Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XII, Chapter One

SPIDER'S GAME

Long, spindly legs carried the large black widow as it navigated its way through the wilderness. Night always provided it with the best cover; when it was light out, humans liked to wander into these parts for one reason or another and the sight of a larger-than-life spider would surely cause a commotion that Blackarachnia had no desire to deal with. Even back on Eukaris, she had always preferred the isolation that the darkness provided her whenever she roamed through the jungles. The silence, the nothingness… it was greatly preferable to the headache she always felt when dealing with other sentients.

Unfortunately, she had little choice in the latter regard. Ever since the incident back in Verenya, she had been stuck with the other Predacons as they traveled aimlessly across the dirtball of a planet they had come to. With Gnashteeth gone, Dinobot had taken on the role of leader though she very much doubt that even he knew where they were going. They couldn’t stay in Verenya of course, lest they suffer whatever fate that Gnashteeth had been given by the Talisman, and especially since a team of Decepticons had just established their own base of operations there. Yet Dinobot insisted on staying on Earth so they could recuperate and eventually take back the Talisman. When that would be and how they would accomplish such a feat, Blackarachnia had no idea. She didn’t think anyone did.

Their most recent stop had been upon the insistence of her fellow spider Tarantulas. As far as Blackarachnia could tell there was nothing of strategic value in this particular location, yet Tarantulas had insisted that there was something here he needed to do. As soon as the Darksyde had touched down, Tarantulas had stole away into the wilderness, taking a large cocoon made of webbing with him. While the other Predacons were content with letting the scientist do his own thing — Dinobot saw it as a useful opportunity to devise a plan — Blackarachnia couldn’t help but be intrigued by what Tarantulas was up to. Evidently, he didn’t want the others to know as he did not elaborate when asked to by Dinobot and had been overtly hasty in his departure. Naturally, this made it Blackarachnia’s number one objective to find out exactly what his little scheme was.

Locating Tarantulas was no difficult feat. Strands of webbing had fallen off from the cocoon he had taken with him and provided Blackarachnia with a trail for her to follow. After using them to find her way through the forest, she came into a clearing where she found Tarantulas standing in the middle of a field in his robot mode. Splayed out before him on a bed of webbing was what — no, who the cocoon had contained: the Autobot known as Centurion. Tarantulas stood over the yellow bot’s offline form, prodding him with tools and examining him closely with a keen interest Blackarachnia had never seen him have before. He reminded her of Airachnid, something which was hardly a compliment in her mind.

Converting to her robot mode, Blackarachnia made a show of sauntering out into the clearing to attract Tarantulas’ attention. The scientist noticed her, but other than a quick glare he paid her no further heed as he returned to his examination.

Casting a disinterested look at the comatose Centurion, Blackarachnia said, “Dare I ask what it is you’re doing here?”

“You would not understand,” Tarantulas hissed, poking at the Autobot’s armor with a scalpel. “Your mind is too simplistic to grasp what is at stake.”

“Try me.”

Tarantulas stopped for only a moment to glance at her before returning to work. “You were an Autobot, weren’t you?”

Blackarachnia stiffened, her face twisting with disgust at the mere sound of the word. “Why do you say that?”

“Your reaction just now, for one thing. Also, back when we were fighting against the Autobots, you seemed to have been… holding back.”

Blackarachnia sneered. “I never hold back.”

“Perhaps not. Or perhaps you simply have nothing to hold back. You don’t seem to share the same level of bloodlust as Terrorsaur or some of the others.”

“Are you through with your psychoanalysis, creep?”

Tarantulas cackled, his attention still on Centurion. “Tell me about yourself, Blackarachnia. How did you come to be a Predacon?”

“Why should I?” she hissed.

“If you tell me your story, I will tell you what I’m doing here — not that you would understand any of it.”

Blackarachnia scowled but grudgingly realized that taking up Tarantulas on his deal was her best bet at satiating her curiosity. With a resigned sigh, she began. “I used to be called Elita-Six.”

“Ah.” At this, Tarantulas finally lifted his head up at her. “A member of the House of Elita, I take it?”

“Not anymore,” Blackarachnia said bitterly. “They abandoned me on Archa Seven when we were investigating the remains of the Twilight.”

“The Twilight, you say?” Tarantulas tapped his chin. “I believe that was shot down over Archa Seven not long before the war’s end. Cycle 9598, I believe.”

Blackarachnia shrugged dismissively. “Whenever. It was twenty years ago when my squad and I went there to explore the remains of the ship. We were attacked by the native arachnids and I was separated from the rest of my team.” Her optics flashed as she snapped her pincer-hands together. “They did nothing to save me. They just turned and ran.”

“Typical cowardly behavior,” Tarantulas lamented, though Blackarachnia doubted the sympathy in his voice was sincere. “How did you manage to escape?”

“I didn’t,” Blackarachnia said quietly. “I would have died if someone hadn’t rescued me. That someone then took me under her wing and promised me a life better than the one I had. Of course, she gave me anything but….”

Tarantulas stared at her expectantly as she trailed off. However, rather than give him the satisfaction of saying anymore than she needed to, Blackarachnia instead crossed her arms and inclined her head to the other spider. “Right then. Your turn.”

Suddenly giddy with excitement, Tarantulas released a manic cackle from his vocal processor. “I believe our little Autobot friend here is a time traveler.”

Blackarachnia stared at him blankly. Tarantulas hadn’t been kidding when he had said it would be difficult for her to grasp. “What?”

“I have been analyzing his entire composition — armor plating, innermost energon, even his transformation cog — and have made the discovery that all of it is well over twenty thousand years old! Well beyond the age of even the oldest known Cybertronian!”

“So? Maybe he just is that old.”

“Ah, you would think so, wouldn’t you? However, I detected traces of chronal energy surrounding his spark signature — traces which are nearly identical to those I detected when the Talisman activated and enveloped our leader!”

Blackarachnia let out an exasperated sigh, beginning to regret having started this conversation. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that our friend here must have been sent back in time by the Talisman,” Tarantulas replied, swinging back to look at Centurion. “I’m still not sure as to how and why, but it is the most logical conclusion I can deduce.”

Tarantulas must have had a different definition for “logical” than Blackarachnia had. Still, despite herself, she still found herself asking questions even though she knew the answers would not clear anything up. “So why is this so interesting to you?”

“Because it means a number of things!” Tarantulas replied. “For one, it means that Gnashteeth could still be out there, trapped in a different time. He could still be among us as we speak, having bide his time for stars know how long. It also means….”

At this, Tarantulas suddenly went quiet. Hunching himself over, he tapped his fingers together nervously as his optics darted from one side to another, even though there was no one else around but Blackarachnia and the dormant Centurion.

Blackarachnia huffed with impatience. “Well? What else does it mean?”

“They are sure to be listening in on us as we speak,” the other spider muttered, more to himself than to Blackarachnia. Retracting his tools, he turned back to Centurion and began wrapping up the Autobots into a cocoon once more. When he was done, he swiveled to face Blackarachnia and narrowed his visor at her.

“Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he whispered in a deadly tone.

Blackarachnia had no choice but to take that as an incentive to do the complete opposite. Nonetheless, she hid her thoughts with a dismissive sneer. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Satisfied with that response, Tarantulas converted to his spider mode and began to drag the wrapped-up Centurion back into the forest. Blackarachnia waited for him to leave before transforming as well and proceeding in his direction. As much as she detested her fellow Predacon — perhaps moreso than any of the others — she could not help but find him the most interesting thing in the universe at the moment. If anything, she was going to consider the time dedicated towards solving Tarantulas and his schemes well spent rather than wasted.