(Glad to see your reviews~ Anyways, onto FAA chapter 4 I guess. More torment, a few weeks time shift… hehe~

More torment, BUT NOT AS BAD AS LAST CHAPTER IN MY OPINION. But it's for her own good, you know. There is reasoning behind all of his actions; pain can debilitate anyone. If you can't register pain, then you can't be incapacitated by it.)

Every day after my first day, the vices on my door wings were tightened marginally, along with my daily torture. Eventually, over several weeks of the same repetitive stuff over and over, with only a few twists thrown in, my pain receptors no longer registered Windstrider's teachings. Clamped on my wings, the vices eventually got so tight that they punctured the metal of my wings, tearing neat holes into my metal as easily as I would pop an energon line with my claws. But still, I felt nothing from them. The ends of my door wings were dead in a sense; very little could make the pain flare in my door wings anymore. The base of my wings was different; I couldn't numb that area, however I could grin and bear it.

During my training, Uncle Windstrider would attack my weakest spot, now identifiable as my right hip joint. His toxins had damaged the joint, as he had feared he might, and periodically it would collapse in a flurry of debilitating pain that would leave me seizing on the ground. He apologized for essentially crippling me, because we had no medic skilled enough to deal with anything as intricate as what was wrong in my leg. Every rolling step brought me pain, and he never helped it with his continual use of toxins on the weak joint.

Windstrider made me fight after my torments, with him, other instructors, and other students, so I would learn how to fight through my pains. Eventually, the devastating pain in my hip faded to a minor ache every time it would fail. I never asked him to stop, and he never offered. The only thing he could do to make sure I would survive this disability was to make sure the pain never registered on my central processing unit. Not long after it became an ache, it no longer registered. My Uncle pulled out one of my wires to see if it worked. It did nothing, except make my leg spasm with the missing nerve. No longer did I feel anything pain wise in my right hip.

As the weeks passed, the other students, some of the older ones, were getting thrown into a crash course on pain management. In the midst of my own turmoil, I got to listen to their screams, the sobs, and the sounds of purging in reaction to intense pain. Few remained quiet, and Windstrider told me that was because they were being taught about pain so late into their training. His philosophy revolves around pain mostly, he said. The earlier that one is taught numbness, the less likely they will be to ever feel pain when they leave the training arena.

It was just barely half a human year that my Uncle found it time to remove the clamps. Papa and Mimi chose to come see me train on this solar cycle, since I would be being taught something new from now on, along with occasional debriefings and revisions of my pain lessons.

I walked with Shadeburner as we moved down the long stairwell that leads down to the pits where we would train. My carrier kept a hand gently rested on my shoulders; shoulders that now stood just a little taller with the growth of my protoform. Mimi spoke to me then, soft and deep. "Do you know what Windstrider has planned?"

My antenna's flicked up at Mimi's tone, and I clicked softly. "No, Mimi. Do you know?"

Shadeburner laughed lightly at me, moving his hand to gently rub my helm. "Yes, my little femme."

I looked up at him, studying him. He used a visor like I did, but it was mostly just to add a 'creepy effect' to him when he fought. Shadeburner, much like his name suggested, was solid black, where I inherited my color. He had claws like my Uncle did; only he had no toxins, since his claws couldn't be hollowed out. Mimi had whips of fire, and was teaching me to better use my own whips at home, in addition to my training in the arena. He fought with claws, fists, blades, and whips, and Mimi was talented in all of his fights. "Your not going to tell me, are you?"

"No," Shadeburner chuckled. "But I know you'll do just fine. You'll have gotten the trait needed for this from your father, hopefully."

I tilted my helm slightly and watched Papa talk with WindStrider about twenty steps back. "What trait?"

"You'll find out soon enough, sweet one." He clicked softly to me. Scruffing me, he hauled me up to sit on his shoulder when my hip made me stumble, securing me with his arm looped over my shins. "I wish he hadn't done that." He frowned at me.

"Done what, Mimi?" I asked.

Shadeburner stared at me for a bit from behind his visor, his spark seeking mine through our creator-creation bond. "Crippled you so."

I wiggled my antennas at him, perking my doorwings. "Mimi, I've told you limitless times! I'm fine! Windstrider has made it so I can't feel anything, because he says that he feels like a monster if he's teaching someone, and all they can do is scream and writhe on the ground like a worm."

Leaning his helm sideways as his arm tightened over my legs, my carrier nuzzled my arm slightly. "I know, my sweet creation. But being crippled is never a good thing, especially at your age."

"I'm not fully crippled, Mimi." I protested. "I can move around and do things like the other trainee's, and I can keep up with you and Papa."

"You may not be fully crippled yet, my youngling, but if you get hit there, it will end up crippled." Mimi pointed out.

I huffed at him. "Not if I don't let myself get hit. Don't worry so much Mimi. I'm just barely into my training, and our first practice fight against something a scarier then Sallowfringe's mentor isn't until next year."

Chuckling at me, Shadeburner bounced me, enticing a grin to stretch across my face. "True, but I'm your Carrier. Carriers always worry; it's the natural order of things."

"True, Mimi, but Papa worries a lot too."

I was snatched off of my Mimi's shoulder and settled on my Papa's shoulder when Nitrostreak bolted to catch up to us. Uncle Windstrider was barking with laughter above us as we neared the bottom. "I worry a lot about what?"

"Mimi worries that I'm going to end up fully debilitated." I stated in a matter of fact tone. "Tell Mimi that you worry too, but you know I'll be okay because I still have lots to learn, and uncle Windstrider says I have promise."

Nitrostreak repeated what I told him to say, chuckling at me before he spoke to me of his own accord. "Your just like me. You set your mind to it, and you make it happen, right?"

"Right." I nodded.

We were greeted by the tormented wails of my fellow students. They were deeper into their pain lessons, and there was not one of the students that weren't making some form of noise. A few were laughing hysterically, tears blotching their optics into rainbow hues. Some just screamed, and some make these strangled noises as they purged on themselves and seized about, like possessed machines.

I looked at them without flinching. "Sounds like they're not doing too good on the seven rules of pain, huh Uncle Windstrider."

"Correct." He breezed coolly, coming down to stand with us. He reached up and plucked me from my fathers shoulder, depositing me silently on the ground, and then flipping me around. He fiddled with the things on my door wings, though I couldn't really tell what he was doing. "You're loosing the clamps for now, Nightstrike."

I nodded back at him and set my antennas safely in their grooves. "Really?"

One of them plunked off like a dead weight, shortly followed by the other. "Yes. It would seem that we left holes in your wings." He commented dryly. "Perhaps I put the clamps too tightly into place."

Shadeburner turned me around so he could see, and then growled at my uncle. "You think?"

Nitrostreak hummed from next to my carrier. "Well, at least we have some spare metal to patch up those holes after your training. Its not the worse she's had, my dear," he nudged my Mimi, "but its not pretty. Does it hurt?" He asked me.

"No." I said. "But I haven't felt anything in my wings for a long time."

Nitrostreak gave me a pat on the helm. "Good! Then you wont have much troubles fighting in the pits when you're older." He gently stroked my wing, and I hedged away. "Did that hurt?"

"No." I said. "It felt good, but I don't like it. Pain feels more natural. Windstrider says it always will, if you can survive it."

Shadeburner growled. "And he's right. But pleasure is another thing that is natural; you have to be prepared to feel both." He said.

"I know." I said.

I would have continued, but Windstrider snatched me up and headed for the chains. "Enough chatter, Brother, sister." He said. "We came here to train; you came to watch. Be good spectators and stop distracting my student." Windstrider locked me up in the chains, and I stood, waiting. "Your goal is to stay standing for as long as you can."

I nodded. "Okay."

"If you are anything like me," Nitrostreak hollered, "you'll be just fine!"

He approached my front, and held his claws out at the ready. "Do you know what this is?" he let his claws glisten in a multitude of colors. Tilting his hand, he let me see the volatile liquid running over his claws, spouted from small holes in the tips that originated from somewhere inside his body.

I studied his claws for a moment. Then I looked up at him and met his eyes. "Pain." I answered simply.

"Yes," he said. "But it is also a few of the multiple toxins in my body that I carry. These affect Cybertronians and organics alike. This brew is my special mix, and this mix is made inside my body. I have an unlimited supply, and can create my own anti-venom which can be used as a toxin in itself."

I swallowed softly, and flicked my glossa out to wet my lips. "Okay."

"Your mech creator has an immunity to most of my toxins." Windstrider said. "In fact, a small level of toxin will always run through his energon lines, because he's been exposed to my venom since our training days together. In this trait, we hope even a small bit was passed onto you. The venom will eventually work itself into your system, and the more diversity you have, the more toxin you hold." He raked the mixture slightly down my chassis, and I watched it eat a small amount of my metal before it stopped and then started to burn and fester. "It's going to burn, and feel like a monster is clawing around within your energon lines. You will inevitably thrash, scream, and probably purge. The first exposure is always the worst, and I wont punish you this time for the rules of pain you will be sure to break."

Calmly observing it, I turned my optics up to his face. "Okay. Why do I need it?"

"The toxins will help defend your body against virus's, rusts, and other things that would ultimately cause your death." He explained. "Any of your energon that is left too long on your enemy's wounds would eventually cause a poisoning to them, and kill them."

Nodding again, I stared at his hand. "Sounds good. Lets do it." I waited for the first strike, wherever it may be.

"I'll give this too you in doses." Windstrider's voice turned icy, the voice my processor began to associate with his lessons, and he stuck at the joints of my wings, jabbing his talons into my cables. A burning liquid filled my energon lines, and I gave a low grunt. "Now, tell me, does it hurt too badly?"

"No." I said. "It will never be enough pain." I steeled my gaze and raised my head to meet his optics, as the burning spread to my back quickly. His azure optics held my gaze, as he made sure I saw his approving nod. He waited a while, until the burning was spread thinly around my body. It made my spark scream in pain, being assaulted by the liquid.

"Dose number two." He said, jabbing his claws again in to my wings. He dribbled some in the holes of my door wings too.

The burning flares of invisible flames that emanated from inside my back made my knee's go to jelly, and I wobbled. Staying on my feet, I vented harshly for a while. When it thinned as well, my whole body burning unpleasantly, I looked at him again. Windstrider grasp my face, inserted his claws, and filled the soft metal of my face with the toxin. Before me let me go, he muttered to me that I was at dose three, and also filled the main line cables in my neck with the toxin.

My vents shuddered and halted as my throat convulsed and restricted. The pain in my face, for he rarely touched my face, brought my mind into the toxic haze. Lost to the throws of poison so slow to dissipate from my face, I found myself on my knees, struggling to get up, and struggling not to cry out. Time passed so slowly, that I couldn't tell how long had actually passed, only that there was a buzzing in my audio receptors.

He struck again without warning, jabbing my stomach, and filling the plates full of venom, and then sending it squirting through my lines with a harsh and winding kick. It felt like my energon veins were being dissolved from the inside out, and that my spark was melting into a pile of nothingness. Another kick, and he delivered more venom, until my mouth fell open and I couldn't help but scream. I thrashed, jerking at my chains, and he slammed his claws into my throat again, pumping more burning venom inside me.

I hadn't eaten that morning, and for that I was glad. My tanks rolled, but there was nothing for me to even dry heave with. I shuddered, screaming again at a shot put into my right hip. Without missing a beat, his hand shot up to my chest. Windstrider's claws wheedled into my chest, past my armor, my protoform, and jabbed thin holes in an opening of my spark chamber. There, he released his toxin in thick bursts, bathing my screaming spark in the poisons.

My body jerked upright, and I roared, the pain flaring up higher then it had ever been. I tried to accept the pain, to let it enfold me, but I was lost amongst the swell. My optics fizzed, and I went silent and limp as my processor shut down. I awoke a few times as my body went into heavy seizures, fighting the toxins in my body. In one of my moments of spasming in the chains, I got to see my 'classmates' watching me raptly, and then I don't remember anything more of that day, or the next few after that.