FIC: Dai Atlas

[wicked3659]

Title: Dai Atlas 
Verse: TFA Inamorato
Authors: niyazi_a and wicked3659
Warnings: None
Characters: Sentinel Prime, Prowl, Wing, Dai Atlas
Rating: PG 
Summary: Dai Atlas graces Inamorato for the first time to find none other than Yoketron's final and failed student, right where he expected him to be. 

Another chapter of the Inamorato verse created by toyzintheattik, niyazi_a and myself.

Dai Atlas frowned, even as he sank into the plush—decadent, he internally corrected—cushions. Sentinel was up to something.  And it didn’t take much to figure out what.  His glower didn’t manage to wither the beaming grin on Sentinel’s face, doubtless a victorious smirk.  “I question, utterly, your taste,” Dai Atlas said.

“I like it,” Sentinel said.  “Classy décor. And besides, surely we’ve earned a little, you know, indulgence.”

“I did not fight the war for the right to enrich brothels,” Dai Atlas said, optics scouring the room of the bar. Repugnant mass of color and noise, crawling with vice.

“Hi! What can I get you?” A perky voice, matched by a perkier white and red frame. Dai Atlas saw the namebadge announce this one as ‘Wing’, and the gold optics of a Neutral. His mouth twitched.

“Rust crisps,” Sentinel said, without looking at the menu, a smooth indication that he’d been here before, often. “And a Kolkular Sweet. Your finest vintage,” he said, airily, waving one hand.

Wing nodded. “Excellent choice, sir.” The gold optics turned to Dai Atlas.

His optics narrowed with disdain. He’d seen this kind a thousand times, during the war. Amoral, eternally cheerful. Most likely, he thought, on drugs. “A Metrotitan, iced, and stirred, gently.”  When the jet nodded, cheerful smile in place, he added, “I am quite particular about this drink.”

A deeper nod, the smile shifting to a serious expression. “Our bartender is quite experienced, sir.  I’m sure you will find it to your standards.”

“I do not share your certainty,” he said, frostily.

The smile perked a bit at the corners, a bit weaker, as though hammered a bit flat.  “He shall definitely do his best.”

[***]

Wing hoped he turned his back before the guests could see the furrow between his optics.  Prowl had never messed up a drink order. He was Wing’s favorite bartender to work with: fast, efficient, and meticulous, and more than that, kind. He had faith. But still, the stranger’s attitude stung.

He tapped the order in to the kitchen, for the rust crisps, before heading to the bar. He handed over the drink order, hesitating.

“Something wrong?”  Prowl looked over the order, moving smoothly to get the right glasses.

“No. It’s silly.”

Prowl’s silence was its own question, and Wing murmured, unhappily, “The Metrotitan. The customer says he is very particular. I do not like why he has already decided to mistrust us.”

Prowl glanced past Wing to pinpoint which particular customer Wing was referring to. “Dai Atlas….” He murmured lowly, his grip tightening slightly on the elegant glassware.

“You know him then?” Wing perked up, his smile returning.

Looking back to the other mech, Prowl gave a single shake of his helm. “Not personally, no.” Then with the faintest of smiles for Wing; “I’m sure it wasn’t personal. It is in the nature of those who don’t understand things or people at first glance, to judge.” Gathering up the ingredients for the two drinks, Prowl handed Wing the Kolkular vintage high grade with a reassuring nod. “You can make the Kolkular sweet with ease now. I’ll make the Metrotitan. It happens to be a favourite of a good friend of mine.”

Wing nodded and his smile widened as he watched Prowl get to work on the more complex concoction before getting busy with Sentinel’s order. “Where do you know that Dai Atlas from?” he asked, carefully measuring the sweetening additive.

Prowl didn’t immediately respond, his faceplates creased as he focused on the pouring of the effervescent drink. “It’s all a matter of history.” He replied after a few kliks. “And who writes it.”

Wing tilted his head. “Is he a ninjabot like you too?” His curiosity for the mystery that was the ninja corps got the better of him. So much to learn and what he’d heard about the ninjas was intriguing. They seemed kind of like the Circle, another ancient tradition almost lost by the war.

Placing the finished chilled drink beside Sentinel’s with a small twitch of his mouth in satisfaction, Prowl cast the customer a subtle sharp look at Wing’s question, his expression unreadable before turning back to the bar, busying himself with mixing various other cocktails for their growing number of customers, his back to Wing as he replied softly. “He is nothing like me.”

Wing hesitated, hands curling around the tray, trying to measure if he would be intruding if he asked further.  Prowl was a private mech, and even this much seemed like an admission. But he decided not to press: it was honor enough Prowl revealed that much. He nodded to himself, murmuring a thanks, and headed back to the table.

Sentinel frowned, catching a flash of white in the corner of his optics. “I’m just trying to get you to see reason, Dai Atlas. The Guard needs the skills of the Dojo.”

“Here you go!”  Wing chirped, placing the beverages down on the table with an easy grace, and then a platter with an extra-large order of rust crisps fanned across it. “One glass of sweet Kolkular, a pre-war vintage, and one Metrotitan, perfectly chilled.”  Prowl had even compensated for the temperature change in the beverage between the bar and the table.

Dai Atlas frowned, squinting at the beverage, his nasal plating wrinkling.  Yoketron’s failed apprentice. What a base employment. Serving intoxicants to degenerates. Yoketron would be appalled.  Then again, perhaps not. Yoketron always had been soft with his apprentices: a mistake Dai Atlas was certain he would not make with Drift.  Drift knew how much he owed to Dai Atlas. A shame Prowl had forgotten.

“The color,” he said, carefully, “is off.”

Wing frowned, picking up the glass. “Yes, sir.”  The customer is always right. Unless Security gets involved. That’s what Arcee had explained to him: customer is always right. “I shall tell him.”
He frowned, placing the drink on the counter. “He says it is the incorrect color.”

The sharp visor appeared over the edge of the ninjabot’s fin, his mouth twisted into an expression altogether ugly on his face. “Did he state what was wrong with the colour?” Prowl asked quietly, turning to face Wing on the other side of the counter.

Wing shook his helm and shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t ask, I’m sorry.”

Before Prowl could respond Arcee appeared from the back office, heading with a purpose to the bar. “Wing, darling… Chromia is otherwise engaged tonight,” the moue on her face told her she was not pleased with this sudden absence, “would you be a dear and take the stage for me tonight?” She smiled, then turned to Prowl. “You’re not too busy are you, Prowl?”

Wing looked between her and Prowl for a moment, hesitating. “I don –“

“—It’s fine.” Prowl interrupted curtly. “He was just finished serving.”

Arcee gave Prowl a searching look, before smiling back at Wing. “Well you heard him; let’s get you polished up. I want this pretty plating of yours to be sparkling.”

Wing allowed himself to be led away by his employer, not before glancing back at Prowl contritely.

Prowl let them go without another word, his focus on the drink in front of him. There was no way, Dai Atlas hadn’t seen him working and no way that the mech didn’t recognise him. Prowl had heard the rumours of this Dai Atlas rebuilding a dojo. Not just any dojo. Yoketron’s dojo, the place that had been his home for vorns. His dojo. The stories he’d heard surrounding this mech made him seem respectable enough but what Prowl had learned directly from Yoketron himself allowed him to see past the façade. Dai Atlas was a respected soldier and guardsmech. A war hero. A former student of Yoketron’s but as far as Prowl was concerned he was no ninjabot. One needed honour and humility for that. Not to mention a respect for others.

Inhaling deeply, he picked up the drink and chilled it once more, this time for a few kliks longer, until the deep shade of blue faded to an icy azure. Flipping his rag onto the counter, Prowl headed over to the table where Dai and Sentinel were deep in some serious conversation.

Upon spying the familiar black and gold of Prowl’s plating, Sentinel looked up quickly before dropping his gaze instantly to the table and swallowing a few large mouthfuls of his drink. He hadn’t been able to look the ninjabot in the optic since that night he had inadvertently got himself high and fragged in a prank against Lockdown that had massively backfired.

“Your drink.” Prowl stated, eyeing Dai Atlas coolly as he placed it in front of him, his optics never leaving the mech’s face daring him to return it a second time.

Dai Atlas smirked and his optics looked the black and gold ninja up and down slowly, obviously, stopping on the slip of material tied around Prowl’s slim waist. “My, how the favourites have fallen,” he uttered as Prowl turned to leave.

Sentinel’s optics flickered as Prowl turned back around and glared at Dai Atlas coldly. “Um, Dai Atlas, just accept the drink, alright. You can’t expect quality from a space bridge repair ‘bot.” He snorted, avoiding Prowl’s optics by raising his drink to his mouth.

“Mm, Yoketron would be disappointed.” Dai Atlas continued smoothly, ignoring Sentinel beside him, his optics holding Prowl’s glare blandly. “Then again, he did drag you out of the gutter, didn’t he? Perhaps he would not be surprised as to where you’ve ended up.”

Prowl appeared unfazed as he replied softly, “This coming from the mech Master Yoketron, I believe was quoted to refer to as ‘one who is incapable of seeing past his own ego.’” His mouth curved upwards into the smallest of smiles. “You would know all about Master Yoketron’s, disappointments now, wouldn’t you, Dai Atlas?”

The larger mech stiffened before his face broke into an insincere smile and he took a long sip of his cocktail. “Mm, palatable. Well, at least you are not without some skill.” He gave a wicked smirk, his optics flashing with challenge at the ninjabot. “Maybe you’d like to come and demonstrate them at the opening ceremony of my dojo this coming cycle? I’m sure Master Yoketron would be proud to see his former students reunited under the roof in which he taught them.” Dai Atlas let his smile spread as his sharp optics picked up the faintest uncertain flicker of Prowl’s striking visor and decided to twist the knife in the wound he’d so clearly just opened. “I’m sure they would be very complimentary of your… bartending prowess.”

Gritting his dentae, Prowl balled his fists tightly. “You have no place in that dojo.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find I have pride of place in old Yoketron’s dojo.” Dai positively purred out the words, relishing the tension radiating from the Yoketron’s final, failed student. “I at least completed all my training. Tell me, Prowl,” he canted his helm to the side, feigning curiosity in the ninjabot. “Have you completed anything your whole life?”

Sentinel snorted in amusement. “Are you kidding? He can’t even die properly.” He put his drink down heavily, already having consumed half of it. “Not that I wanted it mind you,” he added hastily, “but you know talk about doing something half-aft.” He chuckled to himself, nudging Dai as though sharing his joke. “Tried it on for size twice and still didn’t get it right.” He laughed into his drink, not catching the interest brightening Dai’s optics as he glanced back at Prowl.

“Is that so?” He smiled at Prowl, a smile devoid of warmth and sincerity, the sort Prowl had heard referred to on Earth as a crocodile’s smile. “You’ll have to tell me more about this, Sentinel. It can only serve to enrich my current knowledge on my fellow ninja.”

“You know nothing about me.” Prowl replied tersely, biting back his rising anger at Dai Atlas’s arrogant audacity to lay claim on something he’d walked away from.

“I know everything Yoketron knew about you though,” he called after the retreating black and gold mech, relishing the glare he received, he raised his glass up to Prowl in a sign of acknowledgement, as the slight mech vanished into the staff only area visibly irate. Dai Atlas was certain he hadn’t seen or heard the last from Prowl. In fact, he sincerely hoped not.

For him the game had only just begun.

Comments

[eerian_sadow]

dude, Dai Atlas is a dick. i think Prowl is going to have his hands full with this guy. :/

also, way to be sensitive, Sentinel. *facepalm*

Wing is too adorable here! i really want to see him interact more with Prowl; i think they'll get along beautifully.

[wicked3659.livejournal.com]

Yes, in this he really is >:) Prowl hasn't seen the last of him.
Sentinel is all in the foot in mouth club today ^_^;;
I'm hoping Wing and Prowl interact more too :3

Thanks for reading!

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

It is likely tacky to comment on a fic I co-wrote. BUT OH WELL.

I love your Prowl and the way you wrote Prowl and Dai Atlas together was just awesome to read. And I'm so happy we're writing together again! :D

[wicked3659.livejournal.com]

ME TOOO!! :DDD

I adore your Wing and you set up Dai so brilliantly for me, I hope we write another soon ^_^ I'd love to do one including Drift too.

*excited bounce* :3

[toyzintheattik.livejournal.com]

Prowl's self control is admirable. I would have splashed that damned drink all over Dai's face!

I second Eerian on the Prowl/Wing interactions. Those to got some positive co-worker chemistry.

Itching for more, as always. ^^