Ratchet POV
I carried the femme in my arms quickly across the shore line, my processors swimming with worry. The femme hadn't had any fire wall updates or even any type of defensive software installed. I was worried for her mental health, worried that if I went in to do to much it would do more harm than good.
Now I see that I was wrong. I needed to go through her processor, I needed to check to see how her mental state was. To see what damage was done to what areas, from both when she was a human and now.
Walking into med-bay I shut the door in the faces of the three Datsuns following me. For extra precaution I entered the security code to keep them from entering. Looking over at her I could feel the spark in my chassis tug.
She could barely online, her systems stalling and keeping her under. She suddenly seemed very young to me, something that disturbed me greatly. She was in her adult frame, and yet something about her screamed youth and innocence.
Sighing, I walked past her and grabbed a large machine with many cables and cords. It was called a Processor Synthesizer. A machine used more for interrogation now than for medical purposes; it was something that saddened me to no end. Tools built for healing were now used to torture.
.:Prowl to Ratchet.:. I huffed, but answered anyways. I needed to get started, but a quick glance at the femme told me she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
.:Yes Prowl?:. I snapped irritably.
.:Please let me know when you are finished examining the femme.:. The SIC's smooth voice came back completely calm. No matter how slagged off and rude I was, he was always fragging calm. It irritated me to no end, and yet I respected it.
.:Fine, but keep your siblings busy. Ratchet out.:. With that I cut the com. Link and turned to the green femme on the berth. Shaking my helm I gently shifted her onto her abdomen and opened the back of her cranial unit.
Looking over the back of her helm I picked up one of the cables and carefully inserted it. It had been awhile since I had used this machine, but I still remembered where everything went luckily. Within a few breams I had a labyrinth of cables and cords leading from the back of her helm to the machine.
I turned on the machine so it could do its scanning of her processor, looking through all of her files and into her coding. Checking her processors for any damage what so ever. Looking at the last little slot I slowly sat down beside her, pulling out my cable jack I slid it into the slot and closed my optics.
The familiar void acted as a vacuum pulling my cognitive state from my own frame and into hers. Within moments I was within her processor. Everything was scrambled, it was a wonder that the poor thing could even function properly.
With a gentleness sparked from millions of vorns of being a medic I slowly shifted carefully through her processor. Everything seemed rattled, trampled, sifted through with no heed of caution. It made me angry that someone would do this; it was low even for a Con.
Her basic files gave way to more intimate bits: her memory and emotion core. I took a cursory glance at the basic files and inwardly snorted, the machine could sort those.
However, I needed to personally go through her memory and emotion core to check on her. The computer wouldn't be able to do it accurately, but I could. I paused before the core of her being, and gave an internal wince.
What I was about to do was extremely intrusive; I was delving into her very consciousness. Seeing her very being through her optics. It was almost as intrusive as seeing a bot's spark. I frowned, thinking back on when she was a human.
How badly was she damaged by her mech creator, mentally wise that is? She seemed to be healing rather nicely, but that didn't mean anything. I'd seen bots who had made themselves look perfectly stable, and yet on the inside they were the most insane of the bunch.
Of course you also had bots like Redalert who showed how bad off they really were. Huffing wearily I pressed forward, a bright glow seemed to engulf my consciousness and then I was one with her cognitive core processor.
XXX
Soft laughter bubbled up in my throat while I played with my mom; I was only two years old. Not old enough to understand why she was always in trouble with my father.
"Mommy! Mommy! Look a' wha' I got!" I held up a single white flower, a gentle laugh fell from her lips. She picked me up and held me close to her, nuzzling our faces together.
"Oh aren't you such a sweet girl!" I giggled softly; but like all things, our fun had to end.
I looked up as the door burst open, my father stalking in with the distinct smell of booze lingering on him.
"You bitch!" My father slurred before smacking my mother. My eyes were wide, filled with tears as he ground his foot down on my flower. The white petals shredding and tearing, just like my innocence. My fathers drunken form beat my mother, and I was powerless to do anything but watch...
-blood staining white flowers. Evil tainting all that is pure.-
I was five, my father snagging me by my hair as I tried to run from him. A loud cry of pain left my lips; he hated it when I cried.
He brought his fist to the side of my chubby cheek, tears swelling up in my eyes as I cried and wailed loudly. I tried to crawl away from his angered frame, fear welling up inside of me.
"Stop wailing!" He pulled out a knife and grabbed me by my hair again. I let out another wail of agonizing fear, then blood spattered the floor as he slid his knife across my throat. He grinned evilly and picked up a phone.
"You're not getting off as easily as that whore you called your mother!" He dialed in something and pretended to sob.
"Hello, 911! It's my daughter! I was cooking and she came over and grabbed my wrist, before I could stop her the blade hit her throat! Please, come quick!"
Sirens wailed in the night, paramedics 'comforting' my father. I was loaded up and sent to the ER for immediate surgery. I would never be able to talk again. The police asked no questions, they just sent me back to the monster.
Again and again I was sent back to the monster, after every visit. Police officers, medics, anyone of authority always sent me back. I began to harbor a deep hatred, and fear, for authoritative figures. After all, why should I respect those who didn't help those in need. They pledged to help others, and yet they sent me back. They. Sent. Me. Back.
-blood staining the white, vanity and greed stealing the innocence. Seven deadly sins reenacted over and over again. Falling, calling, silently begging for help. A silent plea unheard...-
I sat in the classroom, ten years old now. Other children shunned me; I went unnoticed by the teachers. I wasn't even registered on the radar; I was a blip that was forgotten as soon as I appeared.
-Falling, calling, silently begging for help. A silent plea unheard...-
Thirteen now, blood stained my pants. I had heard of other girls talking about this, it was normal right? I swallowed and covered myself with rags, hiding the rust that fell from my core.
Agony searing my innards. Was I okay? I had no one to ask, my mother was dead. I only had the monster here.
-Crimson stained the white, a slicing blade across thy throat. A rose falling from its stem and turning black without its hope-
Sixteen today, no birthday acknowledgment yet again. Looking up at the sky as I sat on the roof I wondered again about my mother. Silently a tear slid down my face.
Was she proud of me? Did she miss me? I sure did miss her, even if she was only a blurry figure of my memories. Father said she left because of me, was that true? I shivered and let out a silent sob, my teeth clenching as tears fell on my clenched fists.
I was alone, so utterly alone.
-innocence and instinct, pride and humility. The basic compositions of a person, but I was none, who was I?-
Laying there in the forest, pain sweeping through me. A gentle voice, soothing hands.
-they gave me back... m-m-mommy help me!-
Agony taking over, I was changing. Metal exploding out, skin disintegrating.
-You lied! It was a bet?!-
I'd traded one prison for another...
-m-m-mommy help me!-
XXX
I quickly pulled out of her memory core. I was disoriented. Her memories were so scattered, so full of incredible amounts ofagony. She was so young, way too young to have a mate, and yet she acted like an adult.
She feared authoritative figures; that was why she often bowed up at Prowl. She was scared he would give her back to her sire. Her sparkling like consciousness telling her he was bad, that he meant her harm.
Wearily I moved into her emotion core. Nothing was stable, everything scattered like it had been hit by a shrapnel bomb. I winced; she was scared of us, all of us. Everyone, but Blue. I had seen how he was with her in her memories. Her memories of him were very clear. I saw how he held her, how he kissed her, how he made love with her.
She craved his touch not as a mate, but as something immutably stable. She didn't know what she wanted, so she bonded with him. Her systems were too young, too innocent. She was, but a mere youngling and that was stressing it! She had the core stability of a sparkling!
Pulling from her consciousness I opened my optics and unplugged my cable. I was trying to restrain my anger and repulsive feelings toward her sire. Toward the adults and various authorities she had had experience with in her life cycle.
The reason she had never come to speak with one of them openly was now known. I had to report this to Prime, Prowl, and Jazz. I checked to make sure that she was still in deep stasis; the machine wasn't even near being finished processing. I winced at that. Primus, we have a lot to fix.
I couldn't believe that I hadn't caught this earlier! I was furious with myself. I was the best damned medic on Cybertron, how had I missed this?
.:Ratchet to Prowl:.
.:Prowl here:.
.:Gather Prime and Jazz in the war room for a meeting.:.
.:Affirmative. Permission for the status of the femme?:.
.:I'll tell you more when I get there, but she is stable.:.
.:Good, the meeting will start in a bream. Prowl out.:
With that the connection was cut. I walked down the hallways, watching for humans. The memories of the femme were replaying over and over in my helm. How has she survived this long? It was no wonder her psyche was starting to crumble!
She was glitching almost as bad as Redalert from the stress on her systems. She needed a stable guardian to remedy the problem. Stepping into the war room I looked over the three waiting mechs and hit the security key, the door wouldn't open to anyone from the outside now.
I then pressed another button making the sound-barrier shields come up. Now we wouldn't have to worry about eavesdroppers. Such as the twins... I thought with a grumble.
"Ratchet, old friend. Why have you called this meeting?" I turned to look at the Prime, my optics grim.
"I called it because I have news on the femme."
"News? What? Is she ill or somethin'?" Jazz rumbled from his spot. His visor darkening to a deep indigo, almost black. The usual sign of him masking his true emotions, but I knew him all too well. He was worried. After all, Jazz had taken to looking at her in a sibling type of fashion.
I leaned forward with a heavy sigh, rubbing the metallic plates that made up my fore helm. I was exhausted mentally, my processors swirling with the data. She was just a youngling? She had seemed older as a human by the way she acted, I had just presumed... yet she had a guardian, which should have been my first clue!
"Ratchet?" I looked up to see the three mechs watching me, my fists clenched on the table. Sucking in a deep vent I let it rush out in an overheated huff.
"When I was scanning the femme's processor I came across sensitive information pertaining to her past as a human. Everything up until this point I have looked through thoroughly, whilst the Synthesizer is going through her programming to look for any problems there."
"Ahm sensin' a bug." Jazz rumbled softly. His lip plates no longer showing human, but instead were set in a deep line of aggravation. Sighing heavily I looked at Optimus, my spark pulsing painfully in my chassis.
"I don't know how I didn't catch it faster, she's so young Optimus. Young and not innocent at the same time. She has experienced much and in time it has made her far older than she should be. However, her core processors are still functioning in the rhythm of that of a late sparkling to early youngling."
All was silent, all but swirling vents and thrumming systems. Suddenly Prowl leaned forward, his digits tapping at a data pad. He always did that when he was uncomfortable or stressed. By the stance of his door wings I would say that he was uncomfortable.
"If that is the case Ratchet, then how did her programming allow her to bond with my sibling? A youngling's programming protects little ones from these kinds of rash decisions."
I scowled and leaned back, again letting my gaze drift over my fellow officers. The three mechs I had fought with for millennium, healed them, ran after them like a fem-bot to keep them in line even. Huffing I offlined my optics and set my helm in my servos.
"She doesn't have those kinds of programs Prowl. They were never set up because we automatically assumed she was old enough to handle herself!" I snarled angrily, pain pulsing in my spark at the realization that this femme was still very much way too young. She was far too young for the intimacies of Bluestreak, far too young for war, and way too scared to let us help her.
"So you are saying that the femme is still a minor and therefore should not be able to make decisions by herself?" Optimus asked softly, leaning forward to place his large servos on the table top.
I lifted my helm and flicked my optics back online, gazing up at the regal Prime. His optics shadowed in concern for the little one. I huffed another sigh and nodded.
"That's exactly what I'm saying. She needs a guardian to help her. She may be in her adult frame, but she is far too young of processor to be by herself."
"What about Blue? They're bonded." I looked at Jazz silently, worry turning to irritation. Scowling I looked back up at Optimus.
"I know that she is bonded Jazz! However, restrictions need to be made to protect her." I saw the way Prowls door wings went rigid, optics flashing a crystalline blue.
"Protect her?" Prowl rumbled the words deathly silently. His optics narrowing in on me, I tensed realizing how that could have been taken. Prowl maybe act sparkless, like a drone at times, but I knew how protective he was of his siblings.
"Prowl, I do not mean to protect her from Blue. I mean to protect her from herself and Cons." Prowl seemed to relax slightly, wings flicking.
"I apologize for my assumption. Aside from that, there is the concern of who shall be her guardian. She is going to need someone stable and responsible." Jazz suddenly sent a leering look to Prowl, a smirk on his lip plates. His visor now glowing a steady azure.
"Why not you Prowler?" His optics darted to Jazz, wings tensing up into a sharp 'V' from surprise. He suddenly looked like a petro deer in the helm lights. I gave a feral grin of amusement.
"You are absolutely correct Jazz. Prowl would be best suited for such a task." My amusement faded into seriousness after a few moments of thinking over this.
"She's terrified of Authority figures, I could see it from her processors. The only reason she's not as intimidated of Jazz is because of his personality."
Jazz frowned and leaned back, kicking his pedes up onto the table while placing his servos behind his helm. I gave him a pointed stare when he did that, he just grinned cheekily back. Prowl huffed and glanced at us, his optics narrowing as if to say silently 'you are all conspiring against me'.
"If the femme is terrified of us, then why choose me?" Optimus leaned forward after Prowl had spoken, his optics intense. The deep sapphire coloration burning into the three of us.
"If this is so, then she must be shown that not all authority figures are going to bring her harm."
"Optimus, if I may, I find it pertinent to get back to med-bay as soon as possible. She should be onlining very soon; however, I would like to suggest that you and Prowl come with me." Jazz suddenly huffed.
"What am ah, chopped livah?" I grimaced at the human expression. Looking at the saboteur I shook my helm tiredly.
"No, but I would prefer the more serious ones to be there. The sense of calm they emit would surely relax her more then your... eccentrics." Jazz pouted but said nothing more, his visor glowing dimly with irritation.
Fraggin' mech acts more like a youngling then the femme! Standing up I quickly turned the sound-barrier off and took down the security override. I could feel the presence of Optimus and Prowl hovering behind me as I quickly stalked through the base and toward my med-bay.
Humans were beginning to change shifts now, as the ones from last night left and were replenished. It made navigating the halls difficult seeing as I did not wish to crush the organics, but not impossible. I quickly sent a mental command to my med-bay doors, they opened flawlessly.
The metal plates splitting and sinking into the walls, the crimson cross that adorned them splitting in half. Stepping through with the two mechs not to far behind I quickly made my way to the femmling. She was still offline thankfully, but the machine was blipping.
I pressed a button on the top of the machine, the cords and cables connecting to the femme's helm disengaged with a hiss. Walking forward, I gently closed the seal on the back of her cranial unit manually.
Turning away from her, I looked at the beeping machine and hooked up a smaller slender cable with a flat port from my wrist to the main port on the piece of technology. I offlined my optics and began sorting through the millions of terabytes worth of information. A soft humming noise left my vocal cords as I opened one file after another.
Scanning initiated...
…..firewalls: nonexistent...
…..memory core:
*Long term: damaged...
*Short term: corrupted...
…..processors: tampered...
…..extent of cognitive damage: extensive...
…..Memory Storage:... 50%
…..Stability of coding protocols: 40% working capacity... 13% working efficiently...
…..Basic Subroutines: …..damaged... damaged...
…..internal software: …...corrupted... tampered... corrupted... 30% undamaged.
…..Internal com links:... damaged...
…..Transformation cog:... 100% working capacity
…...Core processors:... tampered.
…..Detection: unknown programming
*Scanning unknown programming: …. scanning... scanning... programming labeled.
…..Programming: Slave gestalt.
…..Programming state: Active
I initiated the launch sequence and allowed the machine to copy all of the information onto my medical storage database. Creating a back up file, I saved it in my personal Internal Computer System and sent it to my data-pads.
Unplugging from the machine I onlined my optics and shook my helm. Anger swelling up inside of me, irritation at what was being done to her processor consuming my spark like a chemical fire.
"What is it old friend?" I looked up at Optimus, a tick forming in my jaw strut. I ground my denta together, fists clenching with a creak of metal.
"The only thing not damaged is her Transformation Cog! Everything else has been tampered with, corrupted, and damaged." I was more than a little slagged off.
The fragging Con was destroying her mentally without even touching her! But why does he want her so badly that he would harm her processors? Why does she have that... I froze. Slave Gestalt programming. It wasn't normal gestalt programming like the Arial Bots, Techno-Bots, or Protecto-Bots.
This was the type of programming that Soundwave and Blaster had. Programming built for cassettes. I looked up at the two mechs, optics narrowing dangerously.
"I think I know what is it that Soundwave wants. He-" Before I could finish the thought I picked up on systems onlining. Turning away from Optimus and Prowl I gave them a 'later' look.
They nodded as I quickly made my way over the little fem-bot. I paused, hurried over to a cabinet, and grabbed medical mid-grade for her. Walking back over to her I calmly looked down at her, watching her with hidden fury. Soundwave would not get his servos on her, not if I had anything to say about it.
Her optics dimly lit up, systems obviously cycling sluggishly. I reached forward and brushed my digits against a wing panel. Immediately her optics snapped online. She sat up, abdominal plating resting against the berth with her fore-arms holding her up. She looked around in confusion, seeming disoriented.
"Wha...?" Even her vocalizer was struggling to online. I couldn't help the tugging at my spark, my optics softening. She is so young, how had I not seen it before?
Sighing heavily through my olfactory vents, I gently touched her shoulder joint. She jumped and looked up at me with wide optics, confusion on her face-plates.
"Easy, you're safe. Drink this; your systems are extremely depleted." She winced, but slowly rolled over to sit on her aft and took the cube with weak digits.
"Thank-you." The words were muttered, weak, and soft. I sighed and looked back at the other two mechs in the room.
.:Looks like we're back at square one with her. She's clammed up again.:. ~Ratchet
.:Indeed. We will have to be patient with her.: ~Optimus.
"Autumn." Said femme looked up at me, uncertainty in her optics. I could see a wavering trust in her optics, she didn't know if she should or shouldn't trust me. I didn't blame her after everything I had seen in her processors.
But- I reminded myself. She has been through much and needs us to be stable, something she can cling too. Offering a small smile to the femme, I turned to the other two mechs.
"You've met Optimus yes?" She looked wary, glancing at the regal mech before glancing at Prowl. The almost cold look he was sporting had her flinching. I sent Prowl an angered look, he huffed and gazed right back at me critically. Rolling my optics at Prowl; I nodded to Optimus, whom then stepped forward.
"Autumn. I understand that we have not communicated much in the past few months." The femme looked somewhere between the verge of crying and glitching. Her optics wide, holding the cube as if it would protect her from the great Prime.
It saddened me to see that expression, she was just one of many victims I had seen in my long medical career. A pang stabbed at my spark, she looked so lost and scared when looking up at Prime.
"I... I... Whatever I did I'm sorry." She squeaked out in obvious fear. Optics suddenly diverted and her frame shivering. Anger pulsated through me, ripping, and tearing at my spark.
If it weren't for my medical programming I would track down her creator and rip him limb from limb. Optimus let out a long low sigh of sorrow, regret shimmering in those sapphire depths.
"Little one, you have done no wrong deed to warrant such fears." She slowly looked back up, wings twitching every which way. Fear shimmering in her optics.
"I-I haven't? But then... why...?" Optimus stepped closer slowly, his optics intensely studying the femme. When she didn't flinch or make any signs of fear, he moved closer still and gently set his large servo on her dainty shoulder.
Her wings flicked as she gazed up at him, optics glimmering with suspicion. I winced inwardly, that memory loop has thrown her back quite a bit. It was going to take awhile to regain her trust; her processors were just too scrambled.
"I am here on your behalf. From what Ratchet has spoken of, your mental states are... questionable." The femme flinched and looked away, shame shimmering in the electric blue depths of her optics.
"For your safety and well being you shall be sharing quarters with Prowl for now." The femme looked up Optimus suddenly, as if he were insane. She looked at the SIC, then back to the Prime.
"But... I... Why?!" I smiled faintly, poor thing looked like she was on the verge of wanting to punch the Prime and try to make a run for it.
"You are far too young to be living by yourself. Much less having intimate relations." She stared at Prowl and then at Prime.
"This is just one big conspiracy! So what, now I'm a prisoner again?" The Prime seemed to recoil from such an assumption from the femme. I winced, even Prowl seemed stunned.
"Since when were you ever a prisoner? When have we ever done anything to make you feel as such?" She slowly looked up at Prowl, her optics flashing with a hidden emotion I couldn't detect.
"Since I became one of your kind! I'm nothing but a means to getting sparklings!"
I froze; my spark pulsating with an odd sensation. "Femme you are not a brood mare."
She looked right at me, optics glowing eerily beneath her white chevron. Her wings flicked back like the audios of a Petro Hound when it felt threatened.
"I am deeply saddened that you have felt as such, but know that we never thought that of you. For your protection Prowl will now be your Guardian, you will stay with him, and that is the end of this argument. Understood."
Optimus' tone held a finality to it, and yet he never raised his voice. It was a constant soothing rumble. The femmeling was glaring at him, her wings still down in that defensive pose.
"Clearly."
The Prime looked up at me and offered a nod. Pivoting he left the med-bay. Prowl however, stayed.
Autumn POV
I didn't remember much after I woke up. I remembered the beach incident, meeting Hound and the others.
I remembered my bonded, training with Jazz... but everything felt so twisted and foggy though. I remember my studies of Cybertron, but my only memories of the two mechs were of when I first onlined.
I couldn't help, but to feel safer with Ratchet. Something told me that the medic would keep me safe. I couldn't believe that the mech that hated me, the older sibling of my mate, was going to be my Guardian. I would have to live with him?
I watched the large blue mech with the flame decals, leave the room. The medic gave me a glance of encouragement and then left me with my fellow Praxian. I stared at the mech known as Prowl, and he at me.
"I am not positive as to how much you remember seeing as your memory banks have been damaged, so I shall simply reacquaint myself with you."
I gazed at him with non trusting optics. He had police decals, and the police didn't help anybody. They always sent me back to my tormentor, why would he be any different?
"My designation is Prowl, SIC of the Autobots, and I am the elder sibling of your mate, Bluestreak." I was quiet for a moment, gazing at him contemplating his words and trying to match it up with memories. After a moment a dim memory of the three Datsuns came up. A small tidbit of each clinging to them.
"Smokescreen is the eldest of all three of you..." I murmured more to myself than anyone else. Prowl nodded, watching me with a calculating gaze. I was trying to remember, I honestly was, but everything was so scrambled.
I could barely remember my own mate. Pain echoed deeply in my spark, what kind of mate was I if I couldn't even remember my other half properly? If I couldn't remember his family?
A soft keen left my lip-plates as I curled in on myself. Why couldn't I remember who they were? Who was the purple mech with the red visor that I kept seeing? I shivered and looked up at Prowl.
"I-I'm sorry... I can't... I can't..." Coolant welled up in my optics, pain tearing through me. I was going to be punished; I just knew I would be punished for not being able to answer him.
I was... I suddenly froze. I looked up, blinking the tears out of my blurry vision. A warm servo was rested on my helm gently, the cold blue optics of the SIC were on my own. After a moment his optics seemed to thaw.
"You are in no trouble for not being able to remember. I will help you retrieve your memories, but I ask only one thing." I shivered, optics wide in fear. What does he want?
"What's that?" I finally managed after a few moments. He smiled, actually smiled. I wasn't sure what to do, I was confused.
"Trust me." Trust him? That wasn't something easily asked. That was a lot to ask actually. How did I know he wouldn't break my trust?
"I do not require you to openly trust me now, but in the future you will hopefully." I felt some of my fear lesson, my spark slowing down as the tension in frame uncoiled just a little bit. He seemed honest.
"O-okay..." He retracted his servo from my helm; instead he held it in front of me rather than on me. I looked at his servo then up at his calm expression. Swallowing heavily I slowly took his servo. He gently pulled me up and grabbed my cube of mid-grade, placing it in my servos.
"Refuel, we will head to my quarters to get you settled in after." I nodded and quickly swallowed the mid-grade down. Not because I was excited, but because the stuff tasted nasty. Prowl took the empty cube and placed it in the recycling center for me.
He motioned for me to follow him, I silently trotted behind him out of the med-bay. I was trying to be obedient seeing as I really didn't want to be punished. If he was my guardian then that meant he had full rights to punishing me, and I knew how painful that could be.
We walked down a hallway, away from the humans and into the deeper regions of the west side of the base. This side seemed built for our kind, and only our kind. We had a rec room, communal showers, offices and lastly the quarters.
Prowl silently walked past the first hall of quarters, the second, and even the third. He made a right down the steel gray hallway, walking down it and past a few doors until he came to the last one on the right.
"The code is four-six-six-five-zero-nine (46-65-09) if you ever need to get in and I am not here." I nodded slowly, watching him type in the pass code and then place his servo on the flat scanning surface. An automatic voice welcoming us in sounded off as the door opened.
I slowly slunk in after my Guardian, looking around nervously. It was a wide spacious area with a living room of sorts. There was a 'kitchen' that connected to it, filled with energon and different minerals to add to it.
A large concrete 'couch' with softer carbon fiber cushions. There was even a smaller metallic table in front of it, with a glossy surface.
I slowly moved forward, unaware that Prowl had leaned back against the wall to study me. I slunk across the room, jumping at any little noise that was heard. Poking my helm around a door way I moved in to see a 'master bedroom'. It had a personal wash-rack connected to it.
Moving out I found a smaller, but still equally spacious, 'guest room' with its own personal wash-rack. Backing out of there I slunk back into the living room to see Prowl leaning against the wall and writing on a data-pad.