The Diego Diaries: Crime (dd6 205)
-0-On the way to the Slammer
"HEY!"
He heard a dull echo of his voice as he stood in the semi darkness of Drift's carry hold. The idea that he was inside a 25 foot tall alien robot heading to who the hell knew where was terrifying. It was also infuriating. He didn't have his helmet, so if the box malfunctioned he'd be dead. That dread sat in his stomach like a rock. Looking all around, it was dark but not completely. There was a weird ambient light that sort of hovered around the ground. He knew that they could turn it way up because he'd seen mechs and femmes stow their kids inside brightly lit spaces.
The sound he made echoed dully, like sound in a space that had been dampened. Hollow. That's what it sounded like. It wasn't cold nor was it overly warm. He knew they could moderate that because they did for their kids. His cage filled the space nearly completely. Motion was almost none existent. He was sure they were moving but they could manage the motion he experienced, good intell, he thought. He wondered if they were actually going somewhere, it was so still. Dark, muffled, still. He had no idea where he was but there would be no humans there when he arrived. He was totally at the mercy of the bots. He couldn't call a human if he tried. There was no helmet to utilize for that. He was totally alone.
-0-Topside
They rode together cantering along the highway as the odd vehicle passed them. They were heading toward the Metro Districts miles away, their beauty and light growing closer and brighter every passing mile. As they reached the more inhabited places, the traffic picked up. Drift glanced at Springer, admiring his handsome profile. The big lanky bot was his true and only one. How that had happened, he didn't know. He just knew that they met in an empty corridor that late evening, glared at each other a moment, then jumped into a cul de sac, and the rest was history. They had been walking around each other and a weird attraction masked in mutual disgust for a few orns before that, so the chemistry had finally taken over. "How do you think this is going to turn out?"
"However Prime wants it," Springer said. "It was only a matter of time." He glanced at Drift with a grin. "Don't tell anyone but I'm glad the mercs are here. We missed them the first time, mostly, and I like the idea of slapping them around here."
Drift grinned. "You always were a contrarian. You get that from Mom."
Springer laughed aloud, then nodded. "I think so. I get my winsome ways, however, from Dad."
"I can see that," Drift said as they reached the junction that led through Metro District #3 or turned left to go to the Industrial Park Cities and the Crater District. Waiting there on horse back, a number of patrol mechs who had heard about the squeal were gathered to hear the straight stuff. They slowed to a halt, then grinned. "Guess what I have in my hold?"
"Pie?" Kup asked as he chawed on his cygar. "I'm hoping its pie."
Morius and Inweld who were riding along just because, grinned. Partition who was there as well because Lancer wanted to ride with Kup and Hercy, grinned at the two. They were as gods to him, the group of elder mechs who were poised, incredibly knowledgeable and deeply, deeply hilarious. "What do you have?" he asked as Lancer smirked, knowing full well it could be anything.
"Well, I have James 'Big Jim' Johnson, my friends, right here in River City," Drift said as he mentioned a line from a movie he had accidentally saw and loved, "76 Trombones'. "It starts with 'J' and rhymes with Ray but you can call him dummy."
After the references were checked, huge laughter broke out. Horses stamped their feet as they waited, most of them preferring to run wide open on the straights to the Industrial Parks and the round about route around the outlying human habitations. They made routes that way day and night, something that the humans looked forward to seeing.
"We better get him into his gerbil cage, then," Hercy said with a smirk. "Can't have old Big Jim leak inside your hold."
Drift's smirk faded as everyone snickered. "Slaggers," he said as he tapped his horse's flanks. "Come on, Rondo. The night isn't getting any younger." The big black horse stepped forward breaking into a loping gallop toward town.
The others watched him go, then glanced at each other. "I think he's in a hurry to dump his load."
Springer laughed loudly. "As long as its him and not Big Jim," he said as he tapped his horse's sides. He headed out and the others followed, making their way into the cities and out again as they headed for Cultural Center Road and the colonial jail.
-0-Prime
"You did not put me on the call, Prowl," he said with a smirk as he sat in his chair.
Prowl walked over to sit in his chair, picking up his beer and plate of snacks. "You're too good for the tawdry stuff. That's my job."
Prime grinned as he sipped his own beer. "Is that so,"
Prowl nodded as they waited for the Community Bulletin Board to roll by and the news to return. "You have no idea. Try being a cop during the Clampdown. I do recall bulletins rolling in to arrest you."
"Did you ever attempt to do so?" Optimus asked curiously.
"No. I had other things to do besides suppressing free speech and our last best hope," Prowl said. "Mind you, Only One … I was a slow learner. I respected you before I loved you."
"Is that so," Optimus Prime said with a grin.
Prowl nodded. "Yes. Unfortunately."
It was quiet a moment as the club schedule usually announced was noted to be suspended for one more orn for the holidays. Prime glanced at Prowl with his beautiful profile, incredible intelligence and soulfulness. "It was the opposite with me."
Prowl glanced at him sharply, then felt the melty edges of his psyche kick in. "You respected me later?"
"No," Optimus admitted. "I loved you first. I respected you two breems later."
Prowl laughed. "Well …" He grinned. "What a pair we were."
Optimus nodded. "We were," he said. The show came back on as the news of the colony rolled by including a lot of interviews with various passersby on the street about the human holiday. The consensus opinion was that Thanksgiving was wonderful. Life was good. It was nice at long last to feel safe and have a shot at your dreams. It was all that Optimus Prime and Prowl of Praxus could hope to hear.
-0-In the Bosom of Love
"Well, isn't that special," Ratchet said. "Prowl sent me a bulletin that Big Jim Johnson, the mercenary-now employee of Earth2 just got arrested."
"What for?" Ironhide asked as he sat in his chair balancing a plate of snacks on the arm of it. The family cat, Cousin, was curled up on his lap napping with the perfect expressive repose of the feline god persuasion on his snow white face. His delighted 'owner', Fireball was at his appa and ammas' house having another meal and chat fest with the big frames who were there in pretender gear to celebrate their own brand of thankfulness. Cousin had found a new lap to lounge on and was muy contento.
"He was fighting. He got into a tussle with a micro mini who works there, followed him into the ops center, got into a fist fight with Lennox, was arrested, given to Drift and Springer, and is on the way to the jailhouse. Now." Ratchet grinned. He liked that old song, 'He's in the Jailhouse Now'. It fit.
"We miss all the good ones," Ironhide said. "Court tomorrow?"
Ratchet nodded. "We have to be there, or at least, I do. Interplanetary diplomacy and all that. I wondered when this would happen. He trespassed on Autobot soil when he went up to the command center."
"Which mini-con?" Ironhide asked as he thought through the mechs who worked there, some of them in the main building with the humans, almost all of which adored the little slaggers.
"Tika," Ratchet said.
"That little bot, the one that's what color?" Ironhide asked. "Yellow? Why would Johnson get into a fight with him, the fragger? Other than he's a fragger, that is."
"I think he was drunk, got jostled, then went after the little mech," Ratchet said. "You need to go over there and have a chat with the on-floor staff in front of everyone. Tell them their rights so the humans can hear, listen to their complaints, show your aft. That sort of thing."
"It's a pretty fine aft," Ironhide said with a grin. "It might start something you can't finish, old mech."
"Frag that," Ratchet said as he appraised Ironhide coolly. "That aft is mine."
Ironhide grinned. "I will. Maybe I'll take someone along. Maybe someone with a nice aft, too."
"Take the twins," Ratchet said. "Nice aft, lots of menace, should do the trick."
"Sounds good," Ironhide said. "Best run it against Prime. He's Prime, after all. No one does it better."
Ratchet grinned as he watched Ironhide chat off line, then the big mech glanced at him. "All's copacetic. I let the twins know, too."
"Good. I want video," Ratchet said.
"So does Prime," Ironhide said with a chuckle.
The monster truck rally came back on so they turned up the sound. They turned it up just high enough to hear without waking anyone important up.
Such as Cousin.
-0-At the Autobot City Courthouse, Cultural Center Road, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire
They rode to the hitching rack at the packing lot near the entrance and dismounted, hitching the horses who stood with great patience and stoicism like horses do in all dimensions. Walking to the intake entrance, they watched as a paddy wagon pulled out, heading for their roving patrol around the colony. Light streamed out the big open doors as inside they could see officers doing their duty or hanging around waiting for more goofballs to arrive.
Walking inside, they chatted and slapped palms with the usual night shift, then walked to the intake desk where a new mech was running the show. He was a sargent from Station #37 in Pax who was filling in for someone with a big family and a bigger celebration. "Hi, Pycee. How's the rate of intake?"
"Steady," Pycee said with a grin. "There's a lot of hootch being imbibed. We have a few ripping drunks. No mini-cons yet but the night is young."
"Well, will wonders never cease," Springer said with a grin. "We got a human for ya."
Drift opened his hold, then carefully extracted a clear sided cube with a human sitting inside it. Everyone gathered around to stare. Johnson, with alarm, rose to his feet, pressing his hands against the sides to stand. It wasn't level in Drift's servo so he was tilted slightly.
"So … this is Big Jim Johnson? What's big about him?" Hercy asked as he peered at the human.
"I don't know," Drift said. "I just tote them. I don't understand them."
"You're doing a fine job with the toting," Springer said with a smirk. "Maybe the big part is like … you know," he said with a shrug. Everyone turned to Springer who really regretted 'going there' but because he was a Wrecker and had no shame, he was ready to proceed anyway. If it was possible to make another mech lose his shit, the average Cybertronian mech was ready to go there and back again. The mechs stared at him, waiting. "You know." He nodded at them like they should. He knew they didn't and when he would finally tell them, they would hop around screaming but it would be worth it. He liked how his ada did it with dear old dad. Now it was his turn to 'Ratchet'.
"Ah," Hercy said more than aware of what Springer was doing. "I agree."
Everyone looked at Hercy who looked knowing, Kup who looked inscrutable, Drift who looked amused, then shook their helms. "We agree," they said. "He does."
Springer turned to Twin. "Does what?"
Twin Twist glanced around the group, then nodded. "You know. Like you said."
It was silent a moment, then Springer looked at the group. He looked at Twin. "You mean … you agree that the big part of his name means he has a big penis?" Springer asked.
It took a moment for the group to access the correct references … initiate access, up link, 'penis, big or otherwise', masculine roles and personality quirks, *GRASP MEANING!*, *BLINK THROUGH VISUAL AIDS!* cut up link, turn as one toward Springer, and burst into flames.
"WTF!?" -all of them but Hercy and Kup who were better at hiding their shock and surprise.
And their appreciation of a good and masterful gulling.
"WHAT THE FRAG, SPRINGER!" Twin Twist said as he glanced from Springer to Big Jim and Springer again. "TOO MUCH INFORMATION!"
Big Jim who was watching the hopping around and the screaming felt his fear level exceed eleven. :HEY!: he called out. The comm box built into his cage broadcast into the room. Everyone paused their raging at Springer to turn to him. :YOU SCUMBAGS! WHAT'S GOING ON!?"
They stared at him, then Springer and Drift, then him. Twin bent slightly down. "That's MISTER Scumbag to you, fragger."
Snickers greeted that, then Springer turned to Pycee. "We need to book this clown, then put him in the human jail."
"Very well," Pycee said pulling up an intake sheet on his computer terminal. He looked at the human. "Name?" he asked.
Johnson stared at Pycee with rage, then it hardened into belligerence. :James Johnson:
"Where does the 'big' fit in?" Kup asked as he squinted at the human.
"He'd have to drop his pants to show ya," Hercy said with a straight face just to be ornery.
Groaning and gagging sounds greeted that. Pycee laughed loudly, then looked at Johnson. "Address?"
:Apartment 137, X Corridor, Earth2, fuckers. That's my address," Jim said with a cold tone.
Pycee made a show of typing it. "Apartment … 137 … X … Corridor … Earth2 … fuckers," he said as he input the data including the last because he could be ornery, too. Everyone snickered in the group. All of them including Pycee had acquired and kept up-to-date regarding human swearing. As a mech of arms, it was union. Fuckers was one of their favorite words now, most of them including Lancer who grinned as she stood beside Partition. Though what the younger mechs used, all of whom were watching the show transfixed, was still to be determined yet. Corruption was expected to reach 110% among them over the long haul, however, given their newly chosen professions.
Semper fi.
Springer who was having a great time turned to Pycee. "Anything more?"
"Charges?" Pycee asked.
"We're holding him on transgressing borders and invading Cybertronian sovereignty, assault and battery on a human and intent to assault a Cybertronian-" Springer began.
"A Cybertronian? That little shrimp?" Twin said as everyone leaned in to size up the new meat. Johnson leaned back with an expression of loathing on his face.
"You forget. He has a big wang," Bezel said with a giant grin. He had obviously done more research during the interlude.
Everyone staggered, groaned, whined, and upped Bezel in their estimation as the remark percolated though their processors. The mech had Wrecker potential, that much was clear.
Springer who laughed loudly, glanced at Pycee. "Let that stand. Charges will be clarified in court tomorrow."
Pycee nodded. "What stand? The charges or his wang?" Everyone screamed, Pycee grinned and winked at Bezel. "We can get the rest later. Who locks him up?"
"We can," Springer said as he turned toward a bank of habitats that were installed along the wall in front of the intake desk. They were incredibly reinforced. Even Ironhide's canons at close range, full blast couldn't dent them. They were a row about optic level to Springer, three of them, and were fully functional habitats for humans. They were clearly visible throughout their interior but for a low slung wall inside that hid the toilet and the toilet-ee up to his shoulders from view. Everything else was open to any random slagger walking by. "We'll put him in a gerbil cage."
"Good metaphor," Twin said. "Hamster, gerbil … they're all rats."
"You have a bad opinion of humans, Twin?" Sandstorm asked as he lounged against the intake desk.
"Not really, but I make an exception for mercenaries," Twin said darkly. "This slagger was at Diego when the garrison first formed. One of those slaggers that tried to kill Silverbow and Spirit."
It was cold and silent for a moment as Drift slotted the box into the hatch entrance. It opened, allowing Johnson to step out. When he did, the hatch closed and Drift pulled the box free. Setting it in a slot underneath, it was ready to use for further transport. The machinery indicated all was well so Drift turned to Springer. "You ready to ride?"
"I was born ready," Springer said with a grin. "See ya, Pycee. Call us if there's a problem. He sees no one until tomorrow."
"Got it," Pycee said as the group walked out. As they did, a mob of babbling mini-cons were being hauled out of a van. They would be dragged in for the same treatment, providing a floor show for the inmate in the 'gerbil cage'. It would be a long night for James 'Big Jim' Johnson.
-0-TBC 11-30-17 edited 1-9-18
ESL:
American slang for jail: slammer.
Contrarian: (con-trar-ee-un) someone who goes left when everyone else goes right, someone who goes their own way, sometimes grumpily.
Gull, gulling, gullible: to fool is to gull. The act of fooling is gulling and being fooled easily means you're gullible. I was a seriously gullible little kid but I learned fast. :D
There's a movie to spoofs hair and metal bands, This Is Spinal Tap. The usual Marshall amplifiers, the Cadillac of amplifier in those long ago days, went from 1-10 in sound volume. One of the band members, a dim bulb who played guitar explained how theirs went from 1-11. They asked him if that was a better advancement. He couldn't really explain it beyond it made it 'one better'. It's so hilarious and the band is so dumb, its a must see movie if you're so inclined. :D It's a bit of a joke to say that something is all the way up to eleven. :D
There's a comedy routine called 'schtick' where a guy is annoyed to be called Mr. Johnson, so he exclaims in a loud voice, "My name is Raymond J. Johnson Jr. Now you can call me Ray, or you can call me J, or you can call me Johnny, or you can call me Sonny, or you can call me Junie, or you can call me Junior; now you can call me Ray J, or you can call me RJ, or you can call me RJJ, or you can call me RJJ Jr. . ." ultimately ending with, "but you doesn't hasta call me Johnson!"
A very old song, "I'm in the Jailhouse Now' sorta fits this. "He's in the jail house now! I'm in the jailhouse now! I told him once or twice, quit playing cards or dies, He's in the jailhouse now!" Very old song. :D