Starting the week with Art
Title: The Art of Deception. (11/??)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.
Characters: Prowl, Smokscreen.
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to snugsbunny and used with permission.
Many thanks to mmouse15 for kindly beta reading this for me and wicked3659 for her input.
For several deca-cycles life seemed to be quite good. Surviving the first class with Lockdown led Prowl to actually being able to participate in Lockdown’s course thoroughly and learned quite a few things he didn’t know, and how to do things he knew in different ways. It was by far one of his favorite classes and one he found most useful.
He had good grades during his first period in all his subjects, but made a point to keep his scores somewhere along the ‘high-average’ intending to meld into the group of students the best he could. He didn’t have many friends amongst his classmates but got along well with most of them. Not only did he need that interaction in order to meld but also to weed out what students he could use to his advantage if the need did arise.
He had a considerable sum of currency to his name and the Academy provided everything he needed, but old habits were hard to get rid of and more than once Prowl had to restrain himself from cassually acquiring data cards and random belongings of his class mates, not because he needed them or he was compulsive about stealing something but just because he could and because the thrill of trying to take someone else’s possessions or currency without being caught. It was a habit that he carried with him for almost all his life, and it was hard to weed himself out of it.
He wasn’t holding back just to start a fresh life in Iacon; he wasn’t that good of a mech, and certainly hardly ethical and moral considering how he got himself into the Academy. No, he just wanted to succeed and bid his time for when he could get away with his more juvenile behavior, or what he considered was juvenile. He wanted to forge himself a new life, and his old habits and his old life would be just additional skills to get himself where he wanted to be.
Which called into question what was what Prowl wanted to be. Ironically, he had gone into the academy without a clear idea of what kind of career to pursuit, but the more he hung around with Jazz, the more he became interested in the most unlikely and ironical of professions. An enforcer.
But Prowl himself knew life wasn’t going to be a flawless, smooth walk through the local gardens, and Smokescreen proved him right the cycle their first test results were delivered.
“I’m fairly pleased with all of you. A few students will need to work a little harder in the course to pass with good scores, but overall you’re all doing great.” Smokescreen moved around the room, handing pads containing detailed reviews of each student’s exams along with the scores, highlighting strengths and weakness and offering advice to improve their scores.
He made a point to leave Prowl for last, and he gave him a pointed look along with a smirk when he delivered a perfect score for his exam. “Of course, there’s a few that need little improvements to get excellent scores, and I would expect no less from such students.”
Prowl had once again to restrain himself from reacting to the clear baiting Smokescreen was throwing at him. Over the past few deca-cycles Smokescreen seemed to have noticed Prowl’s tension whenever his Praxian make was brought up and the most devious side of the teacher set about discovering the reasons behind the young mech’s apparent discomfort about his Praxian origins. It was something that in Smokescreen’s opinion he should be very proud about, rather than act with such discomfort.
Smokescreen’s baiting however, only managed to make Prowl dislike him more and more, and feel further disgusted about his own Praxian appearance. By this point it was only Jazz’s like of his chevron and wing panels what kept him from trying to get himself modified enough so he wouldn’t look like a pure Praxian.
“That’s all for today, you may retire.” Smokescreen headed back to his desk. “Oh, except you, Prowl. I’d like to have a word with you.”
Prowl held back a groan as he nodded and dutifully strolled to the teacher’s desk, sitting on the front line right across from Smokescreen. “Yes, sir?”
Smokescreen waited until all the students had left and he turned back to look at Prowl, remotely closing the door to avoid anyone trying to peep in. “I’ll go straight to the matter, Prowl.” Smokescreen interlaces his fingers and rested his elbows on the table, covering his mouth with his hands. “I am intrigued. You seem to be quite...uncomfortable with the praises I sing for you. It’s the first time I've encountered such a thing.”
Prowl didn’t want to have this conversation at all but knew he had to respond. He decided to go for a half truth. “I am uncomfortable that the praises you sing to my name seem to be strongly based on my frame type, sir.”
“That you’re Praxian.” Smokescreen stated Prowl’s roundabout wording.
“That my frame type is of Praxian origin.” Prowl corrected Smokescreen.
Smokescreen smirked, he couldn’t help but find it a tad amusing Prowl was trying so hard not to call himself a Praxian. “There you go, avoiding accepting your Praxian heritage. Why is that?”
“I’m not Praxian.” Prowl’s lips set into a thin line, muttering his response.
“Your frame type says otherwise. And that chevron marks someone of a high ranking, either by social status or personal capacities that go beyond the average Praxian population.” Smokescreen smirked. “I’m of the good mind of assuming your chevron is untapered because of the latter rather than the prior.”
“Untapered?” Prowl’s optics flickered in confusion.
Smokescreen’s optics widened in surprise, not at all expecting Prowl to be ignorant of the chevron traditions. “You don’t know about the tapering of a Praxian’s chevron?”
“Jazz mentioned he had never seen an untapered chevron, but that’s all I know about the subject.”
“Where exactly did you grow up?” Smokescreen’s optics narrowed in understanding, Prowl had not been raised in Praxus; that had to be obvious if he didn’t know about the conventions of a chevron’s length and tapering.
Prowl shifted a little, unsure whether he should reveal his city of origin or not, but decided he might as well be honest about that, even if he did not intend to reveal the kind of upbringing he had. “I was raised in Kaon, sir.”
“Kaon?” Smokescreen gasped. “Were your progenitors not Praxian?”
Prowl couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he tried to hold back a sneer of disgust. “They must be, I suppose. I wasn’t raised by any Praxian in my family, sir.”
“That would certainly explain...” Smokescreen shook his head and decided he’d need to do some investigation later on but would let Prowl go for now. “We’ll continue with this conversation later on, you may go for now.”
Prowl nodded politely and made his way out of the classroom getting the distinctive impression that the conversation wasn’t over in the least and he couldn’t help but shake the feeling it wasn’t going to get any better for him.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.
Characters: Prowl, Smokscreen.
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to snugsbunny and used with permission.
Many thanks to mmouse15 for kindly beta reading this for me and wicked3659 for her input.
For several deca-cycles life seemed to be quite good. Surviving the first class with Lockdown led Prowl to actually being able to participate in Lockdown’s course thoroughly and learned quite a few things he didn’t know, and how to do things he knew in different ways. It was by far one of his favorite classes and one he found most useful.
He had good grades during his first period in all his subjects, but made a point to keep his scores somewhere along the ‘high-average’ intending to meld into the group of students the best he could. He didn’t have many friends amongst his classmates but got along well with most of them. Not only did he need that interaction in order to meld but also to weed out what students he could use to his advantage if the need did arise.
He had a considerable sum of currency to his name and the Academy provided everything he needed, but old habits were hard to get rid of and more than once Prowl had to restrain himself from cassually acquiring data cards and random belongings of his class mates, not because he needed them or he was compulsive about stealing something but just because he could and because the thrill of trying to take someone else’s possessions or currency without being caught. It was a habit that he carried with him for almost all his life, and it was hard to weed himself out of it.
He wasn’t holding back just to start a fresh life in Iacon; he wasn’t that good of a mech, and certainly hardly ethical and moral considering how he got himself into the Academy. No, he just wanted to succeed and bid his time for when he could get away with his more juvenile behavior, or what he considered was juvenile. He wanted to forge himself a new life, and his old habits and his old life would be just additional skills to get himself where he wanted to be.
Which called into question what was what Prowl wanted to be. Ironically, he had gone into the academy without a clear idea of what kind of career to pursuit, but the more he hung around with Jazz, the more he became interested in the most unlikely and ironical of professions. An enforcer.
But Prowl himself knew life wasn’t going to be a flawless, smooth walk through the local gardens, and Smokescreen proved him right the cycle their first test results were delivered.
“I’m fairly pleased with all of you. A few students will need to work a little harder in the course to pass with good scores, but overall you’re all doing great.” Smokescreen moved around the room, handing pads containing detailed reviews of each student’s exams along with the scores, highlighting strengths and weakness and offering advice to improve their scores.
He made a point to leave Prowl for last, and he gave him a pointed look along with a smirk when he delivered a perfect score for his exam. “Of course, there’s a few that need little improvements to get excellent scores, and I would expect no less from such students.”
Prowl had once again to restrain himself from reacting to the clear baiting Smokescreen was throwing at him. Over the past few deca-cycles Smokescreen seemed to have noticed Prowl’s tension whenever his Praxian make was brought up and the most devious side of the teacher set about discovering the reasons behind the young mech’s apparent discomfort about his Praxian origins. It was something that in Smokescreen’s opinion he should be very proud about, rather than act with such discomfort.
Smokescreen’s baiting however, only managed to make Prowl dislike him more and more, and feel further disgusted about his own Praxian appearance. By this point it was only Jazz’s like of his chevron and wing panels what kept him from trying to get himself modified enough so he wouldn’t look like a pure Praxian.
“That’s all for today, you may retire.” Smokescreen headed back to his desk. “Oh, except you, Prowl. I’d like to have a word with you.”
Prowl held back a groan as he nodded and dutifully strolled to the teacher’s desk, sitting on the front line right across from Smokescreen. “Yes, sir?”
Smokescreen waited until all the students had left and he turned back to look at Prowl, remotely closing the door to avoid anyone trying to peep in. “I’ll go straight to the matter, Prowl.” Smokescreen interlaces his fingers and rested his elbows on the table, covering his mouth with his hands. “I am intrigued. You seem to be quite...uncomfortable with the praises I sing for you. It’s the first time I've encountered such a thing.”
Prowl didn’t want to have this conversation at all but knew he had to respond. He decided to go for a half truth. “I am uncomfortable that the praises you sing to my name seem to be strongly based on my frame type, sir.”
“That you’re Praxian.” Smokescreen stated Prowl’s roundabout wording.
“That my frame type is of Praxian origin.” Prowl corrected Smokescreen.
Smokescreen smirked, he couldn’t help but find it a tad amusing Prowl was trying so hard not to call himself a Praxian. “There you go, avoiding accepting your Praxian heritage. Why is that?”
“I’m not Praxian.” Prowl’s lips set into a thin line, muttering his response.
“Your frame type says otherwise. And that chevron marks someone of a high ranking, either by social status or personal capacities that go beyond the average Praxian population.” Smokescreen smirked. “I’m of the good mind of assuming your chevron is untapered because of the latter rather than the prior.”
“Untapered?” Prowl’s optics flickered in confusion.
Smokescreen’s optics widened in surprise, not at all expecting Prowl to be ignorant of the chevron traditions. “You don’t know about the tapering of a Praxian’s chevron?”
“Jazz mentioned he had never seen an untapered chevron, but that’s all I know about the subject.”
“Where exactly did you grow up?” Smokescreen’s optics narrowed in understanding, Prowl had not been raised in Praxus; that had to be obvious if he didn’t know about the conventions of a chevron’s length and tapering.
Prowl shifted a little, unsure whether he should reveal his city of origin or not, but decided he might as well be honest about that, even if he did not intend to reveal the kind of upbringing he had. “I was raised in Kaon, sir.”
“Kaon?” Smokescreen gasped. “Were your progenitors not Praxian?”
Prowl couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he tried to hold back a sneer of disgust. “They must be, I suppose. I wasn’t raised by any Praxian in my family, sir.”
“That would certainly explain...” Smokescreen shook his head and decided he’d need to do some investigation later on but would let Prowl go for now. “We’ll continue with this conversation later on, you may go for now.”
Prowl nodded politely and made his way out of the classroom getting the distinctive impression that the conversation wasn’t over in the least and he couldn’t help but shake the feeling it wasn’t going to get any better for him.