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Difference between revisions of "2018-07-29 In Exchange"

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Latest revision as of 02:35, 30 July 2018

In Exchange
Date 2018/07/29
Location Lost Light - Command: Guest Office
Participants Rodimus, Prowl
Summary Rodimus learns of Prowl's compounding dilemma and hatches a simple plan.

SURPRISE: It's Rodimus time.

Rodimus doesn't actually kick down the door and charge in, but it can certainly feel like that when the doors part to allow Rodimus through in full energy. "Hey, Prowl, how's my favorite dubiously ethical -- or is it moral? what's the difference again? Anyway, I need your strategy brain, come on, let's go. I want to save a Titan."

Prowl fumbles with a stylus that ends up flipping out of his grasp and doing a cool triple gainer off the desk. He reacts to this surge of energy with a frosty stare and a door flick. "Metroplex? We've shelved that project. Megatron isn't going to /destroy/ him. Not for a while anyway. Pretty sure," he says, ethically. "We have more pressing matters."

"Okay, two Titans," Rodimus corrects himself, "but that doesn't really sound as cool. Metroplex and Tempo. You might've shelved it, but I haven't. What do you think is more pressing than that?"

"Well..." Prowl's tone here isn't terribly confident. "The Galactic Council and the Consortia's charges... The, er, Quintesson Threat. Our growing /fleet/. I guess we're just welcoming everyone now, right? We need to come up with limits. Criteria. Having the Wreckers around /might/ bring some unwanted attention." He folds his hands atop the desk. "I don't think it's a good idea to divert resources back to Cybertron, Captain. Not as it is."

"The Wreckers? You object to Springer and not the unknown Decepticons stumbling out of the corners of the galaxy to join under our refugee banner? What kind of secrets are you afraid he's going to spill, Prowl?" Rodimus asks, jarred from his line of thought by Prowl's approach.

Prowl fails to respond in the proper span of time that generally wouldn't arouse suspicion. And he makes no attempt to compensate with... anything. He just sits there, lips slightly parted, each passing second urging his doors down an inch.

Rodimus stares at Prowl, waiting for an answer, and when it is clear that it isn't coming, he steps forward. A command-level bit of code locks the door behind him, and he closes on Prowl with his voice a quiet hush. "Prowl, what's wrong?"

Prowl tilts his stare away, to the corner of his desk, in aversion to the hushed voice. His bristly squint at nothing softens after a lengthy pause, and the glow of his optics track back to his captain. Thoughtful, considering. Rodimus must've earned some solid trust, at some point. "I promised to give Springer to an old acquaintance that is presently working under Megatron. That merry band of mad scientists he has. Shockwave's group." Beat. "I wasn't /actually/ going to give Springer to him. It was in exchange for information."

There's just the slightest pained twitch to Rodimus's expression when Prowl says that he planned on trading an Autobot away to a Decepticon mad scientist. Just -- a tiny twitch. His vents open with the sigh cycling through his systems, and he leans forward to brace his hands on Prowl's desk. "And you'd been expecting Springer to be holed up somewhere easy to overlook. Safe. Am I following you?"

Prowl goes a little wide-eyed at that sigh. He suddenly feels the need to stand. "Yes. I was going to go... secure him. Keep him off the radar a bit. But this acquaintance now knows he's alive, and knows that /I/ know where he is, so... I have a bit of a problem here. Springer is... precious, to this mech. I'd predicted a smoother transaction."

"How many of Megatron's scientists do you think we can catch using the same trick?" Rodimus asks. Rhetorical question. "Soundwave wanted to lure Shockwave out using bait, and I gotta say: this is pretty much the same situation. Let's use Springer to lure him out, get the information you wanted, then bundle this guy up and out of the way. Uh -- it's not. It's not Shockwave, is it?"

"Mesothulas. Changed to Tarantulas. Because he's a giant organic spider now. A "chimeron". He's unhinged." Prowl reaches to flick his datapad to his inbox, to display /99/ messages. "How would we just /bundle him up/? Rodimus, he..." His helm rolls back as he rubs over his chevron. "He /knows/ things. About me. And all of this slag /matters/ now. Do you understand?"

"Well, you can't shove Springer in a box, so I'd like to know what your plan was to deal with him," Rodimus says, his tone frank. He studies Prowl's inbox with obvious fascination. He leans over like he's going to poke 'play' on the first.

The first message Rodimus selects picks off where it had been paused. "-or I will destroy you. In every way you destroyed me. You hear me? I WILL DESTROY--" Tarantulas' voice is cut off by the time limit beep. Prowl waves his hand. "I didn't destroy him. He's being dramatic. My plan? My plan..." He looks over his messy desk, and his heavily scrawled link board. "I was working on that. It... took priority over your metrotitans. If you can help me get rid of this spider, I'll give you a strategy for Metroplex. And Tempo."

"Lure, trap, cell. Wham, bam, in the can," Rodimus says, miming it with a one-two pow. "You're overcomplicating it, come on. What's he want with Springer, anyway?"

Prowl mumbles an unintelligible answer.

Rodimus leans forward. "Sprimmphrmrrgmbrgbr?"

Prowl reacts as if Rodimus just pinched one of his headlights. He glares for a long moment, and then, "Boring science scrap. And Springer doesn't need to know, alright? Deal? Perhaps Tarantulas is just drawn to his striking physique. His broad... chassis."

"I know, right?" Rodimus says, giving Prowl a knowing sort of grin. Springer. "Probably wouldn't be the first, or the last. We'll just tell Springer we need his help because blah, blah, Decepticon mad scientist, blah, blah, trap. Done."

Prowl hates everything about that grin. He rounds the desk and tries to guide Rodimus out of his office with some shoulder tugging. "I'll get Springer on board then. Decide on a good location, and I'll notify Tarantulas."

"What? Why're you throwing me out?!" Rodimus is tugged, but oblivious to any offense given, confused about it all. "Look, you can't keep Springer to yourself. He's like an Autobot icon, okay. Anyway -- titans? Save the titans?"

"I'm not keeping Spr- I don't even like him! Oh I get it, because he's green, right? Hilarious. Yeah, yeah, I'll /save the titans/." Prowl continues to nudge Rodimus towards the door, hand at his back. "I'll send you some plans for approval. In a day. Or two. Trust me."

"You're the one talking about his striking physique and broad chassis! Which -- is totally true, by the way." Frantically releasing the command locks before Prowl can shove him into the door, Rodimus is instead shoved through. "Also, Matrix-blue eyes," he says on the other side of the door, now open between them. He might be antagonizing Prowl. A little. "Chin straight off a statue."

Prowl can't slam the door shut because the door doesn't have speeds, or if it does, Prowl hadn't figured them out yet. So it slooowly shuts as he keeps a hand on Rodimus' shoulder to hold him outside, risking pinching his fingers. "/Good evening Rodimus/." *CLICK*

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