The Diego Diaries: Stuff and Then Some (dd6 656)
=0=Morning
Ratchet watched as Ironhide gathered the imps and the older kids to go to the bus stop. Hero was standing beside Halo who had her arm around Robby the Bruce. He was standing placidly waiting for Ironhide to pick him up, stow him and head out. It was noisy and busy all around him. He, himself was downed for two orns unless an emergency or something required him. He was also going to tell his family about his mugging shortly.
Like now.
They poured in and picked up children, hugged bigger ones and chatted with everyone. Ratchet glanced around. "Infants, hold an elevator. Boys? Could you take them with?"
The big kids nodded then herded everyone including a dog and a cow out the door. Ratchet stepped in front of it. "Just so you know, I got mugged last night."
Everyone including Ironhide's elders made a short search, then bedlam happened for a moment.
"It might be in the police reports or on The Hourly News. I hope not. Just so you know," Ratchet said as he was hugged.
Alor frowned at him. "Slagger. You're supposed to CALL ME!"
"Next time I'm mugged I will," Ratchet said with a chuckle.
"THERE'S GOING TO *BE* NO NEXT TIME!" -Ironhide
"I *SECOND* THAT!" -Appa Ratchet
"WHAT THE *FRAG*!? *WHAT* NEXT TIME!?" -everyone else
They ambled out, went down, then everyone turned to Ratchet. He stared at them, then backed up heading for the tower. He entered, then disappeared.
"He won't stay in there," Ravel said with a frown. "What a reckless boy."
Everyone grinned at Ravel then everyone went their various ways. When they were gone Ratchet peeked out and went his.
=0=The night before
Rockwell went down the hallway under arrest as his bond watched. He walked back in and closed the door again. They entered the elevator to go down to the lobby. Drift stepped off on the floor with Pico, spotting Springer reaching the door.
Springer rapped on it, listened for footsteps, then braced as the door opened. "I'm Springer from the Night Watch. Could you step out of a moment, Pico?"
"Why?" a voice inside asked as Drift reached Springer.
"Please step out," Springer repeated.
A big mech stepped out, glancing warily at both as Springer spun him, then cuffed his wrists behind him. "You're under arrest for the suspicion of assault and battery and other charges to be pending. You may be silent, have an attorney appointed and everything you say be used against you. Do you understand?"
He glared at them, then nodded slightly. Glancing at another mech standing inside looking shocked, Pico snarled, "Call our attorney" before he was led away.
They entered the elevator and the door closed. Pico glared at them but he didn't say a word. Drift and Springer stared back, their expressions of contempt and ice cold disdain sufficient for what they felt. The door opened on the tenth floor so they stepped out.
Walking to the door, Springer rapped again. Again, footfalls could be heard, then the door opened a crack. "This is the Watch. I want Carver to come out."
The door started to close before Springer put his ped in to block it. They slammed it against it before Springer pushed it back to step into the room.
It was a beautiful apartment occupied by three mechs, two in a bond and Carver. Springer stepped in and turned to the three. "Which one of you is Carver?"
No one spoke, so Springer unsubbed multiple cuffs. "Very well. Preventing an officer from doing his duty … I'll arrest all three of you."
Two glanced at each other sharply, so Springer turned to one who was staring at him with rage. "Carver, you're under arrest. Don't make it worse."
Carver didn't so Springer cuffed him. "Let's go," he said as he gripped Carver's arm. They walked out and with Pico and Drift headed for the elevator.
It was a short silent ride downward to the waiting police van. They were stuffed inside then everyone mounted up to ride to the Jailhouse. This was one booking everyone wanted to see.
=0=At a department store in the 'fun' section
Ratchet looked at all the noise makers and fun time stuff that was always a part of what Cybertronians did when they wanted to go big. Iaconians had a habit of dressing outlandishly at games and being spectacles. Praxians were tight buttoned but liked to punch each other. All team fans everywhere did that but Praxians were the worst.
Given that Ratchet was an Iaconian home boy, he wanted to represent to the nth degree. So he went through all the aisles of fun stuff picking out the odd thing as he tried to create a spectacle that would curl Prowl's toes. It was hilarious to him that Prowl had to root for Iacon. A Praxian would rather poke their optics out than do that.
How the mighty had fallen.
He chuckled, then walked to the door to go down the street to destiny: a piece of cherry chocolate cake and a scoop of vanilla ice cream at the Chocoholic, a new diner bakery in Kalis.
=0=Last night
The police van arrived and parked by the door as a mob of mounted patrol officers arrived and hitched their horses at the rack across the street in the big parking lot. Walking to the van, they watched as the drivers and guards opened the door, then one leaned in. "Come out one at a time."
Rockwell rose and walked down the steps to stand on the sidewalk nearby. Pico and Carver came next. Gathering together, Springer took them forward as they walked toward the door and the jail inside.
Entering the room, it was quiet all around them. There were no inmates in the temporary cells and the crew on duty was playing cards in the lounge. They looked up and waved.
Springer waved back, then halted the three before Mojo.
Mojo glanced up from his book, then sat back. "More? You keep bringing me more? And high end, too. Springer, I'm touched."
Amusement met that by everyone but the three as Springer stepped forward. "We have three for you, Mojo. Assault and battery as well as charges to be made later during arraignment."
"Okay," he said pulling up a screen. He fixed his gaze on Pico. "Name, address, occupation, etc."
Pico stared at him then began. "Pico of Capital City."
Mojo nodded and added it. "Address."
"Apartment 123, Floor 4, Tower 42, 8th and G Street, Iacon, District 111."
Mojo added it. "Occupation."
"Engineer. I work for Claris and Sons."
"Next of kin, contact?"
"My bond, Stylus."
Mojo entered it, then fixed his gaze on Carver. "Who the frag are you?"
Carver flashed a heated expression, then calmed again. "Carver of Polyhex."
"Continue."
"Apartment 18, Floor 10, Tower 42, 8th and G Street, Iacon, District 111."
"Continue."
"I am a data engineer at the Energon Administration."
"Contact?"
"My bond, Moley."
Mojo entered that, then glanced at Rockwell. It was a mutual hate at first sight between them. "Who are you, dare I ask?"
Rockwell took a moment to gain a calmer tone, then told him. "I am Rockwell of Iacon, nephew of Sentinel Prime."
Everyone stared at him silently.
Then Mojo leaned in closer. "You do know that Sentinel was recalled by the Pantheon and it means fuck all here to be related to him?"
Springer quashed his burgeoning admiration for human swearing and his delight that every level of his departmental operation was infected by that virus. He watched Rockwell who he remembered from an epic fight. He and his man mountain deans, the cousins.
Rockwell for his part didn't say anything back. His expression was taking care of that.
"Give me the rest, slagger. I haven't got all night," Mojo said.
"Apartment 92, Floor 8, Tower 42, 8th and G Street, Iacon, District 111."
"Ah, a pocket of crime in Tower 42, Springer. You might want to tell the geo-analysts so we can go in there and lay servos on community enforcement before we have to condemn the whole area," Mojo said with a slight grin.
Springer chuckled. "Okay," he said to the delight and sneering of his mechs.
"Contact?"
"My bond, Periodic."
"All the same charges or are they versatile?" Mojo asked. "They look versatile. Don't they?"
Everyone looked at the three, then Mojo. "Okay," Roadie said.
Everyone snickered as the three broiled their anger and frustration in silence.
Springer glanced at the lounge. "Where are the porters? What kind of hotel are you running here, Mojo?"
"Four star. Michelin is thinking of giving us a fifth," Mojo bantered.
"The tires or the guidebook?" Drift asked as they burst into laughter.
"Come on," Roadie said. "I'll check them in. I suppose your bags are going to be delivered later?"
"We'll forward them," Mojo said helpfully.
Three mechs broiling with outrage walked silently with Roadie to the door and disappeared inside. Everyone watched them go, then laughed loudly including Mojo.
Springer grinned at him. "How's business?"
"The usual. You're ahead, though. Those five kids and these three … that's a pretty good haul of high tone entitlement. How's your ada?"
"Ratchet's good. They broke his arm. Kicked good, too, but he's going to be fine. Our old dad is lit, however. They can't go out and not get into trouble. Am I the only one who notices this?" Springer asked as Roadie walked back.
"No." -everyone
Roadie returned then halted beside Springer. "I canned them. What now?"
"We go get some more," Springer said with a grin.
Roadie nodded. "Okay."
Huge laughter accompanied the mechs as they walked out to do more policing. Meanwhile, five youngling mechs and three older ones stared at each other across the corridor from their respective jail cells. Reading each other's tats had shown their mutual backgrounds and a chat had solidified their mutual grievances.
A new alliance was born this night.
=0=Ratchet
He walked into the grocery store and filled up, having it delivered that evening. He walked to the book store to stock up there and headed for home after picking up an eclectic array of lunch food here and there as the fancy struck him.
Having free time was weird.
=0=Lunchtime
Ironhide walked home loaded for bear. He'd been on Cybertron doing his duty and had a friend in Emergency Services track Ratchet on the grid. He hadn't been home all morning. Stepping off the elevator, he thundered down the hallway until he reached his door. Opening it, he walked in ready to slag stuff to the moon and back. Pausing a couple of steps in, he turned to toward his chair.
Lounging in his own, Ratchet was splayed out. He had a small teevee table beside his chair covered with all manner of junk including candy, cake, pre-made sandwiches, beer, soft drinks, chips and cookies. He smiled at Ironhide as he continued to click through the teevee channels with the remote. "Hey, handsome. Sit and help me find something to watch."
Ironhide smirked. "I am aren't I," he said as he stared at the counter piled high with 'fun food'. He walked over, heaped a plate and a teevee table with slag and drinks, then walked back to set it beside his chair. He sat back, popped the top on a beer, then took a drag. He grinned. "You didn't stay home at all this morning."
"You try it. I've been in harness too long to just sit," Ratchet said. "Have a piece of the cake. Its called Black Forest. It has cherries."
"My favorite," Ironhide said as he put a piece on his own teevee table from Ratchet's.
"What's up out there? I heard that Springer arrested the culprits," Ratchet said.
"He did. It was Rockwell and two other slaggers from that group, someone called Carver and Pico. They're in the slammer," Ironhide said.
"I suppose they get arraigned this afternoon," Ratchet said. "If they do, I want to be there."
"You're not going anywhere. I'm going. I want to hear what they do," Ironhide said.
"Fragger. Hog the lime light even if it isn't yours," Ratchet said with a grin.
"Slagging right. I AM IRONHIDE! I HOG THE LIGHT, LIME OR OTHERWISE!" he said with a grin and a big drag of beer.
Ratchet laughed. "Never change."
"I won't. You eating those Oreos?" he asked.
=0=TBC 5-9-19