From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Lost Light: Recreation -- Practice Rooms|
|Summary||Prowl accuses Rodimus of being tactless. CAN YOU BELIEVE.|
Prowl's mood had been improving, against all odds. Maybe the second failure of the physical portion of his Iacon PD re-entry exam was humbling. Or maybe he was just quashing everything to deal with later. His focus is pretty solid, at least, as he trains with Rodimus in one of the practices rooms altered with hard-light barriers. Rod must flee and evade as Prowl tries to pursue through the scattered, broken maze of broad, orange-tinted walls. There's a lot of sloppy transformation sequences hindered by momentum, and errant, low-powered laser shots singing the floor.
Prowl stands behind the cover of a wall, pistol clasped in both hands, cutting his heavy vents to track the growl of Rodimus' engine.
Rodimus is never hard to track, alas. His idea of stealth is either laughable, or enough to make a strategist cry, depending on what side you’re on. That he’s pulled off an incredible stealthy breakout or two in his day is just another baffling piece of his LEGEND.
So, track: yes. Engine, yes. Growl, yes. It’s not hard for Prowl to place him a turn or two ahead by sound. His vents dump heat in a hiss of fans.
Prowl allows himself a little smirk, and rolls out of his cover to fold back into his wheels, his cannons warming to a /relatively/ safe plasmic output. Twin beams lance across their training field to break down some of the hindering walls, and they fall away with a flicker. He clears the way to pursue a yellow spoiler, working for every inch he gains on Rodimus. Just gonna' casually guide him into a corner first.
<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Prowl=transportation Vs Rodimus=transportation < Prowl: Success (5 5 3 5 6 1 2 :sunglasses: Rodimus: Good Success (4 5 1 1 7 3 7 4 6 1) < Net Result: Rodimus wins - Marginal Victory
As the walls fall away between them, Rodimus startles with a rev of his engine. He pushes forward -- in the wrong direction, it happens -- but he's moving fast enough to make it hard for Prowl to corner him.
Prowl's forced to push for it, where Rodimus carries only a lighter sense of play: "Watch where you're shooting, that could've been my face!"
<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Prowl=firearms Vs Rodimus=reaction+reaction < Prowl: Good Success (1 2 6 7 4 8 4 1 4 5 3 8 4) Rodimus: Good Success (7 6 3 7 2 1) < Net Result: Prowl wins - Marginal Victory
Rodimus proves slippery, but Prowl persists, circling to aim a barrage of light laserfire across the span of the speedster's doors. A bolt of plasma catches Rod at the edge of the wheel well, but his tires remain intact. "Acceptable collateral," he snarks, springing back up onto his feet to steady his aim. "Next time, I'm making you chase me."
As Prowl shoots, Rodimus falls back toward and into the corner. He's just beginning to plan his way out when he stalls: his head tilts, attention pulled to the side in distraction by something on his HUD. Prowl will never get a better shot.
Prowl taps on some of his rusty impulse and goes for the shot, taking out a tire on one of Rodimus' shins in a blast of air and sizzling rubber. He straightens with a little twirl of his pistol, setting his hand on his hip. "Had twenty seconds to spare. Now to apprehend the suspect. Hands behind your head, turn around and get on your knees." Seems just one tire is all Prowl requires.
Rodimus looks awfully distraught for a little blown tire. He looks stricken, then vaguely panicked, then --
Then he looks pissed.
Rodimus lunges at Prowl, tackling him in a full-body tumble to the ground. "You piece of slag." Overreact much?
<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Prowl=unarmed Vs Rodimus=unarmed < Prowl: Failure (3 4 1 3 5 2) Rodimus: Amazing Success (7 7 8 8 5 7 6 3 :sunglasses: < Net Result: Rodimus wins - Crushing Victory
Prowl was prepared for a little scuffle, but not a tackle. He's knocked to his side, cracking an elbow on the ground and using it to try and roll Rodimus as to avoid getting pinned. But he's pretty winded by now, so to speak, so it's an effort to do much else. "Hey, you volunteered to help. And this practice session isn't supposed to involve grappling, so get off before you singe my aft again."
Rodimus gets his arm in underneath Prowl's as he attempts to roll, swatting it to the side and flattening him down again with a hard hand at his shoulder.
Rodimus looms above Prowl as he pins him, fierce with a sudden scowl. "This isn't about your stupid game. Soundwave thinks I'm pissed at him and it's your fragging fault."
Prowl grunts as he's rolled flat on his back and kept there. Oh. Rod's serious. So Prowl returns the scowl, and continues his struggle. "Get /off/. I don't know what you're talking about. Don't try and blame me for your drama. I know it's popular on this ship but I'm pretty certain I didn't screw you over anywhere." He pauses, looking thoughtful. "Almost certain. Not you in particular." His second attempt to rock out of the hold is fruitless, and he's left glowering up at fangs.
<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Prowl=unarmed Vs Rodimus=unarmed < Prowl: Success (3 4 5 8 4 1) Rodimus: Good Success (3 1 3 5 8 2 3 1 7) < Net Result: Rodimus wins - Marginal Victory
As Prowl tries to free himself, Rodimus firms his grip on his shoulder and slams him back down. Those fangs shine bright as he bares his teeth in a snarl that's echoed in a growl of his engine. "You and your implications. Do I look focused to you?"
Prowl hisses through a wince as his doors are twisted. "I-" His optics brighten and clear, and proceed to dart. "Who do you think I am? You think I'd sabotage my only allies here? Glad to see I've earned exactly zero trust with you." His struggle stops, if only briefly, and he slowly lifts a knee, but it's too difficult to wedge between the two frames. "What did Soundwave say? Humor me."
Rodimus shies suddenly, drawing back and releasing Prowl. Then, after a moment, he aggressively forwards Soundwave's memo. AGGRESSIVELY!!!!
Whether I have over-stepped any preconceived boundaries or insulted you in any way, it was never never my intention and I apologize.
Please inform me of what I have done wrong so I may avoid to do so in the future.
I hope this will allow for future visitations once more.
Soundwave Lost Light Command
Prowl pushes himself up and flicks his doors a few times. He stares at the message. Then Rodimus. "You changed your behavior around him, I presume. How is that my fault, exactly?"
"What do you mean, how is that my fault, how is it NOT." Rodimus pushes himself back up to his feet as Prowl rises. He glares at him. "Every second asking myself: 'Am I leading him on? I'm not leading him on, but am I?' and then he takes off his mask and -- actually, never mind, but this is basically your fault."
"This isn't tying up your loose ends. This is... fraying your loose ends." Prowl meets the glare with his own frosty, squinty stare. "Let me handle this. You have no tact. You have to be clear about your disinterest. I'll inform Soundwave." And he stares off into the distance as he begins a draft in reply to that message.
"Stop--!" Rodimus pushes forward to shove Prowl back, hand braced at his shoulder as he pushes him against the wall. "Just stop -- helping. Or whatever the frag you think you are doing, because you aren't. Just -- shut up. For once in your life. Shut up, and keep out of it. Okay? I value the hell out of that friendship and you're messing it up."
Prowl pauses in his draft, when Rodimus presses all the wrong (or right?) buttons. His glares and glowers are commonplace and don't generally hold much weight to those that endure them often, but here, he's made to feel a little wounded. A little insulted. And now, keenly bitter. It's clear in his smoothed expression and widened optics. He reaches to smack the hand away with his wrist. "Don't touch me again. Are we going to have a problem here? Figure your slag out. You doubting yourself has nothing to do with me, unless you're compelled to act, ineffectively, on anything I say in passing."
Rodimus draws his hands back and holds them up, palms out. Look at him. Look at him not touching Prowl. What a good Rodimus he is. He takes a step back, then gives Prowl a hot look. "Why don't you try figuring out your own mess, instead of projecting all over everyone around you, and making problems for them?"
Prowl fights an intense urge to sling a fist across Rodimus' jaw. He might storm off, normally, but this is "his" terrain for now, and there's rank to speak of, somewhere. So, time to drive Rodimus off the territory. "I didn't know you had placed such importance on my idle comments on relationships. I'll keep out of it. Drag Soundwave through the razorwire. Whatever gets you off, I guess. We're through here."
One might assume the urge is mutual from the way Rodimus clenches and then relaxes his fist. For a moment, it seems like he might rise to the implied challenge of Prowl's dismissal: his shoulders angle forward, his spoiler pitches high. He rises, just on the edge of a comment, then--
It's not his finest retort, but as Rodimus looks away, he trades the irritation for concern, and Prowl for an internal focus, as he and his busted tire make their way out.