2019-01-02 From What Has Been to What's to Come
From Transformers: Lost and Found
Revision as of 23:23, 5 January 2019 by Tez
|From What Has Been to What's to Come|
|Participants||Prowl, Minimus Ambus|
|Summary||The committee continues its deliberations with Prowl. Minimus is there the whole time.|
Security has been ramped up drastically since the attempt on Soundwave's life. Everyone has to dull the pointy bits of their armor, and the scanners are far more probing. A lot of grumpy mechs are pulled to off the side as they arrive for Prowl's hearing.
Prowl is polished with his edges dulled. He doesn't seem nervous, but anyone who knows him well can pick up the tension in his faintly twitching left door. He begins with a flat tone that only finds definition when he touches on the beginnings of his coercion within the faction. There's a lot to talk about there, and hours pass before he can speak of Mesothulas. Springer is carefully left out of this mess. He doesn't deserve scientists poking at his spark.
Recess couldn't come soon enough, and as soon as Prowl finds Minimus, he falls against his chest. There's really no escaping the cameras, but Prowl is too weary to care.
Minimus waits. As he said he would, he watches; as he said he would, he listens; as he said he would, he is there for Prowl when he emerges. The drone camera zips past them as Prowl falls against him, and he reaches up, drawing his arms around his exhausted comrade with firm and sturdy warmth. In the quiet of the hallway, he lifts his scarlet gaze to the drone camera and addresses it:
“I will destroy your camera if you do not withdraw.”
A slightly tinny voice is projected from within: “But Enforcer Ambus, the people are interested to know if this is an endorsement of--”
“I fully endorse the principles of the restorative justice commission. I fully endorse each and all of the candidates exercising their rights.” Minimus’s voice booms and thrums with depth and certainty, weighted with a mild threat as his temper ticks over not far beneath the surface. “I certainly fully endorse Prowl for stepping forward. My personal life is not an endorsement, however.”
“Don’t you think that there is some measure of responsibility owed to--”
“I will destroy your camera in 5, 4, 3--” Minimus counts down, his fingers curling behind Prowl’s neck as though to warn him by heat and pressure.
The drone camera zips off. This is probably going to impact Minimus later.
Prowl stays quiet, chin on Minimus' shoulder, out of sight. It's nice to just sit there and listen to a rumbling threat that he doesn't have to put any effort into. When the camera zips off, Prowl mumbles his gratitude, and remains exactly where he is, arms drawn around Minimus' middle.
"Do you think they'll use the same method used in relinquishment clinics to kill my spark? Technology has advanced a lot. Maybe there's a promising new procedure that adds pain into the mix," Prowl repays with a ray of sunshine.
“That’s not how any of this works, Prowl,” Minimus rumbles with an exasperation in his voice that is not as supportive as the warmth and reassurance that he might supply were he anyone other than Minimus Ambus. But as much as he verbally hedgehogs at him, his frame is solid and warm in the offer of his embrace.
Prowl can't help but smile at Minimus' tired tone. He eventually draws back. "I'm... I'm glad you're here," he says with clear rawness in his voice. "I wish I could give you more than just my drama, but. Hey, at least I didn't run off." He tries to pull Minimus off to the side, towards a bench, threading his fingers. "You have any entertaining news? Did anyone void their tanks yet? Think I might be doing better than Soundwave."
“What nonsense,” Minimus murmurs. He goes with him willingly enough, glowering at another camera drone as it buzzes by but wisely does not stop. He is quiet for a moment and then says, “No security breaches that I have heard of, not since what happened with Soundwave.” He offers no entertaining news, no bright witticisms. He sits there on the bench, clasping Prowl’s hand and looking generally like his dour and ordinary self.
Prowl waits. And waits. He then huffs, frowning at Minimus. "That's it? You didn't read a funny comic in the LLI? Hear any far fetched rumors?" His grip tightens. "Just give me something, Minimus. Anything."
“Really, Prowl, you know I have no truck with that gossip magazine,” Minimus sniffs primly. He hesitates for a moment, and then says in an awkward, shuffle-footed way, “I re-ordered the cashiering forms for Autobots mustering out of the service and into civilian life. They’re much less dense now. There’s really no need to delineate all of that early century service information. I’m sure Hound will approve the changes. The new form is much shorter.”
That'll HAVE TO DO. Prowl tucks against Minimus' shoulder, back to grinning, endeared by the small step towards efficiency. "I'm sure he will. That must've been satisfying. Did you get pulled for any interviews yet? Or did you threaten to destroy equipment if anyone approached you? Do more of that, by the way. That was nice."
“No promises.” Minimus’s voice is a low growl, but not one without hinted humor in it. “It may not be a good habit to get into, if my future career proceeds in a …” He hesitates, sits there for a moment as he considers his word choice, and then groans audibly before finishing, “… direction.”
Prowl elects to indulge himself, for as long as Minimus will allow. It has been a strange day, alright. He slowly leans and turns to stretch right across Minimus' lap in a soft slide of armor. He'll brace for being shoved off, just in case, but it'll be worth the pleasant draping. "Direction? Want to elaborate?"
Minimus looks a little like he is considering it for a moment, glancing at the floor beneath them as they perch on the bench, glancing up the hallway towards this door, then down the hallway towards another. Whatever stays his hand, though, he instead sits, permissive in the stroke of his hand over Prowl’s helm. “I think it might have to be politics,” he says, “and I am terrified. But I don’t see another path.”
Prowl performs a mental fist pump at the minor victory, and crosses his legs on the bench, tilting his helm back against the touch. "You could be one of my enforcers, if I get out of this," he says, a new note of hunger in his voice over the idea. "My unstoppable captain. Or politics, sure. Someone has to counteract whatever Starscream does. Did. I'm sure you'd be good at it."
“You aren’t getting ‘’out’' of this, Prowl,” Minimus says in a voice that is once again sharp with that blade of exasperation. He swats at his chest with a light THWACK. “You are paying your debt to society. Willingly.” Then he says in a weightier voice, “It’s just that there’s so much work to be done building this world, and I have ideas for what it could be, but I have no way to make them take effect without …. standing up to do so. I have no other option. I will be terrible at it, but perhaps I will be terrible fiercely enough that it will be good enough.”
Prowl curls against the gentle thwack and pretends to quiver in pain. He slumps and glares at the ceiling. "I'm clearly talking about avoiding death! I'll pay my debt. I'll pay it forever and ever. Hnnn."
"Save us from ourselves, Minimus," Prowl mutters, clearly less inclined to pay compliments now. "Nobly stand up and lead us, like Orion. Orion, who appears to be getting out of this."
“By deserting,” Minimus answers in a clipped way.
"By deserting," Prowl repeats, slower. He looks up. He's got a nice view here. Nice angle of that facial insignia. "They still call you Enforcer." He nudges Minimus' middle with his elbow. "You sure you don't want to go back to a life of fighting crime? With me?" He sits up, if only to deliver his coaxing smile.
Minimus looks into Prowl’s face, and then reaches up to frame it in the curve of his palm. It’s a gentle touch, gentler than most of the ones in which he indulges. A soft brush of his thumb over the angled line of his cheek. “It appeals,” he says, “but it lacks scope.” His voice is very soft when he says, “If I don’t step forward to help build the new Cybertron, it will be left to others to do.”
Prowl's optics dim as he savors the slide of Minimus' thumb. His smile fades, and his lips tug into a partial frown. "Grander things. I'll go where you go. I don't want scope to leave me alone again." Peering back down the hall, he vents a sigh and bumps Minimus' shoulder. "Come with me back to my room? I think it's your evil red eyes that frighten off most of the reporters."
“Really, Prowl,” Minimus says with a tart shade of warmth in his voice, as though the very idea is silly. “If you are in law enforcement here on Cybertron and I am in government here on Cybertron, we are hardly exiled from each other.” He pats Prowl’s face once and then drops his hand. Then he shifts, easing back to his feet again. “What’s wrong with red?”
Prowl grins, doors hiked up. "It's associated with violence. Like the Deceptic'- ... 'cons." The Autobot insignia is red. "I'm just kidding." He won't move until he's got Minimus' hand clasped firmly. "Your optics are striking."
Minimus flicks a fingertip against the badge he wears on his chest. “Autobot red,” he corrects. “Decepticon purple. It’s remarkable how quickly you appear to forget the basics.” He’d apparently rather give Prowl shit than immediately hold hands.
"Okay, for a while, there was a trend among the delinquents where they all got their optics tinted red to look edgy. You don't remember that?" Prowl just reaches for Minimus' wrist.
“Definitely not,” Minimus says primly. He glances a little sardonically at Prowl’s hand as he reaches to tug at him, and then says archly, “Are we getting out of here, then? Or would you rather insult my evil eyes some more?”
Prowl keeps his grip on Minimus' wrist, though he's well aware he'd be unable to make his POP boyfriend move a single centimeter. "Sorry for insulting your eyes," he relents with a flat tone. "I think they're attractive." He draws close, intimately close, and stares with his icy blue.
Minimus shares the barest fraction of a smile with him, glinting in the bright scarlet glare as his lips curve. “Well, if evil weren’t alluring, where would it be?” Then he turns and starts towards the door to without. Maybe he’ll just haul Prowl along with him, like an awkward impound tow.
Prowl is hauled easily, smitten by the hint of Minimus' smile. They're just the best. Sooner or later they might not be so effective on Prowl, but it won't be any time soon.