The Diego Diaries: Home At Last 3 (369) edited
-0-At the Prison moments later
They stood staring at the gates and bars, their rage luminous. Motormaster and Dead End walked over to pause beside them. "Hey."
They turned to look at the pair. "How many nanoseconds did it take you to get arrested?" Wild Rider asked.
"We were arrested immediately," Motormaster said. He glanced at his brothers. "Breakdown lives in the city with that rat bastard, Knockout. He's a medic in the hospital. I've seen him around."
Wild Rider considered that a moment, then nodded. "We need to talk to him. He owes us. We're related, right?"
"Good luck with that," Dead End said with a bitter expression. "He got religion or something. Not that it matters. Nothing is going to-"
That was as far as he got before Drag Strip laid him out on the ground.
-0-Bosom, Inc.
They tip-toed out of the last infant room as best that huge mechanisms could and paused in the living room. The last one was laying on the couch fussing. "That one is having a breakdown. What do you want to do?" Ratchet asked already knowing the answer.
"Maybe he can recharge in our room," Ironhide said picking up the tiny tyke. Prowler stopped fussing and smiled gigantically, his little chevron glistening. "Aw. He's happy to see me."
"I can see that," Ratchet said with a grin. "He's that end of the scale."
"He is. You have to watch him when I'm on duty. Figure out his preferences so I can bring him the kind of toys or stuff that he likes. I can target that and help him fulfill himself," Ironhide said smiling at the infant in his servos. "Mech needs what a mech needs."
"I will be all optics and audials. Right now, he likes sitting up and grinning. That doesn't cost a shanix," Ratchet said.
"Ha-ha, Ratchet," Ironhide said turning. He walked to their berth room placing the baby on the berth. Turning, he walked to the big closet and opened it. Inside, there were guns out the wazoo, boxes of ammo that were stacked with precision, war gear of all manner and makes and 'Ratchet's Stuff'. He reached up in the shelf above Ratchet's (neatly stacked) Stuff and pulled down a little box. It was the first bed of Orion which Ironhide insisted upon saving because 'it's a family heirloom, Ratchet' and therefore worthy of veneration. Turning, he pulled a chair away from its place by the window and set it beside his side of the berth. Placing the box bed on it, he turned and took the 'Orion Set of Blankets and Pillows' from Ratchet, arranging them expertly for the infant.
Ratchet sat and watched the incongruencies unfolding before him. One of the most feared and dangerous Autobots was making a nest for his infant. That the said infant resembled them only in facial features but was a dead ringer for the uptight whiner in Ops Center was part of the fun. The tiny door wings delighted Ratchet every time he handled the infant. They were so tiny, so utterly cute he smiled to look at them.
Hero and Prowler were the first mechanisms in his family ever to have wings. Wings were a feature usually reserved for higher castes. Lower ones seldom got the opportunity to work with information. Thus, they were considered superfluous. Ironhide turned and picked up Prowler, the infant smiling gigantically at him again. Then he settled the baby, covering him up, putting his Little Blue Dog dollie with him. Then he moved to sit on the bed. Glancing at the baby, then Ratchet, Ironhide grinned. "Wanna frag?"
"And give sparkling a complex?" Ratchet said leaning against Ironhide's shoulder tiredly.
"Got a point." Ironhide sat for a moment, images of Springer coming into his processor. Then he fire walled it off. "Best hit the hay. Could be a war tomorrow for all we know."
Ratchet nodded. "What are you hiding, Ironhide?"
Ironhide schooled his face to blandness. "I don't know what you mean."
They glanced at each other, then both grinned. "Good night," they said to each other as they rose to walk to their side of the berth. They hit the hay and fell into recharge right away. Prowler would take longer. He basked in the energy of his genitors next to him with pleasure. At last, a mech could unwind.
-0-In an apartment elsewhere
They sat together on the couch, an action movie playing with the sound off. They had gotten good high grade, their label at the store along with enough of their favorite junk-type food to founder an oxen. They had sat down, programmed a number of action flicks and began to drink. By the time the first one was over, they were feeling no pain.
"You're losing a step or two, mech."
"I know. Must be your influence," Drift replied. "I used to be tougher."
"I know. You're getting soft," Springer said passing the 'hot wings' over to his partner. Taking his bottle, he took a deep drink. "I don't know. Might have to find a replacement if you keep it up. I have an image to protect. SPRINGER! KING OF THE WRECKERS!"
Drift paused his bottle and glanced at his bond. "King?"
"I would have said emperor but I thought it would sound pretentious," Springer said with a chuckle. "You know the four rules of Wrecking."
"I do?" Drift asked.
"Sure." It was quiet a moment as they watched Bruce Willis pretend he wasn't pushing sixty and knew what he was doing. "That man should be dead," Springer said as he watched Willis get punched. "That would dent my plating but look at him. He's still alive. That man's fist should have popped out the back of his head."
"I know," Drift said nodding. "They act like they're armored. Maybe they don't know the four rules of wrecking." Drift grinned as he glanced at Springer, his handsome profile giving him the same tingle it did the first time he saw it.
"They don't," Springer said nodding. He was quiet a moment, then looked at Drift. "But you do. That's why you're so amazing." His words were slightly slurred. "You know them." He returned to watching Bruce Willis pretending to be a tough guy beating off nearly a battalion of bad guys all by himself.
Barefooted.
"I know them?" Drift asked putting the empty container of 'hot wings' on the coffee table. He sat back and hugged his bottle.
"I think so. Maybe," Springer said. "Did you see Sharknado on the SyFy channel? Now that was a movie."
"Sharknado," Drift said with a snort. He chuckled. "You do know that they make those movies that bad on purpose because they want to replicate drive-in movies from the old days." He grinned rather woozily. "I don't know what any of that means but I thought I would tell ya."
"That's because you're good," Springer said with feeling. He grinned. "I think I'm drunk."
"You are. I'm not drunk enough. I think I need another bottle," Drift said looking at his own.
"Here," Springer said handing him another. He settled more comfortably on the couch, nearly sprawling over into Drift. "This is better. Earth is fun and slagging the 'Cons is good but I like it here."
"Yeah, I'm getting used to the place myself." Drift drowsed, then glanced at Springer. "I heard you were too big to come down into the hole."
"I was. You're shorter than me." It was quiet a moment. "I think I'm better looking too." Springer grinned.
Drift grinned. "You might be. You're taller."
They both chuckled. "Taller and better looking. Can it get better than that?" Springer asked glancing at Drift.
"I think it can. I hear you asked Ironhide to adopt you."
Springer grinned. "I did. I also told him not to tell Ratchet."
"Good. I love Ratchet. Let him find out on his own." It was quiet a moment. "You will be the older brother of a lot of younger ones." Pause. "You will be the slightly taller, better looking older brother of the twins."
Pause.
"Damn." Springer glanced at Drift. "That's going to be fun. Those two are maniacs."
"You know … at this rate, Ratchet and Ironhide are going to be genitors of the whole slagging army," Drift said with a big boozy grin. "I find that this side of awesome."
Springer chuckled. "I know. It will make Christmas Surprise more interesting."
"I know. You will be the former Mrs. Optimus Prime AND the adopted son of the genitors of the twins who are related to Prime somehow. I forget how," Drift said. "Look at that." Willis had slaughtered an army of bad guys, ran across broken glass barefooted, then paused, his blood splattered face registering only a small portion of the abuse he had taken. "That man is a poseur."
"He is." Drift looked at the screen with a nod.
"He would be dead."
"He would," Drift said being the supportive bond.
"He would be a smear under my ped if I was there."
"He would be," Drift said nodding. "You would show him. You have four rules."
Springer stared a moment, then laughed out loud. "I do! I have four fragging rules." He glanced at Drift with a grin. "Glad to have ya back, slagger. Don't do this again."
"Good to be back. I won't." Drift grinned and picked up a box of 'donuts'. Passing it to Springer who helped himself, he took it back and began to nosh. "By the way, what is that thing about rules?"
Springer took a big drink of his brew. "I can't remember."
They both laughed together. Then they both laughed at Bruce Willis.
-0-Trine
They sat together on the couch watching a movie together. It was Battleship, a movie about a game that was mucho popular on Mars and at Diego Garcia. Blue was sprawled across the laps of the two big front liners sharing a bottle between the three of them. Sideswipe had passed inspection and beyond bitching about a couple of scratches in his finish, he was fine.
When the two had come home the joy of the infants was almost overpowering. Dawg had even gotten up to waddle over for a scratch and a pet.
"ADA!" Kaon hopped around in joy when Sunstreaker came through the door. Sideswipe was in the berth room finishing up a shower. Bluestreak had gotten the infants while Sunstreaker brought home dinner. When the babies saw him come through the door, they exploded with joy. Sunstreaker knelt and hugged Kaon, the tiny mech hugging back. "ADA! ADA! ADA! YOU CAMED!"
Sunstreaker grinned and rose staring at his son. "Came, baby. We came."
Kaon smiled brilliantly, then cuddled against Sunstreaker. Sunny looked down to see two little femmes dancing too. He knelt and drew them close. "Babies," he whispered. "I love you."
"ADA! You!" Uraya said with joy. Iacon leaned into Sunstreaker, holding him closely. "Ada," she said with happiness.
They had played together, sitting on the floor with toys and Dawg. Cookies were had. Games were played. Dinner was finished. When it was time, the infants were washed, books were read and everyone tucked into their cribs. The rest of the evening was theirs.
"Sideswipe, what did you see down there? How many Insecticons?" Blue asked as he looked up at the red and black mech holding him.
"Lots, Babe. Too many. They must have brought a bunch of them when they came with Megatron. More than I've seen outside of the frontier or Cybertron," Sideswipe said. "They were mostly in stasis. They'd been there a long time."
"This won't be good. I hope they don't hit another base. The humans are mad enough about things. They sent demands for Ratchet to come and speak at hearings," Bluestreak said.
"Ratchet will ace it," Sunstreaker said as he watched big rolling fire balls fly out of ships toward sea vessels. "Ada will handle it."
"He will. If he needs someone handsome to go with him, I volunteer," Sideswipe said winking at Blue.
Sunstreaker glanced at him. "Yeah. Handsome."
A fist punched Sunstreaker. "Handsome, Sunny," Sideswipe said.
Sunstreaker leaned back pulling Bluestreak's peds into his lap. He rubbed Blue's feet as he relaxed back into the cushions of the couch. "We'll both go. You need a keeper, Sideswipe."
Sideswipe snorted. "Yeah. What a great help you were."
Sunstreaker smirked. "Frag you, Sideswipe."
Sideswipe smirked too. "Back at ya, brother."
Bluestreak punched both of them.
-0-At the Prison
"I heard that there are more dangerous 'Cons in the prison. I heard that we have all the Stunticons on Mars now."
Decimus glanced at Ratbat. "That's not good. That combiner is malicious. Its evil as hell."
"They all are. Menasor is a killer and nothing more. He's bad even for a combiner," Ratbat said. "There is one loose in the city ... Breakdown I think he's called."
"If they ever get together, it could be interesting," Decimus said relaxing on his chair on the porch of the barracks. "Which block are they in?"
Ratbat looked over to the northeast. "Over there."
They both looked at the cell block in question. "I'm glad we're here and not there," Decimus said quietly. "Those maniacs are scary."
Ratbat nodded. "I hope they tear this place apart."
Decimus looked at the malicious mini-con sitting next to him, then grinned slightly. "I hope he starts with you."
-0-TBC July 17, 2013
NOTES: Springer's Four Rules of Wrecking
1: Stick Together
2: Be Calm
3: Don't Make It Personal
4: Always Focus On The Positive*
*The Last Stand of the Wreckers