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B-127 had messed up. He knew that much.
He had recently been assigned waste disposal duty after a small hiccup in the energon mines that may or may not have caused severe damage to the structural integrity of the entire level.
In his defense…actually, no, he had no defense.
It was stupid, he was stupid, hence his current situation.
Even after being assigned a job as simple as waste disposal, he had– somehow– managed to mess it up, resulting in an entire extra solar cycle of work for the fellow operatives on the level.
Now, B was being dragged to Primus knows where, with two guards pulling him by his arms.
He hadn’t quite caught their names, but he thought one of them had ‘dark’ in it. Darkstar? Darkwave?
Not that it mattered. The guards never stuck around much.
Eventually, he and his escorts made it to an elevator, in which B was promptly tossed in, with the two custodians following behind him.
The ‘dark’ guard pressed some buttons on the side paneling, and the door quickly shut.
The lift lurched, and began a descent.
Odd , B-127 thought. he assumed he was already on the lowest level, whatever it may be.
Despite his previous theory, the elevator seemed to continue lowering, with a thick silence laying over the trio, in spite of B’s attempts to break it.
The guards didn’t seem privy to conversation.
Soon enough, just as boredom began to rack B-127’s frame, the lift jerked again, and they came to a stop. The doors quickly shot open, and B was shoved through the opening.
The sight that met him…well, it was certainly a sight, although not in the impressive way.
B-127 stood just outside the elevator’s entrance, taking in the raggedy surroundings. The layout was rather rudimentary, with nothing but a conveyor belt taking up the main room, and a hatch at the end of it that was emanating an overbearing heat.
To the left of the belt was a smaller room, containing what was apparently supposed to be a berth, although B struggled to even call it that.
Suddenly the mech felt a shove from behind, and was falling to the floor. His plating collided with the hard ground, and a screeching sound echoed throughout the room.
“Welcome to your new home,” ‘dark’ guard teased, crossing his arms.
The other seemed to be a bit more about business. Puffing up his plating, he said “B-127, due to your insolence, you have been assigned waste-sorting duty. You will remain in this room, and spend your cycles sorting through the scrap that falls through this system,” the bot gestured to the conveyor belt.
That seemed to be all, as the two turned their backs on B-127’s form, and quickly exited the level, leaving B alone. Completely alone.
The bot simply sat there for a nanoklik, unable to properly process the quick departing of his only companions- if he could even call them that.
Eventually, though, he found it in him to stand, and moved his pedes underneath him.
He looked around, more in depth than before. A pipe, wide enough to fit an average mech, sat above the conveyor belt, a few carts littered the room, and trash seemed to be piled up all along the walls.
Okay, B thought, not the best, but he could work with it.
The thing that intrigued him the most, though, was the chute at the end of the belt.
A faint red glow came from the opening, and– as B stepped closer– the heat that filled the room became stronger.
As he neared the metal doors, they snapped open, and a fiery inferno licked at B’s frame. He instinctively jumped back, landing on his aft and scooting away from the flames.
Regaining his bearings, B’s dragged himself onto his pedes again, but kept his distance from the smelting pot.
He looked to the conveyor belt, watching as trash began to roll by and into the furnace.
Right, he remembered, trash-sorting duty.
What…exactly, was he supposed to be sorting?
Anything useful, he told himself. That had to be it.
Well, that’s that, B-127 thought, best be off to work.
Yet, he didn’t move. He couldn’t move, he just kept glancing around at all the trash, all the garbage.
As the heat slowly built up across his frame, becoming an unbearable yet nonexistent weight across his form, something finally clicked;
He had been abandoned.