Adventuring {Closed; Flashback}

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Set a long time ago (Megatron was still D-16 for example)

Oh how the lights, the sounds, and the crowds excited the little sparkling. The chatter that left her, was almost nothing but questions that would dip into basic from time to time. She was trying not to, but it was so much easier to express her thoughts being so young. Her two creators didn't think much of it, she was still only a sparkling and she was still learning about the world around her. That had been the reason for this little outing, especially since there were dancers from their cohort performing in the little parade.

“See Rotary, there's Octane and Crankpin...” The mech mentioned pointing out the two dancers. Rota was currently on top of his shoulders, clapping her sevos together as she bopped her head to the music that played on loud speakers. “And there is Flywheel, see her up in the air?” The silvery femme asked her as pointed out the purple and silver jet in the sky. “She's the one who thought of Rota as a nickname for you...” The young femme's smile widen but, she was getting tired of sitting on top of the mech's shoulders.

“Down, please?” She asked slowly, and the mech glanced at his conjunx-endura who simply shrugged her own shoulders. “If she wants down, she wants down. Besides, she did ask politely.” Rota gave a cheerful little smile and bobbed her head as she waited as patiently as possible to be set onto the ground. Which she was, with the utmost care and he stooped down slightly to keep hold of her much smaller servos. The last thing either of them wanted, was for her to wander off with this crowd.

“I'll get her a rust stick, she's been so good these last couple of breem's and I think she deserves it.” The femme mentioned, speaking in a lower tone so their sparkling wouldn't over hear them and ruin the little 'surprise'. “Agreed, here, I have a couple of shanix on me.” Rota's servos was let go, and the young sparkling used the opportunity to wander away from the pair – she was following an interesting and a pretty pink femme who had a slight jittery walk.

Of course by the time the mech and the femme noticed she had wandered away? Well, Rota had already walked carefully around the legs of the much older members of the crowd as she followed the curious looking femme. It wasn't like it was a horribly long walk, as it taken less than fifteen kliks to get to a much different part of town. The femme she had been following? Was long gone, and Rota was alone as she slowly moved around the trash filled street. It was darker here, gloomier, and certainly different from the shinier parts of Iacon.

Being so young, she simply didn't understand how dangerous it was in this part of the city and her head tilted in curiosity at her new surroundings. “Helllooooo?” She called down the alleyway and her smile widen as she heard her voice echo back to her. Even the giggle that left her was echoing and her optics were bright and cheerful.

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This was as far as he was allowed to go into Iacon. No longer being on the replacement Iaconian shifts, he'd been stripped of his privileges to enter the gleaming city; it's rusting suburbs were his alone. Though the slums on the edge weren't nearly as bad as the Dead End's, they were still filthy and broken-down, so much harsher than the heart of the city.

Primus, did he want to be in Iacon again. It was beautiful, shining like fresh glass and polished metal, and it was clean. Everything was as high as the sun and skies, glimmering with blue and glittering in the dim Cybertronian sun. Not a touch of rust was to be seen anywhere, and during the rainy season, the chemical storms probably slicked off the buildings like lubricant. The giant mech rested his hands on the wall, gently drawing them down to feel the cool, crude build under his fingertips.

Every day felt stranger and stranger. He was getting more external input, and he was stopping more to listen to the lilleths sing, or the wind blow. Some of the older waste-bots told him that it was normal, that sometimes the optics were "a bit more open" for some, but he didn't understand what they meant. It was more confusing when they chuckled and smiled at him, calling him "cute" and "a sweetspark".

B-D21M-Pol was not cute. He was a waste-bot. The cute ones lived in the Towers, he'd been told, and he would get in trouble if he said he did when he didn't. He'd already made the mistake once of saying he lived in Iacon, when he really meant he was just staying there. His pay had been docked for that, and his boss had yelled at him and smacked him over the helm. That had hurt, and he didn't like being hit and yelled at, so he wouldn't do it again —

"Helllooooo?"

The garbage mech turned his head. The high-pitched, giggling voice, all femme-like in how it sounded, was coming from around the bend. Cocking his head to one side, the mech made a creaky turn and stepped forward.

"Hul-lo?"

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Compared to not only the garbage mech, and many many others, the little sparkling didn't have many 'forbidden zones'. Sure, there were places she could not go – but they were within reason and would always be within reason why she shouldn't go there. But as someone so young and didn't have any reason to hesitate formed just yet? Rota was just being a curious creature and wanting to see a different area than what she was used to.

Of course, there was one single brief moment of thought that maybe. Just maybe. This was not a good area. That brief moment died quickly as she called out her little cheerful hello, and there was a 'hullo' in reply. Another giggle, and the young femme stepped into the alleyway before she did a little twirl, mimicking the dancers she seen earlier in the day. “Where are you?” She asked curiously as she rounded the bend.

The sparkling's skipping and twirling came to a screeching halt as her optics fell on the garbage mech. Her smile was growing, stretched across her little face. “Hi!” Her voice was cheerful, and she even bounced a little before crossing her legs in order to 'curtsy' for him in a polite little manner before straightening out. Her helm was tilting now, in order to try and look up at the giant in front of her. He was massive and she was all sorts of curious about him as she kept leaning back and back – until she ended up falling backwards onto the dirty ground with a little 'thump!'.

Her face scrunched up for a moment, more out of shock than actually being hurt – which was a good thing considering it wasn't the cleanest of places. She stayed put, legs stretched out in front of her as her head tilted and a soft little giggle left her. “What's your name...?” The words were tinged with basic as she kept looking up at him.

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She was smaller than a minibot. She was smaller than his knee. She was smaller than a trash can.

She was as small as the palm of his hand.

He spent a good ten seconds staring quietly down at the femme. He had never seen anything so tiny, not even in the Dead End. Her eyes were the brightest blue he'd ever seen, and her plating looked fresh, for lack of a better word. She moved on dainty feet, like a lilleth hopping about for food — Primus, even her colours were like theirs! He half-expected her to show of a pair of wings, tipped with glassy feathers that tinkled together as they flapped.

Getting down on one knee, the mech cocked his head to the other side. It wasn't he hadn't seen the femme's kind before — he just didn't know where. Most of his time in Iacon was a bit of a blur, full of sights and sounds and shining places he couldn't quite reach or understand. These small ones were precious, oh so precious and valuable, and he wasn't allowed to go near them. The Cybertronians in the city proper had been afraid he might break the littler ones, scooting them away whenever he got close. Some had said sorry that they were in his way, but why would he mind? He was the one that was supposed to be in their way.

“What's your name...?”

"Waste Unit B-D21M-Pol," the mech replied in a monotone. It was easy for him to blurt out the automatic reply, though he still lacked the knowledge on getting a friendly tone right. "Property of the Polyhexian Waste Authority. On standby for waste removal services in Polyhex's Sector D."

He reached out a hand, wanting to pat the little creature on her head. He hesitated, then drew it back. "Who you?" B-D21M-Pol asked in return.

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While the mech had never seen someone so tiny, Rota had never seen someone so big – and that was from a femme who thought the mechs in her cohort were massive.

This one? He likely towered over even the tallest members of her cohort. His plating was duller too, but really? She didn't care. He was friendly enough, and she understood that he was crouching down in order to be closer to her minuscule height. Though, when he said his name and that he was property of something something something...Her little helm tilted in a confused matter. What did that mean? Rota had no idea, and she would simply forget that snippet of information.

Then again she would likely forget most of this encounter with him, her growing mind had other things to remember.

Though for now, she was interested in her new friend and her optics widened as his servos almost patted her on the head. It was so incredibly big, that she thought he was going to crush her! He stopped though, and the nervous look was fading away as he asked her who she was.

But first...

“Buh.” She started with his weird and difficult name. “Uhmp” Her little face scrunched up. “Bumpy.” Her voice was more sure of this. That was his name. Bumpy. The little femme's smile was back, all proud of herself before tilting her head curiously up at him. “Ro-tah-ry.” She had to pronounce her name a little, as if she was still unsure and shaky with some words. “Or Rota.” Her pedes shuffled a bit boredly as she continued to peer up at him.

“They call me that.” That phrase, was said completely in basic and there was a sudden realization that 'they', her creators, weren't nearby. Her helm turned, glancing for them before a look of fear shifted onto her face. “Dunno where....” Her little voice trailed off and a little tremble was visibly seen going through her tiny frame. There was fear there, growing so quickly that Rota didn't know what to do. “I want them Buh-mpy.” Her words trembled, she was getting upset about not having her cohort nearby.

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“Ro-tah-ry.” She had to pronounce her name a little, as if she was still unsure and shaky with some words. “Or Rota.” Her pedes shuffled a bit boredly as she continued to peer up at him.

“They call me that.”

"Ro-ta-ry."

He muttered the word back to the shiny little femme, rubbing his chin a little while he processed the name. The syllables slowly chugged through his processor, eventually finding a place in his memory banks. He didn't seem to notice or care about what she had called him — he had a feeling she was like him. Big words could be confusing, and his designation was long to say. "Or Ro-ta, for short. Designation ack-nowl-edged. It's nice to meet you, Ro-ta-ry — "

The little creature had begun to whimper. She wanted something, and her tiny body was now shaking. Was she sick? Was she not feeling well? The littler ones weren't supposed to be in places like this. The way they were treated, they were probably so hard to make, and so delicate — what was she even doing down there?! She was too close to the ground, where cyberticks and rust spores and mecha-mites surely lived!

"N-now now," said the wasteworker, "d-don't cry, lit-tle thing — lit-tle Ro-ta. I, uh, we'll find 'them'...you just got ta tell me what you were lookin' fer."

He had to get her off the ground, he had to get her off the ground.... And he couldn't help her up, because they were too breakable to handle!

"What...what d'ya need, ti-ny Rota? Where d'ya need to go?"

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If she hadn't became suddenly aware that her creators were gone, well...Rota would of replied that it was nice to meet him too.

And in all honesty? It was nice to meet him, especially as he was quick to try to soothe her like any other older cohort member would have done with her. Still, she whimpered and started to shake because she suddenly wanted the two older mecha who were likely frantically looking for her among the crowd. “c-c-Creators.” The tiny little femme whimpered out as her small helm turned this way and that in order to look at her surroundings.

“I want h-home...” The words were in basic at this point, she was starting to panic. She just wanted to go home, back to the shiny tower that they lived in where it was safe and not so scary – even if just a few moments ago she found this place fascinating and different. Now, she was just a scared little sparkling but who could blame her? After all, Rota was so very carefully sheltered so no harm would come to her. This was the one time she was allowed to wander off on her own, and it had been a mistake when the mech had been reaching into his subspace for some shanix.

It was more than likely that he was blaming himself for letting go of her servos in order to do such a thing, but at least the sparkling had ran into the garbage mech who was worrying about her becoming ill. “b-b-Bumpy I want home.”

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Home. Creators. Yes, these little ones couldn't be left alone for long. They had to have their plates checked and their energon double-filtered, so that nothing would stick to them and hurt them. Was she starting to break down already, and that's why she was shaking and beeping so much? Primus, the tinylings were so...so...stripped down with what he knew of other 'bots! They had nothing to protect themselves with, no inner defences against sickness or rust, and their creators thought they were good to have around?

She was going to become hazard-marked. Primus, she was too little to be hazard-marked. The wasteworker couldn't touch her, for fear of infecting her with something; he pulled his subspace open instead. He fished around frantically in it, muttering, "It's okay, it's okay..." to the little femme while trying to keep cool. His field flickered with hints of panic, only to spike with relief as he whipped out a crinkling package.

"Aha!"

His blunt fingers carefully pulled down the sterile, plastic covering over a new, steel-wool cloth. Meant for removing or handling things with sticky coatings, it was a tightly-made barrier against dirt and a mech's hand. Very, very slowly, he held it out to Rota, pushing reassurance and very safe into his field.

"'S'steel-wool," said the mech. The cloth was just big enough to wrap around Rotary, keeping her safe and snug should she let him drape it around her. "Gon-na put ya in it, 's'okay wit' you, Ro-ta. Kinda itch-y, but gon-na keep all th'dirt away that makes ya sick-like. Gon-na take ya back to ya...yer cre-a-tors, 'kay? That okay wit' you, Ro-ta?"

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Oh if only the poor garbage mech realized that the delicate creature wasn't breaking down. She was merely upset about her little realization that she was away from the mecha she called her creators. There was also a little thought about how much trouble she was going to be in, which was something Rota hadn't actually experienced first hand.

Though the chances that the pair likely were more worried about the dangers she could be in, were far far higher. After all, she was only a sparkling and she was a precious little thing to them – then again most sparklings were precious little things no matter who commissioned them. They weren't the most useful or practical little creatures but her creators loved the fact she could choose which form of art she wanted to be a part of, and they loved that what they taught her would actually effected her personality unlike the full-frames they had commissioned in the past.

Still, Rota didn't know the inner thoughts of those around her or how 'precious' she was to the pair. No, she just knew she was lost and that she likely was going to be in trouble for wandering away despite it being a 'rule' for her to not to.

So she was naturally upset and little huffs of air left her little tiny vents as she tried to calm herself down while the wasteworkers pleas went onto deaf audios. Though as his giant hand reached down to her with the steel-wool blanket. Her optics were wide as she peered up at him, before her tiny helm nodded at being wrapped up. Of course, what mostly got her attention was being taken back to her creators.

Her teeth plates chattered for a moment, the frown was still on her face, but she nodded and another little huff of air left her as she calmed down. Once she was wrapped up, she cocooned herself a little more into the steel-wool to the point where only the tops of her helm was really visible, as well as those bright and lively optics. “Home now?” She asked. “Please?” Her manners were remembered now that she was calming down again, and even if she were to get into trouble for wandering off? At least the garbage mech could vouch for her that she remembered her manners.

(Soooo hope this works for you DDx i'm so pulling things outta my butt here XDD)

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"Oh yes, Ro-ta, home now," the big mech said. "Gonna take ya home all nice an' quick-like. No stayin' in this stin-ky place no longer, lit-tle Ro-ta."

She wouldn't get sick if he didn't touch her — he was sure of that now. The mech slowly reached his hands out, considering having Rota ride around on his shoulders. Hands would touch dirty handles and rusty pipes, but shoulders? Nah, they didn't have to touch a thing. Rota might not be able to hold on or balance, though, and the last thing he needed was for the little lilleth-but-not to...to break. She'd be so high up!

"Up?" the mech quietly asked. "You wanna sit in my hand while we go back home, Ro-ta? Gonna be nice an'...an'...an' 'not-hard', not like the ground. 'S'gonna be clean, too — clean an' nice-like."

No more being in the dirt. No more being where rust spores could fly up from her feet. She was small and had to be taken care of, and it wasn't like he could take her home and put her somewhere on a shelf. No, that was wrong, too, and they needed to find her 'creators' and make her safe again. Her field was hurting and scared, and it was tight in the mech's own, like a mechanimal curling up in pain. He didn't like it when they did that, so he definitely didn't like it when Rota felt like she was doing it too.

"You okay wit' that, Ro-ta?"

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“Home.” The little femme pipped up. “Home. Home. Home.” The little chant continued for a brief moment or two, almost like a chirp of a Lilleth chick. As far as going up though? Her helm tilted and then she looked down at her tiny little pedes. Her helm tilted further, and the frown deepened. “Ew.” The word came out as she realized she was standing in a dirty place.

Her creators, would have been mortified at the thought of rust spores getting onto her delicate plating. Then again, the pair would have been mortified at the thought of her in such a dirty place to begin with. After all, a sparkling had to be cared for and Rota was the first one in their cohort for a very long time – they had beat out other mecha for honors. The last thing they needed, was to be judged poorly for the fact the femme was a slippery creature who wanted to explore on her own.

They were likely notifying the enforcers of the missing sparkling, but for now? She was safe and sound thanks to the garbage mechs quick thinking of wrapping her up in a clean piece of steel wool.

“Please?” The femme finally responded as he asked if she was okay with his little plan. Her field was starting to settle, calm down, and it became less scared as she looked at his large servos. Slowly, she walked towards it, before she wobbled on her unsure pedes and she quickly grabbed onto his thumb in order to catch herself. A smile was lowly creeping across her face, and the sparkling hugged the digit. “Home time?” She asked as she peered up at him, the impromptu blanket slipping slightly from her helm.

“Please?”

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“Home time?” She asked as she peered up at him, the impromptu blanket slipping slightly from her helm.

“Please?”

"Ya bet, lil' bit-ty thing," said B-Dump, smiling down at the tiny creature. His hand curled up gentle-like, slowly pulled up so Rota wouldn't fall. B-Dump's field was still and friendly, the big mech making sure he didn't feel scared to the little one. She had just stopped crying, and she was all snuggly now in his hand — he couldn't help but wonder if she would fit in a lilleth nest, where the little lilleths would chirp and chirp like she would.

Then he saw the rust spores all over her feet. There wasn't a smile anymore, and he was staring at the dirt. All that dirt, and creeping rust, on such a breakable thing, that he had no disinfecting procedure for —

Slag. SO MUCH SLAG.

Biohazard protocols went off in his head. The mech's chest-space clunked open, and he reached in to grab a Rota-sized aerosol can of something. It was white, with big, black and blocky letters on it; rust spores didn't stand a chance. The mech shook the spray, plastic rattling around somewhere inside, and aimed for her red-brown soles. A spore-killing mist coated them in seconds, the cyberfungus already starting to turn grey.

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The sparkling smiled cheerfully up at the garbage mech, she felt safe as his hand curled up around her, and she was wrapped up with the warm steel wool blanket he made for her. Then his smile left his face and her bright little optics widened. It was scary, seeing him frown like that – and the blanket was wrapped tighter around her as she tried to disappear into it.

“What I do...?” The little voice piped up, afraid she was in trouble all of a sudden but, he was digging into his chest space, and he was pulling out a can. Rota started to shake a little, not realizing what the creeping red-brown spores were. She was simply too young to understand that rust spores was something that just wasn't good for a delicate creature such as herself.

Thankfully for her, the mech knew what to do and he knew that the spray would kill those spores without any troubles. It did make her pedes feel a little itchy though, and she wiggled them against each other for a moment or two, knocking the gray fungus off to reveal her green paint underneath. “Not mad...?” The femme asked him slowly, her optics peering up at him before looking down at her pedes one more time.

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“Not mad...?” The femme asked him slowly, her optics peering up at him before looking down at her pedes one more time.

"No no, lil' bit-ty thing," Buffalo Dump said, two massive fingers gently grasping at a curling flake of cyberfungus. Very, very slowly, all careful-like so he wouldn't touch her one foot, he pulled the piece of ick from her sole. "This is so you stay nice an' clean an' fresh. 'S'rust spores, and 's'not good for ya, so ya gotta be care-ful. I'm jus' get-tin' it off ya foot, 'kay?"

He took a moment to make sure such nasty stuff didn't stay on her foot. With enough tugs, chunks were falling left and right, and that was enough for him. He was so careful to make sure she was still comfy in his hand, fitting only in his palm.... She was so very, very tiny. He didn't pay attention to it much before, but now, he did, and it made him more nervous.

"Yer not...stuff-y or fee-lin' squish-y, are ya, lil' thing? Lil' Ro-ta? You all com-fy-like? You still good?"

Clank, clank, clank went the big mech's feet, hydraulics hissing all the way as he went. Building after building passed by him, falling down or rust-covered, far from the shiny places that little Rota would be used to. Every bend seemed to be filled with them, more and more passing by, some with dim lights that made shadows go away and come back. A cybercat perched on a garbage bin, dusty-black in colour and covered in dings, licking at one rusty paw.

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Rota gave the old mech a small smile once he told her that she wasn't in trouble. Though as he slowly took 9ff the ick frome her pedes? Her helm tilted at him ever so slightly in curiosity. What is he doing? The thought wandered into her head.

Then he explained it as he continued to pull the nasty little fungus away from her tiny little feet. Her smile widen a little more and her head bobbed 'yes'. “Nice and c lean!" The little thing chattered cheerfully before nodding again. “O-kay, D-uhm-py." She was trying to say his long winded name differently, and Dumpy sounded better to her young audios than Bumpy did.

As for feeling stuffy or squishy in the palm of his hand, Rota was already shaking her head 'no'. “Yep, yep!" She felt safe all snuggled up in the wool blanket and he was treating her like she was a lilleth made from glass. The femme wouldn't break as easily but, at least Buffalo Dump was being mindful of the sparkling's fragility. All was well for the time being, especially since the young femme knew she was going to be taken home.

The soft clank, clank, clank of his pedes caught her attention. That smile was bright as ever as she listened before her own little hand reached out and tapped against his. A soft ting, ting, ting ranged out with each little rhythmic tap and she continued on until her optics fell onto the buildings they were walking near. Her head tilted in curiosity but, when her optics fell on the dinged and rusty cybercat? Oh how the sparkling perked up and she moved, wanting to get closer to the animal despite being so high in the air. “Kitty!” She shouted cheerfully.