What's in a Frame? (Part 4)
Apr. 11th, 2010 01:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceTitle: What's in a Frame? (Part 4)
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Smokescreen. Prowl. Ensemble.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
When the doors to the rec room swung open, most of its occupants glanced up to see who’d come in before turning back to their energon, conversations or what have you. Then the figure standing between Jazz and Smokescreen registered and every optic was instantly focused on the three once more.
For a moment no one said anything. The third bot was practically svelte compared to the average Cybertronian. A chevroned helm came up to somewhere around Smokescreen’s shoulder and the sensor panels on the newcomer’s back were drawn high and tense under their curious gazes. A black and white paint job completed the look.
“Jazz, Smokescreen.” Blaster was the first to break the silence, nodding to his friends and gesturing to the unusual looking bot. “Something you forgot to tell us maybe?”
The two mechs stalled, then Smokescreen buried his face in a palm and Jazz flailed briefly.
“What? No. No. No no no no no.” The Porsche broke off his slightly frantic denial to look at the blue mech sheepishly. “Uh, no offence Smokey, but… no.”
“None taken, and I believe the feeling is mutual.” The diversionary mech muttered and the unfamiliar bot between them vented air slowly, crossing black and white arms to glare sternly at the stunned rec room in a very familiar manner.
“Prowl?!”
“Where?”
“Is that…?”
“Prowl! You’re okay! And… smaller, somehow.”
“You’re not a toaster!”
“I knew Ratchet wouldn’t really do it.”
They found themselves surrounded and herded to a couch to face the inquisition that no doubt awaited them. When no one dared ask the first question, Prowl sighed.
“I suppose an explanation is in order. I disguised myself as a carformer near the start of the war, and most of you know me in that aspect. That last battle has put paid to the modifications that allowed me to do so. This is my true format.”
Slingshot pushed his way to the front. “So… Are you still a mech? Ow!”
Silverbolt immediately smacked his brother upside the helm and hauled him back into the crowd. Prowl cycled air slowly, glancing upwards as if asking for patience while everyone else very carefully avoided looking at the tactician.
“I am still a mech. So sorry to disappoint.”
Like a dam that had been breached, the questions poured forth, Prowl answering or shooting down the bots with his trademark cold stare, further convincing them that he really was their SIC.
“Why don’t you have any wheels? You had an Earth alt before.”
“My modifications were what gave me the Datsun alt mode. My base form did not do the same. I will be reformatting once Ratchet clears me to.”
“If you aren’t a car, what are you exactly?”
“A Praxian model cycleformer.”
It was Groove’s turn to shove himself forward. “So you’ll become a motorcycle when you scan an Earth mode?”
“That is likely, yes.” Prowl smiled when the Protectobot bounced in glee, relaxing for the first time since Jazz and Smokescreen had seen him after his reformat.
“Why did you change your root form?”
The mech tensed again, sensor panels angling back sharply. “I would rather not talk about it.”
“Was it because of Sentinel? I heard a lot of slag about him, and you were his Second, weren’t you?”
“You mean that was true? Frag, I don’t care if he was a Prime, I’d have kicked his aft!”
Prowl looked taken aback by the outrage on his behalf, and Smokescreen nudged him gently. “Told you so.”
The other bots stared, but it didn't take them long to put the pieces together. “You mean Prowl thought we’d believe those rumours were his fault?”
“Prowl, you sure Ratchet cleared you to leave the medbay?”
“You expect us to think that Mr Professional himself here traded on his chassis to climb the ranks?”
Prowl stepped in to calm the agitated bots down again. “Sentinel was innocent of the behaviour mentioned in those rumours. But they were a large part of the reason for my reformat. No leader, even a Prime, can function as such if his reputation is constantly under attack.”
“But that wasn’t fair to you.” Came the quiet protest.
The SIC’s response was even and resolute. “There are a great many things that are unfair. The Decepticons revolting. Megatron taking over most of Cybertron. Being stranded on Earth. Sideswipe deciding my life isn’t hectic enough without his particular brand of mayhem to add to my workload.”
“Hey!” The red frontliner protested as the rest of the Autobots laughed and ribbed him. As the tension that had been present earlier dissipated, Prowl met Jazz’s grin with a faint smile of his own before rising to leave. He made it halfway to the door before it opened to let Grimlock in. The T-Rex stared down at the SIC, looking incredulous.
“Why you Prowl tiny?”
“Medical reasons.” Smokescreen called out, doors fluttering nervously as the Dinobot stomped closer to the wary black and white mech, suddenly looking very small in front of the T-Rex.
“Me Grimlock pick him Prowl up with one hand!”
“That’s not a good idea, Grimlock!” The diversionary mech rose out of his seat, as did most of the other Autobots. But the Dinobot leader had already made a grab for Prowl, one that the cycleformer avoided with ease before giving the larger mech a severe look.
“Grimlock. Stand down.”
The T-Rex blinked, momentarily confused by his empty grasp, then roared in annoyance and lunged for the tactician, drawing horrified cries from their audience as he leapt.
“Grimlock, quit it!” Cliffjumper and Brawn reached him first and were easily brushed aside, tumbling into Sideswipe, who was right behind them. They got up and would have started forward once more if Prowl hadn’t stopped them with a raised hand.
Ducking Grimlock again, faster than any of the crew (with the exception of one individual) had ever seen him move before, the chevroned mech leapt onto the larger one. Grabbing hold of Grimlock’s jaw, Prowl jabbed his fingers into the Dinobot’s neck cables, squeezing something and freezing him in place. Looking into the paralysed mech’s optics, the tactician then stated with perfect icy calm.
“My appearance is all that has changed. I am still a tactician, an officer and the Second in Command. Kindly remember that.”
He let go and jumped away from Grimlock, watching as the mech crunched into the ground, optics dark. Prowl glared at the prone form, then at his hand.
“Prowl? Is he…?”
“Merely unconscious. Not all of my alterations were external; I also needed hydraulic upgrades to compensate for the added weight of the modifications. Since they were not harming me and would take far too much time to remove, I kept them. However, I am not accustomed to their strength when unimpeded and accidentally knocked Grimlock out instead of just immobilising him.”
The tactician vented air slowly, then turned to leave, muttering to himself. “I suppose that means I must repeat this whole process the next time we cross paths. Wonderful.”
The Autobots watched him go, then looked at the offline T-Rex and at each other. After a moment, Sideswipe drawled.
“So. Who wants to bet Starscream will be the first ‘Con to end up like Grimlock?”
“Hah, I’m going for Astrotrain.”
“Ramjet.”
"Wildrider!"
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Smokescreen. Prowl. Ensemble.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
When the doors to the rec room swung open, most of its occupants glanced up to see who’d come in before turning back to their energon, conversations or what have you. Then the figure standing between Jazz and Smokescreen registered and every optic was instantly focused on the three once more.
For a moment no one said anything. The third bot was practically svelte compared to the average Cybertronian. A chevroned helm came up to somewhere around Smokescreen’s shoulder and the sensor panels on the newcomer’s back were drawn high and tense under their curious gazes. A black and white paint job completed the look.
“Jazz, Smokescreen.” Blaster was the first to break the silence, nodding to his friends and gesturing to the unusual looking bot. “Something you forgot to tell us maybe?”
The two mechs stalled, then Smokescreen buried his face in a palm and Jazz flailed briefly.
“What? No. No. No no no no no.” The Porsche broke off his slightly frantic denial to look at the blue mech sheepishly. “Uh, no offence Smokey, but… no.”
“None taken, and I believe the feeling is mutual.” The diversionary mech muttered and the unfamiliar bot between them vented air slowly, crossing black and white arms to glare sternly at the stunned rec room in a very familiar manner.
“Prowl?!”
“Where?”
“Is that…?”
“Prowl! You’re okay! And… smaller, somehow.”
“You’re not a toaster!”
“I knew Ratchet wouldn’t really do it.”
They found themselves surrounded and herded to a couch to face the inquisition that no doubt awaited them. When no one dared ask the first question, Prowl sighed.
“I suppose an explanation is in order. I disguised myself as a carformer near the start of the war, and most of you know me in that aspect. That last battle has put paid to the modifications that allowed me to do so. This is my true format.”
Slingshot pushed his way to the front. “So… Are you still a mech? Ow!”
Silverbolt immediately smacked his brother upside the helm and hauled him back into the crowd. Prowl cycled air slowly, glancing upwards as if asking for patience while everyone else very carefully avoided looking at the tactician.
“I am still a mech. So sorry to disappoint.”
Like a dam that had been breached, the questions poured forth, Prowl answering or shooting down the bots with his trademark cold stare, further convincing them that he really was their SIC.
“Why don’t you have any wheels? You had an Earth alt before.”
“My modifications were what gave me the Datsun alt mode. My base form did not do the same. I will be reformatting once Ratchet clears me to.”
“If you aren’t a car, what are you exactly?”
“A Praxian model cycleformer.”
It was Groove’s turn to shove himself forward. “So you’ll become a motorcycle when you scan an Earth mode?”
“That is likely, yes.” Prowl smiled when the Protectobot bounced in glee, relaxing for the first time since Jazz and Smokescreen had seen him after his reformat.
“Why did you change your root form?”
The mech tensed again, sensor panels angling back sharply. “I would rather not talk about it.”
“Was it because of Sentinel? I heard a lot of slag about him, and you were his Second, weren’t you?”
“You mean that was true? Frag, I don’t care if he was a Prime, I’d have kicked his aft!”
Prowl looked taken aback by the outrage on his behalf, and Smokescreen nudged him gently. “Told you so.”
The other bots stared, but it didn't take them long to put the pieces together. “You mean Prowl thought we’d believe those rumours were his fault?”
“Prowl, you sure Ratchet cleared you to leave the medbay?”
“You expect us to think that Mr Professional himself here traded on his chassis to climb the ranks?”
Prowl stepped in to calm the agitated bots down again. “Sentinel was innocent of the behaviour mentioned in those rumours. But they were a large part of the reason for my reformat. No leader, even a Prime, can function as such if his reputation is constantly under attack.”
“But that wasn’t fair to you.” Came the quiet protest.
The SIC’s response was even and resolute. “There are a great many things that are unfair. The Decepticons revolting. Megatron taking over most of Cybertron. Being stranded on Earth. Sideswipe deciding my life isn’t hectic enough without his particular brand of mayhem to add to my workload.”
“Hey!” The red frontliner protested as the rest of the Autobots laughed and ribbed him. As the tension that had been present earlier dissipated, Prowl met Jazz’s grin with a faint smile of his own before rising to leave. He made it halfway to the door before it opened to let Grimlock in. The T-Rex stared down at the SIC, looking incredulous.
“Why you Prowl tiny?”
“Medical reasons.” Smokescreen called out, doors fluttering nervously as the Dinobot stomped closer to the wary black and white mech, suddenly looking very small in front of the T-Rex.
“Me Grimlock pick him Prowl up with one hand!”
“That’s not a good idea, Grimlock!” The diversionary mech rose out of his seat, as did most of the other Autobots. But the Dinobot leader had already made a grab for Prowl, one that the cycleformer avoided with ease before giving the larger mech a severe look.
“Grimlock. Stand down.”
The T-Rex blinked, momentarily confused by his empty grasp, then roared in annoyance and lunged for the tactician, drawing horrified cries from their audience as he leapt.
“Grimlock, quit it!” Cliffjumper and Brawn reached him first and were easily brushed aside, tumbling into Sideswipe, who was right behind them. They got up and would have started forward once more if Prowl hadn’t stopped them with a raised hand.
Ducking Grimlock again, faster than any of the crew (with the exception of one individual) had ever seen him move before, the chevroned mech leapt onto the larger one. Grabbing hold of Grimlock’s jaw, Prowl jabbed his fingers into the Dinobot’s neck cables, squeezing something and freezing him in place. Looking into the paralysed mech’s optics, the tactician then stated with perfect icy calm.
“My appearance is all that has changed. I am still a tactician, an officer and the Second in Command. Kindly remember that.”
He let go and jumped away from Grimlock, watching as the mech crunched into the ground, optics dark. Prowl glared at the prone form, then at his hand.
“Prowl? Is he…?”
“Merely unconscious. Not all of my alterations were external; I also needed hydraulic upgrades to compensate for the added weight of the modifications. Since they were not harming me and would take far too much time to remove, I kept them. However, I am not accustomed to their strength when unimpeded and accidentally knocked Grimlock out instead of just immobilising him.”
The tactician vented air slowly, then turned to leave, muttering to himself. “I suppose that means I must repeat this whole process the next time we cross paths. Wonderful.”
The Autobots watched him go, then looked at the offline T-Rex and at each other. After a moment, Sideswipe drawled.
“So. Who wants to bet Starscream will be the first ‘Con to end up like Grimlock?”
“Hah, I’m going for Astrotrain.”
“Ramjet.”
"Wildrider!"
