A/N: Yes, I haven't updated in 2 months and I sincerely apologize. I apologize, I know I'm slag, and I will make up for it somehow.
Questions-
Will Darkstrike's time be able to be bought by others?
She would not be able to be bought unless she agrees, or the buyer offers a large sum of cash to bribe the owners.
How long is this before the war? (Or Darkstrike's age)
The war is not far, but not exactly soon either. More scenes will take place in the Golden Age.
Darkstrike is still very young, even more than Soundwave. However, in my story, certain types of mechs and femmes age slower than other, them having a longer lifespan as well.
Won't Darkstrike's creators notice her sudden fame in the Pits?
Darkstrike is from another place on Cybertron and not native to Kaon, so her creators are oblivious.
Perilous- full of danger or risk
Swap paint- A slang term for cuddling, snogging, bonding, etc. (Transformers canon term)
Chapter 7
Soundwave hardly recharged that night. The femme's presence had constantly bothered him joors into the night. Even if he wanted to recharge, she had taken his berth. Soundwave would not recharge in the same berth with the femme simply because he found the suggestion absurd.
The mech rather do more interesting things rather than recharging or swapping paint. Though, not with this femme. He rather not become involved any more than he already had.
He turned to femme.
Soundwave observed the way the femme remained motionless. His optics drifted to the slight scar on her wings. There were scratches and dents, but it was the scar that called his attention. The femme had been seemingly flawless when first arriving and it filled him with morbid pleasure at seeing her marred perfection.
He shook his helm.
There was no use clouding his thoughts with such trivialities.
His dark optics glanced at her again. It was possible that she wouldn't awaken any time soon. Soundwave predicted that she'd wake up in a few joors, lost and clueless.
The mech had not been this absorbed in something since he had begun to move up in the ranks. There was the occasional courtesan who had shared his berth, but those were faces he hadn't bothered to remember.
Speaking of faceplates, the femme sure seemed concerned on seeing his. He didn't humor the idea. Soundwave didn't understand the concept of aesthetic beauty nor did he want to.
This seemed to befuddle the femme, not that he expected her to understand anything he did.
Then again, he had yet to comprehend much about the femme, especially about what had been going through her mind in her encounter with Airachnid.
Darkstrike had prevented him from getting sponsored from the other vexatious femme. It hadn't been the first time Airachnid had irked Soundwave with bothersome interventions.
It was all an elaborate rouse. He could clearly see it, judging by her slick smirk and the deceptive glint in her optics. All it took was for her to bat her optics and emit a few words and any other foolish, desperate mech would be under her heel. Unbeknownst to Airachnid, Soundwave was neither. If she took him for an idiot, she would have to think again.
That cycle, it was clear that Airachnid would not leave until he'd agreed for her to sponsor him. Soundwave knew how it worked, he had been in the Pits long enough. Sponsors exploited all Gladiators, managing to steal their earnings and then leaving them to rust.
Soundwave made triple than a low ranking Gladiator, an aspect that Airachnid was attracted to.
When Darkstrike had intervened, she had successfully interrupted their talk. Of course, he had seen the femme from afar, but he hadn't expected her to have done anything. Soundwave had been too preoccupied with Airachnid to have foreseen Darkstrike's abrupt actions.
The moment Airachnid's datapad had shattered was the moment Soundwave's frustration had died down. Darkstrike had been angry about something, it seemed.
The result was Airachnid's own fury. He had never seen the femme behave so undignified. Her usual charming facade had melted, revealing the femme's true nature. The spiderbot hadn't been able to completely recover from the interruption, even after Darkstrike had excused herself. She had attempted to melt back into her sultry mask, but Soundwave could see through it.
Airachnid had ignited aggression in Darkstrike (vice-versa), something that didn't happen with RocketShield.
It seemed that all innocence was corruptible in the Pits of Kaon.
Soundwave wouldn't show any gratitude towards Darkstrike. At the most, her actions intrigued him. He'd confront the femme about it when she'd awaken. He wasn't expecting her to tell him directly, but her thoughts would be easy to read when he'd bring up the topic.
The mech turned his attention back to his blueprints.
Best he stop thinking about it now. There were more important things to concentrate on.
Soundwave studied his datapad. He would have to remain focused if he wanted to fix the rudimentary plans for his drone. He cursed the femme for infecting his thoughts.
She interested him than most Gladiators there, but that gave no justification for his constant musing.
Soundwave managed to work on his blueprints for a few joors before his optics unconsciously wandered to the femme's sleeping form.
If he were any other mech in Kaon, he would have taken her. He could have done so at any time he wanted. The Gladiator wasn't a gentlemech, that wasn't the reason stopping him.
The mech slammed his datapad on the counter.
It would be the humiliation of admitting he was lusting her. He certainly had more self-control than many mechs. Soundwave didn't fall into that desperation, that would simply be asking to be manipulated. There were simply more important things to do.
Again, he realized that his thoughts had drifted.
The only thing that allowed him to tolerate his absentmindedness was the fact that he knew that she thought more about him than the other way around.
Even before Darkstrike opened her optics, she could feel it: the painstaking processor-ache.
The crash in her helm intensified when she shifted. It caused her to groan aloud. Her optics clenched shut, hoping that it would go away.
It didn't.
Darkstrike pulled a servo to clutch her helm.
What did I do last night?
She quickly searched her processor to find the stored memories. Darkstrike revisited the images leading up to when she had entered the energon room. The night slowly began unraveling.
Darkstrike was able to recollect the bulk of it: high-grade energon, festivities, singing, anger, encounters, Soundwave.
The femme suddenly remembered how she'd given him a good view of her bare protoform. Her spark burned with mortification at the realization that Soundwave had carried her back because of her incapability of functioning correctly.
Soundwave had witnessed her foolishness. The thought caused Darkstrike to feel humiliated and indecent.
So much for being Soundwave's equal.
Another thought crept inside her processor. Soundwave's servos had drifted parts that weren't entirely considered innocent. It seemed he wasn't going to try anything else, but it was hard to tell.
"I-I've never done this before,"
Great, now he knows I'm a virgin. Anything else I want to blurt out?
The last thing Darkstrike recalled was seeing his bare faceplates. She couldn't make up much, but she recalled red optics. Those crimson orbs couldn't have belonged to anyone else.
Darkstrike lowered her servos to the berth. She immediately felt the smooth metal. It was strangely unfamiliar. She opened her red optics. The femme was met by another Cybertronian.
"Slag!" she shrieked. Darkstrike's excitable state caused her to fall of the berth. Her wings collided with the cold floor. She lied there, coming to a full realization.
Darkstrike held onto the surface for support. She slowly elevated her helm to peak over the edge of the berth. Her optics found Soundwave again. He silently returned her gaze.
Fool, pick yourself up. Darkstrike composed herself and sheepishly smiled. Soundwave didn't respond. Regardless if his visor was on, the flier could feel the cold stare.
She awkwardly stood up, avoiding looking directly at the mech. After a few kliks, he alleviated his gaze. Darkstrike sighed in relief and hesitantly looked up
Soundwave reached for a cube. He threw the energon her way. Darkstrike extended her servo and stumbled to catch it. She didn't need his offerings considering she had stored cubes in her subspace.
The femme reached into her personal storage, only to find that it was empty. Darkstrike froze. Setting down her cube, she checked her subspace again.
"Where are my cubes?" the flier murmured to herself. She couldn't have drunken them yesterday. She had properly stored them, receiving energon only from other mechs.
Darkstrike looked up at Soundwave. The mech seemed to know what she was asking and pointed towards the counter. There were two datapads and multiple energon cubes on the surface. Her optics widened in surprise and a blue streak colored her faceplates.
"You went through my subspace?" she asked taken aback. Soundwave nodded. Darkstrike narrowed her optics at him. "Why?" she asked.
"Weapons might have been at your disposal," he responded. Darkstrike huffed and plopped down on his berth. She took the energon he had given her and angrily sipped it. Great. It was in Soundwave's power to take her energon for himself considering she couldn't do anything about it.
What right did he have to go through her subspace? How would he like it if she went through his? Soundwave certainly wouldn't like that, he would surely take her violation of personal space as an advance. The last thing Darkstrike wanted was more contact with him and Soundwave getting the wrong idea.
"They will be mine if you do not collect them," Soundwave spoke. Darkstrike quickly sprung up and scurried to get her cubes. She went for her datapads and she noticed Soundwave glance at them. One she had labeled "battle strategies". It was the one Soundwave had given her.
The other was labeled "wrecker." It was a datapad she had broken out of fury because her past boyfriend had betrayed her. Darkstrike only kept it as a fragment of her past. She hoped Soundwave hadn't paid much attention to the labels. Even if it wasn't his business, the femme couldn't take any more judgment from the enigmatic mech.
Quickly snatching it up, Darkstrike purposely left some energon cubes on the counter. Before Soundwave could remark, Darkstrike had beat him to it.
"It's for your troubles of allowing me to recharge in your chambers," Darkstrike replied. He nodded and continued to work on a device in his servos.
"I do apologize for enduring my behavior. It won't happen again," she said hastily, making a move to leave his chambers. She made a move to open his door, but it would not comply. The femme made another attempt. The result was the same.
"What the? What's wrong with this?" Darkstrike questioned.
"Soundwave: Locked it," he responded.
"What? Why?" she asked, increasingly getting nervous.
"Darkstrike will earn freedom," Soundwave responded.
"What?" she asked in disbelief. "What do you mean? Earned? You-you can't do this! I have training!" The mech did not seem alarmed at her rising anger. Darkstrike began preparing to rant about her rights before realizing that they didn't apply to her current circumstance.
"No training today," he replied. Soundwave wasn't lying. The owners foresaw the amount of hangovers the mechs would have the following cycle.
"Are you—are you grounding me? You're keeping me captive!" Darkstrike exclaimed. Soundwave continued to work on the device in his servo. The femme attempted to open the door again. Much to her dismay, it was to no avail. She gritted her denta. The door endured multiple abuses from the femme's powerful kicks.
"How do you even lock it from the inside?" she grumbled. Soundwave gestured to the multiple devices in his servos.
"Intelligence," he responded. Darkstrike vented in frustration. She turned around and sat down on the berth. Red optics glared at the floor.
"I hope you realize that this won't get me to interface with you," she mumbled frowning. He found it amusing that the femme's first thought of being his captive was interface.
Darkstrike, on the other servo, was infuriated. She guessed that she somehow deserved this. The femme had dragged Soundwave into one of her scenes.
Still, she hadn't asked for Soundwave to help her.
Not that she wasn't grateful.
What exactly did he expect of her? She refused to be reduced to a pleasure bot to get out of his room. Besides, he'd probably get annoyed with her and let her out, sooner or later.
"How exactly do I earn my freedom?" she asked.
Soundwave didn't immediately respond. He didn't respond after kliks had gone by, for that matter.
In fact, it was like if she hadn't spoken at all. His quietude was beginning to make Darkstrike hesitate.
It was only after an eternity that he felt like responding.
"Redeem yourself," he stated. Why does he always speak in fragging riddles? Just tell me.
"And how do I do that?" she hesitantly asked. Soundwave didn't respond again. Darkstrike guessed that she would have to figure it out on her own.
She was trapped in a room with the second-ranking Gladiator with no way to escape. How wonderful. As if being in public with him didn't already scare her, but being alone with the mech in his room? Primus might as well offline her there.
Darkstrike crossed her arms and looked away, features painted with frustration.
She sat down in silence, listening only to the small tweaks Soundwave made on his device. The clicks were minor, but they were the only interesting thing in the quiet room.
Darkstrike wasn't one to become easily bored in mundane surroundings, but there was something about sitting on Soundwave's berth that made her feel awkward. The femme felt as if she had to do something, especially in Soundwave's presence.
Her audios enhanced every time he made some sort of noise. Darkstrike attempted to hypothesize what it was he was fixing but couldn't quite place her claw on it. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, Darkstrike couldn't help but glance at Soundwave's work.
He seemed to know what he was doing. Darkstrike assumed he was an intelligent mech, but she never would have guessed that he was knowledgeable enough to create such complicated devices.
Well... it seemed complicated, she wouldn't know unless she took a closer look. She slowly inched closer, curious optics peering over his shoulder.
The femme wasn't as clueless as others might have thought. Darkstrike had her fair share of knowledge. Higher castes always offered top education.
Her claws twitched as she leaned in closer to get a better look.
"Your query?" Soundwave asked, never looking away from his task. Darkstrike flinched back, a bit embarrassed. She looked down at her claws.
"N-no... I was simply interested," she mumbled. The mech didn't respond and went to grab his datapad. He tossed it to the femme. Darkstrike perked up when she saw it. She looked up at him questionably. Soundwave didn't regard her, but it was obvious what he wanted her to do.
Darkstrike tapped on the screen, immediately making it light up.
The flier took a few kliks to read the characters and symbols. Her optics went on to read the brief summary. She understood most of it, yet she couldn't help but be impressed at the fact that Soundwave done it all himself.
He was building no ordinary device. The blueprints suggested he wanted to build something more extravagant. The details were incredible. She marveled at the information, knowing that it had been a while since someone had presented such a complex system to her.
"You're constructing a drone!" she exclaimed. Soundwave dimly nodded. "Did—did you do all this?" she asked. He nodded once more. She marveled at it. With her extensive knowledge, Darkstrike wanted to see if she could possibly aid the mech.
"Can I see what you have done so far?" she asked. Soundwave demonstrated the device in his servos. It was only the base, but despite this, Darkstrike was very astonished that he had gotten this far. She slowly traveled over to him, wary of any possible actions. Darkstrike observed it but didn't dare take it into her own grasp.
"Can I assist you?" she nervously asked. Soundwave took the device away and regarded her warily.
"Your assistance: Not required," he stated, "Unnecessary." Darkstrike suddenly felt offended and slightly embarrassed. She somehow had a feeling that he didn't think she had the same capability he did in constructing the drone.
"But it might help quicken the process and I can search for any errors you might have," she interjected. Soundwave shook his helm.
"Unnecessary," he responded. Darkstrike looked away in embarrassment at being rejected. She bit her glossa.
She could help! She really could!
Then show him.
Darkstrike grabbed the datapad. Soundwave didn't seem to interject her slight action and Darkstrike was grateful.
The femme sat onto the berth to begin her own work. Both Cybertronians stood silent, both enraptured in their own tasks.
Darkstrike read the first page, and reread it for a good number of kliks. She made sure that her optics didn't miss a single symbol. Her processor quickly formulated the correct pieces based on previous schooling. Plans geared in her mind on how exactly she could advance. Once the idea stemmed, her claws began their diligent typing.
It had been a while since Darkstrike had used her mind in this complex way, aside from practicing battle strategies. It felt refreshing, despite the dull ache she felt in her processor.
When the dark-armored femme had revised the first page enough, she had set it down and traveled closer to Soundwave.
He hadn't looked up, but Darkstrike knew he had sensed her presence. Her optics flickered to Soundwave's servos and fingers. Darkstrike extended a servo towards him. However, before it could touch his device, Soundwave's servo shot out, attaching to her wrist. His visor turned in her direction, and the femme could feel his cold gaze.
The femme's optics widened. She slowly inched back. Soundwave stood up, walking forward as she did back. His servo didn't leave her wrist.
"Your intentions?" he asked threateningly. He must have been serious about the project.
Darkstrike frowned and looked down. The femme attempted to hide her gaze and preferred to cower away instead of facing him like a true Gladiator.
But dammit, Soundwave was no ordinary mech or Gladiator.
Soundwave grabbed her chin and tilted her helm up, "Speak."
Darkstrike bit her lip. "I can be of assistance too! I am not as empty-processored as you may think," she retorted.
"Prove your statement."
She hesitated before continuing.
"I have been revising your information. As stunning as it is, I noticed a flaw. You're building this drone to be a grounder. I believe that you should build it to be agile and lighter as an aerial mode. This could make for easy transportation as well," she replied. The femme handed him the datapad so he could read it more in depth.
Soundwave processed this information and went back to his seat. Darkstrike awkwardly stood there, wondering if he had bothered to acknowledge her words. A few nano-kliks went by. Again, the femme was doubting herself. He grabbed the datapad and threw it at her.
He then grabbed the datapad and threw it at her.
Darkstrike caught it, though, not before stumbling onto the berth so that the device wouldn't fall on the floor.
She composed herself before looking at Soundwave.
"Revise it. Confirm your intelligence again," he stated.
Darkstrike looked down and smiled slightly. She sat down on the berth, grasping the datapad firmly.
For the next couple of joors, the femme patiently went through as many pages as she could. There were many, many pages, and she was sure she wouldn't be able to finish today, or tomorrow for that matter.
Although they had stayed silent, Darkstrike had made comments on the information. There were a few crucial errors, but she had made sure to rectify them.
She didn't talk much, but neither did Soundwave. Darkstrike was completely satisfied with this. If she had to choose between being alone in her room or silence with Soundwave, Darkstrike would choose the latter. It was quite lonely in her room and having some type of company certainly eased her. She didn't know if he felt the same, but as long as she was content, nothing else mattered.
Silence also made it easier to lessen her fear towards Soundwave. The fact that he wasn't talking gave her the intuition that he wouldn't try anything. He hadn't made a move to touch her and it made her wary.
Darkstrike got up from the berth and began stretching her joints. Her armor had been a bit cumbersome, but she refused to take it off. Not after last night. Not ever.
She traveled over to Soundwave again. She set the datapad down near him. He looked up at her.
"I haven't finished, but I've done a lot. I revised your work and did my best to correct and improve it. I hope you don't mind. I can return to continue... well, with your permission of course..." she sheepishly suggested.
Soundwave stood up and looked down at her. "Query: Why return?" he asked.
Darkstrike looked away, blushing. "I-I won't return if that's what you want," she said.
He repeated his question, his servo bringing her helm up to look at him. Darkstrike's optics widened.
"Well... I'm interested in aiding you with this. I believe that we can assemble a very efficient drone. Besides... I haven't completely earned my freedom if I don't stay until this is done."
He stood silent for a moment.
"Perspective of intel?" he asked. Darkstrike had to dwell on his question. Perspective? What did he mean?
"Clarification: Your opinion of drone," Soundwave said. Darkstrike's optics widened.
How did he know that she needed a clarification? She inwardly shook her helm. He must have sensed her confusion. Darkstrike bit her glossa and slightly backed up. Soundwave followed her.
It caused her to press up against the wall, his servos gripping her sides. She blushed, too scared to grab or refuse Soundwave.
Surprisingly, she didn't feel repulsed like when RocketShield had cornered her. There was something about Soundwave that obviously distinguished him.
Darkstrike, while finding his touches pleasing, was becoming weary of this all-too-familiar process. It always seemed to happen when they were alone. He was being dominant over her, grabbing her as he pleased. The femme was growing tired of it.
It was unfair.
It made her feel inferior, submissive. Soundwave was the who had told her to refuse submitting. It had already occurred multiple times and the flier was becoming frustrated with it.
Darkstrike wanted to see if he liked if she did the same, grabbing him without his consent.
"Soundwave! I am n-no pleasurebot," she complained, "I do not approve of these actions!"
"I did not approve of femme's disruption with Airachnid," he responded.
Her optics widened greatly. The words died down on her glossa. Darkstrike was hoping he had forgotten about it. She tensed up in his hold. The wall behind her was the only support to go to.
"What was the motive for your violence? It was no accident," he interrogated. Her claws scraped on the wall behind her.
"It was a training accident. You should know that those occur often," she said in self-defense. The femme narrowed her optics at Soundwave, in hopes that he did not get suspicious of her.
"Lies," he responded, tightening his hold on her. Slag, he's onto me.
"Why else could I have thrown it? Enlighten me, what do you think my motives were?" Darkstrike said, wearing the facade of courage well. She knew it was a lie. But if she let him know that, she would lose.
If Darkstrike were to let Soundwave win, she'd end up looking stupid. The femme refused to lose. She refused to let it happen.
Soundwave stood silent.
Darkstrike was increasingly becoming nervous. There was no way he knew! He couldn't have been watching! Soundwave couldn't have come to the conclusion that Darkstrike was jealous. He wouldn't have been able to tell. There was no reason for him to think that.
Then again, she was absolutely pathetic for doing what she had done.
"Darkstrike: Jealous," he stated. Her red optics widened in horror. Her spark began beating faster.
"N-no! That—that's preposterous! Why would I be jealous of her?" Darkstrike asked, fighting back her blush. She glared up at his accusation. How could he have possibly found out? It was almost as if he...
"Jealousy over attention," Soundwave said. Darkstrike turned her helm. The mech lifted his servo and grabbed the femme's faceplates. His digits wrapped around the side of her helm where her audios lied and his thumb spread across her chin. His fingers wrapped around the backside of her helm.
His hold lifted so that she looked at him. The femme wasn't able to pull away this time.
"Over Soundwave's attention," he clarified. She couldn't answer him. She wouldn't answer him. Soundwave pushed her helm roughly on the wall behind her. His digits traveled dangerously close to her neck, right where her energon circulated. He raised her helm up so that her neck was arched and exposed to him.
"Answer," he commanded.
"My answer to your assumption is no!" she exclaimed. Soundwave's thumb began on one of the energon circuits and he dug it in. The femme winced.
"Lies," he accused. Despite this, his voice held the same recognizable, monotonous tone.
"You said to answer, you never specified to answer with the truth or with a lie," she cleverly remarked.
"Answer truthfully," he said. Darkstrike let out a frustrated vent.
"Why do you even care?"
"Lies: Not appreciated."
"What use is there answering if you already know the answer? Oh, you just enjoy tormenting me, don't you?" she snapped. His fingers dug deeper.
"Question: Not answered."
"Fine then. Yes, I was jealous of that slagging femme!" she exclaimed, "Is that what you wanted to hear? Because you slagging heard it," there was a slight growl, "I really dislike you sometimes."
With her response, Soundwave removed his servo from her helm.
She felt defeated.
It burns more because it's his fault! If he weren't always around me, I wouldn't have this stupid attraction for him. I don't even know if it's considered an attraction. If Soundwave would mind his own business like every other Gladiator, I wouldn't be pinned beneath him, bantering over the sensations he's invoked. I ought to—to!—
"What do you intend to do if I continue?" he asked.
Darkstrike froze. She closed her optics and clutched her helm, "Stop."
Was he... Impossible! He couldn't! This mech was beginning to seem stranger and more enigmatic with every klik she spent with him. It's was all too bewildering to be true.
"Impossibilities: For simple-minded."
Again, she began panicking. Darkstrike grit her denta in hopes it would allow her to concentrate shielding her mind
There was silence. There seemed to be a preference for actions rather over words.
His digits traveled up to her waist. They brushed over her sensors. They traveled lower. Darkstrike blushed.
"What are you doing?"
He continued his actions.
"If you're looking for an injury, I can assure you that the one I had is already gone," she snapped.
He gave her thigh a pat, as if tracing the spot he once touched. His servos then began roughly patting her upper frame and occasionally hips. He might have been searching for something or simply grabbing her. Neither would surprise her.
She glared up at him, attempted to grab his servos so that he could stop.
Then he stopped when he found it: her subspace.
He slipped a light substance in it. Soundwave's fingers lingered on the spot. He then backed up to his counter and continued working. He continued his task almost as if nothing had just happened between them as if he hadn't just groped her.
Darkstrike stared at him, clearly baffled at his actions. Soundwave didn't seem too affected. Her blush shone brightly in contrast to her white faceplates. It took her a few kliks before she had enough courage to reach into her subspace.
The femme pulled out a small surface with five Cybertronian symbols on it. Her optics focused on it, unsure for a moment.
Then, Darkstrike understood.
It was the passcode to open his door. She looked up at him but saw that he was busy again.
Darkstrike walked to his door before typing the symbols near the edge. The door suddenly hissed open. Darkstrike looked at him one last time. Her lips pursed in hesitation. She gulped, knowing she was going to regret what she would do.
"When do you want me to come back?" she suddenly asked.
Soundwave turned his head slightly. He was silent.
After all he had done, after walking on the thin line of boundaries, after he had begun to push her farther than anyone ever had, she had still held her offer to him.
"Tomorrow," he responded. The door quickly shut closed.
If Soundwave were any less stoic, he would have smirked. He had won for the moment. If the femme wouldn't return, Soundwave knew that he would have succeeded in intimidating her. If she didn't return, it meant that what he had done actually had an affect on her. However, if Darkstrike did return, it meant that the femme accepted his dominance and actions, and would let him continue, regardless of what he had already done.
Soundwave wasn't one to touch, he normally despised most physical contact, but something about feeling the femme's vulnerability gave him secret gratification. It fueled his impulse to touch her broken perfection. He wanted to caress her innocence, he wanted to be the one to further break it.
Either way, Darkstrike had lost.
He had beat his little femme in the first round of their unofficial game.
Darkstrike attempted to compose herself in a dignified manner. She pursed her lips together and kept her optics open in a rough realization of what had happened in a lapse of two cycles.
It was unreal.
The flier stumbled to the end of the hallway, seeking a safer place than Soundwave's room.
As she darted towards the exit, a large figure seemed to appear on the opposite end. Darkstrike managed to avoid colliding into the mech. It all happened in a blur and when her vision cleared, the femme managed to get a view of who the large figure was.
Megatronus stood in front of her.
Her optics widened. She took a step back and noticed how he observed her with slight curiosity and wariness. She gulped.
"What are you doing in these hallways?" he questioned. Darkstrike furrowed her optic-ridges.
"—Nothing!" she blurted too quickly to be true. Megatronus sensed her dishonesty. However, before he could further question her, Darkstrike ducked her helm and scurried out of his reach.
His optic-ridges furrowed for a moment. A thought suddenly came to him and he couldn't help but smirk.
The femme, being too preoccupied with the thought of Soundwave, didn't see it. She rushed past more hallways until she had reached her own door.
She skittishly typed in her own passcode. The door hissed open and the femme couldn't help but feel relieved at the sight of her own berth.
Darkstrike flopped down on her berth. She checked her internal time. It was about late cycle.
She hadn't realized how much time she had spent in Soundwave's room. Though, it shouldn't surprise the femme considering a lot had happened in her captivity.
The most befuddling thing she had discovered during her imprisonment in his room was the way he seemed to know what was on her mind. At first, the femme thought she was being paranoid, but now she knew something definitely there. Some of his statements only helped to confirm her suspicions that Soundwave could read her mind. It sounded utterly ridiculous, and many would call her crazy for thinking it, but then again, none of them had the same firsthand experience as her.
It was bizarre thinking that her thoughts were no longer protected. The theory was nothing short of outlandish, but it was both fascinating and scary to know that another Cybertronian had the capacity to reach inside her mind. The thought was enough to make Darkstrike hesitate on whether she should return or not.
Though, the femme would have left unfinished business if she didn't return. She had done a lot already, but she still had yet to prove her usefulness to him. Darkstrike didn't want him to know that she almost cracked with only one visit in his room.
The flier sighed.
She didn't even understand why else she wanted to risk returning. It wasn't safe or considered sane for her. Anything was a possibility with Soundwave.
The prospect itself was dangerous, risky, and perilous. But, it was also exciting.
The thought of returning seemed a lot more interesting than carrying on with her usual routine, consisting of training and loneliness.
Curiously enough, Soundwave hadn't tried anything beyond groping. However, Darkstrike suspected that it was more of a superior issue than it was a lust issue.
Darkstrike had a feeling that the only reason he hadn't taken her like other mechs would have was because he thought she wasn't worth his time. Soundwave outranked her by a lot and didn't seem the type to hold such mech sentiments that others would.
Needless to say, she had mixed feelings at the fact.
The mech was an enigma.
Soundwave was the Gladiator mech she had spent most of her time with. He must have known her better than anyone there, which still wasn't saying much.
The Gladiator had been able to observe her slight liking to him and her jealousy, of Airachnid no less! He even knew where her subspace was. And yet, Darkstrike knew nothing about him.
Well, that completely wasn't true.
She recently found out that he was secretly innovative. Soundwave had enough intelligence to design such complex creations. He was silent and he didn't reveal much.
The flier was beginning to wonder why out of all of the mechs, she had to have fallen victim to Soundwave? Victim? Was that the appropriate term?
It seemed so.
The next morning, Darkstrike sluggishly made her way towards the energon room. She knew that there wouldn't be any energon, but the change in company might be refreshing. The other mechs were probably regrouping before training as well. It was most likely habit than anything else.
As she entered to room, she noticed the familiar red mech. She gave a weak smile and leaned on the counter.
However, the mech didn't even look at her. "There's no energon today," he rudely stated.
"I know."
Magnesium slowly averted his optics from his datapad and onto the femme. He paused for a klik. "You look like slag," he stated. Her weak smile reverted into a grimace. She rolled her optics and sighed.
"Well so do you."
"..."
"Also, you should be a little more grateful. I saved your datapad from shattering," the femme remarked. Magnesium chuckled.
"So? I have more, you know. Do you actually think that I read the same datapad every cycle?" he questioned. Darkstrike looked away and coughed.
"How would I know? They all look the same," she stated.
"Figures that's what you'd know about datapads," the red mech hummed. Her optic twitched slightly.
"Oh shut up, I'm not in the mood for your smart-aft sarcasm," she snapped.
"Very appropriate attitude, femme. That smile of yours lights up my cycle. I'm assuming you were also hopped up on energon." Darkstrike groaned and held her helm.
"Don't remind me," she replied, burying her helm in her arms.
"Seems like you had a rough night," the mech said with an amused tone of voice. He lowered his datapad, showing that he was now engaged in their conversation.
"You don't even know the half of it," she mused.
"So what happened with you?" the mech asked, now curious. Darkstrike hesitated. She was unsure whether to continue. It really wouldn't help her at all. He obviously wouldn't give her any helpful advice. For all she knew, he would blabber it to the other mechs. He certainly seemed like the type.
Then again, it would help telling at least someone even if it was Magnesium. She had already been through the worst, what harm would it do? So long as she didn't mention any designations, right? Darkstrike might as well humor the mech.
"Let's just say... I ended up in someone's chambers," she said in a low voice. Magnesium quirked an optic-ridge.
"You interfa-"
"No! You idiot, I never said that anything inappropriate happened! Is that all mechs think about?— Never mind that," she sighed.
"You ended up in someone's chambers without interface? Seems like a complete waste, at least to me. I don't judge preference," he remarked. Darkstrike proceeded to glare at him.
"So, who's the mech anyways?"
Darkstrike's hard gaze dissolved. She remained silent.
Magnesium's stare didn't encourage her to speak, quite the contrary. She averted her optics. He rolled his optics and sighed.
"Is the mech in the room right now?" he questioned. Darkstrike faced the other direction to get a view of the mechs in the room. Her optics scanned the room, flickering to all the tables. Accidental optic-contact only caused some mechs to wink or glare at her.
She also made sure to avoid Rocketshield's little group.
Then, she saw the distinguishable visor. The femme hastily turned around before he could take notice of her. She tapped her claws on the counter and looked down.
"No," she responded.
"Ah, so he is in here," Magnesium hummed. Her optics widened and her claws curled, producing fresh scratch marks on the counter. How did he know? Did everyone have the ability to read her mind?
Well, slag.
"How would you know?" Darkstrike accused.
"Your reaction made it obvious," he replied. The flier sighed in relief. Alright then, so not everybody could read her mind. Just maybe Soundwave. Not that it was any better.
"So, who's the lucky mech who managed to capture your affections? Who's the mech that decided not to frag yo—" the red mech was cut off.
"You know what, that's suddenly not important anymore," Darkstrike said. He laughed.
"Well, you're the one who brought it up," Magnesium said.
"Then I can change the topic?" the femme asked.
"No."
"You know what? I can just walk away from this so-called conversation," she said.
He shrugged, "Whatever, you are the one that started it."
"Well, I'm finishing it!"
"No need to get angry. Damn femme getting this riled up for one mech," Magnesium muttered.
"I'm not riled up, and So— ahem, that mech means nothing to me," she said, suddenly going quiet. Magnesium raised an optic ridge.
"Wait, what was the designation you were going to give?" he asked.
"Nothing!" she blurted.
"No, it started with an 'S' didn't it?" the red mech insinuated. Her optics widened.
"No..."
"A while ago, weren't we talking about a mech with the name of Sa- So... what was his name?"
Darkstrike wanted to purge her tanks. Well, this was a mistake. "I have to go."
And like that, the femme was quickly rushing out of the room. She wasn't able to leave, not before slightly bumping her shoulder with a mech's long arm.
There was thick tension in the atmosphere when they turned to look at each other. She gulped at the realization that other fighters were staring at them. The femme nervously raised an optic ridge before quickly apologizing and continuing on her path.
Soundwave watched as the femme scurried out the energon room. When he turned back, he noticed some optics on him. He stood up straight. The stance was enough to make everyone look away.
He didn't bother with listening to their petty thoughts; he had much better things to think about. Things that didn't involve that femme either.
It was about time he took his processor to a more intellectual level. Thinking about the femme made him feel impotent, and that was the last thing Soundwave needed. It was a pastime, not an obsession.
Soundwave continued walking, remembering why he had gone to the energon room in the first place. He made his way over to Megatronus. He took a seat beside the other mech. Blue optics flickered his way.
"Soundwave," Megatronus acknowledged. The mech nodded in silent greet. Soundwave pointed at the datapad. It looked almost brand new. He wasn't one to question its origins, though.
"Ah, yes. A friend gave it to me. I have a certain taste of the politics of this era,"
"Injustices?" Soundwave inferred.
"Exactly," the blue-optic mech responded, "And I have a feeling we share similar feelings about it."
Soundwave gave nothing more than a curt nod.
"Good. So we're on the same page."
This time, Soundwave didn't respond with a gesture.
"Do not misunderstand, Soundwave. I only mean to encourage those to fight back against the hierarchies that plague society, or am I wrong for seeking justice these Gladiators clearly deserve?"
Soundwave, although wary of the Gladiator's eloquent words, knew that he had a point. Freedom was not free and not everybody deserved it. Some had yet to earn it.
"I'm sure if your femme were here, she'd agree with me." Soundwave sensed Megatronus' condescending tone, and he didn't like it.
Ha ha! Done. Something for you readers to enjoy after having to wait for so long. Thank you for compliments.
Until next time.