Last time on the Lost Episodes...
Obsidian: <to himself> She's too clingy, too needy, too... butch.
I need a girl who's more feminine. Someone who isn't afraid to stand on
Thrust: What's going on here? What have you done to Jetstorm's
Stryka: I would date with you.
Obsidian: <slowly leaving> Pigtailed girl... I love you.
Silverbolt: <spinning around> Blackarachnia!
And now, back to our story.
<Inside Megatron's Mighty Metal Megahead>
Megatron listens inattentively to Thrust's sad, paltry tale as the Diagnostic Drones flit
about the interior of the massive skull-robot-thing, making adjustments and fine-tuning
equipment. All of their energies seemed focused on a rather small, yet
extremely well-wired chamber.
Megatron: Is that all?
Thrust: You don't think it's enough? They took over Jetstorm's
room! And now these "Dinobots" have--
Megatron: ...have done NOTHING to warrant our intervention! Is this
the reason you called me away from my VERY important work? So that I could
hear your wailings over some maligned affliction regarding a hole in the ground?
Thrust: But, Jetstorm--
Megatron: Jetstorm is GONE. The last of the treacherous element has
been weeded out from our midst, and has been replaced by far more capable and
Megatron glowers at Thrust for a moment, who stares at Megatron's virtual
image with puppy-dog-like intent.
Megatron: ...well, almost. I have neither the time nor the patience
to listen to your sniveling. There are far more important tasks at hand!
Thrust: Like recapturing the Manhole of Doom?
Megatron: Yes, like recapturing the...
The Diagnostic Drone flies up to the holographic image for a moment and
whispers into its holographic ear.
Megatron: NO! This "manhole of doom" is none of our
concern. Good riddance to it! Maybe now you'll destroy the Maximals
for me rather than waste valuable plot-driving time playing cards!
A tendril whips out at Thrust faster than sight, and pulls him closer to the ghost image.
Megatron: Now, you will go and find your comrades and bring them to
me. We are nearly ready to move on to the next phase of our plans.
There is time neither for delays nor petty self-indulgence!
Thrust says nothing as he is put back down on the balcony. He turns around to leave, when Megatron pipes up again.
Megatron: Oh, and Thrust? Disobey me and it'll be the last time.
Thrust: Since when I have I been anything but loyal?
Megatron: Indeed... You are, after all, only Waspinator.
Thrust wheels by as the Diagnostic Drone hovers over the exit.
Thrust stares at the grin that splays over what passes for its mouth.
Diagnostic Drone: That's right, run along like a good little lap dog.
Thrust: Outta my way, Skir.
Thrust backhands the little blue orb with barely a thought. The
Diagnostic Drone, Mark II flies up beside his companion to aid him.
Bob Skir / Diagnostic Drone: A little help, here...
Marty Isenberg / Diagnostic Drone, Mark II: I have no sympathy for you.
Bob Skir / Diagnostic Drone: ...sh-shut up, Marty...
Outside, The Big Giant Floating Head is submerged up to the eyes in
water. A tiny, almost unnoticeable rubber ducky bobs up and down in front
Megatron: >sigh< No one understands us...
Rubber Ducky: >SQUEAK!<
<A temporary sickbay -- Inside the Maximal base>
Checking his readouts and medical data, Rattrap keeps silent vigil over
the unconscious Blackarachnia, who in a few moments becomes not so unconscious.
Blackarachnia: What happened?
Rattrap: You have a little bump on your head, but otherwise you'll be
Blackarachnia: But the pain...
Rattrap: I took care of that.
Blackarachnia: ...? You're right! What did you do?
Rattrap: Eh, the virus mutated your Technorganic body's natural internal
nanite system so that it reverts your form to an earlier template. The
little critters were having a spot of trouble with your TransMetal half, so I, ah, fixed
Blackarachnia: <smiling> Ever my protector, right?
Rattrap: Yeah, well... it was my fault you got infected in the first
place, and I should have gotten you out of there when the quantum surge
hit. What can I say, Webs; it was the least I could do.
Blackarachnia: <getting up> So I won't turn into Tarantulas anymore?
Rattrap: Well, er, not exactly.
Blackarachnia: What? I thought you said--!
Rattrap: Don't burst a servo, kiddo! You're still...
Blackarachnia: Still what?
Blackarachnia falls over, unconscious. When she gets back up a few
moments later, she has turned into Tarantulas.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: Oh, terrific...
Rattrap: Since we don't know a lot about these Technorganic bodies, I
couldn't remove the nanites, but I did manage to reprogram them a little.
It'll take a while, but I think they can eventually be taught to handle your
TransMetal half, and then we can work on a way of curing--
Stomping is heard, followed by a loud crash.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: What in the name of Hook, Line, and Sinker is
going on out there?!
<Outside the makeshift sickbay>
T-Wrecks: You dishonor yourself with this needless display of aggression,
Silverbolt: After everything I've suffered, you dare mock me with this
feigned aloofness? Do dare sully *my* honor and that of my lady?
T-Wrecks: Any warrior who can best the leader of the Dinobots in battle
deserves the respect of T-Wrecks.
Nightscream: <singing> You got beat up by a giiiiirl! You got
beat up by a giiiiiiir-URK!
T-Wrecks: <holding Nightscream by his hair> Silence, whelp.
<to Silverbolt> My feelings for Blackarachnia are nothing more sinister
than those of admiration, young one. Do not push this issue further, lest
you bring terrible consequences to bear.
Nightscream: <rubbing his injured scalp> ...pain...
Silverbolt: Though I must maintain my distance, I am still charged with
her safety and well-being. Your presence here is unwanted, and I'm going
to make certain that you do no more damage by remaining further!
T-Wrecks: Ha! This false bravado does not impress me! What right have you to claim exclusivity over this fair one's
spark when you deny its cries for companionship at every turn? If she were
truly Predacon once, how disgraced she must be to remain in service with this
Silverbolt: Go on, "Big T," just push me one more
decimeter. We'll see how "big" you really are.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: Are you boys quite finished? <to T-Wrecks> You should be ashamed of
yourself for stooping this low! <turns to Silverbolt, more
sorrowfully> And you...
The s/he spider slides back up the webbing, and whispers almost inaudibly.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: ...don't do me any favors.
T-Wrecks: He is right. This bickering is unbecoming of both of
us. I am... dishonored.
Botanica: Are your skull casings as thick as your senses of pride?
Don't you know who that was?
Silverbolt: She's awake! Why didn't anyone tell me...?
Botanica: I'll go find her...
As Botanica burrows off into the distance, T-Wrecks and Silverbolt stand
in silence over the incapacitated form of Nightscream.
T-Wrecks: I had heard of her affliction, but I never thought...
Silverbolt: If it had not been for you, she still might be here, and we
could have learned what happened to her out there!
T-Wrecks: ENOUGH! I will suffer no more of your
childishness. I am going where I am needed. You would be wise to do
With that, he turns around, transforms, and stomps off out of the Oracle
Nightscream: Woah. He sure showed you, eh birdbot?
Silverbolt: You die now.
Nightscream: <cringing> Mommy!
<Jetstorm's Room -- Inside the Palace of Proverbial Plenty>
Obsidian: You want us to disobey Megatron... for this?
Thrust: Yeah, why not?
Stryka: It is our duty to protect Cybertron!
Obsidian: And Megatron IS Cybertron.
Thrust: Tell me something I don't know... What about
glory? What about honor? What about standing your ground no matter
what, and holding on with all your spark that which is most dear to you?
<violins begin playing> Haven't you ever had something that
was so special, so sacred to you that the very thought of losing it would drive
you mad? Wouldn't you do anything to protect that which is more important
than all the universe? Now is your chance to do something so selfless that
small-minded things like obligation and responsibility pale beside it.
Stryka: It is our duty to protect Cybertron!
Obsidian: And Megatron--
Thrust: --IS Cybertron. Yeah, yeah. Forget duty! What is
it that YOU want most?
Stryka and Obsidian look pensive.
Obsidian: Will the Maximals be there?
Thrust: I'm sure they'll show up eventually. This plan can't possibly fail.
Stryka: <to herself> If the Maximals are there, then maybe that hunky
Predacon will be there too!
Obsidian: <to himself> I might see the pig-tailed goddess once
again, if all
Obsidian and Stryka: We'll do it! <they glance at each other again>
Thrust: Then let's get going, kids! We've got a manhole to save!
<By the river side, much like the one from Episode 9>
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: That stubborn idiot. What is he trying to
Blackarachnia stares at the cool, seemingly motionless water.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: Looks cold...
Just as Blackarachnia is about to slide into the water, dozens of little
robot critters which look like phallic vegetables begin to surround her/him.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: What the...?
Botanica: GET DOWN!
Botanica jumps at Blackarachnia from the back, who is in no position to
react. The both of them, along with the little robot things, fall headlong
into the river. Blackarachnia lets out a scream of shock, which is muffled
by the density of the liquid surrounding them. Moments later, they
surface. Blackarachnia doesn't even care that she has returned to her
Blackarachnia: ACK! Why--
Botanica motions to be quiet and points skyward. Several small but
rather concentrated battalions of helicopter drones pass overhead.
Rumbling from ground units carries throughout the riverbed.
Blackarachnia: What are you doing here?
Botanica: I followed you from base. And I'm not the only one.
Beyond the air fleet, Blackarachnia sees a vague, birdlike figure perched
on a nearby skyscraper.
Botanica: What do you say we continue this in elsewhere, in private?
<The Manhole of Doom, moments later>
Dinotron: I can't stand this waiting around. Where's the boss?
Airraptor: I think it's kind of fun...
Dinotron: You would. <draws another card> By the pit! Is
there no end to this randomized madness!?
Dinotron stands up, brandishing his sword in order to vanquish his
undesirable hand once and for all. Triceradon barely takes notice.
Triceradon: Do you have any eights?
A card flutters down in front of the cross-legged Dinobot.
Striker: That wasn't me.
Triceradon: <turning around> Then who--
Triceradon is sucker-punched by a lone BumbleCon, which transforms and
drives away. Airraptor transforms to chase after the offending drone.
Triceradon: What the hell? Get that little prick! No one
attacks the Dinobots and lives!
Triceradon isn't able to finish before he and the others see Airraptor
fall to the ground, sparks flying out of his damaged
areas. He is quickly followed by scores of helicopter drones. Ground
troops take no time in surrounding the small group.
Striker: Oh... shit.
BumbleCons take formation and begin circling the cornered Dinobots.
Dinotron: I think we should call for backup.
Triceradon: No way! We can handle this! Dinobots: ATTACK!
Thrust: Destroy them! Don't let a single one of the Maximals escape!
Triceradon: WHAT did you call us?
Striker: Crap... he's gonna blow. Take cover!
<Traipsing about the sewers (we haven't seen any Maximals do THAT for a
while, have we?)>
We now return you to this heartwarming conversation, already in progress.
Blackarachnia: ...I was a fool to believe he... we... could be like we used
to. I'm better off without his all-encompassing asceticism, alone.
Botanica: Do you really want to leave him alone like that?
<sighs> I know what it's like to be out of place, ostracized.
Blackarachnia: What do you mean?
Botanica: Hasn't anyone noticed? My character cliché and thoroughly
uninteresting. Fans hate me, and the writers don't know what to do with
me. I can't even
figure out what I'm DOING here. Is a little development too much to
ask? ...and then there's you.
Blackarachnia: What *about* me?
Botanica: He cares about you, can't you see that? You have something
to worry about. I spend all of my time off camera, so I made these little
ones to keep my company.
Blackarachnia looks down at one of the little carrot-shaped robots.
It tugs at its bandanna so that it accentuates its one eye, and gives her a
Blackarachnia: You're right. <picks up one of the carrotrons> I guess... I
love the dunderhead. <putting the little robot down> But I
just can't take him like this. I've almost forgotten what it was that made
me want to get him back so badly.
Botanica: I see. <pauses> So... what do you think of that Rattrap, eh?
Blackarachnia looks up through an opening in the sewer. Sounds of
battle can be easily heard.
Blackarachnia: What do you suppose is going on up there?
Botanica: Let's take a look...
Botanica sends some of her little companions topside to get a good look,
while she generates a temporary periscope.
Botanica: The Dinobots! They're under attack! We've got to
Blackarachnia: You can't! You saw all of those drones back
there. If we jump in without a plan of attack, we'll be slagged!
Botanica: What do you suggest?
Blackarachnia: Are Obsidian and Stryka up there?
Botanica: From what I can see. Their drones sure are.
Blackarachnia: I have a plan...
<Very, very near the Manhole>
Triceradon: Striker! You dead?
Striker: Not yet.
Triceradon: What about the others?
Striker looks at what's left of Airraptor and Dinotron.
Dinotron: <weakly> We're not *quite* dead!
Triceradon: It was good knowing you, buddy.
The two remaining Dinobots charge headlong into the fray, with nothing but
melee weapons. They take on a small group of BumbleCons, and do quite a
bit of damage before the heavy-hitters catch up to them.
Thrust: You won't stand between me and my dreams any more, filthy
Triceradon: REEARGH! DIE!
Stryka's drones surround the pair and begin to fire, when they suddenly
veer off. The BumbleCons likewise beat a hasty retreat, leaving one or two
to deal with the enemy. Striker and Triceradon look around,
dumbfounded. Finally they see, standing just in front of the Manhole of
Doom, a very pissed off looking Blackarachnia, sporting pigtails. She is flanked by scores
and scores of carrots with bandannas and machine guns.
Striker: I don't know what those things are, but I'm not about to argue!
Thrust: Why must everyone stand between me and my happiness? I won't
accept this! BumbleCons! DESTROY them all!
The small little carrot robots put up absolutely no resistance to the
fierce attack of the Vehicon troops. In all the carrot-based carnage, Blackarachnia reaches for a secreted vial of hot
water and douses herself, turning into Tarantulas. S/he leaps over the
destruction and comes to the aid of the two fallen Dinobots, fending off helicopter
drones trying to finish them off. This immediately catches the
attention of Stryka, whose drones are currently busy pummeling Triceradon.
Stryka: Such power! Such brute force! This is a man unafraid
of his own strength! I want him even more! But I can't allow my
intentions to seem transparent to the others...
Stryka directs her attack towards the new Predacon, who handles the drones
Obsidian: <to himself> What's wrong with her? Why doesn't she
follow our plan of attack?
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: Is that the best you can do? I was hoping
an intellect of your caliber would be able to better challenge my guile!
The remaining Dinobots, not wasting the opportunity, retreat back to the
manhole, their fallen comrades in tow. However, as they take up their
positions Triceradon's foot collides with
Tankorr's head, sending it hurling down the manhole with most of the card deck.
Thrust: Damn you! <pounds fist on the ground> Has society totally broken down? Is nothing
sacred? Is love a lie!?
The Manhole now secured, Blackarachnia/Tarantulas starts taking on the
rest of Stryka's modest battalion of drones. It's just then when Stryka
herself joins the battle, and locks claws -- so to speak -- with the feisty
Stryka: <to Blackarachnia/Tarantulas> Come with me. Join the Vehicons. You
served under Megatron once. Throw aside this petty conflict and serve with him again.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: Such strength! Such confidence! I
*like* that in a woman! EheheheEHeheheh! Certainly, I will join you,
but on one condition.
Stryka: You have but to name it.
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: Could you take me to see the sparks? I
would love to see the sparkle of their little glowing lives... so much like your
Stryka: Oh... I wish I could, my love... but I cannot--
Blackarachnia/Tarantulas: Fine, if you won't talk to me, then maybe your
boyfriend will talk to my Maximal counterpart. I hear she's nearby... REAL
Blackarachnia ducks into the manhole, and comes out looking like her
Obsidian: Pigtailed goddess! I must have her only for myself!
Drones: Destroy the Maximals! Leave the fair one to ME.
Blackarachina: I guess this wasn't such a great plan after all.
Striker: Your courage shall not go unanswered, lady 'Arachnia. We
shall meet again after our deaths, where you will receive the reward for your
true bravery and friendship in the face of certain destruction.
Botanica: MUST you be so morbid?
As a line of helicopter drones bears down upon the group, guns blazing, a
well-directed energy bolt sends the battalion flying into itself and exploding
Triceradon: It's the boss!
Striker: And he's brought reinforcements!
T-Wrecks: It is not I you should thank, it is...
Blackarachnia: ...Silverbolt. You were watching us the whole time,
Primal: There's no time for that! Maximals: ATTACK!
Cheetor: Oh yeah! Time to get *dangerous!*
Blackarachnia: Here to save me again! Don't you ever quit?
Silverbolt: Not when my lady is in danger.
Blackarachnia: I'm not anyone's "lady"!
Silverbolt spies a lone BumbleCon sneaking around their defenses, heading
for Blackarachnia. Without thinking, he grabs one of Cheetor's swords,
leaps onto the offending Vehicon, and slashes its tires and engine with his
stolen weapon. The drone flips on its side and begins careening wildly,
going into a deadly spin. The wayfaring Volkswagen chassis finds itself on an
intercept course with Obsidian -- who doesn't see it coming. Acting out of
instinct, or a deeply-rooted subconscious, Stryka slides in front of her escort
and absorbs the blow. Mostly. The two Vehicon generals are knocked
aside, entwined in each others arms, Obsidian in Stryka's more than the other
Obsidian: You... saved me.
Stryka: <relaxing her voice> Of course. Vat else vould I be doink here?
Obsidian: Oh... Stryka. Let's go home.
Stryka: I zought you'd never ask.
The two lovebirds and what remains of their contingents leave with them. Thrust,
alone, and not suspecting the retreat, charges headlong into the surviving Dinobots, who
stare him down.
Thrust: Look at what you've done! All I've worked for, all of my
dreams... you've destroyed them! That's fine... do your worst!
Nothing matters anymore, not without the Manhole! BumbleCons: ATTACK!
Thrust: BumbleCons! <looks around> Oh, bloody hell.
Triceradon knuckles Thrust square in the head.
Triceradon: THAT'S for calling us Maximals...
NickBee flutters to the entrance of the Oracle chamber as the Maximals and
damaged Dinobots return to base. He transforms and lands on the walkway.
Airraptor: Primus, look at me. I'm a wreck. Are you sure
there's no CR chamber around here?
Primal: <brushing off his hands> Positive. Your wounds are
very grave indeed. The only way to save you is... to reformat you!
Primal: Hahaha! Just kidding there. You'll be fine.
Airraptor: Kill you!
NickBee looks up expectantly at Silverbolt, whose expression is entirely
NickBee: Is it...?
Silverbolt only puts his hand on NickBee's shoulder, and stares him long
and hard in his rather human-looking eyes before shaking his head in
sadness. He continues to walk past with the rest of the Maximals as
NickBee slumps in disdain.
NickBee: No... this wouldn't have happened if I had been there. Did
you see the original script? I was supposed to have this wonderful
spark-to-spark with Silverbolt <waves the first draft of the script
around>. Is this what I joined the Maximals for? To be overlooked
at every important juncture? When will I get what's coming to me, dammit!
Primal: <thumbing his nose> Oh, yes. That reminds me.
Remember when you called me "Buddha Monkey" back in episode two?
<cracks his knuckles alternately> I still haven't quite repaid you
properly for that remark.
Optimus pulls back to land one on NickBee when the small Maximal covers
his head with his mandibles.
NickBee: Not in the face! I'm a pretty man!
Primal: <holding his hand next to his head> What's that you say,
Boastful Fist? You don't care?
Primal pummels NickBee.
Nightscream: What's the big deal? It was just some dirty old
<The Remains of the Battle>
Thrust sits alone at the edge of a newly-formed crevice in the ground,
surrounding the location of the once-revered Manhole of Doom. The lone
Vehicon mutters to himself in his solitude.
Thrust: It's gone... it's gone... it's gone... I have nothing left...
An image of Botanica and Blackarachnia forms in Thrust's eye.
Thrust: But you understand, don't you? Of course you do... of course
you do... Chicks just love the brooding loner bit. Brooding loner...
I'm a brooding loner... I'll show them all...
Thrust raises a defiant fist at the sky.
Thrust: I'LL SHOW THEM! YOU'LL SEE!
>The End, for now...
* * *
Tales of Cybertron, Part 4
Benny: Come on, there isn't a lot of time!
The Last Autobot: Slow down, kid! My servos aren't what they used to
Benny: We have to go now! Now now now, go go go!
The Last Autobot: What's the big hurry?
Benny: We have to show the Maximals that they were wrong about
Cybertron! Reformatting isn't the answer! <stops running>
They're trying to destroy us all, don't you see?
Benny stares through the old codger as the image of Mr. Bamt rolls around
the the background. Pathetic... failure... purge the kiddies...
The Last Autobot: Son, when you get as old as I do, you don't see much of
anything any more.
Benny: Are you going to help me or not?
The Last Autobot: I don't know, I just have this nagging feeling that I'm
supposed to be waiting here for something, but I can't quite put my finger on
Benny: This is it! Trust me, I've got five kids to feed!
Thrust: <from the planet's surface> I'LL SHOW
THEM! YOU'LL SEE!
Unicron: Not if I show them first, impudent one. Prepare for essence
Bob Skir / Diagnostic Drone: Before that... <pulls something from
behind his back> you may want this.
The Diagnostic Drone carefully lays a sticker that says "Property of
Phil Bond" on the side of the screaming Decepticon's head.
Unicron: Hmm... what makes you say that, insignificant metal flea?
Bob Skir / Diagnostic Drone: Call it a hunch...
Unicron: It is time! Let the universe quake! The devourer at
last is returned!
Lights fizzle and flash. The Diagnostic Drone looks on approvingly
through his shades.
Galvatron: UNICRON is reborn!
Holy crap on a rusted metal pole! Is this the end for the