It was an abnormal night at the bar, and Swerve was feeling like utter slag. There was a tightness in his abdomen that he couldn't describe. It wasn't like when one over indulged in energon goodies; his protoform was cramping hard as if he had under fueled, and he was starting to believe that was the issue.

But, his spinal strut made him think otherwise. It felt like it was seizing up at random intervals. At first it wasn't that painful, just a dull ache like when he recharges on his side wrong, but as the night wore on, his condition got worse. Swerve's back pulsed angrily at him anytime he moved wrong. Then it spread towards his front. Which left his abdomen taunt and achy. It was so bad he considered closing down early to see a medic, though he loathed that idea.

Mechs were really enjoying themselves! Some were huddled near the stage listening to Blaster play something upbeat. The kind of music that made Swerve want to shake his hips despite the pain.

Heck, he didn't even need to. Some bots beat the mini to the punch. He spotted Chromedome dancing away with his sparkmate. Rewind visor brightened in mirth as his partner spun him around, then did a dip to add a little flare. They were a terribly cute couple, and he really didn't want to interrupt something that precious with his dumb problems.

His bar was about making other bots happy! So, if that meant plastering a smile on his face while pouring a couple of drinks then he'd gladly do it. Swerve could live through pain. His constant state of being was discomfort. What was a few more hours of waiting?

And the main event hadn't even started yet! Tonight was a big night for any racing fan. It was the start of something special! Like-...like the re-re-re opening of his bar type of special!

The war had taken the Ibex Cup away from them! It was a tragic loss for every speed racing loving cybertronian. A bitter yearly reminder of what precious piece of culture they had lost alongside their home….

Only for, shocker really, Starscream and his array of goons to bring it back. It had something to do with political racing slag with one of the colony planets. Swerve couldn't say he was really invested in that portion of the race but-

That didn't matter! The race was back, baby! All thanks to Screamers greedy pompous aft. All hail the winged leader bestowing the gift of fun to the common folks!

Damn, Swerve never thought he'd be thankful towards a metal chicken. Yet, here he was- spark full of the untapped power of raw pure excitement and love. Legend has it that such power could do anything, such as bring back canceled tv shows from the grave, create fanfictions so deep and vast it rivaled the far reaches of space, and even have fans more dedicated to fiction than their own factions. The thought left Swerve misty optic more than 's why Swerve had spent ages preparing for this night. This night was for those that shared the same love and dedication he had for the sport.

The bartender had set up a couple of massive holo screens to live stream it. He even went so far as mixing up drinks based off of the different racers!

There was the Drag Strip; a mix with zinc with a bold, flavorful punch in the face. Rodimus; A spicy little number that hit all the right notes on the not a bribe. Then there was his personal favorite Blurr; a sweet blue cocktail mixed with three different kinds of engex that went down smooth.

He had put so much effort in setting this night up. It was a waste to just let a little achy strut stop him! And he was dying to see his patrons' reactions to his themed brews.

No, he was going to see it through to the end. Swerve was determined to carry on bartending till the last customer left. He could feel it deep in his spark. Tonight was going to be one to remember!

Swerve, now with his mind made up, tried to focus his attention on anything but his frame. He wiped down the surface of the bar of any sticky residue while his optics flickered to the holoscreen. The broadcasters were spewing their normal nonsense before playing a reel of old ads before the race started. He guessed they didn't have time to record anything new.

Swerve didn't mind-It was a bit nostalgic to see the standard scrap for over priced energon drinks and 'new' exciting alt mods. The stuff that never applied to the mini thankfully. It finally hit him why though. Most of these commercials were outdated relics that blatantly screamed the praise of functionalism. We all are cogs in the great machine that is our society. Do your part by staying in your lane. It made his protoform crawl.

Then there were the ones that ooze corporate influence. Swerve leaned against the bar and soaked in the old commercials they were playing. All of them had a familiar pattern. Get some of fan favorites to wink at the camera! Those suckers will eat that up like rust sticks. And edit out the part of the poor fool gagging. Cant have bots knowing our product is slag!

Honestly, it was painful for him to watch. He felt bad for all the racers that had to bite their glossa and tread through commercials for their sponsors. Almost as painful as his middle right now. Almost.

He kept watching like the trash heap he was though. It was junk food for the processor. Nothing of nutritional value, but kept one busy for a bit.

Till his own guilty pleasure came on. An advertisement that those corporate cog suckers must have made just for him. Since it starred the best speedster around! The beautiful, sleek, and the fastest mech on cybertron: Blurr!

The commercial was for an old chained detailing shop around Iacon. They do everything from custom jobs to fine tuning a mech's frame, and honestly, they did a perfect job on casting. Blurr was one of the hottest mechs around, and they did a great point to show him off.

It featured up close shots of the polished to perfection paint job he wore. Meaning it proudly displayed his amazing frame. Clearly tailored towards fans with pockets full of shanixs.

The commercial was rather simple besides the fan service. Blurr went on about how he loved going there. How they treat their clients like pieces of artwork. That they made a bot feel like a jewel. It zoomed in to every detail of the speedster's frame, really letting the viewers see how good of a job they did.

It ended with Blurr winking at the with a not so subtle shot of his aft as he transformed away. The paint glistened in the sun. Which Swerve could confirm, did in fact sparkle like that.

As the commercial faded away Swerve clung to his cleaning rag. There was an uncertain emotion bubbling inside of his spark. Before; this pandering made the mini bot utterly gitty. It used to make him feel over both moons to see his favorite celebrity succeeding.

But, now? Instead of being an eager happy little fan bot it made him feel awkward. He wasn't bursting with pride or embarrassingly charged up from watching it like in the past. No, he felt...he wasn't quite sure. He stared blankly at the screen trying to pinpoint his emotion.

….

Blurr..

No one on the Lost Light would believe him, but Swerve had met the speedster before. Twice actually.

To his regret their first interaction ended with Swerve alone with a fake comlink number. It had hurt at the time. Still kind of does when he thinks about it. The speedster hadn't even bothered to give him one that looked legitimate. The number was about four digits too short to actually connect to anything. Swerve's own damaged pride clung to it like a safety blanket during the war. It was his 'happy' place. Whenever he thought 'this is it' he'd daydream of punching in that number so Blurr could give him words of encouragement.

It was embarrassing. He was embarrassed. For an entire war he clung onto a parasocial relationship to cope with slag then paraded around like it was real.

He wished that interaction ended differently. Scratch that, he wishes he never met Blurr. Then he wouldn't have to live with the fact that he made such a fool of himself. Twice.

But, Swerve deserved it with the way he behaved. He got it! If he was in Blurr's pedes, and a fat little mini wouldn't shut it then he too would get irritated. No wonder the speedster was so eager to leave.

Despite his frag up Swerve still was a fan. He'd kept cheering the speedster on, even though Blurr didn't need it. In all honesty Swerve needed it more than he did.

Something to find inspiration from. To help him keep going… Because, everytime Blurr crosses that finish line Swerve remembered that warm feeling in his spark. A tiny ball of hope that with hard work, things will be okay. And, after the last couple of months he had….

….

He-..He really needed it tonight.

But, apparently Primus was listening to his thoughts, and promptly laughed at them. Since not a click later it felt like he was sucker punched in the middle.

Swerve took a sharp gasp as pain radiated throughout his frame. Coolant prickling at the corners of his optics. He was thankful for his visor for covering up his pathetic display. His lower lip warbled as he fought not to full blown cry. He nibbled on it in an attempt to hide his distress. He was usually better at this!

But, tonight was making it difficult. He was in a lot of pain. On a scale of one through ten he was about twenty. It was way worse than the time he accidentally shot himself in the face.

"Hey, Swerve, are you okay? Because you look a bit pale..not that you look bad or anything! Just you seem a bit off tonight"

The mini stopped what he was doing to glance at the nervous praxian. Bluestreak's big doe-like optics were wide with concern. Looks like that made Swerve forget that he was a fully upgraded mech, and not a sparkling. He was just such a sweet bot.

"Just feeling a bit blue is all" he said, finger gunning at the grey bot. That earned him a well deserved groan that made him laugh, but that was a mistake.

He clung onto the countertop as his stomach rippled in pain again. He gnashed his denta together as his entire frame shook. Swerve felt strained. More strained than Ultra Magnus at a social event.

Alarmed, Bluestreak stepped closer to help his boss. His servos hovered right above the mini, uncertain how to proceed. He didn't want to make the situation worse.

Swerve took in a shuddering breath until the cramp eased. He slumped forward as this wave finally subsided. Swerve groaned, feeling more drained than ever before.

"Swerve, I think you should sit down."

"No, no. I'm fine. Just having a bad case of achy tanks." he reassured, waving his servo.

"Achy tanks? Swerve, you were about to double over. Maybe I should call Ratchet."

"No!", Swerve blurted out in a rush that startled even himself, " I mean the shift only has three more hours Blue-

And everyone is hyped to see the race. I can make it through, and the first thing tomorrow I'll go to a doc-bot, alright?"

"Swerve.. that sounds like a terrible plan. Look, I can look after the bar. I'll even clean up and close everything down"

Swerve opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by loud whooping from bots in the bar. Most bots had their optics locked on a holoscreen. The show is going through the roster.

Team spirit was in the air tonight. The majority of the bots had covered their frames in decals of their favorite racer's numbers. They had ridiculous amazing merch like novelty cubes with competitors faceplates plastered on them. Some went so far as to paint themselves temporarily to show their support.

"And now! Mechs and Femmes alike, it's time to start the race!", the announcer on the holoscreen bellowed.

"I appreciate the offer Blue, but really! I'm fine", Swerve said, grabbing a tray of drinks for a hasty escape.

He took off before his worried employee could stop him. Swerve was swift to put distance between them. He couldn't stand to see that look again- the one full of concern and pity. Besides, there was plenty of work to do.

He went around the room handing out different orders. His frame protested with every step, but he wasn't going to let it slow him down! He was going to get through this shift even if it offlined him. Hopefully, that wouldn't be the case.

He had empty the tray all but for two drinks. A familiar order that the mini knew by spark now. Swerve smiled, glancing at the booth that cybertron's cutest love mechs sat at. Chromedome had Rewind settled in his lap. The archivist snuggled in close as the red dot on his helm flickered to indicate he was recording.

He couldn't help the little sigh that escaped him. There was a longing deep in his chassis to have a relationship like that. A mech to hold Swerve close, and hold him like a precious treasure. For some bot to listen to him chitter on about the stuff he was passionate about. It was a dumb desire that wasn't going to happen.

The universe just didn't have it written in the stars for him. Primus, it wasn't for a lack of trying. Oh, he tried. A little too hard in fact. Swerve would do anything to impress his partners. Gifts, jokes, and outrageous dates inspired by the sappiest romantic , the little bartender fell hard and quickly.

The little bit of kindness was all he desired. But, he rarely even got that. Mechs couldn't stand his chatting for thirty minutes let alone hours alone. His partners would get annoyed, disinterested, and ignore him within a few days. Desperation wasn't an attractive quality.

No, the majority of them ended with Swerve lonely with a bottle of his own nightmare brew. Alone with his beloved comedies, overcharged, and hopelessly filling the void in his spark with treats. It was why Swerve had stopped going on dates about twenty years back…

On the bright side Swerve could at least be happy for his friends that did have it. He sauntered up to their table, painful tank ache temporarily forgotten, with their collective orders at servo. Both helms turned to his attention in an instant.

"Hey gentle mechs! How's it going tonight?" Swerve beamed at the adorable couple

"Oh Swerve! Me and Domey were just settling in to watch the race!"

"Yep! It's gonna be a real doozy. Now~ Let's see. One spiced fire bolt engex for Chromedome. And a sickeningly sweet space martini for my favorite datastick."

"What makes it a space martini?" Chromedome interjected, staring at the green liquid

"Because a space martini sounds way cooler than a normal regular martini, now doesn't it? And I'm pretty sure this space martini would melt a hole in a human's stomach. So, gotta clarify a bit!"

"That is absolutely ridiculous. Have you been hanging out with Brainstorm lately? Because, that sounds like something he came up with."

"Waaah? Nooo, that's just slander Domey old buddy. I mean, all of my ideas are original. None stolen from absurd human movies and shows. What kind of mech do you take me for ? Now, would any of you like some space fries or some space treats?"

"I can't tell if you're serious or not"

"Oooh! Domey~ We should try some space fries." The mini proclaimed, vibrating in his lover's lap.

"Well, I think that I can get ya some space fries. Actually, it's on the house" Swerve offlined half his visor to give an appearance of a wink "Gotta keep my best customers coming back!"

"Swerve you don't gotta do tha-" Chromedome tried to interject.

"Can't hear you over my amazing bartending abilities. I'll be right back," he smiled, heading over to the kitchen to put the order in.

He returned a few minutes later with a basket of molten hot space fries. In reality it was savory solidified energon sticks dusted with brass powder. A little something he whipped up after binge watching Steven Universe; an adorable sparkling cartoon about love. He had been craving 'the bits' since the moment he saw them on screen.

It was sort of a bastardization of actual fries, but being a bot meant he couldn't try them. Organic material could gunk up one's system. And that was just unfair! They looked amazing.

So, Swerve made his own. His version got the gist of it anyway. Hot, salty, and crispy! It wasn't like a human could tell him if it was wrong. Well, since his space fries would definitely kill them.

He approached the couple again with a grin that slowly began to become more strained. Swerve could feel something shift within him, and another surge of spasms curled around his middle. Swerve forced himself to power through the pain with each step.

"Hope you like this Rewind. Took me a while to perfect the recipe," Swerve said, placing the basket in front of the datastick.

"Oooh, that looks interesting!" Rewind said snatching a morsel up, retracting his mask and then promptly stuffing it in his mouth.

Rewind chewed for a moment taking in the taste. Then to Swerve's delight, his visor brightened. He gathered another one and put it in his spark mates direction.

"Try it! You'll love it Domey"

"Alright, let's see" Chromedome hummed snapping his mask away, "aaah~"

The couple munched away at his concoction. Their fields rippled in pleasure as the taste enveloped their glossas. Swerve watched with a smile plastered on his face.

Ordinarily, the minibot would take in their praise and their delight. But, not right now. He didn't want to alarm them, but this was the most painful wave yet. He stood there struggling not to shake. More than anything he wanted to escape this conversation so he could hunch over in pain in the kitchen.

"These are amazing,"

"Thanks," Swerve managed to squeak out. "Thinking of recreating more human food. Thought about making cybertronian pizza. Because it's unfair turtles can eat it but we cant"

"Um swerve, turtles don't eat pizza," Chromedome said with his helm tilted in confusion.

"They do if they're ninjas," he countered.

"Ninja turtles…?"

"It's a human TV show. It's about a rat teaching turtles to be ninjas in New York's sewer system," Swerve grinned. "You should give it a try. It's tubular."

"Radical!" Rewind snickered back

Swerve cracked them a rare genuine smile. Yes, he was in pain. It felt like something was punching him in the gut over and over; but they were some of the few bots who indulged the bartender in his human media obsession. In fact, Rewind was a bit of his dealer. That mech could get a hold of any show he wanted to watch. Heck, he was Swerve's own personal pirate bay! Nothing was off the table!

"... Right… Anyway! I have a quick question for you, Swerve." Chromedome said between sips of his drink.

The seriousness in his voice gave Swerve pause. That tone was never good. It was his 'I'm a licensed doctor in the medical field and I got bad news ' voice. Oh, frag. Why now?

"...Alright, shoot?", Swerve forced himself to say without a groan.

At first it was like radio silence. Swerve glanced at Chromedome, who seemed unsure how to proceed, then to Rewind. The small mech was too busy, forcing all his attention to the basket of fries. It was like that for an uncomfortable amount of time….

Swerve was just about to deflect wherever this was going with a joke. Or lie about the bar needing him to avoid this conversation. When, finally, Chromedone broke through the couple's awkward hesitation.

"Why are you single?"

Oh…

Why was he..

Swerve's little persona faltered. He couldn't starve off his frown. That was a topic he didn't want to breach, ever. On top of everything else going on.. He sucked on his bottom lip looking away.

"Oh..um well...You see…"

"Not that there's anything wrong with it!" Rewind quickly interjected, "It's just you are really great, and it's a bit baffling."

Swerve gave them a look of utter disbelief. Him, great? As great as a scraplet was at devouring trash.

His many failed relationships were proof of that. He wasn't meant for love or happiness. He was here only to make drinks and crack one liners...

"No, really! I actually wanted to bring this up sooner. You remember my brother, Eject? Well, he's still single, and me and Domey think you'd be cute together"

Oh… they wanted to set him up on a date. A date… him? He swallowed thickly. A lump forming in his throat.

That… wasn't what he had been expecting. An offer to annoy a new mech with his motor mouth. A way to cut a piece of his spark.

Frag, he couldn't deal with this now. He couldn't even do a one night stand right! He messed that up spectacularly! And, here were these two trying to set his pathetic aft up on a date.

Swerve was trying to be happy and positive tonight. He really was! But, he was hurting. So fragging bad.

He put his servo against the main source of the spasms. Swerve could feel this hard lump pressed against his abdomen. His plating slightly bowed. That.. that was concerning. Really concerning actually.

He didn't pay much attention to his frame. But, that was definitely new. How long had that been there ?

That shouldn't be there. How long had that been there ? Swerve had no idea. Why hadn't he noticed this before ? Swerve couldn't hide the distress from his field.

"Swerve, you alright..?"

He should leave. The back of the kitchen sounded good for a freak out. Or a complete utter melt down.

A jolt of pain rattled to his core. He gasped clinching his servos into a tight fist. O-or maybe a doctor instead. He should go to the doctor. Like right now, because this wasn't normal. Oh, Primus, this wasn't good.

Alarmed Rewind called out, " Swerve! Breathe! Oh domey, he doesn't look good."

He couldn't form a reply. He couldn't even think straight. Something felt wrong.. some was..!

CLICK!

All color drained from Swerve's face as a familiar sound rang out; one reserved for intimate moments alone in the habsuite.

He gasped as his modesty panel transformed away. He shivered as air touched his now exposed puffy white valve. Shame rippled through his field as a trail of lubricant dripped down his thigh, as if he was aroused. But he wasn't! He was the furthest he could be right now! Swerve's face was on fire as he stared at the sight.

"...Swerve…?"

In a panic he sent a command to close his interface panel. But, his own frame denied the request. The bartender used his servo to cover his personal equipment from any onlookers.

"I-i'm sorry! I-i don't know wha-", he whimpered, mortified.

That was all he managed to say before he cried out and gripped the edge of the table. His knees quivered from the strain of his own weight and threatened to buckle under him. Swerve took in a sharp vent as his middle raged with more cramps. An unhealthy amount that begged him to do something.

"Swerve!", Rewind had leapt off his companion to check on his fellow minibot.

Swerve couldn't focus on whatever his friends were saying. Oh primus, he might be dying. He should have just taken Bluestreak's offer. As another convulsion hit his valve gushed more liquid. To his horror, it wasn't just lubricant. This time it was mixed with a familiar pink tint. Energon. He was leaking energon out of his private bits! In front of his patrons.

Why couldn't tonight just go smoothly? Why must he ruin everything! He cried out as something lurched within him. The sensation scares him more than the pain.

Swerve could feel something pressing the sensitive mesh of his valve wide. It was like some bot just shoved Brainstorm's entire briefcase up there! He groaned, feeling the urge to bare down on the intruding object. All of his coding is screaming to push.

"Someone call for help!", Rewind snapped at the bar patrons , "Swerve, you need to talk to us! What's going on?"

"I-i don't know!" he cried out, tightening his grip on the table counter.

The thing was abusing his poor calipers to the point he thought he was going to blow a fuse. He just wanted it out! His frame was demanding he get it out!

Ohfragohfragohfrag!

He didn't know what was going on or what to do. He thought briefly of ignoring his frame and to wait for medical assistance since he could be doing more harm than good. But, frag it burned!

For what felt like forever Swerve fought against the urge to push. He whimpered, shoving a fisted servo in his mouth and bit down trying to distract himself. But, his valve kept throbbing angrily!

And, it felt wrong to battle his coding like this. Swerve decided at this point to listen to his frame. And with all his might he pushed.

"Mech, that's a lot of energon!" Blaster, who made his way from the stage, yelped.

If he had the energy to comment, Swerve would have snapped that yeah it was. And it hurt worse than getting shot directly in the spark! But the only thing that came out was a strained grunt.

Everytime the spasms in his middle got worse, Swerve would tighten his grip on the table. It creaked under the pressure of the distressed minibot. But, it was the only thing grounding him.

He could feel the object making its way down his narrow channel. It met with resistance every step of the way.

Offlining his visor, Swerve took in a fresh vent of cool air. Coolant was dripping down his face and his fans were whirling in an effort to cool him down. It popped through each ring of his valve disregarding how much it hurt him. So much so that Swerve was sure it was never coming out.

The thing nudged at the entrance of his valve. No longer caring about hiding his shame, Swerve parted his legs further. Just praying to Primus above that this would help incite the thing out. He let out one last strangled cry…!

Then, like that, it was all over. Something slipped free from his frame and landed on the ground with a wet slap. His abdomen no longer was squeezing him like a tube. The minibot slumped over relief that it stopped.

That was until he heard a weak cry. Startled, Swerve finally lost his ability to squat, and fell on his aft. He ignored the fact he was in a puddle of viscous liquid, too shocked by the sound. His helm snapped in the direction of the distressed noise. Between his thighs laid a...N-No way...

Right there, a new spark wiggled in a pool of muck. It's little fist waving in the air as it chirps for it's carrier. It's carrier.. Which was him. Swerve, he just went into emergence.

In a daze he picked up the sticky creature, and cradled it carefully in his arms. He stared down, lips pursed, and visor bright. The sparkling was small. So very small…

"Swerve! You were sparked?! Why didn't you say anything?" Bluestreak demanded to know while handing the new carrier a clean towel.

"I-...I didn't know", He admitted

"Swerve, are you serious right now?" Nautica's cool leveled voice cut through the chaos.

Swerve couldn't get his vocalizer to work at the moment, so he opted out to just nod in reply. He hadn't shown at all! His stomach had gotten a little more chubby, but it could have easily been chopped up to overfueling. He hadn't had bouts of nausea like t.v shows played up. Nor did he have any strange cravings. O-or any weird feelings other than a slightly increased libido. But he simply assumed that was from interfacing again after such a long dry spell.

This couldn't be right, could it? The last time he'd interface with a mech was… His visor flashed in alarm. Not only did he not know he was sparked, but there was only one mech who could be the sire….

But, that could wait. It had to since his processor couldn't handle that right now.

The fact of the matter though was Swerve was still in the middle of his bar. His legs were still parted for all to see. And everyone was seeing it.

It seemed like every bot in the bar had forgotten about the race. Since Swerve was surrounded by a swarm of curious onlookers. All optics staring at him.

He could see a mix of their different reactions. Some looked utterly appalled by the scene in front of them. Though could he really blame them? What just happened was… mortifying

Other bots like Nautica seemed concerned for him and the new bitlet. She was barking orders to give Swerve some fragging space. And blocking the view of his aching array.

He felt so thankful for that. Because he didn't have the strength to do much of anything besides hold his new creation.

"Well, now we know why he's single," he heard Chromedome quipped next to him.

Rewind jabbed the bigger mech with his elbow, casting him a dubious look before turning his attention back to the distressed bartender.

Who was now laughing. Swerve couldn't help it. This entire night was just so insane. And they kept tumbling out of him.

"Guess I have an excuse now,'' he said between giggles

This would be a moment when the crowd would cheer because of his zinger. For his perfect comedic timing, right ?

Because, this was hilarious. Almost like an episode of community or scrubs! An episode to remember for the ages! And-and…

A staticy sob erupted from his throat. He doubled over shielding his face from the crowd. Those giggles morphed into distressed keening.

Oh, sweet Primus. Swerve now regretted every instance where he had wished that his life was more like a sitcom. There wasn't a hilarious laugh track, nor could he muster a witty one liner.

He just sat on the floor with tears rolling down his cheeks. A sticky new spark cuddled in his arms with weak cries. His processor is swimming and optics glitching. He felt dizzy. When was the docbot going to arrive?

The edges of his vision were starting to get fuzzy. He couldn't focus on anything around him. Though he knew somebody was trying to talk to him. It was like all his sensors were turned off. And it was scary.

The last thing Swerve could make out was a voice. He fought against the growing darkness to find the source of the sound. But, he couldn't think properly…

"Not only did he win the race, but this daring speedster just broke the Cybertronian record for his velocity. No doubt, this is the most important day in Blurr's life!" The announcer's voice rang out from the long forgotten holoscreen.

Oh, yeah.. there was a race tonight. An important one. That he was looking forward to, but had caused a scene and ruined it for everyone ...That's...right.. but, at least Blurr won...

Optical feed was cut rendering the mini blind. It was fine though. Swerve was tired anyway. Recharge sounded nice.. Yeah, he needed rest. Swerve allowed himself to relax, slumping forward in the process, and he lost consciousness. The bar would be fine without him…