Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers
Please R&R
(Plot Bunny bit me... Enjoy!)
Frustrated, feeling violent and on a losing streak, Arachnid wasn't the happiest femme in the universe. But luckily, she still had a fraction of her collection that hadn't been scattered about the forest she had landed in. Burrowing down into her improvised museum, she revelled in the power she felt at having been the slayer of such beasts whose heads hung in preserver fluid. She scuttled forward past the remaining heads to a small alcove that housed a giant cocoon of charred webbing.
"At least you're still safe." She said to her finest prey, stroking the webbing that shielded the large, dead thing from view, "You earned me a little hunter of my own you know." She said conversationally digging her claws into the web and raking giant furrows in the deep cocoon trying to reveal her preserved prize. "Arcee will be most pleased to see you…"
The dented servo of a Cybertronian flopped from the folds; white and ruby paint chipped and faded, the plating grey beneath the coloured paint. The servo was soon followed by the rest of the frame clanging to the ground at Arachnids pedes as she knelt beside it and stroked the helm like a mother would an upset child.
"You were the last Cybertronian I killed before I left to started my Collection." She smiled to the helm, its dull lifeless golden optics staring up unseeing to the ceiling of her burrow, "I can't really remember your name." the spider cooed to the corpse, her clawed fingers raking away the ancient paint with ease, "I recall Arcee screamed it so sweetly when I speared you through the spark… your name is Tailgate isn't it?" she asked the corpse as she patted her servo over the killing wound, the frayed metal of the chest dull and fragile.
Never receiving an answer from the frame of a shattered mech named Tailgate, she cackled to the Trophies in her burrow as it shook when something passed overhead and her Communication Link flared into life. "Arachnid," the gravelly voice of an old human friend rumbled through her audio's "Why did you call me here?"
"Ah, Silas." She purred happily still petting the dead Cybertronian's helm in her lap. "I have a proposition for you my dear."
"Go on." The Leader of M.E.C.H replied cautiously and Arachnid cackled as she imagined his wary frown.
"You and I both want revenge on the Autobots for our failures, specifically Arcee." Arachnid pointed out, her fingers clutching the helm and its body harder as if it would disappear from her grasp if she let it go. "And I have the key to bring her down…"
===Jack's Room===
"I hate waking up with a headache." Jackson moaned into his pillow that beautiful desert morning, the sun beaming light straight into his eyes from the window, his chest also stung as well in a mild case of heartburn.
"Jack if you're not up in ten minute's you'll be late for school!" his mother's voice pierced the throbbing fog of pain that had taken up residence in his head and chest.
Groaning, Jackson Darby rolled from his bed grabbing for the usual headache pills that took up residence at his bedside table near his clock.
Headaches had been happening a lot recently, though they had started after his second encounter with Arcee's bitter rival, the spider like femme known as Arachnid who had slain one of the motorcycles partners. The headaches began after every restless dream, where he would recall echoes of laughter, blaster shots or pain.
He sighed as he got dressed; his aches and pains disappearing with the medicine as he hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder.
"Hey Arcee." He greeted the motorcycle femme that sat brooding in her alternate mode.
"Hello Jack." The femme replied, amusement lacing her tone as he scrubbed at his face, mentally bemoaning the last day of classes before the summer vacation officially began. "Really for school?"
"I wish I could just skip it like Miko tries to." Jack grumbled as he mounted the motorcycle, the white garage door rising with its usual creak and rattle as Arcee revved her engine.
"No, chance." The femme chuckled, "Hang on tight."
"You worry too much, partner." Jack grinned strapping on his helmet as Arcee's form gave an odd little wince as he mentioned that tabooed word when they left his driveway.
===The Spark===
Tailgate dreamed silently, his spark, his soul pulsing in time with his boy's organic heart. A familiar presence was with his boy, he could taste the pulses of her soul that touched his own. But it was tainted, shattered and stoked in the fires of sorrow.
Partner.
That was her, the dreaming spark whispered to itself…
Partner…