- Motto: "If the ends justify the means, then life is just about as meaningless to you than the cause you think so highly of."
- Weapon: Rapid-Fire Sonic Shell Cannons
Gulf of Mexico -- Oil Rig
The rush of battle. If "battle" meant "slaughter", it would have made a bit more sense. He had been waiting for so long that it felt like an eternity. The ache of his servos felt a bit rusty, but he wasn't about to complain. This is what he lived for -- or, at least, what he thought he lived for. He wasn't so sure what he wanted to do, but he did know that he didn't want to get scrapped again.
With a whirl of servos and green metal plates, a giant wasp appeared from where a minuscule one once resided. Hovering above a swarm of terrified human workers, its giant wings fluttered and buzzed, letting loose a windstorm gusting down around the workers, sand from the deck being blown upward like a sandstorm. Some sought shelter in control areas, whereas others tried to brace themselves by standing firm, but were blown over to the point of even having their hardhats blown off.
"The thing's huge!" one cried, shielding himself from the wind, "And that whining buzz is killin' my ears!"
"They're dead! They're both dead! There's a couple of giant flippin' robots down on the docks, Tom! Jack and Butch are both dead! Something tells me that thing is with 'em! You need to get out of-" another worker shouted as he ran up to his compatriots.
But he never made it. Suddenly, a giant stinger fell from the sky and the striped abdomen that followed sped forward and thrusted itself into the chest of the man, mid-step. Blood bubbled from his mouth as he was cut short, and he grew pale immediately as the acidic venom ate through his internal organs. Death came quickly, but not painlessly.
Waspinator hissed as he soared upward, dropping the limp body into the sea below. The whir of a motor caught Waspinator's audio receptors. Using his large, blue compound eyes, he saw a large metal beam swinging as a crane spun, clearly with the intent to slam into him. The insecticon seethed with anger. It was one thing for a Transformer to try to beat on him, but a human? Someone so beneath them, and yet so ignorant that they had the nerve to attack them? Just who did they think they were?
Perhaps it wasn't anything to do with ignorance, though. Perhaps it was bravery. But that didn't matter to Waspinator. He wasn't about to go into philosophical debates with a crummy human, and that was a fact (not that he was altogether sure he could).
Darting forward, Waspinator transformed in a whirl of metallic plates, changing into his robot form, wings still fluttering and hovering above the deck of the rig. As the beam swung toward him, he turned with a sudden flair of confidence and let out a vicious kick at the steel girder. As the transformer's foot slammed into the steel surface, it bent backward and spun around on the tip of the chain, the web of bars the crane was made up of were wrapped over and over, rocking it violently. After the girder came to a jarring stop as it ran out of chain, Waspinator unholstered his weapon and raised it forward, optics bearing down the barrel.
The glare of the glass from the control room was burning his optics, but that didn't matter. He was ticked off, and whoever this was was, the human was the target of his rage. With a squeeze of his finger, a harpoon shot from the tip of his pistol and sped forward, piercing the glass with a thundering crash, bombarding the area with a shower of glass shards, some speckled with droplets of crimson, metallic blood from the occupant. Waspinator didn't care if he died or not. The poison would kill him soon.
But enough distractions.
"Decepticonzz!" Waspinator hollered to Octane and Astrotrain, "Letzz get to buzzinezz!"
Fluttering down onto deck, the insecticon promptly handed his Energon Cube Dispenser to Octane before turning to fire another harpoon at a group of fleeing workers. He'd have to clean up his harpoons afterward, but it didn't take away from their effectiveness.