The Diego Diaries: Game (dd6 323)
-0-On the ground in the … thing
"Where are you going, Springer?" Ratchet asked as he moved to stand between Drift and the big green and yellow mech.
"To watch Prime bite it," Springer said with a grin.
"You and all of us," Ratchet said with a snicker. "Talley-ho."
-0-Nearby
The ogre/troll ran forward toward Prime to 'eat him all up' supposedly. Prime's little mech brought guns to bear and began to shoot. The shots pinged off the ogre as he only minutely slowed from their impact. Prime glanced at Prowl, then gave the word. "AUTOBOTS! COMBINE!" With that, they did.
Venture, Willa, Faun, Holi, Coln-1, Prowl, and Prime ran toward each other and a fierce light blinded sight of them. When it was done, a fifteen foot combiner stood before the little charging ogre. With more finesse than they figured any of Red Team possessed, Super-Mega-Prime-Atron, named by Spirit, kicked the ogre hard in the chops. He flew up, spun, then landed in the Swirly Hole Lake with Warlord and Miler.
Starscream laughed. "More company, Warlord."
"Frag you, Starscream," Warlord said good naturedly from the huddle with Miler nearby as they worked toward retrieving their bots out of the deep. Miler nodded.
Prime laughed loudly, something lovingly filmed by the multitudes and all the cameras. "TAKE THAT, VARLOT!"
Everyone looked at him, skimmed the internet, then howled.
Prime turned the big bot slowly since as the helm he was in control. "Okay. Let's go visit Blue Fort and thank them for their support in our joor of need."
"Oh, frag," Hardie said with a laugh.
With careful steps the big menace walked toward Blue Fort as nearby the now combiner-free Dinobots considered their next move. They conversed off line, a thing that gave everyone the willies, then they began to run past the maze and toward the bridge. "Go to the underground fort," Grimlock bellowed and they did.
Prime being new to such exalted heights swiped at them and missed by a mile. Down the road at Green Fort, metrotitans, dreadnoughts and Supremes laughed loudly and mockingly for some time.
"BWAAHAHAHAHAHAAA! IF IT WASN'T FOR MY MAIN FUNCTION, I'D SHOOT FOR PRIME MYSELF!" -Hammer of Primus having a laugh and scandalizing Consolation who had led a more sheltered and nurturing life, the big hospital vessel. Secretly, he was fluttering with emotions and possibilities as Hammer flexed his metallic muscles and showed his rather fine quality.
Ah, young/old/ancient love.
Prime straightened his rather colorful tower of mechs and began again. Following on foot with weapons akimbo, Bit Bot Perceptor, Wheeljack, Hauser, and Artur with his brother hoofed it along madly. Devcon's bot who was part of Red Team stood in the maze by the lake watching over a metallic hedge. That is, all of the improvements of the bots allowed the players to watch their field of vision on their handhelds, allowing them to see what was on the up and up, so to speak, at ground level. Dev could divine that all was in servo at the moment so he held back, watching his grandson and their fort come under attack.
Little mech could use the experience.
It was at that moment that Ironhide, Raptor, Hardie, Delphi, and Turbine ran out of their little fort and began to combine. Behind them, Alor and Blackjack sulked. They wanted to be combiners, too. A flash of light signaling connection also blinded everyone and when the tower of black botlets finally straightened out, they were fifteen and a half feet tall.
"Prime, they're taller than you. How does that feel, big boy?" Ratchet asked.
"It's not the quantity but the quality," Prime said as he worked to maneuver the big toy forward. That he was buried in laughter and catcalls, especially from the mini-con villages didn't deter him from his focus … to slap Ironhide's family into the back of the beyond.
Ironhide's family with Raptor and Ironhide as legs turned toward the bridge and began to teeter toward the general direction of Prime. Hardie who was controller laughed. "Keep up, Ironhide."
"Yeah. Keep up, slagger. Don't make me carry this team," Raptor said as he was buried in laughter.
Fireball, Edict, Riff, and Rad-R hurried along behind with their little pop guns and swords. It was hilarious and the sweetest thing to watch their operators huddle nearby over their remotes with Hobbes. Standing nearby was Maddow and his family. They were with Hauser but even so, being this close to his cousin without a fight was progress. Ratchet looked around the huge area and saw many a mech and femme that were on his list of those who were concerns. Things like this were good. They brought people together.
It was then that Prime and Ironhide's little combiners faced off together.
"YOU WILL EAT MY DUST!" Raptor declared as he staggered forward directed by his father from on top.
Hardie grinned. "Step it up, Raptor. You, too, Ironhide. Time is not our friend here."
They hustled forward, raised an arm just as Prime's combiner did, then both whiffed, missing each other by a mile. Running forward with momentum, Prime continued onward rumbling toward Yellow Fort past Blue Fort as Hardie headed the other way. He barely stayed upright until he reached the bridge, hooked a ped named Raptor upon it and down he/they went.
KABOOM!
A tiny mushroom cloud of dust rose upward as they came apart at the seams.
Prime, on the other servo, was slowing down until he planted a ped aka Coln-2 into the river which was gushing at 45 miles per hour, spun completely around from the force of it and fell backward onto Yellow Fort.
KA-BAM!
A puff of Yellow Fort-a-tiers flew up, then down, their tiny popguns firing almost without command. It became quiet a moment as Yellow Team furiously discussed THEIR REVENGE off line. They were led by Sunstreaker and included Sideswipe, Bluestreak, Devcon when he wasn't free balling, Smokey, Smokescreen, Hot Rod, Sandstorm, Neo, and Laret. Somewhere under the swiftly unraveling pile of Super-Mega-Prime-Atron lay a number of bots with a vendetta.
Except for Neo and Laret who loved everyone.
Inside the confined spaces of the very tall and not very wide Yellow Fort, botlets were standing upright again. Smokey who had been flattened by a rapidly and heavily falling Optimus-let had a bent neck and an arm hanging by a wire. He walked forward into a wall, then kept walking.
"WHAT THE FRAG! MY BOT IS HURT!" Smokey said.
"ON IT!" Ratchet bellowed. Downfield, almost impossibly far away, a tiny red and white bot ran lickety split with a nautical safety ring under his arm. Heading past the debacle of all that was going on, he bore a flag of truce. That is, a tiny white flag was fluttering on the little pole welded to the top of his head as it ran with exaggerated urgency toward the gathering storm.
Prowl snickered, then glanced at Ratchet. "That sums you up to a tee, Loon."
"Frag you," Ratchet said with a dazzling smile. "I may or not go look for your ada."
Ratchet's little mech arrived, opened the doors to the facility, waited for some of the clowns inside to exit in a stampede, then entered. He tossed the ring around Smokey's little bot and tugged on the rope attached. Dragging him out, he then began the long torturous trip to the triage center. Yellow Team was down one loudly complaining slagger.
Prime, on the other servo, was trading straight on fire with the twins and Smokescreen. Backing out, he parried shots brilliantly and was actually heroic in his defense before Hot Rod's little bot turned around and shivved him in the back with his sword. It was like time stood still as everyone watching froze. Prime and Hot Rod themselves stared at their bots, then each other, then the bots. Then tiny Prime jerked the sword from Hot Rod's tiny bot servo by stepping forward, then turning toward Hot Rod again to grip him tightly. The sword ran through Hot Rod, too.
You could have heard a pin drop.
-0-News on Earth, MCA HQ, New York City
"Oh, my god," the main newscaster said as the panel watching and commenting froze. "That's so … meta."
Everyone nodded.
"The player is Hot Rod of Yellow Fort and he just stabbed the Prime in the back. What a strong move on Prime's part to give him back his sword," the sportscaster on the panel said as he consulted the booklet of factoids he was given. He grinned. "I want to be in this game."
Everyone nodded.
-0-There
Prime grinned as he tried to push Tiny Hot Rod off his bot. The little mech didn't move. They were stuck, apparently. He frowned slightly. Big Prime did, that is. By then, Big Prowl filled with vengeance reached Little Prime and began to hammer Little Hot Rod on the helm with a good sized rock he picked up off the ground. Huge laughter rose upward.
"Never get on the wrong side of Prowl," Hercy said quietly as he watched with a slight grin. "He takes the bond seriously."
"Noticed that," Kup said.
Aunt Lissie who was free booting on the sidelines waiting to choose a team and enter that way, new rule, nodded. "If they would last longer, I would join them."
Snickers were had by all.
-0-Down at Ground Zero (Tolerance)
Prowl's little bot beat Tiny Hot Rod on the helm and Botlet Roddy was stuck and could do nothing about it. He couldn't do anything given that Prime was stuck to him face-to-face. So he did the only thing he could. He directed Tiny Roddy to grip Not As Tiny Prime around the waist, heave him up, then run away from Prowl as fast as he could. Huge laughter rose up, most of it from Smokey of Praxus as the two beat feet to flee/or not from Prowl.
Big and Little Prowl who weren't having it unsubbed Tiny Prowl's not so tiny guns and began to run as well, laying down fire on Tiny Hot Rod's butt as he did. They ran forward heading toward the river. Over the bridge Roddy ran with a wriggling Prime in his grasp. "WHY DON'T YOU HELP HERE!?" Prowl called out to Prime as he kept up fire trying to save his tiny doppelganger/poltergeist.
Big Prime: "BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"
Over the bridge they went as Roddy fled the Wrath of Prowler. Ahead was Blue Lake, Green Fort with the airfield with the big frames and a mob of tinier Supreme bots that still looked like Sequoias even this size. A tiny botlet fully transformed to fly of Cosmos also sat there looking AWESOME! The group began to move toward the edge of their airfield causing Tiny Roddy to take stock. Ahead was the Doom of the Titans, behind was the Wrath of the Prowler, so he made the big mistake of going south past the Underground Fort of the Dinobots. Running madly, gripping Prime tightly, they made it halfway past before the ground rose up, two long arms reached out and pulled both Prime and Roddy inside. The earthen cover slammed shut and it was silent.
Prowl who was shooting constantly paused his little mech in front of the fort. It was sandy and earth covered, silent, malevolent, and had his mech.
Frag Hot Rod.
"PAUSE THE GAME!" Big Prowl called out as Hysterically Laughing Vinn did. He turned to the judges. "WHAT THE FRAG IS THIS!? BRING PRIME OUT! KEEP HOT ROD! PULL OFF HIS LEGS! BUT PUT PRIME BACK IN THE GAME! GRIMLOCK!? IF YOU EVER WANT ON A MISSION *EVER*, PUT PRIME BACK!"
Everyone looked at Vinn with amusement, then Grimlock and the Boys. Grimlock was conversing off line with his mob, then turned to Prowl. "No," he said.
It was on.
-0-MCA
"I think Prowl is having a meltdown. Prime is underground when two big arms reached out to grab both of them. I shudder to think what's down there given Grimlock and the Dinobots had a screen to cover when they loaded up the hole in the ground. Notice that Prowl is organizing a rescue. Go, Team Prowl," the sportscaster said with a grin. "Notice also how no one is helping him."
Everyone on the panel: "BWAHAHAAHAHA! I JUST NOTICED THAT! BWAHAHAHAHA!"
-0-There
Prowl was lit as his little mech stood on the lid of the Underground Fort and shot at it with his many tiny not-so-popguns, slashed as it with his little-diabolically sharp sword-lets and barely ducked getting himself blowed up from the blow back and reverb of his shoulder stingers. As fragged as Prowl was, it was instructive for humans watching everywhere just how armed these slaggers were. There would be speculation posed in inches of printed columns that someone somewhere actually saw a gun come out of one of the bot's asses.
Ratchet who dragged Smokey off the game board into the waiting servos of the techs picked up a pair of shovels, tossed them in the wheelbarrow and hoofed it to Prowl. Reaching him at last, his bot handed a shovel to Prowl's bot and the two little slaggers began to dig. Downwind to the left, a massive shootout was underway.
-0-TBC 4-9-18 edited 4-10-18
A varlet is what Orion would call a bad one. Shakespeare used it and it means punk. Medieval word. :D