Rust Spot

ashes to ashes rust to rust

"HE'S NOT LICENSED!" Fulcrum hollered as his struggling increased. He began kicking his skinny legs and clawing at Krok's sturdy forearms. Why the hell did everyone have to be bigger than him?

"ok wrong thing to bring up, but it's ok! he does repair work on the rest of the crew all the time, and we are all fine!" Krok put more weight behind his hold.

"FINE! FINE! THIS SHIP AND CREW IS FALLING APART! HALF OF CRANKCASE'S FRAGGING BRAIN IS EXPOSED! THE ENGINES ARE HELD TOGETHER WITH DUCT TAPE! MISFIRE LIKES DRINKING RECYCLED FUEL! NONE OF THAT IS FINE!" Fulcrum shrieked.

Spinster hummed as he looked at the different sized clamps. He looked to fulcrum, who was in full hysterics wrestling with Krok, and then back down to his tools. Idly he held up one next to his pinky. He shook his head. no, not that one. He thought to himself. bad energy. He narrowed it down to two options. eni meni mini mo, catch a cassette by his toe,

"Spinster, would you do something?" Krok hollered.

Spinster just rolled his red optics. left one it was then.

"flip him." he instructed.

"no NO! What are you doing with that! GET AWAY FROM MEEEEE!"Fulcrum protested as he was mech handled around, his helm smooshed into the surface of the table, leaving him completely pinned and exposed. He felt a cold tingle on the back of his neck and then his whole body went limp and kind of numb. The shock of it rendered him silent.

"protoform." Spinster mumbled as he began to organize the rest of his tools.

"what was that?" fulcrum mumbled as he was rolled onto his back again by Krok. everything was happening in slow motion, very far away.

"clamped off your main nerve circuit. cheaper than drugs." Spinster explained as he stuck the little light to his chevron and clicked it on.

"Don't touch meee" Fulcrum slurred protest. Krok sighed and took his servo.

"Hey, listen to me. I know you don't really know us, and you are new to how things work around here. Pit, i'd be scared too. but you're one of us now. I made a promise that I'd never let anything bad happen to this crew, and this includes you. and spinster is very good at what he does! he disarmed your payload without blowing us all to the pit didn't he? and he fixed me up after the fight with the DJD no problem! you can trust him." he encouraged gently.

dam him he did have a point. but that was different! Fulcrum had no idea what was happening at the time, and they all thought he was dead!

"Don't want to. He's scary." he mumbled past thick dumb lips. Krok sighed. at least the screaming had stopped.

"I'll be right here, holding your servo. just pay attention to me." he instructed. "can you squeeze my servo?" he asked. it took longer than fulcrum would have liked, his body was several steps behind his brain, but he squeezed down on Krok's hand.

"good. just do that if you get scared. optics on me." he coached.

Spinster shook his helm lightly as he sprayed his hands in disinfectant.

"you're going soft boss. just because he's cute." he tsked as he hefted the weight of the pry bar. With a few expert pulls the shoddy plates were removed, exposing cable muscle and the glow of cybertronian organs.

"gross." Spinster announced. "definitely going to have to scrape all this off."

"How bad is it? i can't look.'' Fulcrum warbled, screwing his optics shut and squeezing krok's servo tight.

"its..... hm. its not the WORST I've ever seen.'' Krok said slowly.

There was a thin spotty layer of bright red rust on almost all of Fulcrum's inner components. The rust was causing the parts to grind uncomfortably with each other. and in some places had even stuck parts together. Spinster began to peruse his selection of tools. He used a strip of duct tape to secure the ratty hose of the broken shop vac to one wrist and flipped open the hard cover case. swiftly and expertly he began to assemble a small dremel tool. Usually he used this to trim Misfier's claws while he was blackout drunk, but the small grinder tip would work fine for this as well. nodding to himself he flicked on the switch.

the shrill scraping of the sander working its way across his internals filled fulcrum with anxiety. it didn't quite hurt. not in the same ripping tearing way that the traitors wheal did. and not in the dull all over raw ache the re format had hurt. This hurt closer to the way dental work hurts. an intense pressure that was so white hot it was ice cold. a grinding drilling grating sensation that made his plating crawl and his spine convulse. desperately he clutched at Krok's hand.

hours passed like that. spinster let himself get mesmerized by the internals in front of him. watching as the flaky rust was ground into fine powder and inhaled by the vacuum, leaving raw, polished, clean metal behind him. breaking his sarcastic promise, Krok had dragged the cheap flimsy chair over and sat in it. just as he was about to drift into a doze spinster would hit a particularly tricky spot and fulcrum would compress his servo and wine in discomfort.

"It's ok. you're doing so well! just a little more now." he would quietly reassure fulcrum until he quieted back down.

It was agony. but it did give him time to think. When was the last time anyone gave a shit about him? the last time anyone was concerned with how he was feeling, inside or out? These scavengers were not so bad really. they were gross. they were poor, and testy, and had more dysfunctional crazy between them than any crew had the right to. but for the first time in his life fulcrum was being cared for. He was a nobody on the tech team and he would have to be actively dying to even get on the wait list to see the medic. still there was a long, long list of places he would rather be but here. Finally the pressure scrambling fulcrum's insides lifted. He sobbed with relief.

"is it over?" he moaned. Krok patted the top of their conjoined hands.

"just about. only a few finishing touches." he promised. spinster was sifting through the rag pile looking for one that was clean. finding one he liked he smothered the cloth in a simple oil, and began to liberally coat the surfaces of the smaller mech's internals.

"i cleaned up the main blooms, but hes still going to need antioxidants when we get to the outpost. until then keeping him dry and well oiled should keep him from rusting over." spinster said as he began to shimmy dark side panels back into place. "okidoki crybaby! all done!" he announced. fulcrum was quiet and limp on the table. "crybaby?" spinster asked as he poked Fulcrum's large chin. "I think I killed him." Krok sighed. It was a heavy full frame sigh that made his shoulders sag and his helm droop.

"no Spinster i think he just passed out. help me get him to his berth." Krok ordered.