Blackarachnia felt her valve pump wildly in her chassis as she was lifted up by Rhinox's medical platform. She stood there suspended above her Maximal comrades, looking up at her like she was some poor lamb to slaughter. She wanted to sneer at them, wanted to say something cruel and heartless just to wipe those pitying looks off their faces; it's not as if the actually cared or anything. Well, Silverbolt did, but he was different. He wasn't like the others. He was kind and loyal and sweet and stupid, and Blackarachnia will never say that she loved him but then again she didn't dislike him either. Blackarachnia focused on him for just a moment, but the naked fear etched across his features forced her to look away. It was pathetic and it made something hurt deep within her chest plate. "See you soon, boys," she quipped, nearly choking on the off-hand remark. "If you're lucky."
Because despite what Optimus said it wouldn't be her greeting them when this whole thing was over. It would be someone else, someone Maximal. Blackarachnia wondered what she was like as she slipped into stasis.
As a sparkling, Synergy never really understood the differences between "mechs" and "femmes." Oh, she could rattle off the statistics with the best of them: Femmes made up 10% of the Maximal population, they were originally created to perform certain tasks such as cleaning and serving, they were, on average, at least a foot shorter than the average Maximal and were defined by their tapered waists, large hip bolts, and angled chest plates. But none of that told her what a femme was. Other than the minor differences in their structures, they were exactly same as mechs. So what was her purpose? Why did bots prefer femmes be the ones serving them energon at restaurants instead of mechs? Why did bots react strangely when confronted with a masculine femme and a feminine mech? A femme was just as strong as a mech, so why did mechs think they had to protect and care for them? They weren't like organics. It didn't make any sense. But no one questioned it. They had always acted this way, at least as far back as they could remember. Their past and history before the Great War had long been shadowed in mystery and no one was willing to find out the truth. Or, if they were, they were quickly silenced.
It wasn't until her very first date that Synergy finally understood the difference. The bot's name was Blue Falcon and he had shyly asked her if she wanted to see a human film with him at the Museum of Cybertron. Of course she jumped at the chance. Not because of him - she couldn't have cared less about the mech - but because it was a human film. Ever since the Great War, Earth had been listed as a "No Contact" planet. It was forbidden to visit the planet and no information was to be exchanged between their peoples. What little pieces of human culture that had managed to make its way to Cybertron during the war years was treasured like a sacred artifact. The humans just seemed so… cool. Every young bot wanted to be like them.
The event had been sold out within the hour and Synergy had been surprised that Blue Falcon had managed to get a hold of two tickets. It must have cost him an obscene amount of credits. Synergy could pretend to like him, if it meant seeing the film.
She watched as a human female slithered across the screen in black and white, flipping her hair and shimmying her hips. "Put the blame on Mame, boys, put the blame on Mame!" She sang as she pulled one long, satin glove off of her arm. She smiled flirtatiously and moved to the beat, all the while threatening to take off the rest of her clothing. Synergy thought that even if she went through with her dare, it would matter. She would only be nude; it was the human males that would truly naked. They gave themselves freely to her: to be used or abused, whatever she wanted they would give her.
She had learned about basic human and organic biology. She knew about male and female, about sexual intercourse, from a purely scientific view but she didn't truly understand. Cybertronians didn't operate like that. They didn't have to interface to create a spark the way a human had to have sex to create another human. Interfacing was all plugs and wires, about fun and boredom and a nice way to pass the time. Sparking was private and painful and it literally split one's spark in half. One had nothing to do with the other. Humans were too messy; everything was mixed up altogether, nothing separate. They needed each other in a way Cybertronians didn't.
She saw that need for what it truly was: power. The human males didn't just want her, they didn't think to themselves, "She seems like an interesting person. I would like to get to know her more." No, to them she represented something much more basic, more primal. She was their salvation, the continuation of their species and she never once let them forget it. She lorded it over them, dangling it like a carrot. She made them need her. Synergy wanted that power for herself.
Cybertronians preferred straight lines and hard angles. To them, the most beautiful thing in the universe was a perfect square, but watching that film Synergy could see the appeal of circles.
Synergy possessed a brilliant technical processor and had an aptitude for creating new and interesting upgrades for Cybertronian bodies. She was on the fast track to becoming a well-respected researcher worthy of the Center of Research and Development of Cybertron, the planet's preeminent scientific facility. That meant nothing to her, however. Let other bots be content with a mere middling job as some poor researcher, slaving away for others and taking none of the credit for themselves. No, Synergy was going to be Head Director someday.
She just needed to get her ped in the door first.
There was an internship available at the Center and of course she had gotten an interview. There was a problem, however: only one position was available and she would literally be going against hundreds of applicants. She wasn't worried about most of them- ambitionless, gray-faced bots that they were. Her main concern was Vesper. Vesper, who was brought online with his mouth glued to some bot's aft. Vesper, who made it a point to score higher than her in every single class.
He's good, she mused as she bent over her work, carefully soldering the metal plates together, but she had something he didn't. Synergy carefully lifted up the chassis and studied it; it was delicate work and needed a soft hand, but she was positive that her seams were flawless. Not a hard edge in sight, only planes of smooth, rounded metal.
She would prove to the committee that she deserved that spot by doing something that no bot had ever done before.
Synergy could hear the whispers follow her as she walked down the hall. Is that a new model, they asked. How obscene, they hissed. Synergy smiled to herself; she couldn't have asked for a better reaction.
She approached the interview room, ignoring the rows of students all anxiously awaiting their turn, and let the door slide open for her. Five mechs were sitting around a table and grilling poor Vesper, but their questions petered off into silence the moment she walked in. They couldn't tear their optics away from her new body, the shock apparent on their faces. There was a reason why bots didn't just change bodies every time they had worn theirs out and were on the verge of death: it was an extremely difficult procedure that caused immense pain to the spark. It was not uncommon for such operations to prove fatal. Synergy had spent weeks perfecting a new upgrade that would allow her to refit her body with a new armor piece by piece. It was an amazing feat of technical skill, although she suspected her genius wasn't the cause behind the silence.
For the first time in Cybertronian history, Synergy had created a structure that was not based on lines or squares or triangles, but instead on curves and circles. Her body had a flow that was almost organic in nature with a chassis that emulated the full breasts of human females. She had, in her humble opinion, created a masterpiece of art. Of course the old conservatives who were always bemoaning the influence of human culture on Cybertronian youth would never be able to appreciate it, but she didn't need them to.
Her new form was all for her.
"Oh! I'm sorry," she said in a voice that dripped with false sincerity. "Someone told me that it was my turn. My mistake." She turned and left, letting the door slide shut behind her before taking a seat. She grinned maliciously; no matter what Vesper said now, all that the interviewers would be thinking of was her.
It didn't take more than five clicks before Vesper was storming out, his face twisted in pure anger. He stood in front of her, nearly shaking with rage. Synergy smiled sweetly up at him and modestly crossed her legs. "I know that's you, Synergy. Only you would sink so low in an attempt to gain the upper servo. You think they're going to hire you because of that body?" He spat out. "You just made a complete fool of yourself. They're not going to hire someone so… indecent."
Synergy casually inspected her digits, not even bothering to look up at the mech. "Really? You think so? Even if that were true they're certainly not going to give the position to you. Not now, anyway. I bet they can't even remember your name. How long were you in there with them? Your interview was much shorter than the rest of the bots here. They probably weren't even bothering to pay attention. Gee, I hope it wasn't me that distracted them."
Vesper stood there looking for all the world like he wanted to punch her in the face. She grinned, nearly begging him with her optics to try it.
"That's me," Synergy remarked as she stood up. "Wish me luck!" She sauntered through the door, throwing Vesper a wink over her shoulder as she entered the interview room. It was a little intimidating: there was just a chair in that little room with five hard-faced mechs staring down at her. She slunk into the chair with all the catlike grace her new body afforded her and waited for them to say something.
Finally one of them cleared his vocalize awkwardly. "Your name is Synergy, correct?" He asked. He was a large mech and painted white, gray, and blue. She thought he had a nice, kind face. "How did you come by such an… unusual… structure?"
"Well, I was given a standard Femme Unit #3 with Car Alt Mode when I was sparked, but I've developed a program that would allow me to refit my structure with new armor easily and painlessly." If there was pride in her voice then no one could blame her. She was good.
The mech nodded his head, clearly impressed. The others seemed intrigued as well, with the exception of the one in the middle. He was a red and black bot, older than the others, and hard-looking. "Why did you design your armor to look like that?" The red-and-black bot demanded.
"I liked the way it looked. Don't you?" She nearly purred.
"No." The mech's voice was flat and hard.
"She clearly displays a talent in structure engineering," the white bot pointed out.
"That form is obscene," The red bot stressed. "I'm the Director of the Center and I will not have my facility… perverted by her form. All researchers must maintain a respectable appearance and prove ethical in their conduct."
"Now, her form might be a bit scandalous, but I hardly think it's unethical," one of the other bots protested. "She's got a sharp processor. We're always looking for raw talent."
The Director shook his head and fixed her with a cold stare. "We will discuss your application and inform you in due time."
Synergy nodded and rose from her chair. She wondered if she had made a mistake. Still, she wasn't going to let the other bots know what she was thinking. She held her head high and sauntered out of the room, swaying her hips with every step in a defiant gesture.