The Diego Diaries: Plead (dd7 54)
I hate toothaches. Nothing worse. Maybe. ON WITH THE SHOW!
=0=On the street outside
"Where are you going now, old mech?" Ironhide asked as everyone divied up the kids.
"I'm going to the show at the courthouse. Which one is it? The one here or the one out there. Where is it?" Ratchet asked Springer.
"Crater 2, City 4. It's on 10th and G Street," Springer said as everyone pondered what they were going to do on this the second orn of Festival weekend.
"Well, see ya," Ratchet said with a big smile. He began to walk to the Metro as the others watched.
They glanced at each other, then followed.
=0=At the jail of the Crater Courthouse, City 4, Crater District 2, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire, Postal District 1,347-1C
The jailer was waiting at the door for the supervisor to arrive. The prisoners inside, Haro-n, Chivet and Brisk were acting up. Given that a lot of individuals did, there were protocols in place to ensure that all was well and no one got the short end of the stick because of their behavior.
Step one: Ascertain the level of (self) destruction the slagger might commit. If they were busting up their cells, that was one thing. But if they were using their helm as the implement of destruction, that was another.
Step two: Once the level of (self) threat was determined by a sliding scale from Corrections created in conjunction with Processor Health, intense training as part of the operation of the jail as well as common sense, then one could call for a supervisor. If it was an imminent threat of bodily harm, the intervention team for a cell extraction could be called.
The last step was discretional for the supervisor. If the slagger in question was being an aft, they could be left to continue if there wasn't going to be anyone die from it. Most of the time, the supervisors could get things stopped by telling them of the extra charges and possible decaorns in jail from said behavior. Only once in a while was an actual team extraction necessary.
The supervisor, a huge mech named Folger walked in, chatted a moment to the jailer, then walked to the cells where the three were. Two of them had slight grazes on their arms, Chivet and Brisk, from the shooting. They were jailed together after their minor scratch-like 'wounds' were taken care of. Haro-n had no wounds but his bad attitude wasn't making him any friends among the fascinated but disgruntled mechs in the other cells rounded up after being drunk and disorderly.
"You made a mess. You're breaking rules. What's your problem?" he asked. He was gigantic, rather Turmoil size big and a very quiet mech. He liked racing, working part time with a construction crew as their go-to bulldozer and his family.
Stanix forever!
"We want out of here. Someone tried to shoot us. We're the victims here," Haro-n said angrily.
"I don't judge you. I jail you. I want you to slide those trays through the slot after you put everythimg back on them. Then get yourself ready for court. You're going to be arraigned in a moment," Folger said.
"And if we don't?" Chivet asked with a lot of heat.
"Then I have to come in and use you for shovels until everything in back on the trays. It's up to you," Folger said quietly.
Chivet looked at the trays, then piled everything on one while stacking them. He turned to the slot, then set them down on the ground. "You want them, you get them," he said coldly.
Folger stared at the tray, the mess on the floor where the three had dropped them in their rampage, then the two mechs in one cage and one in the other. "You don't have any manners. What about you, slagger? You have one, too."
"Come and get it, clown," Haro-n said grimly as he gathered himself to fight.
Folger and the jailer stared at each other, then the three. The jailer dropped the bars on Chivet and Brisk, then stepped inside. What followed wasn't pretty.
=0=Courthouse
Springer and Drift left the group to check on the prisoners. They went through security, got the short version of the three troublemakers, then hurried into the cell block. In another one in a different corridor nearby, three gangsters sat in their cells while several others of their crew were in the hospital. In still another cell block down still another corridor, two other slaggers from Haro-n's group waited to be gathered up to be arraigned. All in all, five of seven of Haro-n's group were in jail while three of the nine gangsters were. Everyone else was still in the hospital.
Entering the cell where Brisk, Chivet and Haro-n were being held, they slowed to inspect the scene. The three slaggers were on their knees scrubbing the floor while Folger stood over them.
The jailer glanced at the two, then grinned. "We had an accident."
"THESE FRAGGERS BEAT US UP!" Chivet said as he paused his scrubbing. "FRAGGERS! YOU WILL REGRET THIS!"
Folger who looked as calm as ever glanced at Springer. "I won't regret it."
"No, I don't think you will," Drift said with a chuckle.
"I don't want Cymbal's job to be harder than it is keeping this place clean," Folger said as he glanced at the three who were staring at Springer with daggers. "Get it done."
They stared at him, then each other. "Frag this," Brisk said as he cleaned the last spot. He stood, then tossed the rag into a bucket. "FRAG YOU!"
"No thanks," Folger said quietly. "What do you want me to do with them? When's the call to appear?"
"In a moment," Springer said as he stepped closer. "You three will walk to the courtroom like you had a lick of sense and do what you're told. Anything you do that makes that difficult will be added to the charges. Understand?"
They glared at Springer.
Chivet stepped closer. "You fraggers will pay for this."
"No we won't," Folger said as he glanced at Drift. "We won't."
Drift nodded with a grin. "Nope. You, Springer? Leo?" he asked the jailer.
The three shrugged.
"I don't think so," Leo said as he took a message. "You three fraggers are going up. Step out and stand on that line," he said pointing to one painted on the floor facing the doors beyond.
With luminous irritation, the three complied and with Drift leading the way and Leo following at the end, they walked out together.
When they were gone Springer turned to Folger. "Floor looks good, Folger."
Folger looked at it, then Springer. "I liked it before. Cymbal and his family do a good job here. I put them into the boss for commendation. They clean up a lot of puke."
Springer grinned broadly. "You're a stand up mech, Folger. I may have to put you in for a commendation."
A ghost of a grin formed on Folger's face. He nodded slightly. "That would be very neighborly of you, Boss."
"Actually, there's a half the planet between Stanix and Polyhex," Springer said as they walked toward the doors.
Folger nodded. "That's okay. I forgive ya," he said as he walked out the doors.
Springer followed him with a snicker.
=0=Topside a few moments before
There were a number of agitated former high caste looking bots waiting in the corridor of the courtroom with a number of lawyers and their specialists on this and that. Prime and the group walked in, then began to walk past them when one of them called to Optimus.
He stopped, then glanced back to see the son of a major industrialist waving him to come over. Prime glanced at the others. "Save me a seat."
"I'm going with you. You never know when you need back up," Ironhide said as he looked at the others. "I'll cut you in on the audio," he said softly to the rest of them.
They nodded, then walked to the doors to enter the courtroom.
Prime and Ironhide watched them go then walked toward the group watching with wariness and concern.
"You wish to speak to me?" Prime asked the mech, someone named Jarbo who was a major functionary in the family business but low key and relatively unknown outside a small circle.
"I do," Jarbo said. "I'm very concerned that my son was involved in this sordid affair and that he's being held. There were shots. My son didn't shoot anyone."
"I am not familiar with all the details of this situation. That is what the court will determined. I assume that you have relevant council?" Optimus asked.
"We do but we're convinced that a grave miscarriage of justice is happening here," Jarbo said. "As you know, I operate a newspaper and thus, there are many avenues of investigation available to me regarding this case. My son was attacked by gangsters and criminals."
"Then you have nothing to worry about. The arraignment is going to happen, then trials. We can find out then if he's a participant or a bystander," Ironhide said.
"That would be a grave miscarriage of justice, to have my son go through the ordeal of a trial when he was a victim here," Jarbo said.
"That is for the courts to decide. I am not authorized to step in and do anything. That is the province of the courts," Prime said.
"You're the Prime. Act like it. I am formally petitioning for his release," Jarbo replied hotly.
Prime stared at the big angry mech, then his chagrined council. "I have no standing at this time. Perhaps you can explain to your clients that is so. This is not Cybertron during the Clampdown. I will not interfere."
"Maybe it should be," Jarbo said hotly. "Then my son wouldn't be in jail."
"No, you'd rescue his sorry aft. That doesn't mean he didn't deserve to go. It just means that his old atar pulled strings or made bribes. Stop me if you've heard of this before," Ironhide said equally as hotly.
Jarbo stared at Ironhide with fury. "Everyone knows about you, Ironhide. I'm talking to Prime."
"And I'm here to hear it, too, slagger. By the way … I AM IRONHIDE! You can't touch me if I say so. Remember that?" he asked as he turned his helm slightly to show the copper glyph of his rank. "Who's the slagger now?"
Jarbo glared at Ironhide, then Prime. "Then I take it that you won't be doing your duty to my son?"
"I have no place in this process." With that, Optimus walked toward the door to enter.
Ironhide watched him go, then turned to the group. "Good thing you don't have anything I want. You'd have to hand it over. If you don't remember anything else, remember that," he said, then walked to the door to disappear inside.
It was a seething group that watched him go.
=0=Inside
Everyone but Springer and Drift sat on chairs in the audience as big bots like Optimus sat on the bench along the wall. Prowl joined him. He'd listened to the conversation in the hallway and was showing the signs of deep irritation. The room buzzed a moment, then the magistrate, Sorel-1 walked in to sit.
"Everyone stand for Magistrate Sorel-1," Silver said as he served as court clerk.
Everyone did.
"Everyone sit and observe the decorum. If you don't you'll be removed," Silver said then sat.
Everyone else did as lawyers walked to the table to sit.
Mar-C, a bold femme lawyer who specialized in novel incarcerations and sentencing was the prosecutor of the orn. She was brilliant, young, tenacious and funny.
A moment of housekeeping was held, then Sorel-1 nodded to Silver. He stood. "The Prime versus Chivet of Iacon, Haro-n of Capital City and Brisk of Praxus is called."
The bailiff opened the door to the jail holding area, leaned on, then opened it wider. Springer walked out followed by Chivet, Brisk and Haro-n. They looked pissed.
Springer was merely amused.
Their genitors and others with them looked pissed. Everyone looked pissed but Optimus Prime.
That was okay, however. Prowl was taking care of that for him.
=0=TBC 8-5-19 8-6-19