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
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.