The Diego Diaries: Footbawl 1 (567) edited
-0-On the field
Kaon and Praxus lined up again. They faced each other nearly nose to nose structure.
"Hey, crybabies. You look like someone stole your cookies." -Praxus
"Frag you, slagger. We're going to drink your milkshake." -Kaon
For a moment there was only silence, the kind you have when you access data. Then one of them smirked evilly. "I DON'T LIKE MILKSHAKES!"
The ball was tossed in play.
Praxus caught it and was enveloped in a defensive scrum like no one ever saw. The pincer move was designed to run out the first period clock. Kaon was going to drink their dairy beverage whether they liked it or not.
The ball carrier had barely caught the ball when he was enclosed in The Metallic Arms of Doom brought down by the Kavaliers. He was pinioned in the middle of a seemingly endless metallic husk spreading out in all direction. He had no way to release himself from it so he had to endure the humiliation of bouncing his helm off the backs of the players who gripped him as they lurched around madly.
Forward, sideways, backward, the mech rode the Turtle of Doom, his helm jerking and bouncing off the broad backside of his teammates and opponents. BAM! BAM! JERK! BAM-A-BAMMA-BAM! He began to see stars. Entire constellations. Then he was swallowed like a herring down a Viking's gullet.
Or a soap bubble down a Swirling Drain of Doom.
Anyhoo, he sunk into the depths and was not seen again for a while. Cameras which were catching the scene below however followed every grisly moment. The mech had been sucked in falling to his servos and knees. Crawling madly to miss big heavy peds of the mechs in the turtle, he was frantic to find a way out. Since the scrum's helms were pointing straight down, their optics focused on the ground as they muscled the mass around, they all saw him.
"GET THAT SLAGGER!" -Kaon
"DON'T LET THEM GET THAT SLAGGER!" -Praxus
The mech was the object of nearly twenty interlocked behemoths who watched him crawl and jerk around beneath them as he tried to got out of the Mass of Doom. Since their arms were interlocked, they only had their denta, their peds and an impressive array of swear words and threats to use to break the deadlock.
Literally.
KICK!
The mech dodged many including the clacking of denta from Kaon of mechs trying to bite him as they shoved his way. The direction of the turtle became less about getting the ball moved to someone's goal post and more about tearing the poor slagger with the ball a new one.
Kick!
Stamp! STAMPA-STAMP-STAMP!
BITE! BITE-A-BITE-A-BITE!
The mech, a nice bachelor named Sloan who worked in Specialty Fabrication-Armor, Shipworks, Large Projects frantically spun trying to find his way through the maze of stamping peds and gnashing denta. With enormous effort, he pushed through and stood up. Turning to glare at the mechs in the turtle, he kicked the closest mech to where he stood.
It was his own teammate.
He didn't care.
Yes, he was that pissed.
The entire turtle stood up. He blinked, then ran like the wind.
The wrong way.
Kaon turned first ready to exploit the mistake of Wrong Way Corrigan aka Sloan. Praxus joined them screaming madly for the poor kid to stop and turn around. By the time he did he was dog piled by Kaon and the entire giant mass rolled off the pitch landing in a huge clatter against the wall of the stadium.
They weren't amused.
The spectators were.
:HEY, DIPSHIT! YOU RAN THE WRONG WAY!:
Judy Witwicky turned and slugged her son in the arm. :REALLY, SAM! THAT POOR KID HAS ENOUGH WORRIES WITHOUT YOU ADDING TO THEM!:
Everyone of the humans smirked at Sam with a knowing look: You got slagged by your moth-er. You got slagged by your moth-er.
Like that. The wanker.
Everyone else around them joined in on the fun as the ball began to unwind. Somewhere in the middle was the folded spindled carcass of The Wing That Ran The Wrong Way, old what's his name. Considering he was still enveloped by half of the Kavaliers, he would not know that his (in)fam(e)(y) was already being written by sports journalists on two worlds.
The slaggers.
'Wrong Way Sloan'. 'Nice sloan you did there, buddy.' It would become a byword.
On Earth.
Cybertronians had their own way of slagging a slagger.
As the last smirking hooting Kavalier crawled off the last Pissed Praxian, the half time siren blew.
Mercifully.
The teams snorted their way back to their benches, Sloan carried over the shoulder of Bett who was his friend and fellow shop steward. First Aid would pronounce him unfit to play what with all the dents and bite marks. It would be a good thing because his processor was still circling the Dog Star at that moment.
Woof-woof. Right, Dawg?
Dawg: "ZZZZZZZZ."
The stadium was going nuts at the same time the siren sounded. Flags, pom poms, banners and all manner of sports paraphernalia fluttered and flapped along with the gums of everyone in the stadium. Vos found satisfaction. Altihex and Polyhex joined in one common goal: hexing both teams. Iacon United was aloof as they watched two other teams play THEIR SLAGGING CHAMPIONSHIP GAME AND NOT THEM. But they weren't bitter. OH THE FRAG NO THEY WEREN'T. NOT THEM. THEY WERE IACON FRAGGING UNITED!
SNIFF!
WHIMPER! WHINE!
The teams lined up on the sideline as their captains took the banners and led them to the center line. The refs stood between them and all bowed to the Prime. Then they turned to walk off to the locker rooms together, Dawg ambling along behind them, his tiny butt bouncing high and proud. He was awesome. He would be a major topic in the chat between the halves by sportscasters, spectators, dog aficionados, robotic engineers, most of Japan, all of Simi Valley, a bunch of guys on a bender in a bar in Cally and a nice family in the midwest somewhere.
The teams disappeared down the tunnel studiously avoiding acknowledging each other along the way. The real action would happen when they were in their locker rooms and the doors finally closed.
Until then, please observe the proprieties, thank you very much.
-0-Ironhide
His guts churned as he rose and walked to the stairs that would take him out of the row and into the fire. All over the stadium little mechs and femmes walked to the tunnel nearest where they were. They gathered into lines, donned their various awesome apparel and took their banners, team mascots in some cases and the utter delight and pride of their genitors, team captains and Amas with them into the stadium.
The crowd stilled as lines of the tiniest little bots began to walk into the stadium behind their banner bearer. They were miniscule and completely adorable. They wore the sashes of their teams, bore little team banners just like the big bots that they had designed themselves which were then fabricated in Speciality-Specialties just for them by devoted adults who loved them.
They streamed out walking in proud little lines to the place where they had practiced, pausing as they reached their end point. They planted their little flags, then as one did the Autobot City Infant Football League and Autobot City Micro-Mini-Con Infant Football League war chant and dance that showed their quality.
It was life threatenly cute.
-0-Ratchet
He watched Sunspot do his war dance, shouting out to the universe his willingness to play hard and fair for his team. All of the infants in the league were there having practiced in the school stadium for a few orns prior to the game with their teachers and what coaches could be there from work and duty.
When it was over, the stadium here, the one next door, the set aside viewing place, Jazz and Blaster, the entire MCA download teams in various countries on Earth, most of Earth and probably even the slagging pirates and Decepticons watching over the 'leaked' line lost their shit.
-0-Ironhide
He stood on the sideline watching the babies dance and chant. It was their own culture writ small. Tiny, even. He felt moisture in his optics, then blinked it away. Standing next to him for moral support, Alor grinned. :What are you going to say?:
:I don't know. Can I sit on your lap afterward?: Ironhide asked only half seriously.
:My thumb is reserved for you, son, always: Alor said with a chuckle.
When the dance was over, Ironhide was on. He glanced at his ada, then nodded. Walking out, he was buried in applause, shout outs and slag from everywhere and everyone including every other aforementioned place therein.
He walked to the center field, then looked at his teams. They looked at him worshipfully, their delight, pride, self consciousness and amazement overflowing from their sweet little faces. Ironhide grinned, then nodded at them. Kip and Spinner stood with their banner, Kip's little mouse kitted out in his own sash as he wore the team colors of the Mighty Mice. Nearby, a miniature horse which served a battered little mech who had been wounded in the flight to safety bore his own banner and the devotion of his little mech with his usual calm demeanor.
Dogs were here and there, Spot being no exception. Spot had ridden rather tightly in the carry hold of Sunspot's grandatar, Blackjack. They had made the 'plan' together. Sunspot looked at him with almost too much love, then ran forward. Spot, startled, ran with him. They made it to Ironhide where they grabbed his peds. Behind him, Silverbow and a couple of sweet little mechs ran too. They hugged Ironhide as he bent down petting and hugging them gently. He grinned, then nodded. They grinned upward, then turned to run back to their teams.
Ironhide watched them, then stood. He knew he was wired into the stadium sound system the moment he stepped forward. He looked around, then grinned. "I am Ironhide and its my great honor to be the Director of Autobot Infant Football on Mars."
Pause while crowds here and all over lose it.
He grinned. "I was shoved into this when my bond, Ratchet thought it was a good idea to revive football. That included this level and the professional league."
The crowd lost it. Cameras focused on Ratchet who grinned and waved. Prowl smirked at Ratchet, then shook his helm unaware that all the cameras were focused on Ratchet. Laughter broke out and he became aware. He stood straighter as Prime grinned down at him. The Prime and the Prim.
Sometimes headlines wrote themselves.
Ironhide waited, then began again. "When we were forced off our home world, we left too much of ourselves behind. For most of us, it was either war or running. Sometimes we had time to rest, to have a life but it was never for long. We have come here in numbers and one of the things that our Prime and the City Committee have been trying to do is make a life for ourselves that is like the one we left behind."
The stadium become utterly silent as Ironhide's words reached them. It was silent everywhere where spectators were watching.
"We lost everything. When we came here, Prime had a vision. It wouldn't be like every army bivouac or base we ever had. It would be a city, a home for all of us. We would revive our culture, our sports and give opportunities for all of us especially our infants. They may never know what it was like to grow up on Cybertron. Maybe they will never know about Cybertron at all.
"But here in this oasis they can learn something of their own heritage. They study about their home world in school, have opportunities in the Museum and Temple and play our games. Until we find out about Cybertron, this is what we have for them. They have leagues, they play amazing games, they get along, they are one. All of these teams elected not to keep score or compete. They are so united in good will that the idea of someone losing wasn't acceptable to them."
Ironhide turned to look at them. "I am proud of them. I love them. I am so happy to have been a part of their league. This is year one of participation. I know that next season there will be as many if not more playing. All are welcome. All are treasured and appreciated. All of them. Until all are one."
The crowds who were silent rose up. The chant began, then swelled upward filling the heavens in the stadium here, the one next door, the set aside site and public rooms, bars and apartments all over the cities.
"UNTIL ALL ARE ONE! UNTIL ALL ARE ONE! UNTIL ALL ARE ONE!"
It hit Ironhide like a fist and the infants felt it as they stared around, smiles on their faces. They began to chant too. Ironhide glanced at Prime's section, at the faces of everyone he loved standing and cheering too. Prime stood with a quiet expression, a small smile on his face. He was amused over Ironhide's discomfort and humbled by the chanting. It was shouted out to Cybertron and to him as the living embodiment not only of Primus but Cybertron and Cybertronians wherever and however they existed in the universe.
He was them and they were him. They were united as one. United in one.
Standing beside him with an intense expression, Cyclonus watched. Paragon chanted with Slacker in spite of himself. Soundwave had no expression as he stood silently, his optics roving everywhere. His two officers standing nearby in the company of the Elite Household Guard cheered madly, their joy evident. He glanced at Prime who was displaying the appropriate public demeanor of the First Disciple of Primus and the only legal ruler of their species anywhere in anytime. He let nothing show on his face or in his demeanor that wasn't dignified and proud of his people.
That was who he was.
On the other servo, Prowl was chanting almost ecstatically, his devotion to their Cause, their people, their colony and Primus rising upward in him in his anxious nervous state. Ratchet was grinning, chanting with his people as he watched his son, his bond and all their most precious citizens, the future of their species take a turn in the spotlight.
Orion for once was speechless. He sat on his grandada's arm and grinned. Appa Ratchet on the other servo cried unashamedly.
-0-TBC December 28, 2013
NOTE: HUGS AND THE LIKE to all out there. Zeng, my darling... your sweet mama reads this?! You have made my day/orn. My mom used to read my stuff too. Sometimes genitors are that end of the awesome scale. Tell your little younglings that a crazy lady says hello and hugs the slag out of them. :D:D:D So does Orion. Right, sparkling?
"I, ORION! I LOVE YOU! Hi." (Falls over hugging himself)
See? Its unanimous. :D
Oh, and denta is the word this fandom uses for teeth. :D
To all who read this, HUGS from me and Orion. To all who write about this, HUGS from me and Orion. Oh, and Dawg. Sunspot, Hero and Miracle. The little mechs too. They say hugs too. And Astrotrain. Red Alert. Really. He sends you hugs wrapped in energon cuffs. The twins when they get their finishes done. They do. So does Bob. Out from under the couch where he's cowering. The little baby bug. :D Everyone from Autobot City and Beyond sends Seasons Greetings to all. Christmas Surprise is coming up along with New Years which is going to coincide from now on with their Memorial Day. :D:D:D