Title: Mental Revenge
Characters/Pairing: one-sided Tarantulas/Blackarachnia and one-sided Quickstrike/Blackarachnia
Universe/Continuity: Beast Wars
Rating: PG
Warnings: -
For the tf-rare-pairing LJ community weekly request prompt: Tarantulas/Blackarachnia – rejected
Notes:
First fic in ages. Shamefully degenerates into OOCness which I try to justify with how awkward Tarantulas was about BA's seductive tendencies in a couple of first season episodes. High chances of being awkward writing-wise. Partly because I spent half as much time figuring what to call Tarantulas' cute little gnashy mouththings than actually writing the fic. Title's from Waylon Jennings' song "Mental Revenge".
Takes place BW season 2, shortly after "Tangled Web". Fic won't probably make sense without general knowledge of that ep's happenings. So, just in case some of you haven't spent last two days rewatching BW: The arachnid trio were planning on maybe deserting the Predacons, but then Blackarachnia forced Tarantulas to break the mental link thing between the two of them and Tarantulas was pretty pissed off about it.
Mental Revenge
Tarantulas ran his claws over the keyboard, content with his little modification to the Predacon scanning system and the false leads he had sprinkled within the system. The excess tinkering he had done after updating the system as per Megatron's orders was fairly unnoticeable in itself, but with all the junk code he was writing Tarantulas could be certain no-one'd figure the system was transmitting data to the computer in his personal lair. He let out a satisfied chuckle which took no time to escalate into full-blown maniacal outburst.
"What are you up to now, Legs?"
The scientist rolled his chair around to face the femme leaning against the doorframe. Quickstrike was at her side, cautiously inching closer to his "sugarbot" now that Blackarachnia's attention had shifted from the Fuzor's unwanted advances to the other spiderbot. Tarantulas raised his optic ridge, one more chuckle twitching on his maw. "Nothing at all, she-spider."
"Uh-huh, just rehearsing your mad scientist's laugh? What's going on in that devious head of yours?"
"So now you want a part in my plans, widow? And here I thought our, hm, separation was final. I have no need of a partner who's able to disagree with me."
The quip about their recently destroyed mental link brought a sneer to Blackarachnia's lips. Tension flooded her posture and the femme did not seem to mind when Quickstrike scooted even closer to her, no doubt believing his advance was all discreet-like.
Tarantulas snorted and slouched into his chair, steepled claws clicking together lazily. The enamoured Fuzor had been glued to Blackarachnia's side ever since the black widow had violently excluded herself from Tarantulas' plans. The scientist refused to believe Quickstrike's newly found clinginess was a product of chance rather than that of sweet words. Tarantulas had not been happy about her treachery; the manipulative witch had all the reason to have extra eyes watching her back. A moron with a crush would make for ample bodyguard material.
"I was just curious, Webs." Blackarachnia offered him a fanged leer, hips cocking to one side, the presence of her bodyguard contributing to her relaxed disdain.
"Careful, witch. Curiosity might harm spiders, too." Tarantulas cackled, more for laugh's sake than out of the usual wicked glee. The femme's obnoxiousness had amused him back when a quick mental intervention had put her back in her place. Now the smug lilt of her vocalizer made the spider legs twitch on his back, blindly grabbing for air.
"Oh? I doubt any harm will come to me inside the Predacon base. Megatron might not be overly fond of me, but he's too short on allies to be picky. Besides, I'm sure Quickstrike here can protect me. Such a strong bot, aren't you?" Blackarachnia turned to her Fuzor companion with a coo, a seductive claw drawing circles on the bot's torso plate.
"Uhuh, that's right. Ain't no-one gonna harm Sugarbot on my watch." The Fuzor bounced on his feet in the moronic way that looked even more ridiculous when he was twitching on his two feet instead of his beast mode's scorpion legs. The motion came to halt soon enough, exchanged for a hopeful glance down the hallway. "Um, weren't we heading to Bossbot? He promised us some Maximal tail to kick…"
The Fuzor trailed off, tone enthusiastic. Itching for violence, as usual.
"Megatron summoned you? You two should be on your way," Tarantulas said, eager to restore his privacy. His non-assigned sabotage work was sensitive and potentially lethal to him, no matter how short on allies Megatron was. The scientist turned his chair to stare at the monitor, resuming his typing. "You wouldn't want to displease our leader, would you? I have work to do, too."
"I'm sure Quickstrike can handle whatever task Megatron has on his own. We need to talk, Legs."
Tarantulas' hands twitched mid-word. He had no business with Blackarachnia as long as going through with his promise of dismantling her for her treachery was out of question. Still, the Fuzor had bounced away toward the main hall, the happy clicks of his violence-ready claws barely audible by now. Leaving the two of them together. The femme sauntered closer, stopping right behind his back.
"What do you want, witch?" Tarantulas spat, claws crawling over the keyboard just to occupy themselves.
"I want to know what you're so upset about. You must've known I'd eventually- -"
"Betray me?"
"- -regain my freedom. And we were 'partners' even before you decided to take control over my mind. I might have willingly cooperated with you if not for the death threats."
Tarantulas let out an ugly sound, stuck somewhere between a snort and dry laugh. "Ah, but I don't need another brain in my plans. Extra claws and charms, sure; ones without their own agendas."
He glanced at the femme out the corner of his optic, tone lower than before when he continued, "We could have left these pathetic Predacons. My mental control over you would have kept your treacherous tendencies in check. As for Quickstrike, you have him wrapped in your webs. Our arachnid faction could've been glorious."
"I think I still prefer my freedom over your delusional visions. And don't toy with me, Webs. You always have some secret plan of your own." The femme burst into a high-pitched laugh. Her next words came out soaked in scorn, "It's not as if you just wanted to play house with me."
Tarantulas froze in that creeping sort of realisation, Blackarachnia's words jabbing without warning. He glanced back at the femme, suddenly fidgety.
He… He had actually entertained thoughts of sharing his lair with the she-spider. Of the two them becoming more than just coconspirators.
His transmetal skin crawled with the unfamiliar thought and the realisation that it had been hiding within his mind for who knew how long. Tarantulas was barely aware that he'd taken too long to answer.
Blackarachnia broke the charged silence with a disbelieving cackle, spinning the scientist's chair around. A sharp claw infiltrated his personal space, scratching under his chin as a victorious grin spread over her face. Tarantulas' maws fluttered at the rare physical contact, beast mode and its instincts screaming for control. His spider legs kneaded the air, restless.
Blackarachnia stared, then threw her head back in a toothy, hysterical laugh. She recovered with a shake of her head and a pursed-lips smile filled with mock sympathy. "You hoped there'd been some sweet arachnid relationship between the two of us? That'd be almost cute if it wasn't so pathetic!"
Tarantulas snarled with embarrassed anger, kicking himself to his feet. The chair skidded to his left, coming to a loud stop against the console there. He lashed out at the femme, unsure whether he meant to punch or to grab. Blackarachnia danced out his reach with a lazy sidestep.
His fist trembled mid-air, purposeless and confused.
"You know, Ugly, even if I was interested in you, I'm a black widow. My kind does not exactly do 'long-term'." She leered, letting her words sink into the confused silence before turning on her heel. She glanced over her shoulder from the doorway, winking. "See you around, Tarantulas."
The use of his actual designation, first during this encounter and strangely impersonal, struck hard. Rage boiled inside him, his words coming out brutal and raw, "You'll have to leave this base eventually, witch! I'll catch you alone and you'll pay!"
The echo of the she-spider's gleeful laugh rang in his audials long after the actual sound had faded. An absurd bitterness settled about his spark, more angering than embarrassing. Tarantulas kicked the abused chair for good measure before sitting down by the computer once more.
He only found half his jumbled processor and no spark at all to put into his work.