Noisy Boy, The Steel Samurai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wakizashi_straight) wrote2012-07-25 12:20 am
wakizashi_straight) wrote2012-07-25 12:20 am
Entry tags:
Don't Keel Over Now
who ; Noisy Boy and a short surprise cameo, mentions of Tak Mashido
what ; Noisy Boy muses on his creator and his current circumstances
where ; Cybertron, Vectorian Sector
when ; Some time after the Second Wave Invasion
warning(s) ; n/a
note ; Inspired by "This Isn't Everything You Are" by Snow Patrol
It’s a different place, a different situation… and he is different. Different enough now, anyway, because there are words now. But speech isn’t all the other bots here have made it out to be. It hasn’t seemed to help anything, really.
They use video, and where he’s used to subtle, mute movements, their faces (moving mouths and optic ridges and metal that twitches) practically scream what they think. Particularly as they question him and he gives them answers they don’t like. Every flinch of their lips as he explains what being a boxing bot means. The more vocal ones all use the same word – slavery – that means nothing to him so much as the disgust or disdain in their tones. There’s no other way for him to frame it besides not accepting their definitions. Though they are free to think that, if they wish. He can’t stop them.
He only mentions his designer to one… who doesn’t take that any better. It didn’t help that he was mentioned in the capacity of being Noisy Boy’s first handler. The aftermath of the Rubicon fight…
”No friend abandons his own for losing one fight.”
But Tak did. It was his decision. Noisy has spent the last three years trying to get back to what he’d been before that championship fight, even as he changed hands and moved farther and farther from the American division of the League. Hoping his original owner would have something to say about it, even in just a simple sound byte on the radio, or come to one of his matches. It never happened, of course.
Now Tak had a new bot. A champion like he’d wanted, and Noisy Boy was happy for him. He deserved to win, to ooze confidence in every interview like he had when Noisy was new.
It didn’t lessen the hurt, though. Make him want his creator’s approval less.
It’s dark when he leaves Vector Prime’s temple, walking just far enough out from the Haven to be able to see the stars – dimly, since the light of the Lamba ruins the view like the lights of cities. It’s good enough for him, anyway, as he picks out patterns in the night sky and thinks. The carcass of some monster is not too far off, already starting to rust, but he ignores it.
“Noisy Boy.” The voice comes from behind him, familiar as stars are to him, backed by the quiet whir of hydraulics. He half-turns, dipping his head as McCrane approaches and comes to a stop beside him. They look at each other for a few moments before the Combat Detective quietly turns his gaze upward. Noisy Boy follows suit.
He may never know if Tak Mashido thinks about him anymore. If he regrets selling Noisy as much as Noisy regrets being sold. But he has friends now. And he doesn’t think they’ll abandon him if he loses one fight.
Not that he will.
what ; Noisy Boy muses on his creator and his current circumstances
where ; Cybertron, Vectorian Sector
when ; Some time after the Second Wave Invasion
warning(s) ; n/a
note ; Inspired by "This Isn't Everything You Are" by Snow Patrol
It’s a different place, a different situation… and he is different. Different enough now, anyway, because there are words now. But speech isn’t all the other bots here have made it out to be. It hasn’t seemed to help anything, really.
They use video, and where he’s used to subtle, mute movements, their faces (moving mouths and optic ridges and metal that twitches) practically scream what they think. Particularly as they question him and he gives them answers they don’t like. Every flinch of their lips as he explains what being a boxing bot means. The more vocal ones all use the same word – slavery – that means nothing to him so much as the disgust or disdain in their tones. There’s no other way for him to frame it besides not accepting their definitions. Though they are free to think that, if they wish. He can’t stop them.
He only mentions his designer to one… who doesn’t take that any better. It didn’t help that he was mentioned in the capacity of being Noisy Boy’s first handler. The aftermath of the Rubicon fight…
”No friend abandons his own for losing one fight.”
But Tak did. It was his decision. Noisy has spent the last three years trying to get back to what he’d been before that championship fight, even as he changed hands and moved farther and farther from the American division of the League. Hoping his original owner would have something to say about it, even in just a simple sound byte on the radio, or come to one of his matches. It never happened, of course.
Now Tak had a new bot. A champion like he’d wanted, and Noisy Boy was happy for him. He deserved to win, to ooze confidence in every interview like he had when Noisy was new.
It didn’t lessen the hurt, though. Make him want his creator’s approval less.
It’s dark when he leaves Vector Prime’s temple, walking just far enough out from the Haven to be able to see the stars – dimly, since the light of the Lamba ruins the view like the lights of cities. It’s good enough for him, anyway, as he picks out patterns in the night sky and thinks. The carcass of some monster is not too far off, already starting to rust, but he ignores it.
“Noisy Boy.” The voice comes from behind him, familiar as stars are to him, backed by the quiet whir of hydraulics. He half-turns, dipping his head as McCrane approaches and comes to a stop beside him. They look at each other for a few moments before the Combat Detective quietly turns his gaze upward. Noisy Boy follows suit.
He may never know if Tak Mashido thinks about him anymore. If he regrets selling Noisy as much as Noisy regrets being sold. But he has friends now. And he doesn’t think they’ll abandon him if he loses one fight.
Not that he will.