The Diego Diaries: PLAY BALL! (dd7 67)
=0=The Game
They stood side-by-side in deep companionable silence watching the game intensely while it devolved into a slag fest. Many were the mechs on both sides who went flying off the court to slam into the wall, Prime included. The roar was amazing, the play fast and furious as the teams vied for the right to play whoever won the other game today for the championship of the empire.
The first championship.
:Are you sending slag to Prime?: -Ratchet
:Of course. It's well thought out, impeccably devised information designed to win: -Prowl
:Like Project Volcano?: -Ratchet with a grin
Prowl glanced at Ratchet. :How would you like to go over the side again?:
Ratchet laughed. "Go ahead. You know you wanna."
Prowl smirked. "You got that right, sister." He grinned. "You have no shame whatsoever."
"None. Not when it comes to sports. Iacon knows how to back their teams," Ratchet said with a grin. "It comes with the territory. Team pride when there's nothing else to be proud of."
Prowl frowned. "You're trying to make me feel badly. I can see that."
Ratchet glanced at him with a dazzling smile. "Is it working?"
Prowl stared at him. "When doesn't it?"
Ratchet laughed, then squeezed his shoulders. "I still love you, little buddy, even if you were born a slagging 1% high caste."
Miler leaned in between them. "I do, too."
Both of them curdled.
Ven and Miler laughed.
=0=On the floor
Prime tossed it in, Jetta who was expert at setting up plays jetted it to Chromia, no pun intended. She was expert at stealing the ball, cramming it into the net and strutting her stuff afterward like the bad ass femme that she was.
Maelstrom who was watching her from the Primal Box was borderline vapors during the games. HIS GIRL™ was AWESOME™
and he didn't mind telling everyone around him about it.
Most of the children were in holds with the exceptions being the little mechs, Sunspot, Bos, Reflector and Co-D as well as the titanic kids. Basketball game day was sacrosanct and all attended. Football had an alternating game plan with Appas and Amma, the entire titanic community in pretender gear and Xantium for one game and the next one with the Family. Never were nine kids ever so happy as when they did things with their elders.
All was well in their busy world.
Nearby, the titans watched the game. Tyke and 2-Lip were side-by-side, he standing on the floor and her on the bench seating next to him as he pointed out the technical aspects to her as she listened with rapt attention.
They were adorable.
There were few Seekers here. They were gathering to fill the arena for Kaon v Vos. It was going to be a swinging time with 100,000 Seekers crammed into the arena. The gossip on the grapevine indicated that they were going to come so fast and in such numbers that no grounder would be able to get in.
Springer and Company would be there in force.
It wouldn't be needed. There were enough Seekers there to keep Starscream from transforming and strafing the building.
As it was, Jetta passed to Chromia who ran up the backside of a Polyhex-er and dunked the ball for the third time. Jetta and Chromia were becoming Sideswipe and Sunstreaker for basketball.
Their legs needed breaking at all costs. (Channeling Polyhex, et al here-The Management)
Polyhex brought the ball back in and the game was on. The clock was ticking toward halftime as the fury of the game rose amongst the punters. A number of mini-cons from Polyhex were getting frustrated and it didn't bode well for anyone.
Polyhex ran ragged but didn't break through so when someone tried to shoot from a reasonable distance for their basket, Sun grabbed the ball and shot it to Jack. Jack shot it to Jetta who handed it to Chromia. She leaped up, grace personified, and shot the basket. It went in light as a feather.
The siren sounded.
Mercifully.
For Polyhex.
The teams lined up and bitched each other out to the tunnels to disappear for a few moments before they came out again with homicidal tendencies (Polyhex and Chromia) fully in place for the second half. They disappeared noisily down the tunnels.
The score was Polyhex, 5 and Iacon, 30.
A roar went up, then the halftime reels began to play showcasing the game itself and the impromptu sideshow by the C.M.O. from Iacon.
Prowl would step behind his ada.
Ratchet would wave and bow, mugging until Ravel crept down to slap him on the noggin. Then Ravie would creep back up and take his place with Tie Down, his pom poms and hat with flags sticking out all over it not withstanding.
Ratchet didn't have a chance.
=0=Locker room of Iacon's Invaders
"How's the helm?" Sun asked Prime as he sat down heavily.
"It is still attached," Optimus said with a grin. "I consider that victory."
Sun laughed. "I do as well. The walls are very hard here. I've been slammed into many a wall in my time but I have to say, kudos to the construction crew here. They do fine work."
Laughter greeted that, then they went over the second half plan.
Chromia smirked. "They're going to come out with guns."
Ironhide grinned. "Then we come out with bazookas."
No one was in disagreement with that sentiment. And the best part was … there probably wasn't a rule against it yet.
=0=Outside in the darkness of the evening
They stood on the plaza staring at the arenas. The games were going on and the sound drifting out indicated they were as great as the pundits were saying. They crossed the plaza to enter a small bar down the way. It was lit up and crowded with patrons who were watching the screens with friends as they drank beer and ate bar food.
Finding a niche nearby, they ordered then sat back to take in the scene. It was amazingly like a really good bar on Cybertron that they used to go to so it was like old home week for all of them. They were on the radar of the Watch but only just that. Their details still needed filling in. Their flash, a red smear was seen now and again as they announced their presence here to others.
They were a gang from Iacon that had been watching the local scene to find a place for themselves and their old ways. They also watched Springer and his mechs, noting that there were regular army Watchmen among the civilians. That changed things. Regular army were tougher, shot straighter and on the whole had less tolerance of them then civilian officer. The security apparatus here worked hand-in-hand with the army to provide law enforcement for the colony given the misery their people had endured. Some of their people were still struggling. None of the officers, though trained to meet each situation with the right focus, were going to be shrinking violets.
They watched the game on the huge monitors, sipped their drinks and continued to study the local situation. The gangs were finding out about other. Not all of them were as open to the authorities as the Southies and Coppos. Some of them were more strategic than that.
This gang was.
=0=SIREN! PART TWO OF THE DANCE!
They came out of the tunnels with their flags and bullshit intact. Prime led them with a grin, his long legs and rangy powerful build exciting the crowd as ever. Many were the Cybertronian bloggers in the crowd who maintained a presence on the internet of Earth, chatting and exulting on the excellence of their leader's gutsy move to be an athlete here like he was back on the home world.
Those blogs were as popular as the biggest on Earth including Mama Annie's sports and Cybertronian life blog and that of her son, the Former Pastor Bob who worked his massive site, Cybertronian Sports Appreciation Center full time now.
Yes, Former Pastor Bob was now a true believer.
It would be much remarked in the press, again, how a leader of a massive empire such as Prime would bring himself to the plebe level of sports participation. It would be remarked more now of a marveling at his grit and ability to excel in such a game. The violence was nothing like the humans had ever seen and as they took the court to begin again, the level would ever rise.
This was for a berth in the finals of the championship of the Empire. Ty-R and Prime did the jump, Ty-R got the ball and the rush was on. They rammed each other, then tussled, taking the ball out of bounds. It was then that a VERY VERY *VERY* drunk mini-con poured his beer (smuggled in his hold) onto the helms of both mechs.
The gasp of the crowd, still reflecting conditioning of the old orns was extraordinary. The entire place froze.
Ty-R and Prime dripped a moment, then both glanced upward to the miscreant who was leaning over the railing grinning with a grin of those barely lucid. He had no idea what he did or who he did it to but his family did. Rising behind him into view, the tiniest femme bot granny ever seen on this or any other world reached up to smote him with her open servo. It was actually heard, the blow.
He was yanked back out of view by several shortie mechs who might have been pummeling him, or not as the granny bot gripped another mech, shoving him out of sight. Then she appeared to rise up more into view. Apparently, the mech was her footstool. She leaned over to spy the two.
It grew incredibly quiet.
"Lord Optimus," her tiny mini-mouse voice could be heard saying. "I apologize for my great, great, great, great, great grandson. He's a good infant most of the time. You, too," she said glancing at Ty-R. "Please know we'll spank him for you." She then bowed her helm like the remarkable champion that she obviously was.
Optimus who was staring upward at her burst into laughter. He grinned. "No harm, no foul."
She smiled like the beautiful little bit that she was. Then she stepped off her footstool and disappeared from view. Ty-R, Prime and the arena's crowd raised the roof in approval.
The game was back on.
=0=Control Booth
"That was one tiny little femme," Blaster said. "Mini-con ammas are as cute as it gets."
"I can't disagree," Jazz said with a smile.
"You're a mini-con yourself. You wouldn't disagree on principle," Blaster said.
Principles? Do you remember who you're talking to?" Jazz asked.
"BWAHAHAHAHAAHA!" -all three of them Revet included
=0=Earth control, waiting for the game to end
"Prime is a class act. Remember when someone hit someone in politics in England with a milk shake … was it Nigel Farage? … and the shit hit the fan? They were arrested. Someone poured a beer on the leader of a multi-planetary empire and he brushed it off. Prime is one classy, classy guy. It would appear that the hype is true for once," someone said.
"I want to go there," Daniel Patrick musing on the scene.
"THEN FIX THE PASSPORT GLITCH!" -everyone there but Patrick
"BWAHAHAHAHAAHA!" -everyone there including Patrick
=0=Earth2
"Serves him right," Cam Frazer said with satisfaction as they watched Prime get slammed with beer.
No one said anything as they waited for whatever to happen. When it didn't, they glanced at each other with amazement.
Rick Harris who wasn't surprised sat back with a grin. "You really need therapy, Cam. That's a very great mech. He would be on any world as any species. Name one world leader on Earth who would do what he just did. You can't. Prime doesn't need to bash anyone to prove his character. He has it anyway. It's part of who he is."
"Are you going native?" Cam asked curiously of someone he considered his best friend ever.
Rick shrugged. "You'd get farther if you can get past all the crap. You won't get them until you do. And yes. I probably have. Who wouldn't?"
Cam didn't answer out loud. He kept his response to himself. He already knew who wouldn't.
=0=Game
The brutality was amazing as Arcee limped off and the Earth Shattering Magnificence that was Ultra Magnus walked into the game with his usual calm and almost frightening sense of purpose. They lined up, he sent the ball in, then bee lined over to guard Ty-R.
It'd be a match up for the ages.
"Holy frag. Look at that," Ratchet said as Ty-R put a hard punch, a legal one into the side of Ultra Magnus.
That mech absorbed it, then spun around. He put a fist into Ty-R's face that could be heard in the arena, then the two began to slag it out ped-to-ped.
The game spun forward anyway, legally, as Chromia clawed out another score. Then it settled to watch two gigantic mechs slag it out because them was the rules. Fight equals game stops.
One had a grin on their face and the other was Ultra Magnus.
Oh, and the score was Iacon, 65 and Polyhex, 15.
There was half a joor left in the game to decide one of the two participants in the first ever Championship Game for the Basketball Dominance of the World(s).
Hence, brawls.
=0=TBC 8-21-19
Sorry this wasn't posted last night. My chihuahua wanted me to pay attention and I didn't get it all finished. The new dog is unnerving him a bit. :D