The Diego Diaries: Ho-Ho-Hum (dd8 48)
=0=In a highly secured ward at the Autobot City Medical Center
"WHAT THE FRAG! I WILL KILL YOU!" a mech shouted at the top of his vocal capacitor.
Ratchet who was standing just out of the reach of his servos which were manacled grinned at him. "Look, slagger. Just relax. You have three holes in you and we had to replace a lot of slag. You don't want to have us unzip you and do it again do you? I might just leave a few anti personnel mines inside if you make me do this again."
The mech froze, then lay back staring at Ratchet with bald faced rage and wariness. "You fragging Autobot. You would, too."
"Slagging right. After all, my motto as a doctor is 'first, do no harm' unless, of course, the slagger harms me first," Ratchet replied.
The two stared at each other with molten optics, then Sil stepped slightly closer to the edge of the red line. "Mister?"
Both glanced at her.
"Where does it hurt? What do you still need?" she asked in her tiny voice.
The big mech stared at her, a mech covered in scars and tattoos that no one's mother wanted to ever see on their little mech. "What?" he asked, startled at the question and the questioner.
"What can we do to help you feel better? My friends and I," she said glancing at fourteen intense youngsters holding datapads and styluses for taking breathless prose on their devices, "we're part of a medical team. What do you need to feel better?"
The mech stared at the kids, then Ratchet.
:Those kids mean what they say. They're pure. I'll clobber you with a hammer if you act anyway but kind to them: Ratchet said to the whole group off line.
He stared at the mad doctor, more than aware of his reputation, then glanced at the kids. "You can get me out of here."
"We don't have that authority. But we can get you snacks. Would you like snacks? Maybe some juice?" she asked as the others nodded. They were staring at him as intensely as she was.
It was slightly unnerving for him.
He glanced at Ratchet, the others who were watching as mystified as he was, then nodded. "Sure," he said.
Fifteen kids turned around and ran for the door before Coros slid to a halt. "We'll be right back, Commander," he said, then he ran after them out the door.
It was silent a moment, then Ratchet glanced around the room. "You're all slaggers. None of you deserve anything but a short rope and a tall tree but those kids are sincere. Let them help you and treat them right. For once in your worthless lives, let them think they're helping you and mech up enough to accept it. I have a nice array of hammers in subspace if you don't."
Feet running drew everyone's attention as kids ran in with two pushing a cart. On it was everything a mech needed to entertain and feed themselves. It halted by the big mech's berth.
Sil who was then in consultation with the other fourteen turned to the big mech who was watching them silently. "What would you like? We have drinks, cookies, sandwiches, fruit and some entertainment datapads. We can give you what you want." She looked at the others. "Delco, maybe you and Coros can show him some of the choices." She looked up at Ratchet for permission.
Ratchet casually unsubbed a big shiny hammer, then glanced around the room. "Who wants these exceptional medic-trainees to give you something to eat and drink. They also have entertainment stuff."
After a moment's surprise, all of them raised a servo.
Ratchet glanced at the kids, then grinned. "Ask away, Gridley. You boys can show them what they can choose."
The kids turned to the cart and began to fix trays with something of everything. Then the little mechs walked to the berths to show the patients. The patients who were aware of Ratchet's reputation and his hammer glanced at him, then the stuff. They pointed and it was handed to them as the little mechs ran back to get more.
A lot of food was delivered to the patients to be heaped on their chassis, some they chose and others that were suggested by the kids. By the time everyone had a pile of things on their laps, the kids pushed the cart out and were back with their datapads. They opened them, poised their styluses to write, then glanced almost as one up at Ratchet.
Ratchet for his part stared back, dazzled at their goodness and efforts. "You infants are exceptional. What a great deed you just did for the honor of the colony."
The kids smiled at him, some of them with delighted self consciousness.
"We want to help," Meso said. She was a micro mini-con who was part of the second wave to join a few decaorns after the group was created. She was a tireless and relentlessly happy little femme.
"I know. That's why I love you," Ratchet said. "How about we do the rounds here and they can eat and drink their treats while we do it."
They would walk to each birth, read the chart, make their own declarations about the woes of the patients, their plan and treatment and learn more than they had before. By the time they finished, so had the inmates. The kids gathered their debris and made their goodbyes.
"Wait for me, infants, in the hallway," Ratchet said as they walked out to continue elsewhere. Ratchet turned to the patients. "I have no illusions that you're changed by them or that you will ever change. But know this. That we will defend." He stared at them, then walked out to gather them up and go to do more rounds among the elderly.
It would be quiet in the security ward for a while.
=0=Elsewhere shortly later
:Ratchet:
:What?:
:Where are you?:
:Finishing rounds with the infants. What do you want, Granny?:
:I don't have my dinner things for tomorrow. Tomorrow is Christmas Surprise:
:Frag. Tell me again. Are we having dinner at my house tonight and yours around noonish or so tomorrow? I forget:
:You would. Dinner at your house tonight. Dinner at mine tomorrow. Everyone just informed me that they have it covered but I think I need to fix something. When can you accompany me to the grocery store?:
Ratchet marveled once again that the Nightmare Before Christmas Surprise, the hardcore, hard aft, black hearted, table turning marauding Machiavellian holy terror formerly known as "Stick up his aft, Prowl" was seeking companionship at the grocery store. :How about half a joor:
:On it. Meet me by The Bakery and we can do this together:
:Really, Prowler. You don't need me to go with you. The restrooms are clearly marked by signage: Ratchet grinned as he opened the door to the infant wards for the best part of rounds next to the old people. The kids happily filed in.
:What was that you said? I filtered myself to tune out slag:
Ratchet grinned as he felt Prowl's own over the line. :See ya shortly, slagger. Ratchet, over and out: He paused in the big room with infants in bassinets. "Well, look at them."
They would.
Each baby was swaddled in a blanket that made them look like a gift wrapped up. They were so cute he would spend the rest of their time just playing with the babies, most of whom were refugees recovering from tribulations and injuries received out there. Their genitors and families would be glad to have the sweet medic student kids there to make things happier. Everyone thinks their baby is the best and the kids, all of them, thought so, too. Each and everyone of them.
=0=Springer, Drift and Company
They sat on chairs nearby as Sky and another forensics expert explained gang sign to the kids. They were taking notes furiously, peering into microscopes and examining things handed to them by the two doting scientists. Their questions were golden and their attention would put the adults to shame. By the time they walked out they had a working knowledge of how gang profiles were devised and how many there were in the colony.
"We can help you with the gangs, Commander," Pulley said. "We see the signs sometimes."
"I don't want you kids to get involved with them. I'm glad you have the insight now but these gangs, some of them are violent and some are longtime criminals from Cybertron. They'll kill you if they think you're a threat. Even if you aren't, they might see it that way. I want you on my team when you grow up and if they kill you now, what then?" Springer asked with a smirk.
All of them slowed, then stopped.
"You want us to be Watchmen? REALLY!?" Pulley asked with genuine surprise.
"Sure," Springer said as Drift nodded.
Fifteen kids smiled like the sun, then fell in step with the two as they made their way to Ballistics. There they would see how guns were tested for evidence, how they were all different and how the reports were made. It would amuse the kids if they knew that everywhere they went when they visited, Springer and Drift learned new things, too.
=0=Half a joor later
Prowl ambled up with a smirk as Ratchet waited outside The Bakery at the Mall of Metroplex. "I see you're sober and found your way."
"I had kids. Of course, I'm sober. We're on for getting loaded the day after Christmas Surprise. Right?" Ratchet asked as they walked through the holiday crowds to the grocery store.
"Like fleas on dogs," Prowl said as they both took a cart.
"Like flies on shit?" Ratchet asked as he wheeled past Prowl.
"If you're a savage, savage," Prowl said with a grin.
They pushed onward into the store which was between major surges of last minute slaggers. They walked into the store and cut down the aisle with cheese, meat and other charcuterie delights.
"I take it you're making a cold plate then," Ratchet said as he watched Prowl begin to examine cheese and other goodies for the mobs to browse upon.
"Charcuterie plate, savage," Prowl said with a grin.
"Is that so. Then why not make it fun. Let's both do it and check out separately. Make your slagging plate, I'll make mine and we'll let the mob decide who's the winner," Ratchet said with a dazzling smile that hid his battle lust.
Barely.
Prowl grinned at the unlikely 'other brother from another ada' who had exploded into his gray tones lifestyle and allowed him to gather not just happiness but cred amongst the mechs. Had he never really got to know Ratchet he wouldn't have his current arrest record. "Done deal, Loon."
"BWAHAHAHA! Prowler, Prowler, Prowler … you're on," Ratchet said as he wheeled away. "I'll check out first. Let me comm you when I do, then you can and I'll wait outside."
"Okay," Prowl said with a snicker. He watched Ratchet disappear. "We'll see, Loon, who has the most class and taste.
Fortunately for Prowl, that part was already established. The only thing left was who the mob chose to be the winner.
=0=Prime
He sat in his office taking meetings of different groups who headed this and that part of the armada and mission stand down as well as making and taking calls to Earth and other things needing done. It was going well.
:Optimus:
:Here, Prowl. Where are you?:
:I'm home. Do you need me for a moment?:
Prime sat back. :I can get by. Why?:
:Ratchet and I are having a charcuterie tray contest. All I need is for you to order everyone who comes to choose me the winner when we bring them out. Make it a Primal decree if you have to:
Prime guffawed a moment, then sat back with a smirk on his handsome face. :I could do that but what would it mean to the Pantheon? They might not like it:
:I'll take the blame:
Optimus grinned. / … Prowler, Prowler, Prowler … / :I will take it under advisement:
:Good. You can help me get it down to Loon's house when we go to dinner. This is our secret. Okay?:
Optimus detected the combination of neediness and arrogance that often accompanied any contest or competition that Prowl found himself in when he and Ratchet went toe-to-toe. It was sweet, poignant and hilarious. :Okay. I will see you when?:
:I'll be back when I finish here. Its going to take a moment. It's also going to be sort of big. I'll get back to you. Prowl out:
Prime grinned. "I count on it." :Prime out:
=0=Meanwhile …
"You're out of your mind, slagger."
"Shut up, Ironhide, and help me here."
TO BE CONTINUED …
=0=TBC 12-24-2020
NOTE
I was bushed last night (tired out) and lay down to doze. It was the next day when I woke up. I just want to wish everyone a wonderful next few days. Life this year has been a shit show but I feel hopeful because the world is waking up. If this is your holiday, Christmas, then Merry Christmas. Also Merry everything else (or not) including Festivus (for the rest of us.)
I'm old and I've seen it all. Decades of dumb ass BS that in the end doesn't hold because the people, all the good, good people of the entire world say FUCK THIS! I know we will do better sooner than we think. The pandemic is going to be beaten back but I hope that you take precautions while it rages. Viruses don't care who you are, what your life is, your politics or religion. It only waits for that moment when you're not careful. My niece, the covid nurse hopes you do so, too.
I love all of you. I don't need a holiday to remind me. Everyday, I write this for you. Its my love letter to the world. Its for you. You make me happy to know you're there from all over the world reading this lunacy. For that moment when we read this, we're one. Nothing really matters but unity and love.
Our differences are our strengths and through diversity we make this a beautiful world. On this night which is sacred for so many, just know the totality of how much you are loved, how important you are and how glad I am to know you and have you with me. To the next ten years. Believe me when I tell you that things will get better. They always do. Merry Christmas Surprise from me, the goofballs on Mars, Cybertron and the forward bases all over the sector. From our house(s) to yours, take care and know you loved.
Cathy and the Boyz