Tarantulas vs. The Vok: A tale of love, laughs and designer knitwear

By Metal Gear Prime

Summary: The first part of my 'Other Victories' parody. WOO!

Part 1: Revenge of the Vok

We start off in a spacey nebula place, wherein lies the Vok, a race of floating skull aliens. A pair of Vok (Vok A and Vok B) stare at each other. After three hours of this Vok A speaks up.

Vok A: I've received word of a temporal anomaly in Grid 1093728346, otherwise known as Grid 'Ducky'.

Vok B: Umm…

Vok A: Earth.

Vok B: Oh yeah, Earth! Where we did that experiment!

Vok A: Yes.

Vok B: So how's it coming?

Vok A: We discontinued it more than a year ago.

Vok B: Really? Pity that. Wasn't it supposed to allow us to genetically engineer a new type of fish finger?

Vok A: …I'd hit you if I had arms. Look, we need to head down to that planet. Megatron must be seized before he causes any more damage to the timeline. In short, we must 'throw down on his ass'.

Vok B: How shall we accomplish this task?

Vok A: By creating an awesomely powerful emissary which we shall inhabit but will somehow turn against us by the end of the day.

Vok B: Ah, of course.

The Vok look up and spot the bodies of Airazor and Tigatron. As the float up to them both Maximals open their optics and stare at their captors irritably.

Airazor: About slaggin' time!

Vok A: Pardon the delay, but we did say we would get to you shortly.

Tigatron: That was over a year ago!

Vok B: Was it? Boy, time flies when you're lying motionless in a nebula huh?

Airazor: Are you going to let us go or what?

Vok B: Oh, we're going to do much better than that!

Tigatron: Better?

Vok A: Yes, we're going to rip your still living sparks out of your bodies before fusing the said bodies into a being of almost unimaginable power.

Silence.

Airazor: And how the slag is that supposed to be better?!?

Vok A: Who said it was going to be better for you?

Tigatron: Son of a –

Whatever profanity Tigatron was going to use is lost as his spark and Airazor's spark are ripped from their bodies before the vessels are fused into the seriously badass Fuzor known as Tigerhawk. The Vok enter the beast before powering away towards Earth, not noticing the disembodied sparks of two royally pissed off Maximals following in their wake.

Meanwhile, at the Darkside Quickstrike is held between Rampage and Dinobot 2 as he goes on trial for his actions in 'Master Blaster'. Megatron is on his hover throne playing judge (complete with silly wig and hammer) while Inferno types up the trial's minutes. Waspinator is nowhere to be seen.

Megatron: Hearye hearye! Court is now in session! (Looks for Waspinator before speaking to Quickstrike) Where is your defense?

As Quickstrike tries to shrug the doors of the room burst open to reveal Waspinator in a crisp business suit and wearing a pair of glasses. He is also holding a briefcase.

Waspinator: I OBJECT!!!

Megatron (slightly stunned): Pardon?

Waspinator briskly walks over to Quickstrike and pats him on the shoulder as the Fuzor goggles at him.

Waspinator: Wazzzzpinator's client wants to plead insanity!!

Quickstrike (coming to): Ah do?

Megatron (warningly): Waspinator…

Waspinator: Wazzzzpinator also demand retrial! Wazzzzpinator barely have enough time to build winning case! But Wazzzzpinator now reveal secret weapon!

All: Secret weapon…?

Waspinator: Wazzzzpinator call character witnesses!

At this two wizened figures hobble into the room. They both look exactly like Quickstrike, except that one is wearing a dress and has her white hair in a bun while the other is dressed in dungarees and a cowboy hat as well as a scruffy beard.

Quickstrike: Ma! Pa!

             

Ma and Pa Quickstrike: Son!

Petrified at the though of more Southern accented Transformers hanging around the base, Dinobot 2 and Rampage open fire on Ma and Pa, reducing them both to so many atoms.

Waspinator: Okay, that not go so well. But Wazzzzzpinator have enough circumstantial evidence and irrelevant video footage to make this trial last until the end of time! MWAHAHAHAHAHA –

Everyone (save Quickstrike, who's restrained) whips out their large and, lest we forget, obscenely powerful guns and fire them at Waspinator. Bits of the unfortunate insect rain down in copious amounts.

Megatron (to Quickstrike): You're guilty. I sentence to you a slow and painful death at the hands of our resident pair of highly deranged yet extremely lovable psychopaths.

Rampage and Dinobot 2 give Quickstrike the sort of grins that would have Hannibal Lecter running for the nearest exit.

Quickstrike: But it wasn't me, Boss! It was the one-armed Transmetal spider!

Megatron: Suuuurre it was.

Luckily for the befuddled cowboy bot, the Predacon computer chose this moment to pipe up.

Predacon Computer: DANGER! DANGER WILL ROBIN…er, MEGATRON! LARGE, FLASHY METEOR THINGY HEADING STRAIGHT FOR US!

Megatron: What is it?

Predacon Computer: I told you. A large, flashy meteor thingy heading straight for us. Are you deaf?

Megatron: Lousy smart allecky…

At this Megatron turns to the others.

Megatron: As you are all aware we are in a crisis situation. Therefore I am invoking Directive 9434423443467889835437390F, effective immediately.

The Predacons stare at Megatron before erupting into a frenzy of screaming, running around in circles, frantically praying to Primus for salvation and general panic. Megatron stares at the display in amazement.

Megatron: You idiots! I said Directive 9434423443467889835437390F, not Directive 9434423443467889835437390E!

Predacons: Oh.

The Predacons immediately take their posts, with exception of Inferno who stands beside Quickstrike.

Inferno: What of the traitor Royalty? Shall I give him…the 'Treatment'?

Inferno reaches into subspace and whips out a large club-like device with numerous curving hooks, sixteen hammers and a cuddly duck's head attached to it. All four of Quickstrike's eyes widened in fear and confusion.

Megatron: Hmmm. We might need him for later, yesssss…

Inferno: Aw, please?

Megatron: Oh, very well. Anything for the birthday boy.  

Inferno: Yay!

As Inferno drags the screaming Quickstrike into the adjacent room Megatron leans back in his chair and smiles as he wonders why he was suddenly experiencing stabbing pains in his groin. Over at the Ark Rattrap and Rhinox are seated in old rocking chairs and are smoking pipes while staring at a scanner.

Rhinox: Meteor's a'comin.

Rattrap: Yep.

Over at Tarantulas' secret lab (the one with the constantly active neon lights and air raid sirens mounted over the entrance) the deranged spider was busily poking his Megatron voodoo doll with red hot needles when his computers warned him of the incoming 'meteor'. Seeing what it truly is, Tarantulas smiled and cackled like a loon, as per usual. This time he laughs so hard he doesn't see that he was about to sit on his pile of red hot needles.

The resulting scream was so high pitched that only Silverbolt heard it.

To be continued…