Author's Note: More angst. Odd narrative here, but it's the one I thought
worked best. More stretching of the imagination required, and the
timeline's been tweaked, so that this is AFTER "Big Brother." Logical.
Surprising really.
Once again, thanks to Chaotic Serenity for beta-reading and general help.
Fight or Flee?
Cybertronian night life isn't terrifically different from Earth's. Younger Transformers can be found lounging in cafes and cinemas far into the early hours of the morning, if they tend towards a quiet disposition, or in the clubs and streets of the metal metropolis if they tend towards the noisier, even reckless side of life.
Of course, Cybertron is not Earth, and the music blaring out of the nightclubs at midnight sports frequencies inaudible to human ears, as well as sounding about as melodic as a pile of saucepans being knocked on a tin floor. The robotic variation of dancing too, would have their organic neighbours blinking in confusion.
But music, dance and leisure, no matter what form they metamorphose into, are universal languages that will find their way into any and every culture. As you enter this particular nightclub, it looks "normal" - most of the people there look like what passes for "young" on this planet, some are older, there are two hulking juggernauts of Transformers on the door, and drinks look slightly ominous (is that cocktail meant to be that acid green shade?).
A lot of attention seems to be centred around a particularly stunning female Transformer, who for the most part, does not seem to appreciate the notice. "Leave me be" is practically tatooed across her elegant features, and you pity the unfortunate soul who tests her temper tonight.
You promptly realize that that means pitying yourself...you want to sit, and the only vacant seat is right next to the elegant, black-haired and most probably bad-tempered girl...or is it woman? It's hard to tell from a distance.
You sit down, deciding to chance your arm, and smile nervously as her gaze turns to you. From here, you can see that she IS slightly older, but still relatively young...as far as that makes sense. To your surprise (and relief), she simply smiles back. Tiredly. Like someone the fight has left completely.
Unknowingly, you are drawn into a conversation with Blackarachnia, Maximal femme fatale and veteran of the Beast and Technorganic Wars...
________________________________________________________
Don't look at me like that, kid, I don't bite. Well, not unless I'm all out of ammo anyway.
JOKING. Geez...Look, I'm not angry, all right? I'm just...just tired. Thought I may as well get out of that dratted hotel tonight as lie around moping. Which, come to think of it, would be preferable to putting up with THESE morons.
I'm Blackarachnia, by the way...yes, THAT Blackarachnia. Do me a favour and don't run away screaming, will ya? Who're you?
...Nice name.
WHY am I moping? Kid, you're trying your luck there! I'm a black widow spider...at least, I was. Hard to call yourself that when you're coloured luminous pink, isn't it..?
Oh, so you DO laugh? Good, I was beginning to wonder
Anyway, like I said, spiders aren't exactly social, heart to heart creatures...
...
But by the Pit, I'm beyond caring. Look, just don't go blabbing to the Cybertronian Chronicle and I'll tell you without having to kill you, all right?
Right then.
It all comes down to romance...I suppose it always does in the end. You'll have heard of Silverbolt, I take it? Big, tall guy, long chin, purple, transforms into a condor? Yeah, the one with the supercilious expression on his face...trust me, he wasn't always like that. I wouldn't have looked twice at him if he'd always been an arrogant bas...er, idiot. You see, that's my lover, partner, boyfriend, whatever term you want to call it. Though as far as I'm concerned, "boyfriend" is way too tame a term to cover some of the things we got up to...
Trust me kid, you DON'T want to know. Like I said, repeat this to anyone and you will not live to see the next morning. Although I'm pretty sure the entire slaggin' planet knows we were involved to some degree.
Anyway...I guess you've also heard that Silverbolt was attacked, kidnapped and corrupted to create Jetstorm, right? If you don't, just accept the shorthand version, I don't really want to go into it. Time was, Silverbolt was the most adorable Transformer on Earth (not that there was a lot of competition, with so few of us on the planet). Wasn't a condor either. His stasis pod was pretty fried, so that mucked up his beast mode. He was a Fuzor, half wolf, half eagle, and even in robot mode he LOOKED it. Muzzle and all. You've heard of the expression "puppy dog eyes," haven't you? No real canine had anything on 'Bolt.
I was a Pred at the time. And Primus dammit, much as I tried to shoot him, hate him, maim him seriously in some way, I never managed. Got a few shots in, but he barely blinked. Kept going on about "inner Maximal goodness" until I wanted to choke him.
Yes, we ARE talking about the same Silverbolt, not two 'bots with the same name. That obnoxious creep with the snooty attitude was once my fluffy, adorable, thick-as-a-brick Bowser.
I'd always thought of myself as streetwise - been there, done that, got the scars to prove it. But I'd never learned that things change. There was one side, there's the other, jump between them if you like, Primus knows I did, but they stay the same.
Stupid, stupid, STUPID. I should have known that good things can't last, and bad things get worse.
As a Pred, I lived day to day, kept my wits about me and watched my own back, because no-one would watch it for me. I joined the Maximals, and I got complacent. Silverbolt was always there, always on the other side of the comm, always around when I needed - WANTED - him to be there. He was there even when I didn't need him. And I liked it. I liked HIM.
And then...if there's anything to learn from this, kid, it's "when things can't get any better, they get WORSE."
Damn I missed him. I couldn't even remember he even existed at first - stupid sounding, ain't it? That virus did a number on our memory circuits all right - but when I took my memory back, when I pieced together the puzzle....I didn't care about Megatron. Didn't care about Optimus raving on about the organic, didn't care about Cheetor being second in command, didn't care about Rattrap's problems. I'd lost my lover, and I wanted him back over and above any cause the others could give me.
Which was why, after several errors of judgement on my part (long story), I left Optimus and Cheetor to Megatron for a while - and I dealt with Jetstorm.
For once in this damn war, my plan worked. Jetstorm was Silverbolt again, not as I knew him but I didn't care. And...
He just...flew away.
He said my name. He recognized me. Then he told me to get back. Deserted me, just like that. I caught up with him, told him - well, told him to get over himself, basically, but I phrased it more sensitively than that. I can be nice when it suits me.
He threw a tantrum, to put it bluntly, and jumped on me...
Get your mind out of the gutter NOW.
We are NOT talking nights of passion here, we are talking actively, aggressively pouncing me, as if those condor talons or whatever you call them, were going to make spider sushi out of me.
I thought there'd been some mistake - did I have Silverbolt, or an angsty version of Jetstorm on my hands?
No such bloody luck. Had that been the case, I'd have knocked him over the head with something and tried again. But no, this was Silverbolt, angsty version.
What a slap in the face.
Y'see, I'd never wanted to fall in love with Silverbolt. But he managed to make me do just that, and he wasn't even trying. It's hard to explain...I knew he'd do anything for me. I could have used that to my advantage, I DID do that to some extent but...I couldn't bring myself to hurt him. Physically or emotionally, the worst I could do was minimal damage. Even when I insulted him, I didn't aim as low as usually did - I actually got ANGRY when anyone referred to him as "freak" or "mutant." He was MINE. No- one else had any right to put him down. Insert joke about Black Widow Spiders here.
...Never mind. I take it Earth Zoology wasn't your strongest subject?
So protectiveness breeds protectiveness. Nobody touched me for fear of Silverbolt's wrath. Anyone who laid a hand (pincer, claw, whatever) on Silverbolt answered to ME.
He doesn't want that any more. He doesn't want to protect me, he doesn't want to be protected BY me.
He doesn't want me.
What a slap in the face.
Thing is, kid, I know there's girls put up with worse. Boyfriends and husbands who treat them like dirt, or take them for granted. Men who keep them as trophy pieces and status symbols. Men who think that it's fine for them to go off and screw someone else while they're dating, but Primus help the woman who dares cheat on her boyfriend! Tell me, what's the male equivalent of a slut?
...Okay, yeah, you've got a point, getting sidetracked. What I'm saying is that there's females out there who put up with a hell of a lot more than I do, to the point of staying with "lovers" who are a real danger to them.
Compared to that, Silverbolt's still the model partner.
I'm just spoiled. I'm used to having him by my side, all the time. Used to him loving me and making it very clear that he loves me.
...Don't look at me like that, brat, there ARE people like that in existence. Good luck finding one though.
It's not just that though, it's...how do I put this? Silverbolt's changed. That much is obvious. But...is that IT? Is the contemptuous, arrogant condor all I get? Or is he still Silverbolt underneath, just scared and hurt?
I thought it was the second one...my knight in shining armour just needed a little polish, that's all. Over time, I was so SURE he'd get back to normal.
He didn't. We couldn't talk it over because he didn't talk to me. He didn't even come near me. How the slag do you a help a person who refuses to be helped? And...and do you have any right to change a person back to what you think is "normal," if he's fine the way he is?
It was like...like on some level he enjoyed being the angsty anti-hero. Just like he'd enjoyed being my Romeo. And that got me thinking - was everything a lie? Maybe the Silverbolt I'd loved was a fascade, and this was the real deal. Maybe he was always pretending, in the Beast Wars and in the present day. Maybe I was a fool.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. The more I think about it, the more wound up I get, and it's ten times worse when you know his room's just down the hall from yours.
So yeah, I ran away. I was sick of fighting. He doesn't want me, fine. I risked my shell to get him back, I risked my spark to help him get over what happened as Jetstorm. He didn't want it. He can go to the Pit for all I care.
________________________________________________
You watch in silence as she pauses to drink. You understand what she's saying...and you know it's all a lie. Well, her not caring, anyway. Why would she have run away if she didn't care?
You're not entirely sure who to feel worst for - how can you? You don't know them personally. You don't know if your new acquaintance is being paranoid, or if she's close to the truth. You can't tell if her boyfriend is actually a prat not worth her time, or whether something's gone so badly wrong even he himself doesn't know how to cope.
You get the feeling you should say something in accordance or reassurance. Not a single useful phrase comes to mind.
"Is he worth fighting for?"
It takes you a moment to realize you've spoken, and you promptly kick yourself mentally, positive your shoulders are going to be wondering where your head's gone in the near future.
To your surprise, you're still conscious within the next thirty seconds. She seems to consider this briefly, and turns back to you with that same sad smile.
"You've got a point, kid."
_________________________________________________
It's not like I can claim to have been the model girlfriend. I guess a lot of this has been because I OWE Silverbolt. He never gave up on me, so I figured I shouldn't give up on him.
But there's a point - and I think I've reached it - there's a point you're tired. You don't have the strength, you don't have the will and Primus forgive me, but you don't have the heart. You're stretched to your limit, and the person you love more than Cybertron itself doesn't give a damn, and you just think "Fine, slag you." It's survival. No animal in its right mind does something knowing its gonna fail. Even the most primitive lifeform in the galaxy wouldn't waste it's time and energy on a pointless mission like that. Keep it up long enough, you'll kill yourself with exhaustion before you're thirty.
I don't know if he's worth it. I thought he was.
Aw hell, of course he's worth it. Wouldn't have bothered otherwise.
But you tell me, junior - what do I do? Hope he'll come round? Keep at it until he's sick of the sight of me? Or stay here in the hope that someone comes after me?
...nah, not fair to ask you really. You don't have a clue. Be thankful for that.
I thought about starting over, actually. Y'know. Beast Wars are over, Technorganic wars are over, byebye, Bowser, it was fun while it lasted. Time to find someone new.
Couldn't do it. Didn't WANT to. That slaggin' idiot means too much to me. I'm telling ya, if I absolutely fail to get a date ever again, he's getting the therapy bill!
So, however you look at it, I lose. If he's intent on being a moron, doesn't hurt him half as much as it hurts me. HE doesn't care if he's gone from Lancelot to Mordred. (Earth history, kid, come on, keep up!) I do.
So consider this my petty revenge. If...if he's still...if he's still Silverbolt, there's still that Pred part of me that wants to hurt him. Like he's hurt me. Let him worry. Let HIM feel guilty for a change. 'Course, doesn't matter if he doesn't care.
And in the end, kid? I'll go home anyway...
_______________________________________________________
There's a commotion at the door, and the bouncers seem to trip over something.
"BLACKARACHNIA!"
The voice is young (and breaks in the middle...), so it's safe to assume it's not her angsty lover screeching at the top of his lungs. Instead, a fairly slender, adolescent Maximal collides with the female spider at high speed, sending the three of you sprawling. Once you recover from your daze, you see that he sports a bizarre hairstyle, and wings at his ankles.
To be honest, your first thought is "Erk."
"Nightscream?! What the slag are you..?"
"It's Silverbolt. He's not...well. He collapsed the other day and..."
...and that's about as much as you can make out before he begins talking at supersonic speed.
Even as she argues with the newcomer, Blackarachnia wavers. You can see the question she's asking herself - is this serious enough to warrant me going back? The Pred wars with the Maximal, you suppose, and it seems awfully convenient timing. Was that bat on cue cards? "Enter the bat-thing, stage left"?
She decides. She helps you to your feet (nice of her, you think, especially considering her abruptness), and smiles wryly.
"Well, isn't life weird?" Looks like the decision's been made for me." She looks straight at you. "Thanks kid. You've been a help."
For what? you wonder.
"Listening. Anyway, see ya round. And don't forget - not a word!"
With a wave and a wink, she's away, a puzzled Nightscream in tow.
Well, that was odd, you think. Two choices now. Go home, or hang around the bar looking nervous....Hel-lo, what's this? That cute Transformer over to your left seems to be looking at you. As you watch, they smile and wave you over.
You think about it. You look at the retreating female, and think about what she's told you.
Is it worth it?
Only one way to find out.
Fight or Flee?
Cybertronian night life isn't terrifically different from Earth's. Younger Transformers can be found lounging in cafes and cinemas far into the early hours of the morning, if they tend towards a quiet disposition, or in the clubs and streets of the metal metropolis if they tend towards the noisier, even reckless side of life.
Of course, Cybertron is not Earth, and the music blaring out of the nightclubs at midnight sports frequencies inaudible to human ears, as well as sounding about as melodic as a pile of saucepans being knocked on a tin floor. The robotic variation of dancing too, would have their organic neighbours blinking in confusion.
But music, dance and leisure, no matter what form they metamorphose into, are universal languages that will find their way into any and every culture. As you enter this particular nightclub, it looks "normal" - most of the people there look like what passes for "young" on this planet, some are older, there are two hulking juggernauts of Transformers on the door, and drinks look slightly ominous (is that cocktail meant to be that acid green shade?).
A lot of attention seems to be centred around a particularly stunning female Transformer, who for the most part, does not seem to appreciate the notice. "Leave me be" is practically tatooed across her elegant features, and you pity the unfortunate soul who tests her temper tonight.
You promptly realize that that means pitying yourself...you want to sit, and the only vacant seat is right next to the elegant, black-haired and most probably bad-tempered girl...or is it woman? It's hard to tell from a distance.
You sit down, deciding to chance your arm, and smile nervously as her gaze turns to you. From here, you can see that she IS slightly older, but still relatively young...as far as that makes sense. To your surprise (and relief), she simply smiles back. Tiredly. Like someone the fight has left completely.
Unknowingly, you are drawn into a conversation with Blackarachnia, Maximal femme fatale and veteran of the Beast and Technorganic Wars...
________________________________________________________
Don't look at me like that, kid, I don't bite. Well, not unless I'm all out of ammo anyway.
JOKING. Geez...Look, I'm not angry, all right? I'm just...just tired. Thought I may as well get out of that dratted hotel tonight as lie around moping. Which, come to think of it, would be preferable to putting up with THESE morons.
I'm Blackarachnia, by the way...yes, THAT Blackarachnia. Do me a favour and don't run away screaming, will ya? Who're you?
...Nice name.
WHY am I moping? Kid, you're trying your luck there! I'm a black widow spider...at least, I was. Hard to call yourself that when you're coloured luminous pink, isn't it..?
Oh, so you DO laugh? Good, I was beginning to wonder
Anyway, like I said, spiders aren't exactly social, heart to heart creatures...
...
But by the Pit, I'm beyond caring. Look, just don't go blabbing to the Cybertronian Chronicle and I'll tell you without having to kill you, all right?
Right then.
It all comes down to romance...I suppose it always does in the end. You'll have heard of Silverbolt, I take it? Big, tall guy, long chin, purple, transforms into a condor? Yeah, the one with the supercilious expression on his face...trust me, he wasn't always like that. I wouldn't have looked twice at him if he'd always been an arrogant bas...er, idiot. You see, that's my lover, partner, boyfriend, whatever term you want to call it. Though as far as I'm concerned, "boyfriend" is way too tame a term to cover some of the things we got up to...
Trust me kid, you DON'T want to know. Like I said, repeat this to anyone and you will not live to see the next morning. Although I'm pretty sure the entire slaggin' planet knows we were involved to some degree.
Anyway...I guess you've also heard that Silverbolt was attacked, kidnapped and corrupted to create Jetstorm, right? If you don't, just accept the shorthand version, I don't really want to go into it. Time was, Silverbolt was the most adorable Transformer on Earth (not that there was a lot of competition, with so few of us on the planet). Wasn't a condor either. His stasis pod was pretty fried, so that mucked up his beast mode. He was a Fuzor, half wolf, half eagle, and even in robot mode he LOOKED it. Muzzle and all. You've heard of the expression "puppy dog eyes," haven't you? No real canine had anything on 'Bolt.
I was a Pred at the time. And Primus dammit, much as I tried to shoot him, hate him, maim him seriously in some way, I never managed. Got a few shots in, but he barely blinked. Kept going on about "inner Maximal goodness" until I wanted to choke him.
Yes, we ARE talking about the same Silverbolt, not two 'bots with the same name. That obnoxious creep with the snooty attitude was once my fluffy, adorable, thick-as-a-brick Bowser.
I'd always thought of myself as streetwise - been there, done that, got the scars to prove it. But I'd never learned that things change. There was one side, there's the other, jump between them if you like, Primus knows I did, but they stay the same.
Stupid, stupid, STUPID. I should have known that good things can't last, and bad things get worse.
As a Pred, I lived day to day, kept my wits about me and watched my own back, because no-one would watch it for me. I joined the Maximals, and I got complacent. Silverbolt was always there, always on the other side of the comm, always around when I needed - WANTED - him to be there. He was there even when I didn't need him. And I liked it. I liked HIM.
And then...if there's anything to learn from this, kid, it's "when things can't get any better, they get WORSE."
Damn I missed him. I couldn't even remember he even existed at first - stupid sounding, ain't it? That virus did a number on our memory circuits all right - but when I took my memory back, when I pieced together the puzzle....I didn't care about Megatron. Didn't care about Optimus raving on about the organic, didn't care about Cheetor being second in command, didn't care about Rattrap's problems. I'd lost my lover, and I wanted him back over and above any cause the others could give me.
Which was why, after several errors of judgement on my part (long story), I left Optimus and Cheetor to Megatron for a while - and I dealt with Jetstorm.
For once in this damn war, my plan worked. Jetstorm was Silverbolt again, not as I knew him but I didn't care. And...
He just...flew away.
He said my name. He recognized me. Then he told me to get back. Deserted me, just like that. I caught up with him, told him - well, told him to get over himself, basically, but I phrased it more sensitively than that. I can be nice when it suits me.
He threw a tantrum, to put it bluntly, and jumped on me...
Get your mind out of the gutter NOW.
We are NOT talking nights of passion here, we are talking actively, aggressively pouncing me, as if those condor talons or whatever you call them, were going to make spider sushi out of me.
I thought there'd been some mistake - did I have Silverbolt, or an angsty version of Jetstorm on my hands?
No such bloody luck. Had that been the case, I'd have knocked him over the head with something and tried again. But no, this was Silverbolt, angsty version.
What a slap in the face.
Y'see, I'd never wanted to fall in love with Silverbolt. But he managed to make me do just that, and he wasn't even trying. It's hard to explain...I knew he'd do anything for me. I could have used that to my advantage, I DID do that to some extent but...I couldn't bring myself to hurt him. Physically or emotionally, the worst I could do was minimal damage. Even when I insulted him, I didn't aim as low as usually did - I actually got ANGRY when anyone referred to him as "freak" or "mutant." He was MINE. No- one else had any right to put him down. Insert joke about Black Widow Spiders here.
...Never mind. I take it Earth Zoology wasn't your strongest subject?
So protectiveness breeds protectiveness. Nobody touched me for fear of Silverbolt's wrath. Anyone who laid a hand (pincer, claw, whatever) on Silverbolt answered to ME.
He doesn't want that any more. He doesn't want to protect me, he doesn't want to be protected BY me.
He doesn't want me.
What a slap in the face.
Thing is, kid, I know there's girls put up with worse. Boyfriends and husbands who treat them like dirt, or take them for granted. Men who keep them as trophy pieces and status symbols. Men who think that it's fine for them to go off and screw someone else while they're dating, but Primus help the woman who dares cheat on her boyfriend! Tell me, what's the male equivalent of a slut?
...Okay, yeah, you've got a point, getting sidetracked. What I'm saying is that there's females out there who put up with a hell of a lot more than I do, to the point of staying with "lovers" who are a real danger to them.
Compared to that, Silverbolt's still the model partner.
I'm just spoiled. I'm used to having him by my side, all the time. Used to him loving me and making it very clear that he loves me.
...Don't look at me like that, brat, there ARE people like that in existence. Good luck finding one though.
It's not just that though, it's...how do I put this? Silverbolt's changed. That much is obvious. But...is that IT? Is the contemptuous, arrogant condor all I get? Or is he still Silverbolt underneath, just scared and hurt?
I thought it was the second one...my knight in shining armour just needed a little polish, that's all. Over time, I was so SURE he'd get back to normal.
He didn't. We couldn't talk it over because he didn't talk to me. He didn't even come near me. How the slag do you a help a person who refuses to be helped? And...and do you have any right to change a person back to what you think is "normal," if he's fine the way he is?
It was like...like on some level he enjoyed being the angsty anti-hero. Just like he'd enjoyed being my Romeo. And that got me thinking - was everything a lie? Maybe the Silverbolt I'd loved was a fascade, and this was the real deal. Maybe he was always pretending, in the Beast Wars and in the present day. Maybe I was a fool.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. The more I think about it, the more wound up I get, and it's ten times worse when you know his room's just down the hall from yours.
So yeah, I ran away. I was sick of fighting. He doesn't want me, fine. I risked my shell to get him back, I risked my spark to help him get over what happened as Jetstorm. He didn't want it. He can go to the Pit for all I care.
________________________________________________
You watch in silence as she pauses to drink. You understand what she's saying...and you know it's all a lie. Well, her not caring, anyway. Why would she have run away if she didn't care?
You're not entirely sure who to feel worst for - how can you? You don't know them personally. You don't know if your new acquaintance is being paranoid, or if she's close to the truth. You can't tell if her boyfriend is actually a prat not worth her time, or whether something's gone so badly wrong even he himself doesn't know how to cope.
You get the feeling you should say something in accordance or reassurance. Not a single useful phrase comes to mind.
"Is he worth fighting for?"
It takes you a moment to realize you've spoken, and you promptly kick yourself mentally, positive your shoulders are going to be wondering where your head's gone in the near future.
To your surprise, you're still conscious within the next thirty seconds. She seems to consider this briefly, and turns back to you with that same sad smile.
"You've got a point, kid."
_________________________________________________
It's not like I can claim to have been the model girlfriend. I guess a lot of this has been because I OWE Silverbolt. He never gave up on me, so I figured I shouldn't give up on him.
But there's a point - and I think I've reached it - there's a point you're tired. You don't have the strength, you don't have the will and Primus forgive me, but you don't have the heart. You're stretched to your limit, and the person you love more than Cybertron itself doesn't give a damn, and you just think "Fine, slag you." It's survival. No animal in its right mind does something knowing its gonna fail. Even the most primitive lifeform in the galaxy wouldn't waste it's time and energy on a pointless mission like that. Keep it up long enough, you'll kill yourself with exhaustion before you're thirty.
I don't know if he's worth it. I thought he was.
Aw hell, of course he's worth it. Wouldn't have bothered otherwise.
But you tell me, junior - what do I do? Hope he'll come round? Keep at it until he's sick of the sight of me? Or stay here in the hope that someone comes after me?
...nah, not fair to ask you really. You don't have a clue. Be thankful for that.
I thought about starting over, actually. Y'know. Beast Wars are over, Technorganic wars are over, byebye, Bowser, it was fun while it lasted. Time to find someone new.
Couldn't do it. Didn't WANT to. That slaggin' idiot means too much to me. I'm telling ya, if I absolutely fail to get a date ever again, he's getting the therapy bill!
So, however you look at it, I lose. If he's intent on being a moron, doesn't hurt him half as much as it hurts me. HE doesn't care if he's gone from Lancelot to Mordred. (Earth history, kid, come on, keep up!) I do.
So consider this my petty revenge. If...if he's still...if he's still Silverbolt, there's still that Pred part of me that wants to hurt him. Like he's hurt me. Let him worry. Let HIM feel guilty for a change. 'Course, doesn't matter if he doesn't care.
And in the end, kid? I'll go home anyway...
_______________________________________________________
There's a commotion at the door, and the bouncers seem to trip over something.
"BLACKARACHNIA!"
The voice is young (and breaks in the middle...), so it's safe to assume it's not her angsty lover screeching at the top of his lungs. Instead, a fairly slender, adolescent Maximal collides with the female spider at high speed, sending the three of you sprawling. Once you recover from your daze, you see that he sports a bizarre hairstyle, and wings at his ankles.
To be honest, your first thought is "Erk."
"Nightscream?! What the slag are you..?"
"It's Silverbolt. He's not...well. He collapsed the other day and..."
...and that's about as much as you can make out before he begins talking at supersonic speed.
Even as she argues with the newcomer, Blackarachnia wavers. You can see the question she's asking herself - is this serious enough to warrant me going back? The Pred wars with the Maximal, you suppose, and it seems awfully convenient timing. Was that bat on cue cards? "Enter the bat-thing, stage left"?
She decides. She helps you to your feet (nice of her, you think, especially considering her abruptness), and smiles wryly.
"Well, isn't life weird?" Looks like the decision's been made for me." She looks straight at you. "Thanks kid. You've been a help."
For what? you wonder.
"Listening. Anyway, see ya round. And don't forget - not a word!"
With a wave and a wink, she's away, a puzzled Nightscream in tow.
Well, that was odd, you think. Two choices now. Go home, or hang around the bar looking nervous....Hel-lo, what's this? That cute Transformer over to your left seems to be looking at you. As you watch, they smile and wave you over.
You think about it. You look at the retreating female, and think about what she's told you.
Is it worth it?
Only one way to find out.