Flashback – “Cogs” – Open
Jan 19, 2012 13:39:23 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 19, 2012 13:39:23 GMT -5
“This gathering is not a sanctioned event.” He was a handsome looking mech, all shiny and well build. Minted metal all... so a new law division assigned grunt work. “All mechanisms present must disperse immediately under penalty of law. Under the public contract codes for Sector sub-Beta, Omega, and Epsilon, all gathering of this magnitude must have the express approval of the law cohorts and the public sub-committee for political events.” Grunt work, meaning the dispersal of a Megatronus support-rally in South Kaon. “All mechanisms present will disperse under penalty of –”
“Law, yeah, yeah, mech we fraggin’ heard’ja the first fragging time ya said it.”
This very loud, very heavy South Kaon glyph-marked statement (every inch a drop-caste’s accent and dialect) was followed by the roar of a jet turbine, a flitting shadow across the pavement, and then a very heavy thud as a red and black mechanism disengaged his flight mod and landed directly in front of the police line. The whole street flinched – the gathered workers and drop-casters, and laborers at the rally-courtyard behind him and the uniformly armed and well-build law officers forming the blockade sidewalk to sidewalk.
The red mech didn’t land near enough to touch, of course, but definitely within EM field-crash radius. Near enough to be aggressive. The whole string of gathered enforcer mechs bristled instantly, blue optics flashing, the airwaves gone heavy with hostile frequencies, thick in the atmosphere as nerve gas. The only reason, most likely, the red mechanism had been shot down was likely because the lieutenant of this law unit wasn’t sure what caste the loud-mouth was. He was polished and pretty, well build, with Iacon-handsome features and a lanky, almost military-grade build.
He smirked like a new-spark with a rust stick.
“And that ain’t right.” He said this loud enough for everyone to hear. “Those sub-committees ain’t available to anyone don’t got a mid-caste clearance so they ain’t for us an’ their rules ain’t for us. We can gather if we want to , mech. We’re all just having a party, see? You don’t like parties?” There was something dangerous about his smile now, edged like an energon blade.
“What is your designation?”
“Sorry, aint got one.”
“Assembly-code number.”
“Ain’t got one of those either.”
“Cooperate or you will be taken into custody.”
That smirk. “You want the name I gave myself?”
The lieutenant jerked, EMF spiking. “Self-designation is a caste-class crime punishable –”
“– by martial law, under the Council-code of caste conduct, blah, blah, blah.” This CO must have been new because he stared in shock for the split second too long and the red mech flashed that grin again. “Sideswipe.” The law bot blinked. “My designation. It’s Sideswipe. Suits me, don’t it? Down to the ground.” A head tilt. "Or do ya think I don't deserve a name?"
"Cogs like you," said the lieutenant very flatly, "are not permitted designations under Council Law and for the upholding of the Cybertronian way of life. Your way of thinking is a malfunction and a fad that will be corrected. You are disturbing the peace."
"Cogs," said Sideswipe, as if tasting the shape of that word. That smirk. "You think we're cogs?"
“Law, yeah, yeah, mech we fraggin’ heard’ja the first fragging time ya said it.”
This very loud, very heavy South Kaon glyph-marked statement (every inch a drop-caste’s accent and dialect) was followed by the roar of a jet turbine, a flitting shadow across the pavement, and then a very heavy thud as a red and black mechanism disengaged his flight mod and landed directly in front of the police line. The whole street flinched – the gathered workers and drop-casters, and laborers at the rally-courtyard behind him and the uniformly armed and well-build law officers forming the blockade sidewalk to sidewalk.
The red mech didn’t land near enough to touch, of course, but definitely within EM field-crash radius. Near enough to be aggressive. The whole string of gathered enforcer mechs bristled instantly, blue optics flashing, the airwaves gone heavy with hostile frequencies, thick in the atmosphere as nerve gas. The only reason, most likely, the red mechanism had been shot down was likely because the lieutenant of this law unit wasn’t sure what caste the loud-mouth was. He was polished and pretty, well build, with Iacon-handsome features and a lanky, almost military-grade build.
He smirked like a new-spark with a rust stick.
“And that ain’t right.” He said this loud enough for everyone to hear. “Those sub-committees ain’t available to anyone don’t got a mid-caste clearance so they ain’t for us an’ their rules ain’t for us. We can gather if we want to , mech. We’re all just having a party, see? You don’t like parties?” There was something dangerous about his smile now, edged like an energon blade.
“What is your designation?”
“Sorry, aint got one.”
“Assembly-code number.”
“Ain’t got one of those either.”
“Cooperate or you will be taken into custody.”
That smirk. “You want the name I gave myself?”
The lieutenant jerked, EMF spiking. “Self-designation is a caste-class crime punishable –”
“– by martial law, under the Council-code of caste conduct, blah, blah, blah.” This CO must have been new because he stared in shock for the split second too long and the red mech flashed that grin again. “Sideswipe.” The law bot blinked. “My designation. It’s Sideswipe. Suits me, don’t it? Down to the ground.” A head tilt. "Or do ya think I don't deserve a name?"
"Cogs like you," said the lieutenant very flatly, "are not permitted designations under Council Law and for the upholding of the Cybertronian way of life. Your way of thinking is a malfunction and a fad that will be corrected. You are disturbing the peace."
"Cogs," said Sideswipe, as if tasting the shape of that word. That smirk. "You think we're cogs?"