The organics weren't attacking.

Elita sat, numbly watching the spiders. She looked at her distorted arm. Everything in her was churning, bubbling. Squelching.

She couldn't stop ventilating. Rapidly.

Something was leaking out of her optics. She reached for it. She pulled away.

Her face too? Was nothing spared?

The liquid pooled and fell. The ventilating grew stronger, wracking her mutated form. She curled up.

It hurt. She felt her chassis tighten and shake with every gulp of air she sucked in.

Everything hurt. Her frame, her spark, her mind. It was all twisted, aching. Screaming.

Why was she still alone?