The room fell quiet the instant that Perceptor's frame came to a screeching halt save for the soft pants coming from the scientist. Pain fogged his sensory grids as he drew himself up on his forearms. His vision was obscured and it didn't help that the dusty cargo bay, which he and Drift were currently occupying was so awfully dark and dim. Even now, Drift's form, shining and white, seemed to meld into the dark. Azure optics stared intently upon him and Perceptor could only wipe away at the mech blood that was dripping down his lip.

"Get up," came Drift's voice, cold, harsh and unfeeling.

Wincing, Perceptor did just that, lifting himself off of the dusty floor that showed more than a few mars on its dusty surface, mars that were red, white and black. The scientist's frame hurt all over, as it it had the day before and the day before that even even the week and the previous before it. The warrior mech who was slowly circling around him must've been truly determined to make something respectable of him.

The stuttering had been nearly eradicated from Perceptor's form of speech, and he was doing much better at holding optic contact. Still, he slipped up time and time again, so Drift had thought it be wise that to teach the mech a skill he could truly be proud of. In short, Drift was going to teach Perceptor, who couldn't stand his own with a minibot, how to defend himself. It had gone just as Perceptor had believed it would. That was to say, absolutely miserably. Drift had decided at an early start for a private venue, hence their being at that horribly lit cargo bay on the Xantium.

"Take your stance," Drift commanded.

Slowly, Perceptor dropped his hips, lowering his frame, widening the distance between his pedes while he drew his arms up into a comfortable but ready position. Perceptor was sure he'd need an overhaul soon, everything was always so sore, but Drift had made him deal with it. When others had asked, Perceptor had been truthful in that Drift was teaching him hand to hand combat.

Of course, those who asked, whether it be Blurr, Kup, Hotrod or any one of the rest of the Wreckers, they always laughed at the mere thought.

Perceptor didn't know why, but such a response made him angry.

It made him resolute to learn at least something from Drift in defending himself.

Not only did Drift want to make him into something respectable, but Perceptor wanted to be something respectable. . . .

***

"Again," boomed Drift, circling the fallen Perceptor who was picking himself off the floor that was now half covered with Perceptor's paint.

Another week, but this one hadn't been a complete failure, Perceptor thought as he forced himself up. Pain throbbed over his sensory grids but his muscle cables were getting stronger, he was faster, he was getting better. While he was still absolutely nothing in comparison to Drift, there was something empowering about some change, some betterment in him. Standing, the scientist faced Drift while taking a stance, not needing to be prompted by the swordsmech for such a thing.

"Strike me, or try," came Drift's voice, callous this round. "Try not to fall over when you do," Drift added.

Pursing his lips, Perceptor felt a wave of frustration over him and he lunged forward, finding his footing far more confident than what it had been before.

Yet not confident enough, Perceptor soon found out as Drift had easily sidestepped him before delivering a sharp kick to his backstrut. Pain spidered through out his frame, disrupting every motivator grid in his systems and sending him crashing to the ground.

"Did you not hear me? I told you not to fall over; you are absolutely hopeless," Drift murmured as he stepped away from the pile of metal that was Perceptor's form.

"Get up, and try again, or is that beyond your ability too?"

Looking up, Perceptor actually found himself glaring at Drift as he drew his aching form up. The scientist thought he would surely receive some form of rebuke for such a thing but he swore he saw the swordsmech smirk instead. . .

***

There were always distractions from the pain that Perceptor incurred in his training sessions. Drift had become his source of everything, his pain, his pleasure, his will. A throaty moan tore through his vocalizer as the swordsmech gave a powerful thrust into his so wet valve. His hands grasped tightly upon Drift's shoulders as he bucked his hips into Drift's primal movements. Perceptor was addicted to the pain and the pleasure both and he couldn't help but toss his helm back and cry out in sheer ecstacy.

"Deadlock!" the scientist screamed, knowing how much the gleaming, seemingly chivalrous mech loved being called by his old designation, but only in the throes of passion. Such a cry caused Drift to thrust even harder into Perceptor which only sent more pleasure surging through his sensory grids. It was electrifying, t was intense and Perceptor only wanted more as static broke from his vocalizer.

Such a fevered pace could not hold up for too long and Perceptor realized that it must've been their fourth or fifth round for the evening. Mewling in pleasure, Perceptor's valve pulled tight around Drift's intruding spike. Perceptor's overload only caused Drift's. The feel of transmetal fluid was both comforting and stinging. Comforting in the warmth, and stinging from the use of his valve that night so far.

Yet even Drift had limits sometimes, Perceptor realized as the quaking swordsmech collapsed atop him, panting while his vents whirred and whined. Energy crackled over both their frames while the pops and pings of heated metal were all too audible. Steam rose up and condensation formed.

"Well, you're least getting better on the berth," Drift purred contently, nuzzling an audio receptor of Perceptor's in a rare show of affection.

Perceptor chose not to respond only looked up at the ceiling. Such a response elicited a chuckle from Drift who was always more mellow after his second overload.

"I've decided I need to ramp up you training. . ." Drift commented.

"What do you mean?"

A smile unfolded upon Drift's lips, clearly pleased that his toy was becoming less and less of a stammering fool. "Well, you're going to talk to Kup," Drift said while he sat up atop Perceptor's lap. Still smiling he swirled a clawed digit over Perceptor's chest plate, making flowing little shapes in the condensation that had formed at the closeness of their two super heated frames.

"And?" asked Perceptor, optics flicking to Drift, finding the mech still as beautiful and exotic since he had first lain optics on him.

"You're going to tell him that there's a planet in a nearby system you want to check out with me as your escort. Make something up. . . But two weeks, you and me, no one to distract us, and all training. . ." Drift mused thoughtfully.

***

Surely his digits were bleeding, but Perceptor didn't have the time to think about that as he hauled himself up a rock face. Oh Perceptor had believed he had known what pain was when he had been in that cargo hold. Now the scientist sincerely wished for that room back. The pain he knew now surely was a thousand times greater. Every muscle cable in his frame felt like it would tear at any moment but Drift pushed him harder and harder. Drawing himself up while panting, Perceptor stood, padding weakly over to Drift who was surveying the area with sharp optics.

The planet that Perceptor had picked was sub organic, though most of the surface was permeated by eons old volcanic rock. It was course under the hand and pede, mottled with little tiny holes from minuscule air bubbles trapped in lava millennia ago. Had Perceptor been allowed to be a scientist, he truly would've been fascinated but Drift gave him hardly the chance to even glance for a moment at the strange flora that pushed out from the out croppings of stone. While the rock held almost a violet hue, the plants were blue green in color, almost matching the atmosphere above. Even lovelier were the large fields of crystals that could be found. So far, they had encountered no fauna, much to Perceptor's delight and much to Drift's disappointment.

Drift sood silent as his optics continued their survey. It was then that Perceptor took in his soundings in full detail. Above, green clouds, thin and whispy rolled overhead. There was little wind, but what little there was, whistled through hollow and fluted rocks. In the distance, Perceptor could see ancient lava flumes, half weathered away, still rising into the air. The planet had an eerie quality to it, but it was somehow peaceful at the same time.

"Come," came Drift's voice, annoyed, and Perceptor had found that he had become distracted. Before he had a chance to say anything to Drift in apology, the warrior was once again on the move, darting over the landscape with such ease that Perceptor was instantly envious. Following Drift, or rather lagging behind, Perceptor ignored the world around him, instead focusing only on keeping up with Drift. Here they could actually work on his stamina, instead of being scrunched in a very confining storage bay.

At least the air was marginally cool so that his systems didn't get too heated by the run, still, Perceptor's intakes heaved with every step over that landscape. It was rough, uneven, up and down, and Perceptor saw himself floundering while he saw Drift absolutely thriving. It was as if the swordsmech had been freed and was running for one of the first times. Azure optics held to that figure moving over the ridges and rises and down the small cliff faces in a way that made it look easy.

To think, it was only morning, and this was only the beginning. Drift had decided that mornings and evenings were reserved for running and scouting. The rest of the day would be other various activities; sparring was Perceptor's least favorite, though 'hide and seek' came in for a close second. . .

***

The light was dimming in the sky, and Perceptor surely thought Drift would call it quits too, would call him in for the night run, which would be better than what he was doing now. Hunkered down, Perceptor moved as quietly as he could, keeping his frame down and following a large crack in the volcanic rock that offered him a margin of comfort. Odd, that Drift had yet to find him, Perceptor thought worriedly, as he winced when a rock cracked from under his pede. Drift should've heard that, should've been on him. Perceptor's record had been fifteen minutes of playing keep away with the swordsmech. Today, it had been three hours. Feeling a shudder go down his backstrut, Perceptor simply told himself that the swordsmech was surely playing with him, toying with him, making him paranoid.

It was working.

There were thoughts of calling out for Drift, but he knew the mech would berate him, call him weak, call him a coward and Perceptor didn't want that, he wanted to please Drift. Yet, what if something had happened to Drift? What if something had gotten Drift? Such a thought caused the scientist to realize he didn't even have a chance if something had taken down Drift.

Thoughts were quickly interrupted as he heard something from behind him. It was a low scrape, followed by the scuffle of something just above. Turning around, fear plastered on his face, Perceptor looked up as he flattened himself against the wall. That was not Drift, Perceptor's paranoia told him, while another part said not to be silly. It had been four days, they hadn't seen anything living but a few herbivorous creatures that strayed from the flats where Drift had decided to train.

Then came another scrape, followed by a step, two, three, four, steps, and they were heavy, but quiet. Perceptor could feel them than hear them. Inside his spark was fluttering brightly and then he heard that confirmation that it wasn't his CPU playing tricks on him.

A growl. . .

Low, rasping, and rumbling, that growl sent shivers down his backstrut that made his knees wobble. That tense moment suddenly became one that was far more chaotic. That creature, what ever it was, roared and it was truly the most horrible sound he had ever heard. Before Perceptor knew it, a wickedly clawed paw reached down, swatting and grabbing in the fissure that Perceptor had taken refuge in. Just barely did those claws miss and Perceptor threw himself forward before starting off into a stumbling run. Run, was all Perceptor could think of, and several times he could feel the air over his helm whoosh when the beast, what ever it was, took another swipe at him on the surface just a scant distance away. Perceptor had hoped that the crack might narrow, might form a small cavern, but he found the reverse. Tripping over a stray rock, Perceptor was tossed into a much more open section of the ravine. A section much exposed, and large enough for that beast to hop in.

Fear soured Perceptor's tanks, and he scooted back using his hands, dragging his aft as fearful, tremulous sounds left his vocalizer. The scientist's optics were bright, nearly white as he stared at that beast. . .

It was massive, three times his size, and twice the size of a cyberwolf. It was quadrupedal like a cyberwolf, but the similarities soon ended from there. Cyberwolves were lithe, aerodynamic, but this creature was broad, heavily muscled with a sharply sloped back that was ridged with spines that flickered in the dying light. Green eyes, three of them stared intently on him as it growled, thin globules of a mucus-like liquid dripping from its fanged maw that was wide as his helm. It was scaled, furred and feathered, and it was a multitude of colors, red, greens, yellows and blues, and everything about it said that it was the top of the food chain. . .

Closer and closer it came, hunkering down as it further bared those teeth, ugly and yellow, while the spines on its back fanned out for a threatening display. Perceptor thought he was going to die, that this was going to be it. All alone again, he thought, still scooting back. . .

Turning his head, not wanting to see, a sudden shriek caught his audio receptors that prompted him to turn, only to see Drift atop the creature with one of his short swords plunged into the creature's side. Staring incredulously, Perceptor would watch as Drift was bucked off, only to become the object of the hunter's attention. Yet Drift didn't land on his back, smoothly he landed on his pedes and darted to the side before the loping, wounded beast could gore him. Despite the beast's heavy stature, it moved quickly with those thickly muscled legs, and it gave a baleful roar as it turned when Drift had sidestepped it. This time a bounded forward before leaping to pounce, but Drift was ready, always ready and the swordsmech ducked and rolled though flicked his blade up so it caught the beast's sternum and wicked down i's chest until it caught the mech in the stomach. That sharp sword neatly parted its skin as if it were some specimen, pinned to a board and was being prepped for dissection. Oh how it howled as Perceptor watched in stark horror as the beast's guts literally fell out, blood, gore, organs and all. It knew it was mortally dead, but it hadn't stopped moving, and it certainly was still a threat. Only, Drift was the bigger threat and he moved quickly, grinning of all things as he circled around and thrusted his sword into the beast's skull before it could whip its head around.

Denta bared, Drift thrusted that sword further into the creature's cranium as it thrashed. Now truly in death throes, the beast thrashed wildly, causing Drift to be especially careful as he stepped back from the writhing mess, leaving the swords where they were. Perceptor could see that Drift knew it was dead, its brain just didn't know it yet. After long minutes, the creature grew still as blood pooled out from its body.

Panting, half sobbing, Perceptor looked up to see Drift retrieving his swords from the carcass, both coming free with a sickening sound. Speechless was the scientist as he finally found his legs, standing up. "T-There's n-not any more of those, are there?" Perceptor asked.

"You're stuttering," Drift reminded nonchalantly.

"I asked you if there were anymore of those!" Perceptor snapped at the white mech who was splattered in a green fluid that comprised the beast's blood.

A grinned, feral and threatening appeared on Drift's face, clearly amused at Perceptor's outburst, "Probably, but they seem to be solitary," Drift answered as he padded towards Perceptor.

"I baited it out," Drift admitted with a shrug, "Didn't think it would go after you so easily," Drift said with a chuckle, "You make too much noise."

Perceptor's jaw dropped as he looked at Drift dumbly, "You lured that thing out so it could chase me!?" Perceptor asked sharply, optics brightening.

"Well, I wanted the element of surprise, so yes, I did, Perceptor," Drift said with a mocking smile.

"You used me as bait?!" Perceptor screeched rhetorically. The scientist was immensely angry and he threw himself forward at Drift. He thought the mech would sidestep him, let him fall down and embarrass him further, instead, he rammed completely and fully into Drift. A chuckle just barely caught his audio receptors as Drift dropped down with ease, rolling the both of them onto the ground so that they were wrestling in not just the dirt, but that stinking blood of the dead beast.

"You slagger!" Perceptor hissed as he tried to punch Drift, only ending up hitting dirt.

"Is that anyway to thank the mech that just saved you?" came a croon from Drift, seeming oddly cool despite Perceptor's outburst.

While Perceptor had missed, Drift had not and Perceptor found himself gasping as he was socked in the jaw by Drift's fist. A moment later, it was him that was on his back, and Drift atop him, grinning menacingly.

"That's good, Perceptor, really, good, be angry. . ." Drift purred as he grabbed at the scientist's flailing arms and pinning his wrists to the muddy ground.

Despite Drift's surprising response, Perceptor continued to fight and struggle against the mech atop him, howling before Drift actually bit him. A yowl left him before he shouted, "Get off me!"

Chuckling, Drift moved his face to Perceptor's audio receptor, "Oh no, but I do think I will get you off. . . I think you deserve it."