A/N: It is chapter 10 my readers! 10. I hear wonderful feedback and I'm just inspired to write more! That and a certain reader has challenged my capability to update soon. Well, I have :)
I would have done so even sooner, but I have not finished re-watching G1. Dedicated to you all readers: the new ones and those who put up with me slacking with updates. Enjoy.
Acumen- quickness and keenness of judgment or insight
Chapter 10
The mech attempted to stay put in the designated area. He had been instructed there, but enduring the simple task was becoming difficult with each passing klik. His surroundings were a tad intimidating and its inhabitants radiated with unfathomable strength. He had already seen a few Gladiators pass by, as was expected since he was in the Pits. Some of them didn't pay him mind while others only glanced at him. They couldn't fool him, though. He could somehow feel their rage towards him, regardless if it was expressed aloud or not.
The mech knew of their hate, but he didn't blame them; society had caused them to react in such a way to bots like him.
For the moment, he could sympathize with the Gladiators, but he had the feeling wasn't returned. It was best not speak to any of the mechs, regardless of his thoughts. They had weapons and he didn't, they had a much shorter temper, and he only had words at his disposal.
That didn't mean his only weapon wouldn't come stab him in the back, all he had to do was say the wrong words and things would go awry.
In conclusion, he didn't speak to them. The most he did was return the occasional nod. The mech understood not to interact with the Gladiators considering they were capable of killing him.
Many of his caste wouldn't have even considered coming to Kaon as a joke, much less defenseless and without company. Anyone would consider him foolish for his stunt. But this mech wasn't like many; he hadn't cowered when traveling from his home, Iacon, to the dangerous city of Kaon.
He frequently visited the city so at least he had some experience on his side. Small or not, it counted. Experience, however, only went so far.
He never bothered with Gladiator fights, instead finding them too intense and cruel. They weren't technically illegal, that is, if the owners could prove that they weren't treating the bots with any cruelty. More times than not, energon coins were involved in keeping the silence among them.
These thoughts were certainly not helping him overcome his current concern. The mech began growing more nervous. His friend seemed to be taking his sweet time in appearing.
True, he was a punctual bot, and he had even taken the liberty to arrive earlier than instructed, but it didn't seem to help him in his case. In other words, it had been a complete mistake. It turned out that Gladiators were not punctual, and he was the one who had to pay the small price for it. At least he knew that he had tried, and effort was key.
The mech's blue optics roamed around the area, taking note of the conditions. It was a wonderful way to relieve himself of his thoughts. Perhaps if he recited facts to himself, it wouldn't seem as intimidating.
He thought for a moment. This is one of the largest arenas in Kaon. About 200 to 300 mechs inhabited the area. The owners made an immense profit... the mech stopped to look around.
It wasn't the datapads that told him that the conditions were below average. Surely, with the amount of currency the owners made, they could afford something more stable. The only reason the mech could think of was that they didn't feel obligated to lift a finger. He didn't live there, but even so, he didn't approve of the carelessness.
The blue-optic mech couldn't do anything about it; it was him going against something that had been going on for vorns. This was a sport to many in Kaon, and this was how they earned their living. His friend had explained such things, but he was still curious. The blue mech wanted to know everything if that was possible, but it seemed to be a touchy subject for his friend, therefore he didn't push any further.
After standing in the same place for a few kliks, his pedes slightly shifted.
Speaking of his friend, why hadn't he appeared yet? The mech leaned on the wall, knowing he would have to be even more patient with his friend. He wasn't sure what was keeping him, but he would wait, seeing as there not much else to do. He was sure his friend had a valid reason, he always did.
The mech regained his posture when his audio receptors picked up on the pedesteps coming his way. He positions his hands behind his back as he stared at the wall in front of him. This was the only position that helped him relax without seeming ridiculous.
The steps seemed to slow down as they neared him. The mech was beginning to wonder if it was his friend who was finally joining him. Though, the pedesteps were softer than the thundering ones his friend usually made. His question finally received an answer when his optics were able to detect another mech's presence. He suddenly realized his mistake when he discovered that the bot was actually a femme.
Her red optics only momentarily glanced at him before looking away. She turned around at first, taking a few moments to observe before she faced his direction. The femme advanced forward, not paying him any mind. Her helm turned and optics roamed the area.
It was as if she was seeking someone out. Unlike the others that had come by, she didn't immediately leave.
Though, her presence didn't necessarily mean that she was comfortable, on the contrary, her posture gave him the idea that she was wary of him. He was aware of her skittering steps and skittish movements.
It took a few kliks before she eventually stopped at a distance from him. He didn't exactly have a strong intuition, but even he could see the way her optics flickered and fingers—make that claws— seemed to twitch. Her behavior almost surprised him. He was anything but hostile. The mech really didn't want to make her nervous; he didn't enjoy watching her anxiety.
He turned in her direction, simply staring until he was sure her attention was on him. As planned, she eventually did take notice of him. Their optics met and the mech mustered up the warmest smile he could. This action caught the femme off guard and she suddenly looked away, either in surprise or indifference, he couldn't tell.
The mech decided that perhaps speaking to her would ease her nerves.
"Are you looking for someone?" he questioned. His voice immediately caught her attention faster than his staring did. Her red optics were wide, but as they turned to him, they narrowed. The femme eyed him, as if skeptical of his intentions. He had made sure that his posture looked as non-threatening as he could make it.
His own blue optics observed the bot before him. The femme looked young. He was familiar with young bots' behavior; he wouldn't want to give her any wrong idea. This encouraged him to be more careful.
"Yes I am..." she replied slowly. He was careful to keep the distance between them, knowing that it could easily set her off.
"It's probably a coincidence that I am too," he said nodding. Her optic ridges furrowed.
"You're here for official purposes?" she asked.
"That is somewhat true," the mech said. While he was also there to see his friend, their meeting also had a purpose.
"You're waiting for the owners," she assumed. He shook his helm.
"I am here for a friend of mine. He is a Gladiator," the mech replied.
"Oh," was her response. A few moments of silence followed before she made any intentions of speaking to him again.
"You're not from around here, correct?" she inferred.
"You are correct," he stated. The mech saw no harm in the femme, but rather curiosity. Her optics studied him as if attempting to gather information. The mech didn't mind, simply looking at him wouldn't give her much info.
Seeing no harm in doing so, the mech took the next step and decided to introduce himself.
"My name is Orion," he stated, extending an arm. She looked down at it for a moment. Her optics drifted from his faceplates, to his arm, down to his servo.
"Darkstrike," she replied, grasping his servo. Orion smiled at her. It was a good start, seeing as her insistent movement had ceased. Although she still didn't seem too keen on speaking, Orion continued with harmless questions.
"I assume you're also waiting for someone," he said. Mentioning it caused a slight tint of blue on the femme's faceplates.
"Yeah..." she trailed off.
"Are you also here for business purposes?" Orion questioned.
"Yes," Darkstrike immediately responded. The answer seemed a bit too quick to be true, but Orion wouldn't interject. He preferred not to think the worst of bots. It would be the same with this young femme.
"Is he a Gladiator as well?" he asked. Her optics widened at him.
"Um... yes, but don't misinterpret. It's the type of business that will lead to my success."
"Rest assured, I was not going to jump to conclusions," he said. She slightly smiled and opened her mouth, as if about to say something herself. However, she quickly silenced herself, the words seeming to die on her vocalizer.
"It was nice to meet you, Orion, but it looks like my waiting is over," Darkstrike said.
"You're leaving?" he asked. He hoped he hadn't said anything wrong.
"Yes, I see the bot who I was waiting for," the femme replied.
"Then I won't keep you waiting. I wish you luck. I hope to encounter again, Darkstrike." He smiled at her. She nodded as a final goodbye before rushing ahead.
Intrigued, Orion didn't stop himself from following the femme's steps. Not far from him, she had met up with a mech he didn't recognize. Seeing as it was not his business, he returned to the same place he had been waiting for his friend.
The company had been refreshing while it lasted.
"It seems you've made a friend while I was gone."
The sudden voice was enough to make him jump in disconcert. His blue optics turned to his left, confirming that it was his friend who'd caused him to jolt. The large powerful mech stood above him, a face reflecting his amusement.
"Megatronus," Orion said.
"I'm glad you talked to someone," the Gladiator remarked. Orion didn't take his friend's light banter seriously.
"You instructed me not to speak with anybot," he said. Megatronus gave a light shrug.
"I've said a lot of things." he replied.
"Yes, but you were specific this time."
"Yet you still became acquainted with Darkstrike," he responded. Orion completely turned towards his friend.
"You know who she is?" the smaller mech asked.
"Yes, I've seen some of her fights. She's an impressive thing," Megatronus dimly replied.
"She is a Gladiator?" Orion questioned unable to hide his slight shock, "She seems so young still."
"A lot of them are young," Megatronus said. Orion detected that the other mech was resentful. He had wanted to gain information from him yes, but even Orion had limits. He didn't want to pester the larger mech more than he already did. They were better off leaving the subject alone.
"Let's go, I remember you were the one jumping eagerly to show me something?"
Orion nodded. "I found the information you were searching for."
Darkstrike slightly glanced back at Orion before shrugging him off. She had already suspected his origins of a higher caste simply on his appearance. His armor was shiny, his stance was tall, optics a shiny blue, not to say some Gladiators didn't have blue optics. Yet Orion had worn something other mechs didn't: a friendly smile. She never could distinguish which ones were genuine, causing her to trust the wrong bots. Orion, on the other servo, had seemed harmless. His words weren't threatening or leering. The mech had willingly begun a conversation with her, even knowing that he was probably above her. Not to mention his friend was a Gladiator as well. Then again, he might have been lying...
She wasn't all that keen on talking to him even if he was behaving quite polite to her. The femme didn't see wrong in answering them only because his questions were more inquiring than forcing.
Psh, I reveal more to mechs like Swindle and Magnesium and they ask a lot meaner than Orion.
Darkstrike wasn't accustomed to mechs without intentions, even in her previous caste, which was why she held some distrust towards Orion. He held sincerity Darkstrike couldn't be sure of. The mech actually seemed honest, but Darkstrike was still uncertain. The femme wasn't sure if they would meet again, but it had been an interesting conversation.
Soundwave, for the most part, hadn't commented, not that he spoke much anyways. This was understandable, Darkstrike hadn't expected him to care who she acquainted herself with. (Though she was sure that the telepath knew more than he let on.) She was perfectly okay with the fact, Darkstrike tried not to intrude in Soundwave's business either.
The silence between her and the mech lasted up to the moment they arrived at the designated area. It was the same place where they had sparred yesterday, with the exception that today, Darkstrike was determined not to offline embarrassingly. It would be less of an inconvenience for both bots.
The more she could endure, the less he had to heal her again. It wasn't that Darkstrike minded what he did, but if such a situation occurred again—which the femme doubted, it would be nice if Darkstrike was online before she was stripped of her armor.
A familiar cold gaze was enough to grab her attention. Maybe it's just the visor.
Soundwave motioned her in his direction. She walked over to him, unsure what exactly he was going to do, not that she ever really knew.
Her question was answered when he abruptly threw a punch at her. It was so sudden, Darkstrike wasn't able to register the movement quick enough to dodge it. However, before his fist could smash against her faceplates, he stopped. Her optics had involuntarily closed. When the impact never came, the red orbs opened.
His fist hadn't moved, but neither had she, too shocked with what had happened, or rather what had almost happened.
"Reflexes require improvement," he stated.
Darkstrike finally reacted and did the only sensible thing that came to mind: to move out of the way. She scurried away, sighing in relief. It took a moment to compose herself.
Her optics drifted towards his reflective visor. "So you want me to practice my reflexes," she deduced. Soundwave's response was violence, as he aimed another well-calibrated attack towards her side. His servo successfully made contact with its target, causing to her to stumble and try to balance herself.
"Affirmative."
That little slagger.
He was going to help her practice her reflexes, Darkstrike realized. "Am I allowed to hit back?" she asked. A simple shake of his helm was his response.
Damn, he really isn't making this easy for me, is he?
Soundwave made the first move, slightly startling Darkstrike.
So began another journey of eventually lying in berth withering in pain.
Darkstrike did give him credit for beginning with simple moves. She assumed they were simple, not that she was completely aware of his attacks.
First began the attacks aimed at her weakest area: her sides. This was a section of her frame where her protoform was exposed. She should have assumed that this was the part of her most likely to be aimed at in a real fight. Darkstrike knew that her opponent would seek out the most vulnerable parts of her, somewhat like Soundwave was doing. This was her encouragement to prevent her opponent from taking any fatal hits in such regions.
Despite how aware she claimed to be, Soundwave still took clear hits at her, his precision sharp enough to slice her in half.
Soundwave resumed, swinging his arm in her direction. Darkstrike stepped back before being backhanded. The femme looked away for a moment. She realized this mistake when Soundwave kicked her down. The femme's aft met the floor, unfortunately not for the first time. The mech halted, giving her enough time to compose herself. Darkstrike sighed in frustration before standing up on her pedes.
"Two opponents: Requiring more attention," he said. In the back of her mind, she understood exactly what he was saying, but she didn't want to accept it. Fighting two mechs meant more awareness. How in Primus' sake was she supposed to be aware of two mechs when she could hardly do so with this one.
"Task: requires undivided attention," he spoke again. Her optics slightly twitched.
"All of my attention is on you," she said in defense. Her words could have easily been placed out of context to mean something else, but Darkstrike ignored this.
Soundwave pointed towards her helm. "Mind: Not honed."
"How do you know that?" she asked. Her tone seemed to have quieted when she realized the answer to her own question. Was he purposely listening to her thoughts? It was hard to tell when he revealed nothing. The flier turned away from him, slightly growling, unsure whether because of him or herself.
Darkstrike abruptly registered a pain emanating from her backstruts. She yelled out in pain and turned around, only to see Soundwave standing there calmly. A tendril extended from her body. Her optics narrowed in a glare, despite knowing he would ignore it. The femme was beginning to suspect he was purposely trying to anger her.
"Never turn back on opponents," Soundwave replied.
The stubborn femme didn't want to listen to him, not in the way he was teaching her, but she knew that each hit he took was another lesson to stay alert. It was time to gain as much knowledge as she could from the mech who was willing to teach her, despite his methods.
Darkstrike knew she had the tendency to let her mind roam freely, but in combat, the femme would have to prevent this if she wanted minimal damage. She exhaled to calm herself.
"Understood," she stated.
"Concentrate on movements only," he said. For once, he voiced a suggestion that didn't insult her at the same time.
Her optics looked at the two long tendrils that had extended from his body. They seemed to go for miles. They were dark with violet biolights circling throughout the whole length. The ends were sharp, meant for grabbing things. Darkstrike had never seen any Cybertronian with this frame design. Soundwave never really unsheathed his tendrils in front of her, and Darkstrike couldn't help but marvel the potential danger.
Much to her relief, he began with simple tactics again. The tendrils retreated to his frame. Darkstrike looked at his long arms, knowing that they could reach far if he wanted to.
Okay, so she was focused on him, that was a start. Her audio receptors had tuned up, making sure her processor was no longer bombarded with trivial emotions.
He struck her left, but it had collided with her forearm's defense. Her optics looked to her right. The wind indicated some type of movement. It was all happening so quickly that if Darkstrike hadn't been in a right mind, she could have been overwhelmed by it. However, she was honed, and she was able to detect it. Without missing a beat, she stepped back, narrowly dodging the blow.
It took a moment for the femme to realized that she was unscathed. Her optics widened, yet she fought the urge to smile in triumph. They weren't finished. Darkstrike soon sensed more movements, which only meant that Soundwave wasn't done.
A New Cycle
Once being able to hone her reflexes, defense became relatively quick to learn. It was no surprise that Soundwave had wanted her to learn more attacks in the same cycle. Darkstrike was willing to endure what he thought she was capable of. She hadn't dropped down yet, but she had already danced on the fine line of her limits.
Today, the femme would be the one throwing the punches and Soundwave would be the one dodging them. In theory, it seemed like an easy exercise since she wouldn't have to be avoiding those deadly blows. Be as it may, Darkstrike discovered that if the mech had another talent it would be steering clear of her own punches.
It was becoming increasingly frustrating watching the mech dodge or receive her combat painlessly. He seemed to be doing it with ease. It was like aiming at a target a disappearing target. She tried to remain focused on Soundwave, but Primus, this mech seemed to be everywhere.
It vexed her so much, Darkstrike began erratically throwing punches, only for them to successfully hit the air.
"How am I supposed to hit you if you keep moving?" she stubbornly growled. Soundwave looked at her.
"Predict Soundwave's movements," he said. There were many possibilities to where he could move, how was she supposed to determine his final actions? "Always expect movement," Soundwave stated.
"Understood," she replied.
So, it began again.
Her hits were either dodged or blocked, and the ones that did reach him were weak. Darkstrike didn't understand why she wasn't delivering blows like she should. He had told her to expect movement, but that was like telling her to expect the unpredictable. Where and when he would dodge Darkstrike's attacks were beyond her.
Darkstrike could feel the movement when something was attacking her, but it was difficult doing so when being the attacker. Her exasperation began to become obvious and Soundwave stopped moving to get her attention. He easily caught the flimsy punch she threw at him.
"Your movements are limited. Use other strategies, excluding claws," he said.
"Understood," she replied. He distanced himself from her.
For the first time that cycle, she understood. Darkstrike had been limiting herself to only throwing punches. The femme had plenty of other limbs to use and other strategies to perform. Soundwave had warned her about using her claws so for now, that would remain taboo.
She threw a punch, but wasn't angry when it was blocked by Soundwave, as she had already suspected this. Shifting quickly, Darkstrike extended her leg to strike his arm with her pede. She heard the metal collide like music in her audio receptors. Soundwave was pushed back from the force.
As the last occasion, Darkstrike refrained from celebration, knowing Soundwave wouldn't cease just yet.
A New Cycle
Soundwave had decided it was the perfect opportunity to test her speed, agility, and strength at the same time. It was also a refreshing change of scenery since the mech had decided train outside. He had also chosen to practice at night so that they were less likely to be seen. Darkstrike was none too happy about this, yet like many other times, she had complied. Of course, she had emitted the occasional grumble and complain.
Today, her instructions were to push a giant metallic structure as quickly as she could. In her processor, the femme had actually thought it to be an effortless task, but oh no, life just had to laugh at her.
Along with pushing it, Soundwave would also be throwing scrap and surprise attacking her the whole time. Darkstrike was allowed to stop when she had finishing lugging the big piece of metal to its assigned destination.
She released the growl, using all her strength to pull the large metal. Considering she lacked brawn, Darkstrike was only able to move it intervals at a time. Detecting movement, the femme jumped atop of the metal and flipped backward so that she could avoid his tendrils.
When Soundwave had initially revealed them, Darkstrike had been fascinated in the way the two long appendages glowed and extended.
Needless to say, her opinion had changed since then.
Her arms began to shake at the amount of force she willed herself to use. The femme's pedes dug into the ground as she pushed forward. Her breaths were quick as the center of her frame extended. She was reminded her that her arms weren't the only ones taking the toll.
Darkstrike was suddenly shoved to her aft. She was beginning rethinking her appeal to those treacherous tendrils.
The femme threw a glare at Soundwave. She regretted this immediately because he didn't seem to appreciate her sincere expression. When she had stood up, the mech doubled his efforts to knock her down, much to her chagrin. Darkstrike feared that if she wasn't quick enough, those things would wrap around her and squeeze her until her plating disassembled.
Each time the femme advanced, the metal seemed to become much heavier. Darkstrike had to lug the thing with her whole upper body if she wanted to finish soon. Again, his tendril began snaking away towards her. She lowered her helm, her optics catching sight of it. She leaned on the metal to jump over Soundwave's appendage.
Darkstrike was so close. Her cooling fans were on high and she was about ready to finish. Her pedes began impatiently kicking the large object multiple times. Her frame quivered from how weary she was and how close she was to falling in defeat.
Mustering up any residue strength, Darkstrike spun and booted the metal to its marked finish line.
She looked over at Soundwave and saw his tendrils retract into his frame.
At last! This time, Soundwave was done. There was no more, and she could feel accomplished.
Darkstrike tumbled to the ground, landing on her front side. The femme hadn't offlined, but she had dropped down from exhaustion. The ground felt warm while she pressed against it, comforting her aching joints. She was so preoccupied in resting that her celebration was delayed, yet again.
A New Cycle
Soundwave knew about the ability of her claws, but he prevented her from using them against him, especially during their spars. Darkstrike heeded his warning because she knew that the consequences wouldn't be too pretty if she ignored him.
Many times, she had to bite her glossa because her complaints had become a bad habit of hers. Soundwave didn't like them and he wasn't stupid, so remarking behind his back wasn't an option.
The femme also feared he would wrap his tendrils around her and that wouldn't be pleasant.
So, today's spar would not involve her claws, unfortunately. It was a one on one fight involving the use of weapons. They had already practiced with weapons, but this was the final step to complete her training. This cycle would involve everything she had learned, meaning Soundwave would have access to everything as well.
... And it turned out Soundwave was good with a sword too.
Frag, was there anything this mech isn't good at?
The femme would never repeat this out loud, or even in her mind, but that mech definitely had the Gladiator experience most would envy. Soundwave... well... he was everything she strived to be. If anyone found that out, Darkstrike wasn't sure what she would do. The mech already thought himself superior enough, no need to encourage it.
In all, her role model was a Gladiator.
Figures...
Well, on the bright side, who could say that they've sparred with their role model? Even though Darkstrike didn't really know what they were doing anymore. They were supposed to be sparring, and of all times she had expected to go hard on her... he didn't really. It had been actually somewhat confusing.
The metal of their swords collided perfectly and small sparks cascaded on her armor. It was a standard procedure: Soundwave immediately took the advantage and they would continue from there. Darkstrike didn't expect anything different, he could overpower her when he wanted. In spite of this, he had drawn out the spar, preserving every klik of it.
Defeat was inevitable but she would hold her ground for as long as possible.
Though Soundwave and her weren't even sparring anymore, it seemed. She usually gained damage during training, knowing how Soundwave was. Darkstrike was actually making similarities to them dancing, as bewildering as it may seem. Having the upper hand meant he was the one leading. Darkstrike was the one reacting and following.
When his sword struck, she defended herself, preventing him from leaving a mark. Soundwave attempted another angle, but Darkstrike was quick to discover the attack. It was almost erratic the way they were moving. The femme traveled with him, fearing that if she created distance he would trip her. Her arms endured as she swung left, right, below, and above. It was almost a test to see who could keep up the dance and who would succumb to failure. Both bots continued to synchronize their attacks, always moving together. Darkstrike was aware that Soundwave had missed opportunities to wound her.
Soundwave swung forcibly, causing her to stumble. Darkstrike rolled to her side and stood on her pedes quickly, ready to counter attack any move. He swung again. She had accounted for everything.
Except for her sword breaking.
She cursed aloud. The femme stood in a battle stance, nervously clutching the end of the remaining sword. Soundwave stopped, interrupting their dance -er spar. The black reflection of his visor turned to his sword. Much to her shock, the mech made the valiant decision to drop it.
The metal dramatically landed on the ground with a loud clank. Soundwave stood in position, and their spar resumed. Not too long after, the dance-like movements returned, adjusting to their new combat style.
Darkstrike was sure that in the end, there would be slight energon, dented armor, a damaged protoform, and an aching frame. Her sword was the one to take the hit before, now it was her to take the damage. It was now starting to seem like their usual spars.
Their fight had consisted of multiple punches, very good defense, and fancy moves such as flips and spins. As Darkstrike said before, she had no idea what they were doing.
Why am I enjoying it?
Soundwave suddenly broke the rhythm they had created. His servo latched on to her wrist, spinning her in a flurry of movements. He finished off by slamming her onto the ground. He pinned her there, his lithe fingers on either side of her wrists. Their proximity was so close, their frames were practically flush together. There was no getting out of this hold anymore, Darkstrike had lost, and their spar came to an end.
The femme vented in and out, her chassis moving against Soundwave's. Their sparks were dangerously close to one another, causing a pleasant reaction on both ends. Her white faceplates glistened with blue and her mouth curled into an excited smile. Darkstrike's aching body welcomed the alleviation the ground provided. The energon inside of her steamed as a result of her exhilaration. She was so enraptured in the moment, she almost forgot how long the mech had been on top of her.
The smile remained permanently glued to her faceplates even as she realized the searing contact. Despite being dominated by the more experienced Gladiator, she beamed brightly. Darkstrike was very pleased with herself. Her blush deepened further just as the color deepened in her optics. Looking up at Soundwave only meant looking up at her reflection.
The femme audaciously winked at him. Soundwave released her wrists, servos drifting towards her chin while the other settled on her abdomen. His thumb held her chin before he shook her helm roughly for a few nano-kliks. The other servo was a little too grabby on her exposed protoform. But the feeling wasn't unpleasant. The action caused her optics to close. Her smile never faded. The excitement of finishing her training was too great.
She wondered if it were from the rush she was feeling or the wonderfully overwhelming moment, but she had almost instinctively latched onto whatever piece of Soundwave she could find. Her claws dug into his armor, causing him to freeze.
His fingers tightened, causing an unwanted gasp from the body underneath him. Soundwave tilted the femme's chin towards him and he looked directly at her in all his intimidating silence, almost as if reminding her she was pushing her luck.
She removed those deadly appendages from his frame, unable to process that she had had the audacity to do that.
Soundwave immediately stood up, while Darkstrike continued to enjoy the pleasant buzz her systems made. The mech watched as the femme lazily lounged on the floor. Her arms and legs were sprawled out in a casual fashion and her optics looked up at the ceiling.
"This is the last cycle of my training. My battle is tomorrow," she stated. Both of them already knew that, though. Lanyard had been the one to bestow upon the wonderful news.
Soundwave didn't respond.
"I want to thank you, Soundwave, for whatever reason you helped me." Darkstrike wasn't sure how to display gratitude towards the usually indifferent mech. He looked at her, and chances were that he would stay silent or say something that would intentionally insult her. In fear of getting rejected like most times, her lips didn't utter more. Instead, she changed the subject in hopes to alleviate the sappy and awkward mood.
"Anyways," she began, "I'm assuming this means you believe I have a chance on beating two mechs?" Darkstrike questioned aloud. Her optics slowly landed on the mech, eager of his response.
She initially thought his response would nothing at all, knowing that many times that was the case. The mech had graced her with a simple nod.
"You would be the only," she shrugged, "Not that it matters." The femme had tried to hide her dismay at the fact, but she knew Soundwave had sensed it anyways. Darkstrike closed her optics, knowing that she was very easy to read, especially for an intelligent mech like him.
Seeing as he chose silence as his answer, she resumed voicing what was on her mind.
"Have you ever battled against two mechs?" she inquired.
"..."
Her optics opened to see if she had missed any subtle gesture and it turned out that she hadn't.
"Question: irrelevant. Inquiries: useless," he responded. Darkstrike gave him a sidelong glance before furrowing her optic ridges.
"Oh..." she mumbled. Darkstrike admitted she did feel foolish and a bit embarrassed that she had thought this had been a good idea. The handful of mechs Darkstrike knew had always been quite talkative, always bragging about their accomplishments when given the chance.
Then again, Soundwave wasn't like the other mechs. It seemed like she had to keep reminding herself this. The femme visibly deflated and her smile had lowered.
She watched him as he walked around her to retrieve his sword. It seemed he had put some distance between them.
Funny, he wasn't doing that earlier.
True, her question wasn't important and she could have lived the rest of her life without knowing the response to it, but the way Soundwave simply brushed it off as trivial was just insulting. It almost offended her how quickly he did so. She had known him since literally her first day there. They weren't what one would call best friends, but it counted for something.
What did you expect, to be holding hands and skipping through the corridors?
She glared at the ceiling. She wasn't expecting spark-bonding, but at least a word from him would be sufficient for her. What did it matter if she asked a stupid question anyways? It wasn't as if he'd reveal his whole life with answering it.
Attempting to be slick, she asked him again. It wasn't like she had anything to lose. "Did you win?"
Soundwave didn't say anything at first. Her words lingered as if she hadn't even said a word. He finally spared her a glance. He acknowledged her, as if simply to humor her he responded, "Affirmative."
Darkstrike's smile returned as she lied in the blissful silence. Soundwave hadn't made a move to leave, staying to polish his sword, and the femme hadn't stood up, feeling wonderful with not even Soundwave ruining her mood. Darkstrike wasn't sure if it was the same for him, but she enjoyed his company. After feeling alone for vorns, even back then, while she had been in her home city as well, it was welcoming feeling the presence of another Cybertronian.
Swindle looked down at his coins, counting them individually to make sure it was all there. It was a tedious task but the purple-optic mech had grown fond of it. The action eased his nerves.
At times, he really needed something to placate himself. The salesmech ran a precise business, having the strong reputation of being in possession of everything. This background information only encouraged the mechs to buy more from him. Swindle was efficient and having a sharp glossa certainly helped.
However, running the business was a lot of work.
He was intelligent, knowing when to go for the grab and when the opportunity was right. If he hadn't been this cunning, his was doomed for failure, and Swindle did not accept defeat. He had one of the most successful business out there, not only trading items, but information as well. The amount of mechs and femmes he knew definitely promised a good deal of secrets from then and there.
He had a lot of power overall, especially since their planet was one dominated by corrupt mechs. He dealt with them on a daily basis meaning he knew how to mangle with them. All Swindle had to do was say the right things.
"Battlesmash!" he called out towards his business partner. The mech perked up, signaling that he had his attention. "Do you have everything packed to go into the city?"
"We don't go till three cycles from today," said mech responded.
"Well you're standing there doing nothing, I assumed you had done at least something," Swindle's voice held a perfect blend of mock and sarcasm. His unusual optics narrowed at the other mech. Battlesmash grumbled and stood up, dusting himself off. The salesmech shook his helm before turning towards his other apprentice.
Drixco eagerly looked down at his datapad, drool almost coming out of his mouth. Swindle didn't even have to guess what he was probably looking at. He deadpanned and strolled over towards the unsuspecting mech. Swindle allowed a few moments of joy for his smaller apprentice. A few raspy chuckles escaped Drixco's vocals before Swindle quickly snatched up the datapad. The apprentice jumped in the air at the intrusion.
He turned to glare at the attacker but dropped the gesture when he saw it was Swindle.
"Hey, boss..." Drixco sheepishly smiled. Swindle gave him a look to show he was unimpressed. The salesmech took a look at the datapad only to see provocative images. He raised an optic ridge narrowing his optics at such pictures.
"Where did you-never mind," he said, preferring not to ask the origins of the datapad, "Have you located the femme?"
Drixco looked at him in confusion making Swindle roll his optics.
"The seeker," he clarified.
"Ohhh... that. Battlesmash said he'd do it," Drixco shrugged. The other mech seemed to hear his statement and jumped up in defense.
"Hey! I'm the one packing this slag, why don't you do something for once, Glitch?" Battlesmash retorted. The apprentice bristled and glared at the larger bot.
"He has a point," interrupted Swindle. Drixco's optics widened in offense.
"I do plenty of things around here!" he exclaimed. Swindle and Battlesmash exchanged glances before breaking out in laughter. The salesmech discarded of the datapad, too preoccupied in the humor they found in Drixco's words.
"You do about as much as what that wall does," Swindle pointed.
"Well if you don't appreciate what I do, then why don't you call in your ol' pal Blast Off?" Drixco asked. The mention of the name caused Swindle to scowl. The smaller apprentice recoiled realizing he had made his boss angry.
"Maybe I will. His ego may be larger than yours, but at least he's useful," Swindle said calmly, hints of passive-aggressiveness in his tone.
It was not the first time Drixco had slacked off and ruined business for him. Less business meant less money. But what really annoyed the usually calm Swindle, was the mention of Blast Off. He'd rather not speak with that mech, or Onslaught for that matter, but especially Blast Off. That snobby mech always came crying to him when he was lonely... Hmm, rivaled intelligence his aft.
"That's it for you then. I'd say it was a pleasure doing business with you... but... it wasn't," his tone was sly with slight amusement in it.
"What? You can't actually be serious?"
"I'm obligated to make decisions for the purpose of my own benefit." Swindle smirked. Drixco appeared baffled at the sudden turn of events. His optics were wide and his posture remained frozen. "No one knows that door better than you," he chuckled.
The ex-apprentice threw him a glare. Without taking his optics off him, much to Swindle's amusement, Drixco made a move to exit the room.
"He's not insulting you this time, that's refreashin'," Batttlesmash remarked in the corner, "He's not putting up much of a fight either."
Swindle nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms, "Less work for you, and more coins for me." Both of them shared a taunting laugh.
Just as Drixco rounded the corner, a certain femme happened to be entering at the same time. The femme somehow saw it coming, and immediately avoided collision with the mech. The fast movement was enough to startle Drixco.
The mech looked at her with wide optics. He seemed to recognize the "seeker" and he turned to Swindle, "Well there's the femme for ya!" he yelled.
Swindle read the look of confusion she wore as she entered.
"Am I interrupting?" Darkstrike asked.
Swindle plastered a smirk on his faceplates, allowing the femme to follow him. Purple optics met Battlesmash's red ones. He motioned towards the door, just in case the femme wanted to try anything funny.
"Darkstrike, I missed you," Swindle hummed behind the counter. He leaned on an arm, watching the femme. Darkstrike seemed to pick up on his tone and frowned.
"I doubt that," she stated. The arms dealer noticed the fresh wounds that decorated her frame. His optics searched her faceplates, and he became surprised at the lack of scar he had left her. It had been a while since he had given it to her and its intended purpose was for it to worsen.
"I want to remind you that I still intend to keep our bargain," she said.
"Is that so? I'm not seeing anything on you," Swindle remarked, arching an optic ridge.
"I'll have it to you by tomorrow," the femme stated, slightly grinning.
"Tomorrow?" he chuckled, "You seem so sure of it."
The femme leaned closer, her smile widening into a grin. "That's because I am."
"Well, you see, I'm not all too happy with late deliveries," Swindle stated. His tone was melodramatic, and he shook his head as if to scold her.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You owe me, not only a free ticket but for having me wait this long," he said, his tone growing even more dramatic.
"What... but-you can't be serious!" she exclaimed.
"Trust me, Sweetspark, you're not the first one to say that to me," He chuckled smoothly. She crossed her arms while glaring at him.
"What do you want now?" she sighed.
"Your fight is tomorrow, isn't it?" he questioned. Swindle was familiar with the battles that took place in the Pits. This femme had been the cause of some controversial conversations out in the city. The fight between a femme and two mechs was something to murmur about.
"Who told you?" Darkstrike questioned as if accusing him.
"Oh, I don't reveal my contacts that easily, but if you're curious... I'd be willing to share."
It wasn't what one would call top secret information. Anyone who knew the Pits was talking about this fight. Many were seeking entertainment from a good show, that's all it was.
"For a price..." she said.
"You speak my language," he grinned. She sighed unhappily. "Look, Sweetspark, it's not really a secret, sponsors have taken care of that."
"Yeah, I'm aware who was the doing that." the femme responded. Swindle's grin morphed into an obvious smirk. He slammed his servos hard on the counter, startling the femme. Darkstrike rushed back, as if avoiding the hit that would never come.
"So you know her?" he casually asked.
She crossed her arms, turning around so that her back, or rather her wings unceremoniously leaned on the counter.
"Does that spider come here often?" Darkstrike asked. By the sounds of it, there was distaste from her part.
"Do you mind, Airachnid?" he asked innocently. If she had been facing him, the femme would have been able to clearly see his amused smirk.
"You know her too? You must know everyone," the femme exclaimed, turning around once again.
"Oh, I know her alright..." he licked his lips as if to prove his claim. A shudder ran through Darkstrike. The other bot openly grimaced at him, arching an optic ridge.
"I—I..." a blush overcame her and her red optics drifted away.
"So about your fight." Swindle took a few steps back, letting the femme process his words and compose herself.
"Oh yeah, r-right..." she stuttered. Darkstrike stood up straight, her face turned in his direction whilst her optics met his.
"I want the weapon of one of the mechs you face. It's all the same to me if you win or not," he replied. Her optics didn't leave his. In situations like these, it was either a sign of respect or challenge.
"I'll have your ticket and the sword by tomorrow, after my fight."
"And if you don't?"
"I know what I'm doing," she said, determination and anger directed at him.
He closed his optics and grinned prominently. "Oh-ho, if you say so. I'm always willing to make another deal if you're unable to provide..."
Her claws touched her face before narrowing her optics warily. "It pains me to have to..." she stood silent, trying to find the right word to use, "decline."
"Offer still stands," he leered waving his servo in a convincing manner. The femme rattled her wings and gave a slight huff.
"I'm not as gullible as last time," Darkstrike stated triumphantly. Pleased with herself, she placed her servos on her hips. Her smile was proud and it seemed to amuse him more than it befuddled him.
"It seems that my mark is gone too. Not that I doubted your capabilities, Darkstrike," he said slyly. The femme visibly tensed.
"I'm capable of a lot, it's not that surprising," the femme replied. He had the feeling she was bluffing.
"Sure... You happened to have the right material I guess," he shrugged indifferently.
"Exactly," Darkstrike responded while giving a nod.
"I'm impressed you went to Kaon's central to get it," Swindle continued, appearing uninterested in the subject. When she didn't respond, his optics leisurely elevated towards her.
"I-... I'm not really sure how to accept your compliment..." she began, "But thanks. So excuse me, Swindle, I have to go prepare for my fight."
He shrugged and flashed her a smile.
"Come again soon. Hope to see you again as soon as tomorrow," he said. His purple optics were downcast at the glowing coins. Swindle resumed his counting, although he was completely aware the femme.
"Not like I have a choice..." she mumbled. Battlesmash moved away from the door, allowing the femme to depart. The larger mech looked at Swindle, and the arms dealer didn't have to look up to sense the other mech's confusion.
"Ey Boss, I thought you said you could only get that stuff in Iacon."
"I did."
"Then why'd you say Kaon's central?" Battlesmash asked.
"You see Battlesmash, I tend to remember most of my customers, and well, not all of them are satisfied with my business."
"What's that gotta do with anything?" the other mech asked. Swindle gave an exaggerated sigh at the other mech's denseness.
"That femme lied. She couldn't have fixed that herself, she didn't even know where to get the material," he said, "But, I happen to know a former customer who does. He happens to inhabit this very arena."
"Oh yeah? Who's that?"
"Well Soundwave, of course."
A/N: I did it! I finally updated people. I did it in a little over a week. Hopefully, you all like it because I had terrible writer's block right in the middle and I was left somewhat unhappy. But I made it long as an anniversary for the 10th chapter. It drains my energy, so I think I'll be sticking to 6-7K people.
But guess who I wrote about? Good ol' Orion.
Swindle reappears. (His personality is a sorta blend between G1 and Animated, for those who care...) That's it, and next update will be as soon as this one.