were-cars eleven

[dragonofdispair]

summary: 2007 movieverse. mostly pre-earth: some archetypes are universal. some legends transcend species. and sometimes there's nothing left to do but out race the moons.

disclaimer: names, places and concepts that are recognizable aren't mine. since i shamelessly raided a list of mini-cons from armada for names, i don't even own the oc's. i do own the plot, though.

warnings: battle violence. cussing. lots of weirdness. eventual male pronoun robot / male pronoun robot romance.



Were-Cars of Cybertron: part eleven

There was nothing else that could be done tonight. Prowl stopped by the station just long enough to check in with Red Alert and log himself off duty for the night before going to his temporary quarters and starting his recharge cycle. Red Alert said he was going to stay the night, that his systems could forgo recharge for a day if he kept his energon levels up.

Red Alert had hardwired himself to the console the night before and was still there when Prowl returned in the morning. Hardwiring yourself to a computer was considered difficult, unpleasant and dangerous by most mechs, but when Prowl had brought that up to Red Alert, he'd scoffed, saying he was designed for data analysis and there was nothing on his own console he didn't put there. And it was a much faster method to organize such things as sector by sector searches when there was someone acting as an information hub.

When Prowl walked up to their desk, the other officer briskly reported that, no, the two were-tanks had not been found by any of the searchers. They were starting with the places on Brawl's maps, but there was no way to know if some of the maps were missing. Red Alert direly predicted that there were ones missing and they'd have to search the entire wilderness. Holograms flickered above the desk -- correlating Brawl's maps with those from the sky spies, scans, darkened areas of a larger map showing places that had already been searched, text from the reports of the actual searchers, orders to search new areas. The display of information was dizzying to Prowl, and that was only what was showing as holograms. He didn't want to think about what would be going on inside the mech's processor.

Prowl didn't bother him and busied himself with going through the files on known were-motorcycles and arranging the names according to the team divisions he'd seen last night. Anyone in Wreck-Gar's team wouldn't give him a strait answer, but now that the team leaders knew him, he could press the others for information. Sideways, especially, had looked angry when Wreck-Gar had told Prowl to go away.

It wasn't until he found himself reading Backtrack's journal for the third time -- for mentions of the other tank and the activities of the Iacon track -- that he realized he was waiting for Rhythm. He frowned. True, they had never established a specific time for him to come, but Prowl would have thought he would be here by now.

With a trill of fear, he hoped Rhythm's lateness had nothing to do with the confrontation he'd had with the track First.

He tried to dismiss that thought and found he couldn't -- it was after all possible that whatever had prompted the confrontation had the First mad at Rhythm, or that he would take any anger at Prowl's refusal to submit out on the lower ranked car. He'd never had this problem in Praxis with Motormaster -- Prowl and the Praxan First knew where they stood with each other. Prowl had no reason to worry over Motormaster's subordinates and if Motormaster had a problem with Prowl, he came after the officer directly -- which usually got him thrown in a cell for assaulting an officer, but the interaction worked.

Worried, he didn't notice his sensory panels twitching as he made various lists, but Red Alert did. "What the frag is your problem?"

Slightly surprised the mech could focus on something other than the flows of data, Prowl didn't censor the agitation from his voice. "Rhythm should have been here by now."

Red Alert huffed. "The mech is aggravating -- you're just now noticing."

The black and white didn't bother correcting the other, just handed over one of his lists, this one with the names of several mechs -- three of Sideways' team which were on file including Sideways himself, Perceptor, and three were-cars. "Barring unforeseen circumstance, these are the mechs I need to interview today."

Implied was the question of whether Red Alert was coming or not.

The red and white shook his head in negation. "One of us needs to be here if Brawl and Backtrack are found and I'm the best coordinator," he gestured to where the networking cable attached his wrist to his console, "in the department."

Prowl could believe that.

888

He decided to see Perceptor first.

He told himself it was because the two scientists would be expecting him and he didn't want to cause them undue stress by making them wait. Not because they were Rhythm's friends and might have an idea of where he was. Or because, after being unable to come up with a reason other than the confrontation with the First for Rhythm's absence, he didn't trust his temper with the cars.

Prowl used the doorchime on the lab door rather than knocking.

Skyfire answered. "Prowl," he greeted, then looked up and down the corridor, looking surprised, "Where's Rhythm?"

"I don't know," he didn't let Skyfire see his disappointment, "I was hoping to speak with Perceptor."

"Of course."

The lab was much the same as it had been yesterday, with the exception that the second desk was occupied by a reddish mech inputing data into the desk's computer.

He hadn't thought it likely, but had been prepared to consider the possibility that Perceptor had been using his usual habit as a shield under which to stir up trouble, either as the killer or Backtrack and Brawl's harasser and they simply hadn't recognized him. That notion was dismissed as soon as he saw the scientist -- Perceptor was much too small a mech to fit Backtrack's description or kill in the manner the victims had been. He was in fact the size of a medium sized car, which was much too small to even be a were-tank, according to what Prowl knew.

But he knew the scientist couldn't be a were-car -- Motormaster would never have allowed a foreign car into Praxis.

"Perceptor," Skyfire called out when the red scientist didn't look up after a few minutes, "Prowl wants to talk to you."

Blue optics shuttered several times, then, "Certainly! Simply allow a moment to finish imputing this and I will be at your disposal, officer."

"I'll just take my break now, then." -- Skyfire, who then left.

Finishing his data input took less than a moment. Perceptor seemed eager to talk to Prowl. "Done! What can I help you with?"

"I simply need to know what you were doing on these nights," as with the motorcycle'shifters, he rattled off the dates of the murders.

"Recharging," was the prompt answer, then he looked embarrassed and continued, "mostly. I also drove in circles in my quarters when I was feeling too restless to shut down -- but not out-of-doors! I ..." he paused. "I get mistaken for a car, and that just causes trouble. I apologize. I don't know how I could verify that for you... it's not a very convincing alibi, is it?"

"It is acceptable."

"That is to say, when all you knew about me was that I was a were-tank, I was a possible, though, one hopes, not likely, suspect. However, now that you are here, you've decided I'm incapable of whatever method used to kill the victims due to my ... less than impressive stature."

Prowl rather hoped he would have been able to put it less bluntly, but, "Essentially. If I may ask, how...?" he trailed off.

"Hmmm ... why this is, is perhaps one of the few mysteries of my own existence that continue to elude me. I assume you know there's a size requirement for one to be susceptible to the tank specific strain of the programming virus that is most often responsible for shapeshifters." Prowl nodded and Perceptor brought one of his hands to show. Prowl noticed that the scientist had short, subtle claws, though certainly wasn't showing any other signs of his nature -- a created shapeshifter. "My builder certainly didn't want to create a shapeshifter, but the Allspark granted him a shapeshifter's spark among the others of my creche -- one that was apparently determined to be a were-tank, regardless of the shell it ended up in."

"I see." That was fascinating. Prowl had never heard of that happening before. True, the Allspark occasionally granted sparks that became a shapeshifters. Everyone knew that. But he'd thought that in those cases, the shapeshifter type was determined without fail by the tech specs of the shell. That was -- later. He still had a question for Perceptor and plenty of ground to cover today. "How well acquainted are you with the other two were-tanks?"

"Passably." He tapped his fingers on the side of the desk. "I know that Brawl works in the construction sector and Backtrack makes sculpture for the public gardens. Beyond that ... honestly, I found them rather dull to speak to. They aren't victims, are they?"

Prowl shook his head. "Right now we are trying to find them both."

"I don't believe I can help you there." No he couldn't -- the attempt had been a long shot at best. Except in the cases of a mated or bonded pairs, were-tanks were solitary.

"Thank you for your time." Perceptor returned the salutation and Prowl had reached out to open the door, then stopped. He had to ask. "Do you know where Rhythm might be today?"

"Skyfire did say he was helping you -- he hasn't contacted you? No," he answered his own question, "if he had, you would not have asked. In all probability he is tied up with his duties with the Track. He does take his duties seriously."

"Thank you."

Thoughts somewhat dark, Prowl left the lab.

tbc