Because this bit demanded I wrote it.
Sorry, I had to write this to exorcise the music. It does contain spoilers for 'A Look Can Be Deceiving. A Touch Can Be Lethal.' It's just an scene I'll probably end up adding to one of the chapters. Beware for Elita One with a temper and death wishes over Shockwave.
"No!" Elita One's palms slammed hard against the surface of her desk. She was standing, looming over the mech sitting across from her, staring at her defiantly. "I have told you before we cannot afford to risk soldiers for your personal vendetta."
"Let me go alone, then."
"And let you get yourself killed just because you cannot let this go?" Elita One frowned deeply, locking her blue optics with the by now almost white optics of the mech before her. "I'm not stupid, Prowl. If you try anything I'll have you thrown in the brig in no time."
"You cannot deny me this." Prowl's hands that were resting neatly on his lap balled into tight fists.
"I can, and I will. Don't test my patience, Prowl."
"You can't hold me back in this place."
Elita One's fist slammed against her, by now, very abused desk once more. "That's enough! You're not allowed to leave this base for the next deca-cycle. If you so much as lay a foot out of this base, you'll be in the brig in no time. Now get out of my sight!"
Prowl did not reply and merely left the room, his optics crackled with barely contained energy --a proof of his anger. Elita One didn't understand. She couldn't understand. She was not the one chained down to that table, to have her body tampered with to satisfy the pseudo-scientific curiosity of a mech without morals. No, she couldn't understand why Prowl wanted nothing more than to crush Shockwave's cranium under his foot.
The black and white mech brushed past Perceptor, barely acknowledging the mech's presence while he headed for his personal quarters. One day Elita One would see things his way, and sooner or later he would have his revenge. No one would be able to stop him, not even Elita One.
Perceptor cast a wary glance over his shoulder to the tactician who brushed past him. He could feel so keenly the anger and building up energy on the other mech's body as he walked past him. Perceptor worried, he knew very well what thoughts were going through the tactician's mind. He knew the way his anger and trauma were affecting his rational mind, and his capacity to process thoughts efficiently as he normally did.
He had been able to help Prowl out when Elita One's unit rescued him from Shockwave's clutches, but he was well aware a mech like Prowl was likely to suffer very serious consequences to that experience. Prowl wasn't prepared to deal with the emotional aftershock. Perceptor worried. He worried Prowl was losing his mind. He worried maybe there was nothing he could do to help.
"No!" Elita One's palms slammed hard against the surface of her desk. She was standing, looming over the mech sitting across from her, staring at her defiantly. "I have told you before we cannot afford to risk soldiers for your personal vendetta."
"Let me go alone, then."
"And let you get yourself killed just because you cannot let this go?" Elita One frowned deeply, locking her blue optics with the by now almost white optics of the mech before her. "I'm not stupid, Prowl. If you try anything I'll have you thrown in the brig in no time."
"You cannot deny me this." Prowl's hands that were resting neatly on his lap balled into tight fists.
"I can, and I will. Don't test my patience, Prowl."
"You can't hold me back in this place."
Elita One's fist slammed against her, by now, very abused desk once more. "That's enough! You're not allowed to leave this base for the next deca-cycle. If you so much as lay a foot out of this base, you'll be in the brig in no time. Now get out of my sight!"
Prowl did not reply and merely left the room, his optics crackled with barely contained energy --a proof of his anger. Elita One didn't understand. She couldn't understand. She was not the one chained down to that table, to have her body tampered with to satisfy the pseudo-scientific curiosity of a mech without morals. No, she couldn't understand why Prowl wanted nothing more than to crush Shockwave's cranium under his foot.
The black and white mech brushed past Perceptor, barely acknowledging the mech's presence while he headed for his personal quarters. One day Elita One would see things his way, and sooner or later he would have his revenge. No one would be able to stop him, not even Elita One.
Perceptor cast a wary glance over his shoulder to the tactician who brushed past him. He could feel so keenly the anger and building up energy on the other mech's body as he walked past him. Perceptor worried, he knew very well what thoughts were going through the tactician's mind. He knew the way his anger and trauma were affecting his rational mind, and his capacity to process thoughts efficiently as he normally did.
He had been able to help Prowl out when Elita One's unit rescued him from Shockwave's clutches, but he was well aware a mech like Prowl was likely to suffer very serious consequences to that experience. Prowl wasn't prepared to deal with the emotional aftershock. Perceptor worried. He worried Prowl was losing his mind. He worried maybe there was nothing he could do to help.