Tomb Spyder
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Buzzkill. LOG-002.
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 17:21:28 +0000 UTCBuzzkill.
LOG-002.
“Arcee?”
The singular piece of Cybertronian morse code escaped his makeshift vocoder before he could think to stop himself, the femme almost seeming to flinch at the two toned beep.
“What…no.”
She shook her helm, servos already receding into her arms to be replaced with a pair of particularly vicious looking blades as she began to advance towards him.
Were…were those serrated-
Bumblebee had less than half a second to hastily bring up an arm, letting his thicker armour halt the attempted downward blow as the dark mirror scowled at him.
“You’re not Yellowjacket.”
And she wasn’t Arcee, evidently. But he didn’t have the time, ability, or inclination to truly say that, considering those sharpened pieces of metal were swinging around to slice his helm clean off!
Clang! Clang! Clang!
One hit after another, each carefully (and just barely) blocked before it could hit him. He’d sparred with Arcee before. The femme was methodical. Well trained. A paragon of discipline, control and precision.
This bot fought like a savage, cleaving strikes shaking his arms in spite of their significant size difference.
“Arcee to all surrounding units! We have a-”
Optics wide, Bumblebee lashed out with a punch, his clenched fist slamming into the side of his opponent’s helm in between a particularly overextended assault.
Suffice to say, evil Arcee went flying to the side, shoulder slamming roughly into the wall next to her, red optics turning to try and stare at the crumpled half of her face plate in shock, right before what he assumed was her processor finally gave out in response to the damage, likely enacting an emergency shut down in order to focus on preserving itself.
The scout didn’t stop to stare as the cyclebot’s optics went dark, her form slumping to the ground. She’d live, so long as she received appropriate medical care.
…Which wasn’t something he could say would be given to him, considering the second he rushed past her and out of the doorway, he was met with those same two Vehicons from earlier, their blasters drawn and aimed in his direction.
Bumblebee prepared to bring up his own blasters, only to pause as the two immediately lowered their weapons, one even going so far as to bring their servo up to their chest plate in a salute.
“Sir! We heard suspicious activity over the comms, what are your orders?”
Staring at the duo, the Autobot carefully didn’t glance back at the knocked out femme to his right side, and instead gestured down the corridor behind him, flicking his helm in the same direction.
“Yes sir! We’ll find the intruder!”
Silently watching as the two rushed toward and eventually past him, Bee carefully kept quiet (not exactly hard to do, naturally) right up until they turned a corner, before all but sprinting in the opposite direction.
He needed to get out of here, and fast, judging by the alerted exclamations currently sounding out all across what he recognised to be the local Autobot comms network as more and more soldiers began to respond to Arcee’s call.
—
“This is Autotrooper One One Seven, we’ve circled back around, commander Arcee is down, Yellowjacket is currently searching opposite of us. Gonna want to call in the Hatchet.”
Having access to this lot’s comm codes was really helpful, even if the constant chatter of the ‘Autotroopers’ was more than a little distracting as Bumblebee steadily manoeuvred his way past patrols and security checkpoints, slowly but surely making his way back towards the exit.
He was in the middle of making a quick detour into what he vaguely remembered to be an energon storage area when said chatter promptly went silent, a new comm ID entering the network, followed by a voice that almost made the scout freeze in place.
“That isn’t Yellowjacket. He is currently with me.”
It was cold. The normal comforting warmth that should have been there nowhere to be found, something almost sickeningly sweet present instead. The usual selfless authority was replaced with something darker. A calculating, controlling edge that demanded absolute subservience, rather than the inspiring baritone he was used to.
“S-scrap! I mean-yes Lord Prime! We’ll find the impostor at once!”
It sounded like Optimus.
It sounded nothing like Optimus.
Those two clashing thoughts continued to occupy a part of Bumblebee’s processor, even as he snatched several energon cubes into his subspace before shifting into his alt mode and peeling out of the storage area, racing towards and then through a trio of surprised Autotroopers, sending all three of them scattering in different directions with strangles curses as he roared past them.
“We’ve found him! H-he’s heading for the primary exit!”
Scrap.
—
“Slow down Con! I just wanna talk to ya!”
He never thought he’d find himself actively running from Bulkhead of all people. And yet he was, the dark blue Wrecker firing at him with burning red optics narrowed in irritation, an enraged snarl on his face plate.
“You’re gonna be a pile of bolts and wires by the time the Hatchet gets you on his table you piece of scrap!”
But Wrecker or not, the startling mirror wasn’t exactly hitting any real shots, considering the rapidly expanding distance between them, which only seemed to serve in enraging him further.
Well, save for the single blast that damn near scorched one of his rear axles as he drifted around the final corner, shifting into root mode just long enough to slug an unprepared Autotrooper directly in their masked faceplate before rolling back into alt mode, his engine roaring as he all but shot out of the tunnel he’d entered the Ark from.
“Slag it! Impostor’s made it out the main exit! Tell me we’ve got someone out there waiting for em!”
“We do not.”
Nemesis’ dispassionate statement earned a furious roar from Bulkhead, followed by orders for security to hunt him down.
Orders that wouldn’t be completed, fortunately, considering he’d already made enough distance to the point that the mass of rock and stone the Ark had apparently been buried in was becoming little more than a distant blip on the horizon.
Regardless of the distance, Bumblebee didn’t let the illusion of safety slow him down, pouring on even more speed as he screamed down the dusty road he’d practically thrown himself onto, hastily working to shut down his own comm signature.
Whether these ‘dark’ Autobots would figure out his little trick, he wasn’t sure, but he most definitely wasn’t keen on finding out.
