Dunananananananana-Decepticons!

Short chapter. My apologies.

Along Came a Wasp and Spider

XVIII

"Me Waspinator stay on this side of island. You Spider-Lady stay on that side."

Listening to the insane ramblings of this half bug, half-Cybertronian was making her mad. Blackarachnia glared at the crouching Waspinator, and sneered.

"Oh, will you shut up," she snapped, her claws raking through the ground. "Stupid wasp."

"Me Waspinator not stupid," the wasp-hybrid hissed. "Me Waspinator smart."

His purple wings trembled as he shuffled around. His claws raked at the ground, digging a shallow hole that was the length of his body. They had been on this island for Primus knows how long, and they were practically running on empty. No Energon, hardly any oil—practically nothing. Blackarachnia felt the burning in her systems, the aching need to refuel was apparent. And she knew that Waspinator was feeling the same thing.

"Sure," she muttered lowly as she watched him remake his ground-berth.

The techno-organic grabbed long and large leaves, and dragged them to rest on the surface of his shallow hole. He rearranged them, trying to make them plush and comfortable so that he can rest on them. His little claws pressed out the leaves, and nestled into them, curling up like a cat. It was late, and the birth of night was upon them. Blackarachnia stared at the wasp-Cybertronian, frowning sternly. She was tired, but if she were to recharge, she may not wake up. But if she were not to recharge, she would run out of energy and go offline quicker. The ex-Autobot leaned against a random tree, and pressed her legs to her chest. She would just have to recharge.

She hated it here. She hated being on Earth. It was hard to find any natural resources that would replenish her systems, and when she did, the oil was crude and was difficult to drink. She had found an oil spring not too far from where she was sitting, but that lug Waspinator had nearly drunk it all out of his greedy, animalistic need. Blackarachnia shifted, staring at the Decepticon logo bluntly pasted on her chest-plate. The Autobots had left her to rot, and now the Decepticons had.

Or had they?

Was that the sound of engine humming?

Blackarachnia glanced up when a circle of light beamed on her. She flinched, and Waspinator, who had been relaxing and falling into slumber, became alive and wild. His body arched, his claws out, wings spread and flapping insanely, and he was ready to strike. The femme Autobot-turned-Decepticon leapt up, joining the other Decepticon's side, and she was also ready to attack. Above, it was a large ship—not human, alien; Cybertronian. It kicked up dust and dirt, blanketing them with the organic debris, which also made it hard for them to see clearly. Waspinator hissed and growled, shifting his body back and forth, unsure if he should attack or wait then attack.

"Me Waspinator want to attack," he snarled, flapping his clear wings.

"Shut up, you idiot," she hissed as the techno-organic at her side. "Don't attack—you stay put." Her clawed servo was out in a swishing motion, and the other techno-organic hissed like a rabid animal at her, but he did not move.

Blackarachnia approached the ship, and faintly twitched when the door popped open. She twitched at the bright light that flushed upon her form. Waspinator trashed in place, glaring hard, and his long, slender tongue-glossa darted from his sharp jaws.

"Well, well, little lady, nice to see you again."

She knew that voice. Blackarachnia tensed at the sugar-laced voice, and narrowed her red optics at him. "Swindle," the Decepticon femme muttered.

"Well, you don't seem happy to see me," Swindle said, stepping out of his aircraft and onto the damp ground below. On his shoulder was someone Blackarachina never saw before—a feathered alien organic with a sly smile on his bright yellow beak. "And what happened to your helmet? You look garish without it."

"Shut up," she hissed. "Who's the organic?"

"This is my dear friend Zeljo Ma'le," Swindle stated, grinning as his large gold and purple servo motioned towards the critter sitting on his shoulder.

"Oh, Swindle, you flatter me," Zeljo said, his long ears twitching, and his clawed-hand pressed to his chest.

"Oh, no, I don't flatter you, I only speak the truth."

Blackarachnia glanced between the two of them, disgusted and angered. "Enough with the platitude," she hissed like a snake. "What do you want?"

Swindle arched an optic ridge to her, and his digits laced together. "Say, spidey, have you heard about good ol' Megatron and the others in his command?" he asked, grinning.

"No, if you haven't noticed, I've been stuck on this rock with the psycho behind me, and haven't been keeping up with the news," Blackarachnia said around an acidy snarl.

Swindle glanced over the femme's shoulder, staring at the wasp-like half-Cybertronian that shuffled like an enraged tiger in a tiny cage. Zeljo muttered under his breath in his native tongue, and his elongated tail gave a flick of annoyance.

"Well, the Autobots captured them."

This surprised the femme. "I-is this true?"

"Yes," Zeljo stated. "He's locked away with a . . . who are the rest?"

"Blitzwing, Shockwave, Lugnut—the lot you were with," Swindle stated with a wave of his servo.

"Starscream?"

"He is offline."

She scoffed at this. "Figures," Blackarachina said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Where is his body?"

"The humans took it, I believe," Swindle answered.

"For what?"

"I dunno, and I could really care less," Swindle stated with an uncaring shrug of his shoulder plates (being cautious of Zeljo all the while).

"Is this why you've come?" the femme inquired, allowing her arms to drop to her sides. "To tell me the news?"

"No, to make a deal, yes," Zeljo said, ears twitching.

Blackarachina stared at the organic alien perched like a parrot on the smaller Decepticon's shoulder. "What deal?" she asked.

Swindle glanced past her, and motioned at Waspinator. "Hey, big guy," he called in a sickening-sweet way.

Waspinator shifted, perking up with surprise at the small purple and dusty-gold Decepticon calling to him.

"Yes, you, come this way, big buddy," Swindle called, grinning with his purple optics matching. "Come over here."

Blackarachina cringed, and stared at the both of them sharply. "Why must he come?" she spat. The femme didn't want this lumbering idiot with her.

"We need all the help we can get," Zeljo said with smiling eyes and a wave of a talon-finger. "We would like both of you with us, yes."

Blackarachnia just wanted to slap or claw at the both of them, but she remained put as the lumbering wasp-Cybertronian joined her side, growling and practically foaming at the mouth.

"Me Waspinator want to know what feather-alien and small Decepticon want," he snarled, eyes wild and insane—not an ounce of sanity left in them.

"Small," Swindle whined, but there was an obvious tone of underlying anger in it.

Zeljo eyed the Decepticon he was perched upon, and let out a little huff. "Ignore that," he said, eyes fluttering before he gave both of them a little smile. "We would like you to join us, yes."

"Pah, for what reason?" the femme sneered.

"Well, as I have already told you, Lord Megatron was captured by the Autobots," Swindle said, regaining his composure from Waspinator's little comment. "We wish to free him."

Blackarachnia stared at the both of them with surprise. "You mean, break them out of jail?" she said, astonishment in her voice.

"Precisely," Zeljo said with a smirk.

"But we need an army to do that," Swindle stated.

"And we figured that you would want in—both of you," Zeljo said, lacing his fingers together.

"Would you?"

It was true—the plan was to find an army strong enough to fight the Autobots and free Megatron, and thus, the war would start again. To Zeljo and Swindle, war meant arms, arms meant money; money meant power. But, of course, the others couldn't know their plan, and surely Swindle could not allow Zeljo to know that he plans to kill him later on for his fortune once this plan was completed. Little did he know, but Zeljo was planning the same thing. Let's keep this all hush-hush, right, Zeljo and Swindle?

Blackarachnia considered it for just a moment. "What will be in it for the both of you?" she asked, optics narrowed. "Why do you want to?"

Swindle and Zeljo gave each other a knowing smirk. "Well, my fine friend," Swindle said, grinning all the while, "we can't let those pesky Autobots win, now, can we?"

"W-well, no."

"And especially after what they did to you, my dear."

The femme froze in place, memories rushing back to her, and she felt sick and all alone once more. Optimus and Sentinel leaving her behind; she glanced up, her red optics flaring, and a smile upon her lips—an evil smile. "I will join," she said.

Swindle clasped his servos together in a joyful manner. "Great!" he said with a grin. He turned to Waspinator. "And you?"

The second techno-organic stared dully at the business bot before speaking: "Me Waspinator want revenge on Autobot Bumble-bot. Me Waspinator join if me Waspinator can kill Bumble-bot."

Zeljo gave a wicked grin. "Then welcome to the club," he said.

Waspinator puffed out his chest, roared like a savage, and with a mighty burst of energy, pushed past them and entered the airship. The sounds of his claws upon the metal flooring of the machine could be heard from outside.

"Hey, don't scratch up my floors," Swindle yelled, chasing after the savage techno-organic.

Blackarachnia stood outside for just a moment, had a final look at the stars above, and joined the others on the spaceship.