Prime

One For Sorrow

The hardest times were when Airachnid was alone in her ship, accompanied only by her growing collection of "endangered" species. Skinned, eviscerated, disassembled, but all of them were long since dead, trudging through the vacuum of space.

She longed for the war, when she'd had an endless supply of autobots to torture at her leisure. Now, many of her collectibles gathered dust on the outsides of their display tubes, forlorn. She'd told herself she wanted them for her collection at the time, but all along she'd known the truth.

Sometimes, Airachnid just wanted to hear something – anything – scream.