The Diego Diaries: Yee-Haw (dd7 29)
Springer hit the ground, rolled, then rose with seething rage. Drift glanced at him, then both ran as fast as they could for the door. They disappeared inside.
The posse watched nearby as Hercy and Kup dismounted. Hercy glanced at Lon and Bezel who had been detailed to watch the civilians in case of 'incident'. The others were already dismounted and inside behind Drift and Springer. "Watch the elders, infants," he said as he and Kup ambled into the building.
Buros and Nugget who appreciated greatness when they saw it chuckled. "I guess we wait."
"Do the kids … what about our kids when things like this happen?" Elkin's atar asked as even Elkin's stand up ada wavered a bit, though he was secretly as excited as he'd ever felt before.
Most of them were if truth be told, the repressed slaggers.
Some just showed it more than the others.
"They don't even get close. They have standing orders. They have to stay with someone delegated to protect them and that means they're never even close to the scene," Lon said as Bezel nodded.
There was shouting, then a mech flew through the broken front window followed by three more. At that point, Drift walked out, limping slightly with the ankle of a mech in his servos. The rest of the mech was dragging out behind him.
Hercy then stepped through the broken front window of the club followed by Kup and they began to cuff everyone. Springer followed with Drift through the door along with the club owner. That mech walked to the chair sitting in the middle of the street, righted it, then sat.
Traffic was backed up or transforming to rubber neck as the sound of a siren could be heard approaching. The paddy wagon was on its way.
=0=In a chair watching a rodeo
Ratchet grinned. "Springer and Drift got mauled at a club riot and thrown through the front window. They arrested five, count them, five high caste youngling mechs. That might be interesting to the slaggers."
"I hope so. The next step is clang their helms together if it isn't enough," Ironhide said with a grin.
=0=Scene
"Tang will take the complaint. You want to add anything?" Springer asked the owner as he lounged nearby.
"Yeah. Hang 'em," the owner said dryly.
A guffaw from the horses nearby drew their attention. Nugget was grinning and offered a wave. Springer guffawed himself, then watched as the wagon drew up, then two bruisers emerged to open the doors.
They looked at Drift and Springer. "You look like slag, Boss. You, too, Springer."
Springer frowned prettily, then glanced at Drift who shrugged. "Bag them up. We'll follow."
The two big mechs began to pile them inside alongside two very drunk, very big mechs who were still bitching at each other. They were stacked, then the doors closed. "See ya, wouldn't want to be ya," one said to Springer to great rousing laughter. They entered and pulled out.
"WHO WOULDN'T WANT TO BE ME! I AM SPRINGER! GOD OF THE HUNT!" he said as they walked back to the horses to follow.
Huge laughter greeted that as they mounted. "Follow us. We're going to the jail to book them. That's what comes next." With that, they began to hoof it.
It wouldn't surprise many of the horsemen that the civilians got the knack right away and kept up. The horses doubled as therapy animals for children most of the time so they were impossible not to ride well. \The civilians also found that they liked it.
=0=At the jail house now
The vehicle arrived, then the mechs climbed out to wait for Springer. Apparently, they were becoming a demonstration piece for civilians with him. Standing by the curb chatting with the jailhouse mechs who were coming out to watch and/or assist, they all ignored the rising level of noise inside. The slaggers were coming around.
The posse rode into the huge driveway and parking lot next to the jail intake. Soon there would be another courthouse and jail located in Crater District 1 to spread the love out but for now, this was the central location. The posse pulled up, then everyone got down but the civilians, Lon and Bezel. They were back from the door and waiting with the other horses near enough to look but not get caught up.
The mechs walked to the vehicle, then formed a half circle of menace around the door end of it. "Open the door, boys," Springer said as he got set. Everyone got set, then the big mech did.
Open the door.
Five infuriated high caste mechs and two man mountain deans of indeterminate former status glared at him, then almost as one rose. It would be poetic how they leaped nearly as one for the mech standing in the doorway. They flew upward like a surging water main seeking to splatter themselves all over anything in their path.
They did.
The mech went down under a bone crunching fuselage of mech-age unseen since probably the last detention wagon to arrive.
Never underestimate the gnarliness of a drunken Cybertronian.
He disappeared as the civilians watching nearby nearly swallowed their tongues in surprise, the circle of Watch mechs glanced at each other with delight and some small surprise, then Springer and Drift jumped on all of them.
It was on.
Hercy and Kup watched with a critical optic. "This could get interesting," Kup said as he held his cygar in his servo. He was giving it the once over.
"Mechs gotta learn," Hercy said with the ghost of a grin.
Kup nodded silently.
The civilians who were watching were mute with fascination, a repelled sensibility and an incredible, nearly unbearable admiration for everyone standing between them and the mosh pit boiling before them.
The horses stood quietly. It was just another day in paradise for them.
One by one, the mechs were sorted and escorted inside. When the last one was trounced, then trucked away, Springer glanced at the civilians. They stared at each other a moment, then Springer waved his arm. "Come on. Let's book 'em." He then limped inside with Drift while Kup and Hercy strolled along behind them.
The civilians stared at one another, then swiftly and awkwardly dismounted. Elkin's ada who was holding her mare's reins glanced at Lon. "How do I park my horse?"
"Drop the reins," Lon said with a chuckle. "That's how they park."
Everyone did, then everyone followed Lon and Bezel to the door to go inside the brightly lit noise filled ninth circle of hell called 'Intake-Booking'.
Inside, the mechs were bellowing about their caste, their rights, everyone's parentage, this and that, yo mama, your daddy, too. The civilians watched nearby, their optics riveted on the entire scene from the big mechs with tazers, the drunken hooligans who were screaming about how they were *SOMEONE!* once upon a time, the two big man mountain deans who were grinning at a guard as they chatted together and the desk sarge who looked bored as fuck.
"Book 'em, Danno," Springer said with barely controlled murder in his voice.
"Where have I heard that before?" the sarge asked with a slight grin as he stared at Springer. "You look like slag."
"I'll have you know that *THIS*," he replied as he spread his arms wide, "is prime stuff."
Laughter greeted that including the civilians as Springer gripped a kid's arm and pulled him forward. "Tell the nice man your data, slagger, and you win an overnight vacation in a room without doors. Don't make this harder."
The mech looked at Springer with his bleary optics, then head butted him. Springer staggered, then bent the kid's arm around his back. Blinking as red flags went off everywhere, Springer looked at the sarge who grinned back at him. "I'm going to bend this slagger's arm until it snaps if he doesn't give his data. Do you feel me now, slagger?" Springer said as he leaned down to the kid's helm.
"FRAG YOU, DIRT LICKER!" he cried out around his own warning flags.
It was frigid a moment especially among the high castes watching as they felt the room react to the remark, or not. Most of the mechs and femmes present had heard it all fifty different ways in as many languages and dialects.
Frag them back.
Then the desk sarge began. "Name: High Tone Fragger. Occupation: Asshole. Distinguishing characteristics: Entitlement, buffoonery, no class, dumb as a bag of hammers and simple mindedness. Residence: born in a barn. I suppose his former residence was Straight Up the Debris Chute of Nova Prime?"
Drift snickered. "Yes."
The sarge typed, then looked at the others who were suddenly wary. "NEXT!"
They began to give their details grudgingly as their comrade stayed bent over in Springer's grip. One by one, they were dragged off until he was left. Springer relented, then watched carefully as the kid staggered up again. "Tell your data and go to jail."
"I don't have to tell you anything, fragger. Who are you to treat me like this?" he snarled. He was really, really, really, really, *REALLY*, really, really, really drunk.
"Well," Drift began conversationally, "his IS the God of the Hunt, so ..."
Everyone in the mob nodded and agreed including half the civilians as Springer smirked at all of them. "Fraggers," he said, then turned to the kid. "You're blotto. Give it up, sleep it off, then go to court and take it like a mech."
"Who says, fragger?" he said. "Who are you, dirt, to tell me what to do? I could buy and sell you. You can't speak to me like this. My atar owned an airport on Cybertron. My uncle is Decimus."
"Was. WAS Decimus. He's shining peds with his tongue in the Matrix. Cybertron is a big smoking hole in the ground. You don't own slag anymore and you're stepping on your prong you're so drunk. What's the name or you're going to be sorry when you're sober. If you live that long."
The kid stared at him, then swayed slightly closer. "My NAME is Bentley. My father is Hardcover. My ada is Impulse of Capital City. I'm superior, you see, to you in every way. I could own you. I could have you arrested for no reason and you'd be in jail forever. Who do you think you are?"
"Well … I'm Springer, God of the Hunt," Springer replied then he glanced at the desk sargent who was laughing with everyone else. "You got enough?"
He nodded.
"Take him, boys," Springer said as the jailers grabbed him and carried his screaming backside into the jail. The door closed and muted his tirade. It was deathly silent a moment, then Springer turned to the group, swaying slightly as he did. "Let's get some more," he said to hilarity and deeply shouted approval. He staggered past the civilians, then everyone disappeared.
The desk sargent glanced at the civilians. "Are you checking in, too? We're having a sale," he said with a slight smirk. Everyone was told who these mechs and femmes were and why they were here. It was hilarious to all that the evening should be so enlightening.
To both sides of the dividing line.
"No," they said, then hustled to follow the mechs.
Outside, Lon and Bezel helped the civilians mount up, then all watched as the Watch mechs did as well. "Springer?"
He glanced at Nugget who looked solemn. "That's me. Apparently."
Nugget smirked slightly, then grew solemn. "I'm sorry about that kid and what he said. I've never held to that notion. My son can tell you that. I appreciate you, all of you and what you do. I can see why my Sil loves this. Thank you for helping her realize her dreams. Sometimes a cage, no matter how fancy is still a cage."
Springer stared at him, then the others. "No problem. The kids are gold." He frowned slightly at Hercy and Kup. "Thanks for the support."
"No problem," Kup replied. "Do we ride or do we hug it out?"
Huge laughter greeted that.
They rode.
=0=End of shift
A mellow group of civilians and Watchmen led their horses to the stable handlers, then waited for Springer and the others to come forward for the walk to The Diner On The Corner. Nugget held out his servo to Springer. "That was the most fun I've had in eons. I think everyone here will say the same, Springer. Gentlemen. You all do such good work for the common good and we appreciate it more than you can know. How's the helm?"
Springer grinned. "Fine as frog's hair."
Everyone there grinned and chuckled even in spite of themselves.
"In the old orns those kids would have been beaten to a pulp if they weren't high caste and put in prison. You showed something we never did on Cybertron, mercy and patience. Thank you for helping my little imp find her purpose," Buros said.
Springer shook his hand, then turned to see some of the genitors waiting with theirs. It was almost startling to hear them thank him for the fun, the professionalism and the horses as they chatted about things, children, hopes and dreams and their own misconceptions, halting though it was. It was startling and wondrous.
For both sides.
"Well, thank you for the company," Springer said with a grin. "We're going to The Diner On The Corner for breakfast. You're welcome to come along," Springer said as the other mechs nodded. "A lot of the Watch use it for a club house after and before shift. If you ever get mugged its easier to go there to find a cop than a station house," he said as every chuckled.
It was probably true.
They would go together, talking, laughing, asking and answering questions. It would be more different and real than most of them ever imagined things could be between the social divides that were as phony as the personal self beliefs of half of the mechs and femmes with them.
It would be the start of a new life for more than just 15 kids with dreams.
=0=TBC 7-3-19