CHAPTER EIGHT
--Outpost One--
Tarantulas was feeling good about himself. Everything was proceeding as planned.
Gigatron and his trackers had left to find Ragnarok. Artfire's lobotomy had produced juicy results, and Code Sigma had been sent to all of his operatives. Pretty soon, things were going to start happening.
Humming to himself as he entered the control center, Tarantulas skittered over to the security console... and stopped dead in his tracks.
A small light was blinking on one of the consoles.
Someone had gotten out of their cell.
He immediately brought up the live feed from the security cameras and sure enough, there he was: Ricochet, unconscious, being carried in the arms of a blue and black mech, rushing to one of the hangars.
Tarantulas chuckled, in spite of himself. He found it so amusing that they thought they had a chance of escaping. A part of him almost wanted to let them succeed, if only because it would give him a good laugh.
But there had to be a time and place for everything, simple entertainment included. Cutting off their escape would, in the long term, provide him with plenty of laughs.
Humming to himself again, Tarantulas pressed a control panel.
* * *
The door fell with a resounding clang. Had the blue mech been a mere step further, it probably would have bisected him. Swearing loudly, he turned around and went back the way he came, praying he would make it to another hangar bay.
No such luck. Another door cut him off from that destination as well. Without turning around, he could hear all of the other hangar bay doors slamming shut. He was trapped.
"I knew this was a bad idea," he growled.
You couldn't possibly have known this would happen, a voice said in his head.
"You didn't really think Mesothulas wouldn't have cameras here, did you?"
He's only one mech. The odds of him viewing the one camera we'd be seen on out of the hundreds he has would've been--
"The freak's got more than one pair of optics. He's like a literal spider. He can see everything!"
Well, what other options did we have? Rot and die in that god-forsaken cell?
"Maybe if we didn't have an extra load, we might've actually been able to escape."
We need Ricochet. He's the only one who can help us.
"You keep saying that, but you never say--"
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
The mech's oil ran cold. He could hear the sound of skittering legs coming from behind him. Bracing himself, he turned on his heels to see the monstrous form approaching him.
"I do apologize," the creature once called Mesothulas said. "You seemed to be very deep in conversation. Should I come back later?"
The mech said nothing, his red optics blazing at the monster.
Tarantulas looked from him to the offline Ricochet in his arms. His mandibles clicked together. "How touching. I didn't think you still cared for Autobots in your present form."
"I don't," the mech growled. "My counterpart insisted that we brought him along."
"Hmm. Then why is it you and not him that is standing before me?"
"Because all of the ships on this station require Decepticon identification."
Tarantulas snapped his fingers. "Ah yes! Of course. Good thinking. I had almost forgotten. No one has left this station in sixty years." His many legs then shifted as he leaned forward. "I don't know about you, but I am not all too keen to make an exception today."
The mech's optics darted around, hoping to find an exit route. Everything to the left and right of him, as well as ahead and behind him, had been closed off, trapping him in this one spot. The only place he hadn't checked yet... was up.
On the ceiling above him was a grate covering up a ventilation shaft. If he could jump up and grab onto the bars, he could then swing himself and kick Tarantulas in the face, buying him just enough time to tear the cover off and get into the shaft. There was only just one problem....
We can't leave without him.
The mech scowled to himself -- his other self. "We can't leave with him either. We have no other choice."
He is our only hope.
"There is no hope. There never was." Against all judgment, the mech dropped Ricochet to the floor. "You said so yourself...."
Please--
"Sacrifices must be made."
He then jumped up to grab onto the grate... only to scream as soon as his hand made contact. Electricity coursed through his body, causing his systems to seize up and fail. He then fell down into a heap on the floor, his body joining Ricochet's.
As he clung onto consciousness, he heard Tarantulas' voice as a pair of arms lifted him up. "I'm sad to say that wasn't nearly as hilarious as I had hoped it would be. Perhaps I should let you open the door next time."
As he felt himself being carried away by Tarantulas, the mech looked over to see Ricochet still laying there, motionless....
"Overall, not one of your best escapes, Punch. Or should I call you Counterpunch? I could never get the names strai--"
Suddenly, a deafening blast of sound hit Tarantulas from behind, causing him to cry out in surprise as he lost his balance and his hold on Counterpunch. As the double agent fell to the floor again, he looked up to see Ricochet on his feet. Jutting out from each of his door wings were speakers from which the sound was emitting.
"You of all people should know, Mesothulas," Ricochet shouted over the sound waves. "Always do a thorough search when you're handling a Secret Service agent."
Tarantulas' only response was to scream, his hands clamped over his audio receptors. As Counterpunch slowly got to his feet, Ricochet looked at him, visibly confused by his fellow escapee's Decepticon badge. Rather than question it however, he instead said, "Any chance you can get that door open?"
"It would take some time," Counterpunch replied via internal radio to be heard over the sound. "I'll have to bypass the control panel manually."
"Make it quick. I can only keep this up for so long."
Indeed, Tarantulas was already gathering himself and turning around. Counterpunch sprung over to the door's control panel and tore it open, digging into the mess of wires underneath. Meanwhile, Ricochet increased the volume on his speakers to keep Tarantulas at bay, but it was already clear that the arachnid had gotten over the sonic assault and was starting to make his way over to the two mechs.
"Sometime today would be nice!" Ricochet called over to Counterpunch.
"Got it!" the other bot exclaimed just as the door raised up. After turning off his speakers and stowing them away, Ricochet rotated on his heel to rush into the hangar with Counterpunch.
It took a moment -- maybe more -- for Ricochet to realize something was off. When he did, he skidded to a halt, with Counterpunch shortly following suit.
There was no hangar. It was just a room with a window looking out into space. There were no ships to be seen.
Their freedom had been an illusion.
Behind them, Tarantulas was laughing. Hard. Hand on his midsection, keeling over as his cackling echoed throughout the station.
"Oh, that was so worth it!" he said in between laughs. "I knew it would be funny but not this... this...." His feet were off the floor now, suspended only by his extra appendages as he bent his head back and belted a shrill cackle. "Too good! Too good! Oh, these are the moments worth living for!"
He went on guffawing for a few more minutes before calming down to a titter. Once he had his composure back, he stepped over to the two bots, who were both staring at him with vacant expressions.
"Of course, I could just wipe your memories and have you do it all over again -- I've been doing that with Punch for years now." Two appendages extended from Tarantulas and seized the mechs in a death grip. "But it just wouldn't have the same effect, I don't think. It pains me to say it...."
The two mechs both felt the appendages inject them with some venom, causing them to slip into stasis.
"But I think play time is over."
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