arcee prevented Megatron from rising again. Megatron was the only mech in the galaxy who could challenge The Fallen for the right to rule Cybertron. At this time only the Sentinels knew why Megatron was so dangerous to The Fallen's rule, but Hide had no illusions about how quickly the Cybertronian people could be informed.
He rose and strode from the communications center through the forbidding metal fortress that was the Temple of Simfur. When he reached the throne room he bowed low at his waists. "My lord, I have the report from Earth."
The rumble of The Fallen's voice filled the room. "Continue."
Ironhide stepped into the room further and waved the doors closed. "Lady Arcee reports that the Autobots have been sighted, and they made contact with the boy who possessed the map. Unfortunately, he did not have it and the Autobots recovered the person who did. What's more, there is a new wrinkle in all of this," Ironhide explained.
"A new wrinkle?" The Fallen inquired. He shifted in his seat, his Handler's immense bulk hidden by shadows. His Companion was sprawled lazily in the special seat built into all Handler-sized furniture for the Companion. Ironhide could only see The Fallen's Companion because of a well-placed shaft of light. The rest of him was left in shadow. Ironhide knew it was to intimidate those who sought audiences with him.
"During a confrontation with the Autobots Barricade and Frenzy, a strange group of Autobots appeared. According to readings taken at the time by Killerbee, the group came through a gate that had trace samples of Allspark energies."
The Fallen leaned forward in his seat, waving away the monitors that had been hovering at his sides. "He's sure?"
"Ratchet confirmed," Ironhide answered. "But that is not what I think will interest you the most."
"Cheeky of you," The Fallen murmured. "What do you believe will interest me so?"
"May I show you?" Ironhide asked.
"I grow weary of teasing," The Fallen said sweetly, "But I will make an exception for you Ironhide. Show me."
Ironhide sent the image to one of The Fallen's monitors and waited in silence to see his lord's reaction. The Fallen was silent for a long moment, staring at the image on the screen. The image was taken by Arcee and showed a femme lying on the ground, semi-conscious. Rust-red hair haloed the female Companion's face, and Ironhide felt a stirring of appreciation for the sight of her pale face against the vivid shade of her hair and the armor of the same shade beneath her cheek. Her Companion was lying atop her Handler's torso, and both halves wore the same disoriented look on their faces. Aesthetically, it was quite the pretty sight.
"Elita-One," The Fallen breathed. His Companion's face for a moment was unguarded, and Ironhide saw the lust and obsession. "Ironhide!"
"Yes?"
"Contact Arcee. Tell her I want that femme captured," The Fallen stated. "Do it now."
"Yes my lord." Ironhide bowed and left the room.
The Fallen watched him go and then turned his attention back to the image still on his monitor. He reached out and his digits, both gloved and metallic, gently followed the curve of her jaws. "You will be mine," he murmured to her image. "I will not lose you again. Ever."
"Sir, you have a call."
He turned from his contemplation of the skyline of Mission City to face his young secretary. Her face was elfin underneath the demure glasses she wore, her blue eyes shining with intelligence. "It's from William."
He nodded and picked up the telephone. "Yes?"
"We're nearing the outskirts of Tranquility now. We'll be there in half an hour tops."
"Good," he answered. "William, be careful. I have a feeling about this."
"Noted," William answered. "I'll be extra careful sir."
"Much luck."
"Thanks sir," William replied before cutting the connection.
"Ms. Beak," he asked, "Would you see to readying rooms for our guests? They'll be arriving sometime tonight."
"As you wish sir."
