Work Text:
Airachnid always saw things before they happened.
Not in a divination sense, but in a predatory and analytical sense. She saw what others could not, how faceplates always twitch and tick in particular and predictable ways to tell her everything she needed without even lifting a claw.
Watching and observing for eons as a first lieutenant and surveillance officer hones such skills to near perfection. So much so that she could predict what a bot would likely do from a single movement, a single glance.
However, she never could have foreseen this.
The pathetic cell she was kept in could barely be considered one, as it was clearly meant for prisoners with much smaller frames. That didn't stop the new Prime from shoving her inside one and throwing the key away.
It was laughable, really. Once the second in command to the mech she was devoted wholly to, now reduced to nothing. It all ended so fast. Cycles passed like this, with Airachnid simply staring at the empty walls surrounding her. She was cut off from the rest of the surveillance networks, so she couldn't look at anything even mildly entertaining.
Now and then, the unrightful Prime and his weak underlings would visit her cell, speaking of peace and unity and other naive topics that they knew nothing about. They even briefly talked of freeing her to use her skills to their advantage. Not that she would agree to it, even if they did.
She never once spoke back to them. What was there to say? She wouldn’t join their lost cause. A civil war was just beyond the horizon of Cybertron’s future, but they couldn't see it. Nobody could. But Airachnid saw everything, even beyond the walls of her cell.
Airachnid always saw things before they happened.
She knew how the elite members of Cybertron’s past society felt hesitant to live alongside the previous lower classes, and she saw how Sentinel’s death was dividing more and more bots by the minute. It was only a matter of time before the Quintessons would become the least of Cybertron’s worries.
Pathetic. All because a couple of defective mining bots didn't learn their places in their society. It was times like these that made Airachnid reflect on her time with Sentinel.
He was the one who acknowledged her strength, even when the Primes did not. She was left to waste away as the head of surveillance operations, forever recording and processing battle footage and data but never participating in it.
She remembers the day Sentinel approached her for the first time, completely lacking fear or repulsion but instead showing genuine admiration and curiosity for her skills. He promised that the war would no longer be unwinnable, that she would be a warrior who could wet her blades with energon as often as she wished.
Sentinel kept his word. If nothing else, he kept his promise to her. For it, she swore her loyalty for all time. Over reason, over question, over her own life. For it, he was slaughtered as she watched.
Airachnid thought that she could see things before they happened.
She had to watch from the broadcasting tower as he was torn in half by the silver mech, the one who dropped the newly appointed Prime into the depths of Cybertron. The cog of Megatronus Prime was then ripped from Sentinel’s color-drained chest cavity, and she watched as his killer placed it inside his own chest.
She was battered and scratched, forcefully held against the broadcasting input panel as her memories betrayed her. Betrayed him.
None of it felt real then. It still doesn't feel real now. In a way, she was denying it still. She was meant to protect Sentinel, and now he was dead. Everything she ever did, she did for him. But now he was gone, and she was still here, rusting and rotting away in a cell that didn't even fit her.
An unfamiliar aching pain in her chest made itself known ever since that day.
She was not familiar with the concept of emotions, only with their capability of revealing weaknesses in her enemies. Anger leads to irrationality. Loss leads to impulsivity. Sorrow leads to openings. Each of them a vulnerability in some way, each of them unneeded and unwanted.
So she kept that unfamiliar feeling locked away, unseen and unknown.
It stayed like that for cycles, and Airachnid counted every single moment of it. The distant window at the end of the hall where her cell was placed was painfully small, but it was just enough for her to tell when day turned to night. She never recharged. It unsettled the wardens when they left their shift only to return and find her in the exact same position she was in.
She was used to staying alert for days on end, working until Sentinel would not so subtly suggest a break. Even after they became more acquainted, he still couldn't comprehend that Airachnid didn't have downtime, let alone hobbies or personal preferences.
That pain in her chest only got worse the longer she thought of Sentinel. It seemed to dig and claw at her very spark.
Airachnid knows many things, but emotional connection isn't one of them. She and Sentinel shared that trait, she recalled him telling her. He played the part of a dutiful and devoted Prime, one that happily interacted with his subjects and praised the lower classes, but he didn't care for them at all. Nearly every last relationship he fostered was superficial.
However, there was…an understanding between them. He never bothered to keep up his act around her. She saw through the mask regardless. She saw what he was really like. However, he saw something in Airachnid too. Something that even she didn't realize was there.
There was one memory in particular that often crawled across her processor when she thought of Sentinel.
——
“Can you imagine waging a war could be this dull?”
Sentinel was visiting her working area again, an isolated and screen-filled room that was far away from potential prying eyes. It was dark and hidden, unseen and unheard, just like Airachnid herself. The large blue and gold mech was leaning against the doorway, simply watching her work. Sentinel’s gilded presence stuck out from the dim surroundings, but it was not…unwelcome.
She didn't look up from her work with her main optics, but a couple of the ones on the side of her helm flicked to him, a subtle indicator that she was listening. The mech tilted his helm at her action, having seemingly learned a couple of her unspoken signs.
“If it is varied action you desire, I suggest requesting more field assignments.”
His face fell just a little at her response, but it was enough for her to make her prediction. He would be disappointed by her lack of ability to humor him and leave her workspace, never to return. He wasn't the first mech to try and converse with her, and he likely won't be the last. Perhaps he would finally become unsettled by her.
Airachnid always saw a thing before it happened, after all.
But to her surprise, he didn't move from his spot near the doorway. He moved further into the room, like he was…intrigued. Fascinated, even.
He wasn't like the other bots. He wasn't deterred by her pragmatic demeanor or unnerved by her appearance and skills. Even if he was, he truly hid it from her gaze well for her to believe it, and that warranted her respect.
“Do you think we can win this war?”
His usual smile was gone, replaced by a slight frown and a surprising amount of awareness in his optics. It was like he was gauging her reaction, trying to pry open her helm to find the thoughts she buried so deep even she forgot they were there. Sentinel sparked something in her mind that she thought she had suppressed.
She couldn't tell that to him, obviously. He may be laying out a trap. She couldn't trust him so easily. However, she didn't want to ignore his question. For some reason, she decided to entertain him.
“My thoughts on this war are irrelevant. I am not the one behind the plans for battle and strategy.”
“But if you were, do you think things would be different?”
Silence. At least as silent as it could be with her slowed clicking and constant readjusting of her helm optics. Even though she was taller than Sentinel, she felt the need to shrink under his gaze, like he could see what she could not.
He could see her most hidden thoughts, and for the first time, she felt…vulnerable. It was thrilling. Horrifying. Was this how other bots felt when she entered a room? She felt her spark hum just a little faster than it normally did.
“We’ve been taken for granted, don’t you think? If the Primes weren't so self-insistent and hypocritical, we might be winning against the Quintessons.”
His usually outspoken and confident demeanor was stripped away, revealing something he had kept tempered and cleverly hidden in front of others, especially the Primes. But not her. Not anymore.
Pure ambition sparkled in those big blue optics of his. He was peeling himself apart for her, showing her what he would never show others. She knew it was there since she first laid her optics on him, but now he was completely barren of masks and walls and acts.
“Every last one of those Primes wastes your potential by keeping you hidden away. Don't you want to prove to them that you're more than a surveillance expert?”
Airachnid realized that Sentinel was now much closer than she anticipated him to be. How he managed to sneak behind her, she had no idea. Perhaps this was a plot, a ploy to get her to lower her guard-
She swiveled her helm fully backward to meet Sentinel’s painfully blue optics, her indigo ones burning for a reason she couldn't fathom. Her helm stayed completely still as the rest of her body turned to face him, her extra limbs unfurling to give her some extra height.
She was angry, angry at him for interrupting her life with his sincerity both true and false, angry at the losing war she was forged to serve in, angry at herself for letting anyone ever get this close to her true thoughts. The carefully placed walls of her stoicism had started to crack once Sentinel started visiting her workspace.
An unstoppable force had reached an unmovable object, it seems.
If he were any other mech, she would have gutted him for his insolence long ago and hid the evidence. Even tampered with footage systems to make it seem like he left and betrayed the Primes and their forces. But he was not any other mech, and he was still standing.
He may be her superior, the aide to the Primes themselves, but she never cared for ranks or titles. They all bled energon, and she never bothered to care whose she spilled. But those instincts had been tempered, hidden and locked away. But then he came along, intruded into the monotonous routine she found herself in.
Sentinel seemed surprised at her angered reaction, but not afraid. He didn't take any steps back, instead opting to stand his ground and look at her with an expression she still couldn't decipher even after cycles of knowing him. The closest description she could ever find was understanding, but even that felt wrong and misplaced.
It stayed silent like that for what felt like eons, and every bit of it was tense and insufferable. Airachnid was used to sensing tension whenever she was around other bots, and she had grown used to it, but with Sentinel, it just felt…wrong. Bad.
“I…”
For once, Airachnid was at a loss for words. Maybe she didn't understand all of Sentinel’s facets after all. The thought of him having more hidden beneath his charm and confidence made her want to peel him open herself, to dissect him piece by piece to try to understand why and how he makes her act so…unlike herself. How was he able to hide so much from everyone else including her?
Sentinel slowly reached for her servo with his own, an act that would have warranted dismemberment if he were any other mech. But he wasn't any other mech. He stood unharmed. She didn't even realize he slowly guided her extra limbs down so that her pedes were touching the floor once more, thoroughly unraveling the web of frustration and barriers she put up.
“You’re held back by what others decided for you. So am I. One day, we’re going to be who we were meant to be.”
Her optics widened, surprised at the sincerity in his voice. If he were feigning his emotions, then he was very good at it. She was going to say something in response to his admittedly comforting fantasy, but he held her servo a little tighter and spoke before she could.
“This is a promise. An oath. I'll give us the destiny we deserve. I'm going to make sure of it.”
She didn't have any sort of response to his conviction. His smile wasn't like the one she knew he practiced in reflections or the one he used around the Primes, it was…different. Smaller. Personal.
Airachnid always saw things before they happened. She had expected the war to be lost, and to die not in battle with wetted blades and firing weapons but in this cursed workspace that became her life. But now, she cautiously imagined a future of glittering cities and future cybertronians who knew nothing of war. She imagined a future where she could do as she pleased, no longer confined and restricted.
She could tell Sentinel saw the same future, and he was willing to turn it into reality through any means necessary. The thought of getting to spill energon once more thrilled her.
If Sentinel was lying, Airachnid didn't notice. More accurately, if he was lying, she didn't care.
——
Airachnid now knew that Sentinel was not lying. He effortlessly deceived working-class miners and even the Primes, but she discovered that he never lied to her. Not even once. He told her everything from his desires for Primacy to his plans to keeping someone quiet, and she was always there to wait, watch, and assist.
He was always there to provide her cover, always present to perpetuate the simple little lie that held the foundation of their society together. But when a few unsuspecting bots slipped through the cracks? That's what he had her for.
She was Sentinel’s shadow, the one who happily killed in the dark so he could bask in the light. He knew this, and he made her feel…seen. He never once told her to hide away in some distant lower floor, to hide who and what she is. He was happy to gloat about her dependability, happy to praise her skills in covering up brutal murders to look like unfortunate accidents.
He…
A distant explosion forced Airachnid to open all of her optics and receptors. She couldn't hear what could have caused the noise, but she could feel just how close it was to the walls of her prison shaking from the force. She wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if the disruption was caused by the new Prime’s inability to keep his own forces from dissent. He knew nothing of what it meant to keep someone in line.
Another explosion, and the quieter sounds of blasters firing. They seemed to fade in and out, but they all seemed targeted at her prison building. A riot or escape plan, perhaps.
Airachnid did not know anything to try and make a prediction. It was maddening, having so many eyes and yet unable to use any of them to know what was going on. She was blind in every possible way except physically.
She was defenseless, only having just enough energon in her systems to prevent deactivation. Her weapons were useless without the energon required, and her extra limbs had been removed long ago to prevent transformation or retaliation.
More blasts and explosions. This time, they sounded-
An impossibly loud sound erupted directly next to her, and pain traveled all across her frame in waves. Each of her optics was damaged, even the ones carefully concealed by her helm plating. She wasn't blind, not yet. She had just enough vision left to see that a giant hole had been made in her cell, revealing the outside. Just outside the gap was a jet of red and white and just a bit of blue-
Starscream. She recognized that imbecile easily. That high and mighty pathetic fool whom she so easily captured for Sentinel. High Guard exile scrap. He and his Seekers probably came for petty revenge for killing some of his forces, back when he was -and still is- an ignorant coward who hid as soon as he struck.
Without thinking, Airachnid jumped out of the opening made by the jets and onto Starscream in his aircraft form, clawing and tearing and prying at the metal of his wings and any other area she could reach. Even without her extra limbs and weapons, she knew how to fight, and she knew how to fight dirty.
Sentinel used to commend her for that. For being brutal yet efficient. For being swift and strong and vicious and-
Airachnid screamed out. She clung to the Seeker like a second set of armor. She didn't care that he transformed to try and counter her attacks, didn't care that she was being reckless and risking her life for nothing. She had nobody to fight for, no cause to follow.
These ignorant fools, Autobots or Decepticons or whatever they chose to call themselves were dooming Cybertron more than Sentinel ever did. Why couldn't they see that? Why couldn't they see that Sentinel intended to betray the Quintessons and liberate their planet once and for all, that he did what he did to protect their home temporarily?
She saw things before they happened. She saw how things were supposed to happen. But then these filthy half-wits got in the way.
Her senses came back to her once she realized she was falling, that some other Seeker had torn her off of their commander. She didn't panic. Though she would have liked to be able to fight with more than just her servos, she would gladly pick dying while fighting rather than rotting away in a cell or in a surveillance operations room.
One of the Seekers shot something towards her, and she wasn't able to dodge without the propeller that would usually be on her back. Whatever the thing was made contact with her helm, and everything glitched and burned before going dark.
——
“…Wake her up, and fast.”
Airachnid’s systems hummed to life, and she was immediately overwhelmed by all the notifications of her injuries and the critical state of her energon reserves. There was nothing but red registering in her optics, an unusual sight devoid of the details she was so used to processing.
Familiar surroundings. This was on the surface, nowhere near Iacon City or energon train routes. Red lighting. Nighttime. Distant burning.
Bright blue dotted and smudged against every single one of her optics, a searing pain washing over the injuries despite the lack of sensory inputs around them. Those cowardly imbeciles must have damaged her optics to prevent her from gaining any information.
She was forced up and forward with the distinct sensation of a blaster pressed to the cabling on her nape, the slight heat from the barrel nearly activating and the sound of it charging up being more than enough to make the assumption. Her servos were clamped behind her with the distinct heat and hue of energon cuffs, and she was forced to walk forward with shaky steps.
Her optics clicked and shuttered to process her surroundings fully. It was made very clear where she was now.
Bots and mechs of all kinds created a rough path for her to walk through in what she realized was their run-down base, all branded with the same symbol somewhere on their wings or limbs. The base was filled to the brim with other mechs and femmes alike, all bearing that same symbol. The simplified helm of Megatronus Prime was now an insignia for a band of miserable fools.
Airachnid would narrow a singular pair of her many optics, but the bright blue energon leaking from them prevented her with a sharp sting of pain. The equally bright blue energon cuffs holding her servos behind her back certainly didn't help.
It was humiliating to be paraded in front of these exiled High Guard miner-following imbeciles. At least with kneeling to the Quintessons, it was an unspoken rule with Sentinel to never bring up those moments of submission. But here in this dingy wrecked ship (a poor excuse for a base if she's ever seen one, especially after she and her fleet destroyed most of it), these red-eyed dimwits had already started to chatter and gossip amongst themselves.
“Look, Starscream and the other Seekers came back! They managed to catch Airachnid!”
Airachnid had to hold herself back to prevent gutting the insolent mechs where they stood, something that became increasingly harder to do as her propeller parts were either broken or no longer present to aid in her typical slaughter. She kept marching forward, not just to prevent herself from doing something she'd regret but also because a blaster was pressing against her spine as she walked.
Fearful cowards.
Even with a limited range of vision with damaged and bleeding optics, Airachnid was still acutely aware of her surroundings. The supposed warriors before her were nothing but fools with weaponry. She saw everything. The way some of them shifted uncomfortably when she glanced at them, how others narrowed their optics at hers to hide their dread.
Predictable.
She resisted smirking to herself upon seeing just how many of the High Guard were missing. She knew what happened to them, of course. She sliced them to ribbons with her blades. Perhaps that was why her presence here was such a spectacle to behold. She stood just a little taller as she walked, savoring how some of the surrounding bots shrank under her gaze and physical presence.
Starscream sneered from behind her, his glitched voice box causing some of his words to crackle and be pitched much higher than normal.
“Keep walking, freakshow.”
The null ray on his arm pressed into her back even more, causing her to stumble forward ever so slightly. She said nothing in response, only opening up the back of her helm for just a split second to let her many bleeding optics gaze at his crimson ones.
She couldn't help but smirk a little once she heard and saw his determined expression turn into a panicked one for a split second.
The rest of the walk through the pathetic base was uneventful, save for a forgettable mech or two from the sidelines who tried to shout at her for killing their best friends or Conjux or Trine member or whatever it was they said, outbursts that were quickly hushed with a glare from Starscream and shushes from the other surrounding bots. It was almost funny.
Airachnid and her escorts ended up reaching a throne towards the end of the room, one that was fashioned from various junk scrap metal pieces and stray cables. Fitting for the mech sitting upon it.
D-16. Or Megatron, as he now insisted on calling himself. Either way, he was still a petulant brute. Even with his new silvery armor plating and tank alt-mode, he still reeked of inexperience and an innate lack of proper control over his forces.
Starscream kicked one of her legs from behind, causing her to kneel awkwardly to avoid falling forward. He and his Seekers then emerged from behind her to join their leader in stoic positions, their pure red eyes rivaling the crimson moons of Cybertron itself. Starscream’s torn plating and sparking wires brought her immense satisfaction, though nobody would be able to tell from her expression.
Someone tried quietly suggesting he get checked out by a medic, but he rejected the notion with glitching hissed words. A small spark from a bundle of exposed wires made him curse quietly to himself, and Airachnid’s gaze narrowed at the sight. Even without her extra limbs and her weapons, the High Guard were still complete jokes.
For a while, it was mostly quiet. There was the occasional distant whispering in the background as Airachnid tried and failed to regain some of the sight she lost after the fight with the Seekers. Megatron continued to glare at her with disgust from his throne as if he was some battle-torn warlord and not an upgraded miner.
She said nothing. She did nothing. She knew how to easily break the energon cuffs holding her servos back. War and surveying battles provide such tricks. She should slaughter all of these imbeciles where they stand.
She should have killed D-16, but she struck him only once. It was all she needed to do to subdue a forgettable miner. Sentinel wanted him alive, after all.
But here, she was surrounded by other soldiers with fully loaded weapons. It was best to watch and wait. To do what she has always done.
Her main pair of optics narrowed to match Megatron’s. His faceplate twisted with revulsion even further if it were possible. Starscream seemed all too eager to tear her spark from her chest if the silver mech demanded it.
“I should have you torn apart right in front of everyone here just for being alive. For working with Sentinel to keep up a lie that was bound to be revealed. For hunting anyone close to the truth. For many things that would take me too long to list.”
Megatron’s faceplate contorted with detestation and far too many other emotions, ones that he didn't have the skill to hide from Airachnid’s perception. Anger. Hatred. Disgust. Reminiscing. Regret.
His words prompted the other High Guard members- the Decepticons- to ready their weapons and point them all at her. Some had even stepped forward as if waiting for their leader to give a silent cue.
However, the silver-plated mech held a black servo up to subdue them. The other bots around him turned their heads in confusion, clearly all too eager to kill her if only given the chance.
“Lord Megatron, what is the meaning of-”
Starscream was hushed with a sharp side-eyed glare, and he hesitantly lowered his damaged arm weapons. The other Seekers and Decepticons slowly followed his actions, all of them reduced to meager insects underneath their leader’s gaze. Airachnid held in a scoff at how easily they were corrected.
“As much as I wish to rip each of your optics out one by one…”
Airachnid braced herself for whatever may come next, the energon cuffs around her servos straining with pressure. The back of her helm split just ever so slightly, just enough for her to use her damaged optics to seek a way out, any way to escape. Her main pair and the ones on the side of her helm all focused on the mech in front of her, his grey and black frame still mostly covered by shadow.
She could escape, though not easily. There were gaps in the plating of the upper rafters, cables and wires parted just enough for her to slip through. She would need to subdue the Decepticons around her. Prioritize the strongest. Starscream, then Soundwave, then-
“…You would be more useful to me with them intact.”
Airachnid lifted her helm slightly, the back plates closing completely. So that was what he wanted. Her skills. With how Starscream and his Seekers made their entrance in Iacon City, it was clear that the Decepticons didnt have anyone who specialized in stealth or covert operations. It was painfully obvious that they needed her experience.
But working for a leader like Megatron? It wasn't worth staying alive and becoming a warrior again. It was an embarrassment. A stain on her history of working for someone like Sentinel.
What would he think, seeing her like this? What would he think of her now, joining a group of inexperienced imbeciles in order to survive?
No. She was not getting involved with this meaningless war. Whether it was with the Quintessons or the Autobots or whatever they called themselves, Airachnid wasn’t interested. Cybertron was doomed either way.
Nothing will have any meaning, and none of these imbeciles cared.
Megatron, however, seemed to be the most delusional of all. He acted as if his word was law here, and so did his minions. They were blinded, but not by the new Prime’s so called deceptions.
The energon cuffs linking her arms behind her back were suddenly removed, and someone forced her to stand upright. She must have been trapped deep within her own mind, otherwise how else could someone approach her without her detecting it?
The optics on the sides of Airachnid’s helm shuttered and blinked individually, each of them reflecting her confusion and sudden tuning into her surroundings once more. There were more Decepticons around her, nearly crowding her but clearly too afraid to actually approach her. Some of them had malicious, almost satisfied smirks on their faces, others had disdainful and disapproving frowns.
It started off quiet, then it quickly became loud cheering and chanting, each of the Decepticons looking in the distance at something. Airachnid followed their gazes, and her optics narrowed.
A red-hot branding iron was being carefully carried over to her in the servos of a large mech, aimed directly at the center of her chest plating just beneath her neck cabling. The insignia was the helm of Megatronus Prime, now desecrated and pathetically symbolic of the Decepticon cause.
Airachnid never cared for the Primes in the first place- except perhaps a certain pretender one- but even she raised an optic ridge at the sorry excuse of immortalization this was. Her secondary optics focused on the different Decepticons around her, each bearing the violet symbol on them somewhere. Wings on one, chest plating on another.
Through this symbol, she would be bound to the Decepticons until her spark gave out or until it was torn from her by her enemies. Through this, she would be loyal to them. At least, that was their definition of loyalty.
The mech with the branding iron approached her slowly as he got closer, the visor over his optics unable to hide his uneasiness as Airachnid didn't move an inch. Her optics hardly narrowed as she gazed at the sizzling metal meant to mark her place in the faction for the rest of her existence.
But these fools knew nothing. They don't know what it means to hold an oath to someone, to swear to stand by them with everything they have, everything they are. To kill and lie and fight not as a servant to their leader but as a complement, as a missing piece to something greater. As someone who understands their leader and is understood in turn.
The searing pain of branded symbols was nothing. It was insignificant compared to the true bonds that forged themselves underneath, carving them into a spark and into life effortlessly. The connection that inspired someone to their greatest good and their darkest evils.
Airachnid only stared directly in front of her at Megatron- her new leader- as the hot iron was placed on the center of her chest plating, not even flinching at the steaming heat as it pressed harder than it probably should. Megatron stared back at her, helm raised as if he had conquered an army. As if he had broken her in.
The other mechs around him didn't share the sentiment. Starscream, in particular, had a displeased and sour expression. His position as second in command was threatened. He was threatened. Predictable. An easy target to make an example of.
If playing weak was what it took for Megatron to lower his guard, then Airachnid would do it. She would play along with his meaningless words and his insufferable band of fools for as long as it took. She would play the part of a faithful and dependable little soldier for Megatron and wait. She would wait and watch, just like she always has.
Airachnid always saw things before they happened. She could see the path unraveling itself now.
While every other Decepticon had careful fear of their leader, she would wait and watch, weaving in between the shadows and the light. She made very little mistakes when it came to her duty, her purpose. Sentinel always told her that. However, there was one mistake that led her here today. She struck D-16 only once. She left him alive.
But now, a new opportunity has presented itself. Airachnid would be damned if she ever let go of it now.
So, she will keep her optics open. She will weave a web and familiarize herself with her new circumstances. She will wait. She will watch. And when the time finally comes,
Airachnid will strike twice.