The Diego Diaries: Clubbin' and Stuff Part 1 (dd7 259)
=0=At the same time somewhere else
He sat by the window working on his project. He'd moved a work table into this spot where the things he needed could be constructed while he had the view. He was living on the 45th floor of a tower in City 6 in Crater District 4 and the sight of other urban areas of the development was unobstructed from this height. As far as the optic could see until the horizon curved away, he could gaze upon the marks of his people on the land.
Two cities beyond his, City 1 and City 3 could be seen, City 1 well but only the spires of City 3. They were left at their current name designations until contests on Cybertron were made and permanent names determined. He rather liked numbers. They suited their species, numbers. Some of his closest friends had been named with numbers and glyphs.
The sun had faded when he began and it was darkness now. The glittering lights in towers and down below was an amazing sight. He hadn't seen a real Cybertronian urban landscape since he left Cybertron with the 'Con ship he was serving upon. Everywhere he went here, the familiarity of things was almost overwhelming. It sort of led you to become as devoted to the colony as most of the inhabitants were.
He soldered a connection, inspected it, then soldered three more. The device he was making was coming along beautifully. He had done his homework scouting the situation and making what plans he needed. His special function which helped him in the army and in his private life as a tracker would come in handy here right away. He would deliver it tonight nearby. He hummed to himself as he worked to finish his device as the night grew darker and deeper.
=0=Club-a-dub-dubbing
They'd reached the night lights of Retriarius with its restaurants, theaters, clubs and dance halls. The bar scene and night life here was becoming a thing. Waltzing into The Hot Spot, a bar, restaurant and dance club that was a watering hole for all ages, Ratchet led the way to a table near the bar. It was big, round and could hold all eighteen or so of them. He sat, then grinned as the others joined him. "I'm thirsty." He smiled a dazzling smile.
Ravel smirked at him. "You're over energized, Ratchet. I suppose you're going to make a spectacle of yourself."
"For you, Ada, the moon," Ratchet replied as they began to order. "Keep them coming, bar keep. My posse and I are in town on business."
The waiter grinned. "I hope you don't get arrested again."
"What's the scene like tonight, Predo?" Ratchet asked a medical student who was helping out in his family's night club and bar. They were a large family from Capital City who had run a similar place there.
"We've had gangsters here. We asked them to leave. They weren't happy. My family and I don't want anyone hurt. Coppos and someone else. They have a comet flash on their arm."
Prowl considered that. "Those slaggers are tagging but aren't so well known. Can you call Hauser tomorrow and tell him what you know? No one will tell anyone your identity. In fact," Prowl said as he rose tipsily, "I'll go tell him now." Before he got very far Miler and Bron-E caught him and steered him back.
Predo grinned. "I will. Let me get you started." He walked off amongst the throbbing crowd for the order.
"Do you know everyone, Ratchet?" Amma Corr asked sweetly. He was staying sober. He still took medication for his dementia but was due to be weaned off after his next check up.
Victory.
"Probably. I know you," Ratchet said with a giant smile. "I don't know your name though."
Huge laughter, then Edict grinned. "I have to bring the bond to do this. Dancing is so much fun."
"Let's go," Ratchet said as he stood up. When he turned to go he tripped over his chair and fell flat on his face with a resounding thud.
Alor who was sitting next to him glanced down at the floor. "You alright there, hoss?"
Ratchet who was enjoying a moment's respite on the floor glanced upward. "I meant to do that."
Alor laughed, then stood. The waiter brought drinks, then he sat.
Predo looked down at Ratchet. "You need help, Doctor?"
"No. I'm good," Ratchet said.
Predo grinned. "Alright. Call me if you need help up."
"I will," Ratchet said. It took a moment to feel his servos and feet but he finally crawled back into his chair. Taking his beer, he grinned. "I'd give that a ten out of ten."
Everyone agreed.
=0=Shortly afterward
He walked to the corner and stared at the main post office in City 6. It was night and thus was closed but the warehouse in the back would be sorting and organizing mail delivery for morning and shipping bundles of mail and packages to different cities for them to deliver locally. It surprised everyone on Earth when they'd hear that the bots used mail services when they were so electronically advanced. However, you couldn't send a digital picture to your Nana and get the same feeling from it when you could get it delivered to your tower mail box in all its handcrafted glory.
He walked to the building, estimated the distance to the doors which were open as a truck was being loaded, then activated his 'special function'. He wasn't born with it. It had come to him when he robbed an alien of their tech. Tinkering was his thing and he had crafted a function that suited his line of work. He disappeared from view.
It was not as sophisticated as mechs like Mirage but it did the trick he needed as long as he didn't move when anyone was around. It bent light in such a manner that you couldn't be seen. However, if you moved, you could be seen as a bipedal shape that was cloaked but obvious. Anyone could follow you or shoot you then. His saving grace was stillness. He engaged it now and slipped inside. He stood stock still as the mechs loading the truck passed right by him to get more. As long as he didn't move, he couldn't be seen.
When they passed, he moved again. He crept along the far wall around shelves and bins, then saw where he wanted his device to be placed. The mechs moved pallets of sorted mail and boxes to the loading bay where their truck was. He watched them pass, then moved inside. He reached a bin of mail waiting to be sorted, then placed his device inside. He had to wait again, then when the all clear was assured, he slipped out the same way and disappeared into the night.
=0=At the bar, The Hot Spot
Drinks came, dances were had and a lot of harmless flirting with the young mechs who were here to cruise was had. Ratchet was shameless, Prowl was envious of his shamelessness and everyone else was taking notes.
Delphi who was sitting back with a soft drink watched Ratchet with amusement. "That mech is a caution."
Turbine nodded. "If I looked like him I'd flirt, too."
Delphi nodded. "Ironhide would've thrashed the place already."
As they chatted, a number of youngling mechs walked over to sit in a booth by the far wall. Another group came in a moment later, then found one with a clear view of the first group.
Coppos and the new gang were in the house.
=0=Delivery time
The mail trucks moved out in the night to deliver some of the tons of mail that was sent through their agency before morning. Each driver had their area and they were responsible for delivering mail to personal boxes, general business boxes and other arrangements. They often slotted the personal mail into the various personal mailboxes of tower residents themselves. Some was delivered in bulk to be sorted by the businesses. All of it was due to be delivered before midnight before they came back to go off shift. It was a good job for a night owl.
One of them drove off for the Metro Districts with a nicely packaged device.
=0=Clubbin'
They danced and danced, totally unaware that a turf battle was underway right under their nose structures. The club was happy with partying younglings and adults who were here to hit it with friends. Perhaps the oldest individuals in the club besides Predo's genitors who were tending bar with their usual happy flare were the elders with Ratchet and Prowl.
"I love to dance," Miler was saying. "Venture is a great dancer. Prowl is, too, but he doesn't do it as much."
"How are Venture's genitors?" Laslo asked as he sipped his beer. He felt the buzz. It felt good. Experimenting with 'wild things' was fun.
"They're doing much better. They're having good advantage with counseling. So is Ven. I just love them," Miler said. "I hope Jetta's genitors are getting better."
Elita nodded. "They're better. We're going to keep going on the plan. Right now, they can't talk about what happened to them but they will. It will get better."
"It always does," Ravel said sympathetically. "You saw how it was with us, Elita. We got better. Your in-laws will be dancing soon enough. I do love your bond. He's such a good mech, Our Jetta."
Elita grinned, then squeezed Ravel's shoulders. "You're going to have to meet them, Amma. All of you. They're so much like you … the salt of the Earth."
"We would love it. Maybe they can come to some of our clubs," Docker said. "We would love to help them get better."
The chat continued as more gangsters walked in. As they did, Predo noticed them.
=0=At a mail room in a tower in Metrotitan
He offloaded the pallet, then wheeled it into the loading bay. Down the corridor he went to the elevator, then up to the mail room where the night clerk was sorting packages and mail. "Hi, Dancer. More for ya."
Dancer, an appa and all around sport grinned. "Thank you, Mer-6. Just what I needed."
Mer-6 would off load the pallet from his carry all, then chat a while. When he left, Dancer would have about three more joors of sorting into mail slots and transfer delivery carts before he could do more filing. He would do so with his music blaring.
=0=Club
:Lissie:
:What?:
:Do you see them?:
:I do, Turbine. Suggestions?:
:If you go to intercept Predo so he doesn't spark a riot, then we might have a chance here:
:On it, Turbine: Lissie stood up and walked toward the bar. She paused with Predo, then walked to the bar with him to speak to his genitors.
Delphi and Turbine watched that train wreck be averted, then rose.
"Where are you going?" Ravel asked.
"Just to speak to some friends," Turbine said. "How about everyone getting up and going to the door? You can wait there until we get back." He nodded to Ravel with a serious expression on his handsome face.
Ravel stared at them, then glanced around the table. "We need to go to the door," Ravel said as the subtext clicked. Rising, he gripped Prowl's arm. "Come, Prowl. Let me show you the door."
Prowl stared up at Ravel. "The door? Did I do something to offend you?" Then he giggled.
Like a drunk.
Which he was.
"There, there, Prowl dear," Ravel said as he helped Prowl stand up. He wobbled so Ravel caught him. "Let's all of us go to the door. Let's do it quickly."
Some of those still sober glanced around, then rose. "Come on, Bron. Help me with Joonie and the others," Edict said.
Just as they did, a mech stood up and slipped into the dancers.
Delphi glanced at Turbine, then slipped into the mosh as well.
Ravel tugged at Prowl. "Faster, Prowl. Faster."
He wouldn't be.
=0=TBC 4-19-2020 4-27-2020
solder, soldered: (saw-dur, saw-dur-d) noun: a low-melting alloy, especially one based on lead and tin or (for higher temperatures) on brass or silver, used for joining less fusible metals. a low-melting alloy, especially one based on lead and tin or (for higher temperatures) on brass or silver, used for joining less fusible metals. The act of soldering is to melt the metal to hold things together. Most electronics require it. (The L in the word is silent, though I have friends from the south who pronounce silent L's. I love it. Salmon: sah-mun. They pronounce it sahl-mun. Cute.) :D:D:D