The Garbage Mech Cometh

Icefield Parkways Mily Way

garbagemechcometh:

Reuse hums softly in his vocalizer, optics twitching in the low lighting of the little room, glancing once more at the various funeral goods sitting here and there, gingerly picking up a delicate piece of parchment with what looks like prayers for a gentle trip to the Other Realms, or something that translates similarly. He’d spent the last two weeks scanning and cataloging everything that had writing, trying to figure out the local species language.

He is slow to answer, hesitant as he tries to figure everything out. So far, he’s found no seam or exit to the cave itself.

::I’m sorry for worrying you, Bee. I’m okay, my universe is still whole, I think. I don’t know what planet I’m on, only that I crashed…and…its taken this long for my frame to repair enough to come out of stasis.:: 

Reuse vents deeply, one slender hand coming up to rub his helm,  ::Whatever species is the dominant one on this planet interred me. Clearly they thought I was deceased. I’m in my own crypt. I…remember 2016, but I guess it is…2018 now?::

:: I-it is! It is! :: 

(Bee can’t keep the quiver out of his voice.) :: You’re okay! I-I’ll find you! Do you have a built-in distress beacon? Turn it on! I’ll come find you and bring you- um- home? My universe! I-I’ll keep you safe! I just need to find you! ::

The slender mech leans back on the slab, blinking rapidly at the very swift response, a shaky smile making its way onto his faceplates at the emotion in Beebee’s voice. 

::Its okay, Bee, but I don’t have a beacon. I guess I never really needed one before.:: He pauses, humming softly, ::I was very, very far out when I crashed, I remember that. If I can get out of this cave, then I can compare the database of star charts I have with the local sky...I don’t know what hit me, but it couldn’t have thrown me too far off course::

He is slow to answer, hesitant as he tries to figure everything out. So far, he’s found no seam or exit to the cave itself.

::I’m sorry for worrying you, Bee. I’m okay, my universe is still whole, I think. I don’t know what planet I’m on, only that I crashed...and...its taken this long for my frame to repair enough to come out of stasis.:: 

Oh now THAT was a dirty little trick! One that had the shadowy silently letting out a huff. Yes, they needed real fuel, but they were not going to be tempted to vacate their hiding spot until they were absolutely 100% SURE that the silver mech was truly in recharge and not just dosing. Besides, they were trying to save energy in the first place, so staying put until they noticed a change in electrical fields that would indicate that the current ‘guard’ was out like a light instead of keeping an optic open in the metaphorical sense.

He does honestly want to know who his little visitor is, and just WHY they are here, but...it doesn’t seem like that is going to happen. He could just set up the surveillance cameras to record whoever it is...hrm...that might be the best bet in this situation, since he is very aware that his frame is very very close to shutting itself down despite all his efforts. It wasn’t like he was lacking energon, but sheer exhaustion was wearing him down.

Another gusty sigh/yawn makes him shift on the couch, and he gives in, sending a ping to the security system to record the living room and the rest of the base before he drops off. Squirming onto his side, he hums softly, before his chin drops to his chest, his systems cycling down.

What he heard was distorted and muffled as if he were behind a wall, but at least one of the voices were slightly recognizable; the other was the strange voice that had given him pause to question just where he might currently be. He may have even gotten his head to turn towards the sounds, but he uttered a groan as it just added another three mysterious indicators to pop up and two to disappear. 

It would have been nice to know just what it was those indicators were trying to, well, indicate, but he lacked the knowledge in his still spotty memory database. Also, Reuse had never seemed to have-  

Wait… the muffled voice sounded vaguely like Reuse’s the longer he listened, but if that were the case, was he in the base then? Maybe that really WAS the silver mech just outside of a door speaking to someone else. Did that mean he perhaps just had fallen into an unconscious state? But what would have caused the sudden corrupted data and unconsciousness?

Trying to speak was met with nothing more than a series of clicks, which in turn added yet another indicator to activate in his already overcrowded field of ‘vision’ behind his shuttered optics. Well, he assumed that indicator meant something was wrong with whatever served as a vocal emitter in this frame, but he didn’t know how to fix that or ‘reset’ it somehow.

His attention flicks to Weebs after a moment, optics searching quickly over the tiny frame before he realizes that the bitty mech is simply just slowly waking up, and perhaps encountering a few errors in the process. Poor little bitty. He will have to do something nice for him after this is done, after he’s in working order and can choose for himself for once...

With a faint groan, Reuse hauls himself up onto the berth as directed, nodding at the medic as the large mech turns away to gather up the necessary supplies. Everything he brings over is looked at with interest, bright golden optics wide and intrigued. He can’t QUITE help it, and queries with a chirp, “What is that? It looks very similar to the microdermal welder I used to use on my drones, but its a slightly different shape...?”

His speech lags only a second as the little scanner is plugged into the back of his helm, startling a few wide opticed blinks from the slender silver mech. It isn’t an invasive program or scan, and was distinctively non-painful, simply skimming through his vastly outdated firewalls and updates. Primus knows its probably been a couple thousand vorn since he’d even seen a real medic, let alone gotten any sort of reliable update. “Interesting feeling.”

He hums softly at Red’s comment, watching him avidly as he moves to stand before him, offering his large servo and asking for his own, “I could offer my own medical knowledge from my universe? Erm, it isn’t very complete, as I was never intended to be a medic, but it may be useful? I did collect a number of files, and I can package it for you.”

It wasn’t until the thunder grew louder and the fall of rain became a heavy downpour that finally dragged the little monochrome bot from his lul and very quickly changed the situation from one of just wanting a little time to himself to try and comprehend the current situation with his arms, to one of quickly rising panic. Panic at the fact that he was currently staring at a wall of water covering the opening to the alcove, whiting out everything beyond; Not to mention the deafening noise of the thunder that seemed to shake everything around him and magnify the noise level tenfold due to his location. 

A close blast of lightning, and Reuse instinctively flinches, drawing in the wings and sending himself plummeting hard to the ground with a SQUELCH of mud and water...and seemingly, feathers. A veritable pile of feathers are scattered over the ground, quickly being torn away by the wind. Groaning, the slender silver mech cracks his optics open, flinching at a runnel of mud that careens past his nasal ridge. Whatever magic had been keeping his arms as wings has abandoned his frame, and he finds himself back to normal...though, all this does is force him to wonder where his tiny ward is and how HE is, and to put even more effort into his search.

“WHEATBEE?” He bellows into the storm as he hauls himself up, cranking the volume on his vocalizer to almost painful levels. Half closing his optics, he breaks into a trot, hunched against the lightning. The little mech couldn’t have gone THAT far...venting again, he huffs. 

“WHEATBEE! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

Once he had passed the overly large entrance that actually had a smaller doorway built in to allow for someone of his size to enter and exit without opening the entire entryway, the little monochrome bot stepped out into what was an overcast day with low gray clouds that allowed very little sunlight to peek through. If Wheatbee would have been in more of an observant mood, he might have rethought his plan of seeking a place of solace when it looked as though it might rain at any moment. BUT, his mood was dampened and he was on a mission to find somewhere he could hole away for a little while. 

Footfalls led Wheatbee to a sheltered alcove tucked away in the side of a hill a fair distance away from the underground base. Thankfully it wasn’t much of a climb and he could easily traverse the rocky ground without having to worry about the lack of hands or digits with which to grab. Feathery arms were about as useful as his normal ones for a trek such as this, and he was quickly finding that while he had no current hands, he could still crawl using them to support himself. 

Sighing, wings floofing as he stands, he shakes a few stray feathers off of his lap. He really needs to just go look and see if he can track down Wheatbee’s path, and maybe find where the bitty mech had gone to. The island isn’t always the safest place, if just referring to the very curious bunches of tourists that will steal anything not nailed down. Idly, he pings the weather report for the area and pauses. That was definitely not a positive sign. Torrential rain, lightning, possibly small areas of flooding. Lovely.

Huffing against the probability of getting extremely wet just from going outside, he shakes his wings up with a shiver of feathers, and strides determinedly to the large doors leading to the surface...only to stagger back in the gale that seems to have invaded his small island in the time he’d fallen to recharge.

Still, he ducks his helm, and strides out into it, peering through the driving rain with an annoyed huff...only to realize he had no idea where Wheatbee could be hiding...there were simply too many different possibilities.

One wing comes up to swipe water off his cheeks as he pauses, only to call out loudly, “Wheatbee!? Where are you? Call out if you can hear me!”

The slender silver mech continues his trek, pedes sinking into the rapidly soaking grass and dirt, churning up more than a bit of mud as he walks. “Weebs!? We need to get into shelter before...”

...And as he says the words, a massive strike of lightning blasts into a dead tree not thirty yards from where Reuse stands, his audials glitching from the volume of sound as the sodden wood bursts and smokes liberally, chunks strewn about the grass.

“BEFORE MORE OF THAT HAPPENS!” He YELPS out, huddling close to the ground as he tries to continue his search, his sensors and tracker on Weebs not at all helped by the interference from the storm. 

Fifteen minutes after that, and the silvery mech is drooping noticeably. 

With a grunt, Reuse determinedly hauls himself to his pedes, forcing himself to wake up by pacing for a few moments, before giving in to the urge to draw himself a cube of energon. May as well. His levels were acceptable, but on the low side...and as the liquid energy is dispensed, he hums softly to himself. If the creature in his couch was a human, it might need water and food and warmth...but if its a mechanism, like himself, it might need fuel.

Pursing his lips, he tries a different tactic, and makes a loud show of enjoying his energon, “Mmmm, so good! This is the best solar energon I’ve ever had.” 

He pauses, theatrically SIGHING, “Too bad I can’t finish the whole cube... well... I’ll just leave it here for now, and nap on the couch.”

He sets the cube gently on the floor, and settles himself gingerly on the couch, forcing himself into a low level recharge while his sensor suite kicks up, actively scanning for the TINIEST movement in the room.  Of course, he is exhausted, and has to force himself not to just outright go into deep recharge while pretending.

After a few attempts, Wheatbee let out a small, soft groan; Okay, apparently visual feeds were not operational at the moment. This meant he couldn’t exactly assess his current state or environment that he was in, although he could make out sounds and possibly voices. One of them was not familiar at all, which made Wheatbee pause and wonder just where he was; and more importantly it gave him pause as he tried to recall what had happened before the moments leading up to the now.

Why were his memories full of fuzzy, half-formed data? What had happened? Why were his optics apparently offline? Or the very least why couldn’t he unshutter them? 

His cheeks pinken at remembered embarrassment, and he resets his vocalizer with a nod, “Erm, right...hopefully he’ll come around soon, and maybe be able to explain a little better as to how he feels, or what he thinks may have happened.”

Tentatively, he reaches out to stroke the tiny helm of Weebs, his attention drawn once more to Red as he absently leaves his servo there. ”Erm... technically my entire frame is just...” He hums softly, tilting his helm as he considers, before his slender servos entreatingly spread before him. “More than old, I guess you’d say? Without having had my frame replaced, I likely would have passed into the Well before the Golden Age within my universe had ended. Or not...”

He blinks, and shrugs, “Where I come from, when I come from, the spark lasts as long as the will of the mech continues...so, I imagine everything on me needs a tuneup...but nothing is specifically nagging. I would think I’m in quite good shape, actually. My hips and spinal strut tend to give me grief when I first come out of recharge, and I’m quite sure my antivirus and the like is vastly out of date...I’m surprised I haven’t picked up anything from the human internet actually.”

He chortles before turning bright golden optics up to the much larger and heavier mech with a beaming smile, a helpless little shrug lifting his shoulders, “I guess the term little old mech is accurate in this situation? Its not a matter of one thing needing tweaking, its just a matter of where to start and how much is able to be done without going past what my frame can handle. To start though, I do believe, erm, that the fine motor control in my servos could use a look at.”

Both antennas lowered and swiveled backwards until they were touching his head, his discontentment with the current predicament easily read across both his features and body language as his shoulders drooped to match his now crestfallen mood. 

It is everything he can do not to just chase after Wheatbee, clutch him tightly to his chest, and croon soft nothings while trying to make him feel better. His wings fluffle at the thought, a soft huff escaping him...”Yeah, that’s fine. Just erm, stay away from any high places, of the windy side of the island, okay?”

Reuse can’t quite help the little giggle that escapes him, “I’d rather not have to come catch you if you fly away...or get lifted up by the winds. Just keep your wings tightly tucked...erm...since it IS an island, that would just end up with you in the water.”

That threat alone should be enough to stop Weebs from trying anything dangerous...the fear of the deep shores around the island should be enough to ensure caution. “If you erm, need me, I’ll be here.”