Welcome to my first story! The description may change as I go, my plot bunnies have a way of mutating on me.
UPDATE - As I had mentioned, things have a way of mutating on me. Masters and Servants has now become Episode 1 of an ongoing Transformers Prime-based series I call "INVASION"; I guess you could consider it Transformers Prime Season 4!
Airachnid at long last completed her startled cry.
The stasis pod had snapped open and she fell forward onto hands and knees, dazed and trying to get her bearings. The stasis effect had left her processors fuzzy. She blinked to try to force her optics to synch.
Shaking her head, she snapped her gaze upwards. She was in some kind of storage room, one she remembered from the Nemesis -
- And she was surrounded.
The possibility of escape and how she might accomplish it immediately ran through her brain module. She checked her systems - she was wounded and damaged, but still functional. She made out the forms of dozens of Eradicons surrounding her, blocking the exit, guns trained on her. She could see the brilliant crimson of Knock Out, and the winged form of Starscream.
In front of all of them stood the unforgettable face of the leader of the Decepticons himself.
"Decided to finish the job?" Airachnid smirked, staring up at Megatron, her remaining limbs curled in against her body protectively. "Not that I'd blame you, but one good betrayal deserved another."
"Hold your tongue in the presence of Lord Megatron!" Starscream threatened, servos clenched into an angry fist, his wings held high and stiff above his shoulders in outrage. "You have no right to speak about betrayal!"
"True, I'm in the presence of an expert in that matter," Airachnid smoothly insulted.
Starscream opened his mouth to continue the vituperation, but a single silver hand held in his direction stayed his mouth. He made himself content with shooting Airachnid venomous glances, his optics glittering with unspoken threats.
The heavy footfalls of Megatron silenced the room as he strode towards the spider curled on the floor before him. "That will be quite enough," he calmly intoned, his presence oppressively overfilling the enclosed storage locker in which Airachnid's stasis pod had been stowed.
He turned the full weight of his stare on the femme, unsubtly reminding her of her place through his eyes alone; Megatron knew full well that the spider was dangerous when pressed, but he encroached into her personal space if only to gauge her reactions. Pinning her by by proximity, he focused all his senses on her, watching her face, her body language, listening to the faint hum of her engines. If she so much as tensed a limb, or geared up in any emotional reaction, he would see it. He would hear it.
He would react.
"I have awakened you for one purpose, Airachnid. I find myself in need of your unique set of skills. I will be willing to overlook your prior indiscretions if you cooperate, and do not ever give me reason to think you will attempt to usurp my authority. My capacity for forgiveness still exists, but it has been stretched thin."
Megatron glanced sidelong at Starscream, who cowered, wings lowering.
The slow, steady drip of energon pierced the proceeding silence. Airachnid's severed limb was still oozing.
Knock Out eyed it with a satisfied smile that reeked of schadenfreude.
Megatron could feel the shifting resentment, brooding vendettas and bristling murderous intentions cycling around him. His position as foremost among the Decepticons had been secured not by just raw power - though that might have been enough - but by his ability to direct his own subordinates against one other, diffusing their ambition and cunning into interpersonal conflict and intrigue. It kept them on edge, hyper-vigilant, mistrustful, cunning. It kept them sharp.
"And what makes you think that I'll be content to stay under your boot, Megatron?" Airachnid asked boldly. "I can sense the presence of the Insecticons on this ship. Why don't I just have them eat you alive and be done with it?"
"Because that option is no longer available to you," a sonorous, emotionless voice commented from behind Megatron, as Shockwave stepped forward.
Insecticon presents:
Masters and Servants
A Transformers Prime: Invasion Story
Airachnid immediately cringed.
"I'm afraid that if you're looking to recover your army, you will be sorely disappointed. I have taken precautions to strip you of any possible means of rebellion or escape," Megatron calmly stated. "You continue to exist at my whim, Airachnid. If you value your miserable little life, you would do well to submit and agree to my terms." His eyes narrowed and he grinned at her cowering before his Lieutenant. "I will allow you an opportunity to regain your dignity and position, in time, if you provide me with the results I desire."
"Lord Megatron, not to interrupt, but Airachnid has a substantial injury. If she's not treated she'll bleed out," Knock Out interjected. He smiled sadistically and added, "Not that I'd particularly mind."
"I am aware of that!" Megatron irritably snapped at the Aston Martin, who shut his mouth and stepped back, eyes wide. Megatron whirled on Knock Out and shoved his face down in front of the now cowering doctor. "I am also aware that you'd like very much to get her onto your operating table and tell me she "perished from her wounds"! I realize she is responsible for killing your oafish partner, but if he could not keep his head and obey the orders of a superior officer, then he deserved to die!"
Megatron raised himself back up, standing threateningly close to Knock Out. "Decepticons will not offline each other without my direct orders to do so," he hissed. "Do not make me educate you as I did Dreadwing, and do not ever believe that your talents as a surgeon are such that you are irreplaceable."
"Shockwave will be in charge of looking after Airachnid's injuries. He has more than proven himself a capable surgeon. From now on, Knock Out, you are to consider yourself his assistant."
"Y-yes Lord Megatron," Knock Out stammered. He eyed the monoptic purple mountain of a mech not too far from him across the room. His frame rattled slightly, a cold chill, as that enormous, unblinking crimson optic stared back at him.
The leader of the Decepticons approached Airachnid one more time, swiftly reaching down and enclosing his claws around her throat, lifting her high into the air. The whine of stressed metal from the pressure on her neck was audible.
"What do you want with me?!" Airachnid choked, clawing uselessly at Megatron's grip.
"Do you or do you not yield to my authority?" Megatron firmly demanded, his fusion cannon charging up.
The femme coughed, venting for fresh air, and considered her options - to die here, in defiant dignity - or to accept the yoke of oppression as she had long ago, and bide her time until she could take proper revenge.
She couldn't give up too quickly. She couldn't afford to tip her hand.
"I ... " She coughed and wheezed, still struggling, before slacking her grip on Megatron's hand, extra limbs going lip. "... I yield."
A flawless performance.
Megatron unceremoniously dropped Airachnid to the floor, where she landed with a loud clang of metal against metal. She raised herself up on her side as Shockwave drew closer.
"Good," Megatron smiled with thinly veiled menace as he appraised the fallen spider. His fusion cannon still remained at the ready. He would take no chances. "Soundwave will bring you up to speed on what you have missed since your little detainment in the stasis pod. Suffice it to say that your experience as a Hive Hunter before the Great War will be of use to us."
This drew a curious glance from Airachnid, even as Shockwave knelt beside her to examine her injuries.
"Since the loss of Hardshell the Insecticons aboard this shell have been less efficient as warriors, serviceable to us only as laborers or brute force. Without the natural control exerted by a Hive Master, they will never rise to their full potential. Your control over them improved their capacities, especially at close range," Megatron explained, slowly pacing across the floor, eyes on Airachnid as he moved. "But even you cannot fully occupy the position left void by Hardshell. You could only control the swarm because you could mentally dominate its Master."
"I can't say I'm entirely surprised Hardshell is dead," Airachnid replied, glaring at Shockwave and jerking her injured limb away from him. The animosity she bore the scientist privately amused Megatron. "He wasn't exactly the brightest of the lot."
"But he was a Hive Master. The Insecticons among us are suffering from a slow death of attrition - without guidance they are falling uselessly to the Autobots, and their numbers are not being replenished. There is, however, a replacement for Hardshell. Someone who is far more intelligent - more ruthless. More cunning. More dangerous. That is where you come in, because I believe you will be best equipped to handle him. After all," Megatron smirked, knowing full well the reaction this would create in the femme before him, "You know him best."
"No," Airachnid hissed, eyes narrowing. "He's still alive?!"
Shockwave took the opportunity to reach out and firmly grasp Airachnid by the arm. He had been ordered to repair her, and he would.
It was petty, but Megatron savored the reaction of loathing he saw in the spider's eyes. He had found just the right counterbalance to occupy the femme's attention span, distracting her away from the plans for revenge and escape she was no doubt already spinning. He had timed the delivery of this little piece of information to coincide with Shockwave's examination - she would be too disturbed by the news to suddenly lash out at his Lieutenant.
"Very much so, and when Shockwave has finished your repairs, we will require your assistance to tame him," Megatron said, as Shockwave injected Airachnid with a compound that dropped her into unconsciousness.