PART 2
#Socially disastrous
It turned out that living with a highly intelligent geek did have its perk. First and foremost, he would have someone to turn to whenever there was a point he was missing in his thesis. Of course, not that he would normally be that careless, since it would be disastrous for any Archivist, not to mention his perfectionism. Also, another pair of servos to help around with tidying the quarter, though that was hardly necessary considering Shockwave's pristine sanitary and effective organization. He always thought he was the ideal mech in every standard, but those times had long seen better days ever since Shocky made his official arrival. The only flaw that Orion could seem to pin-point was his social awkwardness, or rather a lack of one, seeing that he was either always very blunt and straightforward, or really quiet. Meticulous observation revealed that those silence weren't just that, they were calculative and intriguing, just as much as judmental and evaluative. Innocent Orion just thought that Shocky had his standards too high and couldn't make any real friends yet, and that it had nothing to do with how majority of the time he actually appreciated solitary and built walls around himself to separate from an overwhelming outside world.
So Orion decided to play the annoying, unrequested match-maker.
"HELLOOO THERE, FRIENDLY ROOMMATE! WANT TO SOCIALIZE WITH FRIENDS?" He practically bellowed out an after-cycle in the mess hall, which predictably didn't go so well. What was worse, was that it was lunch break, and the room couldn't get any more crowded. But topping the list of worst scenarios was how Shockwave was seated on an empty bench in the middle of the room, furthest from any surrounding exits, and so startled from the yell that he accidentally dropped an entire tray of rust sticks on a nearby femme.
It was chaos almost instantly right after.
A food fight, or more rather an energon fight, was started by said femme splashing her cube's content into the face of an innocent bystander, who shoved his quantity of energon treats into someone else's face plate. The war raged on, down until the very last mecha of the auditorium was participating, and by then, no one was clean, sane, or holding any ounce of maturity left.
Unfortunately, Shockwave hadn't managed to get out yet. In fact, he was stuck in a strong helmlock from a random bulky freshman, wriggling to the best of his motor capabilities, but to no prevail, as was the result with any other physical struggle between a geek and a jock. His entire light frame was dented, covered in scratches, and sticky with dried energon residue. But what bothered him most was how his soft, sensitive helm-joint cables and air vent was being strangled and constricted too much for ordinary respiration. He couldn't breathe, and that shocked him into a raising panic attack. Spark rate increased, energon flow thickened, he tried to calm himself by thinking about an instructor's latest assignment, dead turbofoxes, mathematic algorithms, but nothing yielded results.
So he did the only thing he could think of.
He grabbed the closest bottle of acidic solvent and poured it straight over the jock's helm, causing his optics to sizzle and burn with a sickening crack, accompanied by an anguished scream. The mech instantly let go of Shockwave and collapsed on the ground, servos clutching tight onto his deteriorating facial components, while sobbing like a wailing sparkling. The fight had already stopped, and everyone was looking at them.
The moment Shockwave realized he was getting into a whole large heap of trouble, The Thirteenth Prime was silently smirking from his observation at a far away bench. The first step of his plan had succeeded.
