Secret Repairs
There’s a reason why he should have taken the seeker upgrade when he had had the chance. Sadly, Prowl never got that upgrade and was forced to reach the cliff-side cave the hard way. Namely, climb down the slippery, unstable cliff face and pray to Primus he wouldn’t lose his grip and plummet into the dark ocean below.
Prowl’s strategy protocols told the Datsun where all the good hand and foot holds were. It would not pay for him to not take advantage of his battle processors excellent strategic thinking to use, especially since the person inside the cave needed his immediate attention. The dull purple splashes of energon revealed the mech’s condition. No one could leave that much energon and expect to survive for long. And despite the obvious dangers of reaching such a place, the cave was a safe haven for those who managed to reach it.
Prowl swung into the cave and landed on all fours, scanning the darkness of the cave with intense, ice blue optics. He straightened, shaking out some kinks in his doorwings, and proceeded to walk deeper into the cave. As he walked, he splashed through several large puddles of dark purple energon, leaving bloody foot prints in his wake. The fact those puddles were even there was more than enough motivation to make Prowl run the rest of the way, drops of energon splashing up his legs and lower thighs.
Prowl rounded a corner, stopped dead, and couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him. Though his logic circuits told him to keep moving, the few emotions he still retained were strong enough to override them and lock him in place.
Dark purple energon was everywhere, on the walls, on the ceiling; the floor was practically swimming in it and it lapped against Prowl’s feet.
Fear pulsing through his own energon lines, Prowl rushed into the bloody interior, splashing more of the lifeblood on his person, and crashed next to a winged figure lying on the ground. Prowl reached down and turned the nigh dead figure over, ice blue optics scanning and rescanning for vital signs. Severe energon loss (like it was not obvious), multiple deep lacerations to the mech’s superstructure and internal wiring, several crushed framework pieces, multiple cranial injuries, and two dislocated wing joints.
Prowl almost cried out in despair for the unconscious mech, but he knew the mech in his arms needed his medical attention more than he needed Prowl’s sympathy or emotional care. Setting the mech down on his front, careful not to damage the dislocated wing joints on his back, he took out the basic medical kit that all the officers kept on their persons for just such an emergency. Prowl learned long ago that he would need more than just a basic medical kit to keep his former mate alive.
Prowl set about the horrible task of stemming the energon flowing out of the wounded mech. More of the lifeblood splashed his front and arms and he worked quickly and precisely, leaving no room for error or lost time. The flashes and sparks from the welding torch played around the cave and across the two mechs’ frames. To the unknowing observer, it would have looked like a macabre, robotic version of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein.
Prowl put the welding torch down and sighed almost in relief. The major lacerations hadn’t done too much damage to the delicate understructure (which was a simple job as only some minor wiring had been completely severed and motor relays just needed to be reattached) and a lick of paint would cover the wounds as though they weren’t there. As for the damage to the mech’s frame… Prowl didn’t have the resources nor the time to set each piece of the frame in order. They would require several days and a few of Ratchet’s tools to fix. Thankfully, the frame would hold out, but the work was far from done.
The cranial damage demanded Prowl’s attention, despite the lack of energon flowing from the open wounds. Prowl’s energon covered hands traced over each dent and crack, processor assessing and diagnosing possible harm and possible cure for each. Prowl smiled sadly when most the readings came back under the “Immediate Threat” line. His mate always did have a hard head, which was why he was in this condition in the first place.
Still, despite the reprimand he wanted to give to the mech, Prowl simply picked up a smaller welder and some black paint he kept on his person just in case and got to work on the mech’s helm. Small sparks played off the downed mech’s faceplates, softening his hard features and giving it a stunning contrast. Prowl stopped welding shut his fourth crack and just gazed as his former mate’s face. The frown normally displayed on his face was gone replaced with a relaxed look of someone deep in recharge.
Prowl leaned down to study the mech’s face up close, noting the dark dermaplating and the dark russet optics were covered in tiny scratches and cuts. He frowned. Too small to weld, but big enough to notice. Still, Prowl ignored the mech’s deplorable condition, lightly touching olfactory structures and shuttered his optics as memories flashed across his mind.
The two of them walking across Vos’s upper towers, saying hello to the other mechs and femmes flying overhead.
Sadness at the days spent away from each other during training, and supreme joy at their reunion.
Talking with friends at the local plaza, secretly nudging each other playfully.
One night watching the stars sail across the endless expanse of black sky.
The day it all went to hell.
Prowl shot up as the last memory flashed across his mind. What happened that day happened and he couldn’t change it. Prowl shook his head and tried to clear the memory from his mind. Dwelling on the past won’t serve the present. To further distract himself, he finished mending the downed mech’s helm and touched it up with several licks of the black paint.
Prowl stepped sat back and admired his handiwork. While still in a bad state, the mech would survive. Prowl’s battle processor was never wrong about such things, but the mech definitely needed to refuel. Prowl eased his way through the dark purple energon covering the floor to the mech’s head and gently lifted the mech’s head into his lap. He placed one of the cube’s corners on his lips and eased the fuel into the mech’s mouth. A little at a time, then rubbing the mech’s neck to slide the energon down into his tank.
This had to be one of the few times Prowl could get this close to his former mate without getting shot at and he cherished every single moment. Granted, he wished the mech would actually be awake when he arrived, but then he’d never get close.
Three empty cubes later, Prowl turned the mech over and inspected the wing structures. While he may not have gotten the upgrade needed to take to the skies, he did know more than most about the dynamics and structures of wings. A simple joint dislocation was easy to fix (thank Primus it was only dislocated) and Prowl popped both joints back into place. How the mech had managed to fly to the cave in the first place was beyond him.
Still, his mate would survive.
Prowl packed away his medical kit and looked back at his mate’s faceplates. His spark ached at the thought of leaving him behind again, but it had to be done. He’d left the mech lying here in his own energon before and he still managed to shoot him on the battlefield. But… his spark gave a painful throb, just once he wanted to do what he had even been afraid to do before they were separated.
Before his logic circuits could kick in and stop him, Prowl quickly kissed the mech’s lips, running his glossa over his partner’s lip components.
Just a short harsh kiss and Prowl tore away from the seeker and ran from the cave, his fading footsteps echoing around the dark cave.
They had been separated once and would never reunite.
---
Starscream’s optics came back online and he groaned in pain.
Or rather, the lack thereof.
He shot up from the floor and looked around the cave. His energon covered the walls and himself, but there was no sign of anyone else. Every time he came to this particular cave injured and passed out from pain, he always woke up near fully repaired.
Starscream was sick of it. True, he was grateful that someone would bother to help him, but it wounded his pride to know that someone had seen him in such a vulnerable position. He looked around the cave again and shakily got to his feet, his frame audibly rattling.
For the first time, Starscream noticed footprints in the energon, and odd splash patterns along the walls.
They were fresh.
So whoever had helped him must still be nearby!
“Show yourself!!” Starscream shouted. “I know you’re here!! Don’t try to hide from me!!”
He heard the distinct sound of someone stumbling echo down the cave. So Starscream surprised his quarry, did he? Ignoring the slight twinges of pain, he ran toward the cave’s entrance. Running footsteps that were not his own echoed down the cave, then suddenly stopped.
He had nearly reached the mouth of the cave when a loud splash alerted him to the location of his quarry. He stopped at the edge of the cave and looked down into the white and blue ocean below.
There was no sign of anyone there or any vapor trails to follow.
“Don’t think you can run from me forever!!” He shouted across the ocean. “I will find out who you are!! You’ll slip up one of these days and then you’ll rue the day you every touched my person!!” Only the call of some seagulls overhead answered his challenge. He glowered and turned back into the cave.
He’d find the slagger who kept on repairing him and find out why they kept on doing so. A slight tingling in his lip components bothered him for a moment before Starscream swiped his hand across them and the light burning sensation faded.
Just like that mech…
Prowl’s strategy protocols told the Datsun where all the good hand and foot holds were. It would not pay for him to not take advantage of his battle processors excellent strategic thinking to use, especially since the person inside the cave needed his immediate attention. The dull purple splashes of energon revealed the mech’s condition. No one could leave that much energon and expect to survive for long. And despite the obvious dangers of reaching such a place, the cave was a safe haven for those who managed to reach it.
Prowl swung into the cave and landed on all fours, scanning the darkness of the cave with intense, ice blue optics. He straightened, shaking out some kinks in his doorwings, and proceeded to walk deeper into the cave. As he walked, he splashed through several large puddles of dark purple energon, leaving bloody foot prints in his wake. The fact those puddles were even there was more than enough motivation to make Prowl run the rest of the way, drops of energon splashing up his legs and lower thighs.
Prowl rounded a corner, stopped dead, and couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him. Though his logic circuits told him to keep moving, the few emotions he still retained were strong enough to override them and lock him in place.
Dark purple energon was everywhere, on the walls, on the ceiling; the floor was practically swimming in it and it lapped against Prowl’s feet.
Fear pulsing through his own energon lines, Prowl rushed into the bloody interior, splashing more of the lifeblood on his person, and crashed next to a winged figure lying on the ground. Prowl reached down and turned the nigh dead figure over, ice blue optics scanning and rescanning for vital signs. Severe energon loss (like it was not obvious), multiple deep lacerations to the mech’s superstructure and internal wiring, several crushed framework pieces, multiple cranial injuries, and two dislocated wing joints.
Prowl almost cried out in despair for the unconscious mech, but he knew the mech in his arms needed his medical attention more than he needed Prowl’s sympathy or emotional care. Setting the mech down on his front, careful not to damage the dislocated wing joints on his back, he took out the basic medical kit that all the officers kept on their persons for just such an emergency. Prowl learned long ago that he would need more than just a basic medical kit to keep his former mate alive.
Prowl set about the horrible task of stemming the energon flowing out of the wounded mech. More of the lifeblood splashed his front and arms and he worked quickly and precisely, leaving no room for error or lost time. The flashes and sparks from the welding torch played around the cave and across the two mechs’ frames. To the unknowing observer, it would have looked like a macabre, robotic version of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein.
Prowl put the welding torch down and sighed almost in relief. The major lacerations hadn’t done too much damage to the delicate understructure (which was a simple job as only some minor wiring had been completely severed and motor relays just needed to be reattached) and a lick of paint would cover the wounds as though they weren’t there. As for the damage to the mech’s frame… Prowl didn’t have the resources nor the time to set each piece of the frame in order. They would require several days and a few of Ratchet’s tools to fix. Thankfully, the frame would hold out, but the work was far from done.
The cranial damage demanded Prowl’s attention, despite the lack of energon flowing from the open wounds. Prowl’s energon covered hands traced over each dent and crack, processor assessing and diagnosing possible harm and possible cure for each. Prowl smiled sadly when most the readings came back under the “Immediate Threat” line. His mate always did have a hard head, which was why he was in this condition in the first place.
Still, despite the reprimand he wanted to give to the mech, Prowl simply picked up a smaller welder and some black paint he kept on his person just in case and got to work on the mech’s helm. Small sparks played off the downed mech’s faceplates, softening his hard features and giving it a stunning contrast. Prowl stopped welding shut his fourth crack and just gazed as his former mate’s face. The frown normally displayed on his face was gone replaced with a relaxed look of someone deep in recharge.
Prowl leaned down to study the mech’s face up close, noting the dark dermaplating and the dark russet optics were covered in tiny scratches and cuts. He frowned. Too small to weld, but big enough to notice. Still, Prowl ignored the mech’s deplorable condition, lightly touching olfactory structures and shuttered his optics as memories flashed across his mind.
The two of them walking across Vos’s upper towers, saying hello to the other mechs and femmes flying overhead.
Sadness at the days spent away from each other during training, and supreme joy at their reunion.
Talking with friends at the local plaza, secretly nudging each other playfully.
One night watching the stars sail across the endless expanse of black sky.
The day it all went to hell.
Prowl shot up as the last memory flashed across his mind. What happened that day happened and he couldn’t change it. Prowl shook his head and tried to clear the memory from his mind. Dwelling on the past won’t serve the present. To further distract himself, he finished mending the downed mech’s helm and touched it up with several licks of the black paint.
Prowl stepped sat back and admired his handiwork. While still in a bad state, the mech would survive. Prowl’s battle processor was never wrong about such things, but the mech definitely needed to refuel. Prowl eased his way through the dark purple energon covering the floor to the mech’s head and gently lifted the mech’s head into his lap. He placed one of the cube’s corners on his lips and eased the fuel into the mech’s mouth. A little at a time, then rubbing the mech’s neck to slide the energon down into his tank.
This had to be one of the few times Prowl could get this close to his former mate without getting shot at and he cherished every single moment. Granted, he wished the mech would actually be awake when he arrived, but then he’d never get close.
Three empty cubes later, Prowl turned the mech over and inspected the wing structures. While he may not have gotten the upgrade needed to take to the skies, he did know more than most about the dynamics and structures of wings. A simple joint dislocation was easy to fix (thank Primus it was only dislocated) and Prowl popped both joints back into place. How the mech had managed to fly to the cave in the first place was beyond him.
Still, his mate would survive.
Prowl packed away his medical kit and looked back at his mate’s faceplates. His spark ached at the thought of leaving him behind again, but it had to be done. He’d left the mech lying here in his own energon before and he still managed to shoot him on the battlefield. But… his spark gave a painful throb, just once he wanted to do what he had even been afraid to do before they were separated.
Before his logic circuits could kick in and stop him, Prowl quickly kissed the mech’s lips, running his glossa over his partner’s lip components.
Just a short harsh kiss and Prowl tore away from the seeker and ran from the cave, his fading footsteps echoing around the dark cave.
They had been separated once and would never reunite.
---
Starscream’s optics came back online and he groaned in pain.
Or rather, the lack thereof.
He shot up from the floor and looked around the cave. His energon covered the walls and himself, but there was no sign of anyone else. Every time he came to this particular cave injured and passed out from pain, he always woke up near fully repaired.
Starscream was sick of it. True, he was grateful that someone would bother to help him, but it wounded his pride to know that someone had seen him in such a vulnerable position. He looked around the cave again and shakily got to his feet, his frame audibly rattling.
For the first time, Starscream noticed footprints in the energon, and odd splash patterns along the walls.
They were fresh.
So whoever had helped him must still be nearby!
“Show yourself!!” Starscream shouted. “I know you’re here!! Don’t try to hide from me!!”
He heard the distinct sound of someone stumbling echo down the cave. So Starscream surprised his quarry, did he? Ignoring the slight twinges of pain, he ran toward the cave’s entrance. Running footsteps that were not his own echoed down the cave, then suddenly stopped.
He had nearly reached the mouth of the cave when a loud splash alerted him to the location of his quarry. He stopped at the edge of the cave and looked down into the white and blue ocean below.
There was no sign of anyone there or any vapor trails to follow.
“Don’t think you can run from me forever!!” He shouted across the ocean. “I will find out who you are!! You’ll slip up one of these days and then you’ll rue the day you every touched my person!!” Only the call of some seagulls overhead answered his challenge. He glowered and turned back into the cave.
He’d find the slagger who kept on repairing him and find out why they kept on doing so. A slight tingling in his lip components bothered him for a moment before Starscream swiped his hand across them and the light burning sensation faded.
Just like that mech…