Dead End (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dinnerdate) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2013-04-29 09:34 pm
dinnerdate) wrote in re_alignment_logs2013-04-29 09:34 pm
Entry tags:
not the usual monster under the bed
WHO: Deads and Skids
WHERE: Skids' room. Under the bed. In the dark.
WHEN Eveningish.
WHAT: Dead End requires advice and Skids is one of the few friends he has left to talk to.
WARNINGS: Neon monsters under beds.
There were a lot of things on Dead End's mind, all pretty much centered around a certain orange therapist that recently came back from the dead. Most of this thinking resulted in brooding for hours - even days - but some were met with nothing more than a feeling of uncertainty. Of what he should do, or even could do. He'd been completely useless when it came to stopping Rung from dying, he wasn't that confident that he could be there for Rung if he got into any unwanted situations again. After all, previous events did show that he was terrible at protecting the one he cared so much about.
But the one who had murdered Rung had been caught, and chances were that no matter what the police force, or even the law committee did, it wouldn't phase the mech responsible. He could potentially come after the therapist again and that was something that Dead End did not want. So he was stuck thinking, trying to find some kind of solution that his failure of a self could pull off.
What he needed was someone to talk to, maybe sort things out and clear his processor a little. Sure there was Rung, but why worry him with these things? And if not him, well it only left two others. Sissel was gone, Whirl too, there was Knock Out... But he'd probably get yelled at for bringing this stuff up. So really, there was just Skids. The mech who was his friend, yet at the same time he wasn't sure if they really were or not. Skids had been upset with him, threatened him, when he'd found out about his diet, but later had actually understood. He was the one that first told him to go after Rung, and had always given pretty good advice. But then he had mentioned that he was on the law committee just recently. Could he even trust him to have this kind of conversation?
...Not that he had any other options.
It had taken him at the very least a good hour to get into Skids' room, eventually just harassing an Acolyte into doing it for him. No Skids actually inside, but he could be patient, crawling underneath the berth to wait for the other's return. He'd just power down for a little until Skids came back and then they could talk.
WHERE: Skids' room. Under the bed. In the dark.
WHEN Eveningish.
WHAT: Dead End requires advice and Skids is one of the few friends he has left to talk to.
WARNINGS: Neon monsters under beds.
There were a lot of things on Dead End's mind, all pretty much centered around a certain orange therapist that recently came back from the dead. Most of this thinking resulted in brooding for hours - even days - but some were met with nothing more than a feeling of uncertainty. Of what he should do, or even could do. He'd been completely useless when it came to stopping Rung from dying, he wasn't that confident that he could be there for Rung if he got into any unwanted situations again. After all, previous events did show that he was terrible at protecting the one he cared so much about.
But the one who had murdered Rung had been caught, and chances were that no matter what the police force, or even the law committee did, it wouldn't phase the mech responsible. He could potentially come after the therapist again and that was something that Dead End did not want. So he was stuck thinking, trying to find some kind of solution that his failure of a self could pull off.
What he needed was someone to talk to, maybe sort things out and clear his processor a little. Sure there was Rung, but why worry him with these things? And if not him, well it only left two others. Sissel was gone, Whirl too, there was Knock Out... But he'd probably get yelled at for bringing this stuff up. So really, there was just Skids. The mech who was his friend, yet at the same time he wasn't sure if they really were or not. Skids had been upset with him, threatened him, when he'd found out about his diet, but later had actually understood. He was the one that first told him to go after Rung, and had always given pretty good advice. But then he had mentioned that he was on the law committee just recently. Could he even trust him to have this kind of conversation?
...Not that he had any other options.
It had taken him at the very least a good hour to get into Skids' room, eventually just harassing an Acolyte into doing it for him. No Skids actually inside, but he could be patient, crawling underneath the berth to wait for the other's return. He'd just power down for a little until Skids came back and then they could talk.
no subject
On the Lost Light it had been simple to disguise that with Swerve's bar offering a distraction, and there were plenty of corners to hide in when he was having a hard night.
Here, it wasn't the same. It hadn't been difficult to keep his affliction from being noticed, but it had been difficult to find something to do in the middle of the night when his processor ran in loops and he couldn't stop thinking about Shockwave, the Lambda, the Law Committee, or the new roads he was planning with the most unorthodox of friends.
It meant he came in late. He came in late, humming the tune that was still stuck in his head, his vocalizer buzzing pleasantly against the flexible metal of his throat cables. He didn't notice the pair of glowing optics under his bed.
He simply tossed himself onto the berth with a clatter, his intakes heaving a heavy sigh, and both hands settling behind his head. It had been a long day, his tires were worn, his struts were strained, and he thought maybe, just maybe, he'd done enough to make him exhausted.
no subject
Despite his colouring he was pretty good at hiding and going unnoticed, crouched or crawling where bots normally don't look. On the other this was likely to be awkward, but at least Skids wouldn't shoot at him like Cliffjumper did when he broke into his room. He probably wasn't going to eat Skids though, so big difference there.
Or at least maybe Skids wouldn't shoot at him.
"Rough day?" his voice slithered out from under the bed, the Decepticon carefully peeking out from under it.
no subject
Wait.
There was a voice coming from underneath his bed, and it sure as hell wasn't his imagination this time.
While he was quick enough to recognize the voice as 'friend' instead of 'foe,' he wasn't about to take any chances. His hand shot out and under the berth, looking for something to grab hold on and pulling.
"Just in case you aren't Dead End, you will be at least half of him, soon."
Whether it was the dead half or the end half, that wasn't so much of a concern.
no subject
Where what was? He wasn't exactly sure what Skids was talking about, but there was hardly time to ask as he felt something on one of his wings. Grabbing a tugging, not the most pleasant of greetings, but well... He had broken in, sort of.
Maybe Skids was going to shoot him.
There was some slight squirming followed by a disgruntled noise as he was pulled out from underneath the berth.
"That's sensitive!"
no subject
"Oh. Right."
With a shift in weight, he suddenly was peering down underneath the bed.
"Dead End. I know you're not here to eat my power core, and you're probably not under there mixing me a triple-ionic tonic, so this leaves only one question."
"Why are you under my bed?"
no subject
"Skids..." he attempts a smile when the Autobot peaks at where he'd been hiding.
"I was just... Well. I, uh... Thought I should visit?" And dump all his woes on the other. Maybe. Someone to talk to.
no subject
Upside-down, his head shakes.
"That's not what I meant."
His hands move back underneath him, and hoist him off the berth in what almost seems like a practiced motion.
"I want to know why you're under my bed. I've got a perfectly nice vent right over there. One where you've at least got grating to protect you if I got trigger happy."
He holds up his hand as if a gun is in it, before proceeding to sheath it as if it actually had been there. He can't imagine shooting at Dead End per-se, but stranger things had come out of the darkness at him before.
A little stranger.
Not by much.
no subject
What had Skids meant? He really couldn't think of him having meant anything but that, really there wasn't much else that he could have meant... Right?
Thankfully he didn't need to wait long as Skids was quickly explaining himself.
Vents.
"The... vent? I didn't..."
He didn't think of it, vents weren't normally a thing he ever used. He looks over at it for a moment before looking back towards Skids.
"I don't normally... well I don't usually use...those."
Not that Skids hadn't had a point.
no subject
Granted, he'd been the one in them first, so there was that. And the floating thing probably made it a little easier, too.
"Plus, you can get from room to room without using the hallways. Here, I'll show you."
With a kick his berth moved a few feet over, uncovering part of Dead End and positioning itself underneath the vent. "We can talk while we climb." He held a hand out, offering to help his friend up off the floor.
no subject
Those are what called out to him when he'd first been affected, and it hadn't changed at all since. There had been little reason for it to.
His wings shoot up as the berth is moved and a good portion of him is uncovered and put out in the open. A little warning would have been nice, vents cycling down to return to something a bit more normal as he hesitantly takes Skids' hand.
"Room to room...?" Not necessarily the best thing to tell a Cybertronian that feeds off of others, but he's certainly not going to be the one to complain about that. Looks like this was going to be an educational visit.
no subject
He hefted Dead End up to his feet, looking him over as if seeing him for the first time. "And you forgave me when I was, so forget I said anything. You do know that sneaking into someone's room is probably going to become illegal though, right?"
When Dead End passed whatever appearance check Skids was giving, he let go of the other's hand, jumping up onto the berth beneath the vent. The one in his room was already loose--and for good reason. He'd already mapped out a good part of the interior to Nexus's stronghold, and knew three escape routes should the time come to use them.
"Which is why air ducts are perfect. You can observe without actually breaching the perimeter of a room. What was it you wanted to talk about, anyhow?"
Grabbing hold of the grating, he twisted it to the left a fraction, and then pulled it down.
no subject
"I didn't sneak in," he mumbles, turning to watch the other open up the vent. "I asked nicely and was let in... you just weren't home yet."
It wasn't entirely a lie, he had asked an Acolyte and he had been let in, however he has also harassed said Acolyte and lied about why he needed to be in the room in the first place. But if Skids was showing him how to go from room to room without preforming any illegal actions then he should probably listen. If he tried the Acolyte trick for anyone else's room he'd likely have been shot. Probably.
"I- well... I just thought, since we're friends, that maybe... Do you think Rung could die again? I mean the bot that killed him is locked up now... But how long will that last?"