The Diego Diaries: Getting There (570) edited
-0-There
That was when Prowl lost his shit.
A bellow … perhaps a yell. More than a yelp but less than a combustive howler … sort of in between …
Sorry.
Prowl let out an exclamation of extreme relief that was followed by an involuntary urge to climb over the top of everyone and run onto the field. His grip which even though legendary had begun to slip as the long horribilis continued. If he had pulled out his own optics with pliers, he could not be more pain filled than he was until the moment that Praxus dunked a big one.
"PRAXUS! GO, PRAXUS!" he yelled at the top of his voice as he stood half bent over, his servos balled into fists. He jumped up and down, then yelled again. "PRAXUS! GO, YOU BASTARDS!"
Ratchet nearly swallowed his tongue as he turned to watch. Prime who was standing beside Prowl was laughing his helm off as the oblivious winger gave the galaxy his two shanix worth. All around their section bots paused to watch the most dignified composed and famously unflappable mechanism lose his shit.
"PRAXUS! GO! GET THE SLAGGING BALL AND SCORE AGAIN! DO IT, YOU SLAGGERS! I WILL PUT YOUR SORRY AFTS ON CHARON AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF MARS AGAIN!"
-0-On the field
Fortunately for the soldiers on the Sciences team, Prowl's voice was one of 240,000+ individuals giving them slag out the wazoo at the same time. They did what they did every game. They ignored it. Kaon whose bench was on Prowl's side of the field turned to watch him with great amusement.
So did Blaster and Jazz.
-0-In the commentator's booth
"Look at that."
"What?"
The cameras nearby began to focus on Prowl. The elegant, handsome, dignified mechanism was jumping up and down bellowing his helm off. "Prowl is losing his processor." Blaster grinned. "Prowl is the most dignified mech you will ever meet. Some would say he's computer like in his control of his emotions but he's from Praxus. Given that Praxus has never won a game in the entirety of the universe, I think Prowl is entitled. Don't you, Jazz?"
"I do, Blaster. Especially if I get a copy of this film," Jazz said with a chuckle.
Earth was having a snicker too.
-0-On the field
They lined up again. There was almost not enough time left to do anything. All anyone had to do now was score one more time. If they did, the game was over. If no one did, the tie would require an overtime segment that Prowl would probably not survive. They gathered in their line and hunkered down.
"Fragger."
"Douchebag."
"I'm gonna clean your clock."
"I don't have a clock, fragger. But I did enjoy your milkshake."
"I wish I knew what the frag you were talking about!"
"HIKE!"
The ball was put into play. Clocks and slagging milkshakes were forgotten as several dozen tons of mechanisms came together in a terrible crash. They nearly climbed over each other rising ever higher into the sky as they clawed each other for the ball. It was deafening.
-0-Nearby
"Grandada? Is Uncle Prowl okay?" Sunspot asked as he peered down the row to where Prowl was beating on Ratchet in his zeal to impose his will on the fraggers on the field. Ratchet for his part was taking the slagging because he was bent over laughing.
Ravel looked down the row, then grinned. "Uncle Prowl is happy. He's showing your ada how happy he is."
"Okay," Sunspot said with a grin. Then he turned to yell for Kaon.
Ravel just stood grinning as he held Sunspot and watched Ratchet get slagged down the row.
-0-On the field
They pushed and went out of bounds. Praxus threw it in, three mechs had a header, then Kaon stole it … literally … and ran like the wind. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were swamped so it was up to Hugh-O and Pan to take it in. They nearly made it too before getting knocked off. They caterwalled into the stands and landed in a heap, Praxian backs clutching them by the afts.
Fortunately, Kaon landed on their helms when they stopped. Everyone sat a moment rebooting functions various and sundry before rejoining the war aka game. They gathered and Kaon threw it in from out. It bounced as Sideswipe grabbed it. He got nearly three footfalls away before getting slagged out the wazoo. He flipped over, then fell hard. He lay there silently.
-0-Ratchet
"Frag."
-0-Prowl
"Frag." / … mostly …/
-0-Bluestreak
"Not again. BABY!"
-0-Prime
/... frag … that hurt …/
-0-Sunstreaker
"WHAT THE FRAG! THAT WAS A CHEAP SHOT! WHERE'S THE SLAGGING REFS!?"
-0-Slagging refs
They huddled, then declared, "That was a cheap shot. Ins to Kaon."
A mini riot occurred among the Praxian players as they gathered around the refs to complain. Kaon stepped into the breach to protect the refs only because the slaggers were ruling in their favor. While this was happening, Sideswipe was being dragged off to the sidelines where a stricken First Aid and bemused Goldwing waited with glue guns and duct tape.
The riot was quelled when the refs threatened to forfeit to Kaon if the Praxians didn't GET THE FRAG OFF THEIR PEDS!
Praxus did.
The refs limped to the sidelines and blew their whistles. "KAON GETS THE INS! PRAXUS SCIENCE ARE FRAGGERS! THEY MASHED OUR SLAGGING PEDS! FRAG YOU, PRAXUS! KAON, KICK THEIR AFTS!"
TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!
The game continued.
-0-Ratchet
:Do you want me to come down, boys? Or is he going to be alright?:
:He's just slammed, Ratchet. He'll reboot and come around. We're good: Goldwing said as he watched his meter register Sideswipe's slow climb back to the world of reality and all its miserable shortcomings.
Ratchet glanced at the others. "He's coming around. They have it so it can't be too bad or Aid would have called for an airlift."
Prime snorted, then nodded, a grin on his face. Soundwave, Paragon and Cyclonus made no comment, but turned back to the game with their nearly unreadable faces. Slacker on the other servo was having a massively good time and showed it.
The game lurched on as the clock began to run down. Swiftly.
-0-On the field
Kaon threw the ball in, then it was shot on goal but failed. They came to the center line, then called a time out for huddle. Walking to gather nearby, they hunched over.
"Frag Sideswipe getting fragged."
"Yeah. We have to score one more goal. Give it everything. Overtime is fragged. I hate overtimes."
"Me too. We frag them now. No prisoners."
"Sounds good to me. Sound good to you?"
"Sounds good to me." They all agreed. It was good.
"HUT THE FRAGGING HUT, SLAGGERS!" -Kaon in agreement
They walked back to the line, bent down and began the most brutal three minutes of football seen on this or any other world in any galaxy in any universe that belonged to any dimension ever known. Yes, it was horrendous.
Energon flew.
Helms got bopped.
Arms and legs got bent.
Afts got kicked.
Bots staggered into lines to be met with enormous resistance. Back and forth the lines went as the defenses held. Then the ball got free and went straight up. Two bots who were there jumped for it, clawing the air and each other to grab for it.
Praxus did.
They pivoted, ran like whiners in this and every other dimension and with a desperation born of hopelessness shot on goal.
It was good.
Then the siren for the end of the game was heard.
The game was over.
Praxus, 4. Kaon, 3.
Praxus Science, the lowest of the low, the losingest of the loser division had actually won the Primus League Cup, the World Adult Football League Championship of the Primal Colony of Mars.
Who knew?
-0-In the stands
The fans of Praxus stood a moment absorbing the shock, then as one moved forward to clamber over the walls. The Kaon fans stood absorbing something too, then joined Praxus. Half of the spectators were on their way to the field.
Sunstreaker who was already there stood beside Hugh-O in silence. Then he turned walking toward the tunnel. The others went with him, following him silently to the locker room where they would gather together.
Alone.
-0-On the field
They came together in almost incoherent joy. The masses were dancing, singing, celebrating. Watch mechs circulated watchfully but amazingly enough, with thousands on the field, no one was ready for lock up. Those mini-cons were already there.
It would take a while to clear but in the end they would. By that time Ratchet would have made it to the door of the Kaon locker room. A single rap on the door and he would be inside. The door would close behind him.
-0-Prime
He looked at Prowl who stood silently beside him. He was staring at the scoreboard dumbfounded. :Are you alright?:
Prowl didn't answer a moment. Then he did. :Yes. Finally:
Prime grinned, then glanced at their 'guests'. "We need to go. We have places to visit yet."
Their guests nodded, then turned. Under armed escort, the four and the two staffers from Soundwave's general staff began to file out of the stadium. Prowl would follow as silently as Blackjack and Ironhide.
-0-Inside the Kaon locker room
They sat silently, their battered bodies as dejected as their processors. Ratchet stared at them, then walked to where Sideswipe sat with his arm draped over Sunstreaker's shoulders. He scanned both, then the rest of the room. Turning to the pair, he sat down across from them. "You played the best game I ever saw."
"We lost."
"I know. But I will tell you, that was the best game I ever saw."
Bracket who was sitting next to Sunstreaker shook his helm. "I wished it had been different."
"I know," Ratchet said. He looked at Bracket. "You played with honor and you did Kaon proud. No Kaonian anywhere can be anything but proud of all of you. I know I am."
"You wanted Iacon to win," Sideswipe said with a slight smirk. "Even against us."
"I know. I will defend you to the death, the two of you but football is football, boys," Ratchet said with a grin. Snickers greeted that remark from around the room.
Sunstreaker looked at Ratchet a moment, then grinned faintly. "I want to mourn. You're not helping."
"Good. There isn't a mech in this room that isn't awesome. There isn't a mech in this room that didn't break their afts to play the best they could. You did us all proud. You did Kaon proud. This city is lucky to have all of you. I say that as a Cybertronian and as an Iaconian. No one wanted Iacon to win more than me but I was glad when you won a chance at the championship. No town or team deserved it more. Praxus knows how you feel."
"Frag Praxus," Sunstreaker said, then he grinned slightly. "I suppose that Prowl is having a festival in his helm."
Ratchet nodded. "He is. But you know what the cure for that is for next season, right?" They all looked up at Ratchet. He grinned. "We recruit Blurr."
It was silent a moment, then Sideswipe snorted. He grinned. "You're hopeless. We would need Blurr and Tenzin from the Polyhex team."
Ratchet chuckled. "Make it so, Padwan. Make it so."
A tiny rap on the door then caught their attention.
-0-TBC December 30, 2013