[ti]Flashback[/ti]The World's Gonna Know Your Name [ Closed | Kup ]
Feb 16, 2019 2:07:31 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 16, 2019 2:07:31 GMT -5
“I was brought online during the Reign of the Quintessons. I participated in more than a few major engagements between the rebels, or what you would consider your Cybertronian Ancestors and the forces of those five faced hovering balls of judgement,” Kup began.
“Those were tough times. Our kind hadn't known a cycle of relief. We were to serve them only, and after a time the shackles were broken. Ideas were kindled, and questions asked. There were even less of us in those early mega-cycles than there are now that could fight back, and even fewer that wanted to. The acts of wanting and the acts of doing are two separate things. You can want Energon, or even a dream,” he'd say. Reclining back on the bench opposite Hot Rod or at least adjacent to where the younger mech had sat, the Old Warrior had been able have access the sections of his RAM devoted or rather dedicated to keeping those memories on file of a darker age.
“You can want a break, which may or may not be given. If it reaches a point, where that Spark of passion is where you must act that's a different story. My comrades, brothers'n'arms fought to liberate this planet,” he'd continued to explain. The colors in his optics faded ever so slightly as the memories of those cycles spent in trenches to patrols into enemy territory where a mech could have stepped on a mine crossed his processors. Those memories had seemed as real to him, with vivid clarity as the cycle they had taken place in. “We had no fancy delusions of what we were doing would be something that could be ignored if we failed, or if the Quintessons with their Guardian Bots and their other Enforcers captured us. The smelting pits were active through the cycles melting down those unlucky to be captured. We didn't even have the cycles to ponder on whether we were doing the right thing. We didn't have a choice. Either continue serving the Quintessons only to be melted down into spare parts if they even perceived a slight imperfection, or to die with a blaster in our hands,”
"I'm not proud of some of the things we did. We did many things that shouldn't be repeated, but once the idea of freedom -- of being able to live one's life according to their own whim had been strong enough even the most vile actions -- despicable in the end would seem righteous if the cause seemed Just,"
There hadn't been a doubt in Kup's Processor that Hot Rod would have borne witness to his own War, with the way things had been going on their planet with the rise of the two factions. If he could at teach, and guide the lad to expect it and to be prepared for it, the Old Mech had managed to do his job right.
"The idea resonated in each of us, even though as a species we had never known what that freedom had meant. We had never known what it had felt like to speak one's processor or to barrel down a highway on one's own wheels without being tied to a deadline. It's history to nearly every Cybertronian that's active in these cycles, and it's a chapter of our history that has nearly been forgotten. There aren't any of my brothers in arms still operational, and I have checked. I'm the last, or at least as far as I've been able to have ascertained that is still operational,” the Tesaran Mech continued.
“I don't do this to garner pity. I wouldn't even know what to do with it. I chose to follow the Autobot calling because of the curse--and legacy that the Quintessons bestowed on us while fleeing in their ships. Becoming jaded as they were is our curse with the constant warring as the legacy taught to us, even if we were deaf to it,"
"With me being the sole exception, there aren't any among us that from the Senators to the recent few Primes to the Sparklings, and the Gladiators in the Pits of Kaon that would even acknowledge it. We can't. It's not in our programming. It is our common belief that what we fought for against the Quintessons had been rightly earned, and it had been a clean fight. There wasn't anything clean about it,” Kup said, lifting one of his pedes to rest on the bench next to him.
“You ask me why I chose the Autobot calling?" Kup said, hoping his next answers would be enough for the younger mech. "I chose it because I want to get rid of that curse. I want us to grow beyond that legacy of the Quintessons, and I want us to be able to determine our own calling. Megatronus' words may ring in the ears of those that had felt discontent, those whom are disillusioned and those that want to pick a fight. His words are the same as the Quintessons when they would bring one of us online. Their words were not words of compassion or understanding, but orders to fulfill orders from their clients,"
"There were even those among my brothers in arms in those early cycles that preferred their words over the idea of freedom, and it often resulted in violent bloody clashes that left mechs bleeding out oil and Energon into the plates beneath our pedes,” his optics narrowed a little before he'd relaxed them. He'd had to cut down more than a few of those Cybertronians, the early ones that had ambushed them over the course of a few cycles.
“I'm not going to say whether their words as with Megatronus' are wrong or right, and I won't say the words of Optimus Prime and the Senate that went with him are right. I'm in this for my own reasons. I can't change our race, but I can be more than certain that if all else fails I can tear our species' optics open to realize our repeated history. I'm in this even as an old Mech who can't find his place in our neat little Caste System,”
“Those were tough times. Our kind hadn't known a cycle of relief. We were to serve them only, and after a time the shackles were broken. Ideas were kindled, and questions asked. There were even less of us in those early mega-cycles than there are now that could fight back, and even fewer that wanted to. The acts of wanting and the acts of doing are two separate things. You can want Energon, or even a dream,” he'd say. Reclining back on the bench opposite Hot Rod or at least adjacent to where the younger mech had sat, the Old Warrior had been able have access the sections of his RAM devoted or rather dedicated to keeping those memories on file of a darker age.
“You can want a break, which may or may not be given. If it reaches a point, where that Spark of passion is where you must act that's a different story. My comrades, brothers'n'arms fought to liberate this planet,” he'd continued to explain. The colors in his optics faded ever so slightly as the memories of those cycles spent in trenches to patrols into enemy territory where a mech could have stepped on a mine crossed his processors. Those memories had seemed as real to him, with vivid clarity as the cycle they had taken place in. “We had no fancy delusions of what we were doing would be something that could be ignored if we failed, or if the Quintessons with their Guardian Bots and their other Enforcers captured us. The smelting pits were active through the cycles melting down those unlucky to be captured. We didn't even have the cycles to ponder on whether we were doing the right thing. We didn't have a choice. Either continue serving the Quintessons only to be melted down into spare parts if they even perceived a slight imperfection, or to die with a blaster in our hands,”
"I'm not proud of some of the things we did. We did many things that shouldn't be repeated, but once the idea of freedom -- of being able to live one's life according to their own whim had been strong enough even the most vile actions -- despicable in the end would seem righteous if the cause seemed Just,"
There hadn't been a doubt in Kup's Processor that Hot Rod would have borne witness to his own War, with the way things had been going on their planet with the rise of the two factions. If he could at teach, and guide the lad to expect it and to be prepared for it, the Old Mech had managed to do his job right.
"The idea resonated in each of us, even though as a species we had never known what that freedom had meant. We had never known what it had felt like to speak one's processor or to barrel down a highway on one's own wheels without being tied to a deadline. It's history to nearly every Cybertronian that's active in these cycles, and it's a chapter of our history that has nearly been forgotten. There aren't any of my brothers in arms still operational, and I have checked. I'm the last, or at least as far as I've been able to have ascertained that is still operational,” the Tesaran Mech continued.
“I don't do this to garner pity. I wouldn't even know what to do with it. I chose to follow the Autobot calling because of the curse--and legacy that the Quintessons bestowed on us while fleeing in their ships. Becoming jaded as they were is our curse with the constant warring as the legacy taught to us, even if we were deaf to it,"
"With me being the sole exception, there aren't any among us that from the Senators to the recent few Primes to the Sparklings, and the Gladiators in the Pits of Kaon that would even acknowledge it. We can't. It's not in our programming. It is our common belief that what we fought for against the Quintessons had been rightly earned, and it had been a clean fight. There wasn't anything clean about it,” Kup said, lifting one of his pedes to rest on the bench next to him.
“You ask me why I chose the Autobot calling?" Kup said, hoping his next answers would be enough for the younger mech. "I chose it because I want to get rid of that curse. I want us to grow beyond that legacy of the Quintessons, and I want us to be able to determine our own calling. Megatronus' words may ring in the ears of those that had felt discontent, those whom are disillusioned and those that want to pick a fight. His words are the same as the Quintessons when they would bring one of us online. Their words were not words of compassion or understanding, but orders to fulfill orders from their clients,"
"There were even those among my brothers in arms in those early cycles that preferred their words over the idea of freedom, and it often resulted in violent bloody clashes that left mechs bleeding out oil and Energon into the plates beneath our pedes,” his optics narrowed a little before he'd relaxed them. He'd had to cut down more than a few of those Cybertronians, the early ones that had ambushed them over the course of a few cycles.
“I'm not going to say whether their words as with Megatronus' are wrong or right, and I won't say the words of Optimus Prime and the Senate that went with him are right. I'm in this for my own reasons. I can't change our race, but I can be more than certain that if all else fails I can tear our species' optics open to realize our repeated history. I'm in this even as an old Mech who can't find his place in our neat little Caste System,”
