Tomb Spyder
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Buzzkill. LOG-003.
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 17:36:08 +0000 UTCBuzzkill.
LOG-003.
He’d needed to explain the purpose of a dedicated Autobot scout to Raf once. In the end, after some extensive research and comparisons to human military forces, the both of them had found a decent enough match to what he was, in terms of purpose and experience.
Namely, an isolated unit used to operating behind enemy lines with little to no support. Or in other words, special forces.
Ironically, it meant that out of all of team Prime, Bumblebee was actually one of the best bots suited to exactly the kind of particular situation he’d managed to find himself in.
Which of course meant it didn’t take all that long for his processor to take everything into account, even as he continued to speed away from the more civilised parts of Jasper, instead focusing on making his way through isolated wilderness, more than distant from potential surveillance devices left sitting around by his pursuers.
Regardless, back to taking stock, and keeping certain factors in mind. Like energon. He had a few cubes stored away in his subspace. He was going to need more if he wanted to last longer than a few human weeks.
He also needed allies. That meant either reconnecting with the Autobots (the actual Autobots, which he was starting to worry weren’t going to be an option) or finding new ones. Whoever those copies had been were unlikely to view him as a friend after his own personal rendition of the Makeshift incident, and his damaged voice box likely only added to the issue of proper communication.
In turn, he also needed intel. A scout couldn’t operate effectively without properly understanding their surroundings, their resources, their capabilities, and what exactly they were up against.
He was lacking in technological support as well. That meant no access to a ground bridge, no comm links to friendly forces (if they even existed at all) and no access to repairs beyond what he could perform in the field. Not ideal.
Tapping into local human radio hadn’t revealed much, unfortunately. Everything seemed just the same as it always was, which didn’t really help-
His tires skidded a little as he drifted around a particularly rough patch of terrain, following a visibly neglected dirt road and idly keeping an optic on the flatlands around him before getting back on track with his thoughts.
…Said thoughts being what exactly his next steps were supposed to be. The sudden bout of nostalgia attached to the mental process was a bit of a surprise to the mech (reminding him of the earlier to middling parts of the war, back when he’d been caught deep in Decepticon territory), at least until he focused back on actually planning.
So, first things first, a secure hideout of some kind. A discreet location to lie low until he figured out just what was going on.
…Somewhere defensible, ideally with access to human infrastructure. A junkyard, an abandoned military facility, or a remote cave system would be ideal, but Bumblebee was willing to settle for a literal ditch if needed, so long as it was hidden. Though hopefully his current idea panned out on that front, it’d prove better than most options.
Second was, naturally, gathering more information. Something he was already working on, technically. Local news, human internet networks, radio transmissions, or even spying on the not-Autobots’ comms if he could tap back into them again.
From there…
The scout cringed internally at the thought, but considering everything he’d seen so far…
Time travel. He needed to confirm whether the ridiculous thought was correct or not, or whether something else was going on. He couldn’t afford discounting the potential of the idea.
…Alongside if there were any other changes brought about by his apparent shunting backwards through time. Just because the Autobots were apparently hostile here, didn’t mean the Cons necessarily weren’t.
Primus, maybe this was how Starscream had felt, all that time ago?
…The glitch still deserved everything he got, but his desperation certainly made a little more sense with context.
What else, what else…
Humanity. They were either also a threat here, or his best shot at actual allies, depending on their allegiance and relationship to the Cybertronians he’d run into. Was the United States government opposed to them? Subservient? What was the relationship between the two groups?
A lot of things to consider. A lot of information to learn. And a lot of issues to deal with. That was his current situation.
Thankfully, he potentially already had a half decent spot in terms of a hideout, which in turn might deal with several of said issues, assuming of course his little time travel theory panned out.
—
“Report.”
The voice was cold. Just like it always was and just like it always would be. Arcee did her best not to let it get to her.
She nonetheless shivered slightly as a clawed digit attached to a long, blackened arm ever so gently trailed along the horrifically dented part of her face plate, burning red optics staring down at her in bemusement.
“...I was heading over to one of the terminals to submit the latest energon survey report. The usual deal-”
The femme grit her denta slightly as her superior turned his servo, the digit now beginning to painfully press into the damaged section of metal just below her optic.
“G-getting to the point. He was in there, poking around. Pure luck that I ran into him. F-figured it was Yellowjacket at first. Same build, same frame. But the…paint job was off. Similar pattern, but the yellow was brighter. His optics were blue as well, real bright looking. If it’s another Makeshift, this one is definitely the lesser spy of the pair.”
Nemesis Prime visibly considered the information for a moment, optics mercifully trailing away from her form to glance up at the ceiling.
“Lesser, and yet this one managed to escape. A shapeshifter. Or a botched attempt at cloning, perhaps. Shockwave is permanently offline, but…it wouldn’t surprise me to see the Decepticons trying to continue some of his work, regardless of his state of being. Intriguing.”
Nodding along with the insane mech’s musings, Arcee did her level best to lean back from the sharp digit without making it obvious.
“Yeah. A-anyway, I figured him out, sent out the call and engaged. He was good though, maybe even as good as Yellowjacket is.”
She carefully ignored the near silent adjustment of posture from the figure hiding in the darkest corner of the medical bay, blank optics watching her with all the interest the spymaster ever showed in anything.
That being far, far too much of course.
“Troubling. And then he disabled you?”
…Her first thought was to curse the tyrant out, before the inherent understanding that such a thing would lead to terrible things for her continued health stopped her.
Her second thought was to admire the way the scrappy black and yellow mech had mercilessly pummeled her, after deflecting all of her own attacks with almost infuriating ease. A shame it had ended so quickly, considering just how much even the mere memory of it got her engine revving.
In the end, it was her third, and far more reasonable thought that won out, prompting the cyclebot to actually answer her ‘lord and master.’
“And then he knocked me offline with a sucker punch, yeah.”
The Prime seemingly reflected on that for a long moment, even as the disturbing sound of Ratchet cheerfully humming to himself and sorting through various tools filled the air from somewhere behind her.
“Very well. This…was a failure. We will need to increase patrols in the event our coordinates have been exposed.”
She took a sharp, pained intake of air as the mech leaned forward, digit now pressing into the very edges of her optic, a small smile twisting his expression into something far too serene, considering the situation.
“You will make up for it. Ratchet will see to your repairs. Afterwards, you will rally a squad of troopers. You will find this impostor. And you will bring him back.”
The medic in question let out an amused huff at that, white and purple frame casually sliding into view from her other side as he hefted some kind of device.
“Oh, do allow me a chance to inspect the subject upon retrieval. It’s been eons since I’ve gotten to dissect a clone. Well, assuming he is one, anyway.”
A repurposed torture tool, no doubt, judging by the way he spent just a little too long fiddling with it before Nemesis leaned back, allowing him access to her face plate.
“In time, old friend. In time.”
Arcee kept still, and more importantly, kept quiet as a horrific sizzling sensation began to sketch across the side of her helm, even as her mind ranted and raged against the two mechs standing above her.
“Hmph. Very well. Now hold still Arcee, this won’t hurt a bit.”
She’d find that damned copy. She’d hunt him down and rip his spark out. And then put it back in. And then probably rip it out again, so he could watch her do it a little more slowly. Maybe she’d even get a chance to play around with him after Ratchet was done taking him apart.
That’d be fun. A nice distraction from her usual games with Airachnid. Yes, this would be good for her.
…So long as she succeeded, of course. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if she didn’t.
—
Bumblebee wanted to grin behind his battle mask. He also wanted to swear violently.
The dumb time travel theory was starting to look more and more realistic, considering he’d meticulously followed a certain path he’d made note of a good while before his little bisection, transformed back into his root mode, and was now currently staring at the downed, but remarkably intact form of what could only be the Harbinger.
Or a section of it, anyway. He’d remembered its rough location back from when he and the others had occupied and eventually raided the downed Decepticon vessel for tech and supplies, and judging by the sight in front of him, the state of it was the same here, hidden as it was deep in the Nevada desert.
Letting out a low croon at his luck, the scout shook his helm and began to stalk forward, occasionally casting wary glances at his surroundings even as he quickly made his way up to where he recalled the transport’s entrance sat undisturbed, mostly covered in dust and sand as it was.
