The Diego Diaries Part 3 Chapter 400, a transformers fanfic

The Diego Diaries: Footbawl 2 (400) FOUR HUNDRED! YAY! Uh, sorry. :}

-0-At the game

The tumult was intense as the team absorbed their first score. Sunstreaker had set the tone and they were determined to follow it to the bitter, bitter end. The Vos team were snorting smoke and fire as they slapped each other on the aft and helm in the way that all football players in all worlds do when they fuck up.

-0-Nice home, Earth

"Wow, Sunstreaker is awesome, Grandma!" Pastor Bobby Jr. smiled at his granny who was smiling at the screen.

"That is a Lamborghini for you. I saw them make an Aventador on the Discovery Channel the other day. They can go very fast," she said sweetly. "Over 600 horsepower with 680 maximum torque."

Everyone stared at her in surprise but Grandpa Leonard who had appreciated her help when he timed his truck in their shop the day before. She smiled sweetly back. "Research," she said.

"Ah," they said. Bookmarks and searches began in between plays.

-0-Bar in Cally

"Holy fuck! That car just spiral jumped, landed and spiral jumped again. My truck can barely survive a pothole." -Man A

"Your truck is a hog." -Man B

"My truck is a good old truck. It isn't a Topkick but it can kick your ass any day of the week." -Man A who is feeling the vodka

"Bet me." -Man B, feeling the beer

"Shut up. They're kicking off again. Or whatever the hell it is that they do." -Man C, feeling the Harvey Wallbangers

-0-A pub in Scotland

"Aye, I agree."

"That man ya work for … that idiot with the money? Does he have a Lamborghini in his collection?"

"Nope. He has an Austin Martin and a Range Rover. At least he does here. What he has in London, I don't know."

Pause.

"Let's take the Austin Martin out after the game. I want to see if it can jump too."

"Good idea. I haven't been arrested in a while. Do ya think the game will be a good court defense?"

"No."

"Me either."

Both click glasses. Game kicks off.

-0-Cindy and Lola Teasdale, of the New Jersey Teasdales standing on the platform at the mid field line

"SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE."

-0-An equine school in the north of England

There you have it. SQUEE! is the interplanetary word for football.

-0-On the field

"HUT!"

"HUT YOURSELF, SLAGGERS!" -Vos Center still having a moment

The ball was tossed and the centers jumped, Vos coming down with the ball. Kaon's defensive line surged and caught the center on the way back down carrying him in a flying wedge of malice and fury fifteen yards that-a-way. That met the staggering and infuriated offensive line of Vos who pushed back.

It turned into a scrum, the entire team lines of both sides grabbing their closest teammate to make a giant turtle shaped interlocked mechanism of scrimmage, pushing like fury against the other side who did the same thing back. Sticking up, the only recognizable figure there was the Vos Center who rode to and fro with the lines as they surged and fell back, sticking up like a sore thumb as he screamed his helm off.

Back and forth the mass shifted, the center clutching the ball as he was carried here and there over the center line. As the teams got more physical, their punches and kicks visible, they staggered to the sideline and stepped out of bounds.

The only one happy about it was the squished utterly pissed off center. A lot of slapping and swearing occurred for a moment, then Vos gathered to put the ball in play. Kaon enjoying the chaos turned and began to organize a take over of the ball. Towers went up, fast slaggers like Sideswipe and a bot named Cozi stunted around them as the Vos center looked at his own players trying to decide who would get slagged when he threw the ball. He was torn between the right winger who was his bond and the rest of the dipshits who let him get squished.

He passed to his bond.

A Kaon tower fell on him.

The ball was in play.

Kaon grabbed it.

That player was flattened, the ball went out of bounds, the Vos bench nearly emptied, the stands went crazy, the horns of two bots honked due to a minor internal glitch and the referees went ped-to-ped with the center of both teams.

Mayhem ensued.

-0-In the Prime's area

Optimus Prime stood with Rambler in his arms watching the hoo-haw on the field. He couldn't show a preference even though he hoped that Kaon would win. He after all was a loyal slagger. He glanced at Prowl who was screaming his aft off, a totally uncharacteristic and utterly handsome thing for him to do. Ratchet was screaming too, a totally characteristic and rather adorably cute thing for him to do.

The infants were screaming for Kaon and Sideswipe. The in-laws were screaming for Sideswipe and Kaon. His own genitors were standing together discussing the game's 'tactics' with extremely happy expressions. His spark nearly melted. No matter what happened, he was going to be the hammer to Megatron's helm. He could do anything now that he had his family around him.

"GET UP, SIDESWIPE! BRING HOME THE BACON!" Ratchet was hollering.

"GET UP, SIDESWIPE! YOU BETTER WIN THIS ONE! BEAT IACON OUT OF A WILDCARD!" Prowl was hollering.

Ratchet looked at Prowl, then slapped the back of his helm. Prowl turned and slapped Ratchet's face. A slap fight lasted a moment before the astonished expression on Miler and Venture's face ended it. Prowl and Ratchet looked at them, then each other. Then they burst into laughter. As one, they turned and hollered: "GO, KAON/VOS! BEAT THEM! PRAXUS/IACON NEEDS YOU TO WIN!"

Even Ravel shook his helm. Prime merely laughed his off.

-0-In play

They lined up again, this time the ins would be from Kaon. Sideswipe had the ball and was looking for an opening in the mass of Vos players who eschewed towers and went straight forward with grasping servos and murderous expressions of revenge and mayhem. He found an opening and threw it to Sunstreaker who turned and jumped over the top of a Vos forward who stood looking up at the big yellow bot as he soared. Turning, putting the metal to the pedal himself, he roared after Sunstreaker as everyone on the field burst into speed.

Sideswipe ran along the sideline watching Sunstreaker as he sped toward the goal. Then he jumped and passed the ball backward to his brother who caught it. Sideswipe turned and ran backward heading toward the inner field passing it backwards to his fellow wing, Cozi. Cozi ran forward and threw it to Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker ran back and threw it to Sideswipe. Sideswipe caught it and dunked the sumbitch into the hoop. The goalie rose but it was too late.

Score.

That was when a brawl broke out in the stands.

-0-Slagger fight in the stands which played in 75 foot tall hi-def on the jumbotron

Standing nearby watching with great amusement and not a little bit of intense personal sexiness, Drift and Springer kept up a running commentary about the game. Back and forth in the scrum, they discussed the number of times the Vos center's helm bounced off the backs of the turtle as he was carried about trapped. Then the conversation turned to the most recent play which had culminated in a score for Kaon.

Being from Altihex, Springer had no trouble with Kaon's effort. His team had been eliminated earlier so he was resigned to being a loser. Drift on the other servo was from Kaon and had been hard to live with for some time when this subject came up. He was even for a very Zen bot intolerable now. "Fragger. Look at that," Springer said as Kaon scored. "Slagging twin."

"Those twins rule," Drift said as he squeezed Springer's shoulders. "You look adorable when you pout."

"I look adorable all the time," Springer teased. "You mean I look MORE adorable than usual."

"Didn't I just say that?" Drift asked as the sounds of mayhem nearby drew their attention.

A fight had broken out in the stands.

They turned and hurried forward following a mass of Day and Night Watch security up the steps into the writhing mass of Vos and Iacon supporters slagging it out. Interestingly enough, Kaon supporters were standing nearby watching with great relish at the losers brawling. Although they were goading the two sides to beat each other to a pulp, goading wasn't a crime.

Yet.

Reaching in to pull out two mini-cons who hung in his grip swinging their fists ineffectually, Drift watched as Springer thumped helms. "ENOUGH!" he said in a loud voice.

At that point, a massive fist hit Springer full on the face. He stood a moment stunned, then fell backwards off his peds. Drift caught off guard tossed the mini-cons in his servos over his shoulders the same way someone might toss a hat coming into their home. They flew backwards and face planted into the ground behind the Vos bench.

Drift spread his arms just in time to catch a flying Springer. Dead weight weighing him down, his footing slipped so both fell backward cartwheeling out of the stands.

Kup who had come up on the other side gripping mechs of his own dropped them and subbed a gun. A shot went out and everyone stopped turning to stare at him with surprise and deep loathing. "STOP OR I'LL SHOOT SOMEONE!"

They stopped.

Their fists.

Their mouths kept going.

That is, they did until a strategically placed fist ended that.

Sitting in the booth, Blaster and Jazz laughed joking together at the mayhem in the bleachers. Revet who was thinking big picture wanted to slap everyone involved on the noggin. Forgetting his mike was linked in, he turned on the two in camera view. "I don't think this is funny. What will the humans think of us?"

"Who cares, Revet?" Blaster said turning to grin at his bond. "This is football!*"

Thus, a new catch phrase was coined (*tm).

"Besides," Jazz said with a grin. "Check out the Prime."

The camera focused on Prime who was holding both Rambler and T-Bar. They were looking at the brawl with big grins.

All of them.

"See?" Blaster said looking at his bond.

"Well, I don't approve, Blaster," Revet said rather primly. He turned back to his panel.

Jazz and Blaster grinned.

So did 6,999,999,999 humans. A small pocket at Bob Jones University had other opinions.

-0-Scotland

"I agree with Jazz and Blaster." -general consensus

-0-Bar in Cally

"I agree (hic!) with Blazz and Jaster." -general consensus

-0-At various army bases around Earth including Diego Garcia

"SEMPER FI!"

"HOLY SHIT! YEAH!"

"MERDE! JE SUIS BIEN D'ACCORD!"

"FRAG YA! GO MAYHEM!"

"BOO-YAH! NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M *TALKING* ABOUT!"

"I say... that's not cricket."

"SIR, YES SIR!" /... you idiot .../

-0-At an equine school in the north of England

"That must have left a mark. Poor Springer. I wish I could hug him."

"You just want to hug Drift. I saw the poster in your bedroom."

"You snitch!" PUNCH!

"Ow."

"Sorry. NOT!"

Brawl ensues for a moment. Then everyone quits because getting punched in the face SLAGGING HURTS! All optics return to the squeeeee in progress.

-0-At the prison in Autobot City

"FRAG YEAH! BEAT HIS AFT! POKE HIS OPTICS OUT! KICK SPRINGER AND THAT FRAGGING DRIFT IN THE AFT!"

"I didn't know Motormaster liked football that much." -Scorponok with a grin

"Me either." Dead End with a funereal gloom at the inevitability of knowing that no matter how great a moment can be, he can bring it down into the Pit.

-0-Sentinel, Porteus, Decimus, Burris, Ratbat and the boys

Silence. Awe has no words.

-0-Somewhere in the hinterlands making a movie, Michael Bay strikes (out) again...

"I want football in the movie."

"Uh, we don't have enough players for it."

"Maybe it can be a flashback. Maybe we can take this film and sort of change the players a bit. CGI and shit, you know? It can be at Iacon or someplace and the game can be a flashback. We can sex it up. We can have dinobots and shit in there and it will *kill*."

"Uh, we … the story doesn't sort of, you know, support that idea."

"Fuck the story! I WANT FOOTBALL! GET ME THE WRITERS!"

"Uh, do we even have writers, Mr. Bay?" /... you idiot .../

-0-In the stands

Kup sorted out the malcontents and had them hauled off by grumbling junior officers of the Watch who didn't have the seniority to protest the order. Then he walked down to check out Springer who was examining his nose structure with what felt like someone elses servo. His own which touched the numb feeling-lumpen area of his now bashed nose structure gently felt like a blow torch on the damaged area.

"Do you need a doc?" Drift asked as he waited for Springer to return from circling the Pit at mach two.

"No," he said with a slight grin. "It just makes me better looking. Right?"

Drift gave him a critical optical. "I don't think that's possible," he said with a grin.

Kup rolled his optics.

Springer smirked then turned raising his arms in the inevitable way that all losers did no matter how big they fucked up. The moment they were pulled from their debacle/debris/broken carcass/hula hoops, they would inevitably raise their (usually broken) arms in victory. The crowd who really understood that anyone who did that was a loser/idiot/peewit/goober/ding dong/slagger/jackaft and/or git would roar anyway. It was usually entertaining, their great fail and Springer was going not to be the exception to that cold hard fact.

The crowd went nuts.

-0-TBC August 17, 2013 Edited 7-2-14