The Diego Diaries: Old Hercy (516) edited
-0-On the Phobos
"This can't be good," Jazz said with a chuckle. He turned looking at Prime and Ironhide. "This old mech taught Unicron how to fight. How did we get so lucky?"
"Clean living," Prime said with a grin.
The soldiers looked at the civilians, then all looked at the Autobots. There wasn't a mech present who wasn't grinning. All of them focused on the audio feed.
-0-At ground zero
"GET THE FRAG OUT OF MY WAY! I'LL SHOW THOSE FRAGGERS WHERE THE TARG ATE THE ENERGON!"
"Kup … move this little tyke out of the way before I step on him." -Sandstorm before he regretted it
"WHAT THE FRAG?!" The sound of a ped kicking the shins of another bot dully rang out. Said kickee then bellowed like a bag full of targs as another bot let fly: "SLAGGING RECRUIT! YOU SHOULD *KNOW* ALL THE SLAG I'VE FORGOTTEN! YOU TWO... STEP ASIDE!"
"Kup … what the frag?" -Springer guarding his shins
"Hercy … why don't you let the younglings show you what they can do? You might be impressed." Kup, trying
"FRAG THAT! MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, YOUNGLINGS! KUP AND I WILL TAKE THEM ALL ON! YOU CAN SEE HOW ITS DONE!"
-0-On Phobos
Snickers, then chuckles greeted the cantankery that was floating over the intracom system. Bots were relaxed listening to the tirade of a bot that all of them (of a certain age) knew from (awesome or not) experience. Some of them were trained by him. All of them respected and even loved the slagger. Old Hercy was a legend.
In everyone's mind.
Jazz grinned, then looked at Prime. "Do you want me to go get him before he hurts our side gettin' to the 'Cons?"
"No," Prime said with a chuckle. "This is going to be good no matter what happens."
Jazz turned back to listen. The humans listened too. Especially the civilians. They didn't have a clue what the hell was going on.
-0-Elsewhere
:Ratchet:
:What?: He paused at the parts locker listening.
:Guess what the targ dragged in?:
:Is this 20 question time or do you want phone sex?: Ratchet with a grin.
:Maybe later. Old Hercy just showed up:
Ratchet paused, then laughed hysterically. :Pity the poor youngling that smarts off to him:
:Too late: Ironhide said.
:Can you hear the commotion?: -Ratchet
:Yeah. Here you go: -Ironhide cutting him in
The link flared inside, then the fun rolled out. Ratchet leaned against the counter to be entertained. He wasn't shorted on that expectation.
-0-Out there
"You better stand back. Old Hercy kicks hard." -Kup
"FRAG YEAH! YOU LITTLE SHRIMP! WHAT THE FRAG DID YOU KICK ME FOR!?: -Sandstorm making inquiries
"I FORGOT MORE ABOUT FIGHTIN' SLAGGERS, YOUNGLINGS, THAN YOU KNOW! NOW STAND BACK AND ALLOW ME TO BREAK DOWN THAT SLAGGING DOOR!" With that, an old timey gun materialized in an old timey format, then points at the door. It fires but not in an old timey way. The door flies into fragments fragging all the slaggers everywhere. Including the good guys.
The air is filled with fragments and frags: WHAT THE FRAG?!
YOU DIDN'T GIVE A WARNING!
YOU LITTLE FRAGGER!
The little fragger gave it back as the view began to clear up. "GET THE FRAG OUT OF THE WAY, YOU SLAGGERS! SINCE WHEN DO YOU NEED A WARNING! TELL THEM, KUP!"
At that point, an old timey format holding a strangely new timey gun jumps into the darkness and the ka-bams begin. The younglings including Kup stare at each other, then turn to give back up. Four of them jam up in the doorway and fall backwards. Then they go in one at a time to a dimly lit room filled with mechs sprawling here and there. One of them is going hand-to-hand with the little mech getting the worst of the deal. The Wreckers stood dumbfounded to watch.
"YOU FRAGGER! SURRENDER!" -Old Hercy
"FRAG YOU, YOU LITTLE SHRIMP! DIE!" -Carnivac
"How the frag can a midget like that fight a mountain like Carnivac?" -Springer with wonderment
"He's a work and a wonder." -Kup getting metaphysical
"Slagger made shrapnel of the door. What the frag is he holding?" -Sideswipe jonesing for Old Hercy's meat getter*.
"Look at that. He kicked Carnivac into the bulkhead." -Drift mesmerized by the tiny mech with the skills. He wants them too.
"DIE, FRAGGER!" Carnivac said as he onlined his big old gun.
Hercy did too and put a round through Carnivac's helm. The big bot stood a moment staggering around, then fell on the ground. Hercy looked at him, then off lined his gun. "Fragger. Gonna need more than your yap to kill me." He turned to look at the bleeding, limping, hulking group of Wreckers staring at him with amazement and not a little fear. "Someone better get him to a medic. I think they can glue his head back together if you hurry." Then he walked to the shattered door, pausing. "Kup. Shake a leg." He turned and walked onward.
No one said a word, then Springer looked at Kup. "Your dad?"
Kup who was champing on his stogie took it out a moment. "I wish." Then he bit down on it again. He walked out the doorway after Hercy. It was silent a moment. "Springer to Prime."
"Prime here," a bemused voice replied.
"Uh … we're good here," Springer replied as everyone there nodded silently.
"I am sure you are. Get that mopped up and get Hercy over here," Prime said. "Prime out."
The mechs looked at each other, then the mess in the room. Carnivac had a hole in his head but he was still alive. So was Flywheels and Battletrap. Barely. "Springer to Ratchet."
"Ratchet here." Ratchet's communications came over the communications lines of the Phobos too. "What's up, Springer? You had a reading from the mech?"
"That little runt?" Springer asked with a grin as he stepped over slag to get to the door.
"That little runt is Old Hercy. Ask Ironhide when you have a moment. He actually mentored Kup."
"No one is that old," Sandstorm said with amazement.
"I'll be sure to tell both of them," Ratchet said. The Wreckers blanched. "I suppose you want clean up?"
"Yes," Drift said. "Carnivac might make it. He has a hole in his head. You might need to mix a big batch of caulk."
Ratchet snorted. "You trying to tell me my job? I only use medicinal silly putty on dumb afts. Remember that. Medics on their way. Ratchet out."
They stood looking at the carnage. "What's the story?" Springer asked as he nudged what was left of Catilla with his ped.
"I burned Snarler. Ruckus is ready for the dust bin too," someone said in the back.
"Catilla is done for," Drift said as he looked at the three in the command module. "Flywheels and Battletrap might have a chance. Chop Shop is chopped but he could be salvaged if we care enough."
"Needlenose and Bludgeon?" Springer asked as the sound of medics coming down the corridor was heard. Their shuttle had come up beside the transport off loading them easily.
"Somewhere. I don't know. I think they got burned. Maybe not Needlenose but Bludgeon. You burned Bludgeon didn't you?" someone said in the back of the crowded corridor.
"I don't remember. I might have. I should have. I'll claim him," someone else said.
"I burned Bludgeon." Another voice sounded off.
"Frag that. I burned him. You just shot him. I put a round into his ugly head. You can't claim him when he's mine," the first voice said.
Then the fight broke out.
Springer and Drift stood with a damaged Sideswipe watching the two trade blows in the back. "I'm glad that old mech isn't here," Drift said with a smirk.
Everyone around Springer nodded in agreement. "You and me both," Springer said quietly.
No one broke up the fight.
-0-Ops Center, Autobot City, Mars
The word came that a mayhem team had been taken out by the Wreckers. Prowl quashed his now famous knee jerk reaction to the word Wrecker and all its various spellings. They done good *this* time. "Did any of them survive?" he asked Ironhide who had relayed the message.
"I think Needlenose did. Possibly Carnivac, Flywheels and Battletrap. I am unclear on the other six but they have a big sack they're filling up on deck." Ironhide grinned. Ragging on Prowl about the Wreckers was one of life's little pageants.
"Sounds typical," Prowl replied with typical semi-repulsion.
The command crew who was listening including Prime who was deeply relieved that a sick ass crew was neutralized grinned at the peeve in Prowl's tone.
Many was the private rant Prime had experienced both before and after the bond on this very subject from the uptight but professional winger. "ALL MY FRAGGING PLANS! ALL OF THEM! FRAGGED BY THOSE FRAGGERS!" Prowl smirked every time he thought about it. He was also glad his fathers never heard him do it. Swearing was frowned upon in his family.
The slaggers.
Prowl grinned.
"Guess who else we found," Ironhide said as he settled back in his chair.
Starscream smirked as he listened. Prowl was obviously very funny. He obviously had no slagging clue he was. That made him hilarious.
"Pray, do enlighten me," Prowl said with a hint of mirth.
"Old Hercy." -Ironhide
Pause.
"No." -Prowl
"Yes."-Ironhide
-0-At the door of the Moonbase
Ratchet watched the shuttles slowing as they brought damaged goods to his port in the storm. Stretchers were brought over with mashed up Decepticons on them, their energon dripping all over the place. He grinned and nodded for the medics to take them forward. It would be a moment or two before they would be prepped so he stood in the doorway and listened to Ironhide cheese off Prowl.
-0-Ironhide v Prowl
"No. Really? No. I don't believe you."
"Really, Prowler. Old Hercy came and put the 'Cons down."
"No. Where was Springer? He wouldn't have allowed a micro-mini old rattletrap to do his job for him."
"He did," Ironhide said as mechs on the bridge choked back their laughter including Prime.
"HA!" Prowl exhorted. "Well, well, well … the VAUNTED WRECKERS met their betters did they? Those slaggers who fragged up EVERY SINGLE CAREFULLY CONSIDERED PLAN I EVER MADE!? *THOSE FRAGGERS*!?"
Ironhide snorted, then laughed out loud. "Yep."
Pause.
"Good." The tone was exultant. The inflection malicious. Prowl rising from the sea on a half shell triumphant. "Prowl out. Uh, Ironhide..."
"What?" Ironhide asked.
"I want details. Understand?"
"Count on it, Prowler." -Ironhide
"Prowl out." A crashing wave of satisfaction followed those simple words as Prowl Ascendent signed off and floated to his job once more. A tiny mech from the Dark Ages had upstaged the mouthy, raucous, unyieldingly infuriating Wreckers. HUZZAH! He would celebrate that moment for a long time.
Sometimes it was good to be Prowl.
-0-In the emergency suite for head trauma
Ratchet looked at the mech lying on his med berth. He had plugged the energon drips and debrided the big round hole in half Carnivac's helm for replacement and rebuilding. He grinned. "When I get done replacing your broken bits, slagger, you won't remember a damned thing."
"He looks bad," a medic said who was watching and assisting Ratchet.
"He's going to lose an aft load of memories. Nothing can be done about that. But he will gain a spark," Ratchet said as he lifted the helm plates off Carnivac's head.
The medic blanched. "He'll be lucky to remember his name. That's a lot of damage. How is he still alive?"
"The Matrix doesn't want his sorry carcass," Ratchet replied as he reached in with long tweezers and began to remove busted stuff. It would be a long process. When he was done, Carnivac would be a new mech.
Literally.
-0-TBC November 16, 2013
NOTE: My dad hated to hunt though he provided for his family. My dad was/is my hero. He loved the fun of camping and hanging with friends. He had a really old rifle that never failed to score. Everyone else had new guns, scopes out the wazoo and the like. They almost never brought anything back. We called his old rifle, "Meat Getter." -:D:D:D