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Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Prowl & YOU?
Where: Somewhere in the city
When: A day or so after giving Verity a concussion
What: Prowl has a few robot papercuts and bruises to patch up; he also searches the fuck out of Verity's apartment
Warnings: Asshole ahoy, and some self repair
A.
With relatively minor injuries, there was nothing stopping Prowl from continuing his pursuit of the Aequitas data once Verity had escaped and he was left alone. No repurposed debris or improvised lock was left unturned as he searched her apartment via holoform. Being able to Sherlock-sense his way through a room certainly helped narrow it down, but in the end his search was unfruitful.
All he'd pulled from the impromptu home were data slugs - ones that were quickly discovered to be dummies once he ran a scan of them through his systems. Leaving nearly everything as it was, nearly everything, he shifts back into vehicle mode and abandons the building.
A dead end.
B.
Eventually, Prowl allows himself a moment of reprise in a blasted out building he'd found for himself. Not the most glamorous of locations, but functional for what he needed. Somewhere to sit, be alone and tend to himself.
Prowl's wounds were minor enough that any Autobot with basic knowledge of first aid could repair them. His tools were rudimentary, but functional enough to realign some of the actuators that had been popped out of place. The pain was dull as he picked into the transformation joints of his ankle with a pair of large pliers, feeling them snap back into their anchors with a little persuasion.
Satisfied, he slides away his shoulder armor to begin to dig into his shoulder joint, unbothered by the small amount of energon still seeping out of broken lines. That should heal well enough on its own.
Where: Somewhere in the city
When: A day or so after giving Verity a concussion
What: Prowl has a few robot papercuts and bruises to patch up; he also searches the fuck out of Verity's apartment
Warnings: Asshole ahoy, and some self repair
A.
With relatively minor injuries, there was nothing stopping Prowl from continuing his pursuit of the Aequitas data once Verity had escaped and he was left alone. No repurposed debris or improvised lock was left unturned as he searched her apartment via holoform. Being able to Sherlock-sense his way through a room certainly helped narrow it down, but in the end his search was unfruitful.
All he'd pulled from the impromptu home were data slugs - ones that were quickly discovered to be dummies once he ran a scan of them through his systems. Leaving nearly everything as it was, nearly everything, he shifts back into vehicle mode and abandons the building.
A dead end.
B.
Eventually, Prowl allows himself a moment of reprise in a blasted out building he'd found for himself. Not the most glamorous of locations, but functional for what he needed. Somewhere to sit, be alone and tend to himself.
Prowl's wounds were minor enough that any Autobot with basic knowledge of first aid could repair them. His tools were rudimentary, but functional enough to realign some of the actuators that had been popped out of place. The pain was dull as he picked into the transformation joints of his ankle with a pair of large pliers, feeling them snap back into their anchors with a little persuasion.
Satisfied, he slides away his shoulder armor to begin to dig into his shoulder joint, unbothered by the small amount of energon still seeping out of broken lines. That should heal well enough on its own.
no subject
Bitter thoughts hounded him as he wanders ghostlike through the streets. So many things he could have said and didn't. So many things he could have done, but no, he couldn't do that either. He pauses when he catches sight of the last person he wants to see. He feels he's done a good job so far avoiding his old friend, but he can't put it off forever. Besides, Chromedome feels up for a fight, whether it be verbal or otherwise.
He pauses for a long moment, summoning up all his anger to one area around his spark, and follows Prowl inside. There's no right way to start a conversation here, so instead he leans against a doorway, watching Prowl tend to his wounds with an expression of utmost loathing.
But Prowl should be used to that by now.
no subject
Rising to his feet, he wipes the remaining energon from his shoulder and closes the armor plates. He removes the pliers from his wrist where he'd been tending to a torn cable and stows it away. The combiner frame left no shortage of room.
"You must be desperate if you've come looking for me," he remarks snidely.
no subject
One thing Chromedome is good at doing is being casual even when life is crumbling down around him. So it requires no effort at all to appear casual here. What he really wants to do is kick Prowl in the face. He feverishly hopes that Prowl will give him a reason to.
"After all, what could have possibly have damaged the great and mighty Prowl? Unless you got those from tripping and falling down some stairs. I sure hope so, because that'd be hilarious."
no subject
He was still in the process of doing so, not that Chromedome needed to do that. But Prowl knew Chromedome wouldn't ordinarily search him out for a fight, unless:
"Rewind's gone, then? I'm sorry to hear that," for all the lack of shits he gave about the little bot's wellbeing, he managed to inject a little false modesty in the sentence.
no subject
Because if he did, he was absolutely right.
Chromedome is tempted to lash out then and there, but due to some amazing self-control, he somehow manages not to. Not that Prowl deserves this consideration.
"He's been gone for a while. Sorry you're so slow on the uptake." He pauses thoughtfully. "You know, considering where we are, you'd think that you'd take a break from whatever scheming you're probably doing. Even bastards like you should relax once in a while, yes?"