[Monthly Challenge]
Sometimes, I just wonder... if I'd chosen to go a different path, would I be who I am today?
The most vivid memories aren't always positive. I know that, can't say that I know it better than most though. I'd wager good credits that no 'bot knows just what I did before the war. Sure, there are rumours about what all of us did, and for the most part I'm content to just let people wonder and draw their own conclusions.
But, how many can say for sure that they know I wasn't doing much of anything before the war?
It's... difficult to pick a trade just for survival when you've had no one to help you through. I don't really remember who my creators were, just that they were gone very early in my life. I existed to survive; moving from one city to the next whenever the kindness of strangers wasn't working out too much anymore and doing odd jobs for those strangers who wanted something in return for the credits or energon they 'gave away' to some pathetic, easily forgettable youngling in need.
Most people will tell you about how Iacon was the pinnacle of society, one of the greatest cities on Cybertron. I suppose if you were fortunate enough to live within the city center, that yeah, it was. My first experiences were in that underbelly that no one ever, ever likes to think about. That part where crimes went on without anyone batting an opticshutter and anything that would be illegal elsewhere in the city was just another means to survive.
I was only about halfway through my youngling stage when I was getting desperate. A little bit of energon here and a few credits there were barely enough to get through a few days, and I wasn't naive enough to not know what some others in my situation were doing in order to get by. I had just made up my mind to quote a price to the mech who was watching me from across the street and had already asked me twice about my rates when another stranger approached me, asked if I had somewhere safe to spend the recharge cycle.
My first instinct was to tell him to frag off. Up til that point, no one seemed to give a glitchmouse's aft what happened to me or if I was going to be able to make it to the next day safely, so I didn't see much of a point in answering the question. Still, I wasn't looking forward to another night on the street. I decided to tell the truth, that I didn't have anywhere to go.
I spent the first of many nights, and days to follow, in the city's youngling shelter. They're sort of the equivalent to Earth's orphanages, only the inhabitants were much older than the average sparkling and we were expected to attend lessons and do chores around the shelter to help the administrators out. It wasn't a rich shelter, but there was always plenty of energon to go around to the two dozen of us who lived there and everyone was more than willing to do his or her fair share.
The early part of my life... I would be content just to forget about, but the time on the streets did shape part of who I am. And yet there are still times I wonder if I'd be anywhere close to the mech I am now if I had told the shelter director to slag off.
The most vivid memories aren't always positive. I know that, can't say that I know it better than most though. I'd wager good credits that no 'bot knows just what I did before the war. Sure, there are rumours about what all of us did, and for the most part I'm content to just let people wonder and draw their own conclusions.
But, how many can say for sure that they know I wasn't doing much of anything before the war?
It's... difficult to pick a trade just for survival when you've had no one to help you through. I don't really remember who my creators were, just that they were gone very early in my life. I existed to survive; moving from one city to the next whenever the kindness of strangers wasn't working out too much anymore and doing odd jobs for those strangers who wanted something in return for the credits or energon they 'gave away' to some pathetic, easily forgettable youngling in need.
Most people will tell you about how Iacon was the pinnacle of society, one of the greatest cities on Cybertron. I suppose if you were fortunate enough to live within the city center, that yeah, it was. My first experiences were in that underbelly that no one ever, ever likes to think about. That part where crimes went on without anyone batting an opticshutter and anything that would be illegal elsewhere in the city was just another means to survive.
I was only about halfway through my youngling stage when I was getting desperate. A little bit of energon here and a few credits there were barely enough to get through a few days, and I wasn't naive enough to not know what some others in my situation were doing in order to get by. I had just made up my mind to quote a price to the mech who was watching me from across the street and had already asked me twice about my rates when another stranger approached me, asked if I had somewhere safe to spend the recharge cycle.
My first instinct was to tell him to frag off. Up til that point, no one seemed to give a glitchmouse's aft what happened to me or if I was going to be able to make it to the next day safely, so I didn't see much of a point in answering the question. Still, I wasn't looking forward to another night on the street. I decided to tell the truth, that I didn't have anywhere to go.
I spent the first of many nights, and days to follow, in the city's youngling shelter. They're sort of the equivalent to Earth's orphanages, only the inhabitants were much older than the average sparkling and we were expected to attend lessons and do chores around the shelter to help the administrators out. It wasn't a rich shelter, but there was always plenty of energon to go around to the two dozen of us who lived there and everyone was more than willing to do his or her fair share.
The early part of my life... I would be content just to forget about, but the time on the streets did shape part of who I am. And yet there are still times I wonder if I'd be anywhere close to the mech I am now if I had told the shelter director to slag off.