For 'Boots. Blackarachnia took the cover off the vent with the flick of a claw; the opening easily dwarfed her. The ventilation system would be a highway for the human-sized Predacon where almost any other Cybertronian of this era would have found a tight squeeze. No one would be able to catch her.
"Now listen, this is important," she announced, turning to address her partner. "You're a human; the Autobots will trust you a lot quicker than they will me. I want you to clue them in, get them ready. Repair only as necessary, keep your twitchy fingers off anything cosmetic, the last thing we need is some 'Con noticing their slave in better shape than he should be. And for Pit's sake don't let the 'Cons see you!"
"I'll be careful, I promise," Marissa promised her. Apparently, now that she was done bitching to high heaven about being thrust into the 'hero' role by a cruel and uncaring timestream, Blackarachnia was all business. "What will you be doing?"
Blackarachnia smirked. "I'm going to be the bug in their system. Give me three megacycles and every system they have will belong to me." She shivered delightedly at the promise of all that power, and Marissa couldn't help but grin. The Decepticons may be big and powerful, but they'll never know what hit them.
"Hey," she called as Blackarachnia turned to enter the vent.
"What?" Blackarachnia demanded.
"Know what they call this on Earth?"
Blackarachnia craned her head back to frown at her, impatient. "What?"
Marissa grinned at her. "Stickin' it to the man."
The frown melted into a pleased chuckle. "I like that." She disappeared into the ventilation system; Marissa turned away to begin her own mission.