You’ve spent years avoiding her—that Decepticon, Airachnid. Always lurking, always watching, always waiting. You knew she’d return eventually, but not now. Not when you’re on a quiet patrol, convinced that you're alone.

Then, a voice speaks, smooth as silk, laced with venom.

"How adorable."

Your spark clenches. The shadows feel heavier. The air feels colder.

She’s close. Too close.

She’s there, her optics glinting with something between amusement and menace. A smirk plays on her faceplate, as if she’s savoring the tension, the way your servos twitch, the way your vents hitch.

"Did you miss me?"