Prowl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fun_police) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2013-04-19 06:20 pm
fun_police) wrote in re_alignment_logs2013-04-19 06:20 pm
Entry tags:
Clearing the Air
WHO: Fortress Maximus and Prowl(And more in the future))
WHERE: Police HQ
WHEN: BACKDATED to the beginning of the week (April 13-ish)
WHAT: Prowl and Max discuss Garrus-9
WARNINGS: Punches to the face are highly likely
Ever since his arrival into the Haven, Prowl had hardly hesitated in finding himself a place to be, with a duty to accomplish. In this case, it was assisting in organizing the Police Force. More specifically, helping bulk up and solidify a new Investigative Division for all their forensics operations. That meant gathering investigators and beginning the construction of a crime lab as an extension of the building.
Most of that time had gone quickly and efficiently. The gathering of supplies and construction went mostly unabated. Prowl had sufficient time to branch out from his specific area of expertise to help where he could. Most of his work was in the HQ and involved a desk and a datapad with an obscene amount of data sprawled over it. A typical work-load for Prowl.
The scene Fortress Maximus would find in the HQ was a familiar one. An office organized almost to the point of vice. Each datapad and item with it's specific place, almost always labeled, and meticulously placed in rows. Most likely in alphabetical order. It would be difficult to spot any sort of blemish or dirt that had escaped Prowl's furnishing and cleaning. It was almost waiting for something to get knocked out of place.
In the center of it all was Prowl himself, in his tightly controlled room, sifting through data and taking down notes where relevant.
WHERE: Police HQ
WHEN: BACKDATED to the beginning of the week (April 13-ish)
WHAT: Prowl and Max discuss Garrus-9
WARNINGS: Punches to the face are highly likely
Ever since his arrival into the Haven, Prowl had hardly hesitated in finding himself a place to be, with a duty to accomplish. In this case, it was assisting in organizing the Police Force. More specifically, helping bulk up and solidify a new Investigative Division for all their forensics operations. That meant gathering investigators and beginning the construction of a crime lab as an extension of the building.
Most of that time had gone quickly and efficiently. The gathering of supplies and construction went mostly unabated. Prowl had sufficient time to branch out from his specific area of expertise to help where he could. Most of his work was in the HQ and involved a desk and a datapad with an obscene amount of data sprawled over it. A typical work-load for Prowl.
The scene Fortress Maximus would find in the HQ was a familiar one. An office organized almost to the point of vice. Each datapad and item with it's specific place, almost always labeled, and meticulously placed in rows. Most likely in alphabetical order. It would be difficult to spot any sort of blemish or dirt that had escaped Prowl's furnishing and cleaning. It was almost waiting for something to get knocked out of place.
In the center of it all was Prowl himself, in his tightly controlled room, sifting through data and taking down notes where relevant.
no subject
He casually addressed his internal comm link, pinging someone, or perhaps simply checking a message, and looked up.
Expectedly, Prowl's face was calm and collected, his hands were folded, and for all intents and purposes of the conversation, he seemed almost perfectly relaxed when any normal mech faced with this problem shouldn't be.
"Fortress Maximus. It is good to see you"
no subject
Had he at all? Hard to remember. Hardly relevant to the matter at hand, either.
"That's all you have to say?" he asked after a moment, red optics slitting slowly.
no subject
Why was he allowed to walk around freely again?
In any case, the Autobot stands up from his chair to show that he had every intent to give him his full attention. His expression was still as reserved as when he had entered.
"You want to discuss Garrus-9."
no subject
No, he doesn't want to talk about Garrus-9. Talking about Garrus-9 never gets him anywhere. In fact, he doesn't want to do talking at all.
"I want an explanation."
Prowl can talk. Max will even listen.
no subject
Prowl was now presented with a conundrum which took about one or two seconds to think on before he made a decision. The way this conversation was phrased was assuming he had been guilty of something, when in fact, he had just been doing his job.
On one hand, talking would buy him time between him and what Fort Max had intended after his conversation. On the other, it would make it seem like he knew he was guilty.
... He was never one to prefer principle over practicality.
"You are aware of the Surge, yes?"
no subject
To be absolutely and completely fair, there were very few right words in this kind of situation. There were words, worse words, and ones that would set off a reaction-
-in this case, it was the slamming of a fist on the table. For an arm that'd been across his chest a moment ago, it'd moved with record speed, something breaking under it.
"Did your 'Surge' take up three slagging years!?"
no subject
"I didn't plan for it to go the way it did, no.", he stops for the briefest moment before.. continuing that thought.
"I.. lost control."
"One way or another, the Decepticons had practically destroyed the chain of command, as well as any strategy I had set up. Intelligence and Autobot units were scattered. Garrus-9 had been reported destroyed up until a month or so before your rescue."
"In retrospect, a lot of the decisions I made.. could have been handled better. If I knew then what I know now, it would have resulted in less soldiers hurt and killed in the crossfire. But yet, in the end, I lost control of the situation, and it hurt you and countless others in the process. A lot of which weren't able to shoulder the results like you have. I do not intend on letting the situation repeat itself."
"I... don't expect you to forgive me, but just know that I am aware of the consequences of my actions, and... "
"And I apologize."
That was probably as genuine an answer that Maximus was going to get. He wasn't even sure if this was going to work. Maximus didn't really know him, he probably didn't know what an admission like this was to someone like Prowl. But, considering what his suffering had saved them, he deserved something of an answer.
no subject
Still, it slackened. Slightly. His gaze never moved from Prowl, but instead of outright brandishing his anger, his face clouded. Perhaps not so much unreadable, but...
Maximus had experience in hiding his thoughts. Three years of hard-fought experience, to the point where it often became difficult to show them. But hiding, or at least veiling reactions- that, that he could do. And he'd gotten very good at it. For all the world, Prowl had an attentive audience, one who was mulling over this explanation- this confession...
But in the end, it still didn't save Prowl from getting punched in the face. A single strike, strong and sure, and without a hint of warning.
no subject
"!!!"
Expectedly, he's flung back, past the chair, and into the back wall with a heavy dent of the metal. The adjacent walls shake a little from the impact, knocking a few of the carefully organized objects onto the floor. A hand immediately comes to his face as he recovers from the shock of the impact, slowly steadying himself with his other arm. Energon began to leak from his face, though he wasn't entirely sure from where.
He finds it's best not to say anything after an outburst like this. So despite his stunned look and his staggering stance he.. manages to keep some form of composure. He manages to keep control. There's just the sound of heavy sighs from his vents as he gets back up again. And perhaps a drip or two of the glowing fluid escaping from his fingers and hitting the ground.
no subject
The sarcasm is tempered by only cold rage. Max is leaning down again, once more with his hands gripping the desk.
"Because we were counting on you to do that, Prowl. To remember to check for survivors. We waited for years, and you forgot about us. Do you know how much I did to even try and send some sort of ping out?" he snarls, voice thick as the memories prick at the back of his processor, "to remind you all we even existed!?"
no subject
His hand had slipped from his mouth after he had gotten his bearings and stood up straight again. He had done his best to wipe the sprung leak from his face, but it isn't long before it began to trail down again. He gave his apology already, he wasn't about to snivel in front of Maximus if that's what he wanted.
"Did you think I had infinite resources? All Autobots had been compromised, we had barely been pulling out of the brink."
He steps out of the mess of the wall. Although his optics were focused on Maximus himself, he was also thinking of how to possibly slip out of this mess. As much as this conversation might be necessary, Prowl would prefer not to keep himself so exposed. Measurements and judgements were being made as he gauged the gaps between Maximus and the wall, as well as the door.
Would he have time to shift into alt mode and slip out of there? He was running the numbers now.
"I needed solid evidence before I could assign what few resources remained. I did what I could with what I had."
no subject
Maybe it's the way his processor has rooted itself. Running for so long in one direction that attempts to pull it another way only frustrate, and only slow at best. But staring at someone who's become a scapegoat of sorts for things that even Fort Max can (distantly) acknowledge are only so much his fault...
He feels the anger inside him build and build, and can only do so much - will only do so much - to counter it.
no subject
Still, it was a plan.
"I can't divert vital lifelines from struggling front lines on the basis of a rumor, that's not how this works. I needed the appropriate information before I was able to help you."
He keeps his optics fixed on the enraged Autobot with the desk in his peripheral vision, waiting for Maximus to make a move.
I'm making up numbers; if canon counteracts this, we shall retcon accordingly?
"One hundred twenty-six," Fortress Maximus grated, fingers digging in to the desk hard enough to make dents. "One hundred twenty-six units to deal with nearly five hundred prisoners, not including the amount that assaulted the prison itself. Nearly half've them died in that attack," he continued, voice hardening, "while we heard about strikes all over and knew we weren't getting any reinforcements, we knew we were it, and we were ready to die for what we thought was right."
None of them wanted to, but there came a point in that battle as the lines broke when they understood that, and accepted it as best they could.
"You're telling me that we lived three years in that hell for a cause that, when they heard the prison was destroyed, didn't bother even trying to recover salvage? Didn't bother entertaining the thought that maybe there was a survivor, trying to eke it out on their own? Were we not worth a moment's second thought to you, you sparkless slagger?!" he shouts, slamming his palm down.
sure np c:
And knowing Prowl, that wasn't hyperbole. He's done the math, several times over. And he could do it again. Almost zero chance of survival. Unless something stated otherwise, the most logical choice of action was to divert resources to fronts with realistic survival odds, not lost causes.
Not that the argument helped any with regards to him lacking a spark, but it was the truth.
no subject
That's what it boils down to, when all is said and done. The simple obliviousness on Prowl's behalf, the knowledge that while they were waiting and gradually losing hope of any rescue-
Presumed destroyed.
From a logical standpoint, Fortress Maximus can understand. Truly, he can. But his emotions cannot see how the death of one group of Prowl's mechs, if it could have alerted others to the plight of Garrus, if it could have spared days, weeks, months of pain-
"You knew better," he continues, still in that hoarse, only-so-composed voice. "You knew better, we trusted you to know better and you failed us."
no subject
As much as he'd like to be...
"As I mentioned before, the unstable situation led to bad intelligence. It was all I had to go on. I don't pretend to be omnipresent or infallible, but I did what I could. I'm not Primus, Maximus, I'm no god."
He notices the shift in the ex-warden's tone. Prowl knew better than to assume once his vocalizer had gone hoarse from shouting that it would be the end, but there was always that chance. Perhaps this wouldn't need to end with action.
Not that he wasn't prepared, of course. His optics were still narrowed, just slightly, and analyzing beneath his obdurate expression.