Hours passed. I spent hours lying on that cold metal, feeling sleep wash over me in waves whenever I tried to keep my mind alert. No coffee was offered, only recycled air and an annoying buzz. If they were going to kidnap me, the least they could do was try harder. A decent cup of coffee wouldn't be too much to ask.
The man in front of me had a name or at least that's what they called him: Silas. It was a short, clearly fake name, like a player's team nickname. All that was missing were numbers to give it some charm.
From the few words I heard, he and his followers clung to a grandiose belief in technology saving everything: winning wars, reshaping nations, ruling the world, the same tired old speech. Ruling the world. What a ridiculous idea. I could already imagine the paperwork, the small problems multiplied by billions. This is why I never wanted to be responsible for anything on Cybertron: I left this headache to Prima and the other Primes.
What bothered me most was the cold, clinical ritual they were performing on me, which was becoming increasingly clear. It was irritating. I had already given up on using my powers. Whenever I tried to use them, the operator would press a button and inject me with sedatives to make me fall asleep. I hate the guy who presses that button. I hated this stupid weakness. I should be immune to poison or anything else they threw at me.
The ultimate irony is that when I needed her most, she was nowhere to be found. She, with her built-in radar that tracked signals like a cat's meow, had disappeared. How? I had been kidnapped, and she lost track of me and made a fool of me.
By Primus, she's *very* good at being stupid.
Silas approached with measured steps, his hands clasped behind his back, the rigid posture of a bishop awaiting his sermon. He looked at me like someone contemplating a vault full of treasures.
"So, Lux, how does it feel to know that you will be the cornerstone of humanity's new phase? The new beginning?" He spoke slowly, savoring each word as if each syllable could build empires.
"Fuck you. Terrorist organizations tend to crumble and self-destruct," I replied bluntly. "You, with all your supervillain clichés, will fall in the end. Either stupidly, or in a way that will make you wish you'd never been born." He laughed a dry, satisfied laugh, and I knew he understood the reference.
Silas smiled as if revealing a formula. "This isn't a movie script. This is real life. You are exactly what I've been looking for: the fusion of technology and biology. You are the point of convergence."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but there's nothing perfect about me," I retorted. "I have quirks, vices, fears. I'm a bundle of flaws like anyone else. Veneration like that won't get you anywhere."
His eyes hardened. There was more anger there than I'd expected, more conviction than caution. "You could have taken us further, Lux. The stars would have been within reach. But you stepped back, watched, and let humanity fend for itself. Now you're under my control. We'll elevate this race to its pinnacle and then expel every alien from this planet." The word "expel" dripped with venom.
"Expand to the stars and conquer the universe, blah, blah, blah. I've seen this script before," I said, rolling my eyes. He was a walking cliché, the type who memorizes speeches and delivers them with the fervor of a tech evangelist. "Realistically, you're not going to get far. You might pick up a trick or two, but what you really want is to integrate Cybertronian tech into human biology. In many ways, that alone would be enough to warrant therapy just for the idea."
"But it's not impossible. You managed it with the alien who follows you," Silas said, stepping closer with calm assurance.
"For your information, forcing a Cybertronian's cybernetic body to mimic a human form is far more plausible and logical than the reverse," I said firmly. "Turning a human into something cyberformed is like dosing them with thirty radiation bombs and hoping something sticks. It's a modern Frankenstein. It's unethical, completely outside the bounds of human rights. I'm saying this frankly because, even for me, it's absurd."
Silas raised a fist in the air, as if punctuating a doctrinal point. "You say that because you're tied to the old humanity. What I'm advocating for is a new humanity." There was conviction in those syllables, a cold gleam of belief in his eyes.
For a moment, I saw the dark, familiar edge of his rhetoric: the messianic tone, the oversimplification of everything for the sake of an ideal.
"Okay," I thought to myself. "This guy might just be worse than that lunatic from Germany." And, I'll admit, the image of Airachnid, that mischievous spider who vanishes at the worst times, flashed through my mind as a solution. If she showed up now, I swear I'd let her take out everyone. I'd make an exception.
"Look," I said, taking a deep breath, my voice low and measured by exhaustion. "When you've lived as long as I have, you realize how crucial it is to preserve individuality. Creating a perfect race is a foolish utopia; it ignores the uniqueness that makes a being who they are. Underestimating each person's singularity is the start of a war that'll turn against you. And more: trying to spread that across the galaxy is suicide. Don't think Cybertronians are the only race capable of expanding through the universe."
Silas took a step forward, invading the little space between us. "You may be right," he said, his tone a mix of challenge and promise. "But once I have your power and transfer it to myself, no one, absolutely no one, will stop me." He smiled as if revealing an inevitable secret and stepped back, letting the statement hang in the air.
"If I felt sorry for you, I'd wish you good luck. But I'd rather stick a pipe up your ass and twist it around your throat so you can smell your own stench," I replied with mockery and resentment. "Cracking the Cybertronian genome isn't some simple feat; it might well be impossible."
Then came the shock: he smiled faintly and said something that froze my blood. "That's where you're wrong, Mr. Lux. I've already cracked the genome."
A tablet appeared in his hand like a trump card, a screen projecting a diagram. I stared, incredulous. What I saw was an intricately designed map: sequences, annotations, patterns that echoed what I carried within me, though in a primitive, heavy-handed form. As much as I resisted, it was plausible.
"That's not possible. You… how did you do this?" My question was barely a whisper. There was astonishment, yes, what I was seeing was something humanity shouldn't be capable of, not with the current state of modern technology.
Silas explained with maniacal calm: "Alien encounters on our planet sometimes leave behind a trail of bodies and materials, remains that, with time and resources, can be dissected." He paused, letting the horror of the process sink in. "Sector 7 was an obstacle, but also a potential resource: some of its members were influenced by my vision. With Energon at our disposal, we can advance technological advancements by eons in years or decades. And with your body, Lux, I believe we will achieve the perfect blend: man and machine."
The air grew heavier, the low, incessant hum of the machines in the background pulsing in sync with the pulse in my temples. Things had taken a dangerous turn, far beyond anything I had ever imagined when I planned my supposed dream vacation.
Damn, all I wanted was a moment of peace, away from it all; it was even tolerable to live with the gothic spider by my side. It's asking a lot these days to have just one normal day.
If it weren't for these cursed drugs pumping through my veins, I would have broken free by now.
I tried to focus and force my mind to find a solution, but every thought slipped away like water through my hands. My head hung low and my eyes were heavy as I fought the drowsiness threatening to engulf me. "Focus," I told myself, but the drowsiness was as insistent as Airachnid's urge to do something stupid.
Without a doubt, this was one of the worst kidnappings of my life, and I assure you, I've experienced more enjoyable ones in the past. Silas wasn't just a danger to me; he was a danger to something much greater, perhaps even humanity itself, with his dark plans. I needed to act before he turned this mess into something irreparable.
Then the atmosphere shifted. One of Silas's soldiers, clad in gleaming armor and moving with precision, approached him. The leader, his face impassive, looked up, waiting. The soldier spoke, his voice muffled by his helmet but clear enough for me to hear: Trouble at the warehouse. Sabotage. The word cut through the air like a blade, and Silas's eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and determination.
"Sabotage?" he repeated, his deep voice thick with disdain. "Must be some spy from Sector 7 or something. I'll handle it myself."
With one fluid movement, he grabbed his holstered weapon, the metal gleaming in the dim light. Without hesitation, he gestured for a few soldiers to follow him, their boots echoing on the concrete floor as they headed toward the warehouse. There was something almost theatrical about the way Silas moved, a man who believed that if there was a problem, he would have to solve it himself. Maybe it was a compulsive need for control. And for a brief moment, I saw an opportunity. If he were distracted, maybe I could...
But then I felt it again, that cold sensation, like poison coursing through my veins. I glanced at the operator, who was staring at me through that sinister mask, adjusting the controls on the machine beside me. He increased the dosage, and the liquid dripped faster through the tube connected to that damned chair.
"Son of a bitch," I thought as exhaustion intensified, pulling me into an abyss of sleep.
As my vision began to blur, something caught my eye. Amidst the sea of identical armor, a figure stood out. It wasn't just the silhouette, but the way she moved, stealthy, almost feline, gliding among the soldiers with a grace that contrasted with the brutal surroundings.
Most of Silas's henchmen were men, and their bulky armor hid any trace of individuality. But this figure... there was something different. Pronounced curves, even beneath the armor, that couldn't be disguised. It was her. The damned gothic spider. My heart raced, a mixture of relief and irritation. What the hell took her so long?
"No way..." I muttered to myself, my voice hoarse and weak, almost swallowed by the weight of sleep. "She really did take the hardest possible route... stupid, then complains when I tell her so directly."
She moved like a shadow, avoiding the soldiers' gazes with a skill that bordered on the impossible, considering the... exuberance of her figure. Every step was calculated, every movement a silent dance. I watched, mesmerized, as she approached the operator.
And then, with a precision that almost made me laugh despite the situation, she delivered a swift blow to the man's neck. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and without hesitation, she dragged him into a dark corner where no one seemed to notice.
She turned to me, her purple eyes glowing behind her visor. With a quick gesture, she signaled something, perhaps a plea for patience, perhaps a promise that we would be out of there soon. If I had the strength to move my arms, I would have made an obscene gesture at her, accompanied by a torrent of curses.
*You took too long, Airachnid. Too long.* Sleep was weighing me down. All I could manage was a look mingling indignation and exhaustion. She was my chance to escape: my gothic spider. Despite everything, I knew she wouldn't let me down. I lied. I was sure she was doing this on purpose to annoy me. I'm going to ban her from eating her favorite foods for twenty-four hours, long enough for her to have a nervous breakdown and despair.
"Seriously, how did it take her so long to find me? That idiot can teleport, damn it, I'm going to judge her so much when this is over."