The Diego Diaries: Clubbin' Part Deux (dd7 343)
=0=The Family Tower
They gathered by the elevator with their cameras and smirks firmly in place. John Fulton, Glenn Morshower and Mick Murphy who were here for the monthly check in not only for N.E.S.T. but the human community itself were going with Graham, Lennox, Epps, Trevor Smith and Gavin Pritchard, the head for security for the Resort. They were going to follow the bots on their club crawl and film it for Ratchet.
"You ready?" John Fulton asked as Pritchard joined them.
"Born ready," the big Englishman said with a chuckle.
"Let's go. Hope you hit the head. This is going to be an all-nighter," Lennox said as they entered the elevator to go.
"I don't think that's a problem I see," Pritchard said. "We're all wearing long mission gear."
Long mission gear was designed for the wearer to relieve themselves into a receptacle if needed. The only downside was emptying it later on.
They would be in the motor pool and on the street in minutes.
=0=On the street
They gathered, the mechs who were part of 'Prime's Posse', the defacto default name of the loose band of renegades and reprobates who called Optimus 'dad'. They came from the metro and from buildings and streets surrounding the junction in front of the Family, Medical and home tower of most of them going. With them came others who usually didn't go but were tagging along because fun.
Devcon and Smokescreen walked to the group followed by a stoked Smokey and a bemused Bezel, Partition, Lon, Terradive and Roto. The group was large, came together collegially, then turned to Prime.
Prime stared at them, then glanced around. "What?"
Huge laughter and mockery greeted that. Then Sun was elected 'Boss Hog of the Rake's Progress'. He grinned at Prime, then addressed 'the troops'. "Alright. You're in this mech's army and we're going to have fun. We're going to get over energized, play golf, dance, maybe get into fights and get arrested. Just remember … you're representing the honor of this mech," he said jerking his thumb digit toward Optimus who waggled his fingers at everyone. "The honor of the entire Autobot Armed Forces is in your hands."
"Well, frag. There goes that," Kup said as the others howled with laughter.
Sun rubbed his servos together, then stepped off the curb to jaywalk to Club Cybertron. Cars screeched to a halt, honks rang out and much yelling commenced. Everyone followed including a much dazzled and highly proud several times great grandnephew, Ironhide.
They were going to have some fun, fun, fun.
=0=Club Cybertron
A lot of mechs were in there and a few femmes. Most were bachelors or young couples. Some were older bonds who were playing pool and cards in the lounge. When the mob walked in, some carrying beer snagged at the bar, the tempo picked up. Some applauded Prime, others catcalled some of the mechs and all of them pulled tables together to sit and get loaded.
Optimus glanced around noting former Decepticons and Autobots sitting together recreating as a united group. There were still many who were working out complex feelings about how things turned out but usually living here in peace, prosperity and choice was enough to resolve most things. It was now and again that the odd elder would rail about one or the other side being fraggers but it was mostly entertaining and not maddening anymore.
The drinks came, some played darts and in the corner watching in a set aside section for humans that only those authorized could use in the bars and clubs all over the colony, a handful of humans were enjoying themselves. They were also filming the show.
Prime picked up his glass, then saluted them with a slight grin. They waved back. He had heard the 'rumor' that they'd filmed their last meander. He would find that film and get a copy of this one. It amused him to watch Prowl sputter about his dignity and all the rest of 'the Prime stuff' as Spirit called it. Prowl was hilarious in full blown protection mode.
That reminded him that a game would be played here on Second Wednesday next decaorn between them and Vos. Starscream would get a kick out of it. Hopefully, no one would jump off the high up stands and buzz the pitch with malice aforethought again.
It would be. Forlorn, the hope.
=0=Up there
"And that's when it all came apart. Ironhide has no hope against his uncles. Those mechs are relentless. Raptor, too," Ratchet said with a grin. "I thank you for the films," he said to Turbine and Delphi. "I have a pipeline into this ramble from the humans and when I get this film we can watch it at the Valles."
"I'd love that. As for Ironhide … little mech is a hard headed infant," Delphi said. "He's almost as hard headed as Blackjack. I had so much hope for him, my little 'Jack."
"We did our best, Delph," Turbine said with a chuckle. "I think he nearly lost a few sprockets when it dawned on him that Scout needs a look-see."
"He doesn't have to say much and what he does say sounds fine," Alor said around the effects of his third beer. "Jack always hustles to get things for him. They like to play things together and its usually Jack telling him stories and tales. Its so cute. I want more kids."
"You do?" Delphi asked brightly.
"You should, too, Delph," Turbine said as he ate canapes. "You might actually achieve liftoff this time."
Huge laughter greeted that.
"Raptor was a good baby and a wild aft pre- and sub adult. He always had to be busy. He was as smart and good sparked as they come but he was always doing something to drive us crazy. I think taking them on bivouac or assignment isn't all that much for raising a kid that isn't half afted in some way. We did the same for Blackjack and for Ironhide. Being an only child is hard on a little mech," Delphi said. "I haven't discussed it with Hardie but I doubt that he's against it. What about you, Scout? Is two enough or what?"
Scout who was lounging in a corner chair chuckled. "It probably is. I do get a kick out of the youth groups at the Center and the infants in the family. Maybe. Maybe not."
A flock of children ran out shrieking around the kitchen table, then beat the band back to the hallway and the toy boxes beyond. Everyone watched them circle the dining room, then run away again.
Scout chuckled. "You were saying?"
Humor greeted that as Madura put Rugur onto the ground. He toddled madly for the hallway and disappeared into the rooms beyond. "I want several more. Proteus and I have decided that four is a good number and we want them to grow up together so we won't wait very long between."
"GOOD ON YOU, MADURA!" Ratchet said as he felt the warm tendrils of drunkenness reach out to entangle his frontal lobe processor. It felt good.
"You're planning on getting slag faced are you?" Turbine asked.
"Oh, frag yeah. I don't have to crawl home. Much," Ratchet said.
"You have to cross the hallway, Alie, and we have to go to Vos Tower. I think I'll be moderate." Miler glanced at Stealth and Corsair. "I will help you navigate home if you want to get slag faced, too."
Prowl's helm nearly unhinged from his shoulders as he glanced at his Ada. Everyone was laughing and he was considering who the stranger was in his Ada's body suit. "Where did you learn to talk like that, Ada?" he asked. He, too, was heading for Blutto Land.
"Why, from you, dear," he said sweetly.
=0=Clubbin'
The crowd was gathering to celebrate the end of Festival and all its solemn denial-based activities. There were going to be a lot of hook ups tonight, Smokey considered as he looked around the room. Youngsters were dancing, flirting and cavorting. He was sitting with his grandparents and his jailer, Raptor who was smirking at him with abandon.
"Let me tell you about that little mech of yours, Dev, Smokescreen," Raptor began as he got his third beer from the waiter.
Smokey snapped nearly in half as he turned back to look at Raptor. "Uh, that's okay, General."
"No, its not," Raptor said, then took a big swig. "Ah. That's slagging fine beer," he said. He looked at Smokey, then his grinning grandparents. "That little mech of yours is a fine worker. He and that other mech moved about fifteen tons of rock hard sand from the Temple School yard and the Main Archives building behind the Pavilion. It had blown there and turned rock hard like sand does when its really fine. He and that other guy had to take pick axes to loosen it, then carry it to a dumpster for pick up. They have about 35 or 36 more tons to go but its coming."
Dev grinned at Smokescreen, then glanced at his grandson. "Is that true?"
Smokey nodded. "It is. Its hard going, its so tough. That 'other guy'," he spit out, "is a slacker. I must have moved 14 of those 15 tons myself."
Everyone stifled the urge to laugh loudly. Most of them would have figured out how to make sure he did, slacking on their end to allow a rookie kid to do the burden of the work. They grinned at Smokey as he steamed. Everyone knew about Hot Rod and him.
"Who's the other one?" Partition asked just to be ornery. He knew, too.
"Old Motor Mouth himself, good old Not Rod," Smokey said smugly.
Partition laughed. "Not Rod. That's funny."
"There's more," Smokey said as he warmed up, forgetting himself amongst the elders of his profession. His angsty teenager was taking over. "How about Not So Hot Rod. How about Pot Rod. How about Shoddy?"
The mechs laughed loudly as they listened to the kid who was emboldened that they appeared to be on his side. They actually weren't. They were on the side of anyone who could make them laugh, especially when they were as loaded as some of them were or were becoming. Sun and Jack who would 'drive' watched the kid with amusement and a bit of joy considering they could kick his aft into perpetuity thanks to Prowl. The potential for long term laughs was endless. So was their sobriety for the night.
"He's so smug. He thinks he's all that," Smokey glowered as Sideswipe slid him another beer.
"How so?" Sunstreaker asked as he lounged next to Sideswipe. "Tell us."
Smokey stared at Sunstreaker. "Maybe I better not."
"Why?" -everyone there but Prime
Smokey glanced at his grandparents who both shrugged good naturedly. He considered that, then went for broke. "He's a smug overrated slagger. He says one thing and does another. He's not trustworthy and he can't shoot. He's not even a good wrestler."
Everyone there went through their personal memories of Not So Hot Rod, then grinned. For some of it, that was pretty accurate and for others it was what it was … scorned lover angst.
"Tell us more." -everyone AND Prime
Smokey stared at all of them, then leaned closer. "He's a punk."
Sun laughed. "Too bad you're stuck with each other. Prowl gave us discretion which usually means sometime and someplace in a galaxy far, far away."
Smokey sat back with a slight frown, his wings drooping prettily around his shoulders. "That's what I was afraid of."
"You could kiss and make up," Partition said as everyone at the table grinned including Prime.
"I'd rather kiss a grenade than him. He's a lousy kisser, too," Smokey said.
"I don't know. He's kissed a lot of mechs in his time. Mech is a player," Sideswipe said with a smirk.
"Or maybe he says he is because everyone dumped him and he had to go find another sucker. Maybe he's pretending he's a player when all his is is a loser," Smokey said darkly.
Prime grinned.
"I wonder ..." Sunstreaker mused. Then he grinned. "Why don't we ask him?"
Smokey stared at him. "Ask him?"
"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "He's standing right behind you."
=0=TBC 8-2-2020
NOTE:
A Rake is a bounder, a cad, someone who plays the field, has no morals, steals and takes without giving back, usually a ne'er do well son of a wealthy person. The Rake's Progress is a famous painting of a drunken womanizing rake who is in full bloom. Google it.
There's a series of TF informationals by a fan on YouTube that explains things. There's also Empress Kumquat who does the same. This one is called Transformers The Basics On and then what the topic is. They had one on Transformers Romance that was great. I love to check things with others. So far, everything that I structure this story upon is canon. :D:D The kid's name is Chris McFeely. I recommend him and the Empress. Both of them are fun and informative.