The Diego Diaries: Mark (dd7 43)
NOTE: Its been spotty this weekend posting stuff because I'm fostering (and keeping in all likelihood) a dachshund that's 13, was given up by the only person who ever had him, distraught with a capital D and as wrecked as broken glass. Its easing up today. His panting from sheer grief smelled like sulfuric acid. A bit of baking soda in the water bowl helped there.
Right now, he's doing pretty good and I can get back to this. Hugs, one and all. Update today, 7-22-19: He's doing better and will be once he has a few more days. He's such a good boy. It's going to be a roller coaster for a few but he's making it. :D By the way, he's a red dachshund, about two and a half feet long and weighs 25.1 pounds of rippling muscle. Its like walking a pit bull. :D:D:D
=0=At the Matrix
He saw figures in the distance, all of them standing together watching him. They were hard to see though he should have. His vision was astonishing on a bad orn but somehow it was hard to focus completely on them here. He started walking toward them and as he did the scene began to change, the empty spot flowing into another place, a city scene, the closer he got to the group.
He was on a street in the lower levels of Cybertron heading toward a bar that he knew the moment he saw its sign, the one that never would stay lit. He was walking to Maccadam's Old Oil House. Down the street he went, the only one who was there minus the figures who now walked inside. He slowed a moment in disquiet, then continued, aware that there was no safer place anywhere than here in the Matrix.
It took seemingly seconds to reach the door where he paused to look inside. A singer was softly crooning a very old love song, one his ada and atar loved and called 'their song'. He considered that, remembered that there were no coincidences in life, then walked into the place to look around. It had been a long time since he was here to sip brews with his friends, plot strategy and network.
There was the robotic femme waitress setting glasses on the counter. Behind it, the iconic figure of Maccadam himself could be seen wiping the counter with a cloth. Rocky and Zarak Maximus were lounging nearby waiting seemingly for the evening crowd where their skills as bouncers would be needed. The Dinobots who were sometimes bouncers here if no one else was around were not present this time.
Turning slowly to look around in the dim room, he paused as he saw the group of individuals sitting at a table nearby. One waved to him to join them so he did. Walking to the table, he pulled a chair, then sat. It was his first good look at the group and they startled him with their familiar faces.
"Murky," Optimus said to a mech who'd been his boss once upon a time. He'd been a good mech, old school and tough. He liked the big kid who had a grip like a vice.
"Orion," Murky said with a grin. "You're late."
"I am … sorry." Orion glanced at the others, all of them dock workers and supervisors. All of them were good mechs, keeping good order as they did the job without abuse or unrealistic demands on the workers. All of them were well liked and appreciated by the rank and file.
"How's your ada?" another asked, Rosco from the Jumble.
"He's fine," Orion replied. Then he remembered this scene. "His knee is coming along."
"Good," Rosco said. "I like your genitors. Class acts, both of them. Your father can lift a shuttle."
Orion felt a grin come to his face. "He can. He's stronger than I am."
"No one is. You and Deion … I'd have ya in a minute," Rosco said as Murky laughed.
"Not on your life," Murky replied. "They're mine." He looked at Orion with a friendly expression. "What is this I hear about the Decepticons coming onto the docks?"
"They want to steal fuel," Prime said. This was one of the first meetings of any sort of resistance by the worker bees that he had attended, the one that sucked him into the movement.
"They won't, the slaggers. I have a crowbar and I know how to use it," Barker, another supervisor said. As he did, the group faded from view.
Prime stared at the empty seats, then glanced around. Everyone was gone and the place was empty. He sat a moment feeling homesick for their company as he considered what might come next. As he began to rise, the door opened and a gang of big kids came walking in. They were happy and celebrating. Among them was he, himself and Magnus.
A good friend, Tagger called out to Maccadam. "BARTENDER! A DRINK OF YOUR FINEST FOR MY FRIENDS! I'M IN A PRE-BOND AND NOTHING IS TOO GOOD FOR ALL OF US!"
Prime felt a tremendous affection rise as he watched the group go to the bar where Maccadam was waiting. He was grinning. They drank a glass of the 'good stuff' on the house, then took a bottle to the table of something that Prime loved, Visco. They would down it and two more before leaving to go home. It was a good memory for him to watch. It marveled to Optimus how young, optimistic and hopeful he seemed at that age. It seemed then that nothing was impossible.
They poured drinks, laughed and chatted, then Deion turned in his chair to look directly at Optimus. "Won't you join us, Optimus?"
Prime startled, then stepped closer. He stared at the gangling kids who were staring back, then Tagger raised their glasses to him. "Bravo, brother. You always were the best of us." Then they downed the drinks and faded away.
Prime felt a sense of melancholy overtake him a moment, a feeling he never allowed during the war. Melancholy was the ticket to depression and he was adamant never to arrive at that station. If he had to talk himself into optimistic do or die, he did. Always. However, now it hit him hard, melancholy for his friends and family.
Glancing around, he considered going home to find his genitors and his grand genitors until a soft voice behind him called his name. He turned around and she as there, a beautiful femme who was someone he hadn't thought about in eons of time.
She was beautiful, tall for a femme and sultry. She worked in the government, lived in good circumstances for a mid caste and was a recruiter for the bureaucracy of talented individuals. She'd heard about Orion Pax, a big good looking kid with incredible charisma, smarts and tactics as well as a network of friends and fellow believers all over the planet. He was someone going somewhere and she was determined to make sure it was a place everyone could afford for him to go. "Hello, Orion. It's been a long time," she said.
"It has, Omelia." He stared into her amber optics and felt time fall away. "Why are you here?"
"Do I need to tell you?" she asked. "I'm here for you."
Optimus felt the same unnerving feeling filter through him at her advance now as he did then. He wasn't a 'femme chaser' nor was he drawn to them. He respected them but there was no attraction. He liked mechs pure and simple.
None of his family except for one uncle had bonded with a femme so there was little experience with them and their wiles in his personal portfolio.
He idly thought about Elita but she was still a he at this time. So was Arcee and the others. This one was the first real femme he ever faced in a personal even intimate manner.
She'd pursued him trying to bring him into the government to neutralize his growing threat to the status quo. She and others had watched him, noting his movements and the network of die hards that formed around him concluding correctly that he was a very serious threat to the 'way things were done around here'.
She'd found him impenetrable, mysterious, an intellectual of great capacity, honorable, courageous, decent in an old fashioned manner … he was concerned about everyone regardless of their caste, ability to advance him or his goals or their utility to his own fortunes. That was astonishing to those who offered him a lot to drop his 'crusade' and become 'one of us', to 'work out solutions from the inside'.
She also found him among the most handsome of individuals she'd ever met. She also understood that he didn't notice that about himself, nor did he understand nor notice the charisma and attraction that he had for others. She wasn't the only femme or mech who wanted him. Lots did.
He, however continued what he did oblivious or indifferent to that singular thing. She didn't know which it was but it always ended the same way between them … her throwing herself at him promising him the moon and he gently and gentlemanly letting her down.
She was like a moth to a flame with this one. This one was becoming the love of her life.
"What are you doing in the Matrix, Omelia?" Prime asked as she came closer and placed her small immaculate servos on his big chest.
"I'm here for you, Orion. If you would just let me show you," she said. She looked up at him. "You are so unique. I wish you could know. You never lie, you keep your word, you have honor and courage … you're the one I've waited for all my life," she said as she pressed her cheek against him. "I love you, Orion. Love me back," she said, then faded away.
Prime stared at the spot where her beautiful face was, then glanced around sharply. No one was there but him.
That is, until the door opened and they came in.
=0=Temple District
They stood together holding children, stowing children, chatting off line and watching the door of the Temple. There was no movement inside but the priests on the platform were coming down to mingle with the crowd, offer assistance and advice as well as answer questions, give snacks to those in need and offer support of all kinds. It was surreally quiet around the area with the sound of some shuffling, the odd child's voice or cry and sometimes the voice of an adult speaking to one.
Prowl watched the Temple doors oddly bereft. Whenever Prime was on these ventures the bond was muted nearly to the point of disconnection. Somewhere in the metaphysical realm his mech was wandering. Who knew what was happening? Who knew what he saw, experienced or was told? Who knew who would deliver that information?
If he wasn't religious and knew better, he would feel fear.
=0=Maccadam's
They came in, a boisterous gang of mechs. In the middle of them was the champion of Kaon, Megatronus. What his real name was, Orion didn't know. He stood by his table waiting for them. Megatronus was rising up into a force that was clearly on the governmental radar even as he was himself. This one was a charismatic man of steel.
Orion both feared and was mesmerized by the strength and intellect of the rabblerouser. They had many a discussion together about this and that over comm channels given their distance apart. It often ranged far and wide as each took the measure of each other ... good books and philosophy, history and politics as well.
Both of them were pretty extraordinary. Born in slums, deprived of even the basics all their lives, one in Tarn and one in Iacon, they were now the most influential, powerful and important individuals on Cybertron. In their servos lay the future of the world … war or peace, death or life.
Both of them were in the cross hairs of their government, both of them were ambitious for their people according to their different ideologies and both of them were polar opposites. Both of them were drawn to each other like moons on a collision course. Negative and positive polarities, two brilliant sparks coming together in the looming bonfire of all their vanities … this was a fortuitous moment. This was the first time they'd ever met face-to-face.
The group with Megatron were younger less dangerous versions of themselves … Soundwave and Shockwave in particular. The eons of bloodshed and murder hadn't left their mark nor enhanced their sparkless evil.
Yet.
Megatronus stared at him with cold appraising optics. Then he grinned, an affectation rather than an actual emotion. "Well, well, well … Orion Pax. We meet at last."
Optimus stared at the young mech before him as himself. That version of Megatron didn't seem to notice. He felt himself restless that the source of their despair had been before him once and he didn't destroy him on sight. But that was hindsight. He was who he was and Megatron had left here to live another orn. Optimus nodded after a moment. "Megatronus. At last," he said.
=0=TBC 7-22-19
disquiet: with a sense of unease, a slight anxiety.