Advent Calendar Day 20
Title: Delayed Reaction
Verse: TF Animated
Characters: Prowl and the gang
Disclaimer: All the TF franchise belongs to Hasbro and others; poor me!
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1106 in 104 minutes
Prompt: loss of temper scenario
Note: Fits into my "Symmetry in Contrasts" Verse, but can stand on its own just fine.
Summary: A meditation deprived Prowl is better given a wide berth and NOT to be disturbed...
Delayed Reaction
Prowl's room was still buried under rubble and not yet in any habitable state. The efforts to reconstruct it were slow going, but the humans did an admirably throughout job, for which the ninjabot was grateful.
The Decepticon surprise attack had accomplished nothing beyond this inconvenience, not even his tree had come to serious harm. Nevertheless, it was truly unfortunate because Prowl had to relocate his meditation spot and, due to the weather, the only viable alternative was the main room, of all places.
Of course going there could only invite trouble and disturbances, but Prowl was in sore need to get back into his routine. His Circuit-Su performance was already weakened due to the lack of mental rest. Prowl was confident that his patience could outlast any interruption his fellow Autobots would surely provide him with; deliberate or not.
Then again, of course, far greater 'bots than him had been proven wrong and it was never good to make assumptions...
Prowl had just reached his chosen spot on a shut down conveyor belt and settled down, with his legs neatly folded under him and his servos resting lightly on his knees, when heavy footsteps clanked into the room.
“Heya, Prowl!” Bulkhead greeted cheerfully before his processor could catch up with what he saw. “Whoops! Sorry, just ignore me!”
Prowl nodded slightly in acknowledgment, although he could feel that Bulkhead had already turned away towards the little media center Sari had gifted them with. He braced himself and, as expected, a moment later the roar of a motocross race echoed off the walls; blaring from the flat screen's speakers.
Prowl shifted slightly and tried to settle more deeply into his center, which would allow him to tune out the noise. His controlled ventilation's slowed down to a degree that would have Ratchet worried, as he relaxed and reached stage two; disconnection from his surroundings.
He maintained that state, although Bulkhead turned the volume up twice, having totally forgotten about the ninjabot in his excitement over the violent games humans referred to as 'sport'.
Slightly creaking joints accompanied the footsteps that gave Ratchet away. The medic's glance grazed the ninjabots frame like an invisible weight, judging his condition, before he greeted Bulkhead and settled down on the couch.
Prowl sank deeper into his trance, feeling his frame becoming lighter and -
SCREAK!
SCREAK!
SCREEEAAAKKK!!!!
The last screech ended in such a high note that it send unpleasant shivers through Prowl's backstrut. His optics snapped open in irritation and he searched for its source: Ratchet was fiddling around with an old armor plate, turning bolts here and there, producing more squeaks in the process.
Anger bubbled up inside Prowl and he struggled with himself to contain it, worried about his lack of control that only his meditation would reestablish. Disgruntled, Prowl shifted his weight and began anew.
To sink into his trance he let go of the sound of roaring machines, the cheering masses and those screeching bolts, the barking dog in the neighborhood, the twittering birds in the sky and the hum of the TV...
With every intake a part of the world around him fell away, allowing his focus to narrow down to a pinpoint and opening himself up to the energies around him.
Prowl had almost reached the final stage when pedes tip-toed closer with a minor tapping noise that most 'bots would not have noticed. But he did and suddenly, Prowl was utterly fed up with all of this - he was in no mood to humor Bumblebee's in his little sneaking game. His chance for inner peace was lost to him and Prowl decided that certain 'bots would pay.
Revenge was best served could, though. So Prowl did what ninjabots were wont to do - he vanished a klick before Bee's servo could poke his shoulder plate.
XXX
“Aw! Darn, he heard me again,” Bee complained, sounding as disappointed as he looked with his childish pout.
“Hmph, you're not supposed to tease the poor 'bot. He had no chance to meditate for a week. He's on edge, lad,” Ratchet admonished and turned his wrench with enough force to bend the bolt he had tried to fasten. “That will only invite more trouble than you can handle.”
“Gah! Stop that noise, old timer! You're not any better than me!”
“What was that, young one?!”
“Shh!” Bulkhead hissed, optics glued to the screen. “I want to watch the race!”
Bee shrugged and settled down beside his friend. He didn't fear any kind of retribution from Prowl. That stoic 'bot never lost his temper and boy, had Bee tried to get a rise out of him! Besides, it would do the ninjabot some good to cut down on his stillness nonsense.
“Wow, did you see that?! Motocross is sooo great!”
XXX
“Where the Pit are all my tools?! Bumblebee, I swear, if that was you I'll reformat you into a toaster!” Ratchet stormed out of his med-bay, his empty toolbox in one servo, and looked around with a wild gaze.
“Optimus!”
“Yes, Bulkhead?” the young Autobot leader asked, ignoring the furious medic.
“Someone removed all the circuit boards from our TV!”
“...come again?”
Bulkhead pointed to the offending device and Optimus could see that he had removed the cover. As he had claimed, the inside was nothing but a gaping hole.
Optimus had the feeling he might know who the culprit was and for once, he didn't suspect their resident troublemaker. “Where is Bumblebee?”
“That's what I want to know,” Ratchet muttered darkly.
They found the youngling two hours later, in the dusty attic of a neighboring building. The yellow 'bot was resting comfortably on a nest of blankets - tied up like a Christmas package.
XXX
“Don't you think you went a bit too far?” Optimus asked, trying to keep his faceplate straight.
“I do see no proof that I were involved. Besides, no one seems to have suffered lasting damage,” Prowl answered mildly. His mood had vastly improved, not only because he had meditated for hours on end without any disturbance, but because even three days later his fellow Autobots treaded extra carefully around him. It was a pity, really - he had not even tried (yet).
Optimus snorted. There was really nothing he could say to that since Prowl had the perfect alibi - half of Detroit's police force was backing up his claim that he had been on patrol.
And if Prowl's smile looked slightly smug, well, that hardly counted as evidence.
End
Verse: TF Animated
Characters: Prowl and the gang
Disclaimer: All the TF franchise belongs to Hasbro and others; poor me!
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1106 in 104 minutes
Prompt: loss of temper scenario
Note: Fits into my "Symmetry in Contrasts" Verse, but can stand on its own just fine.
Summary: A meditation deprived Prowl is better given a wide berth and NOT to be disturbed...
Delayed Reaction
Prowl's room was still buried under rubble and not yet in any habitable state. The efforts to reconstruct it were slow going, but the humans did an admirably throughout job, for which the ninjabot was grateful.
The Decepticon surprise attack had accomplished nothing beyond this inconvenience, not even his tree had come to serious harm. Nevertheless, it was truly unfortunate because Prowl had to relocate his meditation spot and, due to the weather, the only viable alternative was the main room, of all places.
Of course going there could only invite trouble and disturbances, but Prowl was in sore need to get back into his routine. His Circuit-Su performance was already weakened due to the lack of mental rest. Prowl was confident that his patience could outlast any interruption his fellow Autobots would surely provide him with; deliberate or not.
Then again, of course, far greater 'bots than him had been proven wrong and it was never good to make assumptions...
Prowl had just reached his chosen spot on a shut down conveyor belt and settled down, with his legs neatly folded under him and his servos resting lightly on his knees, when heavy footsteps clanked into the room.
“Heya, Prowl!” Bulkhead greeted cheerfully before his processor could catch up with what he saw. “Whoops! Sorry, just ignore me!”
Prowl nodded slightly in acknowledgment, although he could feel that Bulkhead had already turned away towards the little media center Sari had gifted them with. He braced himself and, as expected, a moment later the roar of a motocross race echoed off the walls; blaring from the flat screen's speakers.
Prowl shifted slightly and tried to settle more deeply into his center, which would allow him to tune out the noise. His controlled ventilation's slowed down to a degree that would have Ratchet worried, as he relaxed and reached stage two; disconnection from his surroundings.
He maintained that state, although Bulkhead turned the volume up twice, having totally forgotten about the ninjabot in his excitement over the violent games humans referred to as 'sport'.
Slightly creaking joints accompanied the footsteps that gave Ratchet away. The medic's glance grazed the ninjabots frame like an invisible weight, judging his condition, before he greeted Bulkhead and settled down on the couch.
Prowl sank deeper into his trance, feeling his frame becoming lighter and -
SCREAK!
SCREAK!
SCREEEAAAKKK!!!!
The last screech ended in such a high note that it send unpleasant shivers through Prowl's backstrut. His optics snapped open in irritation and he searched for its source: Ratchet was fiddling around with an old armor plate, turning bolts here and there, producing more squeaks in the process.
Anger bubbled up inside Prowl and he struggled with himself to contain it, worried about his lack of control that only his meditation would reestablish. Disgruntled, Prowl shifted his weight and began anew.
To sink into his trance he let go of the sound of roaring machines, the cheering masses and those screeching bolts, the barking dog in the neighborhood, the twittering birds in the sky and the hum of the TV...
With every intake a part of the world around him fell away, allowing his focus to narrow down to a pinpoint and opening himself up to the energies around him.
Prowl had almost reached the final stage when pedes tip-toed closer with a minor tapping noise that most 'bots would not have noticed. But he did and suddenly, Prowl was utterly fed up with all of this - he was in no mood to humor Bumblebee's in his little sneaking game. His chance for inner peace was lost to him and Prowl decided that certain 'bots would pay.
Revenge was best served could, though. So Prowl did what ninjabots were wont to do - he vanished a klick before Bee's servo could poke his shoulder plate.
XXX
“Aw! Darn, he heard me again,” Bee complained, sounding as disappointed as he looked with his childish pout.
“Hmph, you're not supposed to tease the poor 'bot. He had no chance to meditate for a week. He's on edge, lad,” Ratchet admonished and turned his wrench with enough force to bend the bolt he had tried to fasten. “That will only invite more trouble than you can handle.”
“Gah! Stop that noise, old timer! You're not any better than me!”
“What was that, young one?!”
“Shh!” Bulkhead hissed, optics glued to the screen. “I want to watch the race!”
Bee shrugged and settled down beside his friend. He didn't fear any kind of retribution from Prowl. That stoic 'bot never lost his temper and boy, had Bee tried to get a rise out of him! Besides, it would do the ninjabot some good to cut down on his stillness nonsense.
“Wow, did you see that?! Motocross is sooo great!”
XXX
“Where the Pit are all my tools?! Bumblebee, I swear, if that was you I'll reformat you into a toaster!” Ratchet stormed out of his med-bay, his empty toolbox in one servo, and looked around with a wild gaze.
“Optimus!”
“Yes, Bulkhead?” the young Autobot leader asked, ignoring the furious medic.
“Someone removed all the circuit boards from our TV!”
“...come again?”
Bulkhead pointed to the offending device and Optimus could see that he had removed the cover. As he had claimed, the inside was nothing but a gaping hole.
Optimus had the feeling he might know who the culprit was and for once, he didn't suspect their resident troublemaker. “Where is Bumblebee?”
“That's what I want to know,” Ratchet muttered darkly.
They found the youngling two hours later, in the dusty attic of a neighboring building. The yellow 'bot was resting comfortably on a nest of blankets - tied up like a Christmas package.
XXX
“Don't you think you went a bit too far?” Optimus asked, trying to keep his faceplate straight.
“I do see no proof that I were involved. Besides, no one seems to have suffered lasting damage,” Prowl answered mildly. His mood had vastly improved, not only because he had meditated for hours on end without any disturbance, but because even three days later his fellow Autobots treaded extra carefully around him. It was a pity, really - he had not even tried (yet).
Optimus snorted. There was really nothing he could say to that since Prowl had the perfect alibi - half of Detroit's police force was backing up his claim that he had been on patrol.
And if Prowl's smile looked slightly smug, well, that hardly counted as evidence.
End