Deceptibiography, part the next.
Well, I did promise I would resume my, er, report at some point. My apologies for taking so long.
I was created back when the war was just beginning, when Windtunnel realized that Cybertron was changing; that the old aristocracy of which he was a part might one day become totally powerless in the wake of these military uprisings. As far as I understand it, he had begun contemplating his own mortality and wanted some sort of heir, 'new blood' if you will, to carry on what might remain of his legacy.
I'll refer to Windtunnel here as my 'father', not only because the human term describes a closer relationship than the sterile 'creator' but because it denotes the male parent that gives only the tiniest part of their time and resources to the actual creation of the young human. Windtunnel created the general specifications for my body and base programming and commissioned me from one of the more skilled shell creators in Iacon. His only real contribution, apart from his money, was the symbolic donation of a very small screw from his right hand (which sadly is now gone as well, I lost the entire arm during a battle a few hundred eons ago. But such is war.) and my own name.
My programming was actually left reasonably blank compared to the later Decepticon models who were given both strict parameters of their function and a lust for destruction. Windtunnel intended me to choose my own path when he felt I was ready. Even my name, Thrust, has several meanings: the reaction force of a jet's wing, an attack used in swordfighting for penetration, the main purpose or goal of a strategy, a lunge forward past enemy lines...I like to think he left it vague on purpose, to have something to call me but to leave the true meaning to my personal choice.
He's looking over my shoulder right now, metaphorically speaking. I do hope he feels I'm representing him correctly, but he hasn't commented yet so I assume he hasn't had a problem with it.
At first I was mostly exploring my boundaries, going to art shows and generally being something Windtunnel could show off at parties. I liked the attention, of course, but...well, the novelty wore off after a while and I spent a good portion of my time helping Windtunnel with his affairs and conducting business while he was elsewhere. Boring but worthwhile, supposedly.
Then all this...'war' business started hitting closer to home. There were public rallies, driven underground (literally) once the government started to take Decepticon loyalists seriously. I had my connections, of course, I went to hear the speakers frothing about how Cybertron was going into stagnation and the feeble, conservative members of our society were the ones holding us down. The concept was ethnic cleansing, at its heart, and I fully admit some of the radicals were a few wrenches short of a toolbox. But it was thrilling to someone who'd spent most of his life around boring businessmen and stuffy artists. It was a revolution and I wanted to be part of it.
Windtunnel saw this, of course, and I will give him credit for trying to give me something a bit more exciting. At age 45 I discovered a new meaning for my name: Thrust, the motion of a knife into a competitor's back while he slept. I was a relatively clunky mech, inflexible and oddly shaped, and few people suspected Windtunnel of using his own creation as his personal assassin. Unfortunately, the power of holding another mech's life in my hands only stirred my desire for more, for more power and more control over what happened in the physical world outside the transition of credits from one hand to another.
And I fear I'm ranging into tl;dr at this point, so I will save the next portion of this for later.
I was created back when the war was just beginning, when Windtunnel realized that Cybertron was changing; that the old aristocracy of which he was a part might one day become totally powerless in the wake of these military uprisings. As far as I understand it, he had begun contemplating his own mortality and wanted some sort of heir, 'new blood' if you will, to carry on what might remain of his legacy.
I'll refer to Windtunnel here as my 'father', not only because the human term describes a closer relationship than the sterile 'creator' but because it denotes the male parent that gives only the tiniest part of their time and resources to the actual creation of the young human. Windtunnel created the general specifications for my body and base programming and commissioned me from one of the more skilled shell creators in Iacon. His only real contribution, apart from his money, was the symbolic donation of a very small screw from his right hand (which sadly is now gone as well, I lost the entire arm during a battle a few hundred eons ago. But such is war.) and my own name.
My programming was actually left reasonably blank compared to the later Decepticon models who were given both strict parameters of their function and a lust for destruction. Windtunnel intended me to choose my own path when he felt I was ready. Even my name, Thrust, has several meanings: the reaction force of a jet's wing, an attack used in swordfighting for penetration, the main purpose or goal of a strategy, a lunge forward past enemy lines...I like to think he left it vague on purpose, to have something to call me but to leave the true meaning to my personal choice.
He's looking over my shoulder right now, metaphorically speaking. I do hope he feels I'm representing him correctly, but he hasn't commented yet so I assume he hasn't had a problem with it.
At first I was mostly exploring my boundaries, going to art shows and generally being something Windtunnel could show off at parties. I liked the attention, of course, but...well, the novelty wore off after a while and I spent a good portion of my time helping Windtunnel with his affairs and conducting business while he was elsewhere. Boring but worthwhile, supposedly.
Then all this...'war' business started hitting closer to home. There were public rallies, driven underground (literally) once the government started to take Decepticon loyalists seriously. I had my connections, of course, I went to hear the speakers frothing about how Cybertron was going into stagnation and the feeble, conservative members of our society were the ones holding us down. The concept was ethnic cleansing, at its heart, and I fully admit some of the radicals were a few wrenches short of a toolbox. But it was thrilling to someone who'd spent most of his life around boring businessmen and stuffy artists. It was a revolution and I wanted to be part of it.
Windtunnel saw this, of course, and I will give him credit for trying to give me something a bit more exciting. At age 45 I discovered a new meaning for my name: Thrust, the motion of a knife into a competitor's back while he slept. I was a relatively clunky mech, inflexible and oddly shaped, and few people suspected Windtunnel of using his own creation as his personal assassin. Unfortunately, the power of holding another mech's life in my hands only stirred my desire for more, for more power and more control over what happened in the physical world outside the transition of credits from one hand to another.
And I fear I'm ranging into tl;dr at this point, so I will save the next portion of this for later.