The Diego Diaries: Moving On (dd7 261)
=0=Mom's All Night Diner, City 3, Crater District 3
"You can go back to the boy's party."
"Do we dare?" Springer asked with a grin.
"I would," Ratchet replied with one of his own. "Everyone sober there? Ironhide has church tomorrow morning."
Huge laughter greeted that.
"How many orns does he have left?" Laret asked.
"Six," Ratchet said. "I think its hilarious. Its too bad it hasn't changed a thing."
Chuckles were had, then Springer and Drift took their leave.
Everyone watched them go then glanced at Ratchet.
He sat back. "Ah, so this is how you're going to play it."
"Whatever do you mean, Loon?" Prowl asked with a frown. There were footprints, faint and of varying size all over him.
"I think we need to go to the main wash rack in the local hub and get you washed up. We have a reputation to uphold," Ratchet said as he smirked at Prowl.
Prowl didn't smirk back.
They rose to follow Ratchet to the street and a short walk to the metro station nearby. It was a skip and a jump to the hub three stories below the city where they watched and catcalled Prowl wash his aft.
=0=Up there
"We have to do something about the gangs," Raptor said. "Those slaggers are going to kill someone."
'This is the second big fight with guns at The Hot Spot. I like that family. They're good folks," Springer said as he and Drift settled in for a beer and dessert(s).
"That other one … the Southies. Those are the ones whose genitors support them, the high castes," Jack asked.
Drift nodded. "We have two high caste gangs, the Southies and the Darksiders along with the Coppos who are mixed, low and mid caste. That leaves two that are still nebulous. We're not too sure what they contain but they seem to be scoping out the terrain. They flash sign on walls and we're tracking them. I don't know. They feel more criminal than the others but criminal in a 'get stuff and not show off' sort of way, like a road rage gang."
"Oh, joy," Blackjack said. "It was bound to happen. Aren't we about 140,000,000 now, Magnus?"
Magnus nodded. "We just passed it. They come in a steady stream. The idea of them not bringing problems and this sort of riff raff would be a hope too far."
"What are you going to do about it?" Rockwell asked Springer with a cold expression. He had his third beer and was working on his fourth. His inhibitions were loosened and he was feeling powerful in spite of being outnumbered.
"Well, we were thinking about rounding them up to shoot them against a wall. We're sort of tired of all of them. They threw down with guns at a game. What about our proposal, Optimus? Have you given it thought?" Springer asked as internally everyone snickered. Gas lighting slaggers was a sport amongst the military set.
Prime who was feeling very little including his peds considered Springer's little jest. He nodded. "I am having Barron check it out against the Charter and associated law. I do realize I do not have to being that we are in martial law but there are certain guidelines that I have to adhere to for the proprieties."
"But they're only guidelines," Blackjack said with a very serious expression. "We've been over this before."
"I realize that but there are many more optics here and I must take more care," Optimus managed while off line he was getting a standing ovation from the mechs.
His father who was lounging next to him nursing the first beer he was given grinned at his son. He loved Orion's sense of playfulness when he was around those he loved. This was amusing even as he was clear that it was impossible. "You always were a good mech, Orion. Taking care to observe the proprieties before you shoot them is the right and decent thing to do."
Prime glanced at his father, noting his merry optics and very faint smirk. He felt an ocean of love nearly capsize him for a moment, then he nodded. "Heavy is the helm that wears the crown, Atar." He slid over slightly to lean against his father's shoulder.
Tagg patted him gently. "You are a good son."
"He says he's going to assassinate mechs. How is that a good thing?" Rockwell asked with surprise.
"My son gives a lot of thought to what he does. It would not be without careful consideration before they are carted off to the Mausoleum," Tagg replied to the DELIGHT of everyone in the room. "We are nothing if not a civilization of laws."
"Since when is murder lawful?" Rockwell asked with astonishment.
"Since a Prime delegates that its so. You should read history," Sun said with a very serious expression. "I do remember the Clampdown and the resultant attacks against demonstrators in which the government went to great pains to kill them during Sentinel's reign. They killed for their own reasons that had nothing to do with the laws of our species. All of the demonstrations were allowed under law. The government killed them without mercy anyway. I do believe martial law was thrown in there to help them justify it."
It was silent as Rockwell stared from one face to another. It was clear that he was shocked that this Prime of Cybertron, the soft sparked Optimus would countenance murder for very little reason. It was clear to everyone watching him that the thought processes of Rockwell were very convoluted and illogical.
"I was thinking that the quarry out on the TransWorld Highway would be a good place for an execution site," Springer said with a very calm and reasonable tone. "We can start a cemetery out there. Sort of a no name pauper's graveyard. No one is going to miss them. They're trouble making criminals."
"Their families will," Rockwell interjected. He glanced at Prime who looked as calm as everyone else. "Their families and friends. You're talking about the high castes. You think no one will miss them?"
Springer shrugged. "So what? Where will they go and what will they do about it?"
Rockwell sat up straighter. "You're going to commit murder, bury the victims without telling anyone and expect their families and friends not to care?"
"It seems the best way to maintain order. Given that Sentinel did the same thing expecting no one to notice, I don't get the problem. I'm just ... tired of them. Aren't you?" Springer asked Drift.
Drift nodded. "They keep firing weapons. I can better tolerate fights but they're escalating. Its posing a threat to the populace and frankly, they'll shoot one of us sooner or later and I think if anyone gets a grave, its best to be them."
Rockwell stared at him. "We won't allow it. We'll know."
"What can you do about it, Rockwell?" Springer asked with irritation. "Really … what the frag can you do about it?"
"I can tell. We can protest," Rockwell said.
"And we can arrest you and if you get to be too big a nuisance we can leave you to rot in prison or take you to the quarry and disappear you. Think about it. Do you really want to be dead this young? Do you really think your slagging principles are worth a round in the back of your helm and a dirt nap?" Springer asked.
Rockwell stared around the room at the cold hard faces staring at him. Even a softie like First Aid had the same expression. He stood up. "I'm leaving."
Bumblebee stood and moved to block the door. "I don't think so. What about it, Prime? He might tell someone."
"Who would believe him?" Hard Drive said. "He's just a whiner. Prime is the Prime. No one will take his word against Optimus and who's going to miss a few cretins who can't fit in and this guy? Really, Rockwell, we've worked hard on you to help you change but you aren't."
"I meant to talk to you about that, brother. He walked into the hidden shrine and didn't feel a slagging thing. He was indifferent to the greatness and the holiness," Sun said.
"That's not good, Rockwell. I find it intriguing that you can feel something for a bunch of criminals that aren't worth slag to anyone and not that. What's the deal? Enlighten me." Hardie stared at him with the age of years behind him. It was a powerful stare to meet.
"You talk about killing a bunch of mechs like its nothing. You just like killing high castes," Rockwell said. "Kudon and everyone else. You won't be happy until all of us are dead."
"I would miss you, Appa," Ultra Magnus said as he sat on a chair next to Tagg who was watching the show with rapt attention. "Half this room is high caste. I would suggest that you adjust your thinking on that score, Rockwell. Kudon killed himself. That's the story, right, Appa?" he asked as he glanced at Hardie.
"So I've been told, grandson," Hardie said. "We're going to cap the other gangs, too. They've not made any strides to change and have become a liability to everyone. It isn't about caste, Rockwell. Its about the inability to change and become more socially acceptable. You know, adhering to the rules even if they're slag. We gave you a chance and you aren't taking it."
Rockwell stared at Hard Drive. "You're going to kill me, too?"
"No. Maybe you'll kill yourself," Ironhide said even if he was drunk on his aft. Fantasizing out loud was fun.
Rockwell turned to Bee, then charged him.
Bee set him back, then everyone in the room stood.
Trapped in the middle, Rockwell spun around. "NO!"
=0=At a diner
"There's something going on with the boys," Ratchet said as he felt the odd energy from Ironhide flow through him.
"What?" Edict asked as they were given their drinks and desserts.
"I don't know." Ratchet grinned at his pie. "I love pie."
"You sound like Orion," Kestrel said with a smile.
"Good for me," Ratchet replied.
=0=Up there
The children were in the far end of the house drowsing and playing quietly. It was late and they were ready to go to sleep. Some were already laying on the big berths down at Sunny's side of the house blissfully unaware of the goings-on at the other end.
Rockwell turned rapidly in a circle as he tried to find a way out of his trap. All around him, huge mechs all heavily armed surrounded him. Their hard expressions were terrifying and their affect was clear. He was doomed. He turned to Optimus. "Prime! Do something."
Optimus stared at Rockwell. He'd seen these last ditch things happen and had participated in many. They were 'Hail Mary' plays as the humans called them, the last ditch effort to ring sense into someone or information out of them. It often focused the processor if a mech thought the mob was coming for them. He was always the docile slightly neutral observer who could be swayed. The other mechs did the work.
Tagg watched the show, then his son leaned closer to him. "What do you think, Atar? You are wise."
Tagg glanced at his son, then the frightened mech in the middle of a grim visaged mob. "I am unsure. What do you think is the best course? I would be devastated if somehow your ada was harmed by such beings but I have no advice on what you should do. Do what is best for the greater good."
Prime nodded. "The greater good," he mused. He glanced at Hard Drive. "General, you are wise as well. What is your position on this matter?"
"The greater good. That was the excuse that the high castes used to oppress the population. Somehow, the greater good always coincided with their greater gain. I think its the people's right to be safe, to feel secure and to prosper. I am very tired of this sort of thing, Lord Optimus."
The group nodded.
Rockwell clenched his fists. "You would murder me without mercy to make things smooth. You would kill me and maybe my family, Periodic and my genitors because you don't like what we believe."
"You have that wrong, infant," Jack said. "We don't care what you believe. We aren't the thought police. Its how you act. Its your slagging entitlement. Your believe that you were born better than everyone else. Didn't you learn one thing in the Diaspora? Not one thing?"
Rockwell stared at him.
=0=TBC 4-21-2020 5-8-2020
Some times when there's no accountability, logic and a sense of irony are lost.