The Diego Diaries:
=0=At a bar in Iacon
"Well, we know they're still kicking around. Still self segregating as well. I wonder what they really thought happened when the Pantheon was here?" Ratchet mused.
Prime shrugged. "As long as they do not disturb the peace or foment caste violence I am unconcerned about what they believe."
Ratchet nodded, then Haro-n stood up to look over the table at a group of mini-cons sitting nearby.
"Oops. I think you spoke too soon," Ratchet said as Prime vented a soft sigh.
"I think you are right, old friend," Prime said as he watched the exchange begin in earnest.
They watched as Haro-n stood over his friends speaking in a tense quiet voice to about five mini-cons who were mid range, that is, they were powerful mechs who did heavy lifting both in construction and quarrying. He didn't appear to be intimidated by their solid and broad beamed configuration.
"What do you suppose he's saying? What do you suppose set this off? That's a rhetorical question by the way," Ratchet said as he grinned at Prime.
Prime grinned back, a bit on the grim side. "Nothing is amiss thus far but his bad manners. We have no cause to intervene. Yet."
"No, but you know and I, this isn't going to end well," Ratchet said as two of the four mini-cons rose with clenched fists. "Oh, well, talk about wish fulfillment," Ratchet said with a sigh.
It was then that the others rose, one of them to try to stop the oncoming conflagration, oddly enough, Haro-n's father and the others to abet it. At the moment no blows were exchanged. Jarbo was trying to defuse the situation, then Haro-n walked around him to confront the tallest of the mini-cons, which made that mini-con just three feet shorter than his assailant. And we mean assailant because that's when Haro-n laid servos upon him.
"Oh frag," Ratchet said as he and Prime began to stand.
That's when the whole group erupted in fisticuffs, all of them but Jarbo. He moved back in abject horror at the windmill of fists that was blowing up in front of him. As the chairs and bottles flew, the crowd around them moved swiftly away including a family who appeared to be taking their sub adult younglings on one of their first forays into The Pub LifeĀ®.
=0=On the trail
"We got a call in Iacon. The Secret Garden Bar on Main," Hercy said as they trotted along heading toward Earth 1.
"Oh frag," Springer said. "Who has the call?"
"Substation 192. They're on it," Hercy replied.
"How big is it? What about sending the patrol closest to the call?" Springer said.
Hercy was silent a moment, then he glanced at Springer. "They got it."
Springer nodded, then picked up speed to the habitat just coming into view. They would be gone in seconds.
=0=The Secret Garden
Prime caught a chair flung by a mini-con, then set it on the ground. Then he grabbed a mech that the same mini-con threw behind it bracing him against further flight. Pushing him gently aside, Prime set his sights for Haro-n who was engaged in fisticuffs with a square built and mighty furious mini-con who was a soldier as well as construction worker. Whatever martial skills that Haro-n might have had, and they were good, the mini-con was making up in experience and fury. Haro-n was being backed up in the fight.
He walked right into the vice grip of Optimus Prime.
Ratchet who was nearly beside him caught the arm of a mech, then dropped him with a hard knee jab to his codpiece. That mech fell straight downward as Ratchet stepped over him. The other two mechs saw him coming, noted their friend on the ground, then stepped back with their servos raised upward. Ratchet gripped them and yanked them out of the way. He then turned on Cisco. "Well, slagger, are you going to give up or do I part you out?"
"You can try, fragger," he said as his fist came homing in on Ratchet's face.
Beside the two Prime was stepping back with a squirming screaming Haro-n caught in the might of his grasp. The mini-con dropped two hard punches into Haro-n before stepping back with a satisfied expression on his face. The others noted Prime, then stepped back with fists raised to await what came next.
Cylinder stepped back after getting pretty pummeled by his mini-con, then turned to see Prime and Ratchet. He stepped back again in surprise. "Prime."
"Cylinder, step back against the wall," Prime said with feeling.
Cylinder obeyed as did Cisco and Demetrio.
Prime squeezed Haro-n who immediately stopped squirming, then staggered when Prime let him go. Jarbo gripped him, then pulled his son back into the group by the wall.
"Gentlemen, the fight is over," Prime told the mini-cons who immediately dropped their fists.
They glared at the mechs, then one stepped forward. "We didn't ask for this, Prime. We were just enjoying a beer together."
Prime nodded. "We will sort this out. All of you will wait here for the Watch. They are on their way."
No one said anything for a moment, then Cylinder appeared to be talking to his mechs off line. He was probably telling them to shut up and get their story straight. Prime and Ratchet were obviously witnesses so this would require finesse.
It was then that the Horseback Patrol walked into the bar, then bee-lined to Prime and Ratchet. They gathered around Optimus getting the short hand story, then all of them looked at the two groups, one defiant and short with the other defiant and taller.
"I'm Sergeant Lever. All of you are detained at the moment by the Watch pending arrest for violence and disorderly conduct among other charges to be declared. Stay where you are and you'll be attended to in due course," the grizzled mech who was a military policeman half his life said as his men arrayed themselves around the area to contain any further violence.
Prime stared at Cylinder and the others. They stared back but even though Haro-n wanted to say something his father disallowed it by stepping in front of him. They were lit but under control. The mini-cons were lit and raring to talk. They gathered with Lever and began to tell the tale.
Ratchet stared at them, then gave his report to a Watchman off to one side. When that was accomplished Prime did the same. When the bartenders and bouncers, the locals having a brew at 'their pub' and all the rest were accounted for, Lever walked over to Cylinder's group. "Apparently, you started the whole thing according to everyone here. Do you want to speak to that or hold it for Magistrate's Court in the morning?"
They stared at him, a couple of them stunned into immediate outrage but Cylinder was in control. "We would like to speak to you outside if we may. Privately."
"You can speak privately in here. You mini-cons wait outside," Lever said as the five mechs walked past the others, two of them giving Cybertronian versions of the finger to them as they left. Lever turned to them. "Alright. I'm ready to hear your side."
Cylinder stared at Lever, someone fully unimpressed and fully ready to punt him into the lowest orbit of Mars for circling objects in space. "We were having a drink, playing cards, talking together when a dispute erupted, a misunderstanding."
"What would that be then?" Lever asked as another mech ran a recorder. "You do know that this is voluntary?"
"I'm a high court judge," Cylinder reminded him. "We had a dispute. It was emotional and there was fisticuffs but we didn't mean for it to reach this level. It was something that can be ironed out with apologies and-"
"You're fragged, Cylinder, if you think I'm going to apologize to those little bastards," Haro-n said to Cylinder's deep irritation.
Cylinder glanced sharply at him, there was an exchange off line, then Haro-n fell into line albeit with a blazing hate in his optics. "Please forgive him, Sergeant. He's overenergized."
"What were the remarks that made this happen? Everyone has told me what they saw and heard. Everyone's remarks match," Lever said calmly.
Cylinder considered that. "Haro-n was over energized as I have noted and made intemperate remarks to the mini-cons that were uncalled for and he regrets."
"Do you?" Lever asked. "Do you regret them?"
Haro-n stared at him. "I invoke."
"Fair enough. I'm putting the lot of you under arrest for fighting, making malicious damage and for invoking caste privilege which is a felony in this colony and throughout the Empire," Lever said.
"You can't be serious," Jarbo said with alarm.
"I am. You aren't charged. Unless you want to be step away." Lever stared at him with a 'Prowl-like' expression.
Jarbo glanced at Cylinder who nodded faintly, then stepped back. "I must protest these actions."
"You can but right now I'm doing my duty. Take it up with the judge tomorrow morning. I would suggest you get representation. The lot of you are facing felony charges."
"All of us!?" Cisco exclaimed. "We didn't say a damned thing."
"You assisted in this fight. Sort it out with counsel in Magistrate's Court tomorrow," Lever said as he nodded to his mechs.
One stepped forward. "Put your wrists together."
"You're NOT cuffing me," Cisco said with absolute astonishment.
"Of course I am," the mech said as he shifted, then stepped back. Cisco was cuffed.
The others were as well, then either dragged or walked out on their own.
When they were gone, when Lever nodded to Prime and Ratchet, then left to join his mechs, Jarbo turned to Prime. He stared at him as the workers around him began to put the place back together. "You're enjoying this."
"Again, Jarbo, you would be wrong," Prime said. Prime turned to the workers and the owner. "I am sorry for this mishap. I regret that your beautiful bar was damaged."
The owner, a tough looking mech named Yearby shrugged. "I hate it, too, Lord Optimus. These slaggers are banned FOR LIFE!" he said to Jarbo as he vented his outrage for a second. "You may leave these premises, slagger, and let the others know as well."
Jarbo stared at him, then Prime, then turned away to walk out of the building.
Yearby looked at Prime, then grinned. "I fought with you at any number of places. I always knew you were the one we needed. I knew it would take time but we'd win. Thanks for everything, Optimus. We have this life because you never gave up. Maybe some slagging day they'll know that and feel the gratitude we all feel about you and this second chance."
Prime stared at the mech as scenes with him came back from the past. "Thank you, Yearby. We did this together, as a team."
"Maybe," Yearby said as he picked up a broken beer bottle. "But we never would've succeeded without your leadership. It comes down to that doesn't it. Look at the leader the 'Cons have. They were doomed from the start. It was only a matter of the passage of time."
Prime gripped Yearby's servo the warrior way. "Thank you. I hope you continue to proper with this beautiful place. I thank you for your service."
Yearby nodded. "Ditto," he said.
Prime glanced around, nodded to all who were there, then walked out with Ratchet. Outside the night was bracing, a good feeling against his neural net. A police van was just driving away and the Patrol was mounting up. They waved and the two waved back watching them head out into the night.
"Sometimes it takes coming out and watching the people to get a true idea of what a miracle this place is. Good mechs and femmes working, playing and taking care of each other. That's the miracle of this place that we still can after all this slag," Ratchet said as he walked with Prime to the Metro.
Prime nodded. "That is my dream, Ratchet. That we can all move together toward the good life without too much baggage from the old. The new land ahead of us is where we need to go."
Ratchet nodded. "You're playing to the choir, my friend."
They walked down into the Metro to go home together. The night would continue onward and the good people would continue to do what they did. Those who were slower off the mark would find themselves in jail to think about it a bit harder than before.
=0=TBC 1-18-2923
ESL:
abet: to aid something, to help
rhetorical, rhetorical question: a question asked in order to create a dramatic effect or to make a point rather than to get an answer.
playing to the choir: telling something to someone who already agrees with you.
intemperate: usually irate, angry, something said that was a dumb thing to say or do. Something said and done without a lot of thought to the outcomes.
