East Coast: City Rat in the Country

[Rattrap]

Rattrap is soggy, sitting on a log in the jungle – woods – whatever – keeping one optic peeled for his ride and the other on the little critters watching him suspiciously with their beady little eyes from the undergrowth. He itches and he has some green gunk all over his back. In fact, he's soggy because he tried rinsing the stuff off when he found a creek. He should've known it wouldn't work; baths never do – one of many things mining and spacing taught him – even with steel wool and a big guy handy to scrub your back. It's like the plants are all rooted into his plating or something, like they dug in where they ate through the metal.

He'd swear off veggies for the rest of his days, but spite tastes a lot better than the high ground.

"If I nevah meet another crazy chick, it'll be too soon," he grumbles, then yanks out a sprig caught between his thigh casing and femoral cap with a yelp and a hiss. "Ehh… least I don't hafta ask anybody ta pull it out for me." Wouldn't that be embarrassing? "Feh," and he tosses that chunk of greenery aside, then props his chin in one hand. "Coulda sworn bird-lady said she was 'on approach'." He looks up, squinting, to scan the upper reaches of the trees, looking for a falcon shape. Zilch. "Where's she on approach from?" demands the spy in a squalling screech that sends little animals ducking and covering. "The north pole?!"

[Airazor]

"Not quite," Airazor replies as she glides in.

//Here.// She also pings his comm. Just because someone hasn't reported seeing an alternate Airazor doesn't mean there isn't one.

She transforms and lands a couple paces from Rattrap. "You always find the best places, don't you?"

[Blackarachnia-3]

That's the thing about crazy chicks. Sometimes you can't help but run into them. Especially when you are the reason that they've gone crazy.

The two Maximals are hopefully too caught up in their own conversation to realize that there is something in the trees. Something that is approaching them.

[Rattrap]

"Yeah. I've got standards ta maintain," Rattrap answers Airazor without missing a beat, smirking. "You know how it is." He makes a show of standing and brushing off his thighs, then stretching. Is he stalling the return flight?

Well, yeah, kinda.

"Sounds like a mess out there," he snorts. Not that he didn't get a mess of his own back here. "S'one party I'm glad I missed."

[Airazor]

C'mon Rattrap, the air's fine!

"It seems to be still on-going, from what's being said on the comm links." Airazor tenses every so slightly as she seems to sense that something's changed, but there's nothing she can pinpoint it to and so doesn't mention it.

[Blackarachnia-3]

"YOU!!"

Blackarachnia, now close enough in the trees to her quarry, reveals herself by leaping out from in Black Widow mode, intent on knocking Rattrap onto his back and pinning him down.

Hell Hath No Fury, Rattrap.

Just in case Airazor assumes she's the wrong Predacon, she quickly transmits to allied frequencies. //It's me, Airazor.//

[Rattrap]

"Nothin' like an after-party," mutters Rattrap insincerely, shrugging and glancing skyward.

Just in time for a face full of spider. He curses and draws his blaster as he drops to roll and kick the screechy thing off; just because this spider happens to be female doesn't make it any more appealing to be under her. He isn't quick enough with the gun to keep his wrist from getting pinned, though.

"I knew it!" he hisses, scowling viciously up at Blackarachnia, halfway expecting her to pull a Tarantulas and hit him with some sort of venom. "I knew teaming up wit' 'Cons was a stupid idea!" Backstabbing slag-suckers, every last one of them. And Airazor was in on it?!

[Airazor]

"Wha-?" Airazor immediately turns at the sound of Blackarachnia's voice, automatically arming her wrist missiles before she connects the radio comment and realizes this is the ally-Blackarachnia.

Got it wrong, Rattrap. Airazor's just as clueless as you.

She doesn't retract her missiles, though. She's going to back up her teammate first, after all. "Hey, off of him! What are you doing?" Airazor reaches out with her unarmed hand, intending to pull Blackarachnia off of Rattrap if she can.

[Blackarachnia-3]

"Backstabbing-- YOU NEARLY BLEW ME UP!!" Usually so meek and subdued, Blackarachnia has taken a long time to build up the nerve to do this. She is wearing her hurt on her sleeves.

"Did you know how close I was when you set those bombs? Did you CARE!? I was sent there to save you because YOU requested help, and YOUR Rodimus told me to go. Is that how you show gratitude here? How you show trust? You blow someone up and you abandon them? WELL!?"

She pauses for a moment, as if she's getting a second wind to continue shouting. But as she opens her mouth (mandibles?) to start again, a pulse of light washes over the area. When it is gone, so is Blackarachnia, as if she was never there in the first place.

[Rattrap]

"I didn't ask fer no Pred!" Rattrap snaps right back in disgust. "I asked fer somebody qualified and if you can't get dat bulbous behind a' yours outta da way in time, dat?" He glares up at her, optics narrowed to bright slits. "Ain't. My. Problem."

And then the spider chick is gone, just like that, and Rattrap's blinking a bunch of technicolour spots out of his vision. He sits up, scowling, and glances toward Airazor, then back to the ground in front of him. His trigger finger twitches for a nano-klik before he stores his blaster and slowly climbs to his feet, brushing himself off.

"So much fer that wash," he mutters and pats leaf litter off the backs of his legs. He looks at Airazor again. "Fraggin' crazy Predacons."

[Airazor]

"Calm down!" And before Airazor can get further, there's a flash of light and Blackarachnia is gone.

''...Well, that was interesting." Interesting didn't begin to cover it. "What was she going on about?" Sorry Blackarachnia, but she's a bit more inclined to listen to Rattrap. Especially since he's not acting a bit crazed.

After giving Rattrap time to reply, she shakes her head and glances over at Rattrap. "Ready to get out of here?" She collapses back into beast mode in preparation for flight.

She could find a nice clean river to dunk you in, Rattrap. You know, if those bits of leaves are too much of a metaphorical pain.

[Rattrap]

"Ehh… it's a long story." And that's a lie, but Rattrap's sick of the whole business. Sick enough that he just reverts to rat mode and might not gripe – much – once they get in the air. "I'm just glad ta be rid of 'em," he adds sourly, muzzle wrinkled in a sneer.

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OOC: Ready to end it when you are.