Blurb: A moment of peace in the Beast Wars - Just long enough for a strange
little orb-thing and a bit of romance to make an appearance.
Small Things
All-rounders are never the ones who get any credit, Waspinator thought sadly, as he buzzed tiredly through the air on one of his (exceedingly rare) excursions out of the base that did NOT involve firefights.
Truth be told, Waspinator had never been given his due. He was a fairly adept fighter when random objects weren't raining down on him from nowhere, he could manage a computer without blowing it up (which was more than Quickstrike could do) and he what he lacked in charisma he made up for in common sense. Common sense that dictated : If there is ONE of you, and SEVERAL of the enemy, running like the hounds of Hades are on your tail may be the best plan of action. Of course, common sense also dictated that if your leader is likely to savagely maul you should you disobey - you may be better off with the enemy.
Just because I have a speech impediment doesn't mean I'm stupid.
He wasn't a genius, he wasn't a leader and he certainly wasn't a killing machine. But he WAS a jack of all trades, able to do what was necessary in every scenario, and all he got for his efforts was quality time with the CR chamber.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he paid little heed to the small sphere, glowing red on the ground.
___________________________________
Waspinator wasn't the only one lamenting his lot in life - but his kindred spirit was distinctly more vocal.
"Stupid slagging scout patrol...get someone who can move quickly to do it...Wasp, dinosaur, psychopathic crab and flying ant lounging around doing slag all and who does he send? The spider. Scrappin' genius."
Blackarachnia had been dragged out of her bed at 5am by a mad loyalist insect and her day had only plummetted downhill from there. The fact that Inferno was now recovering from a venom bolt at five centimetres (Predacon rule of thumb - under the pillow is as good a place as any to store weapons) did little to alleviate her mood. Unpredictable at the best of times, vicious at the worst, even Megatron had taken a hasty few paces back when he'd seen the murderous look on the sole female Predacon's eyes. He HAD, in actual fact, wanted her to run through a system's check while the Beast Wars paused for breath, but had decided that he wanted to live to see the rest of the day and sent her outside the base instead - the theory being that the cold winter air would "cool her off."
Of course, "Theory" and "Practice" are two entirely different things. Given the choice, when the temperature is cold enough to affect even metallic bodies, most would prefer to remain snugly inside - especially if "inside" is next to a volcano.
She shivered. She'd always thought of this as a warm planet, and the cold was more of a shock than a menace. It was an obnoxious type of weather that came in the form of slashing winds and icy ground rather than snow.
"Could've at least sent someone out to keep me company."
The notion was so absurd that she laughed. She, the widow, the witch, the shrew, the vixen, the bad-tempered seductress, lonely? And who would she want as company anyway? The others were fools and inconveniences, not companions...and certainly not friends. No, she didn't want any of them, she decided. Misery loved company, that was all, and she didn't see why she had to suffer alone.
She trudged onward.
_______________________________
The Axalon rang with the usual sounds - Rhinox typing, Cheetor snoring, Optimus pondering (not actually a noise, but he thought so hard Rhinox was CONVINCED he could hear it) and Rattrap baiting Dinobot.
Eventually, the last source of bedlam was too much for Optimus to handle, and, in a rare display of temper, he aimed a file at the feuding pair and slammed the door. This had the desired effect - for the moment anyway. Rattrap would have a field day teasing the resident angsty anti-hero about being rendered unconscious by an airborne file thrown by a frustrated monkey, but right now all was silent. And that was really all Optimus Primal wanted just now.
He was tired. No, that was putting it politely. All he really wanted to do was go into hibernation. Two years of fighting, two warriors missing, presumed dead, two former allies programmed to the Predacon cause - three if you counted Quickstrike, but that was more malfunction than deliberate plan - a maniac protoform resurrected and Optimus's own death and rebirth.
He sighed. Say what you like about death, but at least it's peaceful.
He was worried about Dinobot - not about the fact that he was unconscious at this moment, but because he'd reached new levels of moodiness recently. Optimus was almost certain that this wasn't a good thing. Between golden discs, alien abductions and Predacons, the last thing he needed was a cranky lizard.
He did a mental runthrough of the Maximal army. Cheetor was sleeping off monitor duty, Dinobot had been dragged back into his quarters, Rattrap had wandered off to talk to Rhinox, Rhinox himself was at the controls, and Silverbolt was merrily flying around outside - supposedly on scout patrol, but Optimus suspected he was glad of an excuse to stretch his wings.
He sighed. All was as well as it could be. Part of him noted that Predacon silence meant trouble...but a bigger part of him just couldn't be bothered to care. Instead, he decided that a short, tactical nap was required in order to keep his wits sharp. For purely strategic purposes, of course.
______________________________
Waspinator was happy.
A small blue flower had poked its face out of the frosty soil, and it had attracted his attention both as a Transformer and a wasp. Perhaps even more so than Tigatron and Silverbolt, Waspinator appreciated the small things in life. Tigatron liked the grandiose spectacle of the world in all its glory, and the fuzor tended to be drawn to scenes of romantic, quietly spectacular, beauty. Not so Waspinator. It wasn't the big, earth shattering events or the catastrophes, but the little things. Flowers. Pretty skies. The moon.
He was easily pleased, but then again, perhaps that's why he could put up with the eternal bad joke that was his life.
More people should notice things like this, he thought. Maybe then they wouldn't be so angry all the time.
A wasp probably wouldn't have been his first choice for a beast mode, he admitted to himself. He certainly thought that when Megatron ordered the scanners to pick "the strongest beast modes in the area," he had got the short end of the stick. Wasps were spiteful, nippy creatures with foul tempers. All Waspinator wanted was to be left in peace and to avoid being shot to pieces once in a while.
A movement caught his eye, and he spotted the gold and black form of Blackarachnia crossing the area behind him. Curious, he followed her as noiselessly as possible...
__________________________________
That did it.
It was freezing, she'd been out all day, it was getting dark early and it looked like rain. Or snow. She'd had ENOUGH.
Wherever this world was, it had shelter in the form of caves and ledges, especially in these rocky outcrops. She made for the nearest one, pitying whatever unfortunate bear, tiger or bat that happened to cross her path. With the mood she was in, she'd make a pelt out of them - except the bat, which would do for a small pillow.
Surprisingly, the first thing she stumbled into in the darkness was soft...and warm...perfect for a Pred who had only just realised how tired she was...
____________________________________
"Where IS that spider?"
Let it never be said that leaders of Predacon factions did not suffer from a fair amount of stress. Usually said stress was more to do with being backstabbed and losing to the good guys than out of concern for fellow soldiers, but stress was stress and Megatron didn't like it.
Inferno looked up, immediately on the alert. "What is the matter, Royalty?"
"That dratted female is missing again. Send a spider outside and you're bound to trip over their webs when you try to find them again."
The ant was instantly jealous of Blackarachnia's monopoly of Megatron's concern - or at least, as close to actual worry as the Queen ever came to regarding his minions.
"She will be retrieved, Royalty!"
"No, no. She'll come back...she'd BETTER come back. Preferably WITHOUT any devious schemes, yeeeessss..."
He sighed and straightened. "Speaking of spiders...Find Tarantulas, Inferno, see if he's made any progress on our alien friends..."
____________________________________
Blackarachnia stirred. The air was still cold, but she wasn't an icicle, to her great astonishment. Mainly, due, she supposed, to her head rest...
A head rest which was BREATHING.
With a yelp of surprise, she catapulted to her feet, snatching up her crossbow.
"Make one move and I swear, I'll make a fur coat out of you..."
"Very well, M'lady...but you'll have to get rid of the feathers first."
Blackarachnia hit the ground once more. She should've known... yes, there was the outline of a muzzle, the light gleaming off of talons, darker wings casting shadows on the wall, and green eyes staring up at her, amused.
Silverbolt had been surprised to find that he was being used as a pillow by his newly acquainted love interest, but he was hardly adverse to the idea. When he'd woken to find a snoozing Blackarachnia cosied up against him, he'd been convinced that he was having an odd, if pleasant, dream, and if it WAS real, he certainly wasn't about to risk her wrath in waking her. And besides, she was strangely...huggable.
Blackarachnia, on the other hand, was trying to restart her fuel pump after the fright she'd had. She wasn't entirely sure if she was furious or glad to see the sappy wolf-thing again, but before she started to figure that out, she had to calm down.
"Are you all right?"
"No thanks to YOU!" she informed him, dragging herself into sa sitting position. "You scared the slag outta me. Mind you," she added as an afterthought. "I'm not sure what worries me most - that you're here, or that you're here and making jokes." She sighed. "And I was having such a nice sleep too...Now I have to kill you."
Silverbolt didn't blink.
Aaw, Primus, not even I believe I'm going to kill him...
"Y'know what? Forget it. Let's just pretend this entire conversation never happened."
"Fair enough. What are you doing here, m'lady?"
"Hey, "ladies" first. What were YOU doing here?"
Silverbolt smiled. "It's cold. I needed to thaw out before I flew back."
"Yeah, well. Same here. Except SOME of us have to WALK."
There was a pause.
"I...I could fly you back. If you insist on remaining with the Predacon faction..."
"Don't. Start. Or I WILL shoot you..."
"...I'll take you back."
She looked at him. She didn't know this Maximal well enough to tru...Well, she did. He was too thick to be treacherous, she told herself.
"All right. Least you can do for scaring me..."
To his astonishment, she promptly resettled herself against him, and went on to give a detailed description of EXACTLY what she thought of Megatron, the other Predacons, the Maximals...
Silverbolt listened politely.
____________________________
Waspinator had to stifle his laugh, which would have blown his cover completely. He wasn't dim enough not to realise what Blackarachnia was refusing to admit was happening, what Silverbolt was hoping would happen, and what was, in actual fact, happening.
He debated on telling Megatron...and as quickly as the notion was there, it vanished.
"Waspinator! Come in, bug!"
Speak of the devil..."Wazzpinator to Megatron. What Wazzpinator do now?"
"You insolent...oh, whatever. Return to base immediately!"
The wasp sighed. He'd hoped to fly a bit longer...and he'd picked up that pretty little red and black ball...no doubt Megatron would interrogate him about it. No single thing, no matter how insignificant, passed into the Predacon base without scrutiny from the dinosaur...
"Yezz, Megatron..."
"Oh, and Waspinator, have you seen the widow anywhere?"
The stupid bug, the comic relief, the general punching bag, looked back towards the cave conversation and decided.
"No, Megatron."
"Very well...If you DO see her, bring her back her IMMEDIATELY. Megatron out."
It was really none of his business, Waspinator thought. Just one of those little things.
Small Things
All-rounders are never the ones who get any credit, Waspinator thought sadly, as he buzzed tiredly through the air on one of his (exceedingly rare) excursions out of the base that did NOT involve firefights.
Truth be told, Waspinator had never been given his due. He was a fairly adept fighter when random objects weren't raining down on him from nowhere, he could manage a computer without blowing it up (which was more than Quickstrike could do) and he what he lacked in charisma he made up for in common sense. Common sense that dictated : If there is ONE of you, and SEVERAL of the enemy, running like the hounds of Hades are on your tail may be the best plan of action. Of course, common sense also dictated that if your leader is likely to savagely maul you should you disobey - you may be better off with the enemy.
Just because I have a speech impediment doesn't mean I'm stupid.
He wasn't a genius, he wasn't a leader and he certainly wasn't a killing machine. But he WAS a jack of all trades, able to do what was necessary in every scenario, and all he got for his efforts was quality time with the CR chamber.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he paid little heed to the small sphere, glowing red on the ground.
___________________________________
Waspinator wasn't the only one lamenting his lot in life - but his kindred spirit was distinctly more vocal.
"Stupid slagging scout patrol...get someone who can move quickly to do it...Wasp, dinosaur, psychopathic crab and flying ant lounging around doing slag all and who does he send? The spider. Scrappin' genius."
Blackarachnia had been dragged out of her bed at 5am by a mad loyalist insect and her day had only plummetted downhill from there. The fact that Inferno was now recovering from a venom bolt at five centimetres (Predacon rule of thumb - under the pillow is as good a place as any to store weapons) did little to alleviate her mood. Unpredictable at the best of times, vicious at the worst, even Megatron had taken a hasty few paces back when he'd seen the murderous look on the sole female Predacon's eyes. He HAD, in actual fact, wanted her to run through a system's check while the Beast Wars paused for breath, but had decided that he wanted to live to see the rest of the day and sent her outside the base instead - the theory being that the cold winter air would "cool her off."
Of course, "Theory" and "Practice" are two entirely different things. Given the choice, when the temperature is cold enough to affect even metallic bodies, most would prefer to remain snugly inside - especially if "inside" is next to a volcano.
She shivered. She'd always thought of this as a warm planet, and the cold was more of a shock than a menace. It was an obnoxious type of weather that came in the form of slashing winds and icy ground rather than snow.
"Could've at least sent someone out to keep me company."
The notion was so absurd that she laughed. She, the widow, the witch, the shrew, the vixen, the bad-tempered seductress, lonely? And who would she want as company anyway? The others were fools and inconveniences, not companions...and certainly not friends. No, she didn't want any of them, she decided. Misery loved company, that was all, and she didn't see why she had to suffer alone.
She trudged onward.
_______________________________
The Axalon rang with the usual sounds - Rhinox typing, Cheetor snoring, Optimus pondering (not actually a noise, but he thought so hard Rhinox was CONVINCED he could hear it) and Rattrap baiting Dinobot.
Eventually, the last source of bedlam was too much for Optimus to handle, and, in a rare display of temper, he aimed a file at the feuding pair and slammed the door. This had the desired effect - for the moment anyway. Rattrap would have a field day teasing the resident angsty anti-hero about being rendered unconscious by an airborne file thrown by a frustrated monkey, but right now all was silent. And that was really all Optimus Primal wanted just now.
He was tired. No, that was putting it politely. All he really wanted to do was go into hibernation. Two years of fighting, two warriors missing, presumed dead, two former allies programmed to the Predacon cause - three if you counted Quickstrike, but that was more malfunction than deliberate plan - a maniac protoform resurrected and Optimus's own death and rebirth.
He sighed. Say what you like about death, but at least it's peaceful.
He was worried about Dinobot - not about the fact that he was unconscious at this moment, but because he'd reached new levels of moodiness recently. Optimus was almost certain that this wasn't a good thing. Between golden discs, alien abductions and Predacons, the last thing he needed was a cranky lizard.
He did a mental runthrough of the Maximal army. Cheetor was sleeping off monitor duty, Dinobot had been dragged back into his quarters, Rattrap had wandered off to talk to Rhinox, Rhinox himself was at the controls, and Silverbolt was merrily flying around outside - supposedly on scout patrol, but Optimus suspected he was glad of an excuse to stretch his wings.
He sighed. All was as well as it could be. Part of him noted that Predacon silence meant trouble...but a bigger part of him just couldn't be bothered to care. Instead, he decided that a short, tactical nap was required in order to keep his wits sharp. For purely strategic purposes, of course.
______________________________
Waspinator was happy.
A small blue flower had poked its face out of the frosty soil, and it had attracted his attention both as a Transformer and a wasp. Perhaps even more so than Tigatron and Silverbolt, Waspinator appreciated the small things in life. Tigatron liked the grandiose spectacle of the world in all its glory, and the fuzor tended to be drawn to scenes of romantic, quietly spectacular, beauty. Not so Waspinator. It wasn't the big, earth shattering events or the catastrophes, but the little things. Flowers. Pretty skies. The moon.
He was easily pleased, but then again, perhaps that's why he could put up with the eternal bad joke that was his life.
More people should notice things like this, he thought. Maybe then they wouldn't be so angry all the time.
A wasp probably wouldn't have been his first choice for a beast mode, he admitted to himself. He certainly thought that when Megatron ordered the scanners to pick "the strongest beast modes in the area," he had got the short end of the stick. Wasps were spiteful, nippy creatures with foul tempers. All Waspinator wanted was to be left in peace and to avoid being shot to pieces once in a while.
A movement caught his eye, and he spotted the gold and black form of Blackarachnia crossing the area behind him. Curious, he followed her as noiselessly as possible...
__________________________________
That did it.
It was freezing, she'd been out all day, it was getting dark early and it looked like rain. Or snow. She'd had ENOUGH.
Wherever this world was, it had shelter in the form of caves and ledges, especially in these rocky outcrops. She made for the nearest one, pitying whatever unfortunate bear, tiger or bat that happened to cross her path. With the mood she was in, she'd make a pelt out of them - except the bat, which would do for a small pillow.
Surprisingly, the first thing she stumbled into in the darkness was soft...and warm...perfect for a Pred who had only just realised how tired she was...
____________________________________
"Where IS that spider?"
Let it never be said that leaders of Predacon factions did not suffer from a fair amount of stress. Usually said stress was more to do with being backstabbed and losing to the good guys than out of concern for fellow soldiers, but stress was stress and Megatron didn't like it.
Inferno looked up, immediately on the alert. "What is the matter, Royalty?"
"That dratted female is missing again. Send a spider outside and you're bound to trip over their webs when you try to find them again."
The ant was instantly jealous of Blackarachnia's monopoly of Megatron's concern - or at least, as close to actual worry as the Queen ever came to regarding his minions.
"She will be retrieved, Royalty!"
"No, no. She'll come back...she'd BETTER come back. Preferably WITHOUT any devious schemes, yeeeessss..."
He sighed and straightened. "Speaking of spiders...Find Tarantulas, Inferno, see if he's made any progress on our alien friends..."
____________________________________
Blackarachnia stirred. The air was still cold, but she wasn't an icicle, to her great astonishment. Mainly, due, she supposed, to her head rest...
A head rest which was BREATHING.
With a yelp of surprise, she catapulted to her feet, snatching up her crossbow.
"Make one move and I swear, I'll make a fur coat out of you..."
"Very well, M'lady...but you'll have to get rid of the feathers first."
Blackarachnia hit the ground once more. She should've known... yes, there was the outline of a muzzle, the light gleaming off of talons, darker wings casting shadows on the wall, and green eyes staring up at her, amused.
Silverbolt had been surprised to find that he was being used as a pillow by his newly acquainted love interest, but he was hardly adverse to the idea. When he'd woken to find a snoozing Blackarachnia cosied up against him, he'd been convinced that he was having an odd, if pleasant, dream, and if it WAS real, he certainly wasn't about to risk her wrath in waking her. And besides, she was strangely...huggable.
Blackarachnia, on the other hand, was trying to restart her fuel pump after the fright she'd had. She wasn't entirely sure if she was furious or glad to see the sappy wolf-thing again, but before she started to figure that out, she had to calm down.
"Are you all right?"
"No thanks to YOU!" she informed him, dragging herself into sa sitting position. "You scared the slag outta me. Mind you," she added as an afterthought. "I'm not sure what worries me most - that you're here, or that you're here and making jokes." She sighed. "And I was having such a nice sleep too...Now I have to kill you."
Silverbolt didn't blink.
Aaw, Primus, not even I believe I'm going to kill him...
"Y'know what? Forget it. Let's just pretend this entire conversation never happened."
"Fair enough. What are you doing here, m'lady?"
"Hey, "ladies" first. What were YOU doing here?"
Silverbolt smiled. "It's cold. I needed to thaw out before I flew back."
"Yeah, well. Same here. Except SOME of us have to WALK."
There was a pause.
"I...I could fly you back. If you insist on remaining with the Predacon faction..."
"Don't. Start. Or I WILL shoot you..."
"...I'll take you back."
She looked at him. She didn't know this Maximal well enough to tru...Well, she did. He was too thick to be treacherous, she told herself.
"All right. Least you can do for scaring me..."
To his astonishment, she promptly resettled herself against him, and went on to give a detailed description of EXACTLY what she thought of Megatron, the other Predacons, the Maximals...
Silverbolt listened politely.
____________________________
Waspinator had to stifle his laugh, which would have blown his cover completely. He wasn't dim enough not to realise what Blackarachnia was refusing to admit was happening, what Silverbolt was hoping would happen, and what was, in actual fact, happening.
He debated on telling Megatron...and as quickly as the notion was there, it vanished.
"Waspinator! Come in, bug!"
Speak of the devil..."Wazzpinator to Megatron. What Wazzpinator do now?"
"You insolent...oh, whatever. Return to base immediately!"
The wasp sighed. He'd hoped to fly a bit longer...and he'd picked up that pretty little red and black ball...no doubt Megatron would interrogate him about it. No single thing, no matter how insignificant, passed into the Predacon base without scrutiny from the dinosaur...
"Yezz, Megatron..."
"Oh, and Waspinator, have you seen the widow anywhere?"
The stupid bug, the comic relief, the general punching bag, looked back towards the cave conversation and decided.
"No, Megatron."
"Very well...If you DO see her, bring her back her IMMEDIATELY. Megatron out."
It was really none of his business, Waspinator thought. Just one of those little things.