Part Five
Tarantulas looked up as the door to the old storage room that was his cell opened. "I'm still here," he said wearily. He hadn't been recharging well lately. With good reason...
"Just checking," Cheetor called back.
"Yeah, well, KEEP checking," he mumbled as the door closed again. Optimus Primal had been astonished and suspicious when Tarantulas had actually requested that someone check on him regularly. It was a good idea, though, so Primal had granted the request, even if he still didn't have any idea why Tarantulas WANTED to kept in the most secure place they could put him.
The spider paced across the floor nervously. It was becoming a habit, something to break the monotony of waiting. Waiting for Overdose to find him. She would, he knew. It was only a matter of time...
He started as the light overhead flickered, making the shadows move. Wonderful. Now he was jumping at shadows, and the light was going out. He watched it as it blinked on and off, getting dimmer each time. Tarantulas walked over to the door and knocked.
"What?" said Cheetor, his voice muffled by the door.
"The light's failing."
There was a wary pause, and then the door slowly opened again. Cheetor cautiously had his weapon drawn, but Tarantulas had been expecting that and was already backing away. The Maximal glanced at the dimming light and nodded.
"I'll see who can fix it," was all he said, and then he shut the door. The light died completely.
"Um, the light's out," Tarantulas mentioned.
"You'll have to live with it for now," Cheetor said through the door. "Rhinox is busy."
"Okay," Tarantulas sighed. "Having the lights out isn't that bad," he muttered to himself mockingly as his vision adjusted to the darkness. "At least this way I'm not jumping at shadows..." Something rustled as it moved, and the Predacon froze as two multicolored almond-shaped eyes appeared in front of him. He KNEW those eyes!
"And if you're not jumping at shadows after all?" whispered a familiar voice. "Aren't you afraid of the monsters that come out when it's dark?" The tilted eyes came closer to where Tarantulas stood in paralyzed terror. "Answer me," they demanded softly.
"Yes," he moaned. He was more than afraid of this particular monster, but...Cheetor was on the other side of the door behind him, along with the rest of the Maximals. All he had to do was shout for help! He opened his mouth to do exactly that...
...and a single finger rested itself against his mouth, stopping the yell. "Shhhh," the eyes crooned to him, and he whimpered. "None of that, now."
"What do you want, Overdose?" he said almost inaudibly, finally saying her name out loud.
The eyes tipped to one side as Overdose cocked her head. "Revenge, of course," she said in an almost conversational, if quiet, tone.
Tarantulas shivered. Of course. Drawing on the remains of his pride, he pulled his head away from her hand. "Why shouldn't I yell for help, then?" he asked boldly. "The worst you'd be able to do before the Maximals come to my defense would be to kill me quickly." That would be preferable to what she probably had planned for him.
"The worst? Oh, ye of little faith," she cooed, "I can do SO much more than just killing you." The white flash of her smile turned the bravado stiffening Tarantulas's back to gelatin. A gentle hand touched the side of his face, and he shrank away, only to gasp as the kind touch returned as a hard slap. Her voice took on a harsh note, anger stirring beneath its surface. "If you don't cooperate with me, I'll make sure your death with be slow and agonizing. Pain can linger for such a long time if you inflict it right."
Tarantulas cringed. "And if I cooperate?" he forced himself to say.
The smile returned, hate and rage showing in it. "I'll consider making your death more painless, or perhaps I'll just kill you sooner." Overdose's hand stroked down his face again, and he concentrated on not flinching away. The light fingers slid down to his neck, and the other hand joined it, holding something in its grip. Before Tarantulas realized what was happening, she had buckled the collar onto him. He brought his hands up to it automatically, but he couldn't find a release. The thing had molded to his neck like a new part of him.
"It's not like you really have a choice," the soft voice said, anger receding back into amused satisfaction. "You're coming with me whether you like it or not. See this remote?" Green lighted buttons in a regular pattern were displayed to him.
"Yes," he whispered, not understanding but afraid to.
"If you disobey me, I'll do this." One of the buttons disappeared as it was covered by a finger. There was a faint click.
Tarantulas collapsed to his knees as the collar activated, sending waves of pain through him. The pain paralyzed his voice, so that he could only shudder with agony. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain ended. A feeble whimper pushed out of him as he looked up at the eyes above him. He understood now why Rampage obeyed Megatron.
"Are you going to be a good boy?" Overdose said with a chuckle. Her laughter died when Tarantulas stayed silent, too weak to answer immediately. She reached down and gripped the wheels on his shoulders, lifting him until his face was level with hers. "I asked a question, Lieutenant," she snarled, still keeping her voice down, "and I expect answers when I ask questions."
The Predacon trembled in her grip. "I'll be good," he promised hopelessly. He almost collapsed again when Overdose dropped him, his legs barely able support him.
"You had better," she said grimly. "That was only the lowest setting on the remote." There was a noise from the other side of the door, and Overdose reached forward and dragged Tarantulas to her side as she flicked something on in her hand and threw it into the opposite corner. She pushed him up against the wall next to the door and flattened herself against him. "Silence," she breathed in his audios.
Cheetor opened the door to Tarantulas's make-shift cell. As the spider had said, the light had gone out.
"I'm still here," came the voice from in the darkness, and Cheetor nodded.
"Okay. Rhinox is going to be fixing that light soon." He didn't bother actually making sure he saw the Predacon. Where else could he be, except in this room? There wasn't any exit except the door he was looking through, and Tarantulas's voice was obviously still here. He wasn't going anywhere without it!
Cheetor laughed to himself at his joke as he leaned against the wall as the door closed. Guard duty was so boring...
What the cat hadn't noticed was that Tarantulas's reply was the same he had made last time. That wasn't surprising, but what would have been surprising was that the reply was the EXACT same. A recording, in fact. Rhinox would probably discover it as soon as he came into the room to fix the light, but Rhinox was going to busy for a long time while Bob wrecked merry havoc in the computer systems.
Overdose smiled to herself as she slowly drifted down the corridor, pressed to the wall with Tarantulas pinned between her and it. She had gotten out of the room the same way she had gotten in, by going through the door. Of course, Cheetor hadn't SEEN her going through the door, but that was because of her chameleon-like abilities. All she had needed was the space the Maximal left between himself and the opposite side of the door, and she had gotten out.
It had been difficult, yes. Impossible? Never! Her armor could create amazingly 3-D images, fooling anyone at any angle when they looked at her. If she only knew where she had gotten the ability...
* * * * *
I know.
Shut up. I don't really want to know if it involved you.
Oh, fine. Be that way. You should have killed the cat. He might discover Eightline's disappearance before we're gone.
His name is Tarantulas. And it doesn't matter if Cheetor does. They won't be able to find us.
Well, TARANTULAS's energy signature will register with the Maximal scanners if they look for it.
I'll deal with that if it happens. Besides, if Cheetor goes missing they'll notice pretty fast.
You have a point. By the way, can you use the highest setting for the collar next time? That was fun watching him.
Possibly. Question...
Go ahead.
Did you have all this stuff done to yourself voluntarily?
...some of it.
* * * * *
Overdose waited patiently by the blast doors. Someone would eventually open them, and if she had timed it right, that person would be Depth Charge. Yes, she could be patient until then. The destroyer inside her carefully kept her insane impulses in check, willing to do so if it brought their revenge into reach.
Huddled against the stone in front of her, Tarantulas was shaking with fear. Just across a lava river from them, Rattrap was talking with Silverbolt about cleaning the autoguns. Just that far away. All he would have to do was dodge to the side and scream for help, and they would see him and stop Overdose. He might be wounded, perhaps even die, but that was nothing compared to what she wanted to do to him. All he had to do was lean to one side as if he was just shifting his weight, and...
A hand caught his wrist as he lunged to the side, spinning him around inside her arms as her other hand clamped over his mouth and smothered his yelling. Rattrap and Silverbolt didn't even looked up from they're conversation.
"Bad boy," Overdose said mildly.
He cowered back against the wall when she released the hand over his mouth, but her other hand still crushed his wrist in its grip. Her free hand was suddenly holding a thin black remote with glowing green buttons, and a soft moan tore out of Tarantulas's throat. It was too late, though, and the pain ripped through him, stifling his voice with the pain as before. Overdose caught his other wrist and held him still as he helplessly quivered in agony.
* * * * *
Depth Charge cursed as he neared the Maximal base. "Open the blast doors!" he shouted.
Blackarachnia saw him coming from her position with the autoguns, and she radioed the people inside. Rattrap and Silverbolt hauled the doors apart as Depth Charge flew up, and he transformed as soon as he entered, running forward a couple more steps before stopping. He pivoted and looked at the two door-openers, who were staring at the obvious wound on his chest and battered head.
"Tell whoever's guarding Tarantulas to check on him NOW!" he ordered. "My radio's disabled!" Silverbolt shook off his surprise and immediately obeyed the command. Rattrap chased after the ray-bot as he half-ran towards the Ark.
"Eh, what's up, Captain Minnow?!" the rat panted.
Depth Charge didn't even bother to respond. Optimus met them at the remains of the Axalon's bridge.
"Tarantulas is missing," the Maximal leader said grimly. "We'll have to search--"
"Don't bother," the ray-bot said tiredly as he slumped down into a chair. "He's probably long gone."
"Ya can never trust a Pred," Rattrap sneered. "I KNEW we shouldn't ta let him inta da base!" He turned to where Rhinox had approached Depth Charge and was examining his mangled commlink. "How'dya know da Pred had escaped?"
"Do you know what Tarantulas was after?" Optimus asked urgently.
Depth Charge shook his head, wincing as the motion caused the room to spin. "I don't think he was after anything," he said heavily. "I believe he surrendered to us in hopes of getting protection."
"Megatron was after him?" Optimus asked blankly. "Why would that bother him?"
"Not Megatron. Overdose. And I'm pretty sure Tarantulas did NOT leave with her of his own free will."
* * * * *
Overdose finished binding Tarantulas's wrists together and stood back up. The bound Predacon whimpered and inched himself backwards using his tied feet as she smiled down at him. Still smiling, she turned and went to the entrance of the small cave. She looked back at her prisoner from there.
"I'll deal with you in a little while," she purred. Tarantulas recoiled from her delighted face, and she laughed. "Bob, shield the room."
The crazy femme reclined in her chair, thinking over the events of the day. A compromise suggested, memories revealed, battles fought mentally, violence in the outer world, revenge in her grasp. A good day? Perhaps.
But her revenge may actually be made useful to her earlier idea...
* * * * *
Why do you not torture him?
I may have another use for him.
No! I want to see his pain!
It's still torture...just of a different sort, I suppose. Psychological more than physical.
But what about our deal?
I told you I might not be able to fulfill it.
Then why should I-
Oh, very well.
Why are you so reluctant? You've tortured hundreds and enjoyed their pain, why hesitate now?
Perhaps I've seen enough anguish today in my memories.
Ah, I see. The ghosts of the past haunt you.
I guess you could put it that way.
Let the dead lie, Overdose, and put this ghost to rest. Complete our revenge.
There has been too much pain today.
So?
So, tomorrow is a new day.
Tarantulas looked up as the door to the old storage room that was his cell opened. "I'm still here," he said wearily. He hadn't been recharging well lately. With good reason...
"Just checking," Cheetor called back.
"Yeah, well, KEEP checking," he mumbled as the door closed again. Optimus Primal had been astonished and suspicious when Tarantulas had actually requested that someone check on him regularly. It was a good idea, though, so Primal had granted the request, even if he still didn't have any idea why Tarantulas WANTED to kept in the most secure place they could put him.
The spider paced across the floor nervously. It was becoming a habit, something to break the monotony of waiting. Waiting for Overdose to find him. She would, he knew. It was only a matter of time...
He started as the light overhead flickered, making the shadows move. Wonderful. Now he was jumping at shadows, and the light was going out. He watched it as it blinked on and off, getting dimmer each time. Tarantulas walked over to the door and knocked.
"What?" said Cheetor, his voice muffled by the door.
"The light's failing."
There was a wary pause, and then the door slowly opened again. Cheetor cautiously had his weapon drawn, but Tarantulas had been expecting that and was already backing away. The Maximal glanced at the dimming light and nodded.
"I'll see who can fix it," was all he said, and then he shut the door. The light died completely.
"Um, the light's out," Tarantulas mentioned.
"You'll have to live with it for now," Cheetor said through the door. "Rhinox is busy."
"Okay," Tarantulas sighed. "Having the lights out isn't that bad," he muttered to himself mockingly as his vision adjusted to the darkness. "At least this way I'm not jumping at shadows..." Something rustled as it moved, and the Predacon froze as two multicolored almond-shaped eyes appeared in front of him. He KNEW those eyes!
"And if you're not jumping at shadows after all?" whispered a familiar voice. "Aren't you afraid of the monsters that come out when it's dark?" The tilted eyes came closer to where Tarantulas stood in paralyzed terror. "Answer me," they demanded softly.
"Yes," he moaned. He was more than afraid of this particular monster, but...Cheetor was on the other side of the door behind him, along with the rest of the Maximals. All he had to do was shout for help! He opened his mouth to do exactly that...
...and a single finger rested itself against his mouth, stopping the yell. "Shhhh," the eyes crooned to him, and he whimpered. "None of that, now."
"What do you want, Overdose?" he said almost inaudibly, finally saying her name out loud.
The eyes tipped to one side as Overdose cocked her head. "Revenge, of course," she said in an almost conversational, if quiet, tone.
Tarantulas shivered. Of course. Drawing on the remains of his pride, he pulled his head away from her hand. "Why shouldn't I yell for help, then?" he asked boldly. "The worst you'd be able to do before the Maximals come to my defense would be to kill me quickly." That would be preferable to what she probably had planned for him.
"The worst? Oh, ye of little faith," she cooed, "I can do SO much more than just killing you." The white flash of her smile turned the bravado stiffening Tarantulas's back to gelatin. A gentle hand touched the side of his face, and he shrank away, only to gasp as the kind touch returned as a hard slap. Her voice took on a harsh note, anger stirring beneath its surface. "If you don't cooperate with me, I'll make sure your death with be slow and agonizing. Pain can linger for such a long time if you inflict it right."
Tarantulas cringed. "And if I cooperate?" he forced himself to say.
The smile returned, hate and rage showing in it. "I'll consider making your death more painless, or perhaps I'll just kill you sooner." Overdose's hand stroked down his face again, and he concentrated on not flinching away. The light fingers slid down to his neck, and the other hand joined it, holding something in its grip. Before Tarantulas realized what was happening, she had buckled the collar onto him. He brought his hands up to it automatically, but he couldn't find a release. The thing had molded to his neck like a new part of him.
"It's not like you really have a choice," the soft voice said, anger receding back into amused satisfaction. "You're coming with me whether you like it or not. See this remote?" Green lighted buttons in a regular pattern were displayed to him.
"Yes," he whispered, not understanding but afraid to.
"If you disobey me, I'll do this." One of the buttons disappeared as it was covered by a finger. There was a faint click.
Tarantulas collapsed to his knees as the collar activated, sending waves of pain through him. The pain paralyzed his voice, so that he could only shudder with agony. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain ended. A feeble whimper pushed out of him as he looked up at the eyes above him. He understood now why Rampage obeyed Megatron.
"Are you going to be a good boy?" Overdose said with a chuckle. Her laughter died when Tarantulas stayed silent, too weak to answer immediately. She reached down and gripped the wheels on his shoulders, lifting him until his face was level with hers. "I asked a question, Lieutenant," she snarled, still keeping her voice down, "and I expect answers when I ask questions."
The Predacon trembled in her grip. "I'll be good," he promised hopelessly. He almost collapsed again when Overdose dropped him, his legs barely able support him.
"You had better," she said grimly. "That was only the lowest setting on the remote." There was a noise from the other side of the door, and Overdose reached forward and dragged Tarantulas to her side as she flicked something on in her hand and threw it into the opposite corner. She pushed him up against the wall next to the door and flattened herself against him. "Silence," she breathed in his audios.
Cheetor opened the door to Tarantulas's make-shift cell. As the spider had said, the light had gone out.
"I'm still here," came the voice from in the darkness, and Cheetor nodded.
"Okay. Rhinox is going to be fixing that light soon." He didn't bother actually making sure he saw the Predacon. Where else could he be, except in this room? There wasn't any exit except the door he was looking through, and Tarantulas's voice was obviously still here. He wasn't going anywhere without it!
Cheetor laughed to himself at his joke as he leaned against the wall as the door closed. Guard duty was so boring...
What the cat hadn't noticed was that Tarantulas's reply was the same he had made last time. That wasn't surprising, but what would have been surprising was that the reply was the EXACT same. A recording, in fact. Rhinox would probably discover it as soon as he came into the room to fix the light, but Rhinox was going to busy for a long time while Bob wrecked merry havoc in the computer systems.
Overdose smiled to herself as she slowly drifted down the corridor, pressed to the wall with Tarantulas pinned between her and it. She had gotten out of the room the same way she had gotten in, by going through the door. Of course, Cheetor hadn't SEEN her going through the door, but that was because of her chameleon-like abilities. All she had needed was the space the Maximal left between himself and the opposite side of the door, and she had gotten out.
It had been difficult, yes. Impossible? Never! Her armor could create amazingly 3-D images, fooling anyone at any angle when they looked at her. If she only knew where she had gotten the ability...
* * * * *
I know.
Shut up. I don't really want to know if it involved you.
Oh, fine. Be that way. You should have killed the cat. He might discover Eightline's disappearance before we're gone.
His name is Tarantulas. And it doesn't matter if Cheetor does. They won't be able to find us.
Well, TARANTULAS's energy signature will register with the Maximal scanners if they look for it.
I'll deal with that if it happens. Besides, if Cheetor goes missing they'll notice pretty fast.
You have a point. By the way, can you use the highest setting for the collar next time? That was fun watching him.
Possibly. Question...
Go ahead.
Did you have all this stuff done to yourself voluntarily?
...some of it.
* * * * *
Overdose waited patiently by the blast doors. Someone would eventually open them, and if she had timed it right, that person would be Depth Charge. Yes, she could be patient until then. The destroyer inside her carefully kept her insane impulses in check, willing to do so if it brought their revenge into reach.
Huddled against the stone in front of her, Tarantulas was shaking with fear. Just across a lava river from them, Rattrap was talking with Silverbolt about cleaning the autoguns. Just that far away. All he would have to do was dodge to the side and scream for help, and they would see him and stop Overdose. He might be wounded, perhaps even die, but that was nothing compared to what she wanted to do to him. All he had to do was lean to one side as if he was just shifting his weight, and...
A hand caught his wrist as he lunged to the side, spinning him around inside her arms as her other hand clamped over his mouth and smothered his yelling. Rattrap and Silverbolt didn't even looked up from they're conversation.
"Bad boy," Overdose said mildly.
He cowered back against the wall when she released the hand over his mouth, but her other hand still crushed his wrist in its grip. Her free hand was suddenly holding a thin black remote with glowing green buttons, and a soft moan tore out of Tarantulas's throat. It was too late, though, and the pain ripped through him, stifling his voice with the pain as before. Overdose caught his other wrist and held him still as he helplessly quivered in agony.
* * * * *
Depth Charge cursed as he neared the Maximal base. "Open the blast doors!" he shouted.
Blackarachnia saw him coming from her position with the autoguns, and she radioed the people inside. Rattrap and Silverbolt hauled the doors apart as Depth Charge flew up, and he transformed as soon as he entered, running forward a couple more steps before stopping. He pivoted and looked at the two door-openers, who were staring at the obvious wound on his chest and battered head.
"Tell whoever's guarding Tarantulas to check on him NOW!" he ordered. "My radio's disabled!" Silverbolt shook off his surprise and immediately obeyed the command. Rattrap chased after the ray-bot as he half-ran towards the Ark.
"Eh, what's up, Captain Minnow?!" the rat panted.
Depth Charge didn't even bother to respond. Optimus met them at the remains of the Axalon's bridge.
"Tarantulas is missing," the Maximal leader said grimly. "We'll have to search--"
"Don't bother," the ray-bot said tiredly as he slumped down into a chair. "He's probably long gone."
"Ya can never trust a Pred," Rattrap sneered. "I KNEW we shouldn't ta let him inta da base!" He turned to where Rhinox had approached Depth Charge and was examining his mangled commlink. "How'dya know da Pred had escaped?"
"Do you know what Tarantulas was after?" Optimus asked urgently.
Depth Charge shook his head, wincing as the motion caused the room to spin. "I don't think he was after anything," he said heavily. "I believe he surrendered to us in hopes of getting protection."
"Megatron was after him?" Optimus asked blankly. "Why would that bother him?"
"Not Megatron. Overdose. And I'm pretty sure Tarantulas did NOT leave with her of his own free will."
* * * * *
Overdose finished binding Tarantulas's wrists together and stood back up. The bound Predacon whimpered and inched himself backwards using his tied feet as she smiled down at him. Still smiling, she turned and went to the entrance of the small cave. She looked back at her prisoner from there.
"I'll deal with you in a little while," she purred. Tarantulas recoiled from her delighted face, and she laughed. "Bob, shield the room."
The crazy femme reclined in her chair, thinking over the events of the day. A compromise suggested, memories revealed, battles fought mentally, violence in the outer world, revenge in her grasp. A good day? Perhaps.
But her revenge may actually be made useful to her earlier idea...
* * * * *
Why do you not torture him?
I may have another use for him.
No! I want to see his pain!
It's still torture...just of a different sort, I suppose. Psychological more than physical.
But what about our deal?
I told you I might not be able to fulfill it.
Then why should I-
Oh, very well.
Why are you so reluctant? You've tortured hundreds and enjoyed their pain, why hesitate now?
Perhaps I've seen enough anguish today in my memories.
Ah, I see. The ghosts of the past haunt you.
I guess you could put it that way.
Let the dead lie, Overdose, and put this ghost to rest. Complete our revenge.
There has been too much pain today.
So?
So, tomorrow is a new day.