Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun filtered down through the trees as Dead End trudged behind his hunting party. His two companions, Wildrider and Dragstrip, were ahead, chatting idly as they moved through the dense forest. Dead End wasn’t paying attention to the conversation—he rarely did. His mind drifted, dark and uncharitable as usual. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy hunting, but the monotony of it was beginning to wear on him.

“I’m telling you, Dead End, you’re gonna rust out alone if you don’t start courting somemech,” Dragstrip teased, his tone infuriatingly smug.

Wildrider cackled, giving Dragstrip a shove. “Yeah, just pick someone already! You’re not getting any younger.”

Dead End sighed, lagging behind them. “Not interested,” he muttered, which was his standard response. He’d been rejected enough to know that love, or even a simple courtship, wasn’t worth the effort. Why bother when it always ended in disappointment?

Dragstrip grinned, slowing down to fall into step beside Dead End. “Come on, there’s gotta be someone. Just throw ‘em over your shoulder and prove you’re worthy! Easy.”

The simplicity of his statement made Dead End scowl. “It’s not that easy, Dragstrip.”

“Well, it’s traditional,” Wildrider added with a shrug. “You see a mech you like, you show ‘em how strong and capable you are by—"

"Kidnapping them," Dead End finished dryly, waving his hand dismissively. "Yeah, I know. Not really my style.”

Dragstrip gave a dramatic sigh. "Pfft, you’re impossible."

Wildrider, as usual, couldn’t leave well enough alone. "You could at least try to flirt with someone new. There's plenty of mechs out there, ya know. There was that one mech we saw the other day—"

Dead End decided then to tune out Wildrider.

__________________________________________

The forest eventually gave way to a small clearing, and as they approached, Wildrider stopped abruptly, lifting a hand. "Hey, look at that."

Dead End peered over his shoulder. In the distance, four citymechs were scattered around the clearing, seemingly absorbed in their work. They were crouched near strange plants, scanning and cataloging with their sophisticated tech, oblivious to the hunters.

"Looks like a bunch of researchers," Dragstrip commented with a shrug.

Wildrider’s grin returned, wicked and gleaming. "You know what we should do?" he said, his tone already promising trouble. "Mess with 'em."

Dead End sighed heavily. "No. We really shouldn’t." He knew where this was going, and as usual, he knew his words were falling on deaf audials.

Wildrider and Dragstrip were already exchanging mischievous looks, and before Dead End could voice any further objections, they charged straight toward the unsuspecting citymechs.

In his rush to stop them, Dead End stumbled over a root, crashing to the ground with a loud thud. The sound gave them away. All four citymechs turned, their optics widening in alarm.

Wildrider let out a war cry, sprinting ahead while Dragstrip cackled beside him. The citymechs scattered like startled cyberhawks, shouting in confusion as the two barbarians tore through their equipment, sending data pads and scanners flying.

Dead End groaned. “This is why no one takes us seriously.”

"Boltheads," Dead End muttered under his breath, pushing himself up. He was half-tempted to let them deal with whatever fallout was coming, but just as he started to dust himself off, he saw him .

Dead End stared at the red-and-black citymech, his optics wide. This mech was perfect. Not only was he strikingly beautiful, but he was calm, collected, and didn’t look the least bit afraid, unlike his companions. Most mechs ran at the sight of Wildrider and Dragstrip charging like wild creatures, but this one? He just stood there, arms crossed, like an unbothered storm on the horizon. Definitely courting material, Dead End decided.

Steeling his nerves, Dead End stepped forward, chest puffed out as he prepared to use the most “traditional” approach he knew. Kidnapping, after all, was the most respected way to begin courtship. You pick your mech, sweep them off their pedes, and then spent time proving yourself as a worthy suitor. It was simple. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

There was just one minor problem. 

Dead End had no idea how to speak citymech dialects. He’d heard them talk before, but it was all just fast, garbled nonsense to him. Still, he figured the whole "courting via kidnapping" approach wouldn’t need many words. He’d just act, and surely the citymech would get it .

With Wildrider and Dragstrip still causing a ruckus in the background, Dead End stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Uh... hello,” he started, giving the mech a slightly awkward wave. “I’m... gonna take you now, okay?”

Trying a gentle approach, should make things better, right?

“Hey! Wildrider! Dragstrip!” Dead End called to his companions, who were still causing the chaos unfolding around them. They looked over, disbelief plastered across their faces as they saw Dead End’s intention.

“You really gonna take him?” Wildrider snickered, shaking his helm. “You know that’s a huge gamble, right? He looks way too good for you.”

“Yeah, what’s the plan? Throw him a party?” Dragstrip chimed in, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Hope you’ve got a backup plan when he decides he doesn’t want you.”

Dead End shot them both a glare. “Oh, sure, because that’s what I need right now— your brilliant advice.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I’ll figure it out!”

With that, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the citymech’s waist and hoisting him off the ground. The citymech’s optics widened in surprise, but he didn’t immediately struggle.

This is fine. I’m strong. This is what I do, Dead End assured himself, though the nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that he was in way over his head.

Dead End’s attempt at communication didn’t seem to land, and the citymech glanced down at Dead End, straightened his posture, and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest in a measured stance. He made a series of low, somewhat monotone sounds that were lost to Dead End’s auditory receptors, and even though the tone seemed frustrated, the citymech’s posture was calm, calculating.

I’m kidnapping you. It’s a good thing! though he couldn’t shake the sensation that the citymech wasn’t as pleased as he would’ve hoped.

With a sharp shake of his helm, the citymech pressed his hands against Dead End’s chest, trying to push himself free, but Dead End tightened his grip. “No, no! You’re supposed to be impressed,” he insisted, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

The citymech pushed against Dead End’s chest again, clearly unamused. Great. He’s not impressed.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m showing you I’m strong!” Dead End insisted, trying to maintain some semblance of bravado. “You should be, uh, flattered or something.”

The citymech huffed, optics narrowing as he gestured back toward their previous location. It was clear he was signaling his displeasure, and Dead End felt his confidence waning.

“Okay, okay, I get it! Maybe this isn’t the most conventional way to impress you,” Dead End muttered, but he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “But you’ll see—I’ll prove I can take care of you! Just... don’t freak out on me, alright?”

As they made their way back, Wildrider and Dragstrip trailed behind, still chuckling and exchanging glances. “This is going to be a disaster,” Dragstrip called out, shaking his helm in amusement.

Dead End sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He turned his attention back to the citymech, desperately trying to find a way to make this work. “Look, I’ll gather food for you! Or, um, whatever you need. I promise!”

The citymech blinked, then gestured toward the trees with an air of irritation, optics narrowing as if to say, You’re kidding me.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll figure it out! Just give me a moment.” Dead End’s heart raced as he tried to keep his thoughts straight.

__________________________________________

When they finally reached the camp, Dead End carefully set the citymech down, stepping back to give him space. “See? No problem!” he said, his voice wavering slightly as he puffed out his chest. “Now I just need to, uh, show you I can take care of you. Easy peasy, right?”

The citymech remained still, watching him with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, though his posture was decidedly unimpressed. Dead End fidgeted under his gaze, unsure of what to do next. This isn’t going how I planned, he thought, casting a sideways glance at his companions, who were snickering in the background.

“Alright! Time to impress!” Dead End declared, trying to sound confident. He turned to the forest, the knot of anxiety tightening in his core. “Just... wait here. I’ll be right back with something good.”

As he headed into the woods, Dead End could still feel the citymech’s gaze on him, weighing his every move. The pressure to succeed was palpable, and he felt like he was stepping into uncharted territory. What if I screw this up?

“Dead End, you’re seriously doing this?” Wildrider’s voice echoed, the disbelief heavy in his tone. “You’re not gonna just run away, are you?”

“Me? Run away?” Dead End scoffed, though the nervous twitch in his helm betrayed him. “No way! I’ll show him. I’ll... find something he likes. Maybe a cyberdeer or... uh, whatever.”

The forest loomed ahead, and Dead End took a deep breath, pushing past the self-doubt. I can do this. I’ll find something worthy to impress him, he reassured himself as he ventured deeper.

__________________________________________

The forest was still, the towering trees casting long shadows in the fading light of day. Dead End moved carefully, his steps almost silent on the soft, moss-covered ground. His optics scanned the surrounding area, alert for any movement, any sign of prey. He didn’t often hunt alone, much less hunt anything of this size, but this wasn’t just any hunt—he was trying to impress his courtmate. He needed something grand, something that would prove his worth as a provider.

After what felt like an eternity of navigating the twisting branches and uneven terrain, Dead End stumbled into a clearing bathed in sunlight. The light illuminated a variety of flora, but more importantly, in the distance, he spotted it.

An Enerelk had caught his attention, grazing near the edge of the forest. A large beast, with gleaming metal antlers and thick armor plating over its shoulders, it was a majestic creature—and more importantly, a challenge. If he could bring down an Enerelk, that had to mean something, right? It had to show the citymech that he was strong, capable, and worthy.

Dead End’s optics widened as he approached cautiously, heart racing with excitement. If I can catch this, there’s no way my citymech won’t be impressed! He crouched low, attempting to channel the stealth he’d seen in the more skilled hunters of his tribe.

“Okay, just breathe,” he whispered to himself, trying to quiet the fluttering in his spark. 

Dead End crouched low behind a cluster of rocks, watching the creature from a distance. The Enerelk was big, much bigger than he’d anticipated. He could hear it snorting softly, its breath rising in faint clouds in the cool evening air. Its massive antlers shifted as it pawed at the ground, searching for patches of energon-rich vegetation.

Dead End gripped his weapon, a spear-like tool used for close combat. He wasn’t particularly fond of fighting, but this had to be done. He sighed, doubt creeping into his thoughts. This is a bad idea. What if it charges? What if it kills me? The thoughts swirled in his mind, but he pushed them down. 

He edged closer, moving slowly, carefully. His optics stayed trained on the Enerelk, watching its every move, waiting for the right moment. The wind was in his favor, blowing away from the creature, keeping his scent hidden. Dead End was tense, his servos tightening around the spear. Okay, just a little closer…

Suddenly, the Enerelk’s head snapped up, its ears twitching. Dead End froze. Frag. The beast sniffed the air, its red optics scanning the surroundings. He was still hidden, but it was on alert now. He cursed under his breath. Of course it knows something’s up. Why wouldn’t it?

The Enerelk’s stance shifted, its large frame turning as if preparing to bolt. Now or never.

With a sudden burst of speed, Dead End lunged forward, his spear aimed at the creature’s side. The Enerelk let out a bellow and reared up, its massive antlers slicing through the air as it tried to fend off the attack. Dead End narrowly dodged the swipe, stumbling as the beast charged away. He cursed again, his energon pumping as he chased after it.

The Enerelk was fast, agile for its size, but Dead End was determined. He could hear his own harsh breathing as he weaved through the trees, dodging branches and roots. The Enerelk was trying to lose him in the dense foliage, but Dead End wasn’t about to give up now.

After what felt like an eternity of chasing, the Enerelk made a mistake. It hesitated at a small clearing, unsure of which direction to go, and Dead End seized the opportunity. With a quick throw, he launched his spear. It struck true, embedding itself in the beast’s side with a loud metallic thunk. The Enerelk let out a pained bellow, stumbling forward before crashing to the ground, its large frame shaking the earth as it fell.

Dead End stood there, panting, watching the creature struggle for a moment before it went still. His entire frame ached from the chase, and his mind raced with the reality of what he’d just done. He’d actually brought it down. He’d caught an Enerelk, alone .

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered to himself, half in disbelief. His legs felt weak as the adrenaline began to wear off. He walked slowly toward the creature, eyeing it cautiously, just in case it had one last burst of energy in it. But no—it was down for good.

Dead End looked at the massive creature and sighed, rubbing the back of his helm. Now what? This was all for his courtmate, and the citymech better appreciate it, he thought with a slight frown. He wasn’t entirely sure how to transport something this big back to camp on his own, but he’d figure it out. He had to.

As he worked to prepare the Enerelk for the journey back, the doubts started to creep in again. What if this isn’t enough? What if he’s not impressed? Dead End shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. No. This is impressive. Anyone would be impressed. He glanced back at the fallen Enerelk and gave a small, reluctant smile. 

With the beast finally strapped and ready to be dragged back to camp, Dead End began the long trek back, the massive Enerelk’s weight pulling at his arms. The whole way, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this still might not be enough, that the citymech might still look at him with those cold, unimpressed optics. But at least now, he had something to show for his efforts.

__________________________________________

Back at camp, Dead End approached the citymech, dragging the Enerelk behind him. He felt like a champion, chest puffed out with pride. “Look! I got this for you!” he announced, struggling slightly under the weight of his impressive catch. “See? I’m not all bad!”

The citymech’s optics widened, taking in the sight of the large creature. But as Dead End presented it, the citymech wrinkled his nose in clear distaste, stepping back slightly. “Uh, I—uh,” Dead End stammered, the confident façade crumbling as he read the citymech’s reaction.

The Enerelk was indeed a magnificent specimen, but citymech's expression shifted from surprise to discomfort. He gestured emphatically, clearly expressing his displeasure with the dead creature laid before him.

What? You don’t like it? A wave of disappointment washed over Dead End. What’s wrong with it?

“It’s fresh! Really! Just look at it!” he blurted out, desperation creeping into his voice. How could anyone not want a catch like this?

the citymech shook his helm vigorously, waving his hands in a way that conveyed clear disapproval. Dead End's spark sank as he realized that perhaps this gift had missed the mark entirely. Did I mess up already?

“Hey, it’s a good catch! Look how big it is!” Dead End protested, trying to salvage his pride. “I mean, I hunted it myself! That has to count for something, right?” But as he watched the citymech’s discomfort, doubt began to creep in. Maybe he just doesn’t like Enerelk?

“Right. I’ll find something better next time!” Dead End declared, his tone more determined to hide the underlying defeat. He refused to accept that he had truly failed. I can do this.

He turned to Wildrider and Dragstrip, who had been watching the exchange with curiosity. “Hey, can you guys take this?” Dead End gestured to the Enerelk, desperate to distance himself from the embarrassing offering.

Wildrider’s optics lit up with surprise. “Whoa, Dead End! You actually caught an Enerelk?” he exclaimed. Dragstrip leaned in, his expression a mix of admiration and disbelief. “Who knew you were a top-tier hunter? Maybe you should go with the professionals during the winter season!”

Dead End felt his face heat up, embarrassment creeping in. “Shut up! It’s not a big deal!” he grumbled, but the teasing only made him feel more flustered.

With the Enerelk taken care of, Dead End turned back to the citymech, determination igniting within him. “Come on, I’ll make it up to you. I have a place where you can relax.”

He looked at Dead End as if trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t have the pieces for. Dead End, however, was too focused on impressing his new courtmate to notice. “It’ll be great! I promise I’ll make you comfortable,” he said, puffing out his chest a little.

As they made their way to Dead End’s humble abode, the citymech followed closely, glancing around as if assessing the unfamiliar surroundings. The small dome was modest but warm, lined with various trinkets Dead End had collected over time. “See? It’s cozy!” he declared, gesturing with pride. the citymech’s expression remained blank, his optics flicking around in confusion, clearly not understanding a word.

“Just, uh, sit down or something,” Dead End continued, trying to sound reassuring. “I’ll get you—uh, whatever you need.” He flailed a little, waving his arms to emphasize his point, but the citymech merely tilted his helm, brows furrowing in bewilderment.

Feeling the pressure to prove himself as a suitable companion, Dead End busied himself preparing something for the citymech but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something important. He glanced at the citymech, who was still trying to make sense of the situation, his optics darting between Dead End and the assortment of oddities around the room.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He doesn’t know my designation yet! He turned to the citymech, who seemed lost in thought.

“Uh, I should tell you my name, huh?” Dead End scratched his helm awkwardly, searching for the right words.

“It’s, um… Dead End!” he declared with a hint of pride, hoping it would clarify things.

The citymech blinked, his expression still unreadable. He tilted his helm again, as if trying to figure out what “Dead End” even meant. Dead End felt a rush of anxiety, hoping his name might bridge the gap between them.

“Uh, Dead End!” he repeated, his voice slightly louder this time, filled with nervous energy.

The citymech’s optics brightened a fraction, and he nodded, but the confusion still lingered in the air, heavy and palpable. Dead End’s heart raced as he tried to gauge the citymech’s reaction, feeling a mix of relief and frustration.

“See? We’re getting somewhere!” he exclaimed, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

As he continued to fumble about, preparing something for the citymech, he was determined to show him he could be a worthy companion, even if their communication felt like an endless game of charades. He silently promised himself that he would figure it out, no matter how long it took.

__________________________________________

The night sky was clear, a soft glow from the stars casting the tribe’s camp in a faint silver light. The fire crackled, embers drifting lazily into the air as Dead End sat stiffly around the circle, shoulders hunched as he stared into the flames. His Enerelk—his perfect catch, the one he'd intended for his courtmate—was being devoured by his comrades, the meat torn apart with loud, satisfied grunts. It was embarrassing. Even more so because everyone knew now. Well, everyone that mattered.

Wildrider and Drag Strip had been boasting about it all evening, and Dead End couldn’t stop them even if he tried. They weren't cruel about it, but they weren’t exactly quiet, either.

He cast a glance back at his shelter. Inside, the citymech—his captive, his courtmate —was finally asleep. Dead End had watched him carefully until his optics dimmed and the mech fell into recharge. The whole time, he was worried that the citymech would bolt, try to escape the moment he felt safe. Dead End wasn’t exactly known for his optimism, and he figured it was only a matter of time before the citymech made a break for it.

“Hey, Dead End,” a gruff voice broke through his thoughts. It was one of the Combaticons—Brawl—who was sitting across from him, gnawing on a piece of Enerelk. “So, uh, how’s it going with your fancy citymech?”

Dead End sighed, his optics dimming slightly as he stared at the fire. “Terribly,” he muttered. “He hates me. I can tell.”

Brawl chuckled, not unkindly, and leaned forward, his optics gleaming with curiosity. “Hates you? Come on, it can’t be that bad. What’s he done?”

Dead End threw up his hands, feeling the weight of his pessimism settle in his spark. “Everything I do just seems to irritate him! Every time I try to please him, he just stares at me like I’ve grown a second head, or makes these frustrated noises like I’m the problem .” He glanced around at the others before continuing, voice lower. “I thought the Enerelk would impress him, you know? Big catch, took down the beast by myself… and what do I get? A look that says ‘This is what you’re offering?’”

Wildrider, who had been listening in from the other side of the fire, cackled. “I told you, Dead End, citymechs don’t go for the ‘big, dead animal’ vibe.”

Before Dead End could respond, a Constructicon—Scrapper—joined the conversation. “Maybe,” he said, his voice full of mirth, “you’re going about it the wrong way. Ever think of trying a romantic approach?”

Dead End scoffed, his optics narrowing. “Yeah, sure. That’ll work. Let me just light some candles and write him a poem—oh wait, he doesn’t understand a single word I’m saying, remember?” He threw a sarcastic grin at Scrapper. “He’ll just make that same face, maybe grunt a bit more dramatically.”

Brawl shook his head, chuckling. “Maybe he’s playing hard to get?”

“Oh, sure,” Dead End said, sarcasm thick in his voice. “That’s what it is. He’s playing coy. Definitely not just completely unimpressed with everything I do.” He crossed his arms, the frustration leaking into his voice despite his efforts to keep it light. “I’m doomed. He probably thinks I’m a joke.”

The group shared a few more laughs at Dead End’s expense, but there was a strange camaraderie in it. Even if they were teasing him, it wasn’t malicious. Tough love, with the occasional bit of real advice hidden beneath the sarcasm.

As the fire began to die down, and the others drifted off to their tents or shelters, Dead End stayed behind, staring at the glowing embers. A long sigh escaped him. The night had done little to ease his worries about the citymech, but as he thought back to the unimpressed looks and frustrated sounds, he found himself feeling a small spark of determination. He wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

He stood up and grabbed a small bowl, filling it with pieces of Enerelk and some others. He figured, if the citymech was hungry when he woke up, at least he’d have something waiting for him.

Dead End glanced at the bowl, then back toward his shelter. He still didn’t know the citymech’s name, and communication was practically impossible, but maybe… maybe if he showed he was capable, the mech would start to soften. 

“Better than nothing,” he muttered to himself as he made his way back to his home.

Chapter Text

Dead End hesitated at the threshold of his shelter, watching his citymech examine his modest collection of oddities with a focused curiosity. The citymech’s tall frame loomed in the cramped space, his optics moving slowly, appraisingly, over each object on the shelves. He picked up a polished blue crystal, turning it over in his hand, studying the way it refracted the dim light.

Dead End felt his spark skip a beat as he stepped cautiously inside. He’d never had anyone else here, let alone someone like this —someone he’d practically worshiped from a distance. He cleared his throat, half expecting a reaction, before realizing he’d have to work harder than that for one.

“That one’s from the gorge,” he said, gesturing to the crystal. “Had to scale half a cliffside for it.” The words tumbled out without thought. “Guess it’s just a pretty rock to anyone else, but to me it’s… y’know, special.”

The citymech glanced over, his optics shifting to meet Dead End’s, but there was no flicker of comprehension in his gaze. He blinked slowly, tilting his head in polite acknowledgment. He didn’t understand, not a single word, but he hadn’t turned away either.

Dead End's face warmed in embarrassment. Right. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. They don’t share a language.

The citymech’s optics drifted to a small, intricately carved figurine on the table, its polished metal surface showing hints of old dents. He picked it up with surprising gentleness, turning it over to examine its details. Dead End, feeling braver now, chuckled a little, though he kept his voice quiet.

“Had to do some… creative borrowing to get that,” he admitted with a grin, even if he knew it was pointless to explain. He could almost pretend the citymech was listening, though, almost pretend he could see the humor in it.

The citymech didn’t react, but something in his posture softened as he examined the figurine a moment longer before setting it back on the shelf with a respectful care Dead End hadn’t expected. For some reason, that made Dead End’s spark flutter in a way he’d never felt before. He felt, in a strange way, seen—if not understood, then at least noticed.

Dead End fidgeted, reaching down to tug at the edge of the soft, woven bedding he’d piled in one corner, an attempt at a cozy nest. He motioned toward it with a hopeful smile, though he doubted the citymech would understand that either.

“This… uh, it’s for you,” he murmured, unsure if he was speaking to the citymech or to himself.

The citymech’s optics shifted from the blankets back to Dead End, his gaze patient but unreadable. And then, to Dead End’s surprise, he inclined his head, almost like a nod, before lowering himself carefully onto the bedding. It was clear he found it odd—a bit crude, maybe—but he settled down without protest.

Dead End felt a strange relief wash over him. He wanted to say something more, to let the citymech know that he’d try his hardest to do better, to figure out how to bridge the silence between them. But words seemed futile, so instead, he just sat across from him, keeping a respectful distance.

They sat together in the quiet, each in their own thoughts.

_________________________________________

Dead End fiddled with a loose seam on his arm plating, his optics darting to the citymech and then away again. He felt the pressure of silence settling between them, not oppressive exactly, but heavy with things unsaid and things that couldn’t be said.

He noticed the citymech’s optics had returned to the shelves, pausing on a small, round object—a sphere made from layered metal that shone with a faint, golden hue. Dead End perked up, an idea sparking in his mind.

“Oh, that? That’s not just for show,” he said, his voice gaining a little confidence. He reached out and plucked the sphere from its place. As he held it, it clicked faintly, mechanisms shifting within, and then he gave it a careful twist. With a soft hum, the sphere unfolded into a delicate, spindly mechanism, like a blooming flower made of interlocking gears and panels.

The citymech tilted his helm, optics focusing on the unfolding device. His interest was noticeable, even if he made no sound.

Dead End grinned, emboldened. “It’s a puzzle. Got it in one of those trade markets ages ago. Had to reassemble half the thing just to figure out how it worked.” He chuffed, his fingers moving deftly to twist another part of the sphere, which shifted the mechanism further, creating a new shape. “Want to try?”

He held it out, nerves tightening in his chassis. The citymech regarded him for a moment, then extended a servo. Dead End felt absurdly small as he placed the delicate mechanism onto the citymech’s palm.

The citymech’s fingers moved with a surprising delicacy. He turned the puzzle over, studying it from every angle, his movements slow and deliberate. He touched a panel tentatively, and when it shifted under his finger, he paused, as though savoring the small victory.

Dead End leaned forward, his spark humming with a strange excitement. “Yeah, that’s it! You’ve gotta move that piece first, then it’ll let you—”

The citymech glanced at him, a faint tilt of his helm betraying the same unreadable patience. Dead End stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. You’ve probably got it.”

The citymech continued his methodical exploration of the puzzle, his focus unbroken. Dead End watched, torn between awe and something deeper, something harder to name. For the first time, the citymech didn’t seem quite so untouchable, so distant. He was just… here, in Dead End’s space, with his servos on something Dead End had cared about enough to keep.

Minutes stretched into a quiet rhythm as the citymech worked, his frame hunched slightly over the delicate mechanism. Dead End felt his own tension begin to ebb, the silence between them no longer heavy but companionable.

When the citymech finally shifted the last piece into place, the mechanism gave a soft, melodic chime. The citymech’s optics brightened briefly, and he looked up, holding the now-complete puzzle in his servo. For a fleeting moment, he seemed almost… pleased.

Dead End couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. “You did it! See? I knew you’d figure it out.”

The citymech didn’t respond, not in words, but his optics lingered on Dead End a fraction longer than before. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the closest thing to understanding they’d shared yet.

Dead End grinned, leaning back against the wall.

_________________________________________

The citymech seemed far more fascinated by the intricacies of their homes—the rough-hewn structures cobbled together from salvaged parts—and the odd ways they went about their lives. It wasn’t that he ignored Dead End entirely; he had a certain quiet enjoyment of the little puzzles Dead End bartered from Swindle during the brief trading seasons. But beyond that, he showed little interest in anything Dead End tried to offer, leaving him more frustrated than he’d care to admit.

“What if I took him on a hunt with me?” Dead End suggested abruptly, his tone tinged with determination. “Show him how strong I am?”

Wildrider, perched on a scrap pile with a half-eaten Metarabbit in servo, paused mid-chew to consider. “Okay, well—” He took a moment to gnaw through the tough skin and energon lining before continuing, mouth still half-full. “Last time you tried to show off with a kill, that mech basically sneered.”

“Wildrider, finish chewing before you speak,” Dead End snapped, grimacing. “It’s disgusting.”

Wildrider, as expected, didn’t listen. Instead, he grinned and tossed his energon scrap aside, already turning to Dragstrip with that glint in his optics that meant trouble. Before Dead End could say anything further, the two were at it, shoving and wrestling in a flurry of laughter and mock insults.

“He didn’t sneer,” Dead End muttered, mostly to himself. “It was more like… disinterest.”

“Same difference,” Wildrider called back between bouts of laughter, pinning Dragstrip for all of two seconds before being flipped onto his back. “You brought him that Enerelk carcass, fresh and everything, and he barely even looked at it.”

“Because it wasn’t about the elk!” Dead End snapped, louder than he intended. Both Wildrider and Dragstrip froze mid-wrestle, staring at him like he’d just sprouted wings.

He scowled, crossing his arms defensively. “It was about what it meant. About me. What I’m capable of.”

Dragstrip raised an optic ridge, shoving Wildrider off with an exaggerated groan. “And you think he cares about that? The guy’s practically a genius. You could bring him ten elks, and he’d still be more interested in those little puzzle things you trade from Swindle.”

Dead End felt his vents hitch, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s because no one’s shown him what it means to survive out here. To really live.” He straightened, determination sparking in his optics. “If I take him out, show him what I can do—what we do—maybe he’ll… I don’t know. See me differently.”

“See you as what?” Wildrider asked, smirking as he pulled a chunk of energon from his ration. “A glorified elk wrangler? ‘Cause lemme tell ya, he doesn’t look like he needs anyone to help him survive.”

Dead End opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. It wasn’t just about survival. It was about… connection. Proving he was more than just some… Barbaric animal . But how could he explain that to them?

“He’s not like us,” Dead End said finally, voice quieter now. “He’s… different. He looks at things differently. Maybe he doesn’t care about the hunt itself, but if I can show him the why—if I can show him there’s strength in what we do…”

Dragstrip rolled his optics, leaning back and kicking one leg lazily over the other. “Or maybe he just likes shiny things and puzzles. Ever think of that? You’re overthinking it, D-E.”

Wildrider laughed, loud and sharp, slapping Dead End on the shoulder. “Yeah, stop trying to impress the guy and just toss him one of those brain-teaser things. Call it a day.”

Dead End batted his hand away, scowling. “You don’t understand. It’s not that simple.”

But as Wildrider and Dragstrip devolved back into their usual roughhousing, Dead End couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, they were right. Still, the idea of the hunt lingered in his processor, stubborn as ever.