Acree's engine sputtered and choked, and for the first time in her long life, she hated her tiny, ineffectual body. She took the corner as quickly as she could, her wheels spinning out and skidding as they struggled for grip on Cybertron's smooth streets.
The omnipresent drone of the Quintesson gunships cycled down a few decibels as she put a block of decimated buildings between herself and the particle cannons. Twenty forwards set on a single ship, and she had spotted three converging on her location before she bolted.
The Quintessons really wanted their products back.
She flipped into root mode and crouches behind a ruined wall, forcing her engine to idle. Thirty seconds until the space bridge opened. It would take her twenty seconds to cross the open area surrounding the bridge, ten to shoot out the controls so she couldn't be followed, and five to make it through the bridge itself. It took the Quintessons a minute to move their machinery through the bridge. The bridge stayed open for twenty seconds after the last shipment came out.
Arcee counted to forty-five, prayed to a god she didn't believe in anymore, and drove.
The gunships spotted her immediately and fired a few warning shots—it wouldn't do the break the things you had spent so long trying to recover. Her front wheel blistered from the heat, but she stayed the course. The gunships must have radioed ahead, because the Quintessons in charge of the cargo whirled to face her, forming an impromptu barricade with their shipment.
Arcee dropped to her side, skidding sparks as she slid under the shallow belly of the transport vessels. She transformed as she went, aiming her twin blasters at the control dock.
Her first two shots went wide, but the third hit the navigation panel dead on. It sparked and billowed smoke, sending the two Quintessons on either side of it diving for cover.
Five seconds left.
Arcee rolled back into alt mode and gunned it. Something in her engine blew, but she kept pushing top speed. Twenty meters, ten meters, five.
The laserfire caught her out of nowhere. One of the gunships, perhaps, or a Quintesson with a gun and good aim. She wavered, just for a second, as pain threatened to turn her off course. Arcee forced herself to keep steady. She was too far now. Pain was nothing compared to whatever freedom lay beyond the swirling light of the space bridge.
She made it. The light sucked her in, and for a moment she felt weightless as the broken navigation console struggled to find a receptive location to put her.
Arcee jetted out of the space bridge, transforming as she went, and landed face first into a pile of dull grey rocks. She scrambled to her feet, blasters primed and aiming before she could even see.
Her HUD was filled with error warnings and a scrolling damage report. The blast had hit her chassis in alt mode, which translated to somewhere mid torso in root mode. Most of the damage had been hidden away when she had transformed, but it still hurt.
Arcee fought down the urge to clutch her side and keen and instead forced herself to take in her surroundings. The landscape was desolate and comprised mostly of muddled grey. There were no buildings, but her view was obscured by jagged outcroppings and impact craters. Her Galactic positioning chip hadn't worked in months, so she couldn't accurately judge her location.
Arcee frowned. She didn't know where she was, but Cybertron looming off, just beyond the horizon, haloed by the nearest star.
"Hell."
"It is, isn't it?"
Rocks scuffled behind her, and she instantly spun, blasters aimed high.
Airachnid looked down at her, arms folded elegantly across her chest. She looked dull and ragged. Arcee probably looked similar.
"You!" Arcee howled, firing off a volley of shots. She ran as she fired, ignoring the blinding pain in her side. She dove behind the nearest outcropping.
"Me," Airachnid responded, her voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. "My, it's been awhile, hasn't it, dear? How's Cybertron?"
"Better," Arcee grunted, struggling to pin down Airachnid's voice, "'cause you weren't there."
"How biting. I can't imagine it's been too nice, considering the Quintessons."
"How do you—" rocks skittered to Arcee's side, and she emptied her clip into the darkness.
"Know about them?" Airachnid's voice sounded far off now. "You can't really think they didn't bother to look at Cybertron's moons."
"Oh? Then tell me why you haven't been packed and sent back to pick up the ruins of Quintessa?"
"No please? That isn't very polite, now is it?"
Arcee reached over the rock and fired a warning shot.
"Temper, temper, my dear. How are we ever going to get along if you keep shooting at me like that?" Airachnid's claws tapped over the rocks. "You see, I have certain 'bots on my side who are bigger, meaner, and nastier than anything the Quintessons are carrying. Shall I introduce you?"
Arcee tensed, and leapt out of the way as the ground under her collapsed. Scrap! She'd let Airachnid distract her. She scrambled up onto an outcropping, struggling to see through the dust. Her visual array could only filter so much of it out, and her field of vision was dangerously limited.
"You thought I was all on my lonesome, did you?" Airachnid's cruel voice echoed in the empty landscape. "Now, now, you should know: Insecticons hunt in packs!"
A second Insecticon lunged for Arcee, tackling her to the ground. Her side flared in pain, but she managed to get her feet under the Insecticon and push it off. She rolled to the side, dodging the first Insecticon's fist. Scrambling to her feet, she aimed a blaster at each of the Insecticons.
"Ooh, mistake," Airachnid hissed in her ear, and stabbed her delicate fingers into the base of Arcee's head. She pinched something, squeezed something else, and Arcee's legs went out from under her.
Forced reboot. The words flashed bright red in her HUD, and she didn't have time to contemplate it before she drifted into nothingness.
All things considered, she should have expected something as unorthodox as an alien invasion. Things were simply going too well.
Most 'bots (Arcee included, but not Smokescreen, because he was a superstitious brat) considered Quintessons a myth: a far off, historical thing that held no significance in day to day life. Although to be fair, she had considered the Forge of Solus Prime to be just as fictitious, right up until Optimus held it in his hands.
They arrived on a good day too. No acid rain, no rust storms, no unexpected pits opening up beneath their feet.
It was a good day, and then the Quintessons arrived.
Products. It put a foul taste in Arcee's mouth. They were there to retrieve their lost products.
Bulkhead and Bumblebee were gone. Arcee could confirm that. They were probably shipped off to Quintessa, or one of the colonies. Arcee suspected they were reprogrammed, and she hoped against hope they weren't. Smokescreen had fled south, last she had seen him, separated by a battalion of gunships. Kid was a survivor, as much as he irritated her. Knock Out… Knock Out had the uncanny ability to stay alive when literally everyone around him was dropping dead. He was fine. Probably griping about his paint job and waiting for someone to come pick him up when the fighting was over. Magnus and Wheeljack had been on earth when the first wave hit. The space bridge was down, but they'd be fine. Hopefully they'd keep Jack from pulling a Miko and trying to save them all. Hopefully they'd keep Miko from pulling a Miko and trying to save them all. Primus knew she must have cried her eyes out after hearing about Bulk. Arcee would have.
And that left her on her lonesome.
Arcee grunted as she came out of recharge. Her side twinged: not the blinding pain from before, but the dull ache of a slowly healing wound. Auto-repair seemed to be taking care of most of it, but evidence of a hack weld with a blowtorch peeked above her plating.
"Finally awake?"
Arcee didn't say anything, waiting until she could hear the soft idle of Airachnid's engine humming above her. She jackknifed, catching Airachnid with her feet.
"How rude!" Airachnid grunted, slapping her hand over a button built into the wall. Arcee snapped to the berth. Magnets. She hated magnets.
She took the opportunity to examine the room she was in. It was a small, barely outfitted repair bay, clean enough, if a little shabby from seldom use. The ceiling and walls seemed carved from the same grey rock that made up the surface of the planet. They were in a cave.
"Expecting heads on the walls?"
"I wouldn't put it past you."
"Why, that would ruin my interior decorating scheme. The theme of this room is 'depressing medical ward'. My throne room is the one decorated with skulls."
"You're sick."
"Well," Airachnid waved a hand, "I'm not the one magnetized to a recovery bay. That was some stunt you pulled. My Insecticons didn't even touch you and you're falling to pieces. That was the Quintessons, I imagine. Or you've finally succumbed to your shoddy construction."
"Get rusted."
"Such lovely conversation." Airachnid moved faster than Arcee could follow, wrenching her hand around Arcee's jaw and forcing her meet Airachnid's eyes. "But let's get to the point."
"The point where you kill me, murderer?" Arcee spat. She would have thrashed, but the magnets keeping her pinned to the bay were too strong.
"No." Airachnid's fingers tightened. "The point where we make a deal."
Arcee scoffed. "You're delusional."
"And you're dying. Not now, maybe not later, but you are dying. Slowly. The Quintessons will kill you. And then where will I be, with nothing to do?"
"Maybe you should get better hobbies?"
Airachnid placed a finger over Arcee's mouth. "Enough. I'm being the bigger 'bot. Like it or not, were the last two Cybertronians who can do anything about this."
"Knock Out is still alive."
"And?" Airachnid raised an eyebrow.
"I never took you to be patriotic."
"I'm not. I'm just not stupid. Some day, the Quintessons are going to get bored of chasing you around the sewers." Her fingers tightened on Arcee's chin. "And they'll come here. To my kingdom."
"What? A kingdom of bugs?"
Airachnid smirked cruelly, without opening her mouth. "A kingdom of monsters. Here, I rule."
"And where does that leave me?" Arcee grunted, renewing her efforts to struggle free. "The turbofox?"
"No, no, my dear enemy. You'd make a fine jester." Airachnid let go of her face and drifted away, distracted. She seemed more unhinged than usual. She seemed hungrier. "But I have a different proposition."
Arcee didn't answer. She tried cutting power to her left hand and twitching her arm. Her hand skittered off the bay. Yes! Slowly, Arcee powered up her hand, and used it to slowly drag her arm off the bay and out of the range of the magnets.
"What?" Arcee asked cautiously, trying to keep Airachnid ranting.
"Partners," she hissed, whirling around and slamming Arcee's hand down to the metal. Arcee gritted her teeth in pain. "And I won't kill myself."
"You'd kill me!" Arcee spat, wrenching her arm up. Airachnid was stronger than she looked, and kept Arcee's hand pinned to the bay.
"I would." Airachnid said softly. "I should. It would be so much easier. But, the enemy of my enemy…"
"What, are we friends now? Want to braid each other's hair?"
"I had something altogether different in mind."
Airachnid stared at her, and her mouth opened wide, and wider. Arcee barely had time to gasp before a prehensile siphon shot out of Airachnid's throat and clamped down over her neck. She thrashed—the magnets must have failed—and grabbed the siphon, trying to tear it off. Her fuel levels dropped before her eyes and her head rushed. Arcee stumbled off the bay and collapsed to her knees, scrabbling desperately at the siphon. Airachnid was looking down at her, through blurry vision. She jerked, suddenly, and the siphon retracted.
Arcee coughed, slumping to the ground and pressing cold fingers over the wound on her neck.
"What the hell are you?" Arcee wheezed.
"A ruler of monsters." She eyed Arcee. "You aren't changing."
"What?"
"That's good. One of us needs to keep her wits."
Acree used the bay to push herself to her feet. She was low on energon, but it wasn't critical. She had maybe two shots left before she'd be in danger of powering down.
"If you shoot me," Airachnid said, without looking at Arcee, "I'll kill you."
"Some friend you are," Arcee primed her blaster.
"Only until they die."
"Hah," Arcee said, raggedly. She dropped her arm, cutting power to her blaster. "And you'll help me kill them?"
"Of course." Airachnid turned around, smiling. Her teeth were sharp, fanglike. "What else are friends for?"
Title is shockingly not from a song. Instead, it's from the coolest part of Blade II.
Why doesn't Arcee become a terrorcon? I dunno.
Written for tfrarepair: Airachnid/Arcee – enemy of my enemy.
Thanks for reading!