The Diego Diaries: Slammer (dd3 338)

-0-In the brig

No one moved a moment, then the sound of bodies settling could be heard again. Ratchet sat back, Alor and Prowl on either side of him. It was quiet a moment, then a voice called out. "You still didn't tell us about murdering Kudon, slagger."

Sunstreaker who was leaning against the wall with his brother glared at them with murderous optics. "I'd prefer to show you. Care to volunteer?"

Sio moved to the bars, his silhouette more clear in the glow of the energon. He stared down the corridor between the cells as if looking for a particular individual. It was silent a moment, then he stepped as close as he dared to see more clearly. "You murdered Kudon and I can imagine you murdered Retro."

Sunstreaker who was leaning against the wall while he sat on a berth chuckled. "You sound like that's a bad thing, slagger."

"Tell me you aren't hunting us?" Sio asked.

"I'm not but if you want me to I will. I'm army. I live to serve," Sunstreaker said. Snickers from the soldiers echoed in the stillness. "How many low castes did you kill? I'm sure the number will make Primus proud."

Ratchet studied the youngling who didn't appear to have any fear of the individuals that he was needling. That he was provoking the most dangerous of the Autobots that they had in the Army was astonishing to him. The youngling obviously knew that Sunstreaker was the one who'd ended Kudon so it was clear to Ratchet that this mech knew who and what kind of individual Sunstreaker was. He was going straight at him anyway. It was instructive.

"Frag you. You blame us for the Fall? It happened because of you and your kind," Sio said. "You fraggers love to pass blame."

Ratchet blinked at that one. "There wouldn't have been unrest if you hadn't taken everything to yourself. There were sparklings going hungry. Elderly. But then that doesn't matter to you. Its that obvious to us, the ones who protected Cybertron and everyone there. Too bad that included your sorry afts, you know nothing punks."

Sio looked at Ratchet. "You're low caste. What the frag would you know about the way things worked and why? We had to protect the planet against the low mentality fraggers like you. You WERE low caste for a reason."

The entire brig stood up at that one as the soldiers moved to the bars to stare at the cell with Sio. Prowl and Ratchet sat along with Alor studying the phenomenon before them.

That was when Fenix stood and stepped to Sio. They had an internal conversation, then Sio stepped back.

Fenix turned to the cell where Prowl sat. "Everyone needs to step back."

"WHY, FRAGGER! WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ANY OF US ANYTHING?" a mini-con called out. "YOU KILLED CYBERTRON! YOU AND THE SYSTEM BROUGHT US ALL THIS! FRAG YOU! SHUT YOUR FRAGGING FACE!"

Laughter greeted that.

Sunstreaker standing beside Sideswipe smirked. "Finally, a mini-con I can agree with."

Raucous laughter greeted that from most of the inhabitants.

Sideswipe stepped closer to the bars. "Who are you to order anyone around, Fenix? What the frag have you ever done that makes you think you can tell us what to do? How many of the heroes in your cell ever fought Megatron personally like everyone of the soldiers in this room? You and your little fraggers are cowards. Shut your face."

"What have your little fraggers ever done that wasn't safe?" Hot Rod said moving to stand beside Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. "What did you ever do that cost you anything? You never joined the army. I killed a spark eater myself. You never fought a slagging moment in your life. Who the frag are you to talk to us this way? Who the frag are you to look down at us? Without us making the sacrifices you would've been dead a long time ago. Frag you."

Fenix knew better than to argue. There was nothing to gain here. He commented to the group with him to stop talking. He walked to sit again.

Sio who was standing by the bars watched him, then looked down the row. "If you'd really been good at your job Cybertron wouldn't have fallen. You blame the wrong mechs. Take a good look in the mirror if you want to know who lost Cybertron, slaggers."

The entire room stood and made their own feelings about the comment crystal clear.

Prowl watched Fenix and saw something he hadn't seen before.

Fear.

It was clear on his face. He stood and gripped Sio's arm. Looking at him pointedly, he tugged the youngling.

Sio reluctantly walked to the bench and sat down, his own anger evident.

The mechs in the cells raged, then it began to subside.

The high castes learned a lot, too. They learned mostly that they better never cross the path of any of the soldiers here or they'd be sorry.

The mini-cons voiced their support as the malice level began to subside a little.

:What a stupid fragger: Alor said to Prowl and Ratchet. :I think a few screws are loose on that one. See what happens when you raise younglings wrong?:

Ratchet nodded. :I think there really is something wrong with that one. He hasn't the sense to understand who he's mouthing off to. Sunstreaker is well known. No one pushes him. He does, though, ignoring normal reactions anyone would have in the same circumstances. That's not normal:

:Nothing about this is normal: Prowl offered. :We have to do something about this before another high caste is dead:

:I think its time for a Convocation: Alor said.

:I agree: Ratchet said.

Prowl nodded as all of them sat down tensely together.

Sio glanced at Haro-n. :This is fragged. You know we're going to go to jail for a while:

:Fenix will fix that: Haro-n said.

:This isn't Cybertron: Sio said. :I want to kill that big mouth down the row. Sunstreaker. Kudon never got justice. I think its up to us to do the right thing and take that fragger out:

Haro-n was silent a moment, then nodded. :Hold that thought until we get out of this. We're going to have to eat some slag but when we get out of this Sunstreaker is going to pay:

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sat down on the floor side by side together.

Hot Rod stood by the bars staring at the high castes, then Smokey.

Smokey was standing at the bars staring down the corridor, then he gazed across the way.

Hot Rod was watching him with intensity.

He stared back a moment, then stepped back to sit down.

:Smokey:

:What?:

:I need to talk to you:

:Yeah … well, so what?:

Hot Rod shifted uneasily. :When this is over, I want to see you:

:Stand in line: Smokey said defiantly, then he felt turmoil surge. :We're going to get the brig or posted somewhere awful. Prime is going to send us to the forward bases for like *FOREVER*!:

:You didn't do anything. Mistermaster was all over you. You were the victim: Hot Rod said.

Smokey considered that. :Maybe. Prime isn't going to be happy anyway:

:Just tell me that we'll talk when we can: Hot Rod said with more neediness than he liked.

Smokey stared at him a moment or two just to make him sweat. Then he nodded. :Okay. Later:

Hot Rod relaxed, then sat on a bench. It would be a long tense night until the morning came.

=0=At the coffee shop down the way

Prime, Ironhide and Blackjack sat at a booth sipping the Cybertronian version of coffee. It was late outside and everyone was heading somewhere, maybe for home. The street traffic was winding down a little as a pair of Watchmen walked past on their beat.

"This is a fragged night. They didn't ask for this but I'm assuming that you're going to slag them anyway," Blackjack asked with a grin.

Prime sat back relaxing a bit. "I cannot appear to play favorites. Prowl knows that well."

"So so the others. I think we all need to go out on the town. They're one jail cell ahead of us," Ironhide said.

Even Prime would agree.

=0=Jail

Things were silent but the few who were restless, Sio and another mech in his group paced or stood by the bars staring at everyone. It was apparent that at least two of them were either so highly entitled that they couldn't understand their incarceration or they had loose screws in their helms.

Court in the morning would tell the tale. For the Autobots, it was interesting and fun to watch how uncomfortable Fenix was to sit in jail surrounded by the enemy.

-0-Later that night: Blackjack and Alor

Alor lay on the bench stretched out. He was engaged in an internal conversation with the bond. :You put it in the white dish in the cupboard, 'Jack. The one that can handle the oven:

Blackjack was in the kitchen trying to figure out what was what given Alor's master chef abilities and the agreement from the first time Blackjack nuked their dinner that Alor would cook, Blackjack would clean. :I found it. I put it in and then what?:

:Put it in the oven at 550 degrees: Alor said with a grin. :Are you missing me yet?:

:Every minute of every orn: Blackjack said with a chuckle as he put the food in the oven. He programmed the temperature. :How long, Ali?:

:Half a breem, 'Jack:

He complied, then leaned against the counter. :Flint is going to be upset he missed the fun. What's going on now? Are they still shooting their mouths off?:

:No. They packed it in but its too late. I wouldn't want to be any one of them if any one of the soldiers and even mini-cons in here decided to get even:

Blackjack nodded. :I hear ya. How's the accommodations?: he asked with a grin.

:I got the bench. The younglings are well raised, 'Jack. Prowl and Ratchet insisted that I did. They're both stretched out on the floor. I think they're talking to the bonds:

:What else is there to do?: Blackjack asked with a grin. They would chat until recharge, then Blackjack would meet the miscreants at the Courthouse for the drum head and the verdict from Prime.

-0-Ironhide and Ratchet

:Did they get to bed?: -Ratchet

:They did: Ironhide said as he relaxed in his chair.

:What about you, Only One?: -R

:I'm going to recharge in the chair. The berth feels a bit empty: -I

Ratchet chuckled, a soft sound in the dark tension of the cell block. He waited a moment but no one commented. :So, Ironhide … you're recharging in the chair?:

:I am: -I

:Is it comfortable?: -R

:Pretty much. You?: -I

:I'm on the floor. Prowl and I gave up the bench to Ali: -R

:You always were the self sacrificing slagger: -I (grin)

:Yeah. That's me: Another chuckle echoed but there was no comment. :Tell me what you look like, Ironhide. You know … sitting in the chair: -R (grin)

[Pause]

:Is this some of that phone sexy?: -I (grin)

:Yes. You always were sharp on the uptake. Hard to sneak anything past you, Chaos Bringer. That's because you're a sexy old mech. Tell me things, Ironhide. Make me tingle: -R (grin)

(Pause to guffaw, listen to see who woke up down the hallway, confirming that no one did) :That's me. Sexy. I did take a shower. Got hot water and soap all over me. My big old chassis. You weren't there to scrub my back:

Ratchet bit his lip as he quashed a chuckle. :I can imagine it, Ironhide. Your big old back. Your big old broad back. Me gripping it … oh, Ironhide … you're one sexy old mech:

Ironhide pausing to let his optics come down from the fritz grinned. :You're one nasty old slagger. You get me wound up and I have nothing to do about it:

:There's the hose nozzle: Ratchet suggested. A chuckle slipped out.

Across the open space between cells someone shifted. "Mechs are trying to recharge here," a voice sounding like Sio said aloud.

"Oh my," Ratchet said glancing from his position on the floor to the general direction of the high caste cell. "Did someone forget to give you your nighty-night dollie? Poor baby. I can burp you if you want."

Snorts and guffaws resounded in the room.

"Frag you," the voice said.

"No, thanks." Ratchet grinned. "But thanks for asking."

Laughter greeted that.

Prowl turned his helm to grin at Ratchet. :Slagger. They just quieted down:

:I'm having phone sex with Ironhide. Have you ever had phone sex with Ironhide? I defy you not to laugh:

Prowl snickered in spite of himself. Movement across the way indicated that someone had gotten up. The sound paused by the bars and a slight silhouette could be seen. "Fraggers."

"Oh, I so wanted you to like me," Ratchet replied with a grin. :Ironhide, I'm sparring with a high caste. Hold the phone. I'll be back with more Sexy:

:Tune me in, Ratchet. I want to hear: Ironhide said sitting up straighter.

Ratchet did.

There was silence a moment, then the voice was back. "You're a low caste. What high caste would ever want to frag you, dirt?"

Ped falls indicated mechs standing up, some of them adding their comments to the mix.

Ratchet considered that adding a new piece of information to the psychological profile he was making. Then he laughed. He laughed long and loud and as he did everyone quieted down to listen. Ratchet chuckled at last, then looked at the cell across the way. "Do you know who my bond is, slagger? I'm bonded to a Praxian Military Elite. He outranks you punks and your half wit genitors by miles and vorns. Suck on that, fools. And may I say … you're a very funny kid." Ratchet then laughed loudly.

The tension in the room lowered as the mechs chuckled along with him. Everyone did but Sunstreaker who was seething with rage over the way they were talking to his ada.

Sideswipe put his arm around Sunny. :Later, brother. Later. We're all in:

Sunstreaker nodded. :Good:

The high caste was silent a moment, then spoke. "There's no accounting for taste. Ironhide is a dirt licking mixer," he said speaking the lowest epithet short of swearing that a high caste had for a mixed bond. "Sometimes you can't save mechs from themselves. They like dirt too much."

Alor sat up, then stood, nearly stepping on Prowl and Ratchet who moved to avoid being stomped.

Ratchet and Prowl both stood with their optics focused on Alor.

He was LIT and stared across the way at the silhouette in the other cell. "You're talking about my son and bond, you little fragger. My son and bond who've given their entire life to protecting the people and world of Cybertron. You're talking about the fathers of my grand sparklings. You're slagging the mechs who've suffered real injury protecting your parasitic afts. It was a step up for them to bond with us and I don't give a frag what you think. Frag you, younglings. Step out of that cell and face me, fragger."

"You're low caste. What would you know about anything?" Sio said heatedly.

"Frag you," Ratchet said hotly. "Every piece of music that our people love, the music of the Primes and every occasion we have came from this mech. What the frag have you done that's that revered by an entire species or will last after someone finally puts you down, you little slagger?"

It was silent a moment, then Sio looked closer at them. He could see their silhouettes, too. "Frag you."

Laughter broke out, then Sunstreaker spoke. "Wow. I'm terrified. Aren't you? How about it, Roddy? You scared of the little tool?"

"Nope," Roddy said. "He has no bearings. Beating up on Alor is like spitting on the Primes. What a no class no account slagging coward you are, youngling."

At that moment heavy treads could be heard. They all turned to look and as they did Ironhide and Blackjack walked into the cell block.

-0-TBC September 20, 2013 7-30-19 12-03-2022