Transforming Arcee

by Pandora1119

Summary:

Arcee wakes up in Omega Supreme's medical bay being tended to by Ratchet and Sari. The Autobots are making their way home with Megatron and his top Decepticons under arrest.

They try to help the intel bot recover from millions of stellar cycles of stasis and mistreatment, but some pains are not so easily healed.

Notes:

My favorite transformer is Arcee and my favorite series is Transformers Animated. This is my post season three fic that combines some of the IDW Arcee's origins with Animated Arcee.

The biggest difference from how the show canonically played is that Arcee currently identifies as a mech and is a light blue color instead of pink.

Edit: Hello everyone! As of 22/06/2022, I have begun a more extensive editing process on all parts of Heralds of Chaos. While my more recent material will remain relative unchanged, I'm performing some extensive rewrites to the older ones.

My goal is to bring them up to date with my style and vision for the story. When I started, I had much of the overall story planned out, but I was new to writing. I've learned a lot since then though.

If you're a returning reader, you can expect most of the dialogue and story beats to remain the same. But much of the non-verbal material is being/been rewritten. And if you're coming here for the first time, welcome! Thank you so much for taking the time to check out my story.

Edit 2: Done! If you read it in its original state, let me know how you like the new stuff. Ended up adding like +6000, but I like how it turned out.

Chapter 1: Diagnostics

Teaching Unit RC-687-040

External Boot Up Order Received Authorization: Medical Officer Ratchet

Core Processor Status: Online

Commencing Systems Check

Logic Processor: Green

Meta Processor: Yellow

Core Programming: Corrupted

Synchronizing Memory Core: Error

Synchronizing Memory Core: Error

Synchr2983rfjd29fkcmcvv

Synchronizing Memory Core: Complete

Running Sensory Systems Test

Equilibrium Sensors Online

Auditory Sensors Online

 

“...an you hear me?” 

 

“According to the readout, he should be able to hear you.”

 

“Thanks, kid.”

 

Optical Sensors Online

 

The blackness faded into static. Light ate through the fuzz until an overly bright room began to come into focus.

 

“Alright Arcee, keep going. Almost got you fixed up.” Said Ratchet while shining a soft light directly into each of the drowsy his sore optics, forcing them to readjust to the appropriate filters. 

 

The brightness of the medical bay became less overwhelming and finally allowing him to make out the medic’s grizzled features. 

 

Vitals: Green

 

I forgot how tired he looks now. When Arcee had first met Ratchet, he had tried to save him from that disgusting bounty hunter. Did he get all that damage in the war? 

 

Energon Reserves: 93%

 

Apparently that had been over 4 million stellar cycles ago. 

 

Combat Systems: Offline

 

The light blue plated intel bot had barely been brought back online when they had to escape Omega Supreme. His systems must not have been totally operational because he didn’t remember much besides Ratchet and the orange and yellow techno organic who called herself Sari.

 

Initiating Mobility Test

 

Arcee could feel the plates and joints across his body shift and flex. That's when he started to feel it again. 

 

The wrongness. 

 

Like parts of his frame weren’t connecting correctly. Something about his core programming felt tampered with. As if there was code that was not where it was supposed to be. 

 

“Hey, Ratchet? I’m getting some weird readings from him.” Sari said from her position by the computer. 

 

“Hm? Let me look.” Arcee watched the medic approach the diagnostic device and study it carefully as while mumbling to himself. “Meta Processor: Yellow… Core programming corruption… Arcee, how do you feel?”

 

At first nothing but static came out when he tried to speak. After taking a moment to recalibrate his vocal systems, he managed to form coherent sentences.

 

“Ugh, tired and sore, but otherwise I feel fine, doc… I guess.” He'd had been through this all before and didn’t think there was any point in doing it again. Arcee had always felt this way. None of the Autobot doctors could ever quite pinpoint what the exact problem was.

 

“Tell me,” Ratchet said as he returned to the medical birth and scanned his patient again, “Do you feel any disconnect with yourself?”

 

What?

 

“How… did you know that?” Arcee looked up at the battered helm of his friend with shock written on his features.

 

“The next time I ask you if something feels wrong you better tell me, got it soldier?” He said while flicking the front of Arcee's helm. “I might have an idea, but I need to do some research before I-”

 

The chiming of Ratchet’s communicator interrupted him.

 

“Whatchya need Prime?” He grumped over the comm, “I’m still working with Arcee.”

 

“Sorry to intrude, but we need you up here before we begin our approach.” The Prime’s voice was carefully in a way typical of high ranking officers.

 

That must be… Optimus? Arcee couldn’t remember if he'd met the rest of Omega’s crew, but their profiles and records of their missions on Earth had been uploaded to his Memory Core. 

 

“Hey kid, keep an eye on him while I go see what the young bots need.” Before Ratchet left, he turned to him again, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”

 

After he left through the medical bay doors, Arcee slowly vented to calm the churning emotions in his processor. Feeling tired, he merely continued to stare at the orange plating on the ceiling until he heard the tapping of light pedes on metal.

 

Sari pulled herself up onto the berth before climbing up onto his chestplate. She sat down, crossing her stabilizing servos and carefully studied him with narrowed optics.

 

What… is she doing? Arcee had never seen anyone quite like her. 

 

While he wasn’t a big cybertronian per se, this techno organic was probably about half his height and quite slim. Her slim frame was made from a mix of orange and yellow plates and fabric. Soft brown mesh covered her face and digits. Where most bots would have a helm, she had thick red filaments tied into two tufts above her fleshy audio sensors. Her optics were even stranger. They looked like organic orbs with pupils that glowed a blue very similar to his own.

 

According to her profile, Sari was a human-Cybertronian hybrid of unknown origin. Unlike most of their kind, Arcee actually had some previous experience with organics. During the war, he had infiltrated several organic worlds. But she was utterly unique, even compared to the database of other humans Ratchet’s team had interacted with.

 

Fascinating.

 

“Soooo… We didn’t really get a chance to introduce ourselves with all the chaos. I’m Sari.” 

 

“Yes, I read your file.” He said, unsure of what the mini-bot was really after, “Um… I’m Arcee. Was that all you needed?”

 

“Heh, right to the point I see.” Sari idly scratched her digits through her red hair, “I wanted to ask you some things about yourself. If that’s ok with you of course…”

 

Hmm… why is she so curious about me? It’s not like I’m very interesting…  

 

“Okay, I guess.” He responded evenly, interest slightly peaked.

 

“Ratchet said you felt a disconnect with yourself. The diagnostic showed some problems with your Meta processor and Core programming… what does it feel like?” She asked with wide optics and her mouth pressed in a thin line.

 

“Uh… no one's ever asked me that before.” Arcee admitted. “I guess it feels like my body has never been right.”

 

“Never?”

 

“Yes... Since my earliest memories. Why do you ask?” 

 

“Well… I know Cybertronians aren’t like organics, so I’m not sure if my idea is correct. But…” She paused and looked away, twiddling her digits.

 

“But?” Arcee pressed, curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“On Earth, when someone feels like they weren’t born in the right body, we call it dysphoria. But it usually has to do with gender. So I’m not sure if it's the same. Cybertronian’s concepts of gender are pretty confusing.”

 

Something clicked in Arcee’s head. Immediately he began to process all information he could find in Earth’s database about dysphoria and gender. 

 

“Hey, you ok?”

 

“Yes, I was just learning about what you told me from the human’s internet.” Arcee explained. “It looks like there are some similarities between their concepts of gender and ours, with some slight differences.”

 

“Ooooh, really? Like what?” Sari asked eagerly. Her attitude and probing questions reminded him so much of the young bots he used to teach, that he automatically switched to teaching mode. 

 

Arcee began to shift and sit up, joints creaking as he moved for the first time since waking up. As he pulled his stabilizing servos beneath him, Sari climbed off and sat on the opposite side of the berth so they could face each other. 

 

“Well, organics generally link their concepts of gender to their sex at birth. Usually this comes from their need to reproduce via mating.” While he elaborated, Sari’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed oddly, “But Cybertronians do not reproduce this way. So for us, gender is entirely linked to our morphology and identity. Understand so far?” 

 

She nodded her head vigorously while maintaining rapt attention.

 

“As we adapt our forms to blend in with life on other planets, so did ancient Cybertronians adapt their concepts of gender to match our forms or personalities.” He began to feel an uncomfortable ache in his spark while speaking, but forged on, excited to teach her inquiring mind, “Most of us use the pronouns of he/him for mechs or she/her for femmes. As you may have noticed, femmes are relatively rare among our people. But even less common are bots who don't feel right being acknowledged as either mechs or femmes. So you could use the human terms for non-men or non-women for them.”

 

“Cooool…” Sari cooed enthusiastically. “You’re right! We are weirdly similar with gender. So… you’re a mech?” 

 

“Yes, that's corr-”

 

But the words coming out of his mouth turned to static before finishing the sentence. A deep, aching pain fluttered in his spark as he processed the question and attempted to answer. 

 

“Arcee…” Sari’s optics seemed to droop as she reached up with a tiny servo and placed it gently on his cheek. “I think you might be what humans call transgender.”

 

For some reason, his processor was stuttering and the frequency of his vents increased in speed as it tried to cool down his rapidly overheating internals. 

 

“W-wh… what does… that mean…” He finally managed to force out. 

 

Why do I feel so heavy?  

 

“When a human is born, they are usually called a boy or girl based on their birth sex…” Sari explained with obvious melancholy in her field, “But people don’t consider how the baby will feel later when they learn who they are. It’s a little hard to explain… but sometimes a person is told they’re a girl, but they feel like a boy. Or someone who’s born a boy actually feels like a girl. Sometimes a person won’t feel exactly like either one and want to be called something different entirely, kind of like how Cybertronians do.”

 

Pieces of information fell into place inside Arcee’s Core processor as Sari spoke. But he was having trouble sorting through it all. It felt like he was malfunctioning.

 

“So I was thinking… maybe the problem is that you’re not actually a mech, but you were forged like one.”

 

“I-I-I-I-...”

 

Something was wrong with hi138kdjcnvm938-

 

“Uh… Arcee? You ok- Oh scrap!” 

 

One by one his systems started to shut down before everything went black.

 

Emergency Stasis Locked Activated

Chapter 2: Questions Without Answers

Summary:

Arcee reawakens to Sari and Ratchet's unified front.

Notes:

Ok, before you read this chapter I want to make a couple thing clear. I have written how I am interpreting where dysphoria comes from in regards to who this character is and where she comes from in the lore and my head. Disregarding my own knowledge of biology and behavior, I am not an expert in treating or understanding dysphoria or transness as a whole. I'm using my own experience as a trans woman to describe and approach what it is like for this story alone.

Also, it was really hard trying to come up with a way a cybertronian could experience realizing they were trans and proceeding with transition. So I hope you like it. And if not, that's ok too.

Manual Deactivation of Stasis Lock Initiated

Systems Status: Green

 

Arcee’s optics flickered back on. 

 

“There you go, old friend.” Ratchet said above him, waving a scanner back and forth. “Nice and easy now.” 

 

Sitting up on the berth, he tried to regain his bearings. He remembered the conversation with Sari, but he has no idea why he passed out suddenly. Acree’s processor throbbed with pain, but otherwise he felt alright.

 

“What happened?” He asked, rubbing the back of his helm in an attempt to soothe the aches. Sari leapt up onto the end of the berth and began to talk extremely fast.

 

“ArceeI’msosorryIdidn’tmeantofreakyououtpleaseforgiveme!” The techno-organic furiously wrung her servos together as clear liquid leaked from her optics. 

 

“Will you calm down, kid!” Ratchet snapped, causing her to flinch. The medic sighed loudly, realizing how that came out. “Just… tell ‘em what we talked about.” 

 

“What… is it, Sari?” Arcee asked tentatively. He still didn’t know exactly what happened to him, but it seems like the two of them might. 

 

Sari drew in a steadying vent as her slender body quivered slightly.

 

“W-we know what’s wrong with you.” she said, exuding unease, “It’s like what we talked about, but the news isn’t… great.”

 

“G-go on…” Arcee forced out through gritted teeth, clenching his servos in anticipation.

 

“You're experiencing dysphoria because your core programming is incompatible with your meta processor. From what we could find, you should have been forged a femme. But you were also raised as a mech, and that affected the way your meta processor developed.” She explains solemnly, “I’m… I’m so sorry Arcee.”

 

Arcee felt nothing but numbness after hearing their conclusion. But the turmoil radiating from Sari’s field and the liquid leaking from her eyes activated his nurturing programming. He… they? her? reached for the small girl with shaky servos and pulled her into a gentle embrace.

 

“I really wish there was an easier way to say this, Arcee, but…” Ratchet hesitated, mouth hanging open like the words wouldn’t come out.

 

“Just tell me… please. ” he pleaded.

 

“You were in a comatose state for 4 million stellar cycles with little to no processor activity.” He explained, voice laced with frustration, “And Shockwave basically took your Core Processor apart in his... experimentation. Combined with degradation from your dysphoria…”

 

“Your condition could get worse.” Sari said, sniffling from her spot in their arms. She still had her face pressed against their chestplate, unable to look them in the optics.

 

“What do I do now, doc?” Arcee asked, vocalizer devoid of emotion. Right now, they felt more lost than when they woke up in Decepticon captivity. 

 

“I… I’m not sure.” Ratchet answered glumly as his shoulders sagged. “There’s been a few cases of this happening before. But they were all treated early on in their development.”

 

“But… can’t we treat Arcee like they were? Why wouldn’t that work?” Sari queried. Her warm field was still in turmoil, but there was a strong foundation of optimism underneath it all still. 

 

Looking up to their friend, they waited expectantly as he tapped his chin, deep in thought.

 

“Well, it could work. But it's gonna take some time to come up with something that won’t do more damage.” Ratchet answered. “But I won’t stop until I find a treatment. We brought you back before, so this should be a piece of cake compared to that.” 

 

“Right!” Sari yelled before bouncing out of Arcee’s arms to stand with her hands on her hips, “We’d never let you down.” 

 

Arcee felt so many things at this moment. The pain of their dysphoria. Brand new aches in the seams of their head where Shockwave had dissected them. The feeling of being so far out of place compared to those around them. But here, basking in the comforting fields of their friends, things felt just a little bit better.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Omega Supreme entered the atmosphere of Cybertron, heading straight for the Metroplex where the Autobots would deliver the Decepticons directly to the High Council.

 

The massive transformer lowered himself onto the promenade and extended his landing gear. Hundreds of Cybertronians waited on either side of the promenade road to the High Council chamber, waiting to see their heroes arrive with their villains in chains.

 

Wedged in the hollow left by one of Omega Supreme’s landing struts was a small, silky bulb. A razor sharp gold leg pierced through the webbing. Slowly, it carved its way down until it fell open. In the shadows beneath the ship, four glowing red eyes lit upon Cybertron.

Notes:

Well there you have it. I hope that wasn't too hard of a read. But we also get the first appearance of our fourth major character. Speculation about her role in the story is encouraged. I already know what it is, I just wanna know what ya'll think it might be.

Chapter 3: New Beginnings

Summary:

The Autobots are welcomed home after far too long.

Notes:

I decided to stick with neutral pronouns for Arcee for the moment. Other than that, I made Arcee be present with the team when they disembark cause it felt appropriate.

As Omega Supreme’s bay doors began to slide open, Arcee did their best not to fidget. But there was no stopping the anxiety from leaking into their field knowing that Megatron and his lieutenants were standing right behind them. 

 

Even though they were cuffed and muzzled, animosity radiated from each of the Decepticons that towered over them and the other Autobots. The only thing keeping their nerves in check, was the comforting warmth of Sari’s field as she hovered nearby with the power of her jetpack. 

 

As the familiar gas and lightning filled skies of their home planet were revealed, the cheering of the waiting crowd flooded in. On their other side stood Optimus Prime, standing at attention with the Magnus Hammer in hand and his face plates set with resolve. On his left, Bulkhead, Ratchet, Bumblebee and Jazz cradled the pod that held the sparkless frame of Prowl. 

 

Contrary to the enthusiastic crowd, each of them wore grim expressions. Their fields pulsed with conflict and grief as they looked upon their homeworld, hesitating to take the first steps off the ship. 

 

“Autobots, roll out.” Optimus ordered before he marched down the ramp and the rest followed. As they all set foot on the promenade, Autobot guards stepped up behind them to ensure the Decepticons kept moving. 

 

Arcee heard the loud sounds of gears and plates grinding as Omega Supreme transformed and stood tall over those he gave his life to protect time and again.

 

“I am... Omega Supreme!” His booming voice reverberated across the promenade, bringing no small comfort to his would be teacher.

 

Bots, mechs and femmes of all shapes and sizes had come out to greet them. Being the center of attention wasn’t something Arcee enjoyed, but returning home like this was still a small comfort.

 

I’m online. The war is over. I have friends again. And just maybe… I have a chance at feeling complete for the first time in my whole life. A giddy feeling flooded their systems, giving Arcee a light bounce to their step.

 

But a cold chill like coolant leaking under their plates replaced it with dread in an instant.

 

Someone was watching them. 

 

Not the crowd. Not any of the Autobots or Decepticons around them. Somehow, Arcee could feel the fluctuations from a field that dripped with malice, but they couldn’t find the source no matter which way they looked.

 

“You ok, Arcee?” Sari asked beside them, startling them out their paranoia distraction. The team had decided it would be better for her to lay low, so she wore her retractable helmet over her human skin.

 

“I’m… not sure.” They responded, idly rubbing their head as it ached. The unsettling feeling was gone as fast as it had come, “Probably just tired.” 

 

The procession of Autobots and Decepticons neared the staircase that led up to the council chamber. Sentinel Magnus waited at the bottom, grimacing noticeably. Sari had told them all about how much trouble the blowhard had given the team. While they didn’t share the satisfaction Sari and the rest held after one upping him with Megatron's defeat, Arcee could tell he was appropriately rankled.

 

“Welcome back to Cybertron Optimus Prime. Your service to Autobots everywhere is truly an inspiration to us all.” Sentinel said in a tone filled with insincerity.

 

“Thank you, Sentinel. Your kind words warm my spark.” Optimus said snidely. 

 

“I’m sure they'll help you recharge comfortably, old friend .” The Magnus retorted.

 

“Why of course. I rest like a sparkling in their first berth.” The Prime agreed.

 

Arcee leans towards Sari as they continued to trade snarky platitudes.

 

“Are they always like this?”

 

“Pretty much.” Sari confirmed with audible resignation. 

 

Mechs, I swear. They had never understood the posturing and overconfidence most other mechs routinely displayed. Knowing now that they were never a mech, it made a bit more sense why that was. 

 

“Anywayyyy,” Jazz smoothly interjected before Optimus and Sentinel came to blows, “We shouldn’t keep the council on ice any longer, right Sentinel?” The Autobot leader blinked at his subordinate owlishly for a moment.

 

“Uh… yes of course!” He agreed while assuming his previous haughty demeanor, “Stop wasting our time, Optimus. Follow me.”

 

Yeesh. Nevermind, even a stiff bot like Optimus is preferable to him.  

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Jazz brought the team into a comfortable waiting room while Optimus and Sentinel had gone to meet the Council with the Decepticons.

 

Arcee had curled up on a comfortable couch in the corner by themselves. So many bots staring at them had been overwhelming and they were eager to relax. They sat there processing the mountain of information that had been dumped on them since reawakening.

 

4 million stellar cycles of lost time weighed heavily on their processor. The death toll from the war was particularly hard to bear. Most of the young bots they had taught before joining the Autobots were offlined in battle long ago. Everyone they knew was gone. Even with the support of their new friends, it felt profoundly lonely.

 

Sari plopped herself down beside them with a tired sigh. She closed her optics and lay back against the soft cushion. 

 

“Soooo what's up?” She asked, from her reclined position. 

 

“Oh, nothing really. Just processing.” They responded while idly rubbing circles into the palm of their servo with a single digit. 

 

“I have something I'd like to ask you.” Sari said as she sat up and fixed her blue optics on them, “But, if you can’t answer it yet, that’s ok.”

 

“Alright… What do you want to ask?” Arcee queried with only a little nervousness leaking into their voice.

 

“Have you figured out what pronouns you want to use?” She asked evenly, but the anticipation in her field was obvious. 

 

“I-I think so… but I don’t know if I should.” They answered, tapping the points of two digits together.

 

“Why not?” She asked and tilted her head quizzically.

 

“Well… I wasn’t sure if I’d be allowed to do it before I get fixed up…”

 

“That’s ridiculous!” Sari leapt onto her pedes to get on her optic level, “What matters is how you feel! If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they’ll have to answer to us!”

 

The hybrid puffed up her chest and dawned a tough expression.

 

What a cutie! The adorably supportive little femme gave them just enough inspiration to say what she wanted.

 

“I know what pronouns I want.” They said, smiling down at her.

 

“Yay! You wanna tell me?”

 

It continued to astound Arcee the maturity such a young bot displayed. Her lifetime was a blip compared to almost every other Cybertronian, and yet she spoke and acted with immeasurable wisdom. 

 

That's probably why talking to her is so easy…  

 

“I want to use she and her.” She elaborated evenly, trying to push down the anxiety, “I want to be a femme.”

 

Sari’s mouth widened into an ecstatic grin as she leapt up and looped her arms around Arcee’s neck, squealing with excitement.

 

“Yesssss! Girl power!” Her unusal field radiated positivity. Combined with the growing affection she held for the girl. Arcee giggled happily in a way that hadn't done in millions of stellar-cycles.

 

“What are you two cats up to over there?” Jazz asked as he walked up to them. Curiosity brought the other members of Team Prime along with him. 

 

“Ooh ooh ooh! Arcee can I tell them please please please let me tell them!” The words tumbled from her mouth in a concentrated stream. 

 

“Oh, uh…” Embarrassment filled Arcee’s processor at the thought of announcing such a thing herself. Ratchet had informed Prime and the others of her condition, but she hadn’t had a chance to even have a normal conversation with most of them yet.

 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to rely on the techno-organic for this.

 

“Okay Sari, go ahead.” She relented while giving her a nervous smile.

 

“I would like to inform you all…” Sari began with faux formality before she started bouncing with glee, “That Arcee is a femme!”

 

“Atta girl,” Ratchet said with a warm smile, “I knew you could do it.”

 

“Oh that's fantastic!” Bulkhead was grinning and scratching his chin with a large digit. The slightest hint of heat colored his cheeks.

 

“We’re gonna have to get you a makeover!” Bumblebee exclaimed while revving his engine, “New pronouns, new style, everything!” 

 

“Cool it BB, don’t wanna overwhelm the lady now do ya?” Jazz tutted.

 

As the team chattered back and forth about her new identity, Arcee felt a warm buzz travel through her circuits. Their unified response of nothing but encouragement and positive energy was entirely unexpected.

 

These bots are… amazing. Sari is amazing. And I… I get to be a femme!

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

In a seedy alley just outside Metroplex, heavy steps echoed through the small space. A mech was pacing and muttering to himself, completely alone in the darkness. If anyone had seen him, they would have written off his presence as another homeless malfunction, doomed to fade away amongst the trash.

 

How wrong they would be.

 

“Aftertzzz… kzall this ti-i-i-ime…” His words stuttered and were full of static, like he had major processor damage. He idly scratched at the badge on his chest, further wearing it away. Hints of purple were all that was left of the once proud emblem. 

 

Suddenly he froze and tilted his head upwards. The bot stood motionless for several kilicks, with the churning red of his optics burning into the gassy purple sky.

 

“Underst-t-t-t-toodzzztsss” He hissed into the gloom of the alley and walked into the street with quivering servos. Transforming into a misshapen, deep purple jet, he rocketed up into the atmosphere, leaving Cybertron behind… for now.

Notes:

Hehehehe... Sure are a bunch weirdos hanging around aren't there?

Chapter 4: New Vows

Summary:

Arcee is trying to rest after her first cycle back on Cybertron. But some unexpected guests come by to visit.

Arcee waited with the team in the council building for several hours after they arrived. But Optimus still hadn’t returned from the meeting.

 

Understandable I suppose. There was a lot that happened on Earth after all. 

 

Eventually, her processor began to ache painfully, prompting Ratchet to ask Jazz if she could rest somewhere. He suggested the temporary quarters that had been set aside for the heroes ahead of time.

 

Arcee laid on a comfortable berth in the dimly lit room. She didn’t feel like recharging yet, so she merely lay there idly, hoping the pain in the seams of her helm would go away soon.

 

She had almost drifted off unintentionally when the door buzzed. Groaning at being denied her rest, Arcee sat up and leaned against the padded wall of her berth nook.

 

“Come in…” she called out groggily.

 

Her optics widened with surprise when the door slid open to reveal Optimus Prime with Sari sitting on his shoulder.

 

“Arcee! Hey girl!” The tiny femme called out excitedly.

 

“Good evening.” Optimus greeted her in what she'd come to recognize as his diplomatic voice, “I hope we’re not disturbing you.”

 

“N-not at all! Would you like to ccome in?”

 

“Duh!” Sari answered with scoff as she hopped off her leader’s shoulder and sauntered inside. 

 

“Yes, thank you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, but he hesitated a moment before stepping after. “How are you feeling?”

 

Sari hopped up onto the berth and plopped down across from her. Optimus pulled up a chair to the side before sitting with his servos on his knee joints.

 

“Umm… okay I guess.” Having the both of them in here alone and paying close attention to her was powerfully embarrassing. “My head is still hurting, but getting to rest for a while has helped a bit.”

 

“That’s wonderful to hear!” Optimus responded cheerfully.

 

“Ugh, come on Prime!” Sari grouched from her position on the berth while flailing her arms, “Tell her the good news!”

 

“I’m getting there, Sari. She hasn’t even accepted yet.”

 

What are they talking about?

 

“A-Accept what?” She asked.

 

“Well, I’m actually here to offer you a job.” Optimus averted his optics and rubbed the back of his helm bashfully. Arcee’s mouth fell open in shock.

 

“A job?!” She exclaimed, looking back and forth between them, “What job?”

 

“You get to join our team!” Crawling up to her crossed stabilizing servos, Sari looked up at her with wide, excited optics.

 

“B-B-But why?!” Panic and confusion built in her processor. Arcee began to vent hard and fast as her systems started to overheat. “I’m just a w-washed up intel bot! I can barely do anything right now let alone a job! Even when I was healthy I failed my most important mission…” 

 

She felt like a failure now more than ever. A mistake that nobody noticed until it was too late. Now they wanted to give her a job? As her destructive stream of consciousness trailed off, the room fell into silence as Optimus and Sari stared at, aghast. 

 

Sari stepped carefully into her lap and wrapped her arms around her wide chassis. Her organic optics shimmered with clear liquid.

 

“Even… Even if any of that were true, which for the record I don’t think so, we want you on our team because we trust and believe in you.” She explained sagely, “It's not about what you can do for us. It’s about what we can do together.”

 

“Sari is correct.” Optimus agreed, crossing his arms and nodding his head, “We just lost someone very... important to us all. While nobody can replace him, that’s not our intent either. I believe we need you with us just as much as you may need to be with us.”

 

“Oh,” She was still processing much of their words, but a begrudging understanding grew in her mind, “I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that.” 

 

“Besides, we were all washed up stellar cycles ago. So you should feel right at home.” Prime stated with a cheeky smirk.

 

“Who are you calling washed up Prime!” Sari declared indignantly and puffed up her breastplate, “I’ve always been perfect.” 

 

Her antics drew a giggle from Arcee's lips before she realized it. She reached out to affectionately ruffle Sari’s hair, feeling quite a bit better.

 

“So if I say yes… What would that mean?” She asked, curiosity sufficiently peaked.

 

“Full disclosure, it won’t be an easy position. We’ve been tasked with hunting down wayward Decepticons. Manyremain unaccounted for after the assault on the space bridge network.” Optimus must have noticed the rising anxiety in her field, because he quickly continued, “But we’re not going right away. We’ve got plenty of time to get you fixed up and in fighting shape.”

 

Arcee’s processor was starting to ache again. As she considered the offer, she idly began rubbing circles on the sides of her helm, attempting to soothe her pain. 

 

“Do you… need some time to think about it?” Sari asked with a concerned look on her organic features.

 

Do I?

 

The former intel bot hadn't the slightest idea where she would go from this point in the first place. She had no other friends or connections. It had been a long time since Autobot Intelligence needed anything from her. Also, she wasn’t exactly eager to work for them considering how they just… broke her and left her pieces lying around for 4 million stellar cycles.

 

At least with this team, she’d be around bots who really cared about her, even if it might be dangerous. Plus, she wasn’t sure she could say no to Sari’s wide, quivering optics and frowning mouth.

 

“Okay, I accept.”

 

“EEEEEEEEE!!!!” Sari squealed with delight and tackled her against the berth wall in a crushing hug. 

 

“Easy now, Sari.” Prime admonished as he pulled the techno organic up by the collar of her breast plating and set her on the other end of the berth.

 

“Eh heh… Sorry.” She apologized with flushed cheeks, scratching the back of her head in embarrassment. 

Aww…  

 

“Welcome to the team, Arcee. I’m looking forward to working with you.” Prime said with a warm smile. 

 

“Th-Thank you…” She couldn’t quite find the words to express how she felt right now, so those would have to do. 

 

The last few solar cycles had been wildly overwhelming and that didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon. But… she was actually excited. She had more opportunities for a bright future than she could have ever hoped for.

 

“Also, we had another request, but this one is more personal.” He added while quickly glancing at the techno-organic.

 

“Oh? What is it?” Arcee wasn’t sure what it could be, but she resolved to do her best to grant it for her new teammates. It was the least she could do to repay them.

 

“Sari is one of the most powerful and intelligent bots on our team, but she’s still inexperienced and has little knowledge of our world and culture-”

 

“I heard that…” the bot in question grumbled and crossed her arms.

 

“To that end, we would like you to be her mentor for the time being.”

 

Arcee’s spark fluttered beneath her breastplate. The prospect of having a new student, especially one as special as Sari brought a grin to her lips. But that didn't mean she had no questions.

 

“But… wouldn’t you all be able to teach her? I’m sure she’s learned a great deal from you all already.” She asked. There had to be a reason they wanted an outsider to hold such a responsibility.

 

“Oh please, you shoulda seen how bad they were at.” Sari snickered knowingly.

 

“As much as I hate to admit it… Sari is right.” Apparent embarrassment flushed his cheek plates, “If anything, she’s taught us much more than we could hope to reciprocate.”

 

“You actually said it?!” She gasped in an exaggerated fashion and began bouncing up and down, “AHAHAHA!!! I win! I’m gonna listen to my recording of you saying that every night before bed from now on.” 

 

“Oh dear…” Optimus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his optics, “I may have just doomed us all.”

 

Arcee couldn’t help it. She doubled over with laughter at the sheer silliness of their behavior. Warmth flooded her circuits as the positivity of all their fields merged together in this small moment.

 

“Of course I’ll mentor you, Sari.” She said after regaining her composure.

 

“Yes!” Sari cheered, pumping her fist in victory, “Oh, uhh, by the way… can I stay with you? These rooms are wayyyy too big for me.” 

 

“Oh!” The request was unexpected, but understandable. Even if she was half Cybertronian, this wasn’t her homeworld. It wasn't exactly built for bots her size either. “I don’t see why not. As long as Optimus is ok with it.”

 

“Pleeeeeease Prime?” Sari pleaded, clasping her servos together as she look up at him pitifully.

 

“I-I guess that is acceptable…” Optimus agreed and averted his optics, unable to bear the brunt of her gaze.

 

“Booya!” She began to wildly punch the air in victory, "From now on it's sleepover city for us!"

 

“Remember Sari, Arcee needs to rest, so don’t over do it, ok?” He admonished in a firm voice.

 

“Woops! Yup, you’re right…” Sari smiled bashfully at them, “My bad.” 

 

“Well, now that all that's settled-” Optimus stood from the chair and gingerly pushed it back against the wall, “You ladies have a goodnight. We’ll meet in the morning to discuss our course of action.”

 

Prime left the room, but Arcee's natural curiosity latched onto his parting words.

 

“Sari, can I ask you something?” She asked, lightly poking her soft midsection to get her attention.

 

“Sure, what’s up?”  Sari tilted inquisitively, despite how her optics began to droop.

 

“What did he mean by ‘goodnight’ and the ‘morning’?”

 

“Welllll, the morning is usually when our star comes up on one side of the Earth. Humans sleep at night when it goes down and wake as it rises.” Arcee performed a crosscheck with her Earth database to get more information.

 

“But Cybertron doesn’t have a day and night cycle, we’re not close enough to a star. So why would he say it here?” She adored the Autobots who had been living on Earth, but they were certainly a strange bunch compared to other Cybertronians. 

 

“Probably because it's a habit they all got used to?” She answered, shrugging and scratching her hair as she considered the question more carefully now.

 

“And what about ‘goodnight’?”

 

“That’s basically like you’re wishing someone to have a peaceful rest. Sleep is really important for humans, but lots of stuff can happen that makes it difficult.”

 

“Ah I see.” Arcee nodding her own helm in understanding, “Recharging regularly is also healthy for Cybertronians. Fascinating.”

 

Sari opened her mouth wide and sucked in a long vent. Or a yawn as humans called them.

 

“Speaking of that, I think I’m ready for a power down myself...” Sari rubbed her optics with both servos.

 

Arcee smiled down at her affectionately and tapped a button on the berth’s control panel, causing the lights to dim.

 

“Well then, why don’t we both power down for a while.” She suggested and laid back on the berth.

 

“Okie…” Sari yawned again, but longer this time. She crawled into the crook of Arcee's arm and cuddled up to her breastplate, “Goodnight Arcee…”

 

“Goodnight Sari.”

 

As she drifted off into recharge, the Autobot realized she had never felt more content in her entire lifetime.

Notes:

Everything is going so well for everybody! I'm sure everything will always be this fluffy and happy. Nothing could possibly go wrong!

Chapter 5: Shattered Dreams

Summary:

Prime's team, now including Arcee, had been named the founding members of the Ministry of Decepticon Containment. Now with their own facility, things seem to be going fairly well.

Trying to keep his promise, Ratchet meets with the head of the Ministry of Science, hoping to get Arcee's treatment underway.

Notes:

Okay everybody, this is gonna be a rough chapter so give a few TWs.

TRIGGER WARNING
I like many trans people have had bad experiences with medical institutions. That will be happening in this chapter. Misgendering will happen. There will be very light self harm. A character is going to have something like a robot panic attack or traumatic outburst.

If at any point you start feeling too bad to handle, please stop and take care of yourself. Even with my black heart, this chapter was very hard to write for a lot of reasons.

That being said, I adore how this one turned out. So read on and enjoy!

“What do ya mean it’s ‘not possible’?” Ratched demanded, irritation already seeping into his tone.

 

“It means precisely what I told you.” Perceptor responded in his emotionless monotone, “Arcee’s condition is beyond our ability to treat. Therefor, it is not possible.” 

 

They had only been back on Cybertron for about a mega-cycle and the head of the Autobot Ministry of Science was already giving him the runaround. 

 

“That’s a load of scrap and you know it, Perceptor!” He snapped and banged his servos against the desk, “Why should I even trust your medical opinion anyway? You’re the dim-spark who said the damage to her processor was ‘irreversible’!”

 

“You would do well to mind your emotions, Ratchet, you are already in an unfavorable standing with the Ministry.” The scientist replied, ignoring the logic in his words.

 

“But we haven’t even had the chance to fully study her condition! We could help her and others like her.” Ratchet pleaded, desperate now to make him reconsider, “After all she’s been through, she deserves a chance to be healed!”

 

“Cybertronians with incompatible Core and Meta processors have received appropriate treatment since the Great War’s conclusion.” Perceptor elaborated, “Arcee is one of very few pre-war bots still online. His condition is too unique to justify devoting additional resources to his treatment. You should advise him to accept the reality of his situation.”

 

I-I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Ratchet’s servos were shaking with barely contained anger. Frag that, I can believe it. These bots haven’t changed at all. 

 

Ratchet shot to his stabilizers fast enough that his chair toppled and slammed his open servos on the desk. 

 

“You- You make me sick to my spark, Perceptor! After all these stellar cycles, you still think of your fellow Cybertronians as a means to an end!” He shouted and knocked half of the documents on the desk to the floor with a swipe of his servo. Spinning on his heel, he had few words left for his old colleague, “Fine! I’ll just have to treat her myself!” 

 

“Ratchet,” Perceptor called out to him before he could storm out of the office. Looking over his shoulder at the scientist, Ratchet knew that whatever was coming next would not be good, “Should you attempt to perform unauthorized medical procedures on a Cybertronian, your popularity with the council would not be enough to keep you out of detainment.”

 

“Tch,” Ratchet scoffed at the poorly veiled threat, “Shove it up your exhaust port, sir .”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arcee’s spark felt like it had bottomed out in her chassis. 

 

She and Ratchet sat with Optimus in his brand new office at the Ministry of Decepticon Containment. Team Prime was undeniably the most successful and experienced Autobots alive at combating Decepticons. Thus, the Council concluded that putting as much resources as possible at Optimus’ disposal would guarantee their success against the Cons.

 

Their new headquarters was constructed within the Metroplex and was equipped with basically everything they would ever need. Quarters, training facilities, a medical and research laboratory. Including a holding cells for inbound prisoners. There was even a dock so Omega Supreme could power down when they weren't off-planet. 

 

But Ratchet had just returned from his meeting with the head of the Ministry of Science with ill tidings. The news that not only would they not help, but that Ratchet could be court martialed if he even tried was spark shattering. 

 

She sat numbly in her chair, staring at the floor. Consumed by her negative processes, she'd stopped listening to her teammates frustrated back and forth kilicks ago.

 

It felt like all the words and heartfelt support she’d received since reawakening had been hollow. Logically, she knew that wasn’t the case, but that didn’t change how it felt in this moment. 

 

Ratchet gently laid a servo on her shoulder pauldron, startling her briefly from the downward spiral.

 

“We’ll figure this out Arcee... I promise you that.” He assured her, putting as much of his determination and certainty into his field. “It’s just gonna take more time than we thought…”

 

More… time?  

 

“NO!” Arcee shouted and stood from her chair, shoving the medic away, “More time ?! You let them vivisect me over 4 million stellar cycles ago. My so-called people shoved me in a closet when they were done! I have lost... so much time already Ratchet!”

 

Arcee was vibrating with mounting rage as despair gripped her spark. Her servos shook. Her stabilizers quaked. Her vent was chugging with exertion, trying to keep her internals cool. The blue light of her optics flickered in their sockets.

 

And then there was the pain. The seams of her helm screamed in agony. It burned like a rust infection as her hopes unraveled. This was all just too much. She needed to get out of here. Now.

 

“A-Arcee… I-” Ratchet looked at her with sorrow in his old optics, his mouth moved like he was trying to speak but couldn’t find the words. 

 

“FRAG IT ALL!” She shrieked and punched the door controls with enough force to bury her clenched fist in the wall. When the door slid open, she ripped her servo from the shattered panel and stomped out.

 

“Arcee, wait!” Optimus called as he tried to follow her out, “This isn’t over! We can still make this right!”

 

She was running down the halls now. It felt like the corridors were closing in on her. Just being inside their new headquarters was making her feel increasingly claustrophobic.

 

Get out get out get out get out get out get out get out… She chanted over and over in her processor until the main doors were in sight. The moment she reached them, they opened to reveal Sari standing just outside.

 

“Hey Arc- Wh-what’s wrong?! Are you ok?!” Sari’s field exploded with concern seeing her so distraught. Her appearance had stopped Arcee in her tracks. Her spark ached at the upset expression on the girl's face, but the pain in her processor was drowning out everything else.

 

“I-I-I’m sorry, I have to go!” Arcee managed to say, words stuttering as they came out. Before the techno-organic could respond, she transformed into her sleek, blue car mode and accelerated fast enough to make her tires screech against the ground. She sped away from the Ministry of Decepticon Containment and didn't look back.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arcee drove through the streets of Metroplex at top speed, weaving between other bots with furious precision. She drove and drove until she reached the city limits. And then she drove some more.

 

Eventually she rolled to a stop by the side of the road. There, she transformed into robot mode and wandered into an abandoned energon station. The shop looked to be a few millennia old and was caked in rust. 

 

Her rage had died breems ago, leaving only a suffocating hopelessness. Arcee trudged behind the checkout counter and curled up on the dusty floor. Knowing her friends would try to track her, she had turned off her communicator and masked her energy signal. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk to anyone.

 

Feeling exhausted beyond reason, she powered down to recharge. Arcee laid there alone as the building continued its millions of stellar cycles of slow decay.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sari was curled up in Ratchet's lap, crying and shaking. Neither of them had said much since Arcee left. The Autobots had gathered together in the MDC’s briefing room, trying to decide on a course of action. 

 

“I don’t understand why we’re all still here sitting on our skid plates when we should be out looking for her!” Bumblebee shouted, gesticulating wildly with his servos. 

 

“Because she’s a former intel bot, Bumblebee.” Optimus reminded him evenly, steepling his digits in thought, “We tried tracking her, but there was no signal. Arcee was one of our best intel bots. If she doesn’t want to be found, we won't. We just have to hope that changes…”

 

Prime couldn’t keep his optics from falling. He still believed they could help Arcee. Her departure was incredibly premature, and she'd certainly hurt Ratchet and Sari by doing so. However, he also sympathized with her situation.

 

I’d be pretty hopeless too if I were in her plating. Optimus took a long, deep vent as his thoughts drifted to Prowl. Out of all of them, the cyber-ninja had been the most adept at understanding the feelings and needs of others. If anyone could find and bring back the wayward femme, it might have been him. He began to worry about the consequences if she never returned. For her, Sari, Ratchet… No. I won’t let another one of my team down.

 

“What do we do now, Prime?” Bulkhead asked somberly.

 

“We wait. She’ll come back.” He said, trying his best to believe it would be true. “And when she does, each and every one of us needs to be ready to be there for her. I don’t know about you bots, but I can scarcely imagine what she’s going through right now.”

 

“I-I think I can…” Sari hopped from Ratchet’s lap onto the computer table they all sat around. Her eyes were bloodshot and she still sniffled from crying for so long, but she seemed determined to speak. 

 

“When I found out I wasn’t entirely human, it felt like the world fell from beneath my feet. I felt alone and scared, even though you were all still there for me. All I wanted to do was push everyone away because I didn't know who or what to believe anymore.” The teenager took a shaky breath in as more tears spilled down her cheeks. She was trying to calm herself while recounting one of the worst parts of her short life. “But dad and you guys never gave up on me. That’s what we need to be for her. Right, Ratchet?”

 

“You’re right Sari… of course you are.” He'd had taken Arcee’s words extremely hard, but Ratchet had to know she didn’t actually hold him responsible for High Command action's. 

 

At least Prime hoped that was the case. She didn’t strike him as the type of bot who’d lay blame irrationally. But she was in pain, and that could make you say or do many things you don’t intend.

 

“I don’t think we can do anymore at the moment.” Optimus stated as he stood from his chair at the head of the table, “I want all of you to get some rest. We have a lot on our plates. And I expect each of you to be ready for what lies ahead. Understood?” 

 

“Yes, Prime.” They all sounded off synchronously, if with varying levels of enthusiasm. He was fairly certain their medic had only mumbled his confirmation. 

 

“Jazz, would you be able to keep an eye out for her using our intelligence network?” Optimus requested of the cyber-ninja.

 

Jazz was most certainly not a member of the MDC, but he was notorious for his nosiness. Prime figured he might as well take advantage of that.

 

“No problem, OP. I’ll let you know if I catch any whiffs.” Standing from his own chair, he sauntered out with merely a wave over his shoulder. 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As the Autobots filed out of the briefing room, Sari and Ratchet were left alone. For several kilicks, they just sat there, processing their spark-break. 

 

“I don’t care what we have to do…” Sari said eventually, prompting him to meet her shimmering optics, “We’re going to get Arcee the help she needs.”

 

“Yeah kid… whatever it takes.”

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reading. It really means the world to me.

Chapter 6: The Proton Blaster

Summary:

Arcee gets a rude awakening.

Notes:

This chapter shouldn't be nearly as emotionally intensive as the last. There's also a pseudo OC character in here. They're a named transformer who apparently never got any real character created for her. She ended up meeting the requirements for a character I needed in this chapter, so I made up everything about her except her name, gender and job.

Enjoy!

Arcee stood beneath a sea of stars. 

 

Below her loomed the void, endless in its all consuming blackness.

 

She looked frantically in every direction as the emptiness of this place surrounded her. 

 

Where was she? How did she get here? Arcee had many reasonable questions in this unreasonable situation. 

 

The starry space scape was flush against the darkness beneath her pedes. It looked impossibly similar to a horizon, albeit a profoundly flawed one. She spun in place, seeming to be standing on something flat, trying to look for a way out. 

 

But everywhere it was the same wrongness, until it wasn’t. 

 

Someone else was here.

 

Standing on the horizon of the void, a figure was silhouetted against the vast expanse of twinkling lights. They had broad shoulders and a powerfully built frame. Upon the crown of their darkened helm were three horns like a trident. 

 

Arcee knew this bot. Somewhere deep in her corrupted memory core, she felt the caress of a familiar consciousness. 

 

Suddenly, the stars around the figure began to blink out. One by one they extinguished until their silhouette disappeared. 

 

Fear gripped her processor as the heavens fell into darkness...

 

Thunk!

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

External Threat Detected

 

Thunk!

 

Automatic Termination Of Recharge State

Systems Status: Green

Combat Systems: Offline

 

Thunk!

 

“Ow!” As Arcee woke up from her restless recharge, something metal whacked her helm. She automatically brought her arms up to shield herself from further assault.

 

“Wellll now, looks like someone’s online afta all…” An unknown bot said with a smug, snivelly voice, “What’s a nice lookin bot like yous doin in a scrapheap like this?”

 

Arcee slowly moved her arms aside to get a better look at whoever decided to interrupt her recharge.

 

He was a short mech with gray and brown plating. Horizontal yellow stripes decorated his chest beneath a faded Autobot badge. Two, long buck teeth protruded from his mouth, reminding Arcee of the rodents from Earth. On the sides of his helm were tall audio receptors that looked very similar to organic ears.

 

“Were you kicking my head?” She asked indignantly, rubbing her sore helm as she sat up on the floor of the rusted out energon station. 

 

“Ehh, don’t think of it as me kickin your noggin…" He said, waggling his servo in the air. "More like I was doin my due diligence to not turn an online mech into spare parts.”  

 

“Gee, thanks.” She responded dryly and stood up, bracing a servo on the counter for stability, “Also, I’m a femme. Not a mech.”

 

“Ohhh, my sincerest apologies, toots.” The weasley bot retorted while performing a mock bow, “I gotta tell ya, it’s killin my curiosity not knowin why you’re all tha way out ere. You don’t look like the type o’lady who enjoys this rust-ic locale.”

 

I ran. Arcee’s spark sank remembering what happened. How she acted. What she said… Part of her was desperate to talk to someone, but she didn’t know this mech. Just because he was an Autobot, it didn’t mean he could be trusted. I’ve certainly learned that the hard way … 

 

“Sorry, I don’t even know who you are.” She said, carefully watching for his reactions, “Besides, it’s not really any of your business.” 

 

“Alright alright, I hear ya loud and clear, sister.” He replied, holding up his servos placatingly, “Anywhoo, you look like you could use a sip o’energon. I know a nice place to lay low, what do ya say to that?” 

 

Arcee did a quick vitals diagnostic, finding her energon reserves at a measly 14%.

 

Not enough to get back to the MDC building. I could always call them… have them pick me up. Except, just thinking about facing her friends again after how she behaved filled her processor with anxiety. I can’t… not yet.   

 

“Tch,” Arcee scoffed lightly, feeling frustrated with herself, “Fine.” 

 

“Ehhehe! I just knew you’d come around.” He cackled triumphantly and snapped his digits together, “Allow me to lead da way, madam.” 

 

He sauntered outside the abandoned station. As Arcee followed, she realized she hadn’t caught his name.

 

“I’m Arcee, who are you?”

 

“Who moi? The name’s Rattletrap, don’t wear it out… Ar-cee .” The strange Autobot transformed into a heavily modified street cleaner. There was even an unsettling pink tail on his rear bumper. 

 

“Now, uh, if you’d be kind enough to roll this way , we’ll grab some energon for yous.” Rattletrap’s tires squealed on the pavement as he zoomed away. Transforming into her own alt-mode, Arcee kicked her engine into high gear and caught up to him easily. 

 

As they drove towards the outskirts of Metroplex, the sorrow in her spark grew ever heavier. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“The Proton Blaster?” Arcee asked, unsure about going inside.

 

She couldn’t help but look upon the grimy, hole in the wall bar with uncertainty. Judging by all the broken lamps, garbage, and decommissioned establishments on this street, she imagined most well-to-do Autobots wouldn’t be caught offline here. 

 

“Well are ya just gonna stand on your stabilizers gawkin or ya gonna come inside, Bluey?” Rattletrap goaded while holding the door open for her.

 

“Bluey?” She an arched optic brow at him.

 

“I know wat I said.” 

 

With little else to lose, Arcee relented and followed him in.

 

The Proton Blaster was a dimly lit bar with enough room to fit only a couple dozen bots at once. There was a mishmash of different styles of chairs and tables, like each one had been plucked from the trash heap at random. 

 

Squeezed behind the counter was an enormous femme who, unlike the boxy design of most Cybertronians, looked to be built from interconnected spheres. The right side of her frame was blue with a red minus sign on her round shoulder while the right was red with a blue plus sign. Her visor flashed with recognition as she looked up from cleaning a glass with her large digits.

 

“Hey there Dips!” Rattletrap said with a friendly wave as he sat on a bar stool.

 

“I told you not to call me that, Rattletrap.” She rebuked him with a menacing rumble in her deep voice.

 

“Yeesh, alright don’t get your aft in a twist, Dipole .” But he waved off her aggression with a servo, “My lady been by yet?” 

 

‘His’ lady?  

 

“Yes, Botanica has already dropped off the new stock.” She answered, optics flicking to Arcee suspiciously. 

 

“Eh, don’t worry about ol Blue here, she’s alright. Just lookin for a glass o’energon.” Rattletrap slapped her pauldron with a servo for emphasis.

 

“Are you certain? Because she looks like one of the Autobots that just arrived from off-planet last mega-cycle…” Dipole hissed. The intimidating Autobot stood up to her full height, looming over her much smaller frame. 

 

“No kiddin!” Once again ignoring the animosity rolling off the bartender’s field as he continued to pester her, “I thought ya looked familiar! I was in that crowd, tryin to see ol buckethead himself.”

 

Rattletrap scrutinized her with narrowed optics, holding his chin idly with his digits.

 

Oh dear... Gotta do something quick or this could be bad. 

 

Every civilization had an underworld. As an intel bot, Arcee had ample experience dealing with people who were forced, or chose, to live on the fringes of society. Confidence could take one great distances, while hesitation often wrought disaster. Petty morals and ideals usually meant nothing in these circles. More often than not, money bought success and strength kept you online. There were times when she wondered if the many faces she wore over the years reflected the bot she'd become, and not the one she hoped to be.

 

“Yeah, that’s me. What of it?” She scowled up at Dipole and crossed her arms over breastplate.

 

“I’m sure you’ve already concluded that this establishment isn’t exactly authorized by the Ministry of Commerce.” She stated, “How do we know you’re not going to report us once you’ve had your drink?” 

 

“As if.” Arcee waved off her concern, “After what High Command did to me, I won’t be doing them any favors any time soon.” 

 

“And what, pray tell, did they do to ya?” Rattletrap ask with a wide, toothy grin.

 

Scrap.

 

The best lies were always based on the truth. However, Arcee was hesitant to reveal her condition to these bots. They were clearly shady characters, but judging by their fields, neither actually seemed to mean her any harm. If Rattletrap had wanted to take advantage of her, he would have done it while she was recharging. 

 

Also, she really needed the energon. 

 

Truth it is then.

 

“I have an incompatible Core and Meta processor.” She paused, giving herself a moment to vent before continuing, “As you can see, I was forged a mech, but my programming is femme. So, I need an overhaul. But the Ministry of Science said I was too old and damaged to treat…”

 

Despite her paranoia, emotion leaked into her words. She'd had a long cycle with no one to talk to about what was truly troubling her. The reality of her grim future weighed heavily on her spark. Arcee winced as her helm throb painfully again, prompting her to rub circles onto her temple with her digits.

 

Rattletrap whistled and tutted sympathetically.

 

“Those high and mighty bots sure did you dirty, toots.” But genuine sympathy leaked into his field, “You’d think since we was all Autobots they’d be a little more supportive, but they’re treatin a hero like you like a pile o scrap… what a shame that is.” 

 

“You know,” Dipole spoke while pouring energon into a glass from the tap, “there’s a small... possibility I have a solution to your predicament.”

 

“There is?!” She blurted out, unable to keep the desperation from her voice. Hope surged in her field. She knew it was more likely to be false hope, but at the moment, Arcee would take what she could get. “You have to tell me! Please... I don't know what else to do...”

 

“Dipole…” Judging by his tone, Rattletrap seemed unusually nervous about whatever she may reveal, “You don’t mean…?”

 

“Yes, I do.” She replied evenly as she set the full glass of energon in front of Arcee. She was eager to hear the bartender's information, but her dangerously low energon levels urged her to start chugging the pink fluid. 

 

“B-But, should we really be tellin her ?” He nervously tapped his digits together and glancing around the small establishment.

 

“Rattletrap… if they’re going to treat someone like her this way, we have to be better.” Dipole admonished, “Besides, it's the least we can do since she helped bring that warmonger to justice, flawed though it may be.”

 

Okay, I was totally wrong about both of these bots… well, maybe not Rattletrap. Warmth flooded her circuits hearing the simple nobility of Dipole’s words. She was reminded of her team, who were probably worried sick about her. 

 

“Fine fine,” And he slumped over the counter, “do what eva ya want.” 

 

“Listen up, Arcee ,” The bicolored femme placed a second glass of energon in front of hee, “There’s a doctor a few blocks over. Set up a small clinic outta nowhere about a mega-cycle ago. Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Is she going to recommend I go to an unlicensed doctor for my life changing procedure?’”

 

Scrap. This bartender can read thoughts.  

 

“But this ones different.” She continued, “Every bot in the neighborhood has been to get their ailments fixed, including me and Rattles here. No matter how serious the problem, we’ve all come out of there feelin like freshly forged bots.” 

 

“W-wow…” Whoever this doctor was, they must be a genius. Even if this was too good to be true, it sure sounded like a better opportunity than High Command was going to give her... “Who are they? How much do they charge?” 

 

“Well that’s the rub, Blue.” Rattletrap was suddenly interested in the conversation again, “They won’t let no one see what they look like. Could be a mech, could be a femme. For all we know they’re fraggin Deceptiscum. But they’re also the best thing to happen to our little community in milli-vorns.”

 

“They also charge us exorbitant prices for treatment.” Dipole elaborated with a sigh, “For a problem like yours, they’ll probably charge you enough to buy the whole block and then some.”

 

“Hmm…” Arcee finished her second glass of energon and set the empty container on the counter.

 

An uncertified doctor with an unknown identity who just happened to show up right after her team arrived on Cybertron. Even discounting the inherent risks, she could be walking into a trap. And if it wasn't, there was still a massive price tag that she likely couldn't pay.

 

But the fact of the matter was that she had very few other options. She wasn't in any condition to actively track down and capture Decepticons. Without treatment, her new job would be gone before it began. Even if Ratchet had the expertise to develop the procedure, it would take time she didn't have. Or get him arrested.

 

Ratchet was a turning point in her life, even if it took millions of stellar cycles for it to turn around. She cared about the medic too deeply to put his life at risk like that. 

 

Guess that’s my answer.

 

“Okay, where is this doctor?”

 

“Here, I’ll ping you the coordinates.” Dipole flipped open a curved panel on her lower arm and pressed a few buttons. 

 

Coordinates Received

Calculating Route

 

“Let me make one last thing clear.” Standing to her full height the bartender's visor narrowed at her, “If anything happens to our doctor because of you, nothing will save you from our displeasure, understand?” 

 

Arcee let out an involuntary burst of static as aggression radiating from Dipole's field washed over her, but she managed to nod nervously in agreement.

 

“Excellent.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Stepping outside The Proton Blaster, Arcee found herself alone on the grimy street. She took a long, deep intake vent and allowed herself a moment to shudder with anxiety. 

 

“Alright girl,” She said to herself, steeling her processor, “Let’s do this.” 

 

After transforming into car mode, she drove down the street in the direction her GPS indicated.

 

I won't forget this Dipole... Provided I'm still online to return the favor.

Notes:

One of the benefits of having wide ranging medical care available for people of all types, like transgender people and women, is that it keeps them from being forced to seek less than ideal help. Just because you ban people from doing things like transitioning or getting abortions doesn't mean you're going to stop them from getting them. But if you provide care like these examples, you can make sure they get help as safely as possible.

In my story, Arcee is unfortunately being put in this position by a system that doesn't care about her. People face dilemma's like hers everyday on our world. They shouldn't have to put themselves at risk for what they need to live.

Alright I'll get off my energon cube now.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, I can't wait to tell you what happens next!

Chapter 7: The Back Alley Doctor

Summary:

Arcee is desperate. She's in a bad situation. What she's about to do could either turn her life around or be the end of her.

Notes:

Okie dokie everyone buck up! This will be another rough chapter. Honestly, I'm not sure if any of the regular trigger warnings apply, so I'll throw out a few of my own.

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS
Assault of a non-sexual kind occurs. A character ends up in a life threatening situation.

The navigation program led Arcee through an old commercial area that probably hadn't been busy since before the war. Most of the buildings were gray and covered with rust and government closure notices printed on their tightly sealed doors. Here and there she passed worn out looking Autobots that ran for the darkness of nearby alleys at the sight of her.

 

Primus... 

 

Finally pulling up to the address, she transformed in front of a decrepit warehouse with no obvious external markings. It didn't even have any doors or windows as far as she could see.

 

This is feeling less and less like a good idea…   But she’d come this far already. Surely it couldn’t hurt to at least talk to them. Whoever they are.

 

The note that Dipole had attached to the directions told her to go around the back and find the door with scratches on it. Moving closer to the dimly lit alley between the warehouse and its neighbor, she could see a single red light at the far end that barely illuminated the darkness at all.

 

Arcee performed a sensor sweep. To her relief, all she picked up were a few wayward swarm bugs digging around in the junk piles for scraps to consume. 

 

“Come on, move those pedes.”

 

When her first tentative steps didn’t cause anyone to jump out at her, she proceeded carefully into the gloom. Beneath the red lamp at the far end was a panel in the wall of the warehouse. Considering it had eight, parallel claw marks gouged into the surface, it seemed like she was in the right spot.

 

Though, she felt it was generous to call it a door. It had no external way of opening it. No handle, no control panel, not even a ‘push’ sign. Knocking twice, Arcee could only hope for the best. 

 

Knock knock.

 

Nothing. 

 

Knock knock knock! She tried again, but came up with the same result. Once again, her hopes began to feel out of reach.

 

“Excuse me?” She called out, “I was told you could help me. I have nowhere else to go. Please…” 

 

Slumping against the door, she felt utterly lost.

 

This had been her last resort. 

 

Arcee saw herself returning to the MDC building in shame. Ratchet would help her of course, but she’d just get stuck in a closet again. He would work himself so hard he’d have a spark attack. Or, he’d get detained before he found a solution because he was performing illegal medical experiments. 

 

Arcee would end up in the same place she started. Waiting for someone to come up with a way to fix her. Again. 

 

Click.  

 

“Huh- EEP!!” She squeaked in alarm when the door opened suddenly, causing to tumble inside. Landing hard on her back in a room with a flickering light overhead, the door slammed shut behind her.

 

“Scrap…” Getting to her stabilizing servos, she took in the small space. 

 

The walls were likely originally white, but were now pale yellow from age. The only furniture was a simple stool pushed into the corner. Opposite the door was an intercom on the wall with a closed metal drawer below it. On the left was a heavy, sliding panel that looked big enough for a regular sized bot to pass through. 

 

How did Dipole even get in here??  

 

“Uh… Hello?” She called uncertainly to the intercom. 

 

“What do you want?” A distorted, static filled voice responded through the speaker. It echoed unnaturally in the confined space.

 

“Oh, umm…”

 

“Out with it already!” The voice snapped, “I’m quite busy.” 

 

“I’m s-sorry! I-I have a condition I need help with.” 

 

“And what condition would that be?” They asked. 

 

“My Core and Meta processor are incompatible. My doc said I was supposed to have been forged as a femme…” Under any other circumstances, she would have been more hesitant to volunteer this information, but again, she was desperate. 

 

The voice said nothing for several kilicks. Unsure of what else to do, Arcee merely waited as patiently as she could. Hoping against all the setbacks life had thrown at her that this would work. 

 

“I’ll need to take some scans of you.” Was all they said before the panel slid open. Inside was a small corridor with an identical panel on the far side. “Walk inside. The sensor will detect any monitoring or recording devices you have. If you want to leave the room alive, I suggest you turn them all off now.”

 

“Okay…” Arcee really hoped this wasn’t a trap.

 

Internal Recording Database: Offline

 

Here goes nothing.  

 

The moment she stepped inside the dark corridor, the panel slid shut behind her. A blue scanning laser came to life in the corner of the ceiling. It slowly swept up and down her frame a couple times before extinguishing. 

 

"So can you help-"

 

A mechanical whirring sound reached her audio receptors. Before she had a chance to assess it, she felt two sharp pricks in the fuel lines of her neck. Every joint in her body convulsed violently. Her stabilizers buckled, unable to hold her weight up any longer.

 

Foreign Contaminant Detected

Initiating Emergency Sta0284o830281

 

“Oh slag...” 

 

Arcee collapsed to the floor in a heap. 

 

The last thing she felt, laying there twitching in the darkness as her systems shut down, was a deep sense of resignation. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Teaching Unit RC-687-040

External Boot Up Order Received Authorization: Unknown

Core Processor Status: Inconclusive

Commencing Systems Check

Logic Processor: Green

Meta Processor: Inconclusive

Core Programming: Corrupted

Synchronizing Memory Core: Complete

Running Sensory Systems Test

Equilibrium Sensors Online

Auditory Sensors Online

 

As Arcee’s systems slowly onlined, the first thing she heard was an intermittent clacking sound. It sounded like typing.

 

Optical Sensors Offline

 

“Wh-Why aren’t… my optics working…?” Her mind felt sluggish, like she was processing at half power.

 

Vitals: Red

 

Oh scrap… that’s right…

 

Something had knocked her out in an extremely unpleasant fashion. 

 

Energon Reserves: 68%

Combat Systems Offline

Initiating Mobility Test

Mobility Test Aborted

 

Arcee tried to move her servos, but she got no response. As quickly as she could, she performed a manual check of her entire frame. Terrifyingly, the only thing she could actually move were her facial plates and mesh. She couldn’t even feel anything beyond her head.

 

“What are you… gonna do… to me…?” She forced out, voice unsteady with fear. Arcee could barely feel anything, but as her panic rose, she was able to hear the increasingly labored sound of her vent, desperately trying to keep her internals from overheating. 

 

“Now now, we can’t have you melting that cute little processor of yours.” Tutted a smooth, feminine voice from somewhere to her right.

 

Numbness suddenly flooded her circuits. The primal fear that had begun to build to in her processor was extinguished by a calm malaise.

 

"Are you... the doctor…?" Arcee’s vocalizer was sluggish and stuttering when spoke. “What… d-do… me…?” 

 

“Oh honey, you’re not really in any position to be asking me questions.” Through the fog in her processor, she heard the typing stop, followed by the sound of a chair rolling across the floor. Then came the clicking sound of heel struts on the metal floor, moving about the room before coming to a stop in front of her.

 

“Me, on the other servo, I’m in the position to ask you… well, just about anything.” The light scrape of a sharp digit dragged along the line of her jaw. Every word of her dulcet tones oozed superiority. 

 

“Question one: Why are you here?” A digit tapped the center of her forehead. “And don’t bother lying to me. I’ll know if you do.” 

 

“H-here… need help…” Arcee wanted this to be over so badly.

 

“...Hmph. Question two: Why come here?” Her captor sounded put out by the answer.

 

“Nowher...else…” Arcee was so incredibly tired.

 

“Tch, did Prime send you here?” She snapped, and irritation flowing through her field.

 

“No… Dipole…” Arcee missed Ratchet.

 

“Grrr! Why would she send someone like you to me?!” She was shouting now. 

 

“...don’t… know…” Arcee missed Sari.

 

“Fine! Last question: Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just offline you permanently with my cyber-venom?!” The doctor hissed in her audio receptor close enough to feel the heat of her vents wash across her faceplates. 

 

I’m done. 

 

“Can’t…” She barely murmured her answer. Her processor was aching again. Everything was still numb, but the pain in her helm was rapidly breaking through.

 

“Do you really expect me to believe that one of Prime’s minions just accidently crossed paths with one of his greatest enemies? Even when she’s trying to lay low?” The doctor’s voice was much quieter and calmer this time, almost sounding like she did want to believe that.

 

But Arcee was at her limit. She was exhausted. Caught in the clutches of a Decepticon hiding in Metroplex City. 

 

She was being interrogated in the worst possible way. The only way you could be certain another bot wasn’t lying to you was by cracking open their cranial chamber and connecting directly to their Core processing systems.

 

“Why does… this keep happening... to me?”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“...What?” Blackarachnia was extremely confused. 

 

This Autobot waltzed in here and tried to feed her this story so she would drop her guard. But that didn’t explain the readings her equipment was giving. The Decepticon had her completely at her mercy, and the light blue bot hadn’t lied once. 

 

“Kill me…”

 

Blackarachnia recoiled from the shock of hearing Arcee utter those two words. 

 

“W-What the frag are you talking about?!” She spun back around in her chair to check the readings from her equipment.

 

Oh shit. Arcee was going into spark arrest as she experienced a total systems breakdown. 

 

Her arms and four additional legs burst into action. Each of her multijointed limbs worked in complete unison to remove sections of Arcee’s armor from her spark chamber and head. If there was any chance of keeping the Autobot online, she needed to work directly on her internals. 

 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, Arcee,” After a few kilicks of frantic repairs, Blackarachnia finally to stabilize her spark, bringing its dangerous fluctuations under control. Her spark was old. Extraordinarily so. According to her profile in the Autobot Intelligence Network database, she was one of only a small number of pre-war cybertronians still alive. 

 

“I wasn’t going to kill you. My cyber-venom was only supposed to knock you out.” This bot definitely hadn’t been lying about having an incompatible Core and Meta processor. However, Blackarachnia hadn’t expected there to be so much degradation throughout her systems. “So that one’s my bad.”

 

Three of her pointed legs were using micro lasers to repair the circuitry in her Cerebral Core. Her purple, clawed digits danced over the touch screen of her medical pad, making notes and calculations at lightning speed. Having extra limbs certainly made multitasking much easier.  

 

“When I opened you up to hook you into my monitoring equipment…” If she was being honest, she almost gagged. It looked like someone had been digging around in her cranial chamber with claws . “I tried to be as… gentle as I could. But I had to know if you were lying to me… Sorry.”

 

The damage Shockwave did by taking apart her processor was extensive. Repairing her completely was well beyond the medical expertise of anyone else on the planet. Luckily for the blue Autobot, she was a better doctor than any other bot online.

 

Poor thing...

 

Blackarachnia knew she was somewhat of a monster herself. After what she did to that idiot Wasp… there was no sugar coating it. But the Decepticon second in command was a nightmare in the frame of a bot. 

 

If I ever see him again I’ll rip out his optic and shove it up his exaust port. 

 

“Tell you what, cutie pie…” She mumbled to the unconscious Autobot, “This is gonna take a while, but when I’ve got you all fixed up… we’ll have ourselves a nice, long spark to spark. Won’t that be nice?”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Teaching Unit RC-687-040

External Boot Up Order Received Authorization: Unknown

Core Processor Status: Online

Commencing Systems Check

Logic Processor: Green

Meta Processor: [ERROR]

Core Programming: [ERROR]

Synchronizing Memory Core: Complete

Running Sensory Systems Test

Equilibrium Sensors Online

Auditory Sensors Online

 

Arcee could hear the clacking of clawed digits on metal buttons again. 

 

Optical Sensors Online

 

Her optics flickered to life, finally allowing the Autobot to take in her surroundings.

 

She was lying on a simple berth in the middle of a dimly lit room. The walls were lined with shelves of medical supplies. Some of them were quite familiar, but some she wouldn’t even have guessed were medical supplies of any kind.

 

The wall to her right was a computer so massive and complex, that it would make even Perceptor blush. There were so many different readouts and appendages constantly working across its outer casing, it was disorienting her optics just looking at it. 

 

A short distance away, sitting at the main control station was bot in a white lab coat. 

 

Vitals: Green

Energon Reserves: 41%

Combat Systems Offline

Initiating Mobility Test

 

Feeling returned to her frame as her plates and joints recalibrated. They felt stiff and creaky, like she hadn't moved in some time. 

 

Wait a micro-kilick… my head doesn’t hurt! Since reawakening on Omega Supreme all those mega-cycles ago, there hadn’t been a single moment her cranial injuries weren't causing her some level of pain. But now, it almost felt like… 

 

Like I haven’t… been injured at all.

 

“Alrighty then!” 

 

The doctor kicked off the base of her computer, sending her rolling chair speeding across the room, straight at Arcee. She extended a long, powerful leg right before they collided. The chair’s movement halted with the tip of her heel strut on the edge of the berth. 

 

Primus…  

 

This femme was completely unique. Her delicate frame was slender and pointy. Four sharp, insectoid legs extended from her back, twitching idly as she focused on the electronic pad in her servos.

 

She wore an intricate, black and gold breastplate with four, darkened red optics. Though, her armor did not appear to be made of traditional cybertronian alloys. Instead it seemed to be a chitinous material, similar to the exoskeletons of arthropods. 

 

Her unarmored abdomen and thighs were a vibrant purple, lighter than the color of the Decepticon badge on her collar. Smooth, purple mesh covered her sloping neck and jaw. Sharp fangs protruded from her deep violet lips. But most entrancing of all were her primary optics.

 

All four of them glowed red optics shone from within the confines of her black chitin helmet. 

 

“Chzzst… oh, excuse me.” Only static came from her mouth when she opened it, causing her cheek plates to heat up from embarrassment, “What did you… do to me?”

 

“Oh sweet spark, I haven’t even begun to do things to you.” She answered huskily while running a clawed digit up Arcee's arm.

 

“Don’t touch me!” She snapped, causing the Decepticon to recoil and pull her servo back, optics widening in surprise. 

 

“Yeesh okay! Though, I probably deserved that…” The doctor acquiesced, “Look if I wanted you dead I wouldn’t have fixed all your damaged internals.”

 

“You did… what?” 

 

“Well it was like this,” She began, interlinking the sharp digits of her servos, “Your doc, Ratchet I assume, was correct. Your Core and Meta Processors are incompatible. They’ve been that way for so long that errors and competing processes just kept piling up over time. And considering just how old you are, sister, there was a lot of backup.”

 

“Why was I in so much pain…?” Arcee was unsure if she actually wanted to know the answer. Her spark sank when the doctor sighed deeply.

 

“That was partially my fault. I used a dose of cyber-venom to knock you out,” She averted her gaze as a pang of regret flowed from her unusual field, “I didn’t realize how much damage… he did to your Cerebral Core. Combined with the state of your processor, your spark almost… went out. If I had known, I wouldn’t have hooked directly into your Core. I am… sorry.”

 

“Oh... I see.”

 

This was a lot to take in. However, even if this situation wasn’t ideal, she didn’t actually mean to hurt her… much. Plus, Arcee’s head felt amazing. There was still the feeling of wrongness in her frame. But the crippling cerebral pain she’d been experiencing was gone. 

 

“Um… who are you?” 

 

“Who? Little old me?” Her voice became as haughty as it was playful and all of her eyes blinked owlishly at the Autobot, “Surely you’ve heard of me?” 

 

Running a memory search, she quickly found the femme's profile. 

 

“You’re-” But the Decepticon cut her off as she stood to her full height, throwing her arms open wide. 

 

“I am... Blackarachnia!” She proclaimed with a wicked grin. 

 

Arcee involuntarily burst into giggles. While fairly silly, her pose definitely showed off her powerful build and ample curves. This Decepticon was arguably the most beautiful bot Arcee had ever seen.

 

“Hey!” Blackarachnia put her servos on her hips indignantly, “What’s so funny?”

 

“You.”

 

“Tch, watch it honey.” The doctor pointed at her menacingly with a clawed digit before she sat back in her rolling chair, “I am not funny.”

Notes:

This concept for what Blackarachnia was up to on Cybertron has been one of the major conceits I had in mind for this story, along with Arcee transitioning. If you have questions worry not, I'll be focusing on her extensively in the next chapter. It wasn't until I was about halfway through writing this that I realized I'd turned Blackarachnia into Tae Takemi from Persona... I'm not sorry.

I'm familiar with the whole Jhiaxus situation in the IDW comics and I have mixed feelings about it. That being said, I wanted to make as many parallels between the two continuities Arcees as possible because I think what the comics came up with for her was super interesting and unique.

I hope you liked this chapter.

Chapter 8: If The Mold Fits

Summary:

Blackarachnia has a surprise for her new patient.

Notes:

So I realized this chapter that I have described the Metroplex as being more of a city and not a big building where all the important bots hang out. I couldn't find any specific mention in the lore of what the city around it is called, so for my purposes I'm going to call it Metroplex City. If correct name comes to light I'll just go back and change the name later.

Arcee had been missing for two solar-cycles. 

 

"Where are you...?"

 

Something bad had to have happened to her. Sari firmly believed they'd have heard from her if she was alright. Even if she had wanted to leave, Arcee would have come back to say goodbye…

 

Flying high above the streets of Metroplex City, the techno-organic scanned the metropolis with every sensor built into her tiny frame. She'd set her propulsion systems to automatically fly along the grid she had created for their search. It actively let her organize their combined efforts while her equipment did the rest. 

 

That left her with nothing to do up here but stew on her thoughts. Alone. For hours. 

 

Somewhere down below was Ratchet, searching the city at street level. The rest of Team Prime had been looking as well, but they were eventually called away for other duties. She knew they were busy building an entirely new government program from the ground up. That didn't mean she had to like it. If it were up to her, the city would have been turned inside out already.

 

But despite her zeal, there wasn't a trace of their friend to be found. It was like Arcee just up and vanished. And after spending almost every waking hour searching, Sari was exhausted.

 

That just means someone has her. The blue femme had already been through enough. She didn't deserve to be hurt at all, let alone by some rando that took her off the street. They would find her safe and sound. Then they'd do everything in their power to get her treated.

 

We have to find her... Sari just couldn't imagine what would happen if they failed.

 

She and Ratchet had already been going over the treatments they used for other bots with dysphoria. They'd hoped some of the process could be replicated to help their friend. Having looked at the data herself, she could already see a potential problem. 

 

Usually the incompatibility was identified early on, before the sparkling settled into their final mold. That way, they could appropriately adapt the bot’s frame and programming development before the dysphoria caused their systems too many issues. 

 

But the treatment was only developed after the great war had ended. It literally had never been performed on Cybertronians who weren't still in their early stages of life. 

 

This piece of the puzzle had led Sari to the first mystery about her friend and her unique situation. 

 

Arcee’s file from Cybertron Intelligence said she had been online before the war had even started. But her file didn’t even have an online date for her. It just said her birthday was unknown. 

 

The first record of her existence was an application for a teaching school in Crystal City. From there, her life on Cybertron had been pretty standard, at least until she joined the Autobots. 

 

“Where did you come from…?” She muttered to herself, “And where did you go?” 

 

Her comm system pinged as a call from Ratchet came through.

 

“Find anything?” She asked evenly. It wouldn't do to get her hopes up. 

 

“Kid, you better get down here.”

 

Oh no. Ending the call, she found the medic’s location on her map and swooped lower between the tall buildings. 

 

Ratchet was standing on the side of a deserted street in a fairly rundown neighborhood. When Sari landed beside him, he was frantically typing on his forearm computer and didn’t even acknowledge her arrival. 

 

“What is it? What happened?” She asked, waving her arms in front of the old bot to get his attention.

 

“This.” Spinning the holographic readout on his wrist console around, Sari began to read the message on the display. The sender was unknown, but it held a set of coordinates and a couple lines of text.

 

“If you want to see her again, meet me at the coordinates in twenty breems exactly. I’ll know if you tell anyone besides the techno-organic…”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Blackarachnia grinned deviously after having just sent her little ‘invitation’. 

 

She had returned to Cybertron for a singular purpose. Until Arcee had showed up in her waiting room, her original projections had her timetable taking somewhere between two to five stellar-cycles. 

 

The possibilities her newest patient added to her calculations had cut that time in half. The risks, however, were also drastically increased. 

 

“You know what they say,” the Decepticon said to her monitor, “no risk, no reward.”

 

“Um… did you say something?” Arcee asked from her position on the medical berth. 

 

“Oh, nothing really.” She spun around in her chair to face her patient, “More importantly, you have a decision to make.”

 

“I-I do?” The Autobot's helm tilted in confusion as she rolled over to her side and handed her a data pad.

 

“You need to decide what color you want.” 

 

“What color I…” As Arcee sat up and examined the diagram on the display, she took a sharp intake vent, “Is that… really me?” 

 

“It sure is sister.” She confirmed and leaned back with her arms crossed, trying to gauge the femme’s opinion, “What do ya think?” 

 

She had given Arcee a preliminary design for her new femme-framed mold. 

 

While she had repaired the damage and decay in her systems, the underlying problem causing her dysphoria, as the Autobot called it, still needed addressing. A temporary bypass was keeping her symptoms minor for the moment, but she would still need major remodeling. 

 

“It still looks like me.” She was just staring at the display with wide blue optics and a blank expression on her silver face plates. "Huh."

 

That's it???

 

“...Of course.” Blackarachnia felt somewhat put out by the mediocre reaction, “You should still be you… do you want to look totally different?” 

 

This femme was baffling. She almost never reacted how the Decepticon expected her to. 

 

“Yes! I-I mean… no.” The Autobot closed her optic lids as uncertainty pulsing in her field, “I don’t know…”

 

“Well, in my professional opinion,” She retorted snidely, “If the new mold and internals are too different, your new Meta processor won’t synchronize properly. And let me tell you, that is the last thing you want to happen.”

 

Arcee’s optics brightened with understanding.

 

“Oh! I think I get it! Are you going to copy and alter my current one so you can implant it in a new one?” She was speaking loud and fast, field brimming with excited energy, “You’ll be able to adjust it just enough that I’ll adapt instead of rejecting it as foreign! That’s brilliant! I just didn’t think that was possible…” 

 

Blackarachnia stared at her with wide optics, mouth hanging open in shock.

 

“H-How the fuck did you know that?!” She snapped, irritated at having her thunder stolen.

 

“Oh! Uh…” Arcee flinched and wrapped her arms around herself, “I just… figured it out when you said why I needed to look similar. Was I not supposed to do that...?” 

 

“No! I... ugh!” She averted her gaze from the her patient's pitiful expression with a grunt of frustration. “I just didn’t expect you to. Anyway, do you like the design or not?” 

 

The blue femme studied the pad with narrowed optics, frowning slightly. Not wanting to rock the boat and further, Blackarachnia waited patiently, carefully watching the subtle movements of her facial plates.

 

The new mold would still accommodate her sleek, four wheeled alt-mode. Her helmet remained rounded with a short crest, but her new face had larger optics and small, plump lips. The size of her breastplate was reduced and now gently sloped downward in the front. 

 

Her abdomen and hips would be a slender, hourglass shape with heavier skirt plates on the sides of her waist. Both her arms and legs would be slimmer, but her lower stabilizers needed to be thicker to accommodate her more top heavy frame.

 

Overall, her body mass would end up being reduced and would also result in a flatter car mode. Being too much lighter would throw off her new Meta processor, so the two pods on her back would end up larger to account for extra kibble. 

 

Eventually, Arcee's softly glowing blue optics crinkled softly, and she looked up with a small smile.

 

“I love it.” 

 

Blackarachnia’s spark flared in her chassis as her cheeks flushed a dark purple. Her patient looked back down at the design, still smiling. Thankfully, Arcee didn't seem to notice her emotional reaction to the high praise.

 

For several more kilicks, she merely studied the Autobot, attempting to process the unusual pulse she was experiencing. 

 

I fell… warm.

 

Her life had been hard. It had been a long time since her spark had felt anything besides cold determination and burning rage. Anything else wasn't necessary to keep her online. Blackarachnia did what was necessary, and she was fine with that. She was good at that. 

 

However, for that brief moment, she had felt an emotion that had been absent in her spark since she was a full Cybertronian. 

 

Hearing Arcee say that she loved the design… it made her feel happy .

 

“Oh, by the way doc…?” The Autobot's voice startled her from her contemplation.

 

“Hm? What is it?” She asked, tilting her helm with curiosity.

 

“What does ‘fuck’ mean?”

Notes:

I was soooo looking forward to this chapter. I love how it turned out.

Chapter 9: Pretty in Pink

Summary:

Arcee makes her decision.

Notes:

I absolutely love writing these Arcee and Blackarachnia scenes. So expect there to be lots more. But don't worry, Sari and Ratchet will still be our other main characters.

 

“Pink.”

 

“Pink? ” Blackarachnia was looking at her like she’d suddenly grown wings.

 

“Yes.” Crossing her arms over her breastplate, Arcee stared her down. She had decided, and there was no way the doctor would convince her otherwise, “With the same type of white accents I have now.” 

 

“B-But… not even pink and black?” A small frown turned down the Predacon's lips and disappointment leaked into her field.

 

“Hmm… I hadn’t thought of that.” Holding her chin in one servo, she closed her optics and tried to imagine herself like that instead, “I like the idea, but for now I want pink and white.”

 

“Tch, fine. But there’s no way I’m letting you be neon pink. I won't let a travesty of fashion like that happen to you.” Her sharp digits flew across the screen of her data pad as her optics narrowed in concentration. “I didn’t realize you were such a girly girl…”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arcee pouted, knowing a snide comment when she heard it. Especially one that sounded so reductive.

 

“Oh nothing... just something else I picked up from earth.” Blackarachnia answered innocently, with no small amount of humor in her field. After a few kilicks of working on the design, she handed the pad back to her, “How's it look now?”

 

Her heavier protective plates were now a pleasing magenta, while the more flexible ones on her abdomen, biceps, and thighs were an unusual shade pink-tinted-black. Just as she asked, white accents still decorate most of the new mold. Her face plates would be a soft pink with magenta lips. 

 

“Oooh…” Arcee cooed with excitement, surprised at how well stylized it was, “That looks wicked!” 

 

“Wicked, huh?” Blackarachnia smirked, field oozing self gratification.

 

“Yes. I liked that one.”

 

Earlier, the Predacon had found her inquiry about the colorful curse far too amusing. Instead of explaining what it meant, she had merely sent Arcee a document titled Fun Earth Words And Phrases. Eternally eager to learn new things, she had wasted no time memorizing the whole collection. Humans turned out to have a fascinating vernacular culture. It would probably help her understand the Earth Autobots better as well given how much alien slang they used in regular conversation.

 

“Well, that’s all I need from you for now. It’ll take me about thirty breems to get the supplies to make your mold, so just rest till then.” The doctor rolled back over to her computer console and began to work again, leaving her to her own devices. 

 

“Thirty breems…” Arcee murmured as she laid back on the berth. 

 

Everything had been moving so fast since she fled the Ministry of Decepticon Containment. There was no way her friends weren’t worried sick and looking for her by now. With nothing else to do but wait, she decided to try and get some answers.

 

“Hey doc, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” 

 

Blackarachnia had saved her spark and was moving forward with her transition, even without having been asked to. But Arcee wasn’t naive. This was a Decepticon of terrible power. According to the records of her time on Earth, she'd routinely put the lives of Sari and the Autobots in danger. If that wasn't bad enough, the mad doctor had tricked a desperate Autobot into letting her mutate him into a techno-organic. 

 

Arcee would have to be careful and plan her moves delicately. Otherwise, things could go badly for her very fast. All that being said, she'd yet to sense any hint of deception from her. 

 

“Hmm…” The techno-organic hummed as she considered the request, all the while continuing to type away on her computer, “I don’t see why not. But don’t be surprised if I decline to answer.”

 

“Fair enough.” She felt some elation at having gotten her to agree, “How long have I been here?” 

 

“About a solar-cycle and a half.”

 

Okay, so that means I left the MDC about two and a half solar-cycles ago… They’re definitely looking for me.

 

“Can I let my friends know I’m alright?” 

 

“Can you…?” Spinning around in her chair, the Decepticon tapped her chin in thought for a few moments. “Well, I would say that telling them you’re receiving medical treatment from an old enemy would be a terrible idea. Buuuut…”

 

“But?” Arcee watched her faceplates carefully, holding her vents in anticipation.

 

“I suppose I could send them an anonymous message telling them you’re being treated. How’s that sound?”

 

“Oh!” Shock pulsed lightly in her field, not having expected to actually have that particular request granted, “That sounds reasonable to me, thank you.”

 

Blackarachnia went rigid before she quickly spun back around to her console. But she wasn’t fast enough to hide the dark blush that peeked out from underneath her gold and black helm.

 

Heh, cute.  

 

“F-Fine then. I’ll send it in a few breems…” The doctor started working again, but irritation simmered in her field. "Tch."

 

Weird... Another strange reaction, but she had more pressing matters to bring up. 

 

“How much is this all going to cost me?”

 

“Why… nothing of course.” She answered, as if it were obvious

 

“W-What??”

 

That was definitely suspicious. It was inconceivable that a Decepticon would do all this for her out of the goodness of her spark.

 

“You came here for my help and I almost offlined you. It’s the least I can do.” While she elaborated, all four of her optics remained glued to her monitor, “Besides, you deserve to be who you want to be if at all possible. Take it from me, sister, it's the best feeling in the universe.”

 

Arcee stared at the back of her chitinous helm in shock. She had a knack for reading the fields and intentions of other bots. Even if the techno-organic wasn’t being entirely honest with her, there was no hint of deception or ill-meaning in her words.

 

She really meant that… At least, I believe she did. But, she had to be sure.

 

“You’re not… going to turn me into a techno-organic… are you?” 

 

Blackarachnia stopped typing. With a beleagured sigh, she slumped back in her chair. A deep note of melancholy rose to prominence in her field.

 

“No… I-I’m never going to do that to anyone again.” She said, voice full of grief and regret.

 

After a kilick of watching her do nothing more but sit there and stare at the floor plates, Arcee slipped off the berth. The Decepticon didn’t even react when she sat on the floor directly in her field of vision.

 

“Do you… want to talk about it? I won’t judge you, I promise.” She offered, pushing as much honesty into her field as possible.

 

Her four red optics finally focused on her. The way she'd been looking through her and not at her had started to worry Arcee.

 

“How can you promise that?” She asked in disbelief.

 

“Because... Because you saved my spark, and my future. The very least I can do is be a good listener for you.” She hoped some of the doctor’s own words would help persuade her. The amount of pain and fear radiating from Blackarachnia made her spark ache.

 

“W-When I…” She spoke haltingly at first until a small amount of static came from her vocalizer.

 

The techno-organic femme broke optic contact and started wringing her servos together. 

 

“When I performed that experiment, I was desperate. I’d been searching for a way to turn myself back for almost a thousand stellar cycles. Cramming as much xenobiology and medical knowledge into my fleshy processor as I could. But every time I felt like I was closing in on a solution… I would fail spectacularly and almost die. And I always hurt someone in the process.”

 

Arcee hadn’t expected the Decepticon to pour her spark out to her like this. However, considering how long she’d been running and fighting to survive all on her own, it wasn’t entirely surprising. In her experience, having the chance to voice your feelings to someone else could do a person a world of good.

 

“Transforming Wasp into a techno-organic was the culmination of all my research. But in the end, all I succeeded in doing was ruining another bot’s life. What happened to me was…” She took in a heavy, shaking vent before continuing, “It was an accident. Even if Optimus and Sentinel had come back for me, it wouldn’t have solved my problem.”

 

Wow.

 

Arcee was no therapist-bot, but she recognized a big step forward in trauma recovery when she heard one.

 

“I realized I truly was the monster everyone made me out to be.” Blackarachnia said numbly, once again staring at nothing. "Go figure."

 

“That’s not true!” Arcee snapped and shot her pedes, glaring into her red optics “You were hurt and alone. Yes, you made terrible decisions. You tried to hurt others like you had been hurt. You turned to the Decepticons because you had no one else to go to.”

 

The doctor looked at her with blown wide optics and her mouth hanging open.

 

“You had countless chances to kill the Autobots on Earth. Yet every one of them is still online. Even if you're overcharging them, you've made the lives of the bots around here better by being such a good doctor.” She spoke with certainty, hoping her resolve would leak into their merged fields, “A monster wouldn't have saved me from their own mistake, let alone try so hard to help me. Even if… even if you have ulterior motives, that doesn't nullify the good you're doing.”

 

“I- Uhh... don't know what you mean...” Blackarachnia averted her gaze, trying and failing to retain her aloof attitude.

 

“Oh honey," She sighed and gave her a knowing look, "I'm not nearly as dim-sparked as I seem. Besides, you are a Decepticon after all.”

 

"Tch, whatever..." Despite her disgruntled huff, a small grin briefly spread across her fanged lips. 

 

Maybe... just maybe, I can take this a little further. Ever so slowly, she reached out and gently laid her servo overtop of Blackarachnia’s own where it rested in her lap. 

 

The doctor said nothing in response. All she did was stare at their touching servos with a frown and scrunched optics. 

 

After a few kilicks, she sighed softly and interlaced their digits together.

 

For the first time since their conversation began, the churning turmoil of Blackarachnia’s shattered spark held veins of warmth that mingled with the pulses of their combined fields. A gentle calm settled in her mind as Arcee savored the soft texture of her clawed servo in her own. Never in her millions of stellar-cycles of life did she expect to feel this... intimate with any bot, least of all a Decepticon.

Notes:

These last two chapters have without a doubt been my favorites so far.

I'm curious what you all believe out of what Blackarachnia has said. All I will say is just like the show, my version of her makes use of lies, half-truths and honesty to interact with other bots. But she's not a psychopath like Shockwave or a deluded megalomaniac like Megatron. I believe this is where Blackarachnia's character arc should have taken her. Genius's like her are by no means perfect. But she spent so much time grasping for lines of hope that turned out to be false, that she would eventually figure out herself. I think the evidence for that transformation was being set up in the three seasons we did get, so that's what I wanted to build off of.

I hope you all have and will continue to enjoy them.

Chapter 10: A Tryp Down Memory Lane

Summary:

Sari and Ratchet set out to meet Arcee's mysterious kidnapper.

Notes:

I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you too!

“I don’t like this, kid.” Ratchet grumbled as he drove them outside the city limits. Sari sat in his driver seat, bouncing her stabilizer with nervous energy.

 

“Trust me, I don’t like it either…” She agreed, “But we don’t have much of a choice. Whoever has Arcee can monitor us well enough to know who we talk to and what we’re saying.” 

 

“And you still want to follow the directions of somebot like that?”

 

“Of course not!” Sari was growing increasingly annoyed by his whinging, even if she understood where he was coming from, “I can go on my own if you don’t want to find her with me.”

 

“No! I- Scrap…” The medic released a beleaguered sigh that made his whole alt-mode shudder, “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t want you to get hurt when we walk into this obvious trap.”

 

“Yeah, Ratchet…” Pushing down some of her own nerves, she hugged his steering wheel tightly, “I know... We just have to do our best for Arcee…”  

 

Neither of them said anything more during the next few breems as they traversed the deserted lands that still covered much of Cybertron. There was nothing out here besides rusted plains, abandoned structures, and the occasional junk pile as far as the eye could see. 

 

As they neared the coordinates, Ratchet had to drive off the poorly maintained road and down into a shallow canyon. Sari had just begun to think they were being led on a wild grease chase when their destination became terrifyingly obvious. When the Autobot slowed to a stop, she wasted no time jumping out his door.

 

Once he had transformed to bot-mode, the two of them stared up at the cliff face with a mixture of awe and dread flooded their intermingling fields.

 

“By the AllSpark…” Ratchet mumbled in disbelief. 

 

“Ratchet, what- or who is that?” She desperately hoped he had some answers, because she couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of what they were seeing.

 

“I-I wish I knew…”

 

Bursting from beneath what was clearly the edge of one of Cybertron’s tectonic plates, was a titanic, reptilian head. The Cybertronian alloys it was constructed from were gray and lifeless. Where its huge optics once sat, there were merely empty sockets. Its frozen, toothed maw was opened wide enough to swallow Omega Supreme whole. 

 

Sari slowly began to walk towards it and activated her array of sensors. 

 

“Whatchya see, kid?” Ratchet asked as he followed behind her.

 

“It’s not just a head. Its body is buried beneath that plate. I’m not getting any life readings… but there’s tons of low-intensity electrical signals running through its insides.”

 

“Hmm…” The medic leaned down to look at the display on her gauntlet, idly rubbing his battered helm, “They look like basic power supply lines. Whoever has Arcee, they might be using this corpse as a base.”

 

“Maybe... Uh, hey Ratch? I think we have to go inside the mouth.” She stated, scarcely believing what she was suggesting. 

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Because there’s a sign.” Sari pointed at a small welcome sign welded to the thing’s lower jaw.

 

“Of course we do…”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

With no other choice, the two of them climbed the lower jaw of the head. What they found was a grimy hatch big enough to allow bots much larger than them entrance to the monster Cybertronian's  decayed internals. Once inside, they'd found another arrow directing them further inside.

 

“All things considered, I think this is the coolest supervillain lair we’ve been to so far.”

 

Ratchet was beginning to suspect that Sari was enjoying their morbid climb through the corpse of what appeared to be an ancient titan.

 

“Supervillain lair?” he asked dryly and arched an optic brow at her. 

 

“Hup! Oof-” She had just leaped across a deep hole in the corridor floor, but barely managed to grab onto the far side. After pulling herself out of the hole, she dusted off the fabric of her dress with obvious displeasure. “Yeah, I mean, who else would kidnap Arcee, send us a spooky message, and have us go inside the head of a bigass dinosaur! Gotta be a supervillain.”

 

“Your analysis of our-” The medic stopped his grouching long enough to leap over the hole himself, “-our predicament is truly enlightening.” 

 

“Why thank you, good doctor.” She preened with a haughty accent, “I do conc- Huh, that’s weird.” 

 

Having stopped in her tracks, she was intently focused on the display built into her gauntlet with a frown on her organic features. Sari had elected to kept her sensor systems at full power during their climb, hoping to get any more information before their mission went chips up. Discretely, he'd been hoping she wouldn't find anything. Whatever had gotten her attention, it probably wasn't anything good.

 

“What’s up, kid?”

 

“See these?” She pointed to her gauntlet's screen, showing a crude diagram of their surroundings. Tiny motes of light that each represented an electrical signal were moving around inside of the corpse’s deepest levels of internals. “What are they, Ratchet?” 

 

“I’m not sure…” The old Autobot carefully studied the slowly moving dots, recognizing them to be small machines, “They could just be swarm-bots feeding on the sub-circuitry… But we’d have to get a closer look to be certain.” 

 

“Damn… guess we just have to cross our fingers and hope they’re not hostile.” Sari shrugged and hopped onto the maintenance ladder at the end of the corridor, “Come on, the power lines are more concentrated up ahead.”

 

“Knowing our luck, they probably are hostile...” He muttered to himself before following after the tiny femme as she climbed.

 

It only took them a few kilicks to reach the top of the maintenance shaft. It opened up into dark, empty space. They climbed up into a dimly lit circular chamber. In the center was a cylindrical console with several large monitors. A red emergency light above the closest screen was the only keeping the space from being pitch black. So far, that light had been the only evidence they found of anything being activated inside the corpse.

 

"Why is that the first thing we've seen that's actually on?" Sari began to walk towards it, but he held his servo out to stop her.

 

“Because we're right where the kidnapper wants us to be. Get ready to fight.” Deploying his electromagnets, Ratchet activated his combat mode and began to actively scan the chamber for threats. “This could get ugly…” 

 

“Right!” The techno-organic deployed her helmet and arm blades before giving him a thumbs up. Giving her an approving nod, the old Autobot took the lead as they walked towards the monitor beneath the light. They had almost reached the console when all of the monitors flashed to life simultaneously. 

 

“Scrap!” Retchet fell into a combat stance beside Sari, ready to intercept any attacks that came from the darkness that still lurked in the corners of the chamber. But when nothing jumped out at them, and the screens continued to display nothing besides bright static, they shared an uneasy glance. 

 

“Alright whoever you are!" Sari shouted into the room, radiating anxiety through her field, "Stop hiding and give us back Arcee!"

 

“No, I don’t think I will.” A familiar, husky voice spoke from the console as the static one monitor faded into a image. Optics flashing red, the grinning visage of of none other than Blackarachnia became clear as day.

 

“You?!” Ratchet recoiled in disbelief, “What in the name of Primus are you doing on Cybertron?”

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“And what did you do with Arcee?!”

 

Rage exploded from Sari's heart-spark. If Blackarachnia was involved, that didn't bode well for any of them. Once again, she posed a dire threat to her family. To an extant, had sympathized with the Decepticon's struggle in the past. But when she routinely inflicted pain those around her to make her feel better, she lost any good-will Sari had to offer.

 

“Hm? Ohhh you mean my newest patient?” The villainous femme sneered.

 

Newest… patient? Sari remembered all too well what she'd done to Wasp in her selfish crusade to get rid of her organic half. The implication that Blackarachnia had been experimenting on Arcee had her seeing red. 

 

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER YOU BITCH?!” Sari screamed and fired a plasma bolt at the screen.

 

“Sari, stop!” Ratchet yelled as the monitor exploded in a shower of sparks.

 

“You should listen to him, squirt.” Blackarachnia sounded incredibly pleased with herself as another monitor lit up, also displaying her smirking face. 

 

But Sari wasn’t thinking clearly. She was worn out from days of stressful searching. Arcee's disappearance had taken a heavy toll on all of them. Despite having only known her for a short period of time, Sari had cried been crying herself to sleep, missing her newest friend. Needless to say, she had officially been pushed to her breaking point. 

 

“FUCK YOU!” She shrieked and blasted apart the newly lit monitor, “Let her go or when I find you, I’ll pull your legs off one by one until you do!” 

 

“Don’t get your cyber-panties so twisted, kid.” Blackarachnia snipped from yet another monitor, sounding much less amused this time.

 

Before Sari could angrily destroy another screen, her body was caught in a magnetic field that locked her in place.

 

“What the hell, Ratchet?!” She barked and glared at him, "Let me go!"

 

“If you don’t calm down, we’ll never get her back.” 

 

The old medic stared into her eyes with hard expression, exuding cold resolve from his field.

 

“SHIT!” she cursed, but stopped struggling against the magnetic hold on her limbs. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She'd let Blackarachnia get under her skin, and that wasn't helping her friend at all. After getting her breathing under control, Sari sighed wearily, “O-Ok, I’m done…” 

 

Ratchet finally released her from the field. She collapsed to her knees, feeling utterly spent. Normally she would have objected when the medic her up into his arms, but she welcomed the comforting physical contact and leaned against his broad chestplate.

 

“I assume we didn’t come all this way so you could take us offline.” Willing to let him take the lead for now, she was content to sit quietly in Ratchets and glare cold fury at that Decepticon, “Otherwise we wouldn't still be having this conversation.”

 

He's right... dammit. 

 

They had yet to be on the receiving end of any hostile action from Blackarachnia. Instead, she'd just sat there and silently watched them.

 

“Mm, very astute doc.” She winked with both eyes on one side, “You would be right. Though, seeing how high strung I made little miss pigtails-”

 

“Eight-legged bitch…” Sari muttered just loud enough for the Decepticon to hear.

 

“Sari…” Ratchet admonished, prompting her to huff indignantly and cross her arms.

 

"I apologize for nothing."

 

“As I was saying..." Blackarachnia gestured to her left as one of the screens turned into another video feed. "I imagine you’re here to see this…”

 

“Arcee?!” Sari and Ratchet yelled out simultaneously. 

 

Their friend sat upon a medical berth idly kicking her legs as they hung off the side. The camera was placed somewhere above her in a large room cast in soft light. It seemed likely she wasn't aware they were watching, given how Arcee merely stared at something offscreen. However, Sari was pleasantly surprised to see that she looked untouched, unrestrained and even quite lively as she rocked lightly in place to tune they couldn't hear.

 

“Ratchet…” As overwhelming relief built in the hybrid's exhausted mind, tears gathered in her eyes. “She’s... okay.”

 

“Y-Yeah-” Apparently Ratchet was also deeply affected as their merged fields flooded with happiness, causing his vocalizer to stutter, “She really… is…”

 

“You two really care about her..." Blackarachnia said, but her voice no longer held any of the mocking or superiority it had only minutes before. "Don't you?"

 

“Of course we do!” Sari retorted angrily, “She’s our friend. You wouldn’t understand how worried we were about her…”

 

“...You’re right...” 

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“What do you mean 'we're right'?” Ratchet asked, wary of her unusually subdued behavior. In the past, Blackarachnia had shown a penchant for last minute betrayals and surprise attacks. This could still be a ruse.

 

But the Deception closed all four of her optics and sighed heavily, before reopening them with a noticeably dour expression on her purple and black faceplates.

 

“The last time I felt worried about someone else... it was over a thousand stellar-cycles ago. I don’t-” She hesitated a moment, biting her lower lip as she averted her gaze, “I don’t remember what it felt like.”

 

Sari looked up at him with a bewildered expression.

 

Even if he was curious about her dramatic shift in attitude, it likely wasn't wise to fully engage with whatever she was playing at.

 

“What do you want, Decepticon?”

 

“Tch.” Blackarachnia scowled and wrapped her arms around her abdomen, “Fine. You want to know so bad? I want amnesty.”

Notes:

We're getting closer to the end of the first arc (Theoretically).

In terms of story structure and the future of this fic, I'm intending on writing three main parts. Transforming Arcee is the first part. I'm also planning on two story arcs per part.

Let me know what y'all think! Of my plan for this story or just about the chapter.

Chapter 11: Communication Breakdown

Summary:

Sari and Ratchet stand their ground before Blackarachnia.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING
A character engages in self harm this chapter. I will place a row of asterisks before the self harm starts and right after its finished if you want to skip it.

“You can’t be serious.” Sari deadpanned.

 

“I am quite serious.”

 

All four of Blackarachnia's red optics were still. Focused. Her tone was level and even, with none of her signature smugness or innuendo. 

 

“Even if we thought you deserved amnesty, which for the record I don’t,” Ratchet stated firmly, causing her optics to narrow, “why would we ever help you get it?”

 

Blackarachnia said nothing initially. She just stared at them, tensely working her jaw back and forth, as if she were grinding her teeth together.

 

“Because if you don’t, I won’t perform the procedure Arcee needs to transition. And you'll never find where I have her hidden."

 

Sari sucked in a horrified breath. 

 

They'd been expertly played by the Decepticon. As much as she hated to admit it, if there was anyone skilled enough to help their friend, it was her. In one hand she offered a future they were beginning to think was unattainable. And in the other… 

 

“If you think we’d let you touch Arcee after what you’ve pulled-” Knowing exactly what one of Ratchet's 'You can go fuck yourself rants' sounded like, she interrupted him. 

 

“You have to let us be there so we can make sure you won’t experiment on her.” She demanded, standing up in the medic's arms. "Or no deal."

 

“Sari!” Ratchet stared down into her eyes, aghast at her words, “We can’t trust her! Look what happened to Prime every time he even tried. She’s trying to trick us!”

 

“Even if she is Ratchet,” Sari reached up to hold his face in her hands, “We said we would do whatever it takes to get her help, didn’t we?” 

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Well yes! But-” Sari stared into his optics with a determined look in her piercing blue eyes. The strength of her resolve spread through his field, silencing any objection Ratchet tried to come up with. 

 

“Trust me.” Sari smiled softly, “We’ll make it work. She can do this for Arcee. And we’ll get her amnesty. Somehow.”

 

"Ugh..." The medic's achy frame sagged in defeat, "Then... that's what we'll do. For Arcee."

 

“W-Why…? I don’t understand…!” They turned to look at the Decepticon when she spoke in a pained voice. She was holding her helm tightly between her clawed servos and squeezing her optics shut, “You were ready to kill me just a few kilicks ago… But now you’re actually agreeing to my demands?” 

 

*********

 

Blackarachnia's techno-organic frame shook with tremors as she dug the tips of her claws into her helm. The sound of them puncturing through the chitinous material could be heard over the speaker.

 

“W-why?!” She choked out, opening her optics wide and driving her claws further into her own head. Droplets of pink energon began to run down her purple from beneath her helmet. The still glowing fluid ran along the undersides of her jaw before the multiple streams began to collect at her chin. “I-I-I don’t… g-get it…”

 

“Stop that right now!!” Sari shouted, startling the Decepticon enough that her unfocused gaze found them again, “If you destroy yourself, you won’t be able to help her!”

 

“Wha-” Blackarachnia blinked a few times in confusion before she winced in pain. He could actually hear the wet schunk as she extracted her energon tipped claws from her helm. She stared at her shaking servos, aghast at what she had just done to herself. “I… I…” 

 

********

 

Sari leapt from his arms onto the console and snapped her fingers a few times in front of the screen, glaring daggers at the other femme. 

 

“Tell us where you are, right now. We’ll go along with your plan. But, you have to let us be there for Arcee when you help her. Got it?” There was no room for argument in Sari’s command. 

 

The situation had long spiraled out of Ratchet's ability to control, leaving him reeling.

 

First and foremost, Blackarachnia's mental stated appeared to be dangerously poor. She just had some kind of dissociative episode right before their optics. And when she saw how she'd hurt herself, she wasn’t just surprised. She was shaken . 

 

Then there was Sari. Now both of them were beholden to working for a Decepticon. If High Command found out what she'd just agreed to, they would be charged with treason. Granted, Ratchet had been on the wrong side of accusations of treason before and come out on top. But this time, Sari was involved.

 

If they weren't careful, things could go very badly for all of them.

 

Despite all of that, he trusted Sari deeply. So he hardened his resolve. For Arcee and Sari.  

 

“Well, Decepticon?” Ratchet demanded as he stepped up to the monitor, “We’re ready when you are.”

 

Sari glanced up to give him a teary smile before turning back to the watch the screen.

 

“Fine.” Blackarachnia released a weary vent and slumped backward into her high backed chair, looking as tired as the rest of them felt, “Just… make sure you’re not followed.”

 

All of the remaining screens turned off at once, plunging the room back into darkness. Ratchet activated the headlights on his chestplate, illuminating the room once more. 

 

“H-Hey... Ratchet?” Sari turned and looked up at him with tears flowing down her cheeks. A fearful expression contorted her organic features as her shoulders began to shake. “D-Did I just make a huuuge m-mistake?” 

 

“Oh no…” Kneeling in front of her, Ratchet lowered his helm down and gently touched his forehead to her hers, “Sari, I am… so proud of you. You really showed her who's boss.”

 

Sari giggled a little, sniffling as she wiped away the fluids from her face with a sleeve.

 

“R-Really?”

 

“Absolutely, kid. I had no idea what to do… but you? After you blew a few things up-” Sari chuckled bashfully and scratched her cheek with a digit, “You were calm. Determined. I think you made the right decision. And who knows… from the looks of her, we might really be able to help the spider this time.”

 

“You know…” She smiled, looking deeply into his optics, “I think you might be right.”

 

The the faint sound of light, metallic taps drew their attention to the plating above their heads. Something fell from the ceiling and landed on the console with a tink sound. Ratchet pointed his headlights towards the object, illuminating a small mass with thin limbs that wriggled in the air. 

 

“What is that?” Sari strode across the console and crouched down beside it.

 

It was small, only about the size of one of the teenager’s servos. She reached out and scooped it up in her hands.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“It’s a robot spider! Cuuuute.”

 

The tiny purple and black arachnid stood on eight spindly legs in her palm. It's body was spherical with four red optics that glowed ever so slightly. Held between its golden pincers was a data stick that it held aloft as it hopped in place.

 

“Is that for us?” 

 

“Must be instructions on how to find her.” Ratchet mused.

 

“Thanks little friend.” Plucking the data stick from its mandibles, she deposited the drone back on the console. Before it went anywhere, Sari reached down and scratched the spider's outer casing. It closed its optics and wiggled beneath her digits. When she finished, it scuttled off into the some of the exposed circuitry between the monitors. "I didn't know Blackarachnia could make something so adorable.

 

“Hey, kid... Look.” Ratchet pointed at a dark hole in the ceiling. 

 

It took her a moment to adjust the filters in her eyes, but she quickly spotted four tiny red optics shining from deep inside.

 

“Woah. Another one...?” Sari had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't the only one watching them either. After scanning the rest of the room, she sucked in a sharp breath out of surprise. “Ratchet… they’re everywhere.”

 

Thousands of miniscule red optics shone from every nook and cranny around the dilapidated chamber. 

 

“Ahem. Well kid…” Ratchet said after clearing his vocalizer nervously, “I think we figured out what was moving around inside this corpse.”

Notes:

I really struggled with how I wanted this scene to play out.

Should I make their negotiations more serious? More cut and dry? More tense? How would Sari and Ratchet handle her demands? Would they resist or relent easier? Would Blackarachnia be more suspicious or relieved by their acceptance?

These were all questions I wrestled with. I knew (mostly) how I wanted the outcome to look, but getting there in a way that felt just right...

Either way, this is how its going to happen in my story. As usual, Let me know what y'all think!

Chapter 12: A Crown of Pain

Summary:

Arcee waits at the Decepticon's clinic for her to return from an errand.

Notes:

Everyone ready for hurt/comfort? I know I am.

“I’ve got a rust infection in my stabilizers somethin fierce.” The old, teal plated explained over the intercom. 

 

“Uuuh, yes. I understand, sir.”

 

Arcee anxiously swiped through the data on the medical pad the doctor left for her. It contained a staggering library of detailed information on diagnosing a condition as well as what treatment to provide. When Blackarachnia had asked her to mind the clinic while she went out for supplies, she'd hoped no one would actually show up.

 

“You the doc?” His voice was deep and gravelly, reminding her of an old drill sergeant from the Elite Guard. Watching him over the hidden surveillance camera in the waiting room, the Autobot stared at the intercom with a perplexed expresion as he held his square chin in a servo. "Ya sound… different today."

 

“Oh! Um, the doctor is out on an errand at the moment.” That much was true, but much to her mounting anxiety, the Decepticon was long overdue. “I’m her… assistant! Yes, the doctor's assistant.” 

 

Scrap! I gave away her pronouns. She cringed as the words came out of her vocalizer, recalling how Blackarachnia had specifically told her not to give away any tidbits about her identity. She’s gonna be so mad...

 

“Hmm… wouldn’t have guessed the doc was a femme.” He mused aloud, idly scratching the side of helm with a digit. “Well? You got something for rust or what?”

 

“Yes, sir!” She chirped in an attempt to sound more enthusiastic than nervous. “Give me just a few kilicks to get it for you.”

 

Arcee followed the inventory guide on the medical pad to one of the tall storage cabinets full of medicine. After opening it up and looking for the appropriate labels, she saw the shelf with the rust treatment close to the top.

 

“Of course it's up there…”

 

Sighing in frustration, she went to grab the ladder. She climbed as carefully as she could to avoid avoid disturbing any of the supplies. The last thing she needed right now was a clumsy mishap. The shelf was packed with various container filled with multicolored ointments, liquids, and powders. Seeing a row of bottles filled with an orange powder labeled ‘Rust Bath’, she grabbed one and returned to the waiting room control console.

 

“Alright sir, I have your Rust Bath powder.” She announced into the intercom, “It says you need to add it into a warm oil bath and let your stabilizers soak for one breem, three times every mega-cycle. This will cost… two hundred credits.” 

 

“T-Two hundred!” The old bot recoiled in surprise, “I don’t have that kinda cred!” 

 

“Oh, I see…”

 

What do I do now? Dipole’s words about the doctor came back to her. Despite general level of poverty her patients lived, she overcharged them for their treatments. Now she’s really gonna kill me… 

 

“Do you have one hundred fifty?” Arcee offered, hoping that amount would be sufficient for him and the Decepticon.

 

“Yes… I-I think I can manage that.” He sounded grateful, but uncertain, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.”

 

Aww…

 

“I’ll be fine. I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

 

Hopefully.

 

“Hey, thanks kid.” The teal mech pulled a few credit chips from the storage at his waist. 

 

Kid?

 

Arcee pressed the button on the side of the metal tray built into the wall and heard it slide out on the other side. The Autobot put his creds in and she retracted it. Placing the jar in from her side, she sent it back out to him.

 

“Well, see you later. I owe you one.” With a parting salute to the intercom, the Autobot left through the waiting room door.

 

“Thank the AllSpark that’s done…” She slumped into the doctor’s rolling chair, trying to let her anxiety run its course. The Decepticon's absence was beginning to seriously concern her. 

 

I hope nothing bad happened...

 

The sound of a wall panel sliding open made her jump. Spinning around in the chair, the hidden door the doctor had left through was wide open. After a moment the sound of scuttling sound preceded a large container emerging from the darkened corridor that seeming to be moving all on its own.

 

“What the scrap?” Arcee left the chair to approach the self propelling box. Only as she got closer did she notice dozens of tiny, thin legs sticking out from underneath. Curiosity peaked, she got down on all fours so she could look beneath while it moved slowly through the room. 

 

“Oh! Hello little ones.”

 

About twenty purple and black robotic spiders with red optics were all working together to transport the package. They stopped moving to look quizzically at her before continuing on their trek across the clinic floor. 

 

“Anyone come by while I was out?” The weary voice of Blackarachnia startled her from watching the small robotic arachnids.

 

Brushing off her servos as she stood from the floor, Arcee turned to the doctor as she came inside.

 

“Yes actually, it was this old-" But the poor state of the Decepticon cut off her train of thought and filled her field with horrified worry, "What happened to you?!”

 

Her helm bore several punctures in the chitinous plating, each stained with crusty pink fluid. Lines of dried energon ran down her face and jaw from beneath the lip of her damaged helm. 

 

“Nothing happened, ok?!” The doctor snapped, glaring down at her and optics flashing menacingly. But when Arcee instinctively flinched away from her, she turned away with a tired sigh. “Just… leave me alone.”

 

Blackarachnia trudged over to her chair by the intercom and collapsed into it. She sat there motionless with her optics closed, shuddering occasionally.

 

Staring after her in shock, Arcee tried to process what she should do about her injuries and erratic behavior. Even when she had opened up about her struggles, BLackarachnia was always sharp and collected. But now…

 

She’s in pain… and not just from her wounds. 

 

Arcee knew what she had to do. Grabbing a basic medical kit off the counter, she decided to start with a patch job for her damaged head. She walked behind the doctor and started pushing her towards the medical berth by the back of her chair.

 

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked irritably, but made no move to stop their forward movement. 

 

“I’m going to patch you up of course.”

 

Once they were beside the berth, she placed the kit on its surface. After opening it up, she started collecting the patches and disinfectants she would need. 

 

“I’m a techno-organic, we heal automatically over time.” Blackarachnia retorted, but continued to watch her work with barely focused optics. 

 

“I am aware. However, I also know your body is more fragile and more susceptible to diseases.” She had learned much about the nature of techno-organic Cybertronians from Sari. Finally having arranged the necessary supplies on the berth, she slowly reached up to remove her black and gold helmet. 

 

“Don’t!”

 

The Decepticon's claws flew up and grabbed her wrist joints in an crushing hold. 

 

“I- Shh!" Arcee winced as pain shot through arms. "I need to look at your wounds…”

 

But as Blackarachnia held her in place, she noticed dried pink energon encrusted on the tips of her purple claws.

 

“Oh sweet spark… you didn’t?” 

 

The other femme said nothing and averted her gaze, idly biting her lip with a fang. 

 

“Blackarachnia, please… let me help you.” She pleaded, being especially careful to keep her body language passive. All four of her red optics narrowed in concentration as she stared at the clinic floor. "I promise I'll be gentle."

 

“I…” She began to speak, but hesitated for a moment, “I don't want you to see underneath my helm.” 

 

“Huh? Why not?” She asked, keeping her vocalizer at a soft volume. Arcee could feel the Con’s arms shaking through their touching servos.

 

“I'm... hideous.”

 

Blackarachnia still wouldn’t look at her, preferring to keep her optics squeezed shut as she seemed to wrestle with the painful emotions coiling in her field. There was an undercurrent of a feeling she emitted that Arcee recognized all too well.

 

Self hatred.  

 

“I think… I understand how you feel.” She said carefully, steeling herself for a negative reaction.

 

“You couldn’t possibly understand how I feel!” The Decepticon snarled, glaring at her with flashing optics.

 

The plating of Arcee's gauntlets creaked under the pressure of her powerful claws. More pain flooded her circuits as she let out a strained gasp.

 

“M-My whole existence I’ve felt wrong. Broken . No one even acknowledged there was actually a problem with me until Ratchet and Sari saved me.” She was trying to stay calm under the intensity of the doctor’s anger, but it wasn't easy, “I’ve hated myself for so long. How could I not feel that way... when I never loved myself to begin with? Sound familiar?” 

 

Blackarachnia looked at her with wide, twitching optics and slightly parted lips. All the fear and anger had fled from her field, but was replaced with a heavy note of sadness. She released Arcee’s arms from her crushing grasp When her four optics focused on the digit shaped indents on her wrist joints, she recoiled in horror.

 

“I-I-I’m s-sorry…” She stammered and covered her face with both servos, “I d-didn’t mean… to hurt-”

 

“Shhh… I know you didn’t.” Arcee soothed and reached out to gently pry the Con’s servos from her face. “Just… let me help you, please?” 

 

Despite the anguish that still flowed readily from her field, Blackarachnia nodded her helm in assent and folded her servos in her lap. 

 

Reaching up, she gingerly lifted the black and gold helmet off the techno-organic’s head. Setting it aside, she was finally able to examine the puncture wounds from her claws.

 

Blackarachnia’s features were... surprising to say the least. 

 

Translucent black mesh covered her forehead and stretched over her entire cerebral core. Organic circuits that pulsed with softly glowing energon crisscrossed just beneath the surface of the thin material. Here and there small lights blinked at regular intervals in a variety of colors. Her audio receptors were tall and sharp, more akin to antenna than traditional sensors. Two sets of hooks protruded from either side of her jaw, reminding her of the mandibles of an arthropod.

 

There were seven surface level punctures around the crown of her cerebral core. Each had a thin line of crusty energon that down her facial plates. Taking a soft swab and dipping it in disinfectant, Arcee began to gently clean out the small wounds. 

 

The Decepticon sat there with closed optics, totally still while she worked. When the holes were clean, she took a small light and shined it over them. 

 

“Thank goodness.” Arcee released a sigh of releif, “The casing underneath your mesh looks intact.”

 

Next, she grabbed a small tin of sticky patches and placed one over each of the punctures. Dousing a cloth pad in disinfectant, she began to wipe the dried energon off her face plates.

 

“There we are.” Arcee declared with satisfaction when she finished cleaning her up, “What should we do about your helmet?” 

 

“Huh?” Blackarachnia startled, apparently having been zoned out for the duration of her patch job, “Oh, I can fix that… Arcee?” 

 

“Hm? What is it?” She had just been about to put away the medical kit, but stopped to look at the helmetless femme with a curious expression.

 

“Do you… want me to fix your wrists?” Blackarachnia asked tentatively, idly rubbing her chitinous arm with a servo.

 

“Oh! No, I think I’m ok.” She looked down at the indents, “They don’t hurt anymore. Plus, they're just going to get replaced soon anyway, right?”

 

“I suppose… I’m sorry… again.”

 

Arcee released a long, steadying vent as she ran her digits over the indents, trying to process a way to approach this situation. If there’s one thing Blackarachnia had a habit of doing, it was hurting others when she was in pain herself. She had been this way for far too long. 

 

After putting up the kit, she returned to the doctor side and sat beside her on the berth. 

 

“I know you didn’t mean to... but, thanks for apologizing anyway.”

 

Blackarachnia merely hummed in response before leaning back on the berth, propped up by her slender arms. 

 

The two them sat in each other's silent company for a few kilicks, processing things for themselves. Eventually Blackarachnia picked up her helmet and rolled her chair over to her workstation, presumably to begin repairs on it’s armor.

 

“I’ll be ready to start your procedure in a few breems. That package the drones brought in has everything I need for your new frame.”

 

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Arcee responded cheerfully, feeling excited once more. But the Decepticon merely shrugged without looking up from her repairs.

 

“By the way...” Blackarachnia briefly looked at her over her spiky shoulder pauldron, “We’re going to have company soon.”

Notes:

Woof. That was kind of a tough one. Blackarachnia is such a good, complex character in all of her incarnations. I really want to make sure I do her justice.

Also, I'm not exactly how this works, but i want to give Cranky_Tanky credit for the term 'sweet spark'. I'm not sure if they're the one who came up with or not, but I loved it so much in their fics. I think its just adorable.

Chapter 13: Ghost in the Machine

Summary:

Sari and Ratchet arrive at the clinic just in time.

Notes:

I'm so excited to post this! I know I say this a lot, but I love how this turned out.

TRIGGER WARNING
Some theme's of domestic abuse in this chapter.

“First- Hya! Arcee-!”

 

Optimus’s axe sliced through an automated training dummy. Before it's sparking pieces hit the floor, he had already moved on to the next target.

 

“Now Ratchet- Hrrg!”

 

Bringing down one of his huge pedes onto a paint turret, he crushed the entire device flat.

 

“-And Sari!"

 

His grappling launchers fired cabled hooks at the ceiling. Their claws dug into the metal plating as he jumped just in time to dodge a dummy’s hammer attack. Swinging across a deep gap in the training room floor, he released the grapplers and landed on the other side in crouch. 

 

A turret sprouted from the ceiling and immediately sprayed yellow paint in his direction, but he managed to roll out of the way and onto his pedes. Optimus threw his energy axe at the guns. Spinning end over end through the air, the humming blade buried itself between the barrels, causing sparks to rain from the ceiling. 

 

“Computer, end training course…” He ordered wearily as he walked to retrieve the axe. Prime had been here for breems, desperately trying to work off some of his anxiety. Not actually needing to reach very high, he grasped the long handle of his Ultra-Axe and ripped it from the destroyed equipment.

 

Optimus Prime was incredibly stressed out. He knew most bots thought of him as ‘stiff’ or a ‘worrier’. But he cared deeply for every member of his team and the fact that three of them were now missing was killing him. 

 

“Come on… get it together Prime.”  

 

For the next few kilicks, Optimus stood there at the end of the obstacle course in MDC headquarter's training room, steadily cycling his vents. A leader needed to be cool and collected, especially at times like this. 

 

“I guess I don’t feel like a very good leader…” He said to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Heya there, boss bot…” Bumblebee called out as he strolled into the training room. The normally energetic scout had been uncharacteristly reserved since both Sari and Ratchet failed to check in. 

 

Optimus felt his spark aching to hear his boastful enthusiasm again. 

 

“Hello Bumblebee.” He responded, trying to keep his vocalizer even toned. “What can I do for you?”

 

“Me and Bulkhead are all done for the day.” Caming to a stop beside him, Bumblebee gave the destroyed turret a wary look, “Look, umm… We were thinking about going out to look for them. Wanna join us?”

 

“Unfortunately, I still have some work to do.” Optimus released a frustrated sigh, “I just... needed to blow off some steam.”

 

“Yeah, that’s okay Prime… don’t blame ya.” He scratched the back of his horned helm anxiously, “I’m definitely looking forward to stretchin my wheels.”

 

“Just don’t go over the speed limit, Bumblebee.” Optimus reminded him smugly and crossed both servos over his chestplate.

 

“How did I know you were gonna say that…” He groaned in resignation, but still gave him a playful grin. Bumblebee turned and began to head for the exit, but paused at the door, “Just don’t over do it, you got me?”

 

“Yeah, I got you, Bumblebee.” Prime smiled fondly at his friend, “I’ll join you both when I’m all done.”

 

After do his best to clean up the half destroyed obstacle course, Optimus left to make his way back up to the office level of their headquarters.

 

In spite of his attempts to relax, Optimus sat back in his chair heavily, feeling the weight of his position more than ever. Leaning onto his desk and resting his face in his servos, he tried to center his addled processor before diving back into his pile of paperwork. 

 

Beep…  

 

Prime looked up in mild surprise at the sound of his console receiving a message. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Where do you think we are?” Sari asked as she looked around the dark, underground corridor. With her helmet lamps on, she could to see countless branching passageways in every direction. 

 

“We’re in the tunnels of old Cybertron…” Ratchet explained, keeping his attention on his wrist console as he led the way. “We found Shockwave hiding out down here. The network is so vast, just about anything could be lurking in these tunnels.”

 

“Why did you have to say it like that…?” She griped, earning a chuckle from the medic.

 

After a few more kilicks of walking, Ratchet brought them to a stop.

 

“We’re here.” Shining his chest lamps up at the ceiling, they illuminated a wide, square plate that jutted slightly from the metal around it. In one corner was a data port. “Guess that data stick is a key too.” 

 

“Do we have the keys to Blackarachnia’s house??” Sari asked facetiously, “This is too weird.” 

 

“Tell me about it.” Ratchet deadpanned. After he reached up and plugged the key into the data port, a small red light embedded in the plate blinked to life. After a micro-kilick, it turned green. The plate shifted above their heads as the data stick automatically ejected. 

 

What was essentially an industrial lift slowly lowered down from the ceiling plates. It came to a stop just slightly off the ground. 

 

Sari looked up to her friend as they eyed the elevator. 

 

“Going up?” 

 

“You first.” Ratchet smirked down at her.

 

She blew a raspberry at him and hopped on first anyway out of spite. 

 

Once the old Autobot climbed on after her, she hit the up button on a small control panel in one corner, causing the lift to start moving again. It brought them up into a dark warehouse that was filled to the brim with containers, leaving only a small amount of open floor space around them. 

 

“Hey wait a minute... I think we're above ground level.” Sari said as she activated her sensor network. “According to my map, we’re near a residential area on the outskirts of Metroplex City.” 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“She’s been right under our olfactory sensors this whole time…” Ratchet grumbled as anxiety filled his spark. 

 

“And she’s been busy! Look at all this stuff!” Sari moved among the mountains of stacked boxes and containers as she checked the labels on their outer casings. “Ship parts, medical supplies, engineering tools… What do you think she’s up to? I don’t see any weapons.”

 

“We’ll just have to ask her.” Ratchet headed for an unmarked door panel on the wall. Without the directions, he doubted either of them would have even seen it.

 

It slid open when they up to it, revealing a dimly lit corridor with pale yellow walls and a few more unmarked doors. The medic began to suspect the Decepticon's base of operations was deliberately designed to be obtuse. It just seemed like her MO.

 

At his nod, Sari followed him inside. Stopping at the door panel on the far end, he flipped the control switch on the wall beside it. 

 

It opened up into a wide, softly lit room. The far wall was dominated by massive computer. A bot wearing a white lab coat was seated in a highbacked chair in front of it, hunched over the console. But they only had optics for the room's other occupant. She sat on a complex medical berth that was built into the center of the chamber.

 

“Arcee!” Sari cried out before running through the door, making a beeline for the blue Autobot.

 

“Sari?!” She barely had time to call out the hybrid's name in surprise before she was tackled in a crushing embrace.  

 

“I missed you so much…” Arcee said tenderly.

 

“I-I’m so glad you’re ok!” Her small voice quivered as tears ran from her eyes. Eventually she broke the hug and looked up into Arcee’s blue optics with noticeable relief, “She didn’t hurt you, did she?” 

 

“No!” The blue femme answered quickly. A little too quickly. But she still wore a pleased expression on her silver faceplates. “I mean, she actually fixed me. Blackarachnia is a really good doctor!”

 

The moment Arcee said that, he noticed the Con visibly tense under her lab coat. But a few micro-klicks later, she continued to work at the console and pointedly ignoring them. 

 

Much as he wanted to join the two femmes' reunion, Ratchet elected to remain vigilant. Someone needed to keep an optic on Blackarachnia. She was hammering metal occasionally and using her spider legs to cut and sculpt something, seeming preoccupied. That didn't mean she couldn't still pose a threat.

 

Besides, Sari needed this moment with Arcee. She deserved it. As such, he was more than happy to shoulder more responsibility for a few kilicks.

 

“Are you sure she didn’t experiment on you?” Sari asked before giving her a once over, “You’re not already a bug are you?”

 

“Hehe, nope!” Arcee responded with a warm glance over to the spider, “All the damage from my dysphoria and… him... it’s all gone!”.

 

While he could see for himself that the former intel bot appeared to be in a reasonable state of repair, her statement about her internal injuries completely grabbed his attention.

 

“All the scarring and degradation are healed?!” He gasped, unable to keep the astonishment from his affecting vocalizer. Curiosity peaked, he stepped up behind the Decepticon, “You were really able to do that for her?” 

 

“Yup.” Blackarachnia spoke over her shoulder while her legs continued to work autonomously, “Took a while, but it needed to be fixed before we swap her into the new mold.”

 

“T-That’s incredible!” Ratchet exclaimed, practically vibrating on his pedes after hearing the news, “How were you able to repair her memory core completely without damaging the surrounding systems?”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arcee smiled, happy to see that her old friend was more interested in the doctor’s expertise than he was in being hostile towards her. She still held Sari in her arms, yet unwilling to let her go after being separated from the young bot for so long.

 

“Arcee... What are these?” The hybrid hissed as a burst of anger flowed from her field. 

 

Oh no.

 

Sari was glaring at the digit shaped indents around her wrist joints. Hoping to resolve this without alerting Ratchet, she hugged the tiny femme close and whispered in her fleshy audio receptor. 

 

“It was an accident! Please don’t make a scene about it.” She pleaded.

 

“She hurt you!” Sari retorted through gritted teeth and squeezed her frame tightly.

 

“Blackarachnia was hurt, and she had some kind of breakdown. She really didn’t mean to do it…” She understood why Sari was so upset. After all, Arcee wasn’t exactly pleased about it either. But the two of them had already addressed it in their own way. “Besides, she would have already fixed it, but... we’re almost ready to start.”

 

“But… ugh.” Sagging against her breastplate, the hybrid buried her soft face against her neck joint. “Fine. But if she ever hurts you again, promise you'll tell me. Deal?” 

 

“Deal.” She relented, finding her condition acceptable, “Thank you.” 

 

“Finished!” Blackarachnia yelled victoriously. Standing from her chair, the doctor spun on her heel struts to face her, coat flaring as she clapped her clawed servos together, “Alrighty then folks. Ratchet you can stay. Sari, hit the road.”

 

“What?!” The hybrid shouted indignantly, “There’s no way I’m going anywhere.”

 

“Don’t get so ornery, I just mean you gotta wait outside.” Blackarachnia retorted with devious grin on her fanged lips.

 

“Why does Ratchet get to stay and not me?” Sari stood at the edge of the berth, glaring at the other femme with her servos on her hips. 

 

“Because Bones over here can actually keep his mouth shut.” She deadpanned and arched an optic brow. 

 

“Am... am I Bones?” The medic scratched the side of his helm in bewilderment. Before she could protest her expulsion, Sari released one of her involuntary human ‘yawns’ instead.

 

“Sari,” She tapped the tiny femme on the shoulder to regain her attention, “Why don’t you go rest, you look like you haven’t recharged in days.” 

 

“Uh, hehe... well the thing is…” Idly poking her pointer digits together, embarrassment leaked into her field. 

 

“Sari…” She groaned sadly, taking a moment to examine her disheveled techno-organic frame. The red filaments of her human hair were noticeably grimy and there were dark circles under her optics, indicating a lack of rest. 

 

“Hey kid,” Blackarachnia walked over to the door that opened up into the yellow corridor and pointed to one of the rooms, “If you want, you can sleep in the overnight room for patients.”

 

...What?

 

“Well…” Sari yawned again and rubbed her optics with a servo, “I am pretty tired.”

 

“Wait! Everybody stop!” Arcee shouted, causing everyone to look at her. She fixed the doctor with an obstinate glare, “You have an overnight room for patients??”

 

“Well, duh.” Blackarachnia answered, tilting her head in confusion, “I’m certainly not going to let them stay in my room.” 

 

Arcee gaped at her.

 

“B-But why did you make me power down out here this whole time?!” She asked incredulously and gestured to the medical berth. 

 

“Because I like to watch you recharge.” But as soon as the words left her vocalizer, the Decepticon's cheeks darkened with heat as all four of her optics dilated. Now, everyone was staring at her with various levels of shock, “Did I… Did I say that out loud?” 

 

Uhh… what? Arcee’s cheek plates overheated while she sat rigid on the berth.

 

“Yeah.” Sari said, shaking her head disapprovingly, “That’s creepy.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Ok, sweet spark,” Blackarachnia rolled up beside her as the massive computer elongated and folded around the medical berth. “I’m going to put you into stasis first. Then, I’ll extract you from this frame and transfer you into the new one. It’s going to take a while, but by the time you come back online… Well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what happens then.”

 

“Will it… hurt?” She asked anxiously. Now that the doctor was hooking her up to the medical equipment, fear began to creep into her field. The brightness of the computer lights shining into her optics from above felt oppressive.

 

“Not at all.” The Decepticon reassured. She stopped working for just a moment to meet her optics and softly cup her cheek plate in a clawed servo, “You’ll be a little disoriented when you wake up, but that won’t last very long. The new frame will just take some getting used to.”

 

“Oh okay…” Arcee tried to internalize her words, savoring the softness of her techno-organic mesh on her face, “Thank you.” 

 

Blackarachnia smiled down at her affectionately, without a hint of mockery.

 

“Here we go, I’m putting you in stasis.” She announced, refocusing on her monitor as she started to type furiously.

 

Preparing To Engage Medical Stasis Lock Authorization: Blackarachnia

 

“I’ll be here the whole time, Arcee.” Ratchet leaned over part of the medical computer to give her an encouraging grin and a thumbs up, “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

 

Powering Down Primary Systems

Vitals: Green

Initiating Medical Stasis Lock in…

3…

2…

1…

Medical Stasis Lock Engaged

Notes:

As a note, I have no intention of having Blackarachnia engage in domestic abuse against Arcee.

That being said, as some who has deep behavioral issues and ptsd, there was a time when I took out my own pain on the people I cared about most in abusive ways. I'll always regret how I acted, but improving my own behavior and learning from my mistakes is how I grew as a person.

Its merely an aspect of this dynamic that I wanted to represent with my story for various reasons.

Chapter 14: Euphoria

Summary:

Arcee wakes up.

Notes:

Gosh this has been such a ride so far. I hadn't planned on powering through so much of this story so fast. But I've just been having too much fun to stop.

Teaching Unit RC-687-040

Ending Medical Stasis Lock Authorization: Blackarachnia

Core Processor Status: Online

Commencing Systems Check

Logic Processor: Green

Meta Processor: Green

Core Programming: Green

Synchronizing Memory Core: Complete

Running Sensory Systems Test

Equilibrium Sensors Online

Auditory Sensors Online

 

“...Hey there, soldier. Just take it slow.” Ratchet’s familiar, gravelly voice filtered through the haze in her sensors.

 

Optical Sensors online

 

Her new optics blinked open, attempting to take in the gloom of her surroundings as they calibrated for the first time. Arcee focused on the battered helm of her friend while he waved a scanner over her frame.

 

Vitals: Green

Energon Reserves: 58%

Combat Systems: Offline

Initiating Mobility Test

 

Her audio receptors picked up the familiar sounds of her plates and joints calibrating, but the feeling of them shifting was… different.

 

“W-Woah…” The wide, uncomfortably heaviness of her old frame was gone. She felt lighter and more delicate. But most significantly of all, even if she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, Arcee felt right for the first time in her long life.

 

“Arcee? How do you feel?” The medic asked, sounding slightly more curious than concerned.

 

How do I feel?  

 

She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position on the medical berth. 

 

Looking down, she took in her immaculate, pink frame. Turning over her servos this way and that, she wanted to take in every little detail of the carefully crafted armor. While she felt slightly top heavy, the sight of her slender form in all its glory turned her mounting euphoria into a tidal wave.

 

“I feel… amazing! Eh?! And my voice is so cute!” Just hearing her new higher pitched, but still soft spoken vocalizer, sent pleasant shivers through her circuits. Arcee turned and hung her stabilizers over the side of the berth, eager to stand on her new pedes.

 

“Arcee, wait!” Before she registered Ratchet's protest, she'd already slipped off the berth. However, she wasn't prepared for how much the heavier weight of her stabilizing servos would affect her balance. As such, her pedes tangled together as they landed, causing her to tip over and crash to the floor.

 

“Oof!... Scrap.” She grumbled into the scuffed metal plating, heat already flooding beneath her face plates.

 

“Mmm, I’d give you a 6 outta 10. Definitely could have stuck the landing better.” Blackarachnia commented snidely. Turning her head to the side, she saw the purple and black of her high-heeled pedes not far away. “Told you it would be a tad disorienting.”

 

“Gee thanks, doc.”

 

“You’re not helping.” Ratchet admonished as he leaned down to help her off the floor.

 

Once she was vertical again, Arcee tensed and took a moment to adjust her new frame. The satisfying feeling of getting to stretch out her well oiled joints made her groan with contentment.

 

“So…?” Blackarachnia was staring down at her with an eager expression, “What do you think?” 

 

Overcome by the happy pulses radiating from her spark, Arcee lunged forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. With her arms wrapped around the Con’s thin waist, she nuzzled against her breastplate affectionately.

 

“Oh, uh… Hm. Ok…” 

 

“Thank you, Blackarachnia.” she said softly and looked up into her red optics. 

 

“Y-yes, um… you’re welcome…?” Her clawed servos hovered near her shoulders, opening and closing like she wanted to touch her. Arcee found herself wishing he would.

 

“Ahem…” Ratchet loudly cleared his vocalizer behind them.

 

She'd been so caught up in her euphoria, and staring into the Decepticon's optics, that she had almost forgotten he was there too. Optics widening in embarrassment, she released the doctor and took a few steps back, scratching her overheated cheeks bashfully.

 

“Anyway , you should go see Sari." He said, pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the inner door panel. "Kids probably still recharging, but she wanted to see you as soon as we were done.”

 

“Speaking of recharging…” Blackarachnia slipped her servos in the pockets of her lab coat as she began to saunter towards the yellow corridor. “I need a nice, long recharge of my own. Later, Autobots.”

 

Arcee watched her slide open the panel and go into one of the right doorways. It snapped shut, leaving her alone with her old friend in the darkened clinic.

 

“Now, I may just be an old bot…” Ratchet said knowingly, prompting her to meet his gaze, “But I know a spark crush when I see one.”

 

“W-What are you talking about? That's ridiculous!” Arcee protested, gesticulating wildly with her servos, "She's just been a really good... friend to me is all. I'm grateful to her."

 

The medic chuckled, shaking his helm with closed optics and a soft grin. 

 

“Nevermind.” He responded, humor flowing from his field. Lazily waving a servo, he shooed her towards the open hallway, “Go on, you still need to tell the kid.”

 

“Okay…” She was more rattled by his observation than she expected. Before she stepped into the yellow corridor, Arcee realized she'd forgotten something. She turned back to her to look her friend in the optics, wearing a grateful smile, “And thank you, Ratchet… for everything.”

 

His heavy frame went stiff as surprise burst from his field. Averting his gaze, he rubbed the back of his helm with flushed cheek plates.

 

“Uh, yeah… Of course, Arcee.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sari dreamed she was riding around in the pilot seat of a massive cybernetic t-rex. She rained fiery destruction on the city of Tokyo and fought other giant robots, joyously wielding her immense power. But the visions suddenly began to fade into darkness.

 

Someone was shaking her lightly. 

 

“...Sari? Wake up, little one…” An unfamiliar, but soft feminine voice spoke through the fog of her restarting processor. 

 

Rubbing the sleep from her sore eyes with the back of her hand, she opened them up to see a pink plated femme with white accents leaning over her. Despite her combat systems alarm at the stranger's close proximity, a strong feeling of familiarity overrode her wariness. Initially, she couldn’t quite place where she knew her from. But then she noticed the slight crinkle in her softly glowing blue optics and the pulses of tenderness in her powerful field.

 

“Arcee?!” Sari sat bolt upright and grabbed the femme's new face in both servos, “Ohmygoshyoulooksooooopretty!” 

 

Her mentor giggled happily at her lightning fast stream of words. Unable to contain her mounting excitement any longer, Sari threw her arms around her slender, black-pink neck and buried her teary face into her shoulder.

 

“I-I’m so so happy for you!” Her sleep addled voice quivered as she spoke, “I missed you, Arcee...”

 

“I missed you too, Sari…” The two of them sat in the dim lighting of the overnight room, holding each other tightly and basking in the comfort of their merged fields. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Blackarachnia’s clawed digits tapped across the keys of her personal console in the shadows of her room. With a beleaguered vent, she sent the message with a final click and leaned back in her chair. 

 

Her plan was proceeding at an exponential pace. Letting Sari and Ratchet into her clinic was another risky decision she’d made since Arcee showed up at her clinic door. Yet, it was one that seemed to be already paying out. 

 

The Autobots were exactly where she wanted them: Firmly under her thumb. With every additional variable added into her calculations, the greater the potential for failure became. However, everything was going exactly according to plan. 

 

That is, except for the churning emotions in her spark. Lately, Blackarachnia had been experiencing feelings she'd thought were long gone, crushed under the heel of her misfortunes and poor decisions.

 

Even after she joined Megatron, no one had been on her side, forcing her to do everything on her own. But now... she wasn’t feeling quite so isolated. While Sari had been understandably antagonistic to her, but Ratchet was being downright cordial compared to their previous encounters. And Arcee... well. She couldn't recall the last time any bot had supported her like the pink femme had. It made her feel like she could take on the universe and win. And all it took was a slight shift in her modus operandi.

 

“All those stellar-cycles…” She mused aloud, draping an arm over her tired optics, “was I going about it entirely the wrong way? I just don’t know anymore…”

 

Her uncertainty was unusual. Her feelings were unfamiliar. But as anxious as she was, Blackarachnia felt good . Like maybe this time things would turn out differently… better even.

 

“Tch, like that’ll happen.” Standing from her personal station, she trudged over to the iridescent purple web that stretched across most of the room at a shallow angle. Crawling to the center, she curled up into a ball and drifted off into recharge. 

 

Blackarachnia seldom had dreams that weren’t filled with horrific imagery of pain and suffering that made each recharge more restless than the last. But this time, her unconscious processor flowed calmly with visions of pink plates under her caressing servos. 

Notes:

Here we are at the end of the first arc of Transforming Arcee. We've got one more arc till this part is done. It probably won't be as long as this first one, but it should be no less interesting.

I've already been doing lots of set up for the other two parts in these chapters and I look forward to bringing my plans to fruition. So I hope you've enjoyed Arcee's Trans-formation and I hope you stick around for more Transformers Animated goodness with a light IDW flavor profile.

Chapter 15: The Spider's Gambit

Summary:

For the Autobots, it's time to pay up.

Notes:

Ooooh dearie me this was a hell of a chapter to write. That's all you'll get out me for now!

Blackarachnia awakened suddenly and sat bolt upright in her web. Her internals were so overheated that her processor spun as she vented heavily. Taking a moment to cool off, she laid back on the web and stared at the ceiling with blown wide optics in a daze. While her dreams were regularly upsetting, this one had been unusually... intense.

 

“W-Where the fuck did that come from?”

 

There was no way she was interested in doing... that with her newest patient. But when the unwelcome imagery failed to dissipate from her mind, she groaned irritably and pressed the palms of her servos against her optics. What she was in desperate need of was a distraction. After sluggishly crawling off of her web, she sat down at her personal console. 

 

“First things first…”

 

The Decepticon brought up the surveillance feeds and began to flip through the channels. Ratchet was perusing her shelves of medical supplies in the clinic with his arms folded behind his back plate. She had to admit, hearing the medic gush over her medical prowess felt really good. It had been so long since someone treated her more like a colleague than a threat.

 

“Doesn’t that old bot ever sleep?” She wondered aloud. 

 

Next was the camera hidden in the overnight room. Arcee and Sari were cuddled together on the berth, just talking to each other. They almost reminded her of the human mother and daughter pairs she often saw on Earth. She wondered what it would feel like to be that close with someone.

 

“Almost time…”

 

Standing from her chair, she took a moment to stretch her sore frame. Being techno-organic required a frustrating amount of body maintenance to keep running properly. More tune ups. More nutrient supplements. More pains in her aft. 

 

Stepping into the hallway, she knocked lightly on the door panel to the overnight room. 

 

“Come in!” A muffled voice called out. Pushing the door open, she poked her head in and saw Sari sprawled over the top of Arcee on the berth. The pink femme looked up, giving her a smile, “Hi! What's up doc?” 

 

Part of her dream flashed through her processor. Arcee's face was above her own. Closing her soft blue optics, she'd began to lean in closer with her magenta lips slightly parted.

 

“Ugh!” She practically choked the first time she tried to answer her patient. “I just- Want to… talk. With all of you. At the same time. Soon. Like in five kilicks. Bye.” 

 

Blackarachnia slammed the door shut and covered her face with her servos to hide the dark flush.

 

Smooth.  

 

“GRR!” She growled to herself in the hallway. “What is wrong with me today?!” 

 

Stomping into the clinic, she pointedly ignored Ratchets curious stare plopped down in her chair. She was just about to start updating the inventory on her console when the sound of heavy pedes on the floor came up behind her.

 

“If you have any questions they’ll have to wait.” She warned irritably, not even bothering to look at him as she started to type with all of her limbs. “But when the other two get in here I’ll be oh so happy to answer them then.”

 

“Thank you for helping Arcee.”

 

The medic’s voice was stern, but the subtle pulses of his field carried notes of actual gratitude that washed over like a warm wind. It was startling enough that she stopped typing entirely and turned to meet his gaze with a bewildered expression on her features. 

 

“I... “ Blackarachnia hesitated, unsure how or what kind of response to give. Polite conversation wasn't exactly her forte. “You’re… welcome?” 

 

“Hehehe.” Ratchet chuckled at her, shaking his helm with a wry grin on his lips. "Close enough."

 

“Tch.” Scowling at the old mech as he walked away, Blackarachnia resumed typing. 

 

I am not funny.  

 

A few kilicks later, Arcee stepped into the clinic with a groggy Sari seated on her shoulder shoulder pauldron. 

 

“Alright bug lady,” The called out in a mocking tone and rubbing her fleshy optics with a servo, “you ready to monologue at us now?” 

 

“Cute.” She retorted sarcastically, “But... yes, I am, in fact, ready to monologue at you.”

 

“I’m confused…” The pink femme interjected, glancing between the three of them with confusion written all over her faceplates, “What’s this all about?” 

 

“She’s blackmailing us.” Sari blurted out

 

Tiny bitch! Blackarachnia seethed within the confines of her processor.

 

She'd hoped to get out in front of this discussion to avoid any... misunderstandings. But that plan had just been thrown right out the window and into a fire.

 

“Oh…” Sadness tinged Arcee's vocalizer as she looked at her with a pained expression. Blackarachnia couldn’t meet her intense blue gaze though, electing to stare at at the metal flooring instead. “I see. What is it that you want?” 

 

“I want… amnesty.” She answered with a tired sigh, “Because if I can get it, that means I’ll be able to legitimize my business and be the first Decepticon to resettle on Cybertron. My hope is that I will be an… example for others to follow.” 

 

The three Autobots' faces were varying levels of shock. The only one who didn’t look like she’d just kicked a small mammal was Arcee. Instead of open mouthed surprise like the other two, her optic brows were scrunched together and her magenta lips were pressed together in a thin line. A note of razor sharp curiosity carried from her powerful field, sending shivers through Blackarachnia's circuits

 

“That’s awfully… magnanimous of you.” Ratchet was the first to find his vocalizer, “What do you get outta this?” 

 

“Who, me?” Blackarachnia asked coyly, batting her optic lids playfully at the old bot, “Well, it means I won’t have to worry about my clinic being shut down.” 

 

“You expect us to believe you don’t have any other motives?” Sari narrow her optics out of poorly veiled suspicion.  

 

“Why, of course.” She pushed her fine tuned control of her frame to the limit, pushing as much authenticity into her field, facial expressions, and body language.  It wasn't necessary for them to trust her, or even believe most of what she was saying. She just needed them go along with her plan... for now. “What else could I possibly get out of this?” 

 

“There has to be something!” Ratchet leveled an accusatory digit at her, “There’s no way a Decepticon would do that out of the kindness of their spark.”

 

Smirking at the predictability of Autobots, she decided to trample right over their doubts.

 

“Oh I agree, but I’m really not much of a Decepticon when you get right down to it. Regardless of your potential… concerns about my motives,” she waggled a servo dismissively, “you’re already helping me. Besides, I did exactly what I promised to do in return, didn’t I?”

 

Sari and Ratchet shared a wary look. Their merged fields were rife with unease, apparently at an impasse with their own processors.

 

“What did you promise to do?” Flicking her gaze to Arcee, she was staring directly into her optics with a steely expression on her pink faceplates. An uncomfortable shudder threatened to ruin her composure, but she quickly brought it under control.

 

“Well... I-” 

 

“She made us agree to help get her amnesty,” Sari hopped off of the femme's shoulder and turned to meet her bewildered gaze, “and in return she would perform your operation. Or else.”

 

Again?! Fuck!!

 

Arcee narrowed her blue optics as anger began to simmer in her field. Directed at her.

 

Shit. Blackarachnia’s spark felt like it was being crushed. And there it is…  

 

For far too short a time, it had almost started to feel like they were all on the same side. As if someone was finally on her side. Honestly, the Decepticon should have known better. She had blackmailed Arcee’s friends, holding her future over their helms to get what she wanted. 

 

The dilemma she now faced was of her own doing. Arcee's procedure was complete. A carefully placed virus or explosive hidden in the femme's new frame would have given her the perfect hostage. But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do that Arcee.

 

Weak spark. She chastised herself internally. Always so idiotically weak...

 

Now, she would have to resort to threats. There was no way any of them would cooperate unless-

 

“I’m in.” Arcee announced with finality and folded her arms over her breastplate. 

 

“What?!” Ratchet and Sari responded in unison, gaping at her like she'd just sprouted an extra head.

 

Shock exploded from her own spark at the concession, and in a lapse of control, Blackarachnia's features scrunched in complete disbelief. Slamming the walls shut on her emotions, she was fairly certain they hadn't seen her momentary lapse. However, Arcee most assuredly did notice.

 

The pink Autobot crossed the clinic floor and stood before her. Her powerful field washed over Blackarachnia, assaulting her with the feeling of disappointment, but also... curiosity?

 

“I’ll help you get amnesty.” Arcee turned to look at the other Autobots over her shoulder. The Decepticon was having trouble reconciling the bubbly femme she'd grown fond of with the intimidating Autobot that loomed over her, “Someone has to repay her. It may as well be me. You two should go.” 

 

“What?! No way!” Sari protested, running up to her side and grabbing her servo.

 

“Neither of you can stop me from doing this.” She rebuffed the tiny Autobot with more steel her voice.

 

Blackarachnia watched the two femmes glare into each other's optics in rapt attention. After a few tense mirco-kilicks, Sari sighed tiredly and shook her head 

 

“Then I won’t let you do it alone.” She said, tightening her grip around her pink servo.

 

“I guess that means I’m in too.” Ratchet grumbled as he walked up on Arcee’s other side, “But I’m not happy about it.”

 

“Tch,” Sari scoffed and leered at the old medic, “When are you ever happy?”

 

“Lots of things make me happy.” 

 

The Decepticon's internals were overheated as her systems worked at full capacity to keep her frame and field under control. To say their willing cooperation had blindsided her would be an understatement. 

 

What. Is. Happening? 

 

The only explanation… No, the only variable in her calculations that could possibly account for this particular outcome was the short pink femme who was currently scrutinizing her with a stern, but even expression on her features.

 

“So, Blackarachnia?” Her soft, even voice immediately drew processor back into reality, “What do we do now? I assume you have a plan.”

 

Taking a brief moment to compose herself, she reached into her lab coat pocket and removed two data pads. She handed the first one to Arcee.

 

“I want you to go straight to Optimus with this. He already knows you’re coming.” That tidbit garnered her multiple surprised expressions, “It's essentially my request for amnesty, my reasoning and proposals for justifying it, as well as several offers of potential restitution I can provide.”

 

“But… why do you want me to bring it directly to him?” Arcee wondered as her optics flicked back and forth over the screen, apparently having wasted no time examining the pad's contents. 

 

“Because you are my most recent medical success and you’ve been missing for solar-cycles now.” the Decepticon explained, “He’ll be able to see with his own optics how beneficial my presence on Cybertron can be and get to reunite with his newest subordinate.”

 

“You two will go talk to Dipole at The Proton Blaster .” She continued, handing the other pad to a baffled Ratchet, “She can help you get depositions from the Autobots in the area who I’ve treated. This is a list of all my patients. I’d prefer not to say what I treated them for, but you’re welcome to check them out for yourself.”

 

“By the matrix…” The old medic muttered as he scrolled through the list with wide optics, “There’s over two-hundred bots on this list!” 

 

“Guess that means you should get started.” Blackarachnia grinned devilishly at him and steepled her digits in front of her. 

 

“Come on Ratchet,” Sari sighed from apparent resignation as she walked towards the hallway door, “Let's get this over with…” 

 

“And where are you two going?”

 

Ratchet and Sari had just reached the entrance to the yellow corridor she called out, prompting them to turn back.

 

“Uh, we’re leaving to go get your dumb depositions?” The hybrid retorted and raised a bushy optic brow. 

 

“You know you can use the front door, right?”

 

Both both of them stared incredously as she opened the corridor to the waiting room with the press of a button.

 

“There’s a front door ?!” Sari yelled, pull her pigtails in frustration “Then why did we have to walk through all those tunnels to get here in the first place?!” 

 

The sight of their unamused faces were so pathetic that Blackarachnia couldn’t help but cackle uproariously. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Having turned her back on the three Autobots before they had even left to accomplish their tasks, Blackarachnia savored the blissful silence as she got back to work.

 

As such, the sound of pedes padding softly across the metal floor behind startled her from her concentration and set off alarms in her combat systems. Spinning around, she came face to face with the Arcee's concerned expression.

 

“Wh-Why are you still here?!” Blackarachnia demanded as anxiety built in her spark on account of of their suddenly close proximity. 

 

“Because…” She spoke softly, looking down at the interlaced digits of her servos, “I wanted to tell you that I’m angry about how you used all of us.”

 

“Ah…" Averting her gaze, the Decepticon sagged into her chair, "I understand.”

 

“But, I also wanted to ask you something.”

 

“Oh?” That grabbed her attention. Blackarachnia looked back up into her beautiful blue, tilting her helm in curiosity, “And what would that be?” 

 

“You know that I trust you… right?” Genuine honesty radiated from Arcee’s field, filling her own with warmth as they merged. 

 

“Y-You… trust… me?” That finally broke the last of the doctor's carefully held control. Her confusion turned to anger as she shot her pedes and glared down the Autobot, “Why?! Why would you possibly trust me?!”

 

“As I said,” Arcee smiled sadly, “I knew you had ulterior motives from the beginning. And for the record, I know you’re still holding out on us.”

 

“Then… w-why..? ” Blackarachnia couldn’t keep the flaring guilt and shame in her spark from affecting her vocalizer. She squeezed her optics shut as her processor felt increasingly overwhelmed. Holding back the urge to lash out physically, she clenched her servos hard, digging the sharp tips into her soft palms, “Please... tell me why you still trust me? I don’t... understand...”

 

“Because…” Reaching up, Arcee tenderly rested her servos on her purple cheek plates and stared deeply into her optics with a small smile, “I would rather trust you and be betrayed, than not trust you when you needed me to.” 

 

Blackarachnia could hardly believe what her audio receptors were hearing. 

 

“But- You- How can you have blind faith in a Decepticon?!” She demanded to know, aghast at the naivety the Autobot was conveying.

 

However, Arcee just giggled knowling.

 

“I don’t have blind faith in a Decepticon, silly.” Standing on the tips of her pedes, she brought her white helm forward to rest against hers, “I have justified faith in you , Blackarachnia.”

 

“You… do?” She asked in disbeleief as Arcee's warm vents washed over her faceplates.

 

“Completely.” She reaffirmed without a hint of hesitation.

 

The two of them stood there for several kilicks, blue optics locked with red and fields intermingling. Blackarachnia couldn't find the strength to break the contact. It was a terrifying, but immensely comforting moment. Eventually, Arcee released her, clasping her servos behind her back as she stpped away.

 

"Well, I best be off. Wouldn’t want to be late for my meeting with Optimus Prime. See ya.” The pink Autobot winked at her and headed to the  waiting room corridor, swaying her hips with more exaggeration than normal.

 

When the panel slid shut behind her, Blackarachnia released a deep, beleaguered vent and slumped back into her chair. She pressed her palms tightly against her optics and growled out of frustration.

 

“I’m so impossibly fucked.”

Notes:

I basically had to finalize this wild plan that Blackarachnia has been playing. Or at least, how our three Autobots who've been caught in her web will be part of it.

The real question is, what is our Decepticon not telling us? And will her course of action betray Arcee's trust?

I'm the only one who knows so I guess you'll just have to wait and see :P

Chapter 16: Strange Bedfellows

Summary:

Sari and Ratchet head to The Proton Blaster per Blackarachnia's orders.

Notes:

More IDW style world building. You'll probably notice I've taken a lot of inspiration from a couple other notable timelines, but saying exactly which ones might be too spoilery.

“What do you think Arcee wanted to talk to her about?”

 

Ratchet had been concentrating on following his GPS while Sari sat in the driver's seat of his ambulance mode when she spoke up.

 

“I’m not sure...” He hummed in thought, “Maybe she’s trying to get more information outta the spider. If anybot could through to her, it’s Arcee.”

 

“Huh?” Sari titled her head quizzically, “What do you mean?” 

 

“Oh, uh…” Now he'd done it. In the past, Sari never seemed particularly interested in romance. He'd assumed her father would have at least talked to her about it before, but apparently that was another area where Isaac had fallen short. Though, as he decided to play his own comment off as innocent, Ratchet realized he wasn't much better, “Because she’s an intel bot, of course.” 

 

“Uh huh...” Sari arched an eyebrow at him. She didn't sound convinced, but after a moment, she shrugged and went back to staring out his window.

 

Eventually he brought them to a stop when they reached the address Blackarachnia had sent them along with the data pad. The neighborhood was more lively and less seedy looking than where the spider's clinic was located, though not by much.

 

“Look alive, kid.” He announced and opened his door for Sari. Once she'd hopped out, Ratchet transformed alongside her.  

 

“The Proton Blaster?” Sari eyed the ancient neon sign above the door suspiciously. “You like to hangout at the bars around the Metroplex. Been to this one before?”

 

“Doesn’t ring any bells…” His favorite dive had been shut down stellar cycles ago by that windbag, Sentinel. None of the others had yet to meet his particular standards. “Just don’t tell Prime I brought you here, eh?”

 

“And risk never getting to go to a bar again?” She retorted and grinned mischievously at him, “As if.”

 

Thankfully, the inside of The Proton Blaster was much cleaner than the outside. 

 

The furniture was an interesting collection of mismatched tables and chairs. A servoful of bots were drinking by themselves here and there, but it was a fairly quiet venue. The bartender was a massive red and blue bicolored Autobot built from connected spheres. She was speaking to a slender, pale green femme with a single stabilizer who leaned gracefull on the counter. 

 

“You know… this place doesn’t look half-bad.” Ratchet mused aloud as he looked around. idly rubbing his chin with a servo.

 

“Tch, I’ll never understand old bots…” Sari grumbled and headed for the bar's main counter.

 

“Heh, trust me, kid, you will eventually.”

 

The enormous bartender's visor focused on them and flashed blue light as she broke off her conversation.

 

“What can I get you?” She spoke with a deep, baritone voice and an unusual accent.

 

Sari jumped up on a bar stool beside him and leaned her elbows joints on the counter as she eyed the library of engex bottles arranged on the back wall.

 

“I’ll have-” She pointed to a twisted bottle  full of red engex near the top shelf, but Ratchet interrupted her.

 

“A glass of regular energon.” He requested and leaned against the bar. “Just an engex for me, thanks.”

 

“But Ratcheeeet, I wanna try some engex!” The hybrid pouted and looked up at him with shimmering optics.

 

“Nice try." Smirking in amusement, he gave her knowing grin, "You need a bit more mileage on your stabilizers first.”

 

"Damn." 

 

“Coming right up.” The bartender rumbled and started to pour their drinks.

 

“Hey… I know you two.” The pale green femme spoke with a liquidy voice and rotated on her stabilizer to face them, “You’re some of the Autobots who captured Megatron, aren’t you?”

 

“Yup! That’s us, sister.” Standing atop the stool, Sari struck a hands-on-hips pose, exuding confidence from her field. 

 

Primus help us… she’s already spending too much time around the Spider.

 

“So,” Depositing their drinks on the counter, the bicolored Autobot began to clean out some glasses with a brushes built into her servo, “what business brings a couple of heroes to my humble establishment?” 

 

“We were actually sent here to meet a bot named Dipole, know em?” Ratchet asked casually, trying not to sound too suspicious.

 

Places like this always flew under the radar of legality, so they’re owners tended to be a little jumpy. The bartender shared a queer look with the pale green femme. 

 

“Possibly.” She answered with a shrug, “And why would you need to speak with them, exactly?” 

 

“The doctor sent us with a mission.” Sari stopped sipping her glass of energon just long enough to blurt out their purpose.

 

Slapping his helm with a servo in exasperation, he released a weary vent.

 

Why do I even bother…  

 

“The doctor sent you?” Her visor narrowed as she glanced between the two of them, “Could you be more… specific?”

 

“Oh you know, the one a few blocks over with the creepy waiting room.” Sari downed the last of her drink with a satisfied sigh. "We're doin some contract work for her." 

 

“I see…” Idly tapping her round chin in though, the bartender considered them carefully before turning to the pale green Autobot, “Botanica, can you get Rattletrap to come in later? I’m going to need his assistance.”

 

“Yeah, of course Dips. I was just about to head home anyway.” The slender femme turned and left, gracefully gliding over the floor on her single wide pede.

 

“I take it you’re Dipole then?” Ratchet asked, feeling like they'd just stepped into something big. 

 

“I am. Do you have the list?”

 

“Wait a sec,” Sari interjected and leaned onto the counter, “You already know why we’re here??” 

 

“Indeed.” Dipole confirmed, “While new to this part of the city, the doctor is a valued member of our community. Most of us are ‘low class’ and have to wait far too long to be seen by the Autobot's medical centers. When she asked for a favor, I was pleased to oblige.”

 

“She?” The medic narrowed his gaze at her curiously, “So you…”

 

“Know her personally? Indeed I do.”

 

Ratchet shared flabbergasted look with his young friend. Apparently the Decepticon had been a very busy bug. Not wanting to beat around the engine block, he pulled the data pad from his hip storage and slid it across the counter.

 

Dipole picked it up in her three digited servo. She began to scroll through it, humming as she processed the information. Eventually she retracted the tip of her pointer digit to reveal a data port and plugged it into the pad. After a few micro-kilicks of concentration, she unplugged from the pad and slid it back to him.

 

“I have other bots ready to assist with the collection.” She explained evenly and started cleaning glasses again. "But I set aside a group of them for the two of you."

 

“You mean we don’t have to do all the work ourselves?!” Sari groaned in relief, “I like her already!”

 

“Mind if I ask you a question, Dipole?” There was a lot that bothered him about this whole situation. And while he wasn't likely to get all the answers here, he felt compelled to do some digging anyway. When the bartender grunted in assent, he decided to follow Sari’s example and be direct, “Why are you helping someone like her? You’re not worried about her stabbing you in the backplate?”

 

“Look,” She flattened her heavy servos on the counter in front of them, looming over them with her enormous bulk, “You Earthbounders haven’t been home in some time, so I will keep it brief.”

 

Earthbounders? That’s a new one. It wasn't clear how much about High Command had told the general population of Cybertron, but apparently they were more well know than he expected.

 

“Unless you are a member of the military or part of the 'upper class', the Autobot High Council would prefer to pretend like you don't exist. Out here, if we do not look out for ourselves, not bot will. If our continued survival requires us to cooperate with her... so be it. Now, I believe you two have somewhere to be, no?”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Hey Ratchet?”

 

While the drove to the first address on their list, he had been quietly mulling over their conversation with Dipole. But Sari's voice drew him out of his disturbing processes

 

“What’s up, kid?” 

 

“I didn’t know Cybertron had a class system..." She said, "Isn’t that usually a bad thing?”

 

“We don’t have a class system. Well... not anymore at least.” He answered grimly, “Back before the Great War, the Autobots segregated all Cybertronians into classes based on their alt-modes. Anybot who said differently was either sent to the energon mines or thrown in the gladiator pits. Primus help you if you were a repeat offender. But by the time it was over… There were too few of us left to worry about who was built with what frame and for what purpose.”

 

“Then… why does it sound like High Command is using it again?”

 

“I’m not sure…” Ratchet felt like he’d had the mesh pulled over his optics. "Discrimination like that is never good for anyone involved. Eventually, the bots who started the civil rights movement that fought the class system became the very first Decepticons".

Notes:

The Autobot "Leadership" always pissed me off when I saw them in the show. I really liked how the creators made Autobot ruled Cybertron vaguely dystopian, so linking it with their oppressive regimes in the past of other timelines felt like a logical leap to me.

Oh, and if y'all hadn't guessed by now, I'm a Decepticon through and through.

Chapter 17: Reunions

Summary:

Arcee arrives at MDC headquarters to deliver Blackarachnia's request.

Notes:

Original title I know.

Once more under the purple skies of Cybertron after being inside for so long Arcee stepped out of the alley and transformed on the empty street. 

 

“I have wings?!” She exclaimed, admiring long spoilers on either side of the rear of her chassis. Unable to contain her need for speed any longer, she kicked her engines into high gear. Wheels squealing on the road, she tore through the neighborhood and headed for the highway.

 

Her sleek alt-mode moved much faster than she was used to. Being lower to the ground allowed her to take turns at breakneck speed and deftly weave between bots with slower ground modes.

 

It took her no time at all to leave the outskirts of Metroplex City and even less to enter the military complex. Pulling up in front of the Ministry of Decepticon Containment, she transformed and stretched her brand new joints after the satisfying drive. Walking inside, she saw Bulkhead's huge frame squeezed behind the front desk duty.

 

“Hello! How can I help you?” He greeted brightly, wearing his signature grin.

 

“Hey, Bulkhead.” She replied cordially and headed for the elevators. "I'm in a bit of rush, so we'll have to talk later."

 

“Huh? Uh, wait! Excuse me!” The engineer called out, prompting her to halt with her digit hovering over the button. He scrambled out from behind the desk and lumbered up to her. “I’m sorry, miss, but you can’t just go… Arcee?!”

 

“Oh!" Finally realizing that he wouldn't have recognized, she slapped the side her of helm and gave him an apologetic look, "I'm so sorry Bulkhead I totally- EEP!”

 

Arcee squeaked in protest as he scooped her up in his oversized servos and hopped from one heavy stabilizer to the other as he danced gleefully, causing the room to shake.

 

“It is you!” He said as joy poured from his field. “Where'd you go all this time? You look pretty by the way.”

 

“Hehe, uhh…” Arcee giggled bashfully as her cheeks overheated from the compliment, “I found someone to do my procedure. Sorry I just disappeared.” 

 

“Aw, that's okay. Oh gosh! I didn’t mean to pick you up.” Bulkhead's silver face plates flushed as he gingerly set her back on the floor. “I’m just happy you’re ok. You goin to see Prime?” 

 

“I am! I actually have an appointment...” Turning back to the elevator, she hit the up button. "I think."

 

“Well he should be up there.” He said as the lift opened up, “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” 

 

“Yeah, thanks Bulkhead.” Stepping inside, a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Oh! By the way, Sari and Ratchet are fine!” 

 

Arcee barely caught the big mech’s grin as she yelled through the sliding panels as they closed her in.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"I hope he's not mad at me..." Arcee felt anxious as she pressed the bell on Optimus’s office door. Despite how she left, she was actually looking forward to seeing her new boss again. 

 

But when panel slid aside, a bolas flew through the open door and wrapped tightly around her frame. 

 

“What?!” She barely time to shout in alarm before a grappling hook latched onto the coils of the bolas and yanked her inside. Arcee hit the metal hard, landing next to a pair of large blue pedes with black treads. "O-Optimus?

 

“I’m only going to ask you once.” He snarled and lowered the humming energy blade of axe down to her neck joint, "Who are you and what have you done with Sari and Ratchet?

 

Well this could be going better.  

 

“T-They’re both fine!” She unconsciously flattened her frame against the floor to get further from the axe, “It’s me, Arcee!” 

 

“Huh? You’re not… Arcee?”  Optimus moved the weapon aside and crouched down beside her with a queer look on his faceplates. After a moment, his blue optics widened in shock, “Arcee!” 

 

Finally recognizing her, he uncoiled the bolas from around her until she was free. When he held out one of his servos, Arcee gladly accepted the offer, allowing him to pull her off the floor.

 

“I apologize for my rash behavior.” He said bashfully and rubbed the back of helm, “The message I received was so cryptic, I had no idea who was going to show up."

 

Arcee could almost hear the Decepticon doctor's mad cackle of amusement in her mind.

 

“That’s ok, sir. I understand.” After brushing herself off, she stood to attention and saluted, “Autobot Intelligence Agent RC-687-040 reporting for- Oof!” 

 

Her formal greeting was cut short when Optimus wrapped her in a surprisingly gentle embrace for a hardened warrior like himself. Heat instantly flooded her cheekplates.

 

“I’m just… glad you’re online.” He said softly before placing her back on her pedes.

 

“Uh, ahem!” Arcee cleared her vocalizer, hoping her blush wasn't too noticeable, “I’m sure you’ll also be happy to hear that Sari and Ratchet are okay as well, sir.”

 

“That’s wonderful news!” Prime responded with a bright smile, “Oh, and there’s no need for the 'sir', at least when it's just our team. Please, sit. I sincerely hope you're here to tell me what's going on.”

 

“Well, actually I am.” Extracting the doctor’s pad from her hip storage, she held it out for him to take. "But I think you’d better read this first."

 

“What’s this?” He wondered aloud, but began to read the document. The prime’s optics widened steadily as they flicked back and forth across the scree. Eventually, he looked up at her with disbelief agitating his field, “This- This is a request for amnesty from… Blackarachnia?!” 

 

“Yes, it is.” She confirmed, carefully reading his shifting expressions. If there was any bot who could helm them bring this to High Command and actually get it approved, it was Optimus. 

 

“So she’s really… alive? And on Cybertron right now ?” The pain in the Autobot's voice broke her spark. She just had to hope that, despite all she'd done, he still wanted to help Blackarachnia.

 

“Online and well. She opened up a clinic near the edge of the city.” Arcee elaborated, “From what I can tell, she’s been giving the bots over there near exemplary medical treatment for almost two mega-cycles. Including myself.” 

 

“Am I correct to assume we have her to thank for your new frame?” He asked and leaned back in his large chair.

 

“Yes! Ratchet oversaw the entire procedure.” She replied brightly, feeling warmth run through her circuits recalling all of their support, “The only thing she asked for in return was our help.”

 

“I see.” Optimus sighed and placed the pad on his desk. Spinning his chair partially around, he idly gazed out his window over the city scape, “Do you think… that she really means it this time?” 

 

Arcee wasn’t surprised by his question, but the amount of hurt pulsing in his field was unexpected. She knew the gist of what happened between them. First teammates, then enemies on a foreign world. However, their personal relationship seemed to run much deeper than was initially evident.

 

I wonder if they… No, not my business. Focus.

 

“Honestly... I know she has ulterior motives. And she's keeping them extremely close to the chestplate. But…”

 

“...But?” Prime prompted her quietly as he continued to stare up at the gaseous skies of Cybertron.

 

“I believe she's done fighting us. I can tell that she's bitter, and still in a great deal of pain. There is a danger she could lash out in unhealthy ways…” Arcee idly rubbed her digits together, remembering the feel of her soft faceplates beneath them, “But she’s also very tired. Even if she has some kind of grand scheme, I don’t think Blackarachnia will hurt us. Or the Autobots.”

 

Optimus Prime said nothing for several kilicks. He sat there with a gamut of emotions roiling in his field while he silently gazed across the spires of his home. With a soft vent, he turned back to look her in the optics.

 

“Every day I regret leaving her to behind, and for being unable to help her.” He stated sadly, but a smile eventually graced his handsome features, “That being said, I’ll never give up on her. Even if shebetrays us again... at least we tried. Tell her... tell her that she has my support.” 

 

“Really?!” Arcee jumped to her pedes and leaned over the desk, excitement bursting from her field, “Oh thank you, sir! I mean- Optimus- I mean..." Taking a moment to compose herself, she saluted him brightly, "You won’t regret it. We can make this work, I’m sure of it!” 

 

“I do hope you’re right.” He grinned warmly and gestured for her to sit again. “Judging by the… thoroughness of this document, I assume she already has a plan?”

 

“I believe she does. Sari and Ratchet are already doing some legwork, but she hasn’t told us what’s next yet.”

 

“And you?" Steepling his digits before him, he arched an optic brow at her, "How are you feeling, Arcee?”

 

“Me?” She blinked owlishly at him, feeling taken off guard by his interest, “I feel… good. Great even. Like I’m a whole bot for the first time in my life. But it’s still very new. And just a bit... scary.” 

 

She was elated with just how right her new frame and processors felt. So many things she'd done in past felt hollow. Like it wasn't actually her that had experienced them. A sort of simmering anticipation sat in her spark, urging her to get out there and live while she had the chance. 

 

However, she was also afraid. Not everyone would react with the same acceptance that Bulkhead and Optimus had. Sooner or later, some bot would inevitably lash out. 

 

And then there was the doubt. It still roiled like a predator waiting to strike in the back of her mind. Arcee was a femme now... at least, thats what she wanted to believe. But would something like a brand new frame even change that? What if she made a bad femme? Was there a chance that the would frame reject her sometime in the future? There were too many variables and not enough time to reason through them all.

 

Covering her face with her servos and hunched over in the chair, Arcee grappled with the surge of conflicting emotions that began to overwhelm her processor. Her frame was shaking as her vents came hot and heavy. System alarms popped up on her HUD, warning her of the affects her mental state was having on her new body.

 

What’s... happening? Why do I feel this way? How do I stop it?!  

 

“Take a long, deep vent for me, Arcee.”

 

Prime’s steady voice cut through her raging processes as a warm servo came to rest on her backplate.

 

“Focus on the sound of my voice. You’re safe. I… we are here... for you... anytime you need us.”

 

After a few kilicks, her overheated vents began to slow and her processor calmed. Finally uncovering her face plates, she looked up into Prime's blue optics with a tired smile.

 

“Thank you… Optimus.”

 

“Of course. By the way...” Returned to his large chair, he gazed down at her appraisingly, “Since you seem to be in good health, are you ready to return to duty?” 

 

“Oh! Yes sir!” She agreed automatically, but a note of uncertainty leaked into her field. “What are your orders?” 

 

“Nothing major, I assure you. But I’d like to put you in the front desk rotation to start. There's also the matter of your role on the team." 

 

“I see...” Arcee's spark sank in her chassis. Biting her lip, she folded her arms over her abdomen and averted her gaze, “I'm, not sure where to start... its not like I have a lot to offer.”

 

“Arcee…” Optimus frowned at her, “You’re an accomplished intelligence agent. One of the best. But that’s not exactly what I meant by 'role' either.”

 

Meeting his gaze, she tilted her helm curiously.

 

“Then... what do you mean?”

 

“Every member of our team has their own strengths and weaknesses. We work tirelessly to fight as a single, cohesive unit. We're sorely in need of your infiltration skills now that..." Optimus hesitated for a moment, but quickly shook it off, "However, you should also be prepared to operate on your own. According to your file, you didn't get to see much combat during the war, correct?”

 

“Yes, that is true…” Truthfully, she was glad that they'd never sent her on a combat mission. Arcee was a teacher. A nurturer. Taking another's life wasn't something she could even imagine herself doing. She had only gone through basic training when the war broke out. And if how easily the Decepticons took her out during that last mission, she likely wouldn't meet Optimus's expectations. "I'm not very good in a fight anyway."

 

“So, what kind of combat training would you like to take?”

 

“What… kind?” Arcee stared at him blankly, "I don't understand."

 

“Well, the Autobot military has several branches that engage in combat, such as the Elite Guard. Each can offer you a different set of skills depending on your preference." He explained goodnaturedly, "That being said, I do have a recommendation. Only if you're interested, of course." 

 

“Oh?” She perked up, silently thanking him for offering. Arcee didn't have the first clue what she would be good at. “What would you suggest?”

 

“I was thinking…” But he hesitated again, wincing slightly before composing himself. “You should train with the Cyber-Ninja Corp. It would certainly compliment your intelligence expertise.

 

“What.” Arcee was almost gaping at him, not entirely believing that she heard her superior correctly.

 

“Now to be clear.” Optimus held up his servos placatingly, “In no way am I trying to replace Prowl… Afterall, that’s impossible...” 

 

A pained expression contorted his faceplates as his word trailed off. That, and the grief permeating his field, made her realize that he misinterpreted her reaction entirely.

 

“Oh no! I didn't think that all. Sorry, I was just... surprised.” Folding her arms across her breastplate, she looked up at him anxiously, “I just… you really think I could be a cyber-ninja ?” 

 

Optimus Prime chuckled and gave her a small smile. Despite her own uncertainty, she was relieved when the emotions in his field began to even out.

 

“I know you could be an excellent cyber-ninja.” He stated confidently with a twinkle in his blue optics. The expression caused heat to flood beneath her cheekplates... again. "That is, if you're willing to put in the work. There are only a servoful of active members for a good reason.

 

Leaning back in her chair, Arcee tried to imagine herself as one of the storied cyber-ninja. Anyone who wasn't personally familiar with them viewed the enigmatic group with a mixture of awe fear. They were often heavily romanticized by the common bot. But the military had a tight lipped policy when it came to the reality of the Corp. She'd only gotten to work with one of them while she was an intel bot.

 

His name was Road Rocket. While he had certainly been a quirky bot, he was an incredible ninja. One she'd long since admired... and grieved for.

 

“I wanna be a cyber-ninja, sir.”

 

“Heh, I’ll arrange a meeting with Jazz.” Prime said, turning back to his console with a weary expression. “Now, if you don’t have anything else, you’re dismissed. I have a lot to do before we're ready to make a case for Blackarachnia.”

 

“Th-Thank you!” Arcee jumped to her pedes and saluted, unsure how else to properly express her gratitude. But an errant process occurred to her just as she opened the door panel. "For the record sir, I think you did reach Blackarachnia. It just may have taken some time to sink in...”

 

Arcee left the office, and though she didn’t hang around to see Optimus’s reaction, a swell of happiness pulsed from his field and followed her out. 

Notes:

This was an oddly difficult chapter to right. It felt unusually dialogue heavy for my writing, but Optimus was here and needed to be drawn into the scheme. I think he would be extremely accepting if Blackarachnia came forward and tried to make amends. He believed in her through the very last time they appeared together on screen. No matter how often she betrayed him, he cared enough to reach out to her every time he had an opportunity. I can't imagine a canonical Animated universe where he actually gives up on helping her.

Also I adore thinking of Arcee as like an assassin class type of fighter, so cyber-ninja corp is what she's getting!

Hope this one wasn't too tedious of a read. I had to rewrite it so many times XD

Chapter 18: One Frame at a Time

Summary:

Arcee returns to the clinic after her successful meeting with Optimus.

Notes:

I don't know about y'all, but I'm ready for more hurt comfort.

From his vantage point on the roof  of the MDC headquarters, Jazz watched the unidentified pink femme stroll casually out through the main entrance. She transformed into a compact speedster and drove away, leaving the Metroplex.

 

The cyber-ninja always kept an optic open for suspicious happenings. After all that’s gone down in the last few stellar-cycles, he decided to be extra vigilant around High Command. So, when his surveillance drones caught sight of a bot not in any database, it was his duty to check them out.

 

But Jazz hadn't expected to see the stranger visit Optimus’s new turf. 

 

“Crazy…”

 

Transforming into his stylish Earth car mode, he took off after her. Whoever this chick was, she was definitely fast. In fact, he was almost having trouble keeping up with her and staying under the radar. But Jazz was a professional.

 

After tailing her all the way to the outskirts of the city, he watched her transform and slip down an alley between a couple abandoned commercial buildings.

 

Over 4 million stellar-cycles had passed since the end of the Great War and Cybertron wasn’t even close to repopulating their world. There just weren't many new protoforms to go around these cycles. And with so many of their people offlined, places like this sparsely populated section of the city were everywhere. That also made them perfect pads to lay low in.

 

Getting a closer look was too risky, but he was a patient bot. After scaling a building on the opposite street, he focused his range-finding mod on the dark alley. 

 

The unknown femme was gone. 

 

“Where did you… ah I get you.” After flipping through the filters on his vizor, he spotted the infrared glow of a lamp all the way at the end. It was situated above a panel that barely qualified as a door. 

 

Jazz opened up his wrist console and called down one of his drones. After a few kilicks, the tiny drone drifted down from the sky to land in his open servo. It had a single large optic surrounded by a black and white casing with a few antenna protruding from its sides. When he discovered how closely they resembled the humans' organic eyes, he'd considered changing up their look. But in the end, they were too asthetically pleasing to redesign. 

 

“Alright little buddy…” He said affectionately while transferring new commands through their link. “Your job is to see everything there is to see about that warehouse, you dig?” 

 

The custom built drone was only semi-intelligent, but it beeped happily in agreement. After performing a dramatic loop above his helm, it zoomed off to start surveillance.

 

Satisfied with his recon for the time being, Jazz descended to the next street over before returning to Command at a leisurely pace.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arcee knocked on the clinic door and waited for it to open. Clasping her servos behind her back, she bounced slightly on the tips of her pedes, full of nervous energy. After half a kilick, the panel swung inward, finally allowing her entrance. 

 

As usual, the door slammed closed behind her. Arcee jumped when a burst of static preceded the intercom flaring to life with the Decepticon's distorted voice.

 

“Why did you come back?”

 

“Well, I thought you might… have more for me? To do, I mean.” She answered tentatively, feeling somewhat caught off guard. 

 

“I don’t." She paused, leaving the aging communication device to crackle in the silence. "Did you deliver my proposal to Optimus?”

 

“I did!” Finding the spot on the wall that housed the hidden camera, she flashed a grin, “He said you have his support!”

 

Blackarachnia said nothing immediately. Feeling a sense of Deja vu, she decided to wait and see what happened. Patience had won out with the skittish femme more often than not.

 

“You're welcome to leave. I already told the other two they could go home for today.”

 

“Oh… I see.” Arcee felt strangely unsatisfied by how the conversation had played out. An itch in her spark spurred her to say something else rather than leave. Something. Anything at all. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. You can always ask me. Whenever you like. I'll be happy... to help, I mean.”

 

Why am I being sooo weird right now?? UGH!! Spinning on her heel to face the door, she waited for it to swing aside. However, it remained closed. That's weird. Is it broken?

 

Stepping up to the panel, she tugged on the handle, despite never having seen anyone actually use it to open the door before. But it yet remained tightly sealed.

 

“Umm… hey doc?” Arcee tapped on the intercom reciever, hoping the doctor was still close enough to hear her. “The door won’t-”

 

“Doyouwanttostay?!” Her voice came out so loud and so fast, the sound cut out in her audio sensors briefly to protect her hearing. 

 

“Uh, one more time doc?” 

 

What’s going on with her?

 

“Do. You.” The sound of her releasing a deep sigh came through full of static. Then she continued, one word at a time, “Want. To. Stay... Here?” 

 

“Oh! Yes I’d love to!” Arcee chirped.

 

After spending a short few breems away, she was already missing the Decepticon. Getting invited to stay was a welcome surprise, but also exactly what she wanted. The words had no sooner left her vocalizer than the panel slid aside and allowed her inside the corridor.

 

She sighed in relief seeing that the other end already open. It wasn't that she didn't trust her, but the last Arcee had come in this way, she hadn't walked out. Stepping into the familiar gloom of the clinic, Blackarachnia was in her usual spot, hunched over her console and typing away.

 

“Hello, Doctor.” Arcee greeted her warmly as she walked up beside her. 

 

“Um, hi.” Barely glancing at her over her spiked shoulder, her four optics refocused on the monitor's display, “How’s the frame?” 

 

“Oh it's awesome!” Arcee practically bounced on her pedes she was so happy and eager to express it. “I can drive soooo fast now and Bulkhead said I looked pretty, but wait! The best part of all is that I actually feel pretty!”

 

“Well, good. Because you are definitely pretty.”

 

As soon as the words left her vocalizer, the doctor stopped typing and visibly tensed

 

“Hehe, um, thank you…” She made the strategic decision to not try and hide the blush coloring her cheekplates, “But, you designed my frame, so of course I’d be pretty.”

 

“Wait a nano-click, did I not tell you?” Blackarachnia spun around in her chair with both arms folded over her slim abdomen, “I didn’t design your frame all on my own.”

 

“I don’t understand... who else contributed?" 

 

“The design for your frame using an algorithm I created. That analyzed your core processor and extrapolated an appropriate expression of your frame based on the old one.” She explained, occasionally gesticulating with her clawed servos, “The only things I did were make minor adjustments and stop you from making disastrous paint choices.”

 

“Sooooo…” It took Arcee a moment to fully process the explanation, but her optics almost sparkled when she did, “...I helped design myself?”

 

“Bingo!” The Decepticon grinned and shot her with finger guns, “If I had any energon cookies you would have just earned one.”

 

“Woahhh…” Though she'd never done it before, the Autobot realized she was swooning, “You’re amazing doc!” 

 

“Huh?” Tilting her black and gold in confusion, Blackarachnia gave her a queer look, “I just told you the design was more of an expression of yourself than my influence.”

 

“Well yes of course! Knowing that this,” She gestured to her pink frame, “is really me? I can’t begin to say how happy that makes me!” 

 

“But…” Blackarachnia clenched and unclenched her servos as she struggled to articulate her processes, “...why call me amazing…?”

 

Her voice was so small and confused, the bursting positivity of Arcee’s euphoria settled into a dull roar in her spark.

 

“That’s a silly question.” She admonished in a gentle tone and leaned up against the console beside the other femme, “Because none of this would have been possible without your genius. I mean, who else could have created a program like that for someone like me? The Ministry of Science refused to even examine me because of how bad my condition was.”

 

Blackarachnia looked at her with wide optics, completely still and unmoving except for her shaking servos. 

 

Just as Arcee opened her mouth to ask if she was okay, the doctor leapt from her chair and bolted for the yellow corridor, lab coat billowing behind her. The force of her exit sent the rolling chair careening to the floor.

 

“Huh? Wait!” She reached out to grab her coat as she ran after, but missed. 

 

She'd almost caught up to the Decepticon, but the panel slid shut in her face at the last moment. Flipping the switch on her side, it reopened just in time to see the door to Blackarachnia’s room slam closed with a loud bang.

 

Arcee stared at the pale yellow door in shock. Confusion and hurt swept through her field as she tried to process exactly what just happened. But the emotions in her spark were too unsettled for her to come up with an appropriate explanation.

 

Alone in the quiet hall, she sat on the ground and leaned up against the opposite door, scrutinizing the closed panel.

 

Okay, think Arcee. She’d gotten the doctor to open up a few times already. How could she get her to literally open up now? Wait! I’ve got it.

 

“I forgot to tell you,” Arcee said aloud, hoping her voice carried through the panel, “Optimus is going to have me train with the cyber-ninjas! How cool is that?”

 

She waited a few moments, not expecting a response, but hoping for one none the less. When nothing changed, she decided to continue.

 

“I’m going to be such a bad ninja…” she chuckled at herself, "I hope you're ready to fix all of my embarrassing martial arts injuries."

 

“…You'll be fine…” she barely heard Blackarachnia’s muffled vocalizer through the metal door, but hear it she did.

 

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Arcee kept her tone as casual as possible.

 

“For one… being a cyber-ninja has more to do with willpower than anything else. And you’ve got more of that than the whole High Command council combined.”

 

Arcee’s cheek plates reddened, reflecting the state of her stuttering processor.

 

“Y-You really think so?” 

 

To her great surprise, the door cracked open just a bit.

 

“Well duh.” Blackarachnia’s voice was low and hoarse, like she was having trouble with her vocalizer, “Besides, your new frame has… nevermind!”

 

And she slammed the door shut again.

 

“No- Please don't go!” Arcee shuffled over to lean her face right up against the plating. “What were you going to say? Something about my frame?”

 

For a few micro-kilicks, she thought the doctor was out of reach again.

 

“…Y-You’re going to h-hate me… if I tell you...” Even with the metal between them, Arcee could feel the fearful pulses of her field penetrating the panel.

 

Uh oh. That can’t be a good... Releasing a nervous vent, she tried to stay calm. What could she have done to me...?

 

“Okay. Why do you think I’m going to hate you?” She asked, trying to start simple.

 

“…Because I… did something to you…" She explained slowly, almost like saying the words caused her physical pain. "Without asking…”

 

Dread began mounting in her spark as countless scenarios surged through her processor.

 

“What. Did. You. Do?”

 

Arcee was trying to be rational and keep her anger under control. She was 99% certain the doctor wouldn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t discount the possibility, no matter how small.

 

The door opened again. But this time, it swung all the way. Arcee vented sharply as the Decepticon's field washed over her in a wave full of raw terror.

 

Blackarachnia sat huddled on the floor, doused in the pitch blackness of the room. Her slender arms were wrapped tightly around her legs with her helm resting on her knee joints. Even from out in the hall, Arcee could hear the sound of her labored ventilator chugging away. 

 

The Autobot was no stranger to processor breakdowns. When subjected to the right amount of stress, anyone could reach their limit. And sometimes, depending on the bot, that made them especially dangerous. But Arcee needed to know what had been done to her. She was 99% certain the doctor wouldn't intentionally cause her harm. However, that didn't mean it was impossible. 

 

Carefully crawling across the floor, she folded her stabilizers beneath her and reached out with her servos. Blackarachnia flinched as her digits just barely brushed the side of her gold and black helm. But when no retaliation or rebuff followed, she slipped her digits beneath her face and lifted her head up to get a better look at her. All four of her red optics were unfocused and widely dilated. Just like before, the Decepticon seemed to be looking through her rather than at her.

 

“Can you hear me?” Blackarachnia nodded once, “Tell me what you did… please, Blackarachnia.” 

 

“I…” She tried to avert her gaze, but Arcee held her face firmly in place, “I gave your new frame... upgrades.”

 

“Upgrades?” Arcee repeated, just to make sure she heard it correctly. When her doctor nodded again, she sagged slightly in relief, “Okay, what did you upgrade? And how much?” 

 

“Well, I…” She appeared to be far more aware, but Blackarachnia still seemed out of sorts, “You’ve got better reflexes, stronger plates and an enhanced strength capabilities… about on the level of a Prime… Are you not… mad?”

 

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Pinching the bridge of her nose between her digits, Arcee was attempting to calm down after her near panic attack. “That’s really all you did?”

 

“Well… I also reinforced your Core Processor defenses.” The Decepticon rubbed the back of her helm with a servo in embarrassment.

 

“I only have two more questions.” Arcee took her face in her servos one more time and looked deeply into her red optics, “Why did you give me the upgrades? And why didn’t you ask me about them first?”

 

“I didn’t want.... anything bad to happen to you… again.” She could actually feel the temperature of Blackarachnia's soft facial plating heat up beneath her touch, “That and... I was afraid you’d refuse the upgrades because… I kind of… stole them.”

 

“Okay.” She released the Decepticon and leaned back on her servos. After taking a very long, deep vent, she delivered her verdict. “I’m mad you didn’t tell me. And I’m a little disappointed you stole them.”

 

“I see.” Blackarachnia said with drooping optics.

 

“But… you did it because you wanted to protect me. So I guess I can’t fault you for that too much.”

 

“Wait… you don’t … hate me?” She asked incredulously and narrowed her optics.

 

“NO! Of course not! I thought you’d put some kind of egg or parasite in me!” Arcee flicked the front of her doctor’s helm, causing her to flinch, “You’re such a Dramacon , you know that right?”

 

“But- But everybody hates me eventually!” She yelled, wildly gesticulating with her clawed servos, “I know you’re going to hate me someday too!” 

 

And with that last admission, Arcee finally realized what this was all about. Sorrow flooded her spark. It was abundantly clear that Blackarachnia had spent the last thousand stellar-cycles in emotional isolation. Reviled by by her own people for her disfigured frame and lashing out during her desperate attempts to regain some semblance of her old life. 

 

“Oh sweet spark, I don’t think I could ever hate you.” She scooted close enough that their stabilizers bumped together and reached out a servo to gently grasp her purple chin.

 

Arcee’s spark sang joyously within her chassis as she gazed upon this Decepticon. The song filled her frame with warmth and traveled out through her field. She found herself wishing that it would never end, even if that meant sitting on the floor with Blackarachnia for all eternity.

 

Oh. Oh dear.

 

Despite having been online longer than almost every other living Cybertronian, the moments that she was aware of were all tainted by her dysphoria. Each memory of her past was laced with a toxic bitterness that made her want to shove them into the deepest parts of her processor, just so she wouldn't have to think about them ever again.

 

But now things were different. Her chance meeting with Blackarachnia had undeniably altered the course of her future. Arcee simply couldn't imagine her life without her.

 

Scrap… Ratchet’s going to say ‘I told you so’. Arcee shook her helm in amusement just imagining her old friend's reaction.

 

“In fact…" Smiling at Blackarachnia out of sheer happiness, she gazed deeply into her wide, beautiful red optics, "I actually...  like you. Quite a lot.”

 

Oddly enough, Arcee wasn’t at all afraid to admit it.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Jazz's surveillance drone had finished it’s preliminary sweep of the premises several breems ago. It detected multiple anomalous energy readings and found that the warehouse was connected to a few of the neighboring structures by discreet passages that appeared to be recently constructed. 

 

But the alley door panel was the only external entrance it could find. Following Jazz's orders to the best of its abilities, the drone had perched upon its tiny landing struts at the roof’s edge on the opposite building with its single optics facing the alley. 

 

It had yet to record any bots arriving or exiting the site, but it was almost time to send its first data drop to headquarters anyway. The drone finished compiling the packet in its simple processor and prepared to transmit.

 

But something sharp suddenly pierced its outer casing.

 

A tiny robotic arachnid with red optics had pounced on the drone from behind and driven a pointed limb deep into its hull. The spider buried its mandibles in the drone's circuits before injecting it with a virus. 

 

After carefully repairing the damage it caused to the drone, the spider retreated into the shadows. 

 

When designated time arrived, the surveillance drone transmitted its data packet to Jazz right on schedule. 

Notes:

Now Arcee realizes what's up. If only Blackarachnia was there yet...

Anyhoo, I was kinda trepidatious about including this but I feel like it's something Spider Babe would do for someone she has a soft spot for. Even if the way she did it was kind of fucked up.

Blackarachnia softened up on Optimus overtime, but its clear she associates too much pain with him for a closer relationship with him to be constructive, at least for now. Within my story line, Arcee is the first bot she's gotten this close to since her accident. She doesn't know how to act whatsoever, but I want to show her personal journey as best as I can. That and I just love finding reasons for these two to grow closer.

Chapter 19: The Night is Dark

Summary:

Arcee and Blackarachnia have a conversation. One that could change everything.

Optics of the most entrancing blue gazed into her own with such.. tenderness that her spark ached beneath her breastplate. The soft brush of her pink digits traced the line of Blackarachnia's jaw, sending a pleasant charge racing through her circuits.

 

Arcee's powerful spark released steady pulses of pure joy that penetrated her field and seeped between the seams of her techno-organic frame. She had no idea a Cybertronian field could make her feel so much… warmth. Merely basking in the emotional heat made her processor spin.

 

While the mechanical nature of a Cybertronian's spark was well documented, the exact reason why one functioned they way they did was mostly theoretical. How could a charged cluster of positrons mixed with rarified energon to create sentience? Why did they contain programming that reflected individual characteristics? And why the fuck could another bot's electrically transmitted emotions make her feel so-

 

Stop it! No more science! Focus.

 

Blackarachnia prided herself on being the smartest bot in any given room. Unfortunately, all of her vast knowledge and wit did nothing to explain why Arcee's field felt like a searing blanket draped directly over her spark. The effect wasn't always immediate. Rather, it usually occurred when the two of them were in close proximity for extended time periods. It reminded her of how excess radiation rapidly caused her organic parts to deteriorate in an exceedingly painful fashion. But more... emotionally than physically.

 

Real logical there, honey. And I call myself a scientist...

 

Maybe it wasn't anything tangible. What if Blackarachnia herself was the problem? The Autobots all seemed entirely comfortable in her presence. Where for her, the emotional pulses the pink femme gave off made her either want to flee from the pain or let herself be consumed by their flames.

 

Was this the universe's way of punishing her for all she'd done? The Decepticon had meticulously crafted a database of all the people she'd hurt over the stellar-cycles, and even a short list of ones offlined by her actions. Direct or otherwise. Within a nano-klik, she reanalyzed the data in a search for any notable patterns. 

 

Well... shit. 

 

In the end, only two details were present in each situation. They were either in close proximity to or associated with an organic and... they'd had the misfortune of crossing paths with her. In fact, she found that the list of persons she hadn't harmed during the course of their meeting was far shorter than the other.  

 

And yet... exactly than 4.74 micro-kilicks ago, and fully aware of what kind of bot she was, Arcee had confessed her romantic feelings. To her. Blackarachnia, the hideous freak.

 

What the fuck do I even say to that? She averted her gaze, biting her thumb beneath one of her fangs while she continued to process. Now that I think about it, she wasn’t exactly being subtle.

 

Not that anyone who decided to be pink plated would be any variety of discreet.

 

In less than four stellar-cycles, the Autobot had gotten to know her better than anyone else since... Well, since Optimus. Sentinel never really cared what she thought. Or even how she felt. And still... Arcee offered her an outstretched servo whenever she needed it. A Decepticon.

 

She'd lived through the Great War. Seen Decepticons and Autobots alike commit the most heinous atrocities possible upon one another. Hell, what the Autobots had done to her specifically was just as bad, if not worse, than Shockwave's torture. If any bot had a right to be bitter about their people, it was those like Arcee. Blackarachnia couldn't fathom how she was still such a cinnamon roll.

 

What would an eternity with her be like? 

 

It was almost too sweet to imagine. But she did it anyway.

 

Big mistake.

 

FUCK!! I can't!!

 

There were officially too many variables at play. Blackarachnia still had much that needed to be done. Pieces were moving. And the proverbial sword had yet to fall. She could just regurgitate Arcee’s own words back to her. Play the part, get the girl, incorporate her into the plan. Just like everyone she'd ever met, Arcee would become another piece on her board.

 

Then you really would be a monster. It felt like her heart-spark was breaking inside of her chassis. She knew what must done. And for once... Blackarachnia decided that she was going to do something right. I have to be honest… damn.

 

It took all her strength to finally look up and meet Arcee's gaze. She sat there, closer than anyone had in over a thousand stellar-cycles. The soft blue glow of her optics shimmered in the dim lighting. Low levels of anxiety ran through the undercurrents of her field. Her plush, magenta lips were pressed tightly together in a thin line.

 

Here goes...

 

“I don’t know… what I feel.” Her vocalizer was struggling. The words were heavy and felt scratchy on her internals as they came out, “I don’t even know if I can feel that way anymore. I’m so… so sorry Arcee…”

 

There... its done. 

 

Blackarachnia forced herself to hold her blue gaze. She couldn't afford to give the Autobot any mixed signals. If her scheme went off without a hitch, bots were going to get hurt. And if things went worse... well, she didn't want Arcee anywhere near that. Letting her down soft and easy was the best way to-

 

“That’s okay.”

 

The Decepticon's processes screeched to a halt. Lips curling up in a soft smile, excess lubricant began to gather in the corners of Arcee's blue optics.

 

“You don’t have to do or decide anything right now.”

 

A bead of the lubricant spilled down her pink cheekplate.

 

“But… you just told me you have… feelings for me, right?” Arcee nodded, still smiling, “Don’t you expect me to say that I have feelings for you too?” 

 

The Autobot chuckled and shook her helm. Reaching out, she took Blackarachnia's clawed servos in her own.

 

“I don’t expect you to do anything at all, silly.” She began rubbing soft circles into her trembling palms, “I have feelings for you, not who expect you to be. Honestly, I would have been surprised if you had said you liked me too.”

 

Huh?? 

 

“What… do you mean?” Blackarachnia leaned towards the femme as curiosity pushed everything else out of the way in her processor.

 

“Well, I can’t say for certain, but…” Tilting her head, Arcee seemed to take a moment to process as she idly tapped her chin with a digit, “I think pain has a way of overshadowing our other feelings. And I know that you are in so much pain.”

 

To say she was flabbergasted would be short selling what she felt. Arcee would have seen right through her anyway had she not been anything but honest about her feelings.

 

“I see.”

 

Dropping her gaze to their joined servos, Blackarachnia watched the smooth movements of her pink digit massaging the soft purple mesh of her palm. The Decepticon wished more than anything that she could feel something more through the numbness at the moment.

 

She needed time to process. No plans. No schemes. Just... feeling.

 

“What do we do now?” She asked, volume barely above a whisper.

 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use a recharge.” Arcee absently rubbed one of her drooping optics with the back of a servo, “Do you mind if I stay in the overnight room?”

 

“Oh, um...” Scratching the side of her helm with a clawed digit, a funny feeling began to grow in her heart-spark. “Yeah... I suppose that’s fine.”

 

Arcee gave her a queer look. But after a moment, she gave her another painfully soft smile.

 

“Thanks... I'll see you tomorrow then.”

 

And just like that, Arcee’s servos slipped out of hers, leaving them cold and empty. Panic jolted through her field like a bolt of lightning as she watched the pink Autobot stand.

 

“And also... Thank you for letting me in, Blackarachnia.”

 

All four of her red optics dilated as she turned away.

 

Every once in a while, Blackarachnia got strange surges of something... alien in her circuits. It was hard to pin down exactly what it was or where it came from. But it felt like a line artificially planted code hiding deep with her core programming. And it was currently screaming at her.

 

A primal fear roared to life in her heart-spark.

 

You shouldn't be alone right now. It told her, It just might be the end of you. 

 

Her animal instinct took over, shoving all her carefully laid plans to the back of her processor.

 

“Wait! I don’t-” Static burst from her vocalizer as she tried to articulate what she wanted. What she needed. For her part, Arcee stood motionless in the doorway, looking down at with wide optics. “I don’t… want to be alone. Tonight… stay? Please?”

 

What the hell are you doing?!

 

Shut up! Uh... me!

 

The soft pink plating around Arcee's blue optics crinkled as a happy smile spread across her lips.

 

“Of course I’ll stay with you.” Stepping back into the room, the Autobot kneeled down in front of her and reached out to cup her cheekplate, “You only needed to ask.”

 

Relief blossomed in her spark. Blackarachnia smiled at her in return, actually feeling rather pleased with herself.

 

“Thank you... Arcee. But no funny business tonight. Got it?”

 

"Hehe," Releasing an amused giggle, the Autobot grinned at her mischievously, "I'll be good. Promise. I won't make a single joke." 

 

I've made a terrible, potentially fatal, mistake... Fuck it.

 

Truthfully, Blackarachnia was also quite exhausted. After getting up off the floor on her shaky stabilizers, she slipped a servo into Arcee's before interlacing their digits. She tugged the Autobot along behind her, leading her deeper into the room.

 

“No. way .” Arcee gazed at her web in open mouthed awe, “You recharge on that ?” 

 

Oh dear. I really didn't think this through.

 

“Umm, yes?” She rubbed the back of her helm bashfully, “You don’t have to stay if it’ll be a prob-”

 

“NO!” The Autobot blurted out, waving her free servo placatingly, “Its not a problem at all! I think that’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen! I can’t wait to try it…”

 

Can’t wait to try it…? Images from her recent dreams flashed through Blackarachnia’s processor. Nope! That’s not what she meant at all. No way.  

 

“Sooo… How does this work?”

 

Arcee reached out and poked the webbing, causing it to vibrate slightly. 

 

“Well, the most stable part is in the center.” She explained and pointed to the spot where the strands converged, “So we probably both want to be there.”

 

“Really? And I’m sure the fact that we’ll be frame to frame has nothing to do with us both being in the middle.”

 

Heat flooded her soft cheek plates as a minute shudder passed through her frame.

 

“Uhhh…” And now her processor had abandoned her entirely. 

 

Wonderful.

 

The fact that Arcee was trying to stifle a giggle behind her servo wasn't helping either.

 

“Why don’t you go first? So I can see how it's done.”

 

“Yes... right!" Taking a moment to compose herself, Blackarachnia stepped up onto the web, "Good idea.”  

 

Knowing she had an example to set, she carefully placed each servo on the points where two strands intersected as she moved up the silky construct with well practiced grace. After reaching the center, she laid on her side facing Arcee.

 

The femme's blue optics narrowed in thought. She stared at the web with an intensity that screamed 'you're in my way'.

 

This should be wildly entertaining.

 

Clearly mimicking what she saw, the Autobot moved onto the web one limb at a time, gingerly putting more of her weight on the intersecting strands. It looked like she'd fallen over forwards, but caught her her self by bracing her arms against the ground at the last moment. 

 

Blackarachnia covered her mouth with a servo, attempting to hold back her snickering. She was only partially successful.

 

“Ha ha.” Arcee said dryly. Ever so slowly, she began make her way across the web on her shaky limbs. The look of concentration on her cute face was adorable. “You made this look so easy...”

 

Considering how hard she was trying, the Decepticon decided against needling her pride anymore. When Arcee was within reach, she opened her arms invitingly, hoping she would accept.

 

Her pink cheek plates flushed red and her optics widened considerably. But after a moment, Arcee crawled up and settled into her embrace. Instinctually wrapping her arms around the smaller femme, a comfortable warmth edged into her field. 

 

Sighing contentedly, she closed all four of her optics and rested her helm against Arcee’s. 

 

“Goodnight, Blackarachnia…” The Autobot mumbled drowsily into her neck and cuddled closer.

 

“Heh, goodnight... Arcee.” 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Scrape… scrape…

 

Pain spilt her processor as sharp claws dug between the seams of her Cerebral Core.

 

Zzzzsst… scrape… zzzzzssst…

 

The intermittent buzz of a crude micro laser filled her audio receptors each time it etched searing lines into her delicate internals. Cutting her. Modifying her. Violating her.

 

Shunk.

 

A metal popping sound accompanied the extraction of her Memory Core, but the various wires that connected it to her processor remained intact. The cold atmosphere on the orange ship sucked the heat out the device in moments. She could feel the firm metal of the surface it was placed on nearby.

 

And then her Memory core was peeled apart, piece by piece.

 

Stop… please stop…

 

But her vocalizer was off, preventing her from calling out. In fact, most of her systems were shut down. All except her Core Processor and-

 

“I imagine this is all quite… unpleasant for you.” The cold, calculating voice said. 

 

Zzzsst… Zzzsst…

 

“You may be wondering why, of all your systems, your audio sensors are still online…”

 

Scraaaape…

 

“Memory can often be triggered with auditory stimuli, you see.” The bot spoke over the minute sounds of her processor being taken apart, “And your memories are proving unusually… elusive.”

 

Why… why… why… stop... it hurts… make it stop… please…

 

“You should feel honored.” He sounded like he actually believed that, “It’s not every cycle that one of my subjects pushes my expertise to the limit. But I do believe your resistance will no longer be a problem.”

 

SNAP!

 

Unable to use her voice, Arcee screamed in a prison of her own processor.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The sound of an agonized wail penetrated the haze of her deep recharge.

 

“…Arcee?!”

 

Sharp digits suddenly touched her plates, sending her into a panic as her spark exploded with fear. She lashed out with her servos in the darkness, desperately trying to keep him from violating her further.

 

“Oof! Hey! Calm dow- ouch!”

 

Her palm collided with someone’s helm.

 

“Please... Don’t... hurt me… anymore!”

 

She couldn’t take being tortured any longer. She had to escape. She had to-

 

The lights flashed on, revealing the worried face of Blackarachnia above hers. The Decepticon knelt on the web beside her with her purple servos hovering a digits width from her frame.

 

“What happened?" She asked, silky voice heavy with concern, "Are you ok, Arcee?”

 

"It was a dream… about… about…" Arcee covered her face with both servos, as if it would shield her from the echoes of her night terror. “It was him… it was him… it was him…”

 

She felt stuck in a loop, repeating the words over and over. 

 

At first, when two slender arms wrapped around her, she flinched involuntarily. But her hesitance passed as the comforting warmth of Blackarachnia's techno-organic frame enveloped her. 

 

“Shhh…” She cooed into Arcee's auditory receptor, “It’s just us here… you’re safe with me, always…”

 

Blackarachnia began to rock her back and forth. The steady motion and softly uttered words helped her come down from the aftermath of the night terror. Her limbs stopped shaking. Her labored vents became more even. And the disconnect she felt between reality and the past faded into simple exhaustion.

 

“Better?”

 

“...Yeah.” 

 

“Do you… want to try and recharge again?”

 

“No, I don’t…” Arcee answered firmly, “I want to stay right here... in this moment. Not… that one.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Blackarachnia lay there on the web for the next few breems, merely holding Arcee in silence. A particularly illogical part of her processor cursed herself for not having protected her from Shockwave, despite knowing she would never have been in the position to do so. 

 

Here was the most unique… no, the most special bot Blackarachnia had ever met, scarred by a fear that ran through the deepest levels of her being.

 

That monster had almost destroyed her. And had he succeeded, the universe truly would have never been the same.

 

I've got you, Arcee... it'll all be okay. I promise.

Notes:

Now what could that mean I wonder? Probably nothing.

Chapter 20: Skin Deep

Summary:

Sari spends her morning stuck with front desk duty.

“Ugghh…” Sari groaned dramatically as she spun around in in the front desk's large chair, occasionally kicking the furniture to maintain the speed. 

 

Yesterday, she and Ratchet had only managed to get about a dozen depositions from Blackarachnia's patients before she let them off the hook. And as dull as that had been, it was nowhere near as boring as reception duty. 

 

At least I got to meet interesting new bots.

 

Sari looked down at the brand new red badge adorning her breastplate with a mix of pride and bitterness.

 

While the Autobot High Command had allowed Optimus to induct her into their ranks, they ‘recommended’ she hide her techno-organic nature for now. Otherwise her presence might start a panic in the genera; populace.

 

For the foreseeable future, she was forced to keep her helm on. God forbid some random Cybertronian spotted her organic face and had a conniption.

 

“You’d think a bunch of multicolored robots wouldn’t be so discriminatory.” She complained aloud. The other humans on Earth had always treated her differently because of her skin color and gender. “I guess most people are shitty no matter what their species is..."

 

I still don’t trust her, but seeing how the other Autobots reacted to my techno-organic nature, I can kind of understand why Blackarachnia is so prickly about it.  

 

Trying not to focus on the frustration building in her heart-spark, her thoughts wandered to Arcee. She'd messaged them late last night about not returning for the evening. The bitchy spider was a pain in the ass to be around for any period of time. She just couldn't understand why Arcee wanted to spend more time with her.

 

She did fix her up and build her a brand new, and frankly adorable, frame…  

 

The two of them were appeared much friendlier with each other than she expected. Granted, Blackarachnia seemed slightly less mean than she was before.

 

Come to think of it, I barely remember her making any snide comments or insults towards Arcee. 

 

Before she recharged yesterday, she asked Ratchet about the two femme’s odd behavior.

 

But true to form, he had only scratched the side of his helm anxiously and said:“Its a good thing they’re friendly with each other. Might keep the Decepticon out of trouble.” 

 

“Way to avoid the question, Ratchet.”

 

What if it was an aspect of Cybertronian culture she wasn’t familiar with. After briefly poking her head out the main entrance to see if any bots were headed their way, she powered on the desk terminal and began to scour the Autobots' version of the internet. 

 

After a few minutes of searching, she came across a subject called ‘Conjux Endurae’. But before she could delve any further, the main doors slid aside.

 

“Welcome to the Min-” She began to recite their standardized greeting before she even looked up from the monitor. However, the sight of Sentinel Magnus's blue and orange frame towering over her prompted her to stop, “Oh, it's you .”

 

“You may be Optimus’s pet, but you’d do well to watch your tone human .” Sari narrowed her eyes at him as her circuits started to boil with anger, “That piston head better be ready for our meeting.”

 

Glanced at the schedule on her Heads Up Display, she found Prime did in fact have an appointment with the Magnus. 

 

“Yes , he should be waiting for you now.”

 

Letting him bait her would only make him act worse.

 

“I didn’t hear a ‘sir’ from you!” Sentinel growled before leaning over the desk and pointing an enormous finger in her face.

 

That’s it! I’ll give you a ‘sir’!  

 

Sari retracted her helmet and hissed at him while wiggling her tongue like a snake’s.

 

“EEEAAH!!” The big oaf squealed in fear as he leaped away. After turning his back her, he walked with forced poise towards the lifts.

 

“Filthy organic…” Sentinel muttered loudly enough for her to hear.

 

The moment the lift door closed, Sari screamed with unrestrained and slammed her fists onto the desk. Bowing her head, she squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to hold back the tears. 

 

Sari was too stuck in her own churning thoughts and feelings to notice the sound of light pedes walking up beside her. She did however feel the warm servo spread across her back suddenly, causing her jump.

 

“Bumblebee?!” She exclaimed as she looked up into her best friend's blue optics, “Don’t scare me like that!” 

 

“Oops! Sorry…” Bumblebee wore an uncommon frown on his face plates. While his field normally contained a steady level of boisterous energy, it currently pulsed with concern, “Are you ok? What happened to make you so… mad?”

 

“Sentinel is here.” She dropped her face into her hands and released a heavy sigh, “I let him get to me…”

 

“Don’t listen to anything that mother fragger says.” The yellow Autobot rubbed her back gently, causing some of the tension in her frame to drain away, “He wouldn’t know his vocalizer from his exhaust port if they weren’t labeled.”

 

Sari giggled at the particularly colorful insult. None of them had any love for the former Prime. Luckily, their success and popularity with the council made them almost untouchable, even to the de facto leader of Cybertron.

 

“Anyway, it's my turn at the desk. Why don’t you go get a bite to eat or something.” He suggested amicably with a smile on his grey lips.

 

“Yeah, I think I will.” She agreed and hopped off the chair. Before heading down the hall to their customized cafeteria, she turned back to her friend, “Hey Bumblebee, why do people here hate organics so much?” 

 

“You know… I’m not really sure.” He idly scratched his cheek plate while processing the question, “When we left to start our maintenance route all those stellar-cycles ago, it wasn’t anywhere near this bad.”

 

“I see… later Bee!”

 

Sari shot a glance at the lifts before she left the reception area.

 

First the cybertronians started getting more afraid of organics within the last 50-60 stellar-cycles. Now their class system is making a comeback…  

 

She couldn’t be sure yet, but Bumblebee’s answer had given her an idea about the potential source of these shifts in the Autobots' ideologies.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Around an hour later, Sari lounged on her custom berth while she cruised the net on her HUD. 

 

Prime had personally designed her room with accommodations for her human and techno-organic needs. It was more compact than the other Cybertronian quarters she’d seen with a softly padded berth and smaller versions of their furniture. 

 

Ratchet installed a special lighting system throughout the MDC headquarters to account for the planet’s lack of a star in their system. She still had a handful of human needs like vitamins and nutrients as well as requiring a day/night cycle. The other Autobots had spent so much time on Earth, they had no problem sticking to her different method of time keeping if it meant she’d stay healthy.

 

“Oh! That’s right, I was going to read about Conjuxes…” She remembered suddenly.

 

The encounter with Sentinel had almost made her forget about it. It only took her a few moments to locate the file, but she ended up spending the next half an hour reading and doing even more extensive research.

 

“Woah…” Sari almost couldn’t believe the depth and complexity of this concept. “And I thought human love was complicated.”

 

The ping of her communicator stole her attention away from the fascinating bit of Cybertronian culture. It turned out to be a message from Arcee.

 

RC-687-040: Hi Sari! Ratchet said he’s busy today, so I thought you might want to collect more depositions with me instead.

 

Despite how much time she'd spent researching Cybertronian romance, there was still much that seemed illogical or nebulous. Not that she understood human romance any better. Everyone she'd ever asked, including her father, had responded with nothing but evasiveness that just frustrated her even more.

 

Maybe this is my chance to get some answers...

 

TopBitchInCharge: do I ever!

 

TopBitchInCharge: its ben soooooo boring here today

 

TopBitchInCharge: also sentinel is a dick face

 

RC-687-040: Do I want to know what that means?

 

TopBitchInCharge: that all depends on how much u want to know about organic naughty bits

 

RC-687-040: Oooookay... I think I'll pass.

 

TopBitchInCharge: also, u know u can change your handle to whatever u want, right?

 

RC-687-040: Oh! Yes. I just wasn't sure what I should pick.

 

TopBitchInCharge: no worries! want me to help u pick 1?

 

RC-687-040: That would lovely! Thank you, Sari.

 

RC-687-040: I’ll start heading your way now. See you soon!

 

TopBitchInCharge: hurry before i rust!

 

Closing out the chat log, Sari cackled mischievously into the silence of her room. 

Notes:

I hope my interpretations of cybertronian morphology and behavior is at least interesting to read. I'm a marine biologist so I thought it might be fun to try and apply my knowledge to make a little more sense with how the everyday lives and needs of these beings manifest.

Chapter 21: A Heart to Spark Talk

Summary:

Arcee accompanies Sari on their second day of talking to Blackarachnia's patients.

“Umm… I had. A nice recharge. With you.” Blackarachnia said as she continued to type away at her console.

 

Arcee turned to look at the back of her doctor's helm before she left, taken aback by the sudden admission. Last night had been difficult for both of them. She would be lying if she didn’t wish the Decepticon had immediately returned her feelings. But she completely understood why she hadn’t. In fact, it had been somewhat of a relief. There was still a great deal of trust to be built between them, and it had gone a long way to convince her that it was possible.

 

Even still, she had been pleasantly surprised when Blackarachnia asked her to stay. It was a pleasantly intimate experience without being too overwhelming. At least until she experienced another night terror. But the Decepticon had come through for her all the same. She gently helped her come down from the fear, even after getting smacked in the face, and made her feel safe in a way she'd never felt before.

 

The mere memory being of held in her slender arms, comfortably nestled on her web for all those breems... well, it made her spark flutter in her chassis.

 

“I like you too- I mean, it too. Yeah...” Arcee giggled awkwardly, idly fidlling with her digits, “Well I- uh... I better get going then.”

 

“Yes.” The Decepticon's frame tensed, but after a moment, she peered hesitantly over her shoulder, “Good luck with... things.”

 

"You... too."

 

Primus… Arcee hid her flushed faceplates behind her servos scurried out through the clinic waiting room. At least I get to spend the day with Sari. I never feel that out of sorts with her . 

 

Transforming into her sleek alt-mode, Arcee retraced the increasingly familiar route between the clinic and their headquarters. After her enthusiastic driving the previous solar-cycle, she drove at a more measured pace this time. Prime would most certainly give a dressing down if she was ever given a ticket for speeding.

 

When she pulled up outside the MDC building, she sent a ping to Sari’s comm and waited with her engines idling.

 

“Hey Arcee!” The techno-organic shouted as she skipped out of the main entrance, “I’m so glad I don’t have to do this with Mr. ‘Have you experienced any unusual spark fluctuations or fluid inconsistencies in the last mega-cycle’. He asked them that every time.”

 

“Yeesh, guess I’ll have to change the speech I wrote earlier.” She said and popped open her single seat cockpit, “Maybe I should ask them about the age of their spark plugs instead.”

 

“Ugggh.” Sari groaned in exasperation as she climbed into the seat, “Sometimes I forget you're a crotchety old bot like Ratchet.”

 

“Hey! I am not crotchety…” 

 

The sound of her engines roaring to life barely drowned out the tiny femme's unrestrained laughter.

 

Rude... Grumbling to herself, Arcee drove them out of the Metroplex and headed for the clinic’s side of the city. 

 

“T-That’s the part you’re upset about?” Sari asked when her giggles finally subsided, “I don't know why I thought you were any less of a goof than the rest of us.”

 

“Oh, thank you… I think?” She couldn't quite tell if that was more compliment or insult.

 

“By the way, I wanted to ask you something. Do you want to sparkmate with Blackarachnia?”

 

Arcee screeched to a halt in the middle of the road.

 

The Autobot that had been driving behind them honked angrily at them. After slinging a few choice curses, he tore off down road and out of sight.

 

Slag.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“So... what does sparkmate actually mean?"

 

Unwilling to keep sitting in the middle of the road, Arcee drove them to the first address on their list while attempting to help Sari understand why she had such a dramatic reaction to her question.

 

“If we’re using your Earth as a comparison point, you asked me if I wanted to marry Blackarachnia.”

 

Despite her initial embarrassment, Arcee was actually beginning to find the whole thing funny. Young bots always had such a pure view of their reality. If you were unaccustomed to that mindset, an innocent question could come off as rude or insulting. She always preferred reacting with understanding, rather than a rebuke or deflection.

 

“Ah. I can see how that was… awkward.” She stated bashfully and scratched her soft brown cheek. “Well if we’re using Earth as a comparison, do you love Blackarachnia?” 

 

Arcee vented heavily as they came to a stop outside a dilapidated residential building. Compared to some of the decrepit structures surrounding it, the apartments didn’t seem too bad. The neighborhood was a little quiet, but there were still a few open stores and restaurants around.

 

Popping her canopy, Sari hopped out of her cockpit, allowing her to transform.

 

“I like Blackarachnia. Its probably a little early to say if I'm in love or not.”

 

Sari's fuzzy brows scrunched in consternation.

 

“I don’t get it...” She said hesitantly, “What’s the difference?”

 

Arcee’s optics widened as she suddenly realized the problem. Because young bots were usually still developing her their personalities, their perspectives on the world they lived in often held subtle hints about what their life had been like. And if what she suspected was true, Sari could very well have been the victim of neglect. 

 

“Has no one ever talked to you about this stuff before?"

 

“Nope." After a moment, Sari frown at her as a burst of anxiety flowed from her field. "Should they have...?”

 

“Well honestly, yes. If for no other reason than to prepare you for the people around you who will be feeling things like love and attraction.”

 

Before Sari averted her gaze, she saw tears had begun to gather in her organic optics. 

 

“I-I’ve never really had… anyone around me besides the Autobots and dad.” Her voice cracked with emotion as she spoke. "My father was always busy with work, and the boys knew even less about Earth than I did. I kinda had to learn most things on my own..."

 

“Oh sweet spark,” Arcee kneeled and pulled Sari into a hug, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Why don’t we talk more later... is that okay?”

 

The techno-organic looked up into her optics with clear uncertainty in her expression. But she nodded her head in agreement before burying her face against Arcee's breastplate. 

 

“Uh, you ladies alright out here?”

 

Sari's helmet immediately snapped closed around her organic head. Breaking their embrace, they looked to the apartment building where a heavily armored teal mech stood on the steps. He watched them with a raised optic brow and a smoking cy-gar held loosely between two of his digits. 

 

“Oh! It's you!” Arcee blurted out. Realizing how unprofessional that sounded, she tried to recover by double checking the patient's name, “I mean... you’re Kup? Right?”

 

“Who wants ta know?” He grouched, but not aggressively.

 

“I’m the doctor’s assistant! I have some questions for you.”

 

“The ‘doctor’s assistant’?” Sari muttered suspiciously.

 

“Hush.” She hissed under a vent.

 

“Hmm…” Kup seemed to consider them for a moment, “How do I know ya ain't yankin my crank case?”

 

“If you recall, I gave you a discount for your treatment.”

 

He stopped chewing on the cylinder of smoking energon for a moment as his optics widened in recognition. Letting out a rumbling laugh, he clanked down the steps to stand in front of them. Kup was easily two heads taller than she was and twice as wide.

 

“That's you alright. What can I do ya for?” He asked and tapped the end of his cy-gar with a digit, sending embers falling to the ground.

 

“Well, we’re trying to get personal statements the doctor's patients about their treatment.” Arcee elaborated, already know how shady this was going to sound. 

 

“And why’s that?” Kup narrowed his optics as a note of paranoia leaked into his field.

 

“To be perfectly honest,” Sari cut in, prompting her to tense in anticipation, “the doctor is a war criminal who’s trying to get amnesty from High Command.”

 

Oh dear. Arcee closed her optics with a sigh.  

 

“Is that right?” Kup actually removed the cy-gar from his mouth as he gaped in surprise. "Well I'll be dipped in coolant..."

 

“We need you to tell us about your experience at her clinic. Our goal is to gather evidence that will strengthen her plea to High Command.” Sari spoke in a measured voice with clearly practiced precision. Recognizing the tone one often used in public communication that was one part boredom and one part purpose, it became clear to her that Sari had done this several times already. Pulling out a datapad, the tiny femme began to type on the screen, "Would you be willing to give us a statement and ask a few questions?"

 

“Well sure I’ll help her out.” He agreed good-naturedly, “I needed a brand new asynchronous transfer adapter for my back. She managed to install it that very same cycle. Hasn’t felt this good since before the last Golden Age. Oh, and then there was the rust infection in my stabilizers a few solar-cycles ago. That rustbath got rid of it after the first one dose. Never seen anything like it!”

 

Woah… she’s actually really good at this.

 

Arcee observed as the techno-organic's optics flicked back and forth over the datapad she carefully watched the datapad's screen. The device was set to record the patient’s words and convert them into a document assigned to his medical profile. 

 

“And can you tell us why you would help a wanted criminal achieve amnesty from the law?”

 

“Tch, that’s easy.” Kup took one last drag of his cy-gar before dropping it on the street and crushing it under his pede. “Ya know how hard it is for bots out here to get quality medical care? If you’re not still in the military or rich enough to live downtown, they won’t even let ya inside the building without paying one of their 'access fees'.”

 

“So, you’re saying she’s the only option you have?” Despite her continued professionalism, Arcee knew the techno-organic well enough to catch the subtle frustration in her voice.

 

Arcee could hardly blame her. Having lived through it herself, hearing that the hallmarks of the old class system were in use once more sent cold chills through her circuits. 

 

Bots were forced into mines and menial labor just because of their type of alt-modes or lack of political connections. The disparity between the Autobot upper and lower class grew to unsustainable levels. Eventually, some of the downtrodden decided to stand up against the exact type systemic oppression Kup was describing. And they all knew how that turned out.

 

It’s really happening again.

 

“It’s not just that though.” He continued, “Everybody around here’s been feeling better lately. Now that their medicals have been met, bots are starting to get back to work the community is starting to regain some of their energy. Bots have been able to get back to their jobs and help others get back on their pedes.”

 

“Mmhmm.” Humming in satisfaction, the techno-organic reattached to the pad to her belt. “Thank you for your statement, have a lovely cycle.”

 

Sari turned and began to walk further down the road. She already held the other pad with the list of patients and was making notes on it.

 

“Yeah, you too, kid.” Kup said with a smirk directed at the mini-bot. “And nice to meet ya, Ms. Assistant.”

 

“Yes!” Responding more loudly than she intended, Arcee cleared her vocalizer and saluted the old bot. “That is… it was nice to meet you in person as well Kup Minor, sir!”

 

“Heh, so you recognized me?” He rubbed the back of his helm with a servo and sighed heavily, “Just get goin, will ya? The kid’s about to walk into a lamp post.”

 

Spinning around in alarm, she saw that the mini-bot was so intensely focused on her task that she had yet to notice the obstacle in her way.

 

“Sari, look out!”

 

“Wh- Ouch!”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

About six breems later, Arcee rolled to a stop outside the entrance of the MDC building. They had managed to collect thirty-seven depositions thanks to Sari’s expert and efficient technique.

 

Once the mini-bot had jumped and she had the chance to transform to robot mode, they trudged inside. Ratchet threw them a half-sparked salute as she led the two of them to the elevators.  

 

“I have to say…” Arcee said when the lift started to bring them down to the living area, “I’m impressed by your professionalism. You really performed well out there.” 

 

The techno-organic went rigid on her pedes. After a moment, she looked up at her with a shy grin and a dark brown coloring her cheeks.

 

“Well, I did have to run my dad’s robotics company a couple years ago… This is easy compared to that. Plus, it took me all day yesterday to practice my technique.”

 

“I don't know how to tell you this…” She smiling proudly at the tiny femme, “But there are bots millions of stellar cycles older than you who couldn't handle that as well as you did.”

 

“You think so…?” Sari asked uncertainly.

 

When the lift opened, the two femmes headed straight for their communal space.

 

The large room was filled with all the amenities they could need. There were a few softly padded pieces of furniture clustered in front of a massive screen that dominated the back wall. A small kitchen held food stock for Sari and shelves full of energon canisters. They'd all contributed to the stack of Earth and Cybertronian board games that sat in one corner. Arcee vented lightly in relief when they arrived to find the room empty of any occupants.

 

“I know so.” She assured her as they sat together on the reinforced couch. “Well, I promised we would talk more about… things. Is there anything specific you’d like to know?”

 

The techno-organic held her chin in a servo, frowning as she processed.

 

“I realize that Cybertronians reproduce through non-sexual means... So why have romantic relationships in the first place?” 

 

“That’s a very good question.” Arcee complimented with a pleased smile, “Just like humans, we also crave long-term social bonds of many different kinds. Sometimes we just want friends. Other times we may find someone we want to be even closer with for much longer.”

 

“Ohhh…” Sari’s optics widened in understanding, “So it’s kind of like humans who get married but don’t have any kids. So you don’t want to have that kind of relationship with Blackarachnia?”

 

I knew we’d get back here eventually… Arcee’s cheek plates overheated as she tried to process an appropriate answer.

 

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” She admitted and looked down at her clasped servos, “I like being around her. I like talking to her. I want her to be happy and healthy… And I want to hold her and touch her... But this is all still new to me. I’ve never actually had a serious relationship before, so... I’m not sure how its all supposed to feel.”

 

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

 

The older Autobot was once more taken aback by Sari’s intuitive abilities, not to mention her bluntness.

 

“Yes, we actually have. With any kind of relationship, friends or more, open and regular communication is key.”

 

“Hmm…” Carefully observing the focused look on her organic features, Sari seemed to be considering something significant, “I wonder if I’ll ever find someone like that.”

 

Arcee raised an optic brow in response. After a few micro-kilicks of hemming and hawing in her processor, she decided that this was as good a time as any to have this particular talk with Sari.

 

“Do you… want to have a romantic relationship?”

 

“I… I’m not sure.” Sari answered quietly, idly biting one of her digits in a startlingly familiar way. “Is that bad...?” 

 

“No, not at all!” Wanting to reassure her, she pulled the mini-bot into her lap for a gentle hug, “Not everyone needs or wants to be that close with another person. And that is a perfectly reasonable way to feel.”

 

Warmth flooded their combined fields as they spent a moment in contemplative silence. Eventually, Sari sighed and smiled at her.

 

"Thanks... Arcee. I had some other questions... if you don't mind that is.”

 

"For you Sari? Always."

 

The two Autobots continued to talk for several more breems, discussing aspects of Cybertronian and human relationships alike. When she recommended they continue later and get in some recharge time, Sari shyly asked if she could sleep with her for the night.

 

Looking into her wide, piercing blue optics, Arcee couldn’t find it in her spark to refuse.

Notes:

Okayyy so there's obviously a lot of my own views and feelings on relationships in this chapter, but I really liked the idea of this being a thing that might happen between Arcee and Sari. She's literally programmed to help nurture and guide young sparks, and whether or not Sari will have or engage in more intimate relationships in the future, she would undoubtedly want to educate her about it. Optimus asked her to mentor the hybrid after all.

I also wanted to explore a mother/daughter type relationship with the two of them. I love the idea she's been raised all this time by her six dads is great, but more varied points of view are healthy for her too.

Chapter 22: Storm Clouds on the Horizon

Summary:

Ratchet reports to Optimus Prime on the events of the last few solar-cycles.

“So, she really has been doing some good out there…” Optimus mused.

 

“I may just be a washed up war medic," Ratchet grouched, leaning back in his chair to get more comfortable, "but I’ve never seen Cybertronians in as those bots. You'd be pretty hard pressed to find a better doctor on this side of the galaxy, let alone the Cybertron. I might just pay 'er a visit myself.”

 

“Hmm.” Holding his long chin a servo, Prime stared blankly at the pad containing his report. “And you're sure she hasn't done anything… questionable to any of them?” 

 

“Besides charging them a servo and a stabilizer? Well… I'd need to give each of them a complete physical to know for sure. But my basic medical scans couldn’t find anything unusual. I kept my optics open during Arcee's procedure, but that went about as textbook as possible.”

 

“I have to ask you something, Ratchet.” Spinning around his chair to face the window, Optimus sighed wearily, “Has Arcee been compromised?”

 

Say what now?

 

“I... don't think I understand, sir.”

 

Over the stellar-cycles since the Great War ended, Ratchet's faith in the Autobot leadership had waned considerably. As a consequence, he'd grown much more relaxed in his use of military honorifics. But habit won out this time on account of how shocked he was to hear Optimus's doubts about his oldest friend.

 

“I shouldn't have to explain how delicate of a situation we have on our servos, Ratchet. There are many Autobots that mark us as traitors for even speaking to Blackarachnia without arresting her.” A pulse of apprehension came from his field, barely noticeable beneath the feeling of cold discipline the Prime was giving off. “You know Arcee better than any of us. I need to know the extant of her relationship with Blackarachnia and whether we can safely depend on her judgement.”

 

Ratchet automatically opened up his mouth to protest, but he stopped short. His leader wasn't making accusations. Just asking the hard questions for the good of their team.

 

Maybe I'm the one that's compromised... He thought bitterly. Sorry Arcee. Promise I'll make it up to ya.

 

“Arcee definitely has a spark-crush on the spider. I'll admit, it is possible she’s been compromised.” Optimus's wide shoulders sagged slightly as he spoke, “But she was also one of our best intel agents during the war. I can't believe she'd go this far for a Decepticon for no good reason.”

 

“I hope you're right, Ratchet.” Optimus turned back around, now wearing a small grin, if a tired one, "For all our sakes." 

 

Venting in relief, the medic mulled over bringing up the other major concern he'd had recently. While he wasn't sure how much Optimus could do about it... keeping him informed was probably wiser than not.

 

“By the way Prime…" He began, choosing his words carefully, “There was something else I wanted to bring to your attention.”

 

"Oh?" Prime raised an optic brow curiously, "And what might that be?"

 

"The reason the bots out there have even turned to an unlicensed clinic in the first... Well, they said the hospitals have been turnin them away unless they pay or join the military."

 

“What?” Optimus narrowed his optics as a grim expression pinched his features, “This first time I'm hearing about it. Is there any merit to these accusations?” 

 

“I haven't exactly gone to the hospitals to see for myself... but Prime, every bot out there has the same story. And what's worse, some even said they'd been turned down for jobs or homes near the Metroplex because, and I quote, they were too 'low class'.”

 

Clasping his blue servos together on his desk, Optimus leaned his elbow joints as his field rippled with anxiety.

 

“That’s quite disturbing to hear… I'll try to see if I can get any answers from high command. In the mean time, can you investigate the situation at the hospitals and some of the bigger clinics?

 

“Sure thing, Prime." He agreed, silently thanking Primus for blessing them with a leader like Optimus, "I don’t have to tell you what all this sounds like, do I sir?”

 

“No Ratchet. It sounds exactly like history repeating itself.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Stupid piece of scrap!” Sentinel shouted as he banged his servo against the side of the console. "This is literally the worst possible time for you to malfunction you stupid piece of-" 

 

Ding… Ding… The sound of an incoming call rang out, interrupting his tirade. Carfully schooling his features, Sentinel leaned back casually in his office chair. The sight Perceptor's bespectacled visage on the screen caused his fuel pressure to rise.

 

“Your call is 2.3 kilicks late Sentinel.”

 

Who the frag does he think he is? Sentinel had always hated his monotone voice, but the tight aft was a key part of his plan.

 

“Nevermind that.” He waved a servo dismissively, “How is our… initiative progressing?”

 

“Every medical facility in the city is in full compliance with your recommended  patient regulations. However, your projection that those affected would join the military once their situation became untenable has not occurred.”

 

“What?!” The Magnus snapped and leaned closer in to the screen, “Those rust buckets should be desperate for our help by now! What happened?”

 

“It appears they have found an alternative method of meeting their needs.” The scientist idly adjusted his glasses on his nose, “There is a 78.2 percent probability that an unlicensed provider has begun operating within the city limits.”

 

“Slag…” Sentinel stroked his heavy chin while he processed this unexpected hiccup, “We’ll have to keep up the pressure then. If they think they can break the law in my city, they’re sorely mistaken.”

 

“Sir, if I may recommend-” Perceptor began, most likely ready to tell him something asinine.

 

“I don’t need your recommendations, I need results .” He snapped, “Now go do your job, while I get back to running Cybertron.”

 

“As you say Sentinel Magnus.” Luckily for his fuel pressure, the scientist cut the call.. 

 

“Tch, what an imbecile.” Sentinel sneered aloud as he prepared new orders for the Elite Guard, “Cybertron will be great again. Even if I have to throw every last broken down bot and deviant in prison to do it.” 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A toothy grin spread across Blackarachnia's violet lips. 

 

“Oh Sentinel, you make this far too easy.”

Notes:

I realized I was unintentionally making use of recent real world... themes. Yeah I'll go with themes. But hey, it's not like classism and discrimination didn't exist until the last few decades.

Anyway, I hope you're all still enjoying this now that the overall plot is starting to come into sharper focus. Let me know what y'all think!

Chapter 23: The Cyber-Ninja Corp

Summary:

Arcee arrives at the mysterious spire of the cyber-ninjas.

Notes:

Some light misgendering occurs in this chapter.

Jazz waited patiently on the steps outside the Spire of the Cyber-Ninja for their newest prospective student to arrive.

 

He hadn’t seen Arcee since they returned planetside, leading him to assume that she was still recovering from her injuries. The last he heard, Ratchet was having difficulties finding a way to treat her more… chronic condition.

 

Guess that didn't stick.

 

Not only was her treatment and frame transition now complete, Optimus wanted her evaluated for admittance to the Corp. While he was pleased that the femme was doing well, it was entirely too sudden for his taste. There was too much going on lately that didn't add up. Jazz just had to hope he could figure out what before they all ended up in the trash heap. 

 

The distant revving of a ground vehicle's engine drew his attention back to the here and now. But he drew in a sharp intake vent as an unsettlingly familiar pink speedster turned the corner, heading straight for him. Several pieces of the puzzle fell into place within his logic processor.

 

Nah, it can't be her... its just not-

 

Rolling to a stop in front of the steps, the very same pink femme he had tailed a few solar-cycles ago transformed and stood to attention with a well practiced salute.

 

“Intelligence Officer RC-687-040 reporting for evaluation, sir!”

 

Well I'll be a Quintesson's uncle...

 

“At ease.” Jazz kept a tight leash on the pulses of his spark, trying to mask how unnerved he was. Forcing a confident grin, he whistled low, “Lookin good there, girl. Nice paint job. ” 

 

Arcee frame went rigid as a flush darkened her cheek plates.

 

"I-I uh... that is-"

 

Hmm... interesting. It wasn't hard for him to release a semi-genuine chuckle. Arcee narrowed her optics at him and pouted indignantly. That's more like it.

 

Feeling slightly more sure that he wasn't dealing with an immediate threat, he decided to move this meet and greet along.

 

"Ready see the Spire?" He asked amicable, standing aside to gesture at the entrance, "The rest of the Corp is waiting ta meet ya."

 

Her softly glowing blue optics lit up brightly and a wide grin turned up her magenta lips. After a moment, she began to bounce on the pads of her pedes with anticipation bursting from her powerful field.

 

“Yes I am, sir!” The pitch of her voice was much higher than before, though equally as soft toned, “I only hope I can live up to your expectations!” 

 

“Heh, it ain't my expectations you have to live up to.” He retorted cryptically. Afterall, the core tenant of bein a cyber-ninja was keepin an air of mystery at all times. “Come on, let’s not keep the Master waitin.”

 

Jazz turned around and led her up the steps. She remained silent as they walked through the quiet entry way and stepped into the lift. After entering the code into the control panel, the elevator began to speed them up the tower. 

 

“I was wondering, sir, who is the Master right now?" Arcee asked, voice barely above a whisper, "I remember when Master Yokitron was in charge, but I never heard who took over after he... passed.” 

 

Glancing over his shoulder to meet her gaze, Jazz carefully considered his approach. It didn't matter to him whether she was an Autobot or a member of Optimus's team. Arcee was suspicious. There was just something about her that made his circuits frazzled. But her field radiated genuine positivity. Her words, field, behavior... they all felt authentic coming from her. Jazz was also not a particular ego centric. If he was wrong about her, he would accept that. He just wasn't there yet.

 

“That’d be Master Dai Atlas.” He answered and turned his optics back on the door panels, “Bit of a... different sort of cyber-ninja, but he’s a dynamite teacher.”

 

“Dai Atlas?!” Arcee's mouth fell open and her optics widened, “I-I thought he retired! I never imagined I would even get to meet Dai Atlas…”

 

“If your eval goes smoothly,” Jazz said when the lift slowed to a stop and the panels opened wide, “You’ll get to do more than just meet him.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Between her, Sari, Ratchet and the few bots Dipole called in to assist, they had almost finished collecting the entire list of depositions over the last four solar-cycles. Optimus was ready to present the doctor's case to the high council. Things were gearing up to be quite interesting in the coming cycles, but Prime had insisted she take a break to get evaluated by the cyber-ninjas. 

 

"There's no more you can do right now, Arcee. But, she may need protection. Don't you want to be in fighting shape in case she needs you?"

 

Stupid Optimus and his stupid logic.

 

Its not that she was having second thoughts about being a ninja, it just seemed like there was already a lot going on. She would be lying if she said it wasn't overwhelming. Now that she was here, Arcee could barely contain her excitement.

 

The pink femme had no clue what to expect from them. Their order were few in number and often seen as the oddballs of the Autobot military. Even so, they were as mysterious as they were powerful and had long been romanticized by the common bot. 

 

Jazz led the way down a long corridor line on both sides by holographic busts of about a dozen Cybertronians. She was about to ask who they were when she spotted Road Rocket's handsome features depicted in stunning detail. While she hadn't known him personally, she recognized Prowl's likeness not much further away.

 

These were remembrances of the fallen.

 

Fixing her optics forward, she watched Jazz hit a button on the tall, double paneled door at the end of the corridor. Soft white filtered in between the opening panels as they slowly slid aside.

 

“Primus…”

 

The room beyond was large and circular with grey walls that stretched far overhelm. Row after of row of alcoves inset into the walls held blank protoforms just waiting for their spark to arrive. This was where the vast majority of Autobots began their life. And the Cyber-Ninja Corp were its guardians. Though Arcee assumed the same was true for her, she had no memory whatsoever of this place. Gazing up at the delicately decorated walls and alcoves in awe, she entirely missed the presence of the two unfamiliar Autobots standing at the center of the room.

 

“Welcome to the Matrix Chamber, recruit.”

 

A deep, rumbling voice echoed through the chamber, startling Arcee from her revere. Automatically standing to attention out of habit, Jazz left her side to stand by a positively enormous steel gray and bronze mech. 

 

He was Immediately recognizable as none other than Dai Atlas himself. During the Great War he was second only to Ultra Magnus himself. But he also shared the for supreme commander's heavy stabilizers and stocky build. A giant drill extended up from each of his shoulder pauldrons and three bronze plated antennas swept back off of his helm. But the expression on his stern features was distinctly more... relaxed than she expected. He even wore a soft grin as he gazed down at her.

 

On his other side was a slender white and red plated mech that stood with his arms crossed over his curvy chestplate. There was a grey long sword was strapped onto his backplate, as well as a pair of  two short blades stored on his skirt armor. Unlike Dai Atlas, hostility flowed from his field as he glowered at her. 

 

“Uh, thank you... for seeing me, Dai Atlas, sir...” She stammered.

 

Slaaaaaaaag. Now that she was actually here, all of her previous excitement was swiftly smothered by anxiety. Arcee dearly hoped they hadn't noticed her servos shaking at her sides. Maybe Mr. Moody over there will kill me before I embarrass myself.

 

“You stand in one of the most ancient sites on Cybertron.” The Master spoke imperiously and made a sweeping gesture with an enormous servo. If he'd caught on to her internal panic, he certainly wasn't showing it, “If you are deemed worthy to train in these halls, the power of the Cyber-Ninja Corp will be at your-”

 

“UGGGHHHH...” The white-red mech groaned loudly and glared up at the Master, interrupting his admittedly stiff sounding speech. "By the AllSpark can you hurry it up, Dai?"

 

“Drift, we talked about this.” Dai Atlas tutted, like he was scolding a young bot who'd just committed a faux pas, “This our first new recruit since you joined, so we’re going to do this right.”

 

What is happening…?  

 

“Yeah, I know what you said!” Drift hissed as he gesticulated wildly, “But you never said you were going to take fooooreveeeer you old coot! Who even is this bot?! Arcee's profile says he's a blue mech, not a pink femme!”

 

...Oh.

 

Arcee squeezed her optic lids shut just as beads of lubricant began to gather at their corners. As desperately as she tried to keep her composure, her field exploded with shame. She'd been found out in moments. And all it had taken was an out of date ID to bring her self image crashing to the ground. 

 

“Drift.” Jazz spoke with such venom that it drew her back from the darker depths of her processor. With her optics open again, she saw that he'd gotten right up in Drift's face as a wave of cool aggression pulsed from his field. “The file must have had the wrong pic and info. This is Arcee, got it?”

 

“Oh come on Jazz! Get off your high-”

 

“That’s enough out of you both.” Dai Atlas's deep voice boomed through chamber, cutting right through whatever Drift was about to say. Both he and Jazz returned to his sides without another word.

 

"Now, where were we." The Master hummed thoughtfully for a moment before snapping his digits with a bright look in his optics, "Ah yes, the Cyber-Ninja Corps has a long and storied history of-"

 

But when Jazz cleared his vocalizer, he blinked owlishly before turning his gaze on his subordinate.

 

"Yes Jazz? What is it now?"

 

“Master Dai Atlas, I believe Arcee is till recovering from a recent medical procedure." He explained and shot a minute glance, "Why don’t we skip ahead to the eval…?”

 

Yes, please. She wasn't exactly sure why Jazz kept covering for her, but she wasn't going to look a gift blaster in the barrel.

 

The towering mech grumbled under his vents as he mulled over Jazz's recommendation. Turning his hard gaze back on her, the expression on his face plates softened the longer he looked.

 

“Yes, I suppose we ought to.” Abandoning his previous pomp, Dai Atlas strode towards her, pedes thundering with every step he took. Arcee had to crane her helm back just to meet his optics when he stopped in before her. “Now recruit, we can no longer risk allowing just anyone to undergo cyber-ninja training.”

 

The Master pulled a double edged long sword from his back that was easily three times as long as she was tall and kneeled down to her level. Shifting his hold on the weapon from the hilt to the blade, he delicately held it out to her handle first. While the sword was clearly unique in many aspects, the guard housed a glowing nexus of bright blue light that gave off an unsettling energy signal. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before, giving it a distinctly alien presence compared to everything around it.

 

“Behold a Great Sword.” He announced reverently, “Once wielded by the Knights of Cybertron themselves, this ancient weapon draws its power from within the warrior who wields it. Grasp its hilt and reveal to us the quality of your spark.”

 

“The quality of my… spark?”

 

Arcee really wanted to be a cyber-ninja. But her processor was still reeling from being outed, and the wild personalities of the Corps members themselves did nothing to help assuage her. However, she wasn't nearly ready to give up. Venting deeply, she reached out and wrapped her servo around the hilt of the weapon. 

 

“Woah!” Arcee gasped as blinding light spilled from the Great Sword and flooded the chamber with its brilliance. Opening her optic lids slowly to ensure the light show was over, she saw the locus of energy housed in the blade's guard had turned a soft magenta color.

 

As confusion mounted in her field, the Autobots gathered around her stared with varying degrees of shocked expressions. 

 

“W-What the frag does that mean, Dai?” Drifted asked, anxiety spilling from his field as he tightened his grip on the short swords at his waist. 

 

“I am-” Gently tugging the sword out of her servos, Dai Atlas examined his weapon with palpable unease. “-not sure... Jazz?”

 

“That’s… uh," Jazz leaned in for a loser look, idly stroking his pointy chin, "some kinda funky I’d say.”

 

“Sh-Should I go… sir?” She asked, nervously shifting gaze between the Master and his Great Sword.

 

Whatever had just happened was officially above Arcee's pay grade. And judging by their stunned reactions, she'd surely failed the test.

 

“No!" Dai Atlas blurted out, "I mean... wait just a moment please.”

 

"But... I failed, didn't I?" She asked, frowning up at him.

 

"On the contrary. You passed." He said confidently, "The more pure of spark and strong in will one is, the brighter the Great Sword's luminescence becomes. And yours proved to be quite impressive indeed.”

 

“Oh... I see." Arcee responded numbly, "And sword isn't broken or anything... right?”

 

“Hmph, certainly not!” Dai Atlas huffed, seeming slightly offended by her question. But as he looked at the change color of his sword’s light, he raised an optic brow and scratched the side of his helm, “At least… I do not believe so.” 

 

Well that doesn’t make me feel and better... Despite his reassurance, Arcee couldn't help feeling like she'd done something wrong.

 

“Why don’t ya head back to the MDC for now.” Jazz recommended and held a data stick out to her, “Download this into that sharp processor of yours and be back here in twelve breems for your basic training, dig?.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Slipping the data stick into her skirt storage, Arcee turned on her pedes and scurried to the exit, eager to leave. 

 

“Recruit!” But when Dai Atlas’s booming voice called out to her, she froze, “What was your designation again?”

 

Looking back to trio of cyber-ninjas, the Master's stern gaze sent a shiver through her circuits. Even if age had lessened Dai Atlas's short term memory capacity, he should have had her profile available to him at any time. 

 

“My name is Arcee, sir.”

 

“And where were you forged?”

 

“I’m sorry, sir…” Arcee apologized, knowing her answer would be insufficient. “I don’t remember where I came from.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“She’s dangerous!” Drift shouted, “There’s no record of where she came from. She looks entirely different from her profile in the intelligence database. And your sword only just now turned blue again! Why are neither of you concerned?!” 

 

As soon as Arcee left, he'd launched into an angry tirade against her.

 

“It's like I told ya before,” Jazz said, releasing a weary sigh. “she was improperly forged as mech and just recently transitioned to a new mold.” 

 

“Then why did she get so agitated when I brought it up?!” He demanded with a growl and narrowed optics.

 

“And why wouldn’t she be?” Dai Atlas interjected, disappointment flowing from his field, “Say you had lived in the wrong frame for more than five million stellar cycles… How would you feel if a total stranger confronted you over something so personal?”

 

“Well I-” Drift's vocalizer stopped short and his blue optics widened considerably. Shoulders sagging, he dropped his gaze to the metal floor, “I would probably blow a gasket…”

 

“Exactly.” Jazz nodded, satisfied that he'd finally come around, “The sword judged her to be worthy. And wild color or not, we don’t have the luxury of turning away viable recruits.”

 

“He is correct.” The Master rumbled in agreement, “Arcee may be... unusual, but a Great Sword of the Circle of Light would surely have rejected her had she posed a threat to Cybertron.”

 

“Tch, fine.” Drift grumbled and folded his arms across his chestplate, “But I got a funny feeling in spark she's hidin somethin.”

 

“Regardless, I will provide her first lesson when she returns.” Dai Atlas stated, leaving no room for further argument, “Then I will leave the remainder of her instruction to you and Jazz. Are we understood?” 

 

“No problemo, DA.” He agreed, saluting him with two digits.

 

“If I gotta…” Growling through his teeth, Drift spun on his pede and stalked away in a huff.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As Jazz sped away from the spire, he mulled over Arcee's contentious evaluation and the mounting pile of unanswered questions that surrounded her.

 

“Things just don’t add up…”

 

The drone's surveillance of the abandoned warehouse had been a bust. It showed no abnormal readings and no one had gone in or out in solar-cycles, including Arcee.

 

And now that she'd passed the Great Sword's test, Jazz was running out of logical reasons to distrust her.

 

“Guess I’ll just have to go with the flow and see where the chips fall.”

 

Jazz just had to hope they didn't regret trusting her.

Notes:

So I'm not going to focus a ton on the cyber-ninjas, but I love all the canonical members in the show, so I wanted to do more than cameos. Dai Atlas and Drift are technically canon members but there wasn't much lore on them in the animated universe. Let me know how y'all my versions of their character. I thought having patient grandpa and angsty teenager as a dynamic for them would be fun.

Chapter 24: Caught in the Crossfire

Summary:

Optimus presents Blackarachnia's request for amnesty to the Autobot High Council.

Notes:

(Rubs servos together deviously)

“Optimus Prime, you better have a good explanation for this- this farce!" Sentinel Magnus threatened. His grey face plates were already contorted with barely contained anger.

 

You're gonna really wish you hadn't asked, Sentinel

 

“Frankly, the document should be self explanatory." He retorted knowingly and folded his arms over his chestplate, "May I ask what exactly the council finds unclear?”

 

“Besides the… unlikelihood of a Decepticon requesting amnesty, it seems that this one has been operating in Metroplex City for some time.” He could already see where Cliffjumper was going with this. But he'd prepared for almost anything the they could throw at him, “Why have you not detained her for crimes against Cybertron?”

 

“And what crimes would those be, exactly?”  Optimus asked, arching an optic brow as he met the intel bot's gaze. “Besides joining the Decepticons, she has never actively committed hostile acts against us.”

 

The chamber fell in to silence when Cliffjumper slumped back in his chair with a curious look on his silver faceplates. Judging by the notes of curiosity in their combined fields, at least some of the councilors seemed open to hearing him out.

 

“Is your code glitching, Optimus?” Sentinel sneered and leaned over his desk to glare at him, “That… thing attacked us on Earth!” 

 

“First of all Sentinel," Optimus kept his emotions tightly under wraps. There was too much at stake to let the Magnus get under his plates, "Blackarachnia used to be an Autobot and your teammate. I would ask that you treat her like a person and not some kind of monster. And secondly, we broke into her lab and assaulted her, not the other way around.”

 

“None of that matters!” Sentinel snarled and banged his fists onto the desk plating, “It’s a Decepticon you second rate soldier! The only real way to deal with them is tossing every single one of them in a hole for the rest of time .”

 

“Sentinel Magnus,” Alpha Trion cut in and fixed the Magnus with a hard expression, “You would do well to speak to Optimus Prime with more respect, even under these… concerning circumstances.”

 

“Respect ?! I couldn’t have less respect for this flunky!” Sentinael declared, jabbing a digit in his direction.

 

Something wasn't right with his old teammate's behavior. He might have an even bigger ego than Megatron, and while Optimus expected him to be upset, Sentinel was seething with rage before from the moment he read Blackarachnia's plea.

 

“Yeah, we know .” Cliffjumper snapped and threw a crumpled ball of flimsy that bounced off the Magnus's helm, “But like it or not, he is part of this council and the bot who took down Megatron. Unlike you, he’s more than earned his position, in spite of everything.”

 

“Grrrrr!" Growling under his vents, Sentinel gripped the sides of his desk and cast his furious gaze around the chamber, “Does the rest of the council really intend on hearing out this mockery of justice?”

 

Sentinel massive chin clanked against chestplate as his mouth fell open in shock. Alpha Trion, Cliffjumper and Perceptor had all nodded their helms in agreement. Crossing his arms over his broad chassis, he dramatically fell back into his chair and grumbled angrily to himself.

 

That’s right, sit down. Optimus grinned in triumph. That was the hardest part of what he needed to accomplish over the course of the council meeting. Now that he was allowed to make his case, the rest would come easier.

 

"It is true that Blackarachnia has been illegally living in our city for several deca-cycles already. And yes, she has been operating an unsanctioned medical clinic in a secret location. Despite having copious opportunities, she has not harmed a single Autobot since she arrived. In fact, she has done the opposite. Every Autobot that has received treatment from Blackarachnia have given us testimonies corroborating the excellence of her work. I believe she has earned the right to directly plead this council for amnesty.” 

 

Now to bring it home… Not long after he began to prepare, Optimus stumbled across a classified personnel file that quickly became a lynchpin for his opening argument.

 

“Not only that, but we do have a legal precedent for granting Decepticons amnesty.”

 

Sentinel sat straight up in his chair with wide optics.

 

“What are you talking about, Prime?” He asked with what sounded like genuine curiosity and glanced to the other counselors. Considering the lack of surprise he felt in their combined fields, Sentinel seemed to be the only bot unaware.

 

“I am of course referring to Drift. The Decepticon who joined the Cyber-Ninja Corp with Dai Atlas’s support.”

 

“Tch, you're lying." The Magnus narrowed his optics as he casually threw the accusation. "Computer, display Autobot Drift's profile on all counsel monitors. Authorization: Sentinel Magnus."

 

Optimus didn't need to the read the document that appeared on his monitor, but the rest of the counselors appeared to be examining it along with the Magnus. After a few micro-cycles of carefully watching their facial expressions, he was pleased to see Sentinel recoil visibly in his seat.

 

“B-But- That doesn't-” His vocalizer stuttered as his field exploded with embarrassment.

 

As much as Optimus wanted to poke fun at his friend turned rival, there was more at stake here than pride.

 

“There are few bots on Cybertron who are as intimately aware of the Decepticon threat as I am.” Optimus placed a servo on his chestplate and made optic contact with the other council members, “But I also know that not every one of them is Megatron or Shockwave. If we treat everyone of them as an irredeemable villain, then we really will be no better than the likes of Megatron. I’m willing to stake my spark on giving Blackarachnia a second chance. The question is, are you willing to extend the offer.”

 

Sitting back down in his seat, he vented deeply and closed his optic lids. For the moment, it was out of his servos. He drew his attention inward while the others deliberated. Feeling out the subtle pulses of his spark as they mingled with the others flowing throughout the chamber, he could almost feel the thoughts of the bots around him as they developed. There was fear, deep rooted over the loss of something, tangible or otherwise. Suspicion was rampant, though not necessarily focused towards him. Or was that curiosity? The two were often hard to differentiate. But here and there, he felt tiny eddies of something... hateful.

 

“Optimus Prime’s logic is passable.” Perceptor announced in his monotone voice, snapping him out of his meditation. “If the Decepticon’s medical expertise is as impressive as this document implies, she could be a valuable asset.”

 

“Now wait a micro-kil-” Sentinel began to protest, but was interrupted when Cliffjumper loudly cleared his vocalizer.

 

“We should at least hear her out.” He added, pointedly glancing at the Magnus, “Then we can decide whether she can stay or not.”

 

“Hold on ! I’m still speaking!” He bellowed and stood up so fast that his chair fell over behind him.

 

“Behave yourself, Sentinel." Alpha Trion fixed him with a withering glare. "I believe we have heard enough of your reservations for the time being."

 

“If that’s the case, I would like to officially call for a vote.” Optimus’s spark surged with gratification as he raised a servo up, “All in favor of considering a plea for amnesty from Decepticon Blackarachnia?”

 

Every counselor raised a servo in support of his motion, except of course the Magnus He was busy fuming petulantly and glaring at him from across the chamber.

 

Suck it, Sentinel.

 

“The motion is approved.” Alpha Trion declared as he stood from his seat and braced his servos on his console, “We will reconvene in two solar-cycles to begin the hearing. Before that time, Blackarachnia will need to surrender herself to your custody, Optimus Prime.”

 

“I understand, sir.” Optimus inclined his helm respectfully to his senior counselor, “My team will take full responsibility for her containment and protection during the course of the proceedings.”

 

“Excellent.” Inclining his helm in return, Alpha Trion turned his stern gaze on the head of the Ministry of Science. “Perceptor, I would request your own staff to corroborate the depositions this document contains to your satisfaction.”

 

“Your request is accepted.” Though he tried to cover it by adjusting his glasses, Perceptor's optics flickered minutely towards Sentinel.

 

“With no further business to discuss, I declare this council session adjourned.” 

 

At Alpha Trion’s word, Optimus followed the others out, leaving Sentinel alone as the panels slid shut behind them. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

By the time Arcee pulled up in front of the clinic and transformed, the numbness that had smothered her field had been replaced by deeply rooted anxiety.

 

Her evaluation for the Cyber-Ninja Corps hadn't been anything like she expected. Yes, she'd been accepted. But Drift seemed to out right hate her for some reason. Even Jazz had subtly kept her at a professional distance compared to how he treated her before.

 

When Dai Atlas asked where she was from, she was once more forced to confront a hard truth that she longed to forget: Arcess had no memories of being a sparkling or a young bot.

 

All of the time before she walked alone into Crystal City with a fistful of credits and a directive to go to the teaching school within its walls was corrupted. Unrecoverable according to her systems. Attempting to delve deeper occasionally granted her flashes of images and feelings, but they were disjointed and abstract to the point of incoherence. 

 

Black clouds that crackled with plasma. 

 

The brittle metal of the surface plates staining her pedes gray with dust.

 

A servo on her backplate, pushing her forward through clouds of metal shavings and corrosive gases. 

 

I guess I don't really no who I am... do I?

 

Worst of all, Drift's words wouldn’t leave her processor. 

 

“Who even is this bot?! Arcee's profile says he's a blue mech, not a pink femme!”

 

They played on repeat in her mind. Over and over again.

 

Maybe it was because she hadn’t re-examined her pre-transition memory files in some time. It was just easier to not think about her time as a mech. There was still too much bitterness lurking in the recesses of her field over so much of her life lost to dysphoria.

 

But having one of the two most painful aspects of her existence thrown right in her face? It hurt like a blade driven into her spark. Doubts spilled from the wound, fed by her own processor's unstable coping mechanisms. Though it caused her distress to even consider, what were the chances her processor problems stemmed from memory loss and not the pain of being in the wrong frame?

 

What if I’m not really a… a…  

 

“It all makes sense now, Arcee.”

 

The sound of the velvety smooth voice elicited a spike of fear in her field that cut through her destructive processing. Snapping her gaze to the end of the street, she sucked in a startled gasp.

 

Jazz stood there, visor narrowed at her. Gripped in each of his servos were his signature Laser Nunchaku, activated and ready.

 

“Uh, sir? I'm not sure what you mean?"

 

This is bad. If he was here, they knew Blackarachnia was nearby. She needed to get away. They could be trying to draw her out.

 

“Don't play dumb." He rebuked, "Sentinel Magnus has a warrant out for the Con’s arrest. And yours. If you point us to her nest, we’ll go easy on the treason charges, dig?”

 

Arcee transformed into her car mode, already gassing her accelerator. Her tires screeched on the pavement as she sped away from Jazz.

 

She had just started slide into a turn down the next street when something heavy slammed into her. All four of her wheels lifted off the ground from the impact, causing her to automatically transform midair. Her brief flight came to a sudden, painful stop as she struck the wall of a nearby building. 

 

Arcee bounced off the hard surface and fell onto the road with a heavy thud. Pushing herself onto her servos and knee joints, her systems recognized the danger she was in and activated her combat systems.

 

Combat Systems: Offline 

 

Mother Fragger. Unfortunately, she had yet to receive authorization to engage her combat programming from the Autobots.

 

Before she had time to curse the government's bureaucracy for the second time in one day, her audio sensors picked up the sound of two sets of pedes closing in on her. 

 

Raising her optics from the dirty street, she saw the white and red plated frame of the ninja Drift joining Jazz's approach. He glared at her with a cold intensity while idly twirled his short swords. 

 

Arcee staggered to her pedes and backed up against the wall. She glanced around the street, searching for an out while keeping the mechs in her field of vision. But they'd boxed her in completely, and there didn't seem to be any other bots in sight who could help her.

 

“So what was the plan, traitor?" Drift hissed and leveled a sword directly at her face, "Learn all our tricks and sell us out to the Cons?”

 

“N-No! Of course not!” Arcee brought up her open servos to show she wouldn’t attack, “Blackarachnia really has been doing a lot of good! She helped heal my condition when no one else could. Please... don't do this. If you'd let me call Optimus, he can tell you that this is all a big misunderstanding!" 

 

"No can do. Even if he is a war hero, OP isn't responsible for national security. That's Sentinel's job." Narrowing his visor at her, Jazz slipped a pair stasis cuffs from his hip storage, "This is your last chance, Arcee. Tell us where to find the Decepticon. This doesn't have to get ugly."

 

She'd expected there would be bots opposed to what they were trying to do for Blackarachnia, but this was something else entirely. Betraying her was out of the question. Arcee knew what she was getting into before this whole thing started. If she had to take the fall for her, so be it.

 

"Sorry, sir." Straightening her posture, she fixed Jazz with a withering glare, "You've already made this uglier than even a Decepticon would."

 

“Drift, you know what to do."

 

“With pleasure .”

 

Sheathing both swords, he cracked his fists together with a menacing grin. 

 

Arcee closed her optics, already knowing what would be coming.

 

Clank!  

 

Drift’s fist cracked against her cheek plate. Pain shot through her circuits as she stumbled. Before she had a chance to regain her balance, he punched her abdomen hard enough to bend the delicate internals beneath.

 

"Oof!” The vents were knocked from her mouth and her sensors fuzzed over from the shock to her systems.

 

Arcee fell to her knees, barely managing to throw out her arms in time to keep from sprawling across the pavement. The world spun and blurred around her.

 

“Where’s the spider, traitor?” When she first met Jazz, she'd never imagined he was capable of speaking with such venom in his vocalizer.

 

But despite the fear and pain surging through her, Arcee refused to give them anything.

 

“I-I won’t tell you…” She groaned from the painful dent in her mid-section plating and looked up to meet the two mechs' cold expressions, "Blackarachnia deserves a chance... to prove herself..."

 

“Keep going.” 

 

Drift pulled back his fist and aimed it right for her face. Squeezing her optics shut, she steeled herself for the beating to continue.

 

A sound like snapping chords filled the air.

 

“What the fr-” Drift’s voice was cut off suddenly, followed by the thud of a body hitting the road.

 

Arcee opened up her optics to see the cyber-ninja coated helm to stabilizers in iridescent webbing and laying immobilized on the ground. He frantically struggled against the bindings as muffled noises came from his muzzled mouth.

 

“I'm afraid this interrogation has been indefinitely postponed.” Blackarachnia had the tips of her sharp legs pressed to the fuel lines in the sides of Jazz’s neck joint. "Drop your weapons, Autobot."

 

He complied immediately and allowed his nunchakus to slip from his servos. Kicking his deactivated weapons down the street, the Decepticon's four red optics focused on her.

 

“Arcee sweetie, let’s go.” She ordered with a grim expression on her purple and black face plates.

 

“R-Right…”

 

Pushing herself up onto her pedes, she staggered her way between the other Autobots to her side.

 

One of Blackarachnia's clawed servos took hold of her own in a firm grip. Wasting no time, she pulled Arcee away from the two mechs, releasing Jazz in the process. When his neck was no longer on the line, he turned around to watch them go, but made no moves to follow. 

 

As she was tugged down the alley and into the clinic in a daze, Arcee's injuries throbbed with pain. Maybe it was the poor state of her addled processor, but she'd caught a strange feeling from Jazz's field as they retreated. She expected him to feel anger over her perceived betrayal or frustration over having been taken off guard. Yet it was neither. Instead, it was more like he felt...

 

Satisfied?

Notes:

I was really nervous writing this chapter because it feels very significant the progression of the story. Hopefully it wasn't too bad. The second scene was a last minute idea, but it felt pretty good.

I totally forgot Animated Drift used to be a Decepticon when I wrote him in last chapter, but I sure was happy when I realized how helpful that would be to Blackarachnia's case

Idk what I'm really on about here.

Either way, I'm planning on about 6-8 more chapters for Transforming Arcee before I move on to part 2.

Chapter 25: Aftermath

Summary:

Blackarachnia tends to Arcee while Jazz and Drift take flak for their failure.

Notes:

As we all know, there are many fictional slurs and curses used in Transformers. Most of them have real world analogs that are used in similar contexts. However, I have taken a real-world word that is not inherently bad, but that is often used to invalidate or suppress trans people and put a Transformers universe spin on it.

Please keep this in mind as you read and I hope you enjoy the story as always.

"Lay down for me..." After helping Arcee get on the medical berth, Blackarachnia retrieved the servoheld electromagnetic she used for dents. 

 

Returning to the berth, she started with a quick scan of her patient's frame. She was relieved to see that her internals were intact, aside from some minor bruising. The tip of one of her sharp limbs slipped between Arcee's plates and injected her with nano-bots that would repair the damage beneath.

 

Satisfied with her prep work, Blackarachnia began to carefully rub the device back and forth over the dented plates of her abdomen. Arcee hadn't said a word since she pulled her off the street and away from the Autobots. She figured the pink femme was shock, but the vacant look on her face as she stared at the ceiling was beginning to worry her. Even her field felt off. Where normally it flowed from her readily in significant pulses, it was pulled so tightly around her that Blackarachnia could barely feel it at all.

 

“Close your optics.” She murmured and leaned over her face to work her dented cheek plate. Now that she was this close, she could actually feel fear simmering in the weak pulses of her spark.

 

Fuck you Sentinel... how dare you send your lackeys after her.  

 

She'd expected some kind of aggression from her old friend when Optimus presented her plea to the council. After all, he had gradually been grabbing power and influencing Cybertron’s populace for countless stellar-cycles now. There was no way he wouldn’t fight back in a desperate attempt to hold onto his momentum.

 

Recently, the City Guard’s presence in the area had doubled overnight. They'd already been subjecting the locals to random searches on the street. Just this morning, Dipole had sent her message informing her that some of the more careless businesses that engaged in less than legal activities had been closed down and had their owners arrested.

 

But to openly assault and interrogate one of their own in the streets? It was a level of boldness she hadn’t anticipated that coward would resort to... yet. For not the first time in recent memory, she considered the possibility that her plan was proceeding a little too quickly.

 

Despite the long list of processes running in her mind, one in particular could be addressed here and now.

 

“Why didn’t you run into the clinic when they showed?” She asked, finally breaking the silence between them. “You were right by the alley.”

 

Arcee sighed, sending a puff of warm air into her face.

 

“I didn't want to lead them right to you.”

 

Blackarachnia pressed her lips together in a tight line, but she was unwilling to pause her treatment and continued to repair the soft metals of Arcee's face.

 

She was willing to do that... for me?

 

On one servo, no one had ever taken a beating for her in her life, nor did she want anyone to. Had Arcee been less damaged, she would've said more than a few choice words about her risky decision. But on the other... it awakened something fiercely protective in the depths of her techno-organic programming. Watching the Autobot get interrogated by her own people on her surveillance cams had made her more afraid than she'd been in some time. And despite the chance that doing so would bring her whole plan crashing down around them, Blackarachnia rushed to her aid anyway.

 

“There, all done.” Setting aside the electromagnetic, she leaned back in her chair with her arms folded over breastplate, taking a moment for herself to process.

 

Arcee sat up off the berth and hung her stabilizers over the side. They were now face to face, but she just kept staring at her lap without actually meeting her gaze.

 

“What… do we do now?”

 

The Autobot's field had gradually begun to spread out again, allowing her to sense the churning anxiety that drowned out most every other emotion her spark was giving off..

 

“That’s simple.” Leaning her elbow joints onto the berth, she fixed Arcee with a small grin, hoping to put her at ease. “I need you to call Optimus and tell him exactly what happened out there. Can you do that for me?”

 

A bewildered expression grew on her pink face plates. A small vein of curiosity leaked through the turbulent pulses of her field as she processed. After a moment, Arcee nodded solemnly.

 

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.” She said with a little more energy in her voice.

 

“Great.” Blackarachnia smiled softly and reached out to cup her repaired cheek with a clawed servo, "Don't you worry, hon. They won't get away with this. I'll make sure of it."

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“What were you slagheads thinking?!” Sentinel bellowed at the two of them in the confines of his office. 

 

“Huh? All we did was follow your order-”

 

Bang! The enraged Magnus slammed his fist onto the surface of his desk, silencing Drift.

 

“I specifically told you to get the information out of that- that crossframer quietly!” His face plates were bright red with heat as rounded the desk and got right up into Drift's space. “What part of quietly did that glitchy Deceptiscum processor of yours not understand?!”

 

Drift narrowed his optics and pursed his lips. Judging by the anger roiling in his field, the ninja was just barely holding back a choice retort.

 

“Easy Sentinel." Jazz said placatingly, hoping to draw the Magnus's attention away from his friend, "There’s no need to-”

 

“SHUT UP!!” Sentinel snapped and turned his furious gaze on him as planned, “I expected more from you! Thanks to your foul up, I’ve got Optimus and the Council crawling up my aft for answers!”

 

“We may not have gotten our servos on Arcee. But we did get a lock on the Con’s hideout. Isn’t that what you wanted?” He retorted calmly in spite of the bigger Autobot bearing down on him.

 

After stellar-cycles of watching his superior’s unfiltered rage, Jazz remained unshaken by the dressing down they were getting. If anything, he knew exactly how to get under Sentinel's plates.

 

“Oh , you think so?” Sentinel said mockingly and glowered at him. “Except now we can’t even go near that... that thing... without taking more heat from the rabble!”

 

Steam puffed occasionally from the Magnus's mouth as he paced around the office, holding his giant chin in a servo.

 

“Well, what do you want us to do about it?” Drift asked in a distinctly petulant tone and cocked his hip.

 

“Oh I’ll tell you exactly what's going to happen, Drift.” Sentinel sneered and plopped back down into his large chair, “You two glitches are going to take the fall for your blunder. Now go back to the Matrix Chamber and stay there until the MPs come to get you. If either of you put another pede out of line, you’ll be sharing a cell with Megatron himself."

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Jazz. Otherwise you and I are gonna be royally fragged.”

 

“Just stay frosty, kid. With the way this is all playin out, we won’t even get stasis cuffed.” He said, trying to reassure Drift as they drove side by side back to the spire.

 

Jazz couldn't exactly blame him for being concerned. Had their failure to capture Arcee not been according to his plan, he would have already pulled a vanishing act.

 

After finally arriving at the spire, they transformed and headed inside.

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Drift spoke up again as they stepped into the lift, “I’m always down to throw a lug nut into somebot’s carefully laid plans. But why stick our neck joints out for Pinky and the Spider?”

 

“Because no matter what the rest of the Autobots do, we cyber-ninjas stick together. And Arcee is one of ours, untrained or not.” That earned him a huff from the other bot, but Drift remained silent. “I just needed to make sure she was really on our side.”

 

“Are you sure you ain’t short circuiting?” Drift narrowed his optics and knocked his knuckle joints on Jazz's helm, “Cause it looked to me like she chose the Decepticon over us.” 

 

Jazz  couldn't help chuckling at his short sightedness. Now, he’d be the first bot to admit his methods were often obtuse when seen from an outside perspective. But Drift should know better by now.

 

“I’d have to disagree with ya there, my mech.” When the lift panels slid aside, he strolled down the hall to the Matric Chamber with Drift following close behind, “Arcee was willing to take the heat for a Decepticon. She may be a lotta things, but a traitor ain't one of 'em. And that tells me the spider ain’t the real bad guy here. But Sentinel? I don’t have to tell you whose side he’s on.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Okay, they’re coming to get us now.” Arcee announced as she finished the call with Prime. 

 

Blackarachnia continued to scurry about the clinic gathering her essentials into a storage pack. For several kilicks, she sat in doctor's chair and watched her collect more items than appeared to fit inside the pack itself. Arcee considered pointing out that the MDC building has its own medical supplies and equipment. But she could easily have her own reasons for doing so.

 

“...That’s excellent…” She said eventually.

 

As focused on her task as she appeared, Blackarachnia seemed inexplicably distracted. Her field fluctuated wildly, calm one moment and agitated the next. There was a franticness to the subtle movements of her four red optics that began to concern her. After silently observing her a little longer to make sure she wasn't overreacting, Arcee decided it was time to check on her good doctor.

 

“Is something wrong?” She asked, "You seem... anxious."

 

“No, nothings wrong.” But after shoving yet another datapad into her pack, she sighed and set it on the computer's large console, “I’m just… ugh.”

 

Groaning in disgust, her spiked shoulders sagged as a pulse of shame rippled through her field. 

 

“You’re just…?” She prompted, hoping to encourage the Decepticon.

 

“I betrayed him so many times…” Blackarachnia answered morosely. "And... I think I hate myself for it... but also, for feeling bad about it in first place."

 

“I think that's understandable.” Arcee walked over and slipped a servo into into hers, “You spent so long just trying to survive, regret was a weakness you couldn't afford. But that's different now. We're here for you. And if Optimus still held any of that against you, there’s no way he’d be helping as much as he is.”

 

Four red optics focused on her, scrutinizing her with an almost hypnotic intensity.

 

“I hope you’re right…” She said in a hushed voice before interlacing their digits.

 

“I know I’m right.” Arcee retorted smugly and leaned into Blackarachnia’s side. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

About two breems later, the surveillance system chimed, letting them know someone was at the outer door. Arcee met the doctor's anxious gaze before she rolled her chair over to check the monitor.

 

“They’re here.” Blackarachnia announced blandly.

 

Walking up behind her, she gently rested her servo on the Decepticon's spiked shoulder. 

 

“Well, let him in then.”

 

Blackarachnia looked up at her with clear uncertainty in her four red optics. Releasing a tired sigh, she punched typed commands into the console to open the outer and inner doors.

 

The panels slid aside, allowing the sound of heavy pedes stomping on the clinic to filter in from the waiting room. When Optimus Prime squeezed his powerful frame through the corridor, his bright blue optics instantly focused on Blackarachnia.

 

“I-” But Prime stopped himself, closing his optics and covering up his mouth with a servo. After a moment, what could only be described as a truly happy expression spread over his features before his optics reopened, “I’m so... so glad to see you.”

Notes:

I'm so excited to have gotten this far! The story has taken a few interesting adjustments here and there, but so far, everything is going according to my plan even better than I expected. My brain is already jumping ahead and planning for part 2 and I can't wait!

Chapter 26: I Know Circuit-Su

Summary:

Back up arrives for Arcee and Blackarachnia.

Sometimes, she had a hard time believing Optimus was a real bot. Unfailingly loyal. Hopelessly positive. And at one time, her best friend.

 

He looked down at her, smiling like the dork he was.

 

“Thank you. Optimus.” Blackarachnia felt incredibly awkward right now. Gone was her casual confidence that sustained her over the years. She was convinced it has something to do with these two soft sparks , “We should go.”

 

“Yes!” Arcee blurted out, “We’re ready, thank you for coming to get us, sir.”

 

“You really don’t have to keep calling me ‘sir’.” He responded with a tired smile and began to squeeze back through the corridor to the waiting room. 

 

When she didn’t immediately get up, the pink femme grabbed hold of her clawed servo.

 

"Come on, you're gonna be fine."

 

Blackarachnia grumbled an assent and allowed herself to be tugged her out of the chair and on to her high heeled pedes. She one a last look around at the clinic that had become her pride and joy as she was led outside into the alley by the two Autobots.

 

“Arcee! Are you ok?!” Sari ran up the alley and stopped in front of her mentor, already looking her frame over, “I can’t believe Jazz attacked you!”

 

“Well…” She began, but briefly glanced back at her, “Blackarachnia saved me and fixed up my dents.”

 

“Reeeaally…?” Sari looked her up and down, scrutinizing her, “Ok then. Good job.” 

 

Her optics widened at the abrupt praise. Heat flooded her cheeks as she stared in open mouth praise.

 

“Hey boss bot!” At the end of the alley were the back doors of Bulkhead’s armored alt-mode. Standing atop the green van was Bumblebee waving to get their attention, “We’ve got company!” 

 

“Hostiles?” Prime asked as they ran up. The engineer’s wide form entirely blocked the exit to the street, keeping them from seeing further.

 

“Uhh, No?” He replied uncertainly, scratching his helm.

 

“If they’re not a threat that’s fine.” When he banged on Bulkhead’s doors, they popped open and he stepped aside. “Hop in Blackarachnia. You too Arcee. Sari, I want you in the air to spot us.”

 

“Yes, sir!” The mini-bot saluted dramatically and rocketed into the sky with her jetpack.

 

As Optimus closed them inside Bulkhead's troop compartment, she looked out through his windows curiously.

 

“There sure are a lot of people who came to see you off.” Bulkhead observed as the Autobots began to drive down the road. Around thirty bots stood along the sidewalks, watching them pull away. Some of them were even waving…

 

“You know…” Arcee began to say as she turned to her, “I think you made a bit of an impression on them.”

 

“Mmm… ” Blackarachnia hummed in response, unsure if she agreed. 

 

But as their convoy turned down the next street, she noticed the rounded, hulking frame of Dipole among the crowd.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“And these are your quarters…” Sari had been forcing her voice into a pleasant tone while giving the Decepticon a tour of the MDC habitation level. Optimus pulled Arcee aside for a conversation, so this duty had fallen to her.

 

“Mmm…” Blackarachnia hummed idly as she looked around the sparsely furnished room. 

 

“What? Not up to your Decepticon standards?”

 

Their guest had been almost completely silent and distracted the whole tour and it was beginning to annoy her.

 

“Huh?” Her four red optics turned to meet hers, “Oh! No, it's acceptable…”

 

“Tch, then what’s your deal??” Narrowing her fed up gaze, she’d had enough of being ignored, “Why are you spacing out so much?!”

 

“Well I-” But she stopped speaking mid sentence and brought up a digit to her fanged lips. “Why am I not being kept in a holding cell?” 

 

This again? The hybrid sighed and shook her head incredulously.

 

“It's safer for you down here with us than in the brig up top. We don’t want Sentinel to try anything again.”

 

“I see… Aren’t you worried I’ll betray you all? I could do a lot of damage from here.”

 

“Duh!” The teenager exclaimed, “That’s why we put a bomb in here!”

 

“A bomb?!” Blackarachnia recoiled in horror. Her optics widened as she frantically looked around the room.

 

“Ahahahahah!!” She doubled over with laughter after seeing the Con’s priceless reaction. Blackarachnia didn't seem nearly so amused.

 

“Very funny, kid.” She sneered.

 

“Why thank you, madam bug.” But after giving her an exaggerating bow, Sari allowed the humor to drop from her face. “The only reason we’re not keeping a closer eye on you is because Arcee and Optimus trust you. You’re not going to break their trust, are you? ”

 

“No!” Revulsion flowed from her field in a strong pulse. The outburst must have not been intentional, because she quickly cleared her vocalizer and idly smoothed her lab coat, “I mean… Of course I’m not going to do that.”

 

Interesting… Sari was still unwilling to trust her completely. If all of them let their guard down around her, the consequences of her possible betrayal would be catastrophic. But…

 

“You really are trying to do better, aren’t you?” It was obvious that she had changed a great deal since their confrontations on Earth. To what degree she’d improved, however, was still unclear.

 

Blackarachnia’s optics drooped as she looked away and crossed an arm over her breastplate to clutch her bicep. Her ability to read other bots fields was still not as fine tuned as she’d like, but the hybrid could pick out the anxiety and uncertainty in her spark.

 

“I-I am...” Her voice was quiet as she spoke, like she almost didn’t believe herself.

 

“Do you think you’re trying enough?”

 

“I don’t know…” Blackarachnia mumbled, still not making eye contact with her, “But I want to keep trying.”

 

Sari considered her for a moment. The Con was calm, but anxious. Her servo rubbed the side of her arm like she was trying to comfort herself. All four of her red optics were dim and unfocused. 

 

“I’ll hold you to that. Because if you don’t, I really will kill you , got it?”

 

Blackarachnia met her optics with a surprised expression, but she nodded anyway. Without another word, she turned and left the spider bot alone. Sari found herself hoping that she would never have to make good on that threat.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arcee tapped her pede impatiently as she waited for the lift to bring her up to the Matrix Chamber. She had wanted to stay and guard the doctor, but Optimus ordered her to attend the training session with Dai Atlas. 

 

When she had tried to protest, he had asked that she trust her teammates to protect her spark crush. It was hard, if not impossible to say ‘no’ to Prime when he got all noble and inspiring. If he and Blackarachnia did in fact have a romantic history, she honestly wouldn’t be surprised. He definitely had his moments.

 

“Oh! Almost forgot…” She retrieved the data stick Jazz had given her from the storage in her skirt armor. With the tap of a button, the panel on the inside of her left gauntlet slid open to reveal a simple console. After slotting it into the dataport, she downloaded the information.

 

Data poured into her processor in a torrent of numbers, images, and documents. The ancient history of the Cyber-Ninjas, their core tenets and beliefs. Countless forms and combat techniques for Metallikato as well as Circuit-Su. The theory of Processor-over-matter. Even the full roster of their ranks, online and offline alike.

 

By the time the lift came to a stop and opened into the hall full of holo-busts, the download was complete. The amount of knowledge that had just crammed itself into her processor was simultaneously thrilling and dizzying to behold. 

 

“Hopefully the Master can help me make sense of it…” 

 

The doors to the Matrix Chamber panels slid aside when she stepped up to them. She flinched initially, half expecting some kind of attack, but no ninjas jumped out at her. Only the hum of machinery filtered into the hall from within.

 

Walking across the floor of the circular chamber, she looked around for any of the three cyber-ninjas currently stationed at the spire. However, all she saw were the protoforms and the glow of their stasis alcoves.

 

“Uh, hello…?” She called out nervously, her soft voice echoing ominously throughout the chamber, “Jazz? Drift? Master…?”

 

“Thank you for coming, Arcee.”

 

“HOLY SCRAP!!” She screamed in surprise and leapt away from the source of the voice. When she spun around to see who it was, she had to look all the way up a massive frame to meet the amused optics of Dai Atlas. “H-How did you get there?!”

 

“I walked. Why? Did you not hear me?”

 

“No, sir...” Arcee idly tried to slow the rapid pulsing of her spark with slow even vents, “I didn’t hear a thing until you spoke.”

 

“Mmm, my deepest apologies.” The ninja sounded much more amused than apologetic. “Before we begin your first lesson, I would ask that you refer to me as Master. Those of us bound to the code of the Cyber-Ninja Corp must earn the right to be individuals. Then I shall no longer be your master. And you will never have another. ”

 

Huh?

 

“Um, I’m not sure I understand… Master."

 

“Are you so certain?” He looked down at her curiously. When she nodded in confirmation, one of his optic brows raised, “Tell me then… why did you not surrender yourself to Jazz?”

 

“Huh? What do you…” As Arcee searched her processor, she found what he meant in her short term memory.

 

“If you point us to her nest, we’ll go easy on the treason charges, ya dig?” 

 

“Because… I didn’t want them to catch her.” 

 

“But is she not a Decepticon? And one who worked for Megatron himself?”

 

I wanted to protect her… to help her even if it meant getting arrested and beaten. This was most certainly a test. Anything half sparked would be picked apart by the master ninja. Pity maybe? I’m also crushing on her pretty hard… infatuation? There’s already so much she’s done for me, without asking anything in return… Did I feel obligated to sacrifice myself?

 

But none of the reasons or justifications seemed quite exactly correct to her logic processor.

 

“Hmhm…” Dai Atlas’s chuckle vibrated through the room and her frame alike. “When you process a reason that feels… complete. You would do well to inform me.”

 

“Yes, Master.” 

 

“Now then, did you download the data for your training?” He asked in what she distinctively recognized as ‘the teacher’s voice’. One that was equal parts expectation and nurturing. 

 

I miss teaching.

 

“Yes, master, but I don’t exactly know where to start processing it all though.”

 

“Ah, that is what you have me for. This way, my dear.”

 

Dai Atlas turned around and began to walk towards another set of doors on the far side of the chamber. She followed behind his thundering pedes as he opened the sliding panels to reveal a martial arts dojo.

 

The walls and floors were painted red and black with barred pale window covers. Every surface was worn down with scuffs and scratches, making the paint job faded. The central floor dipped down between the second set of walls to make a small arena with padding built into it.

 

“Now, I’d like you to try some forms for me. Let’s start with Metallikato 1.0.” He requested after they stepped down into the training arena.

 

“Yes, Master.” She accessed the files and found what he asked for.

 

It appeared to be the steps to a beautiful dance that incorporated servo and stabilizer attacks into the moves. However, when she tried to upload it…

 

Combat Systems: Offline

 

“Frag.” Arcee hissed under her vent.

 

“Eh? Something wrong?”

 

“I’m sorry, master… My authorization for combat hasn’t gone through yet.”

 

Neither had her requests for profile and identification updates. They weren’t under Optimus’s purview so he couldn’t speed up the process. 

 

“Ah I see. No matter, show me your wrist console, please.”

 

“Oookaay…” Shrugging to herself, she held out her arm and folded back the console cover. 

 

Dai Atlas reached down with his servo, extending a pointer digit that was as wide as one of her arms. As it neared her arm, the digits tip slid aside to reveal a data port. When they connected, she received a new data packet.

 

“Now then.” He stood back up and released her arm, “Upload that first, then the training programs.”

 

Combat Systems: Online

Uploading Combat Data…

 

Dai Atlas had sent a highly encrypted code to her processor that overrode the standard programming lock on her combat system. It she felt like a shackle had been taken off Arcee's neck. When the other cyber-ninjas attacked her earlier, she she'd been powerless to stop them. From now on, that would no longer be the case.

 

“Ready, Master.” She announced eagerly and fell into the Form 1.0 stance.

 

The old Autobot let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. 

 

“Begin.”

Notes:

This was a fun chapter to write.

Don't expect too much more focus on the cyber ninja training mostly cause I don't want it to get tedious. But there will still be a bit more.

As a note, there will be no love triangle nonsense in my fic. If for some reason the characters grow beyond my control resulting in Blackarachnia and OP have feelings again, it will be poly friendly.

I'm curious what y'all get out of Dai Atlas's riddle to Arcee. I don't exactly have one specific answer in mind. But thats the point. She has to come up with an answer that feels right to her. One she can look someone in the optic and say without a doubt. I'll repeat the lines here for reference. The meanings that she could glean from these are not really exclusive to cybertronians either.

"Those of us bound to the code of the Cyber-Ninja Corp must earn the right to be individuals. But when you do, there will be no bot you must truly answer to."

"why did you not surrender to Jazz?”

Chapter 27: The Old Razzle Dazzle

Summary:

Blackarachnia speaks her peace.

Notes:

Hehehe... I've been waiting sooo long for this moment. Enjoy!

Blackarachnia turned at the sound of heavy pedes thumping down the elaborately decorated hall outside of the High Council chamber.

 

“Are you nervous?” Optimus asked, his clear blue optics meeting her with a serious expression on his face plates.

 

“Tch, me? Nervous? Of course not.” She waved him off dismissively, “And neither should you be. I know exactly what I’m doing.” 

 

Just as he opened his mouth to respond to her declaration, the sound of a ping came from Prime’s comm. Releasing a beleagured sigh, he turned to leave.

 

“That's my cue. The doors will open for you when it's time..." But he stopped just inside the entrance of a side corridor to call out to her, "And Blackarachnia?”

 

“Mm?” 

 

“Good luck.” A smile appeared on his lips just as he turned and disappeared into the building, likely heading to the counselors entrance.

 

I don’t need luck. She thought petulantly. Her gaze landed on the chamber doors once more. Beyond lay the battlefield of her choice where she would fight in her way. As always, she had many enemies ahead. And victory was far from assured. But this time was going to be different. Speaking of which...

 

Blackarachnia flicked her optics over to the pink Autobot leaning against the wall nearby. Her beautifully sculpted pink face plates were set in a stern expression as she continued observing her in unsettling silence. Arcee was just the first of her new allies. The fact that she had any at all changed the game entirely. And even if her favorite was acting suspiciously, they actually did make her feel more assured.

 

“Gonna tell me why those pretty little lips of yours have been so quiet?”

 

“I just… haven’t had much to say I suppose.” Arcee’s voice was quiet, reserved even.

 

“Wanna tell me what you're processing about?”

 

She knew engaging in conversation could distract her, but the Autobot's processes were frequently insightful in ways that surprised her. Maybe there was something pertinent on her mind.

 

“Oh- Um… Well I was thinking about a riddle the Master proposed to me.” She averted her optics and scratched a flushed cheek plate, “But also...”

 

“Also...?”

 

“I don’t usually get to see you without your labcoat, so I-” Arcee cringed as she hid her face behind her servos, “I was enjoying the view…”

 

Blackarachnia’s optics dilated in surprise. Heat flooded her systems and her processor stuttered to a jarring halt.

 

She actually likes how I look…?

 

The large doors ahead slid open, revealing the dimly lit council chamber.

 

Uhh, scrap! Quickly shaking the cloudy feeling from her processor, she focused on what lay ahead instead of who was at her side. There'll be time for that later.

 

“Let's go.” Blackarachnia said and sauntered inside. Arcee followed closely on her heels, still radiating embarrassment. 

 

The Autobot fliers Jetfire and Jetstorm stepped up behind them as they entered, flanking them stoically. 

 

The dark grey walls of the cavernous chamber stretched high overhead. Intricately crafted windows made of colorful transclear panels depicting Autobot heroes of old decorated the walls. The opulence and grandeur of it all made her hybrid spark roil in her chassis.

 

The counselors sat alone in large, circular council seats arranged along the sides with a second row for guest above them. They were packed to the brim with spectators of various frames and colors. Some leaned forward to try and get a closer look at her. Others with built in cameras seemed to be reporters for several different news networks.

 

Tch. She rolled her optics in disgust, If they want a show, I’ll give them one they won’t ever forget.

 

From his lone seat above all others at the far end, Sentinel glowered at her as she and Arcee stepped up onto the central platform. The wall behind him was emblazoned with a lightly glowing Autobot emblem, also rendered in red transclear panels.

 

To his left was the leader of the civilian commerce guilds, Alpha Trion. The position had been held by the old mech since before the Decepticon rebellion. Despite being one of the oldest living Cybertronians, his red and light purple plates were polished smooth. A long cape swept from his shoulder pauldrons and his horned helm perfectly framed his angular face. He observed her with a careful, but serene expression. After being in power so long, he must have nothing to worry about.

 

On Sentinel's other side was the head of Cybertron Intelligence, Cliffjumper. Though he shared the same compact mold with Bumblebee, his bright red plates and grey joints exemplified the differences between them. He was stockier and more heavily armed. She could see several abnormally place seams running over his plates. Likely hidden weapon placements or top of the line sensory systems befitting the spy master of the Autobots. He stared down at them with hard set optics.

 

In the seat on their right was the head of the Ministry of Science, Perceptor. His bespectacled face was absent of any expression whatsoever. Blackarachnia idly wondered if the scientist had actually managed to purge all emotions from his spark as he claimed. Before the cycle was over, she bet she'd have an answer.

 

And then there was Optimus. Newly minted head of the Ministry of Decepticon Containment. His shoulders were rigid with tension as he sat ramrod straight in his chair, blue optics flicking around the room without moving his helm. That same stern look he always used to wear soured his handsome features. Any other bot at the head of a division like his would have been hunting down and locking up Con's left and right. But he alone had the audacity to make it his mission to extend a servo to her in friendship, instead of slapping a pair of stasis cuffs on her wrist joints.

 

Allowing her gaze to sweep over the chamber and its occupants one more time, her fanged lips split in a wicked grin.

 

Now... let's dance.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arcee stood just behind the doctor, trying her best not to vibrate on her pedes with anxiety. Even though she wasn't the center of attention, there were still countless optics roving over the two of them. 

 

The only thing keeping her grounded under the gaze of all these strangers was the firm embrace of Blackarachnia’s coldly simmering field. She radiated tightly controlled precision. Like a predator coiled in anticipation of the meal to come.

 

It should have scared her. Not bolstered her own resolve.

 

Get a hold of yourself. You have a job to do.  

 

She took in a long, steady intake vent to settle her agitated spark. Since her combat systems were finally up to date, she had volunteered to be the Decepticon’s bodyguard. She would protect her with her life despite her incomplete training. Arcee hoped her life would be enough. 

 

“Decepticon Blackarachnia, the High Council will now hear your plea for amnesty.” The low murmuring drifting down from the spectator seats silenced when Alpha Trion’s aging voice echoed through the chamber.

 

“Why thank you , counselor.” Even under this immense pressure, her silky smooth voice oozed superiority. “I’m sure we all have better things to do today, so I’ll jump right to the point. All I want is to run my clinic here in the city peacefully. Surely that’s not too much to ask?”

 

“And why should we listen to anything you have to say in the first place?" Sentinel’s vocalizer was laced with contempt as he spoke. None of them held any illusions that he’d be receptive to her plea. "You should be in a cell right now. Buried where no one will see your freakish body ever again."

 

Arcee bristled with burgeoning rage in spark. But a stern glance from Blackarachnia reminded her to keep her composure.

 

"To answer your actual question, Sentinel,” If the insult had gotten to her, the Decepticon's voice betrayed nothing, “I'd argue that I'm a Cybertronian just like the rest of you. Well, not exactly like the rest of you. I was forged here. I grew up as an Autobot in this very city. Despite what you might think, this is my home. And I'm willing to help you all for the low low price of a second chance. In fact, I've already been helping our people when you just wanted them gone, or under your greasy thumb."

 

A low murmur carried through the crowd of onlookers. Sentinel just got angrier. The silver of his faceplates began to glow red with heat.

 

"How dare you suggest that I would do anything less than give my spark for the citizens of Cybertron!" He barked and leaned over his console, optics narrowed at her.

 

"Oh honey, I'm not suggesting anything at all." There wasn't an ounce of humor on her purple and black face. All four of her red optics flashed menacingly as she glared up at her former friend. “Those poor bots on the edge of the city need to get maintenance somewhere. And since you ordered the Ministry of Science to stop treating them, they’ve got nowhere else to go. So they came to me when their government failed them. A Decepticon.”

 

The silence her statement ended in was so complete, she could hear the sound of running ventilators carrying from closest bots around them. 

 

What is she talking about?

 

“Th-That’s an outrageous accusation!” Sentinel stammered out, his rage having quickly given way to fear.

 

You unbelievable bastard.

 

“Do you have any proof, Blackarachnia?” Optimus stood from his seat and leaned forward with his servos braced on his conole. His light blue face plates were pinched in angry scowl. 

 

“As a matter of fact, I do .” After producing a data stick from her waist storage, she tossed it gently to him. Optimus caught it deftly with a blue servo. “Enjoy.”

 

While he watched the screen on his console in focused intensity, everyone else watched him in rapt attention. 

 

“Optimus Prime,” Alpha Trion called out to him after a few micro-kilicks, “what is this evidence?”

 

“Watch.” He commanded and turned his gaze towards the colorful windows above their helms.

 

Each recessed in unison, allowing a dark screen to slide out from within the wall. As they flickered to life and displayed two separate video feeds. Half of the screens depicted Perceptor. While the other half showed Sentinel's dumb face, looking smug and annoyed.

 

After a moment, they began to play.

 

“How is our… initiative progressing?”

 

“Every medical facility in the city is in full compliance with your suggested patient regulations.”

 

“Prime! Turn that off this instant!” Sentinel hollered, but no one paid him any mind.

 

“However, your projection that those affected would join the military once their situation became untenable has not occurred.”

 

“What?! Those rust buckets should be desperate for our help by now! What happened?!”

 

“That’s a… classified personal log…” But his voice slowly lost it’s strength as the tape continued to ruin him.

 

“It appears they have found an alternative source to meet their needs. There is a 78.2 percent probability that an unlicensed provider has begun operating within the city limits.”

 

“Hmm… We’ll have to keep up the pressure then. If they think they can break the law in my city, they’re sorely mistaken."

 

“Uhh…” Now Sentinel was just moaning pathetically as his face dropped into his waiting servos.

 

“Sir, if I may recommend-”

 

“I don’t need your recommendations, I need results. Now go do your job while I get back to running Cybertron.”

 

“As you say Sentinel Magnus.” Perceptor’s feed cut out there, leaving the Magnus’s recording for everyone to focus on.

 

“Tch, what an imbecile. Cybertron will be great again. Even if I have to throw every last broken down bot and deviant in prison to do it."

 

The screens went black, plunging the chamber into a pregnant silence.

 

“S-Sentinel, Perceptor… What is the meaning of this?! ” Alpha Trion demanded as he stood to his full, imposing height. The imperiousness of his hard gaze sent a nervous charge through her systems.

 

The old Autobot had been on one type of battlefield or another for as long as she could remember. But even during the height of the war, she’d never heard him raise the volume of his vocalizer in anger.

 

The Magnus wasn’t even paying attention anymore, but the scientist’s frame went rigid and his optics bulged in his helm as the focus turned on him.

 

“Well don’t blame poor Perceptor, now.” Blackarachnia’s vocalizer sounded sympathetic, but Arcee could already tell it was fake. “After all, he was the one who brought this to my attention. It was my clinic that Sentinel wanted to shut down, so he decided to do the right thing .”

 

“Is that true, Perceptor?” Optimus asked, turning his furious gaze on the scientist.

 

“Utzz.” Static came from Preceptor's mouth as he tried to speak. But he cleared his vocalizer so he could respond, albeit with a small voice. “That is correct.”

 

Wait a nano-klick… Arcee tilted her helm to get a better look at the Decepticon’s face. Sure enough, she had a toothy smirk turning up her purple lips. Clever.

 

“Alrighty then!” Blackarachnia spoke enthusiastically and clapped her servos together, garnering the attention of the chamber to her, “Do you Autobots have any more questions for little old me? Or do you need some time to process?”

Notes:

I just could not stop imagining Blackarachnia in Billy Flynn's scenes from Chicago. Especially the marionette musical number, but she's got Perceptor on web strands with her digits.

Chapter 28: Discontentment

Summary:

The aftershocks of Blackarachnia's plan shake Cybertron.

It had been the council’s decision to invite the media to Blackarachnia’s hearing. They hoped that making the proceedings public would either allow the citizens of Cybertron to witness a reformed Con being welcomed back into the fold or to make an example out of a known criminal.

 

Unfortunately for them, their hope was sorely misplaced.

 

The recording of the Autobot leader being publicly defrocked spread across the planet like an out of control electrical fire. Every news network replayed it to the shocked responses of their casters. It was being discussed in every workplace, home, and bar by bots of all kinds.

 

Even in The Proton Blaster, the news monitor played the footage to an audience that was becoming rapidly agitated.

 

“Who does he think he is?!”

 

“This is the last sprocket, I’ve had it with those high and mighty bots!” 

 

“He’s the real parasite, I tell ya.”

 

“Yeah! And they’ve got our doctor right in their clutches…”

 

“We can’t let them take her, what’re we gonna do?”

 

Dipole listened attentively to the angry bots’ frenzied discussion, waiting for it to escalate just enough.

 

“Somebot should go give the High Council a piece of our processors.”

 

“They’d never listen! You heard what the great Magnus thinks of us rust buckets .”

 

“We have to do something! Otherwise who knows what’ll happen...” 

 

“But what can we even do...?”

 

There.

 

“I know what should be done.”

 

Dipole announced with her gravelly voice. The moment she spoke, the heated back and forth of the patrons quieted. 

 

She had been running the Proton Blaster since the Great War ended. Over that time, she'd seen the ebb and flow of the city around her. Bots came and went. Some to never return. But they always came back here at the end of hard cycle to relax and lament their lot. Everyone on their side of the city knew her. Trusted her. The one always there to offer a strong arm, or even stronger council. 

 

In spite of her role in the shadows of this run down stretch of the once mighty Cybertronian Autocracy, Dipole understood that there was only one way to make change.

 

You grab it by the throat. And shake til it stops struggling.

 

It had barely taken a few whispered words in confidence to specific patrons and the news about Blackarachnia's arrest spread faster than a nano-virus in a crowded restaurant.

 

“We must go directly to the Metroplex and show them that we are here and that we deserve to stay online. We need to show them that we’re not going to be offlined quietly.”

 

“So uh, whatta we do then, Dipole?” Even the cowardly Rattletrap himself had been drawn into the fervor.

 

“Anyone with access to spare plating or welding lasers should get what they can and bring it back here. The rest of you, go to every bot you know and tell them to meet outside the bar.” She explained. With each word, the crowd became increasingly focused and determined.

 

“What are we going to do, Dips?” Botanica asked to her as she leaned over the bar.

 

“We’re going to march right up to the Metroplex and make ourselves heard, together .”

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“So, did that go how you wanted?” 

 

“Hm?” Blackarachnia looked up from her data pad at the sound of Arcee’s voice. 

 

She was sitting in one of the waiting areas inside the High Council building. The hearing had been adjourned so the Autobot leaders could do damage control as the repercussions of her ‘ plea ’ began to play out. Needless to say, she was more than pleased.

 

“Actually, it appears to be going even better than I expected.”

 

“Mm?” Arcee hummed in curiosity as she lowered herself onto the other end of the couch. “How so?”

 

“You’ll just have to wait and see, my dear.”

 

Blackarachnia winked at her and bit the bottom of her lip. The Autobot's soft blue optics widened. Her pink cheek place burned with red heat.

 

Cute.

 

“Uh, hm.” Arcee huffed, idly rubbing the back of her helm bashfully. “Sooo, what’s next then?”

 

“Oh don’t worry your pretty little processor, you’ve done more than enough so far.”

 

It was better she didn't know the details anyway. When her plan inevitably went tits up, Arcee would at least be free of responsibility. Refocusing on her data pad, she continued to work.

 

“Fine. Don’t tell me anything.”

 

The Autobot’s field pulsed with genuine frustration, tearing her attention from the data pad. Arcee sat staring at the darkened window on the other side of the room, slim arms crossed over her breast plate. Her expression was hard. Focused on something seen only by her. It was a look she'd only seen on the bubbly femme a few times now.

 

Whenever things got tough, something... changed in her. Her demeanor closed off. Her focus sharpened to a razor sharp point. The warm pulses of her spark flowing through her powerful field stilled. Like a lake of water so still that ones reflection could be viewed in perfect clarity. Yet there was a tremor. Intermittent and faint, almost nonexistent. It simmered beneath the surface, but never cracked the façade. 

 

A chill shot through her circuits. 

 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, shaking off the strange feeling and setting aside the data pad. Blackarachnia scooted a little closer. But she reframed from reaching out to her.

 

“I guess I hoped you would trust me soon...” Arcee answered and dropped her gaze to the floor.

 

Blackarachnia narrowed her optics. She'd heard this particular lecture before. This was the absolute worst time for Arcee to try and have it with her.

 

“Tch, I don’t trust anybot but myself.” She sneered and snatched her data pad back up.

 

If the Autobot knew what was good for her, she'd drop the conversation. After a few kilicks of silence as she typed away on her pad, Blackarachnia's sensors registered a pair of soft blue optics focused on her. 

 

The doctor waved dismissively at her, having heard this lecture before. However, the pain coming from her former patient’s field gave her enough pause to look up.

 

Her optic brows were scrunched together. The corners of plump magenta lips were turned down in a crooked frown. Ripples of pain rolled through reaches of her field, disturbing the tightly gripped peace. Arcee was hurt by what she said.

 

“That’s… incredibly sad, Blackarachnia.”

 

The Decepticon’s optics flashed red as she shot to her pedes and whirled on the Autobot.

 

“I don’t need your pity! ” She hissed, looming over the femme. Arcee flinched away from her. Pressing herself deeper into the couch. 

 

“I-I-I didn’t mean it that way!”

 

And then her anger vanished. Swallowed by Arcee's quavering optics. The last time the Autobot looked at her like this, she'd crushed dents into her wrist joints. She was afraid of her. 

 

Shit!

 

“I’m sorry!” She brought up her clawed servos placatingly and stepped back. “I Shouldn’t have said those things… It's been so long since I’ve had anyone around to trust. If anything, you’re the first person that-”

 

Her vocalizer caught on the words. Arcee's expression softened. 

 

“That…?” She prompted.

 

That I was wrong. Scared. Angry. More bitter than bot. But there just wasn't time to go through the whole list.

 

“That… I do trust.”

 

Blackarachnia swallowed her anxiety and smiled softly at the Autobot. Her optics widened slightly, but soon crinkled. Arcee grinned up at her. Their two vastly different fields ebbed and flowed around them in a steady rythym. Merging the emotional swells of their sparks. Eventually, Arcee cleared her vocalizer and leaned back in the couch, crossing one stabilizer over the other.

 

“By the way. That move with Perceptor was a nice touch.”

 

“Heh.” Blackarachnia chuckled appreciatively and plopped back down on the seat. “Noticed that did you? Impressive. ”

 

“Did you see his optics? I thought his glasses were gonna fly off his face!” Arcee’s frame shook with giggles. Her infectious good moved soon had the hardened Decepticon doubled over in laughter beside her. At some point, her servo had come to rest on Arcee's magenta plated thigh.

 

Hmph, okay maybe I am funny... 

 

“Ahem.”

 

Blackarachnia immediately removed her servos from the Autobot’s armor and spun around to see Optimus Prime standing in the now open doorway.

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

 

“Nope!”

 

“No, sir!”

 

She blurted out the hurried response at the same time as Arcee. Out of the corner of her optics, she saw the red coloring the femme's cheeks, likely mirroring her own dark purple ones.

 

“Uh huh." Shaking his helm as he entered, it obvious he didn't believe them. "Regardless, I think there’s something you should see, Blackarachnia.”

 

“And what’s that?” She asked, scrutinizing his stiff demeanor more carefully now.

 

“Actually, it's probably better if I show you. Follow me. You too Arcee.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It took a few kilicks for Prime to lead them up to the observation deck atop the High Council building. As they walked towards the railing at the edge, it became startling clear to Arcee what they were here for.

 

“Look at them all…” She said, not bother to hide the awe she felt seeing over three hundred Cybertronians assembled on the promenade below.

 

It was the largest gathering of her people she'd seen since the Great War. There just weren't that many of them left. If she had to guess, it was about a fourth of the total population of Metroplex City. Here and there, some of the bots held signs that were just far enough away that she needed to zoom her optics in to read.

 

“‘Let her stay, make him go.’ Do they mean…?”

 

“Having spoken to them myself, that’s exactly what they mean, Arcee.” There was no mistaking the pleased tone of Optimus's voice, but he still kept it measured and light.

 

Always the perfect soldier.

 

“What an interesting development.”

 

Blackarachnia’s glib response caught her off guard. Turning her attention to the taller femme, her purple face plates were schooled into a neutral expression. Not an ounce of surprise or elation was in her field. She was all tightly calculated control once more.

 

I guess... she’s not surprised?

 

“You’ll just have to wait and see, my dear.” 

 

No way. Hoping to confirm her suspicions, she began to scan the crowd more carefully. After a few micro-kilicks, her optics caught sight of the red and blue bicolor frame of Dipole in the thick of the crowd. 

 

“Hmph, looks like Bulkhead was right. I did make an impression on them.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Sentinel, do you have anything to say on your own behalf?” Alpha Trion's voice echoed through out the chamber.

 

The Magnus's council seat was empty. Sentinel instead stood atop the platform on main floor, below his former colleagues.

 

"Only that the council is making a big mistake. Cybertron will never return to its former glory if we let freaks and burnouts run rampant across our planet.”

 

He may have lost here, but he would still hold his chin high with pride. 

 

They have no idea how much they’re fragging up right now.  

 

“I believe your ‘opinions’ on who should and who shouldn’t be allowed to live on our home are no longer welcome here, Sentinel.” Sentinel whirled on his former friend. 

 

“The only reason you’re bot enough to say that to me is because you’re stealing my hard earned position!” He growled. "I can't believe you'd stoop so low just to grab power over me!"

 

“I believe you are under some kind of misunderstanding, Sentinel.” Alpha Trion interjected, drawing his attention.

 

“And what would that be?”

 

“Optimus Prime has refused the position of Magnus. We will be selecting another Autobot to replace you.”

 

He… didn’t take accept it?

 

Sentinel turned back to his old friend with wide optics.

 

“Then who…?”

 

“That is no longer your concern, citizen .” Cliffjumper’s smug voice roiled his spark as he glared down at him. “Perceptor, if you would.”

 

The scientist stepped down from his circular seat and approached the central platform. 

 

“Hold still.” He commanded in his monotone voice as his left servo transformed into a medical cutter.

 

His frame went rigid as he realized what was about to happen. After all his hard work. Everything he sacrificed... it was all for nothing. With a few passes of the laser over his chest plate, Perceptor removed the wings from his Autobot badge and returned to his seat.

 

“Sentinel, you are hereby dishonorably discharged from the ranks of the Elite Guard." Optimus stated disdainfully. "You will also be barred from holding military or government positions. You are dimissed.”

 

"No, you're dismissed!" He spat.

 

Spinning on his heel, Sentinel stormed out of the chamber.

 

They’ll regret this. I swear it! He just needed to get out of here and gather his resources. There were bots who would beg to have him on their side. It won’t take a mega-cycle for them to come crawling back. All I have to do is-

 

“Why isn’t that Sentinel Magnus? ”

 

The sound of that silky voice calling out to him stopped Sentinel in his tracks. Stepping out from the shadows of an alcove was the abomination who ruined his life. Twice. 

 

“YOU!” He shouted, stomping over to glower at it. “I won’t let you get away with this you- you monster .”

 

“Why Sentinel, darling, you wound my spark.” The Decepticon feigned being hurt and placed a servo over its breastplate. “Lucky for me, I already have gotten away with it. Now you’re just a loser with an embarrassingly large chin. Seriously, how do you see your own spike past that thing? ”

 

Every oily word it spoke raised the temperature in his face plates until steam was puffing from his mouth. 

 

Not here.  

 

Sentinel averted his optics from the disgusting creature and marched away. His servos were clenched so hard he could hear the metal in their joints creak.

 

Time to do things my way. Then they’ll never question me again...

Notes:

Oooh getting close to the end now.

This was a surprisingly difficult chapter to write, so I hope it turned out alright.

Chapter 29: Master of Puppets

Summary:

Blackarachnia and Arcee hear the High Council's decision.

As the main doors to the High Council opened, the atmosphere within was palpably different than the previous time Arcee had accompanied Blackarachnia. 

 

Jetfire and Jetstorm still moved up to flank them as they approached, but gone were the throngs of onlookers from the spectator seats. The council was already present as usual. However, the Magnus's seat was noticeably empty. Though number of bots in the room was significantly reduced, the thick tension in their combined fields spread over them like a low intensity acid wash.

 

The only one in the room who seemed to be in a good mood was Blackarachnia herself. Her field practically oozed satisfaction with every pulse of her hybrid spark. A toothy grin was spread across her lips when her optics locked onto Sentinel's former seat power.

 

As pleased as Arcee was that he was gone, she couldn't ignore the few lingering doubts that lurked in the edges of her processor.

 

"I promise I’ll tell you more afterwards. Just… keep trusting me for now, please.”  

 

She wanted more than anything to turst Blackarachnia completely. But the Decepticon had clearly been playing a more devious long game than any of them had expected. Sentinel's disgrace. Blackmailing Perceptor. The public outrage over the Autobot government's abhorrent policies. Dipole's discreet presence in the background of everything that had happened so far. And while she wasn't remotely responsible for the systemic problems on their world, Blackarachnia most certainly had her webs meticulously spun through all of them.

 

We're all dancing to her tune on strings of silk. It scared her how precise every one of her moves were. Am I just another puppet for her to manipulate?

 

But her spark told her the Decepticon was on their side. Arcee kept reminding herself of that fact, hoping with all her might that it was true.

 

“Decepticon Blackarachnia, we thank you for your patience.” Alpha Trion said, greeting the doctor with a respectful nod.

 

“No biggy.” She shrugged in indifference, cocking her hip joint as her optics roved over the councilors, “Now, do you bots have a verdict I can take home with me?”

 

“We do.” Optimus confirmed with a pleased smile, “The council has decided to grant your plea for amnesty.” 

 

Arcee’s spark pulsed with excitement. But when she turned to grin at the Decepticon, all four of her optics were narrowed in suspicion.

 

“I’m sensing a but?”

 

“We have conditions.” Cliffjumper said as he leaned forward onto his console, “You will be required to operate your clinic under the supervision of the Ministry of Science. Any unauthorized contact with other Decepticons will violate this plea arrangement. You will also need to officially disavow yourself of the Decepticon cause and become an Autobot.”

 

A pulse of something... oily flowed from Blackarachnia's field for a brief moment. It sent a shiver through her circuits.

 

“Are you sure that's what you really want of me?” Her cold red optics flicked from one Autobot to the next. 

 

“These are the council’s conditions for granting your request.” Perceptor raised an optic brow at her, “If you have reservations about the terms, now is the time to speak.”

 

“I'm all for meeting your regulatory standards, but why would any of my patients trust me anymore if I joined the Autobots? You were the ones who shafted them in the first place. Not me. And besides, how do I know you're not just going to use me and toss me aside the moment I don't meet your expectations?"

 

Arcee cringed in the silence that followed. Her gaze dropped to the floor, knowing all too well that the Decepticon was right.

 

"Be that as it may," Alpha Trion said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, "you are a Decepticon. Our citizens will certainly object to you living in our city without supervision for the foreseeable future. At a later time, this oversight may be lifted for good behavior."

 

"But Alpha Trion- Sir," Optimus interjected with concern etched onto his faceplates, "Having spoken with the citizens outside, many of them have valid concerns about this very council's ability to take care of them. This solution doesn't even come close to addressing them."

 

Perceptor cleared his vocalizer and adjusted his spectacles.

 

"And how do you recommend we alleviate their feelings?" 

 

After his visceral reaction to Blackarachnia's ploy at the last session and the clear disdain in his monotone voice now, Arcee was having serious doubts that the scientist had actually purged himself of all emotion.”

 

“Hey, you know what?" The Decepticon cut in brightly with a light clap of her servos, "I just thought of a compromise that might make everybot happy!” 

 

She noticed Cliffjumper and Alpha Trion share a hesitant look, but Optimus leaned forward in his seat with clear interest.

 

“What is this compromise?”

 

“Now before you object, just hear me out, deal?” She pleaded earnestly.

 

Despite the palpable trepidation in their fields, the Autobots nodded in assent. While the counselors might be partially taken by her tone and friendly demeanor, Arcee saw right through it.

 

This should be good… or catastrophic.

 

“Why not appoint a new High Council position? Someone who the citizens trust. I would answer to them, and they can answer to will of the council."

 

“That's absurd." Cliffjumper tutted, "Why would we elect a new counselor just to oversee you?”

 

“Who says that has to be their only duty?" She retorted, "Besides, for a body that claims to represent the will of the people, they don't seem to have much of a choice who exactly does the representing. Make it an elected position, and that'll certainly be a good first step to earning back public trust.

 

And here I thought she was just a scientist... Arcee never had the cunning for politics. But the Decepticon was navigating this particular arena with expert technique.

 

“I agree with Blackarachnia.” Optimus crossed his arms over his broad chestplate and looked to each of his fellow counselors, “Though my own time on the High Council has been short, its is clear to me that the public has little direct influence on our decision making.”

 

Alpha Trion sighed. He idly stroked the long, flexible metal of his goatee. Even with his immaculately maintained frame, the retired warrior looked his vast age now more than ever.

 

“Say we do expand the scope of the council. Blackarachnia cannot remain a Decepticon.”

 

"Oh I agree wholesparkedly." She conceded. Though, she frowned again and tapped her chin with a digit in thought. "Buuuut wouldn't forcing me to become an Autobot be just perpetuating the system Sentinel was trying to enforce? Say I'm not the last Decepticon that comes home, looking for a new start. You really think they'll be any more eager to be under the command of the bots who oppressed them all those millions of stellar cycles ago?"

 

"They will if the know what's good for them." Cliffjumper said. But the stern gazes of Alpha Trion and Optimus made the spy master cringe in his seat.

 

"I do believe I am beginning to see her point." Alpha Trion muttered and rubbed the side of his helm with a servo.

 

“How about another compromise?” Blackarachnia said eagerly. Her field was tightly wound with a mixture of anticipation and... hunger? The toothy grin she wore looked far to real to be fake.

 

“I do not see how there can be a middle ground on this issue.” But Perceptor's objection only made her smile stretch wider.

 

“That’s the beauty of it! We establish a brand new faction!"

 

Shock and disbelief rippled through the combined fields of the High Council. Arcee stared at the back of her doctor's helm, feeling every bit as blind sided as they were.

 

“That is totally out of the question!” Cliffjumper shot to his pedes, glaring at the Decepticon, “A new faction would only divide our people further! It would be the Decepticon rebellion all over again!"

 

"Trust me," She raised her servos to the red Autobot placatingly, "I understand that particular concern perfectly. But the reality is that our people are already divided. The Decepticon Civil Rights movement started because of the Autobot's rigid ideals. This time will be different. If the High Council takes the lead on its formation and appoints a representative, it gives every Cybertronian, Autobot or Decepticon, more choice and ensures future cooperation between us. Hell, I'd be willing to renounce Megatron entirely. We could even make the badge red to show our unity."

 

No bot spoke immediately after she finished. Unease radiated from their fields as they silently looked to one another for guidance. Either that or they hoped someone else would speak up first.

 

Optimus vented heavily and pinched his nose between his blue digits.

 

“I have to admit, it is an elegant solution to our dilemma, even if I don’t like it.”

 

“Sure sounds like a compromise to me!” Blackarachnia added with a slag eating grin as she winked at him.

 

"It bears benefit of never having been attempted before.” Alpha Trion spoke slowly and deliberately this time, maintaining optic contact with the Decepticon, “An addendum to the Tyrest Accord would be necessary to facilitate the establishing of a new faction. As the first of its members, your signature would be required. Were the treaty to be broken, you would be held accountable, Blackarachnia.”

 

“Well well, that seems more than fair to me.” She said, shrugging her spike shoulders.

 

“And what would this faction be called exactly?” Optimus asked, raising an optic brow.

 

Arcee watched the proceedings with awe in her processor and anxiety in her spark. 

 

A new faction was being created before her optics. Truly it was history in the making. But it was all according to Blackarachnia's designs. Whether those were for good or ill, however…

 

I intend to find out. She was in the unique position of being the bot she trusted more than any other. And no matter how incomplete that trust might be, Blackarachnia had let her in. But... what if I don't like what I find?

 

Truthfully, she didn't even want to process that possibility.

 

“Let's see..."

 

Blackarachnia pretended to process, biting a thumb beneath one of her fangs. After a few micro-kilicks, she grinned wickedly as her optics flashed red.

 

"How about you call me... a Predacon."

Notes:

I'm so happy to finally get here! I had this in mind from the very beginning. My thought was to build on it in a way similar to how Beast Wars canon approaches the Predacons, but with an animated spin on it.

My biggest challenge was getting to this point in a believable way. I sure hope I managed to do that.

Chapter 30: A Pointed Rebuke

Summary:

The High Council announces their decision to all of Cybertron.

Notes:

Ooooh boy I think I'm gonna bump that rating up just a smidge.

Edit: Accidently posted the last chapter in addition to the new one. Now fixed!

 

Beep…

 

“This is Sari.”

 

She had just finished the only meal she needed to consume for a few days when her comm pinged. It was a simple feast of reconstituted hamburgers.

 

Yum.

 

Luckily for her, their communal living area was empty at this hour. She hated talking on the phone with other people around.

 

“Hey, it's Arcee.”

 

Sari frowned at the melancholic tone of her voice.

 

“Are you alright? What’s going on over there? It's crazy outside.”

 

“We’re just about finished. The council is going to address the crowd directly. I really shouldn't say anymore...”

 

The techno-organic groaned in frustration. Everyone was talking about the council proceedings. They outraged, hurt and angry. And if the protestors outside the High Council building were any indicator, they wouldn't take any half measures very well at all.

 

Sari was not surprised in the slightest.

 

“Pleeeeeeeaaase Arcee?" She pleaded in an exaggerated fashion, "Can you at least tell me if it went good or bad? The suspense is literally killing me.”

 

Arcee vented heavily. She could almost feel the other femme's worry from here.

 

“I-Um... I don't know how to feel about it yet...”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

A myriad of possibilities rushed through Sari's mind. The trepidation in her mentor's voice fueled her own anxiety, making each prediction more upsetting than the last.

 

“I can't say exactly... But I need to talk to Blackarachnia to know for sure.”

 

“Not that I don’t love talking to you, but why did you call me instead?”

 

“I guess… I needed a pep talk.” Arcee admitted, sounding more tired than she had in some time, "I don't know if I'm being objective or not."

 

If I were crushing that hard on Blackarachnia, I'd be worried too. Sari might not have known much about romance until Arcee's talk, but she'd spent the last few days deep diving into the internet to learn everything she could. Not that the two of them weren't painfully obvious. At least know what a useless lesbian is now.

 

“I’ve got you, girl.” Sari declared enthusiastically, “Out of all of us, she cares about you the most. Just tell her how you really feel. I think she’ll listen if you're worried.”

 

“Sari…” Arcee’s voice was thick with emotion, “You’re the best.”

 

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

 

“Oh, uhhh…” Sari smothered her face with a pillow in a vain attempt to douse the flush burning her skin. "D-Don't mention it." 

 

Arcee's lilting giggle carried over the comm.

 

“Well, I gotta to go. The council is heading outside to make their announcement in a few kilicks.”

 

“O-Okay!"

 

She was already bringing up a news feed in her HUD. There was no way the Cybertronian media wouldn't be broadcasting such a big event.

 

“Thank you again, Sari. Bye!” 

 

Sari hurriedly cleaned up her dishes and booked it to the privacy of her room. Plopping down on her fluffy berth, she anxiously waited for the Council's address to start. 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Blackarachnia followed the members of the High Council down the long staircase to the promenade. Her optics flicked over to the pink Autobot at her side. The strong pulses of her field were rife with anxiety, reflected by the pinched expression on her faceplates.

 

Keeping one optic on her and the path ahead, Blackarachnia reflected on just how perfectly.

 

Disgracing Sentinel had been just the proverbial cherry on top of all she hoped to accomplish here. Undermining him at every turn had proved to be more fun than she could ever imagine. He deserved it.

 

Sweet revenge.

 

Her frame shuddered as a powerful charge surged through her systems, filling her with satisfaction.

 

But the former Decepticon wasn't even remotely done yet. Even now, the crux of her plan waited just ahead. All she need to do was take center stage.

 

As the murmurs of the crowd below began to reach her audio receptors, Alpha Trion brought their procession to a stop. They were about a fourth of the way up the grand staircase. High enough that those of at the back of the vast crowd could see them, but low enough that they could still be easily heard.

 

“Citizens of Cybertron.” Alpha Trion’s amplified voice boomed across the promenade as he began to speak. “Today is a momentous day for our people. We have welcomed the former Decepticon scientist, Blackarachnia, back home.”

 

Cheers erupted from throngs of demonstrators. Beneath the din, she also managed to hear several cries of dissent.

 

“Autobot Sentinel has been relieved of the role of Magnus. We will nominate a new Magnus as soon as possible.”

 

The rowdy crowd roared in triumph. The mass of their merged fields buzzed with barely contained energy.

 

“Now, Blackarachnia herself will speak to you about the terms of our arrangement.”

 

Carefully schooling her intimidating features into as friendly an expression as she could manage, Blackarachnia stepped past Alpha Trion and respectfully inclined her helm. Ever the vigilant guard, Arcee subtly moved up behind. Her soft blue optics roved over the crowd with focused intensity.

 

You're doing so well, my dear. She thought affectionately. But her spark panged lightly with fear as her processes took a darker turn. Hopefully I'll get the chance to tell you how much it means to me.

 

“I greet you, Cybertron." She cranked the volume of her voice. Echoes of her voice reverberated off the ministry buildings that populated the Metroplex. "My home once more. And it is so good to be back.”

 

Her highly tuned optics caught a subtle shift in the movements of the mass of bots. Someone was pushing their way through the crowd.

 

“Today I renounce the Decepticon cause. But, I will not become an Autobot.” 

 

The murmurs of confusion carrying from them were broken up with disgruntled noises as a servoful of bots began to push and shove past the demonstrators beside them.

 

That's right, come and get me. 

 

“Like many of you, I was skeptical of the council's commitment to addressing the corruption with their own ranks. In the coming cycles, the High Council will oversee the public election of a new High Council post to represent the interests of people of Cybertron. Only citizens who are not government or military affiliated may hold this seat. And each and every one of you will get the chance to vote on who this official will be.” 

 

This time the cheers were almost deafening. The din almost drowned out the sound of jet engines coming from high overhead.

 

“But they agreed to take things another step further. In order to diversify the ideologies of Cybertron, the High Council has elected to establish a brand new faction. One that will not walk behind the Autobots in supplication, but side by side as willing partners. Together, we will build a better future for Cybertronians everywhere.” 

 

A low rumble traveled through the crowd as the realization of what she meant set in. The mass of fields washing over her was filled with anticipation and anxiousness. But most importantly, they were brimming with excitement.

 

“Since the Great War, our people have been scattered across the galaxy. We stand here in the shadows of our once prosperous world. The council and I believe it's time to bring those wayward bots home. So, on the condition they renounce Megatron’s ideals and warmongering, any Decepticon may come forward and join our peaceful faction.

 

Blackarachnia spread her arms wide to the assembled Autobots, basking in their eager attention.

 

"We shall be known as... the Predacons!”

 

Shouts of alarm rang out as Elite Guard soldiers charged onto the steps. With weapons drawn, their furious optics zeroed in on her.

 

Perfect.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Arcee, catch!” Optimus ordered as he tossed his axe to her. 

 

She snatched the weapon out of the air and watched as the Prime pulled the Magnus Hammer from his back. He wasted no time leaping down the staircase to intercept the Elite Guard. Cliffjumper bounced down the steps after him, transforming his servos into a pair of nasty looking stingers. 

 

Flames suddenly roared above their helms, forcing her to duck beneath the searing salvo. Jetfire transformed midair and pointed his flamethrowers at them. But just as their barrels glowed orange with heat, strands of iridescent purple web up in a tight cone. Completely engulfing him in their sticky embrace, Jetfire plummeted out of sight without so much as a scream.

 

“You’ll have to try better than that, hot head!” Blackarachnia taunted as she leaned over the edge of the staircase to watch him fall.

 

A loud whistling sound carried ominously over the battle. The static filled purple clouds of Cybertron's atmosphere began to spin and stretch. The tip of a powerful cyclone of crackling gas surged downward. The spiraling storm clung tightly around the waist of a dark blue Autobot as he flew right at their position. Jetstorm was certainly living up to his name. 

 

Planting the pommel of the axe as hard into the ground as she could, Arcee aimed the head right at his fast approaching form. 

 

Come on…  

 

Wind whistled past her audio receptors as the atmosphere around her was pulled skyward by the tremendous suction. 

 

Almost…

 

Just as she was able to make out the concentrated grimace on Jetstorm's grey faceplates, she locked her stabilizers and thumbed the controls on the haft of the axe.

 

The handle extended at lightning speed, gaining more and more length with every passing nano-klik. Just before it reached maximum extension, the top of the axe head smashed into Jetstorm’s face. There was an audible crunch as his flight came to a jarring stop. The handle of the axe vibrated violently in her servos, but she managed to maintain her grip.

 

The Autobot flier tumbled from the air. He slammed onto the steps a short distance down the staircase. Arcee ran to his side and kneeled down to run a quick scan. His face was heavily damaged, and their was a light splattering of pink energon on the steps from his hard landing, but his spark and central processor were still very much intact.

 

The twins were just foot soldiers. Experiments, like she had become. Like Blackarachnia she would be. wouldn’t be attacking them by choice. She couldn't believe they would have attacked like this of their own volition. Someone must have ordered them to.

 

Satisfied with the knowledge that Jetstorm would live, she shortened the axe handle and settled it into a two servo grip.  

 

Heavy thuds preceded Ironhide charging up the steps as he roared in challenge. Chrome silver spread over his dark orange plating when he activated his famous personal mod. Covered helm to pedes in the hardened metal, he was all but indestructible now.

 

Unfazed, Blackarachnia transformed into her enormous spider mode and sprayed a thick stream of webs from her mandibles. The silky strands engulfed his stabilizers, causing him to toppled forward with a yelp of surprise. The steps beneath his frame cracked from the impact. 

 

Huh?

 

Arcee suddenly felt something strange. 

 

It was subtle. Like low charge simmering in her circuits. The feeling radiated through her frame from the depths of spark. Then, she felt a tug. It was a gentle, if alien, feeling. The pressure inside her chassis focused in particular direction. Almost urging her to turn around.

 

Curiostity peaked, she spun around to look back up the grand staircase.

 

Slag!

 

Sentinel bounded down the steps.

 

While his spiked shield was pulled against his left side for protection, the tip of his energon lance was held in perfect form and aimed straight ahead. Blackarachnia transformed back into robot mode and cackled at the wiggling frame of Ironhide, entirely unaware of the weapon pointed directly at her back.

 

Fear surged from her spark. Sentinel was almost within striking distance of the doctor. She had less than a micro-kilick to act. 

 

She leapt, crying out in the hopes of calling attention to herself.

 

The tip of Sentinel’s lance pierced her breastplate, punching right through her chassis. Heated energon burned her internals as the weapon pushed deeper into her. Arcee screamed in pain. Her plates tore and sheared. Energon boiled within her internals. After what felt like an eternity of agony, the lance stopped digging deeper into her. 

 

Energon flooded up her throat from her damaged internals. It filled her mouth and quickly pushed past her lips, spraying glowing pink droplets over Sentinel's shocked visage.

 

“ARCEE!!!”

Notes:

Please hold your applause and groans. I already accept the consequences for the title.

Chapter 31: A Hole in Her Heart

Summary:

Blackarachnia faces unexpected consequences.

Blackarachnia's techno-organic circuits went deathly cold at the wet sound of a weapon piercing a body behind her. Then Arcee cried out in pain. She whipped around as a primal terror wrapped her spark in its iron grip. The newly minted Predacon sharply sucked in a vent.

 

Arcee stood between her and Sentinel. The tip of his energon lance had burst through her backplate, drenched in fresh pink energon. She coughed up a shower of pink energon that splattered over Sentinel's plates.

 

"No..." Blackarachnia murmured. 

 

Everything seemed to crash down around the Predacon at once. Her powerful processor stuttered. Despite having four optics, her vision tunneled around the injured Autobot. Arcee was hurt. Badly hurt. It was miracle she was even moving. 

 

This is what you wanted, isn't?! Death? Chaos? The righteous struggle for survival against a pitiable foe? Pathetic.

 

This your fault.

 

And you know it.

 

"ARCEE!!" 

 

Sari's anguished cry ringing out from overhead was like a slap to her faceplates. Blackarachnia crouched with narrowed optics, tensing her powerful stabilizers in preparation.

 

Sentinel brought up his shield to block a rain plasma blasts from the techno-organic as she strafed him. While he was distracted, Arcee threw her arms forward, scrabbling at the lance handle in Sentinel's servo.

 

"Let go you freak!" He snarled and tried to shake her off. But Arcee's digits clamped around the edge of the bell guard, stopping herself from sliding off the tapered weapon.

 

The world blurred around the Predacon as she pounced forward and ducked under the disgraced Autobot's shield. His bright blue optics grew wide with fear. By the time his arm shifted in an attempt to bring the spike rim of the shield on top of her, Blackarachnia had driven the points of all four of her sharp spider limbs into Sentinel's frame. She punctured the fuel lines in the joints of his large shoulders with one limb each. The other two were buried in the fuel lines on either side of thick neck that pumped directly to his central processor.

 

“Ugh!” He grunted in pain for just a moment, flinching slightly as she poured her cyber-venom into his systems. 

 

Sentinel's heavily built frame convulsed violently. His servos went slack simultaneously, allowing his weapons fall from their grip. She watched as the cyber-venom wreaked havoc on him. One by one it would force shut down all of his systems until he powered down into a deep stasis. His optic fluttered. He toppled backwards, landing on the steps in an ungraceful heap. 

 

With no one holding onto the other end of the lance, Arcee's stabilizers buckled. She tipped forward, still keeping the weapon firmly lodged in her chassis. 

 

“I’ve got her!” Sari swooped down and grabbed the pods on her back.

 

She rushed forward to support the weapon as Sari used her jets to hold up the injured femme's weight. With a grateful, if pained smile, Arcee finally let go of the lance while they carefully lowered her to the ground.

 

“Steady Sari...” She admonished when the mini-bot's thrusters stuttered, jostling Arcee slightly.

 

"I know! Sorry, alright?"

 

"Right..."

 

They positioned Arcee on her side. Her servos were shaking like she had a glitch in her systems. Both of her beautiful blue optics were dim and unfocused. Still fresh pink energon dripped from her lips, running down her chin before falling onto her breastplate.

 

"Arcee?" She murmered, lowering her face down to the Autobot's as she cupped her energon splattered cheek, "Can you hear me?"

 

She nodded her helm slightly, flickering optics focusing on her own.

 

"I'm gonna inject you with a special dose of my cybervenom. It might hurt just a little, but it will help keep you online long enough to save you. Understand?"

 

Her magenta lips moved as if she were attempting to speak. But instead of actual words, she made a few pitiful choking sounds. But that didn't stop her from understanding Arcee's answer.

 

Heat flooded her cheeks. Blackarachnia had never been so happy and so furious that she knew how to read lips as right now.

 

"I'll uh... take that as a yes."

 

Arcee's optics closed as the venom flooded her systems, pushing her into a regenerative stasis.

 

Frag it all!!

 

Blackarachnia allowed herself a single micro-kilick of time to shudder minutely. She squeezed her optic lids shut. Allowing the cacophonous voices of her own shame and bitterness the barest of moments to tear each other apart in her processor.

 

...

 

Emergency Trauma Repair Protocols Activated...

 

Initiating Deep Frame Scan...

 

Arcee was completely impaled through by the lance.

 

But it had just grazed the side of her spark chamber. In fact, the reinforcements she'd made to her internals had blocked the lance from running her right through. As lucky as she was, the damage was significant. Her right arm was barely attached. The barest of plates bulged as it stalwartly stood up against the lance, keeping her should joint attached to her abdomen. All the complex internals in her abdomen were either crushed or melted by the searing heat of the energon weapon. The first thing she'd done was turn the damn thing's power down so it no longer burned Arcee.

 

“If you require assistance, I will do what I can.” Perceptor announced when he kneeled nearby them. But Blackarachnia ignored him for now.

 

And Arcee had lost a lot of energon. So much of it had spilled from her mouth or dripped from the grievous wound, it had stained her magenta plates a much more sinister shade of pink. And her systems were quickly running out of the life giving liquid.

 

Reaching into her skirt storage, she fished out a packet of fresh transfluids mixed with energon. A set of wound up tubes were spiraled together on one side of the bag.

 

"Get her hooked up, kid." She commanded and pushed one of the lines in her armored servos.

 

"Right!" Barely batting an optic, the other techno-organic hurriedly flipped open a plate on Arcee's neck and began to hook it into her fuel line. 

 

Satisfied that Sari was up to the task, the Predacon went to work on the plating outside of her breastplate. One of her main fuel lines ran by her spark chamber. It was important the systems of her lower frame received a transfusion as well.

 

"Alright nerd. Listen very carefully." Blackarachnia said while she continued applying emergency patches to many of her patients internals, desperately trying to stem the energon loss.

 

"I assume you are speaking to me?" The scientist asked with what was most certainly petulance in his monotone voice.

 

"Bingo, poindexter. If you haven't already called for EMTs, I'm going to kill you."

 

"Then it is good that I informed them over 2.46 micro-kilicks ago."

 

"Aren't you a smart boy? The three dimensional alloy repair station at that fancy science center of yours. I need to use it on her."

 

"No such device exists at the Ministry of-"

 

Blackarachnia's clawed servo lashed out and grabbed Perceptor by the front of his collar and hauled him close enough to whisper in his audio receptor.

 

"If you don't give me 100% access to your special project," She husked into his audio receptor, all the while her extra limbs continued to repair Arcee, "not only will I tell the council exactly how complicit you were in Sentinel's scheme, but I'll personally see to it that you never leave the flat of my lab table online."

 

She jerked him violently for a brief moment and glared directly into his quivering blue optics.

 

"Got it?!" She snarled, only to effortlessly change her expression from fangs bared to smiling as bright as a star, "Then we'll call it square, eh hon?"

 

Perceptor earnestly nodded his helm, lips pressed together in a thing line.

 

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Releasing the flustered Autobot to go make his calls, she refocused on her patient's progress.

 

They were making slow progress, but it would keep her from bleeding out before they got her on an operating table.

 

"I think you made Perceptor piss his plates." Sari chided without humor, organic optics locked on repairing some of the damage on Arcee's backplate.

 

"If that were possible, I would agree with you."

 

"She's..." A pulse of fear flowed from the kid's field as she hesitated to continue, "She's gonna make it... right?"

 

"Of course she'd make it." Blackarachnia declared with real conviction in her tone.

 

She only took her optics off Arcee for a nano-klick. Just long enough to glare at her own servos. With every deft moment, the dry, crusty energon built up on her digits flaked and cracked. Only for more to drip onto her joints, robbing the Autobot of more precious energon.

 

"I owe her an apology... and much, much more."

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Move it you weakling!” Someone grabbed them from under the arm and hauled them off a berth. “We can’t stay here any longer.”

 

The bot held tightly onto their elbow joint, pulling them into a dark corridor. Except for the clanking of their pedes on the dusty floor, it was deathly silent.

 

“Who… are you…?” They asked after a few kilicks of being practically dragged along the twisting pathways. Something must be wrong with their optical sensors, because every time they tried to look at the bot, their vision fuzzed over. 

 

The only distinguishable feature they could make out were their red optics.

 

“You don’t need to know that. Now be quiet .” They hissed, “Do not speak unless you are spoken to.”

 

Okay then…  

 

Time seemed to blur in their processor, but eventually they came to a large tunnel with a dead end. The bot brought them to a stop before the wall and touched the side of their helm. With a tremendous creaking and scraping of metal, the wall split down the middle into separate panels.

 

After a few micro-kilicks of grating sound assaulting their audio receptors, the door panels shuddered to a halt. It was barely halfway open.

 

“Close enough. Come on.” 

 

The darkness of the structure gave way to a city bathed in stark, grey light. Black clouds roiled high up in the atmosphere for as far as her optics could see. White lightning arced and danced among the billowing gases.

 

Great gusts of wind barreled their way between countless ruined buildings. Some of their rooves had collapsed. In places, there lay piles of rubble strewn over the empty streets from the remains of disintegrated structures. And everywhere they looked, there was not a hint of movement or life to be seen.

 

Eventually they wound their way out of the necropolis. And what stretched out before them was nothing but rolling, gray metal surface plating that sloped and dipped into a hilly terrain thick with dust clouds.

 

Ow!! They winced when the bot jerked them hard by the arm, increasing the pace of their strides. Their pedes made muted scraping noises as they stumbled occasionally, barely managing to stay upright. I-I don't understand... what's going on...

 

The turbulent winds that blew across the lifeless plains howled strong and loud, buffeting their plates while they trudged on. Tiny shards of metal were blasted against their plates at high speed as a grey cloud engulfed them.

 

They tightly sealed their mouth and optic lids. It scared them to allow the undientified bot to complete lead them, but entirely unbothered by the harsh conditions. They merely kept up their blistering walking pace, diving head long into the hostile elements. When the storm did finally subside, much of their light blue plates were coated in grey dust.

 

“Where are-”

 

“BE QUIET!” The bot roared and tightened the iron grip on their elbow. The strength of their enormous digits caused their plating to groan in protest, sending pain shooting through their circuits.

 

And that's how it went.

 

The two of them plodded forward without stopping at all. Breems of walking turned into solar-cycles. One, two, three... Eventually, they stopped paying attention to the chronometer on their HUD entirely. Just rolling, dusty gray hills and black skies that flashed with eerie light. Except for the occasional metal storm, nothing here seemed to change.

 

To make matters even worse, the bot gripping their arm never answered their questions. 

 

And Primus, did they have a lot of them.

 

Who am I? Who are they? What is this place? Why do I feel… wrong?

 

Finally, the grey landscape around them shifted. Veins of soft blue alloys crawled in irregular lines over the dark surface metals. By the time the colors of the gas clouds overhead were a deep, comforting blue, they could see mountains rising on the horizon. They framed an enormous crystalline that glinted the cool lighting of the lavender tinted flashes of lightning. 

 

“See that, do you?” The bot released their arm for the first time since they left the dead city. But a data pad was quickly shoved into their servos. “Go to the coordinates indicated on the pad. There’s enough credits to enroll you in the teaching school there.”

 

“But… why?” They asked hesitantly, expecting to be immediately berated for speaking.

 

The taller bot shrugged.

 

“You need a purpose to survive. And teaching is something you’re actually good at.”

 

“Me? But I don’t even know who you are… Why do this for me? ” They were pleading now. Begging to find out anything about what was happening. "How do you know me? Why don't I remember anything?"

 

“Its always questions with you." The bot tutted, turning their backplate on them. "None of that matters. You won’t even remember any of this anyway.”

 

Without another word, the bot took purposeful steps back the way they'd come. 

 

“But- But I don’t even know who I am!” They shouted in anguish before the bot disappeared into the swirling clouds metal, "Please... at least tell me that... please..."

 

The bot's red optics flashed in the blurry outline of their helm. A miniscule vein of hurt wriggled its way out of their powerful field.

 

“You are Arcee, of the-”

 

Someone stepped between the two of them, blocking the other bot from sight as a tapered lance pierced their chest plate.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Teaching Unit RC-687-040

Initializing Automatic Startup Sequence

Core Processor Status: Online

Commencing Systems Check

Logic Processor: Green

Meta Processor: Green

Core Programming: Green

Synchronizing Memory Core: Complete

Running Sensory Systems Test

Equilibrium Sensors Online

Auditory Sensors Online

 

Arcee’s revved as awareness flooded her processor. Without thinking, her servos flew to her breastplate, grasping for the lance that had just skewered her. But her servos were deftly caught in a firm, gentle grip.

 

“Shhh… just relax, you’re alright.” The familiar, silky soft voice of her doctor cooed. Sharp digits delicately caressed her face plates, sending a pleasant charge shooting through her circuits. It did wonders to quash the brief surge of panic she'd felt upon awakening.

 

Optical Sensors Online

 

Her optics flickered on and the dim room began to come into focus. To Arcee’s surprise, she quickly recognized it as her quarters at the MDC building. She was laying flat on her berth. Blackarachnia sat on it beside her, leaning over her prone frame with a tired, but genuine smile on her violet lips. 

 

Vitals: Green

Energon Reserves: 86%

Combat Systems: Online

Initiating Mobility Test 

 

As her plates and joints recalibrated, the stiff feeling of her frame moving again caused her to groan aloud.

 

“What… happened?” 

 

“Heh, you saved me, remember?” Blackarachnia chuckled. She slipped an arm beneath her backplate and helped her sit up against the berth wall.

 

“Well yeah, I remember that part...” She grumbled irratably and fixed the Predacon with a pleaded look, "Is everyone else okay? What happened to-"

 

“Uh uh." Interrupting her with a wag of her pointer digit, Blackarachnia reached out and grasped her shoulders, "As your doctor I need to know how you're feeling first.”

 

“Uggh! Fine. I don't feel any pain in my breastplate, thanks to you I’m sure. Processor is functioning at full capacity. And I could use a stiff drink. Now tell me, please .” 

 

Exhaustion hit her as she spoke. The irritation she felt petered out and she reached up to take Blackarachnia's clawed servos in her own. When she gave them a squeeze, the Predacon chuckled and shook her helm in disbelief.

 

“You never stop, do you? Everyone is okay. There were no fatalities and you, miss self-sacrifice, had the most grievous injury. Sentinel was arrested. Apparently he convinced the Elite Guard that I was controlling the council somehow. Idiot.”

 

She frowned, taking her time trying to process and allow her anxiety to calm. However, with her worries now relatively relieved, her processor soon zeroed in on something else entirely.

 

“Your badge!” She exclaimed and leaned closer to Blackarachnia.

 

Gone was the sharply lined, purple Decepticon symbol that had adorned her collar plating. In its place was a red, insectoid head with large compound eyes. The badge was molded into the shell-like material of her armor with impeccably rendered detail.

 

“Mm? Oh right.” Blackarachnia brushed the tips of her digits over badge, tilting her head down to get a better look at it, “Do you think it looks good?”

 

Despite how vain the Predacon pretended to be, Arcee knew she was incredibly sensitive about her appearance. And while the trepidation in her voice was no surprise, the fact that she was being so open about it was.

 

Aww...

 

“Well, it's definitely creepy, but…”

 

“But?”

 

“I think it suits you.” She said with a warm smile, "The design is really cool too."

 

“Uhh- good!" Averting her gaze, Blackarachnia stared at the floor as her cheekplates flushed a dark purple. "Great."

 

Arcee tilted her helm curiously. 

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“No!” She blurted out, red optics widening before she cleared her vocilizer. “No. Everything is fine... for once.”

 

“Hey…” Arcee said softly, raising one of her purple servos up to press a feather light kiss to her knuckle joints. “Tell me what you’re processing… I’d like to hear them, if you're comfortable.”

 

“I-I- uh...” All four of her red optics were locked on the spot her lips had touched as she failed to form a coherent response. With a shake of her helm to clear her processor, Blackarachnia took in a deep intake vent before meeting her gaze. “I have something important to tell you. Well, more like a few things… I have a promise to keep after all.”

 

Her memory files of the battle were hazy. Full of half recorded sequences and garbled data. But she perfectly recalled everything that led up to it, as well as Blackarachnia and Sari's comforting presence while she lay injured on the steps.

 

Arcee had been terrified. So very afraid to die... The only thing that kept her calm in those moments before she fell into venom induced stasis was the Predacon's reassuring professionalism and the soft touches of her sharp digits.

 

"Alright. I'm ready."

Notes:

So I think I've got about one more chapter left for Transforming Arcee. Thank you all for reading so far, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. When I post the last one I'll also be creating the series title for the rest of the story.

The next thing I'll post is a separate NSFW chapter as the next part. I'll probably end up doing more than one and they won't be required reading for the next part either if you're not into that. I just love writing soft lesbian explicit content, robots or not.

Chapter 32: A Complete Circle

Summary:

Things are finally starting to settle down in Metroplex City... for now.

Notes:

If anybody cares, Drift sounds like Garfiel from Re:Zero, which would be Zeno Robinson if you follow voice actors.

"You knew?!" 

 

Blackarachnia flinched at the Autobot's outburst and subsequent glare. Arcce's strong field rippled with anger as it washed over her frame.

 

"Well, not exactly." She said, raising her servos placatingly, "I didn't know for certain he was going to attack... there was just a high likelihood that he would."

 

Arcee said nothing. She merely folded her arms under breastplate and continued to glare at her.

 

"Okay okay, I get it..." Blackarachnia sagged against the berth wall, idly rubbing the side of her helm with a servo, "I should have told you there was danger. If I had, maybe... maybe you wouldn't have almost died... I'm... sorry."

 

The expression on her light pink face plates softened.

 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

 

"Because..." She hesitated, fighting against her fear of revealing too much to the Autobot. 

 

Her reluctance to trust her completely had almost stricken Arcee from her life entirely. If she wanted to prevent such a thing from happening in the future, the Predacon would need to try harder.

 

"Because?" Arcee prompted, reaching out lay a servo on her spike shoulder.

 

"I was worried you would interfere. I provoked Sentinel into attacking on purpose. His actions have only galvanized the discontented Autobots into distrusting their government even further. They'll be much more likely to join the Predacons now than before."

 

"And what exactly is your plan for the Predacons?" The suspicion in Arcee's tone and the anxiety in her field hurt, but Blackarachnia deserved that.

 

Alright girl, time to put your money where your mouth is.

 

"I wanted to create something new." She admitted, turning her gaze up to the ceiling. "A place on Cybertron that I could be myself. With bots who were on my side. Ones that felt like I did about our world. I'm tired of fighting. Of running and hiding. But no one was going to just give that to me. And Sentinel would have imprisoned or killed me if I went through the official Autobot channels. So I came up with this whole scheme to take what I wanted without having to throw a single punch. Something Megatron was always too angry to do."

 

"I see..." Arcee murmured. Bringing one of her digits up to her mouth to chew on as she processed.

 

"You're not going to rat me out to the Autobots... are you?" She cursed herself for voicing the paranoid process, but she had to know. 

 

"Did you do anything illegal?"

 

"Besides stealing your upgrades from the ministry of science?" She confirmed with a nod, "Well, I infected the Autobot Intelligence network with a virus so I could monitor Sentinel's calls and keep them off my aft. That's probably treason or espionage or some other fancy word for spying."

 

"That's it?" Now it Blackarachnia's turn to nod minutely as she intently watched her expression. Arcee scoffed and waved a servo dismissively in the air, "That's nothin. I've done lots worse than that."

 

Blackarachnia almost did a double take. She fixed her patient with an incredulous stare.

 

"Excuse me??"

 

"Well, I didn’t do it to the Autobots. But I was an intel bot, remember? It was my job to infiltrate worlds and gather information. I never stole anything more than supplies, but considering who you took them for… I’ll let it slide." She said with a playful grin.

 

"Oh, right." She'd never admit it, but in all the hubbub recently, she had actually forgotten the bubbly Autobot had been a high level spy.

 

"So all things considered, I don't have a problem with your goals or your methods. But I have to ask..." She felt the Autobot slip a servo into her own and interlace their digits. "What about us? Team Prime... me, Sari, Optimus... I doubt any of them would want to leave the Autobots, despite everything. Where do we fit into your new world order?"

 

Blackarachnia sighed, ashamed to recall a time when she would have kicked them to the curb once they'd outlived their usefulness.

 

"That's up to you all, really..." She ignored the ache in her spark, "It would help my legitimacy to keep working with you... but I won't force you to do so. I'll certainly manage okay on my own."

 

The pink Autobot averted her optics, silently working her jaw as she processed with a blank expression on her face plates.

 

"And what do you want, Blackarachnia?" 

 

"Hm?" She narrowed her optics in mild confusion, "I just told you what my plans were."

 

"No no no." Arcee admonished, now shaking her helm with an amused grin. "Those were your goals... Your dastardly plan to take over Cybertron from within so you could overthrow the status quo. I want to know what you want. Is working at your clinic and building a community of weirdos loyal to your terrifying intellect the extent of your desires?"

 

Leave it to Arcee to cut right through my obfuscation. It scared her sometimes how adept the Autobot was at reading her. All of her carefully constructed walls and meticulously chosen words did nothing to stop her intuition. Guess I've got no choice but to tell her...

 

"You really wanna know?"

 

Arcee nodded her helm eagerly, giving her servo another squeeze.

 

Come on! Just say it out loud you idiot!!

 

"I want... To keep being friends with Optimus and Ratchet. To see Sari use that big brain of hers to turn the universe upside down..." Arcee giggled. Her lilting laugh had quickly become one of her all time favorite sounds. The sound relaxed her. Especially when Blackarachnia managed to make her laugh, even if it was at her expense. "And most of all... I want you, Arcee."

 

Her soft blue optics widened considerably and her magenta lips parted slightly. For a few micro-kilicks, Arcee just stared at her with shock pulsing from her field at regular intervals.

 

"You... want me? To do what...?" She asked, voice barely a whisper.

 

Gathering her courage, she took both of Arcee's servos in her own and turned to face her.

 

"I want to stay by your side. To hear all about your thoughts and wants and dreams... To recharge beside you. To touch your face and stare into your optics for breems at a time. I want you, Arcee. For as long as you'll have me."

 

She'd finally done it. All the hemming and hawing. Cycles of denying Arcee and her own feelings. 

 

What if she doesn't feel the same way anymore...?

 

"You really mean that..." Arcee said, looking down at their joined servos in disbelief.

 

But after a moment, she met Blackarachnia's gaze with lubricant shimmering in her optics. Her plush magenta lips trembled as their corners slowly turned up into a wide smile. An overwhelming pulse of warmth surged from her spark, enveloping her own tremulous field in its comforting embrace. And really, that feeling alone was worth more than any grand scheme she'd ever concocted.

 

"Oof!"

 

The next thing she knew, Arcee tackled her back onto the berth and wrapped her arms around her slim frame, squealing with unadulterated happiness.

 

“YOU DO! Youdoyoudoyoudoyoudo!”

 

Guess that answers my question... Primus.

 

Arcee buried her face into the soft mesh of her neck. The hot puffs of her ventilator on her techno-organic plates sent sharp charges rushing through systems. The Autobot's frame practically vibrated atop her, causing her to shiver slightly.

 

Deciding to savor the closeness, Blackarachnia wrapped her arms around the pink femme. With a contented sigh, she pressed a kiss to the top of her white helm.

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Arcee stepped into the Cyber-Ninja Dojo from the Matrix Chamber, expecting Dai Atlas to be waiting for her. But the old ninja was nowhere to be seen. Instead, standing in the fighting pit was a familiar, slim white and red Autobot.

 

“Hey Pinky, how's the chassis?” Drift called out, smirking as he twirled one of his short swords. Beside him on the training mat was a conspicuous black box that came up to his knee joint.

 

Memories of the last time they'd met flashed through her processor. The feeling of his fist crunching into her abdomen plating ached like a phantom pain.

 

“Um, fine... Sir.” She managed to say. Arcee was wrestling with her spark to keep the anxiety from overflowing through her field.

 

“Hey now, no need to be nervous." Drift said and rubbed the back of his helm sheepishly. A pulse of shame flowed through his field. "Although... I should probably say sorry first.”

 

“...” Arcee narrowed her optics. Pursing her lips together, she leaned up to look him directly in the optics, "Really?"

 

“Uh yeah I- What’s that look for?!” He snapped and put his servos on his hips indignantly, “I’m tryin to say sorry for hittin you!” 

 

That’s more like it. Arcee huffed, folding her arms under her breastplate.

 

“Fine, apology accepted.”

 

Drift stared at her in open mouthed disbelief. After a moment, he burst out laughing.

 

“Femmes are so strange…”

 

“Hey!” Reaching out with a servo, Arcee flicked his nose with a digit. He yelped louder than she thought possible. “Watch it, Swords .”

 

“Did you just call me Swords??” He asked in a nasally voice as he massaged his sore nose.

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

She held his glare for a few tense micro-kilicks. Drift chuckled, shaking his helm with lopsided grin on his silver lips.

 

“Alright, I like you, Pinky.”

 

It worked! Yessss. Barely containing her excitement, Arcee managed to return his respectful bow without incident. She was learning way too much from Blackarachnia. But I can never tell her that.

 

“Now then, you ready to train?”

 

“Yes, sir!” She instinctively stood to attention as her military training program kicked in automatically.

 

“Wrong!" Drift admonished, "You don’t have the proper equipment to train in our dojo.”

 

There was a certain... primal fear that only came to the front of her processor when recalling what it felt like to arrive to a class unprepared. And right now, Arcee was very afraid.

 

“I’m sorry!" She blurted out, vibrating on her pedes anxiously, "What equipment do I need?! Dai Atlas didn’t didn't mention that I'd need to buy anything... If you tell me I can go-”

 

“Woah woah! Slow down there..." Raising his servos to her placatingly, Drift's field burst with guilt. "You just haven't been given the equipment yet... obviously.”

 

You mother-! Arcee growled and raised an accusatory digit to point in his faceplates. But she managed to keep her mouth shut, keeping herself contented with the way he flinched under glare.

 

“So...” She began after taking in a deep vent to steady her frazzled circuits. "What do I do then?"

 

“I’ll tell you…” Drift set his servo onto the top of the box and gave it confident pat, “Every cyber-ninja has a specialty. Usually, a bot’s personal mod helps determine what they’ll be best at. However…”

 

“...I don’t have any, right?”

 

He nodded his helm, still grinning.

 

Primus help me.

 

“So?”

 

“Well, after that stunt you pulled at the Metroplex, Dai Atlas figured you really needed an upgrade.” He explained and punched a code onto the locking mechanism of the box. When the lock clicked open, he waved her up to it. “So, he made a call to your doctor friend to whip you something up.”

 

“Wait… he asked Blackarachnia to make this?!”

 

“Well yeah. She designed your frame after all, who better to make upgrades for you? Now, you gonna keep interrogating me or are you gonna open it.”

 

Even without the cyber-ninja egging her on, the excitement building in her spark began to make her vibrate. Stepping up to the box, she saw eight parallel scratches on the lid and one of those exaggerated Earth hearts Sari liked so much.

 

She opened up the container to find a layer of molded foam that held three separate devices. A small black cube sat in the center. Its sleek plates were crisscrossed with softly glowing pink circuits. On either side of it was a pair of hilts with no guards. She recognized the color of their pink tinted black plates as the same that adorned her frame.

 

"Cool..." She murmured, running a digit over the smooth surface of the cube. 

 

“Alright, let’s start with these bad boys.” Drift said and pointed to the hilts. "Or girls. Your weapons, your choice."

 

Arcee grinned up at him. Snatching up the pair of weapons, she connected them to her combat systems. To Drifts relief, the flush on his cheekplates went unnoticed by her.

 

Uploading External Device Software…

Combat Systems Synced

Dual Swords Ready

 

“No way…”

 

With a light squeeze of her servos, glowing energon blades transformed out the hilts. The blades were not very long. Scarcely longer than the length of her forearms.

 

“Welcome to the sword club, Pinky.”

 

But she barely registered his words. The humming of her new partners enraptured her as their blades sizzled the air.

 

“Now for the really good part.” Drift reached out and grasped the cube in his digits, delicately extricating it from the foam housing.

 

“How can it get any better than these ?” She asked in disbelief, but still deactivated her new blades and hid them in her skirt storage.

 

"Well, you know I love some good swords. But this baby is something else entirely." He said in awe as he held the device up to her breastplate. “Now, just hold still.”

 

“What are you-” The panel adorned with her Autobot badge slid aside, revealing a square slot filled with circuit connections. "EEP?!"

 

Arcee squeaked in surprise and covered up the slot with her servos.

 

"Give a girl some warning next time?!"

 

"Oh primus!" Drift's face flushed bright red with heat. Her bright blue optics were blown wide. "M-My bad!"

 

"Whatever." She huffed and uncovered her breastplate, "Just get it over with, already."

 

"Hehe... right."

 

Drift gingerly pushed the cube into her chassis without touching her. When it clicked in place, her badge slid back into place and sealed tightly.

 

Scanning Modification…

Scan Complete

Syncing With Active Camouflage Unit

 

“Wait… this is a…”

 

Drift’s field exploded with enthusiasm.

 

“I know right?? ” He grinned wider than she thought possible as he bounced on the tips of his pedes, “I can’t wait to see you test it out! Sooooo cool! ”

 

Okay, that was adorable.

 

“But… why give me something like this?”

 

“Well you’re kind of a tiny bot, you know?”

 

Arcee scowled at him again, but he ignored her.

 

“More often than not, taking a problem helm on will end with you coming up short."

 

Jerk.

 

"That’s why you need an edge to help get you nice and close. After all, you’re going to be the Cyber-Ninja Corps newest infiltration specialist. How’s that sound?”

 

How does that sound???

 

Arcee's spark was bursting with nervous energy. But a grounding vein of fear rippled beneath the powerful pulses. This was not just some extravagant gift being bestowed upon her. These were tools to keep herself and those she cared about alive.

 

Even more than that, this felt like more than a mere induction to a prestigious military program. There was purpose here. The guarding of the protoforms. Honing and passing on the arts of combat. And the comradery of the those who upheld this timeless duty.

 

It was nothing like Autobot Intelligence. An individual intel bot was merely an extension of central intelligence itself. They were never thanked or bestowed honors for their work. And when they died, it was better for everyone to pretend like they'd never existed in the first place.

 

“...Thank you.” And Arcee meant it with all of her spark.

 

A look of surprise passed over Drift's features, reflected in his field by a sharp pulse of positive emotions. But it lasted less than a micro-kilick before he huffed and crossed his arms over his chestplate.

 

“Yeah… um. You’re welcome, I guess. Anyway," His demeanor shifted instantly from dour to a grinning maniac, "Get ready to work those short little stabilizers of yours, cause we’re gonna fight till we drop.”

 

Drift drew both short swords and dropped into a fighting stance.

 

“Now, show me what you’ve got!”

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sari looked up from her data pad at the sound of the lift doors opening. Considering how quiet the common area had been today, she was eager to talk to someone. The Autobots were busier than ever after Sentinel's failed coup, but Optimus had gone out of his way to give her a little more down time than normal.

 

"Sari please, you're worked yourself ragged the last few weeks. And that was before our battle with the Elite Guard. I know you hate being reminded of it, but you're just not as sturdy as the rest of us."

 

While she knew he was trying to be considerate of her human needs, it still rankled her pride. Though, she'd found herself appreciating the extra time to be lazy and relax, especially after the previous night. A particularly graphic nightmare of Arcee bleeding out on the steps of the High Council building had woken her up in a cold sweat.

 

Speak of the devil... She thought as Arcee trudged past the doorway. Hopping out of the couch, she rushed over to her mentor.

 

"Hey Arcee!! How did the- What happened to you?!" Sari gasped, startling the femme. Her pink frame was covered in a myriad of cuts and dented plates. "You look like you got in a fight!"

 

“Eh hehe... Well technically I did.”

 

Sari folded her arms over her breastplate and scowled. 

 

"Okay okay," Arcee raised her servos placatingly, “it was just cyber-ninja training. We got a little carried away, I suppose.”

 

“Tch, I can see that..." With a roll of her eyes, Sari went and grabbed Ratchet's spare med kit from beside the door. "Come on, I'll patch you up."

 

"Oh, thank you Sari! Blackarachnia would blow a gasket if she saw me like this."

 

Like I enjoy seeing you all beat up any less than she does... But the techno-organic kept the thought to herself. It wasn't Arcee's fault that she ended up on a medical berth so frequently. Well... most of the time anyway.

 

She led the way to Arcee's room and had her lay down on the berth. Hopping up beside her, Sari removed the plate buffer so she could begin to work.

 

"By the way," She said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the whirring of the buffer in her hands as she passed it over the femme's pink plates, "Did you get the stuff from Drift??”

 

“Umm, yeah I did. But... how do you know about them?" 

 

“Because I helped Blackarachnia build them, of course! Duh. She’s good, but whipping up that level of tech needed two genius processors.”

 

Arcee let out a soft giggle and stared at her. The soft blue of her optics and the small smile on her magenta lips evaporated the tension she'd felt after seeing her injured. Sari had never met anyone quite like Arcee in her life. When she wasn't getting into trouble, the Autobot exuded compassion from every fiber of her being. Her very presence created a grounding atmosphere wherever she went. It often felt impossible to stay mad her.

 

After about half an hour running the buffer over Arcee's frame and filling out the deeper gashes in her armor, Sari released a sigh of relief, plopping down on the berth beside her friend.

 

"Thank you, Sari... for everything."

 

"Uh-" Heat flooded her cheeks as a pulse of pure, warm emotion cascaded from Arcee's field. "You're welcome... But, why thank me? I was happy to fix you up."

 

"I know, I just-" Arcee bit her lip, fidgeting with her servos in her lap, "You all just make me so happy..."

 

“Awww!” Sari cooed. As always, Arcee's positivity was infectious. She leapt into the Autobot's waiting arms, relishing the feeling of the close embrace. "And you make us happy too... especially me."

 

“By the way… where is Blackarachnia?” Arcee asked, pulling away enough to meet her gaze but not break the hug.

 

“She headed back to her clinic this morning. Said something about meeting with a patient.”

 

“Oh, alright then…” Arcee said with a small frown, but it vanished after a few micro-kilicks as bright expression softened her features, "Wanna have movie night?"

 

"Do I EVER!!" She leapt from berth, bursting with renewed vigor, "I've been meaning to show you some horror movies anyway."

 

"Uhh... are they scary?"

 

"Eehehehe..." Sari cackled mischievously, "Not as scary as Blackarachnia, but I know just The Thing to get you started."

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The clacking of Blackarachnia's sharp digits on the keys of her console was all that broke up the comfortable silence of her clinic.

 

With all of her attention focused on carrying out her grand scheme, there was a backlog of medical requests waiting for her when she returned. But much to her surprise, she began to relish the simplicity of solving her patients' health problems. Every time she completed an order, one of her drones waited to accept the parcel of medication before scurrying off to deliver it. The satisfaction of knowing that they depended on and trusted her with their lives was optic opening.

 

She stopped typing and inclined her helm down, allowing her to gaze at the badge adorning her collar. It was still very new, and the insectoid design she chose made it feel no less alien. Yet it felt like hers in a way the Autobot and Decepticon symbols never did.

 

Was this the fresh start she'd hoped for? And would it last long enough for her to find out?

 

A chime rang out from her security system, alerting her to the presence of someone at the door. Checking the security feed just to be sure, she grinned and unlocked both the front door and the waiting room corridor panels.

 

Dozens of blue and red metal spheres of varying sizes flowed through the entryway. In moments they came together into the familiar bulk of Dipole. 

 

“Have to say, you did a bang up job, Dips.” She complimented idly, spinning around in her chair to meet the bartender's stern gaze.

 

"It was nothing.” She rumbled, “I merely gave the Autobots a push to make the correct decisions. And what of the next phase?” 

 

“I don’t think we’ll have to try very hard to get you elected to the new council seat. Then we can start expanding our influence to the whole city."

 

“And if we meet resistance?” One side of Dipole's visor arched in question, “I have already heard whispers of bots afraid you may try to raise an army of Predacons.”

 

“Let them whisper.” She scoffed, “Unlike Megatron, we don't need an army to get what we want. All it takes is the right compromises and proper leverage. As long as we make ourselves indispensable to the Autobots, I don't foresee any issues. What about you? Are you really willing to give up on him?"

 

The Decepticon chuckled, making the spheres of her frame clack together.

 

“My faith in Megatron died long before you came to my door. After millions of stellar-cycles undercover in this district, I am, as they say, ready for a shifting of gears. And what of yourself? Did you get what you wanted? Or who you wanted?”

 

Heat darkened Blackarachnia's purple cheeks. She spun her chair around, facing her console once more to hide the flush as she wrestled with her paranoia. Dipole was the closest bot to a friend she’d had until Arcee showed up on her doorstep. Maybe she could trust her more too.

 

“Well... technically I got everything I wanted. Power, influence, security... Sentinel rotting in a cell. But her? Arcee gave me something I never thought I'd have again...”

 

"Oh?"

 

"Heh... she gave me hope."

Notes:

And so we're finally done with Transforming Arcee! I love how this turned out and I'm so excited to move on to Part 2. Each part is going to have slightly different story structures and flow. So expect a different formula. Please please let me know what y'all thought.

I'll be posting a NSFW chapter that's going to be Arcee and Blackarachnia's first date. It'll be part of the series so you won't have to look very far, but it won't be necessary for the story. Just for fun.

I've been going back and editing the chapters here and there. I've made a few detail tweaks here and there to have things fall in line slightly better. Plus, I don't have an editor, and even if I read the chapter 3-4 times before I post it, I still miss stuff. So if you reread expect to see them.

Notes:

Thanks for reading!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Heralds of Chaos