Prowl POV
The femme, even after losing more than half of her memories, was still very scared of me, and I found that to be very disturbing, because it meant that her fear of authority figures was now almost instinctual in organics, or basic programming for a Cybertronian. I slowly stepped forward seeing that she seemed to be ready to glitch. I knew all too well how painful that was, especially seeing as certain mechs, the terror twins, liked to make me glitch.
She was stuttering, unable to get the words out of her vocal processor. Cleaning fluid was building up in her optics. Sighing softly, I remembered that it helped Redalert when Inferno offered comforting touches when he was about to glitch.
So stepping forward I gently placed my servo on her helm. I wasn't sure what else to do, but it did seem to help. She was still now, the sounds of highly stressed systems slightly dieing down. Applying a bit more pressure from my servo, sort of like a safety blanket, I waited until she calmed just a bit more before speaking.
Her optics were wide when they slowly onlined and looked up at me, with a look that pulled at my spark almost painfully. I hadn't seen that expression since Bluestreak watched the fall of Praxus. He was but a sparkling and left alone with our creators, while Smokescreen and I were serving with the Autobots.
"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 watched her shiver, seeing the fear in her blue optics.
"What's that?" She finally managed to get the words out. I offered her a soothing smile, Smokescreen always said they were disarming to the little ones.
"Trust me." I murmured gently. I understood that it was a lot to ask of her, but I did not require her full trust right now. I knew how hard it was to trust another, especially after what I had seen and been through. After all, I was the one who sent my two siblings on the mission that almost got them offlined.
"I do not require you to openly trust me now, but in the future you will hopefully." I spoke the words with unfaltering honestly. I kept the smile small, but still gracing my lip components, and after a moment I was rewarded. She slowly relaxed under my servo, her optics holding a little less fear.
"O-okay..."
I slowly pulled my servo away from her helm, a flash of disappointment flaring in my spark. I frowned at that, but tried not to show it. Offering my servo I waited until she took it so that I could help her up.
Once she did take my servo, I gently pulled her to her pedes. Leaning around her tiny frame I grabbed her medical mid-grade energon.
"Refuel, we will head to my quarters to get you settled in after." I watched with faint amusement as she quickly chugged it down. I knew all too well how badly it tasted, I was in the med-bay often enough to know that. Once she was finished, I took the empty cube and placed it in the recycling center for her.
Turning I motioned for her to follow me, the sounds of her pedes moving after me was surprisingly soothing. She is quiet... too quiet....
I frowned, optics narrowing as I tried to figure out why. Had I done something to offend her? I thought back and didn't see anything to suggest that. Perhaps she is fearful I will punish her... I cringed inwardly.
The poor thing honestly thought I would hit her, didn't she? The only time I had ever even hit Bluestreak, was a quick smack to the aft when I caught him trying to steal something as a youngling, and that only once.
I sighed softly and led her down the hallways, keeping silent as we moved past the humans area and into Cybertronian 'territory'. I was quiet still as we walked through the first three hallways and into the fourth that held the officers quarters.
I walked down the hallway, the femmeling following behind silently. I pivoted to stand directly in front of the last door on the right, my personal quarters. Lifting up my servo I pressed a few buttons and placed it on the pad for recognition.
"The code is four-six-six-five-zero-nine (46-65-09) if you ever need to get in and I am not here." She nodded quietly, looking away. I frowned and breathed air out through my olfactory vents. The automated voice of our security system S.A.R.A. (Secure Automated Response Authority.)
It was our first Earth security system designed by Wheeljack, and until Redalert showed up- if he ever did- it would be what we would stick with. I was severely hoping that Redalert would show up soon, we needed our security chief; he was the best at what he did even if he was a bit... paranoid.
I waited for the femme, Autumn I reminded myself, to walk into the room first. I followed after her calmly, watching her slink in nervously. A part of me found the sight of her jumping at noises and cautiously investigating everything, to be quite... adorable.
She reminded me of the pet cyber kitten that Jazz brought home one time. Funny, the cyber cat was a femme as well; and if I remember correctly the cyber cat had the same skittish personality as Autumn does.
I leaned back against the wall, carefully arranging my door wings so that I wouldn't harm them. Crossing my arms I studied her movements, and responses. I watched her slowly investigate my berth room and then slink off to investigate the guest room, which would now be hers.
Sighing, I pulled a data-pad from my chassis and looked over the list of things that Ratchet had given me. Things he had found wrong with her processor so that I would know what to look for.
It was a long list, much to my dismay. The poor thing has had a very rough past indeed. I found it disturbing that her sire treated her in such a manner. Back on Cybertron younglings and sparklings were pampered and treated with respect, given love.
Yes they were disciplined still, but they knew they were cared about. It was something that this little one had never experienced. My servo clenched on the pad, the sound of pede steps entering the room had me looking up.
The femme seemed to be studying me, observing. I calmly held still, allowing her to do her thing much like Jazz had done with his cyber cat. After a few moments she slowly slunk over, optics glancing down at the floor instead of at me. I frowned, narrowing my own optics.
"I'm sorry that they're making me bunk with you... I'll try not to be a problem..." I froze; my optics wide. My battle computer thrumming to life to sift through her words and the sudden emotions. Only after my battle computer had sifted all of the 'illogical' emotions out and I was left calm and collected did I speak.
"Femme, you are no trouble." I winced inwardly. I had never thought much of it, but at the moment she didn't need someone who sounded and acted like a drone, she needed someone who was more warm and open. I huffed softly, the little femme looking up at me briefly and then away.
How did my talkative brother gain her trust and affections? Was it by being open? I frowned trying to process the best way to go about this, my tactical computers coming online and sorting through the information I had learned as well.
All of the ideas that came up had very little percentile rates of working. I huffed irritably; she immediately looked up with a startled expression. She stared up at me, and I down at her. For the longest time we just stood there like that, after a bit her optics dimmed. My wings twitched slightly, feeling the tell tail signs of energy depletion.
"Why don't you get some rest?" She looked up at me quietly before nodding and slinking off to her new berth room. As soon as she was gone I let out a quiet groan and walked over to the couch.
Sitting down gracefully I flicked my wings, letting them relax now that there was no one to read them. I looked back down at the data pad, reading Ratchet's report. I had read the brief profile on her, but an extensive medical report had not been available until now.
Designation: Autumn
Age: Youngling
Examination:
A thorough examination of her mental health has been conducted by me. From what I have I have seen, both from linking up to her systems and from my Processor Synthesizer are the following things:
Firewalls were found to be nonexistent
The memory core:
*Long term core: severely damaged
*Short term core: corrupted.
*I do not know how much of her memory has been deleted, tampered, and destroyed.
Processors have been tampered with.
Extent of cog. Damage was found to be extensive
Memory Storage is at 50% I am not sure as of yet, as to what has happened to the other half.
Stability of coding protocols is functioning at 40% working capacity. 13% of that is working efficiently.
Basic Subroutines are damaged, but not unfixable.
Internal software is all corrupted and tampered. Only 30% remains undamaged.
Internal com links have been damaged; those will have to be fixed immediately.
Transformation cog is at 100% working capacity.
Core processors have been severely tampered.
Detection of an unknown programming was found.
*I investigated this unknown programming and found it to be a Slave Gestalt programming. The same thing as Soundwave has, similar to Blaster's as well. However, Blaster's gestalt programming is a creator gestalt instead of slave gestalt.
I sighed heavily and reread the report. Leaning forward I placed the data pad down on the table and rested my rotary mid arm joints (elbows) on my thigh plating. For once in my life, I was actually contemplating on the one thing mechs usually did: 'what would Jazz do?'
I shook my helm with a snort, thinking about it. I honestly didn't know. Jazz was the best when it came to the femmes and little ones. His upbeat personality mixed with his 'trusting' aura made him a magnet for those two groups. Even most mechs liked him, there were very few who didn't.
.:Prowl to Jazz.:.
.:Jazz here. What ya need Prowler?:. I scowled, but decided to let this one pass. I don't know why I bothered telling him to not do that, once Jazz gave you a nickname you couldn't shake it. In short? You were fragged.
.:I... need your help.:. It was quiet for half a breem, when Jazz spoke again his voice was serious.
.:Ya don' usually ask for help. What ya need, just name it'.:.
.:-sigh- I admit, it is about the femme. I am not quite sure as of what I should do.:.
.:Is she rechargin?:.
.:I believe so.:.
.:Give me a nanoclick. Ah'll be right dere. Jazz out.:.
I sat in silence, wondering if I did the right thing by asking for Jazz's help. I then mentally admonished myself. Jazz is my best friend. If there was any bot I trusted with my whole spark it would be him.
After a moment I felt a 'ping' within my internal sensors. Someone was at the door. Standing, I silently walked to the doorway, but I paused. Pulling my acid pellet gun out by instinct. Opening the door I cautiously peered out to see Jazz.
"'Relax Prowler. Ah ain't no Con. Ya can put da weapon away." I huffed and put it back in subspace.
"One can never be too cautious, especially when they have a young spark to guard." Jazz nodded and offered me a lopsided grin when I moved out of the way to allow him in.
"True that." I smiled faintly. Jazz only ever lost his accent in the presence of those he trusted. It always sent a pang of honor through me when I heard him drop that accent, a deeper sense of humbleness always pulsated through me when he took off his visor.
After all, you didn't just expose yourself to someone you didn't trust. I moved to press the security key that would lock my quarters and secure it so that no one could get in or hear what happened within. I nodded to the couch, silently telling Jazz to make himself at home.
Jazz grinned and sauntered over, his deep blue optics shining in the low lighting of my quarters. His optics, unlike his ever changing mysterious visor coloration, were a deep azure. He leaned back on one side of the couch, pedes placed on the table top.
"So what's going on Prowler?" I sighed through my olfactory vents, I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I sat down beside him and pushed the data-pad towards him.
"See for yourself." I could see his curious expression, optics intense as he leaned forward to retrieve the pad. Clawed digits holding the data-pad gently, as if afraid it would break into a thousand pieces. I could see his grim expression, concern marring his usually friendly features.
"So what does exactly she remember?" I glanced over again to see him looking at me. Anger at the Cons quite clear on his face, his engine growling softly in his chassis. I frowned and looked down thoughtfully, my wings flicking.
"From what I was able to see she doesn't seem to remember too much of what has happened. I know she remembers you, she remembers my siblings and I only barely, but most everything else has been wiped from her processors."
A soft sigh reverberated from my long time friend, His optics were dark, a heavy aura radiating off of him.
"So she only remembers those who had a significant impact on her." I nodded silently, optics intense. Jazz shifted, placing his pedes back on the floor and folding his arms over his chassis.
"I would say just be patient. Things like this... they don't heal over a lunar cycle. Sometimes they don't heal at all. If that's the case then you'll just have to be supportive. You know that I'm always here for you as well, I always have been."
I smiled faintly, Jazz is a good mech. One of a kind. I nodded in understanding, flicking my wings yet again.
"That's what I figured, but I thought that perhaps you would be able to approach her better than I. Pit knows my battle computer and strategy processors couldn't think of anything that had an acceptable percentage rate of working."
"Prowler, Prowler, Prowler. The femmeling ain't some statistic you can calculate in a machine. She is a living, sentient, being. She could react in multiple ways; many different outcomes could come forth. Don't be all logical about this."
Here my millennium old friend leaned forward. Optics glowing brightly; clawed servo raising up to press a sharp digit gently against my chassis.
"Follow ya spark. I'll help if I can of course, but this is something you've got to figure out for yourself." I was silently, thinking over his words. Don't be logical? But how could I not be logical? It was all I had ever known.
I shook my helm feeling that familiar itching feeling of my processors overloading. Jazz placed his servo on my shoulder in concern as I closed my optics tightly, trying desperately not to glitch.
"1,072,432 divided by the square root of 74." My battle processors automatically responded to the numbers, cycling through it easily. The pressure lessened leaving me feeling exhausted but much calmer. I finally unshuttered my optics and looked at my friend.
"Thank-you." I shook my helm, the rest of the fog lifting. Jazz grinned and nodded before suddenly stilling. He tilted his helm toward the rooms. I looked at him curiously as he stood up and on stealthy pedes moved to the guest room. I followed behind him, creeping silently.
Autumn was curled up in a ball, her wings twitching and flicking. Faint keens leaving her as she curled into a tighter ball. Night terrors... Sorrow welled up in my spark. A youngling, no less a femme, shouldn't be suffering at the servos of creators and Cons.
Even if it was only in her recharge, but her fears had something to be based off of. And that made me all the more angry. Jazz slunk in, quietly. I almost stopped him. Almost. However, I was curious as to what he was going to do.
He crept closer to the berth and slowly sat down beside my charge, his clawed digits stroking across her trembling wings. I picked up on an ancient Cybertronian lullaby drifting through the air. Within moments her tiny frame relaxed; the keens and trembles shifting into contented purring and relaxation.
Jazz slowly stood and crept back out, glancing up at me he grinned. I merely smiled and shook my helm. How Jazz got so good at such random things, I would never know. He just always seemed to know what to do in every situation. Of course, spec bots had to be flexible.
"How did you do that?" I asked curiously. Jazz looked back at me and grinned. Denta flashing in the light, soft laughter rumbling through my quarters.
"If I told you then I would have to offline you." I rolled my optics and smirked at his words, they were always his excuse.
"What ever you say Jazz." He grinned and stretched out his frame. Soft hisses and pops echoing from his joints.
"Get some recharge Jazz, I shall contact you tomorrow." Jazz nodded and let his visor slip back in place.
"Sure! Ah'll see ya next solar cycle Prowler." I nodded and walked him to the door. Watching him as he stealthily sauntered down the hallway, a 'swagger' like gate in his steps. I rolled my optics. His age old saying made me chuckle as I closed the door. 'Do it with style, or don't bother doing it at all'.
Checking on the femme I made sure she was in recharge before heading to my room. It was right beside hers, so I would hear if she had another night terror or needed me. Still, I couldn't help but to worry about her.
The image of Jazz crouched beside her berth, crooning to her and stroking her wings entered my processor. He would make a good creator... and why the frag am I thinking about that? Rolling my optics sky wards I lay down on my berth, resting onto my abdomen and holding my wings in the air. Tomorrow I would figure out what to do. Tomorrow I would think over everything. Tonight I would recharge and know that the femme that had captured my sibling's spark was safe. Tomorrow...