Ep. 1.5 - The Big Mech Sits Alone [Endymion]

[Deleted]

//ooc// Takes place during Week 1, Day 7.

He didn't want to go back to berth. He didn't want to lock himself in his room again, where the comforting dark would sear away into brightness as soon as he stepped into the hall. He didn't want to try sitting with the Vehicons, who were still avoiding him despite what had happened in Australia. He didn't want to remain idle, but he didn't want to be somewhere where he might run into the senior officers — Soundwave, Shockwave, Starscream, and especially Megatron.

The unused corner near one of the common rooms would do. The broken light into in the dead-end corridor meant it was dim enough not to irritate his bad optic; a migraine was starting to form behind it. There wasn't much traffic off in that section of the ship, meaning there would be no unexpected bangs, clangs or footfalls that would send him into a whirlwind of pain. When he coughed — and he did have coughing fits, especially after the dune-jumping at Haven — no one would be around to get sprayed with flecks of Energon. He really should have indulged tailgate so soon after the hit from Fortress Maximus, but the bitlet had been so kindly, so innocent and so sad....

Buffalo Dump shook his head. He was glad Knock Out was busy fussing around in the medical bay; the good Doctor wouldn't have been pleased to hear about the coughing. B-Dump had done it as long as he could remember, but he'd been given orders to report to the Doc if it worsened or produced any fluid. Both such things had occurred, but there was B-Dump, sitting by himself as he waited for a headache to pass, sipping on a ration of half-finished Energon.

[Deleted]

There wasn't anything particular about today that robbed him of his peace; he wasn't recycling memories through his mind, or forcing his processor to repeat the things he'd said or did over and over until they mulled together into one great mass. He had the kind of restlessness that came from having and absolutely ordinary day, with no bumps or failures to be kicking himself about as he usually did. It unnerved him, as these days didn't come often, and when he did he typically assumed that it meant something much worse was right around the corner. Maybe it was the calm before the storm that perplexed him; the thought that he was only okay now because he wouldn't be fine later.

The nav. tech roamed the halls of the Nemesis in search of something to break the metaphorical glass of what was going on in his mind. He hadn't been off-ship in joors, likely his own fault, as he kept accepting tasks around the ship and not accepting tasks that would take him down. However, it did give him the opportunity to sort-of socialize with his crewmates; even if this 'socializing' came in waves of Endymion awkwardly waving at bots he recognized in the hall and not actually talking to them. It was a step forward, but not quite a full pace yet.

Endymion's internal rambling and external roaming took him to a common room, wherein he took note of the broken light, briefly wondering if he could fix it. He couldn't tell if it was wiring or replacement that needed tending to; if it was wiring, he might go fix it if he found nothing else to do. He raised both arms to touch the top of the doorway as he strolled in to the common room, not expecting there to be anyone else residing within the room.

Embarrassingly enough, he straightened up at seeing a mech in the corner, lowering his arms. A slight flutter went through his door-wings as he took in the sight of him, concern immediately crossing his processor. He briefly wondered if he could stealthily grab an energon ration and sneak back out; he didn't make much noise as he entered the room. However, he couldn't just ignore the guy in the corner. After all...

"You look like slag, man."

Endymion announced. Yeah, like the guy needs to be reminded of that, he thought to himself, inwardly groaning at how stupid that sentence sounded. He crossed the room swiftly, looking at the other mech in worry. He recognized him from around the ship; he seemed like the kind of bot that maybe waved back at him at his own waves. Endymion approached him, but gave him some space, leaning his shoulder against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, peds crossed at the ankles. He felt kind of bad for not remembering the other mech's name, but it would come to him in a moment or two.

"Apologies. I meant, are you okay?"

[Deleted]

The sound of footsteps made B-Dump lift his head; his sight was on Endymion instantly. They glowed faintly in the near-dark, his bad optic held in a squint as he pulled his field back. The navigational mech might have been able to catch wisps of quiet-pain-contentment-resting radiating from B-Dump, but they were faint. The big mech was getting better at keeping his EMF to himself.

"I'm fine," Buffalo Dump said, stretching out a leg to rest on the floor. The movement made a twinge go up his torso, but it faded away just as quickly as it had come. "I like the dark. 'S' quiet 'n' peaceful, givin' me plenty of time to think."

The waste-worker's lip quirked. It was a bit more human-looking than the other Cybertronians', a fact that both surprised him and unnerved him. Sometimes, he shuddered at his own reflection, reminded too much of an infamous mech that had torn apart a certain warden. He'd never met Overlord in person, but the Decepticon was legendary in his brutality and his efficiency. The insult thrown at Fortress Maximus had been painful for B-Dump to make, as he never would've wished such cruelty on anybody.

And yes, that included Megatron.

"I've not been on Earth long," the mech continued. "Don't know many here. You're...hm. You're one of the nav-mechs, but I can't seem to remember your name, younglin'."

He turned a little to face Endymion better. His squinting optic shut just a tad more.

"'M'name's Buffalo Dump. Most call me 'B-Dump', but I guess y'can call me whatever you're comfortable with."

[Deleted]

He did look like slag. Endymion's own field shifted from wariness to immediate concern, but he quickly tried to suppress that; pity wasn't something that many were gung-ho about receiving. He briefly considered sliding down to sit on the floor with him, but he wasn't entirely sure of if his presence was welcomed yet; and so he remained standing, but let his posture fall. There was no need to be outwardly cocky, as the situation didn't call for it.

"I'm no doctor, but ya couldn't be feelin'.. good. What happened?"

Endymion asked this in a concerned fashion, not one of complete noisiness. Although it would be a lie to claim he wasn't being nosy at all; he hadn't gotten many opportunities to scout yet, and so, it would be nice to hear about what was going on off-ship. He let his field strengthen, hoping that he wasn't giving off anything that might suggest malicious intent.

At the fact that the conversation continued (most bots were blunt with him, and would have told him to frag off by now), he slid down the wall and sat down beside him, letting his long legs stretch out, wincing as his peds clicked as he flexed them. He looked over at him as he spook, nodding before snorting at being called 'younglin'. He wouldn't refute it, as it would be stupid to claim he was older than he was, but still.

"I'm not.. that young." Endymion muttered, although his expression didn't match the statement. He really was 'that young'. The navigation tech almost laughed at B-Dump's name, just because it was so odd. If he had met him previously, he would have remembered a name that.. eclectic? He suppressed his laugh, but a smile still played at the edges of his lips. "Uh, B-Dump it is. Nice to meet you."

"Endymion." He stated, looking over at him before giving a bit of a wince at realizing that wasn't a full sentence. "Is my name. And you're right, I work in nav'. What do you do?" He asked, mostly because he couldn't figure out what in Primus' name B-Dump's alt mode was supposed to be, and henceforth he couldn't assume from there. Endymion had a feeling that it probably wasn't a sports car, though.

[Deleted]

"I'm no doctor, but ya couldn't be feelin'.. good. What happened?"

"Eh, life," said B-Dump, shrugging off the concerned question with a literal lift of his wheel-shoulders. "Little bit o' smackin' around, but nothin' out of the usual."

... "Endymion." He stated, looking over at him before giving a bit of a wince at realizing that wasn't a full sentence. "Is my name. And you're right, I work in nav'. What do you do?" He asked, mostly because he couldn't figure out what in Primus' name B-Dump's alt mode was supposed to be, and henceforth he couldn't assume from there. Endymion had a feeling that it probably wasn't a sports car, though.

"Guard duty," said Buffalo Dump, taking another swig of his energon. He wouldn't say he wasn't scrapped up, but he wasn't affirming Endymion's words either. Who knew who might be listening in. "If someone needs an extra pair o' hands 'round the energon mines or for liftin' or somethin', they usually call me in. Not a frontliner by any means, but I can lift fifty-five thousand pounds. Was sparked for it."

He held out his right arm so that Endymion might see the faded, scratched-out markings that Polyhex had put on him.

"'Waste Unit B-D21M-Pol'. Member o' the Polyhexian Waste Authority, specifically assigned to B-Sector. The 'Dead End', they called it."

He pulled his arm back, and continued to drink. His free servo went to flick something off one of the thin "horns" that came from the top of his helm. Even with the dim lighting, Endymion might be able to make out the dark green and bold white of an Earth-made garbage truck. His forks, rested against B-Dump's back as they were, looked to be alt-mode kibble fused to the frame.

"You been here long?" asked Buffalo Dump. "Thought I saw you walkin' around when I came on here. Vehicons said ya came with the ship, or somethin'. Don't know many that stayed with the Nemesis when it left Cybertron, and that whole thing wit' the space bridge. Lotta sparks just sucked to nowhere, and...boom."

He closed one servo, then rapidly opened it again to mimic an explosion.

"Ya know how it is."

[Deleted]

Endymion rose a brow at the mention of how much he could lift. He couldn't help but feel incredibly small in comparison; he weighed maybe a fraction of what the other mech did, and certainly couldn't lift anything close to that. Unlike Buffalo Dump, he wasn't built for sturdiness. "That's quite impressive." Endymion seemed to give him another once-over, making a mental note that it would be beneficial to stay off this bot's bad side. "Understandable, then, that you'd be on guard duty, but still awful that it gets ya banged up like that."

Were he in B-Dump's position, he wouldn't have anything of the sort. Endymion wasn't big on being knocked around; in a way, he preferred the toil of being ship-bound as opposed to constantly patching himself up. His optics focused on the markings that crossed B-Dump's arm, narrowing a little as he looked them over. He finally made the connection between what Buffalo Dump was saying and his alt-mode, giving a curt nod. It interested him that he'd willingly choose to be a garbage truck, but different bots got kicks out of different things. He chose to leave his judgement for now, as the last thing he wanted to do was frag up a potentially helpful connection.

"Been here since we left Cybertron, yeah..." He trailed a little, not wanting to get too into that point. "I like to think I was the first one on the ship. I thought it'd be more of an adventure, but for the most part I'm stuck up here, doing whatever I can to 'further the cause'. " Endymion wasn't bitter, so much as bored. It showed in the way his matte black armour was impeccable; he hadn't felt dirt under his pedes in a while. The mech gave a soft laugh at his description and explosion motions with his servo, looking up at him. "It's been a trip, to say the least."

"I've gotta assume you're one of those guys that just happened to land face-down on this beautiful planet." He spoke with a hint of sarcasm, not intended toward B-Dump, but toward the frequency of crash landings that seemed to occur on this planet. For a moment the thought of a flying waste management truck crossed his mind, amusing him greatly internally. "No offense, of course. That's much more exciting of an arrival than simply being seen as an accessory to the ship. All that pomp and circumstance, right?"

[Deleted]

The sarcasm was not lost on Buffalo Dump. "M'flight went well, actually," he said, "'cept for the part where I learned I was a couple o' galaxies off course. Was headed to see a couple o' friends o' mine, an' well...."

He motioned at the ship with his cube-wielding hand.

"Found this. Not a bad thing, o' course; Lord Megatron's alive and well. We're still winnin' the war, even if the planet's kind of...gone."

It then occurred to the mech that his Energon was sorely lacking something. Raising a massive fist to his chest-hatch, he tapped twice, the great space's hatch opening with a creak. Fishing around inside with his free hand, the waste-worker produced a flask, unscrewing the cap with his teeth. It had been fashioned from an old industrial barrel, the stopper a scrap of metal roughly twisted into a cylinder. The tangy, pungent smell of pine wafted from the opening, floating like a lilleth on a breeze — the odour/aroma was another thing entirely. B-Dump had been told Pine-Sol could wallop one's olfactory sensors, and he blamed his Dead-Ender's pallette for his food choices. One mech's poison was another mech's plug, or however the saying went.

Liberally adding the cleaning product to his drink, the mech put his ration down, pulled the stopper from his teeth, and reapplied it to his flask. Tipping it upside-down to see if it held fast, the mech tossed the container back into his hatch, then shoved the chest-space's hatch shut. He took a moment to swirl the cube around, knocking back the muddy-looking cocktail in three seconds flat. He looked back over at Endymion, waiting for the other mech to say or do something next.

But not before asking, of course, "So what're you doin' all the way down here?"

[Deleted]

There was the faintest twitch in the lower frame of his left optic at the mention of Cybertron being gone. Good riddance was his first thought, but if they weren't fighting for the glory of their first planet, what did they have to fight for? He rested his servos on the tops of his legs, not saying too much about the war or of their home planet. He wished he could relate to the way some bots spoke wistfully of the planet, but he couldn't bring himself to process the weight of what Cybertron meant to him, let alone convert that to some sort of sickening nostalgia for what was left behind.

A sudden smack of fragrance hit his olfactory sensors, jerking him out of his thoughts. Endymion looked up at the Mech, emitting a high pitched noise that could be regarded as a whistle, and murmur of "Primus!" It smelt.. like trees. Like that barrel of whatever held within it a forest (albeit one that was coated in whatever chemical made him recoil a bit in alertness), and somehow Buffalo Dump was consuming it? His browplates drew together, pinching the metal between his optics as he looked slightly perplexed at what B-Dump was willingly consuming. "What is that?"

He sat there, contently huffing whatever that smell was, looking at the now empty ration. Endymion briefly wondered if whatever B-Dump was drinking made him invincible to the undoubtable pain he must be in; were it Endymion on his condition, there would be a lot more whining and a lot less conversation. He shrugged at his question, looking up at him with a playful little grin.

"Came down here looking for strays. Convincing mechs they should go to the med bay is a hobby of mine, you know. Maybe I could make it into a sport."

Endy teased at first, but he was mostly serious. His concern for others was something most Decepticons didn't have time for, and so he quickly continued speaking, in the case B-Dump took offense to that sort of concern.

"Mostly boredom. The ship seems huge, but after a while you get to know every corridor and crevice. Usually you don't find bots down here though, so I've gotta ask you the same question."

[Deleted]

...His browplates drew together, pinching the metal between his optics as he looked slightly perplexed at what B-Dump was willingly consuming. "What is that?"

"Pine-Sol," Buffalo Dump said, a whuff of pine-tinged exhaust spilling from his vents. "Earth food. Humans pour it on the ground to make it smell nice, and somehow they drink it through their olfactory sensors, apparently. Tried a little m'self — good with rations, great with high grade."

He leaned back, contented, and let Endymion do all the talking. The big mech stared at the wall in front of him, quietly absorbing everything the smaller 'bot said. He grunted at the medic comment, field not betraying any offense or issue, and instead flickered with interest at the mention of the area's solitude. B-Dump turned his head when the conversation drifted back to him, looking down at Endymion with a weary expression.

"'S'quiet," said the garbage mech. "Vehicons still a bit shy 'round me; don't think they like me very much. Come down here t'think and drink, not get drunk though — we've got Haven for that."

There were still some dregs of pine-scented Energon in his cube. B-Dump tilted his head back, swishing the remnants around his mouth, letting their sharp tang settle on his glossa. Swallowing, the waste-worker wiped his mouth with the back of a giant servo, again letting out another forest-scented vent.

[Deleted]

Endymion took in air deeply, appreciating the tingly sensation it left throughout his olfactory sensors. He looked perplexed at the thought of humans.. 'pouring things on the ground to make it smell nice'. He did a quick search on Pine-Sol through his systems, humming at what came up from the organic's primitive 'world wide web'. Weird stuff.

"And it doesn't kick you offline upon consumption?"

Despite being here so long, he was still a bit wary of.. Earth stuff. Everything still seemed somewhat odd and potentially dangerous to him. He stuck with the assumption that things that were produced or linked to organics didn't mix with Cybertronians, and that it was a bad idea to assume that anything was safe. He lifted his optic ridges at the mention of Haven.

"I don't spend much time there. Personally, I think it sounds like a bad idea- too much mixing.. end up with mechs you think are your friends and before you know it, you've got a hole blown in your back."

Endymion shrugged, looking back up at Buffalo Dump. In reality, Endymion had spent no time there at all, spending most time off-ship by himself. He was trusting... to an extent. He couldn't quite get over faction lines, as they were something he felt should remain rigid and implemented. It didn't make sense to him that someone would willingly put themselves in a situation that could get risky.

"Why would you go to Haven, anyway?"

[Deleted]

"And it doesn't kick you offline upon consumption?"

"Nope," Buffalo Dump replied. "Might make someone a wee bit buzzed in t'process-pan, though. I've eaten 'n' drank 'nough things in life that probably gave m'tank it's own protective coat. Not as bad as one of the Insectibeasts, though."

He chuckled a little, one leg stretching out to ease a pinching feeling in the hydraulics. He listened to Endymion's thoughts on the Neutral base, and couldn't help but frown and nod in agreement. Too much risk of fraternization, too many chances of getting emotionally attached, too much high-grade to trust sensitive knowledge with — luckily, B-Dump never got drunk. Or talked to the Autobranders. Or, y'know, forgot to use common sense whenever he was down planetside; he was slow, not stupid. All his restricted intelligence-coding did was put a cap on what he could and couldn't learn, such as getting more than a basic grasp of chemistry and physics.

"Why would you go to Haven, anyway?"

Buffalo Dump gave a moment of pause before answering.

"...Because I'm not a flier," the mech said. "I need somethin' solid beneath my wheels once in a while. Somethin' more than the stale air o' a ship that's circling 'round like a cryo-condor. I want somethin' nice an' peaceful and quiet, somethin' where I can see sun an' clouds. Can't always stay up top, it's our flight deck. If it got busy enough, I'd either get in the way or fall."