Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or Bioshock, major and rich corporations do. I also don't even really own the idea of the cultures I used in here, they're just twisted versions of ideas others who I credited down below had come up with first.
Warnings: Weirdness is afoot, as well as blatant and liberal use of artistic license in regards to some ideas thought up by sanjuno and katsuko on livejournal, about flightless seekers. hopefully they won't kill me too much for that. Also any video game players may see the similarities between Prefect and a certain underwater city named Rapture. And yes this Phish is an AU whore.
#Symbol Legend#
'Blah'=Name spoken in cant
Blah= Speech in cant
Blah= Speech in wing cant
Blah= Word is being stressed
It claimed to be the hidden golden age when the rest of the world had plunged into the chaos of war. Tucked away that not even Prime and his little council could find it and thus remain untouched. Prefect is what they called it, oh the name of the city was some grand presumptuous thing, but to most who sought refuge there or talked about it in hushed voices on the streets of Iacon, it was just known as Prefect. A nice little way to keep the enforcers of the autobots and the shock troops of the decepticons guessing on what those transmissions meant, since they only called the place by the name the high and mighty ruler of the city called it. The leader that boasted so many idealistic promises that no mech with a sound cpu should have bought even an iota of the slick moving politician's words, but war makes people desperate, and with each new city razed to the ground and the numbers of neutrals declining rapidly…desperation took hold of any common sense programming and smothered it.
So they flocked to the secret little places to prove they should be taken in, like lost turbo fox pups hiding from the Tower mechs that hunted them for sport. The ones who didn't meet the standards of that leader were taken someplace else to hide from the war. A pity present, while those that caught the optics of the ones in that mech's circle were whisked away and never heard from again by those left behind. The dwindling numbers blamed by each faction on the other until even the reasons to take up arms blurred and faded away until it was the only thing anyone knew.
To those that were not hidden away in Prefect, that is.
Prefect flourished to those who gained the favor of the ones in power. The ones who skulked about the darker areas of the hidden city only taking comfort in that they were not out dying for a war that made less sense each vorn that passed. The city of no restraints or morality codes that stifled the rest of society, allowing those who modified and experimented free reign to do as they wish regardless of how amoral it was to their test subjects. Discoveries made and progress moving in leaps and bounds for all to prosper from…if you had the right amount of credits. On the surface, the Golden age revisited and made better, while underneath the decay and destruction from the real horrors of this society began to eat away at sanity and the very foundation of Prefect.
And, as the organics say, like rats sensing a sinking ship, mechs and femmes started to attempt getting out…Easier said then done. Though some did find ways out, at least that was the tenacious hope others held onto as minibots and younglings went into the pipes. Pipes where the glorious leader and most other mechs couldn't get through because of size, but did not dare bar from all in fear, of the pipes that help keep the city alive would clog up irreversibly, if none went in to clean them now and again. Their Leader just made certain once in a while to order an acid bath for a section of piping if too many were wanting to clean it, which made it unusable for several megacycles. That one bit of weakness in the tightly held control of every aspect of the city, even if most of the upper echelon with their vapid cpus and docile following of the Leader believed his words of being completely free like a Seeker in the sky. If any of those air heads knew or remembered what a Seeker was to begin with was up for debate, since none that flew were able to withstand this city hidden so deeply under the ground of this distant and organic planet. Oh, in the beginning there were probably a few neutral flyers but never being allowed to leave the city for theirs and everyone's supposed safety, probably made them go mad. If the greedy little butchers that pretended to be scientists hadn't gotten to them first.
I wouldn't be surprised in the least, when I consider some of the little sparklings that skitter about in the shadows of the slums down here. Always looking up towards that cavernous ceiling stringed with lights and wearing such an odd look of longing, when their glitches or other problems didn't act up.
Yeah, a city free of all inhibitions, even that of basic decency if you went and got yourself with sparkling. It would probably even make that supposedly brutal faction of the war stop and just have a processor meltdown at the callous treatment of new life. Considering the few rumors I've heard being that both sides would probably die of shock if there were to see a sparkling again. It almost makes me care enough to try getting a message out and seeing what would happen. If either side would believe my tale and if they could drop their precious war long enough to come down here.
That involves having hope, and hope doesn't come cheaply down here.
'He who dances like a knife' had warned him about a lot of things, down here where the bright lights didn't quite reach, and the drip of rust creating water was everywhere. Warned him of the overly clean and shiny mechs with no color on their white panels, that came down and snatched up anyone who wasn't quick enough and took them to the places that smelled of sterilizers and rusting shells. About the odd creatures that were metal and organic matter and how to never draw a weapon near them or touch the little all black sparklings that trailed after them. 'Dances like a knife' had raised him to survive down here, when others would have ignored or used him for spare parts so he had followed everything he had been told. Especially about how to never trust those that could not speak like them, the ones that used words that were so simple and flat that they had to make up more words to say something that he and 'dances like a knife' could say with just a tilt of helm and burst of throttle. Those ones liked to ask stupid questions that their words couldn't ever answer right. They didn't understand why those like him and 'dances like a knife' always looked for others that fit them, or why they needed to live in sets of three to feel complete. Why they looked up at the ceiling of this place and yearned for something past it that tasted and felt like freedom and happiness but had no word for it amongst the odd ones who used their voices for words and not emotions.
Those ones could never understand what they themselves barely understood as well, so as a rule they just never went near them and distrust was the first reaction to any who tried to be friendly. It had kept him alive, even after 'dances like a knife' had finally lain down and went grey as the stone walls surrounding the city. Even when it made his spark ache that he had to fight the need to keen the sorrow to the twinkling lights above him, because he was alone, well and truly, as all the others like him just felt wrong and didn't want to add him to their groups. But he was used to watching his own back when 'dances like a knife' couldn't go places he could to look for things to fix and sell. The slanted and swaying rooftops were his and his alone to roam as none of the others of his kind were small or agile enough to leap from one to another and walk across the metal and wooden beams, like one would on the tightly packed dirt ground.
And after a while even the loss of the only member of his group/family/safety/love had faded and he didn't mind anymore being alone. Ignoring the pangs of want/jealousy/need when he saw others in groups of three or more curled up together to recharge or moving about the streets, content despite everything. Living and surviving just the way he had when the large frame of 'dances like a knife' had been there for him.
Until the little one had wandered by.
Little ones were common down here, only becoming rare when the ones who were all white showed up and managed to grab a lot of them since not many down here took them in. Part of him always wanted to fight back when he saw them grabbing a little one roughly, but 'dances like a knife' had always told him to be still even as his command was thrumming with rage as well. They were no match for the ones of white when they began collecting and they wouldn't be any good to the little ones that escaped if they got caught. They had always helped the little ones when they could, but never really took them as they always felt wrong. Most only able to speak in those words and never looked up like they did. This one though, he felt right and he couldn't ignore it even as the little one shied away at first.
He wasn't used to those who ran away, and would normally ignore them when they did, but he kept following that one until finally, finally a cautious hand was given. The position and purr giving greeting and question quicker then the words could ever hope to be.
Safe?/Who?/Want?/One like me
It had been a long time since another had talked to him like this, but even with that and the feeling he didn't answer right away. A name, the little one wanted a name and he was afraid a bit that they wouldn't fit. Because names meant so much to them because no name was the same even if they seemed so in words.
Protect/Promise/One who defies the void/ Feel/Right?/Flock?
It was out and then it was just…there and they were one and the same of group/family/love.
Happiness/Wonder/That who warns of darkness/Right/Flock/Want me?
Then that empty place that had throbbed and keened since 'dance like a knife' had offlined stopped hurting as much as it took this little one in. The sound of his name floating around in that space as if it had always been there, just like 'dance like a knife' had done before. And with it a feeling and instinct that made his optics sharper and movements quicker as he knew the little one had to be protected by him. Though, others, especially the word users, seemed to laugh at this since the little one was almost as big as him and he barely reached the hip joints of most that lived here as well. That didn't matter though because that made the bigger ones fall that much harder and faster when he took them down. Always seeming surprised when he was suddenly in the air, above their heads, right before his gun was used and they saw no more. The nastier of those like them forgetting that this is what his name meant as he defied the void, the space between him and the harsh ground when he took off; whether it be from rooftop to rooftop or just tempting Primus and his will when he took on bigger mechs then himself. Just in the same way his little one always knew who to sell to, who to not turn your back on, and if a place was safe to rest in.
He was content with life.
Yes he still felt the pull to find/trine/love, but it was easily kept at bay as he watched out for the little one, even when the little one upgraded and was not so little anymore. Oh his little one was smaller then many of the large mechs, but he still had to look up to meet the little one's optics. That wasn't a problem though because it wasn't the size that made the little one a little one, no it was the need of him that kept it as such. That pull of find/trine/love had not settled into 'warns of darkness', who still followed his orders exactly when told. They were hardly much as only two, but it was better then being alone, no matter what some of the other flocks said when they watched them from their larger flocks.
Until the look alikes showed up and somehow started following them around.
The two look alikes were older then them, which was odd itself as look alikes never upgraded that far before offlining. They even talked funny, not like them, but not like the word speakers either. Just something odd and quiet compared to their engine bursts and crackling energy as they used the swish of air and position of the funny door panels on their backs. It was odd but still right, and 'dances like a knife' had never warned against those types, which made him let them follow as they also joined in with the same feelings when looking up. Though to them it was freedom/happiness/thrill while the look alikes called it home/dance/defiance/exhilaration and both never figured out if the word speakers had a bland noise for it. It made them same in that and soon they became flock, and 'defies the void' saw that the look alikes were not the same as the other look alikes that wandered about. They had names and acted differently, their abilities similar but still different, and though they clung to each other like the other look alikes they didn't need to do so, but chose to do so.
He did however get them to not be as much alike when he found out 'That which is unseen and still' could change his colors to that of black shadows and white stone, keeping the v sensor the same red as some optics that his look alike 'That which is untouchable and gone', had on some of his armor. That made it even better and right as a flock. For flocks were not meant to be the same, but unique so that all had a special place within to be useful when the time came. Like when finally the areas that had the bright lights touching them and was free of the rust causing water went dark and the clean pretty streets of white stone turned pink and grey from energon and ash. The talk of getting out to whatever was past the grey stone and brown mud circulating fast amongst all, and he finally decided it was time to look for what they all yearned for.
He gathered them up and somehow knew what they would need and what should be left, and marched them all out and into a pipe that could fit even the large look alikes. Though that might have been because 'untouchable and gone' lived up to his name and made him and 'warns of darkness' see through and solid as the vapor mist from the steam vents, while 'unseen and still' would melt into the black shadows and meet them at the next point of light. Moving up and up until when even he was not certain they'd make it, and then they saw it; a black ceiling with twinkling lights again. Only this ceiling did not make them feel caged and yearning, but made them all sing in joy. That ceiling was freedom/happiness/thrill/home/dance/defiance/exhilaration and that was all that matter for a long time for them as they explored this place above their old home.
There they learned to finally use words and learned from the one that found them after the bright light (sun the word user called it) had come and gone from the (sky) several times. The bright red face on his chest and friendliness that even 'warns of darkness' had accepted making them use the words more to let this new person in. Not flock but he was friend.
"Well, you younglings will like Cybertron I think even if Ratchet may make you think otherwise, but he's a good mech and he tends to yell at you if he likes you, and he's always attentive to his patients. Though, do you have designations? Hate to give you one if you do."
That word had them confused for a moment, but 'unseen and still' was always quick to learn words and figured it out as he pointed to himself and then 'untouchable and gone' speaking slowly at first, because it was always so hard to say such important things in words.
"Prowl, and this is Smokescreen."
He didn't like the way their names sounded in words, but the one who found them didn't understand either the quiet flicks and swish of the look alikes or the crackle and thrum of him and 'warns of darkness' so he could live with word names for his flock to be safe with this not flock friend.
"Designation is Cliffjumper and the silent one over there is Red Alert. So what's this about a war?"