Duct Tape

It was a night like many other Arcee has spent inside the safety of the Darby's home garage. June was kind enough to offer the alien robot full run of the garage as a protective sleeping place, while the beat up white family car remained outside in the driveway, standing firm against the elements.

Although grateful for the garage, though it was still far to small for her to fully stand up in, Arcee often found herself bored, as many do when recharge escapes them. Having grown curious of Jack's work bench, she decides to to whittle away time examining the primitive human tools. Keeping to one knee, the two wheeler flips into her biped form, blue and pink optics adjusting to the dark surroundings with ease. First, she look towards the door leading into the house proper, audios straining to pick up the smallest sound. Nothing but the soft hum of the air conditioner outside rang through the night.

Satisfied her gracious hostess and partner are sound asleep, she reaches out with one clawed servo to the work bench carefully picking up a wrench. Nothing to spectacular about this object, a metal handle to easily fit in a human palm, a small cog to widen or narrow the grip, Arcee quickly grows bored of it and softly returns it to the peg.

Next, she grabs a large ratchet with a mischievous smile. Jack had once asked if Ratchet's weapon was indeed a ratchet. The old medic may bot have used his tools for fighting but too often would he deliver a sharp smack with any such tool at close hand. Back and forth does Arcee flick the tool, odd for it to have a jointed handle she thought. Next she placed the head of the ratchet in her hand and gave it a slow twist. The tool suddenly clicks along its tracks and Arcee freezes. No other noise came, the humans must not have heard her. With unease she places the noisy tool back.

Her slender fingers then dance in front of the tools hanging higher on the wooden holding rack. Hammers she had seen plenty of, though the softer mallet with a head of rubber caught her interest. She takes the heavier tool and gently beats the mallet into her palm feeling the soft but heavy thud against her own rigid metal plating. For a moment Arcee muses, it was certainly heavy enough to cause harm to an organic but without a lot of force it was not much good on something of metal. What an odd thing. With a giggle she replaces the mallet and turns her attention to the drawers.

Three stood ready to be examined by the femme's curious mind, first she opens the left drawers. A near rhythmic thrum of metal rolling on wood erupts from the drawer as various nails, screws, and a few screwdrivers rattle forward. Again she pauses but once more relief washes over her. These humans really can sleep. Not willing to risk another noise, she keep the drawer open and moves to the right. This one slides open easily, inside was an archaic torture device. A vice grips, the screw of which, when tighten, would exert tremendous pressure on an object able to break it if enough was applied. Jack claimed it was for holding wooden boards steady, but Arcee has seen it used for crushing skulls and breaking framework. Cringing, she slides that drawer close shutting way the device.

At last, her vision turns to the center drawer of the old worn away work bench. The wood and metal work was well worn around each of the drawers, but this one more the the others. Something of great need to the humans must be kept in here. With the same caution as before she slides open the drawer. Its contents include a small plastic case half empty of small screws, plastic bags of mismatch parts, a black plastic bottle,  what appears to be burnt spark plugs sitting next to their neatly packaged newer twins, a roll of tape positioned on an odd device with a handle and teeth for cutting the tape, and a thick roll of a silvery unknown substance.

Cocking her head, Arcee reaches pass the screws and spark plugs and pick up the plastic bottle. As she move it, she feel its contents slosh about. It's label is a vivid yellow with a picture of a speedometer and the numbers five, seven, and three. Primus knows what those meant. Mostly worn away, Arcee was unable to make out what the label proclaimed its contents to be. Curiosity claims the slender robot and she carefully work off the small plastic cap. On the underside of the cap she spies a thick black liquid, a quick sniff and she knew the contents to be that of oil. Arcee's facial plates dawned a soft red from heat as she quickly closes the bottle and shuffles it away into the confides on the drawer.

Arcee softly clears her intakes and fans her face to remove the blush then places one finger against the tape holder. Another plastic tool, the humans loved to use plastic it seem. She lightly taps the tape's underside, becoming stuck for a brief moment but just as easily does it release her. Only good for the cardboard boxes of this world she decides.

Finally, her optics rest upon the silver round mass innocently sitting on it's side. Arcee lifts it from the drawer and hold it on two fingers, the mass shimming dully as the street lights caught it. What odd type of Earth thing was this? It must serve some practical purpose to be in Jack's work bench, and in the most used drawer.

With her free hand she rolls the mass around until her thumb crosses a torn edge sitting top the rest of the mass. Whatever it is had been layered onto the center cardboard. Using the sharper corners of her thumb, she loosens the sliver mass from its hold and catches the edge. It felt sticky, must be another kind of tape. Arcee shrugs and goes to place it back but the silver tape remains firmly fasten to her thumb.

She shakes her left hand trying to free but to no avail. Next she tries to tug it off with her right hand making more of the silver tape detach from the roll, perhaps she could work with this, or so she foolishly thought. Using the back side of her right hand, she pushes against the silver tape, freeing her thumb. She giggles in silent victory over the human object then goes to remove it from the back of her hand with her left palm.

But the tape holds fast, instead of releasing her, it holds to both her left palm and back of her right hand. Undaunted, Arcee pulls her right hand forward and up freeing it, but inadvertently sticks that section to the back of her left hand. Now he left hand was bound by the oddly strong silver tape, the center hanging onto the the separated length mockingly. "Alright then..." she whispers to the opposing object.

Next, she pulls back on the center with her right hand but still does it tightly grip her left and now her right palm. With a sudden jerk from the robot, the tape unwinds and swings to the back of her right hand securing it as well. Arcee looks at her now captured servos pausing to think. Then, moving what she can of her left hand, she grabs the center and pulls it down trying to rip the length from its center. Instead only more of the silver tape does unravel, elongating its trap.

With a growl, Arcee mutters, "Come on you." She begins tugging and pull the center body in each direction possible with either hand only worsening her situation. Soon both her hands become completely bound. Determined not to be outdone by such a simple and primitive tech, she steps on the length and tries to pull it free from her encased hands and wrist. Still only more of the trapping silver tape become unwound, determined like a hungry boa not to lose the prey.

"Scrap..." Arcee growls, the offending tape now stick to her foot grabbing the center the best she could then stretches out one leg in order to break it. Again it taunts her, unwinding more and securing to her leg on either side. Now it was becoming just plain uncomfortable to move. The tape made her joints stiffer, determined to hold everything in place as she tries to move against it. It was blocking the escape of heat from where she was bound, her hands becoming increasingly and uncomfortably warm.

"Scrap..." she softly mutters, now not only where her hands and wrist tied, but one leg as well. And the garage did not offer much room to work in without waking the Darby family. She tries pulling it at an angel across her body hoping to make a weak point. At last, all that was made was a crease and it ran up and across her torso from right hip to left shoulder, "You have to be joking..." she groans tossing the cardboard center over her shoulder. Moving the best she can, she tries to catch it on the edge of the table hoping to at the very least cut it.

As if mocking her, it continues to unroll and fasten to her back as she squirms. Silently does she pray it will give it and be torn before she is stuck in this embarrassing state for the night. Inch by inch does she arch over the table, one dorsal wing sliding along the wall. Heels digging into the concrete floor, her balance begins to waver until at last her left leg gives way.

A scream followed by a crash, she hits the floor toppling the table with her making a thunderous noise, "Scrap..." she groans curling back into herself

"Arcee!" The sound of running footsteps quickly reach the basement door. The old wooden structure is quickly thrown open revealing Jack, shirt less, wearing a pair of sweat pants, the light of the foyer behind him. He quickly turns on the garage light the shields his eyes from the sudden blinding light.

"Are you okay?" a worried female voice comes from behind Jack belonging to his mother June, wearing a thin nightgown and bath robe also shielding her eyes from the sudden light.

Arcee could feel her face heat up again in embarrassment, what a sight she must have been to them, a mighty Autobot foiled by some simple silver tape, "I... could use some help..." she shyly admits.

Jack blinks away the blindness, his eyes rest upon his partner, the once sleek blue two wheeler now lays on her side wrapped in silver, the teen can't help but laugh, "What.... what happened to you?!"

June covers her mouth to hide a laugh, "Found the duct tape I see."

"The what?" Arcee inquires, "Duct tape?"

The young teenage boy pulls himself together, "It's... it's very strong, very sticky silver tape. That you got wrapped up in." He chuckles more then moves to help her, "How did you manage this?"

"I though curiosity only harmed felines of this world," Arcee answers in disapproval, "Can you free me or not?"

"Sure, sure," Jack replies moving behind the toppled table and picking up a pocket knife. With care he first cuts away the center roll of duct tape ending any further increase to its attack and promptly places it back in the center drawer.

June steps forward and begins to peel the tape from Arcee's back rolling the tape back into itself so she won't get stuck, "The bane of Cybertroains on Earth. Duct tape!" The nurse giggles to herself getting only a groan from the embarrassed Autobot as she continues down Arcee's front to her leg.

Jack moves and carefully begins to saw through the tape binding the alien's hands together. Once separated he begins to unwind the silver mass from its chosen prey, "Do I want to know why you were playing with the duct tape."

"You promise not to tell the other?" she counters wishing this night adventure to remain secret.

"Promise," the youth replies.

Arcee hangs her head watching as the humans finish freeing her, "I... got bored. And never saw that stuff, duct tape?, back on Cybertron. Next thing I knew, I was like a prisoner."

Jack smirks and holds up his handful of now unusable duct tape, "Hmm, maybe I should give Ratchet some, in case you guys take any prisoners."

"Don't joke like that Jack," the older female promptly cuts in pointing one finger into her son's face. She was already nervous enough about this secret war, the last thing she needed was him to be any closer to  the enemy.

"Relax, June," Arcee reassures her flexing her freed fingers, "Optimus said himself we can't take prisoners. We have no way to hold them." She knew it was best to keep such things as that  a secert from the overprotective mother.