Either a match was taking place or she was extraordinarily lucky, as Elita didn't run into any walking tanks or armories on legs as she threaded her way to the gladiator suites. Every hall looked the same with grease stains on the walls and bolted doors leading to the warrior dens- she'd need all the luck left over on the planet to magically find Soundwave's one.

But Primus seemed to favour her today and sprinkle some extra good fortune on her path, leading her around a corner and almost straight into Soundwave's path. She only managed to stop herself colliding with him by spotting his peds first and angling her own legs back, forcing him to see her faceplate even as he glowered down at the obstruction (his visor was down, but Elita could almost feel his distaste burning through the glass).

He made no move to pass by her yet, hopefully still stunned with shock like herself. She was the first to recover from it, smiling weakly.

"Surprise."

Either the gladiator's vents were rusty, or the sound of her voice made him growl his displeasure. "I take back what I said past solar cycle. You are just as stupid as every other one of your kind."

Elita found herself scowling again. She'd probably end up with frown lines by the end of the day if she survived it. "You never said I wasn't stupid."

"What do you want." It was clearly more of a demand than a question.

"I want to speak with you." Elita tried not to think of how ridiculous she must have seemed- there were only two types of bots who sought the company of gladiators, those who wanted to frag them and those who wanted to fight them- but hopefully the absurdity of the situation would catch Soundwave off guard and work to her advantage.

At least, that was what she hoped before he shoved past her. "Not interested."

She was panicking now, if he wouldn't speak to her then her whole journey would have been a waste. She turned desperately on her heel. "Wait, wait, hear me out! I have... a proposition for you."

Soundwave actually paused and turned slightly, his visor sliding upwards to show a flash of one of those half smirks that Insecticons gave before meals. "I'm sure you're used to offering yourself to mechs, but I've already had my whore of the week."

Elita squashed the urge to slap him- as if she'd do any damage to that thick midnight hide anyway. "It's not like that," she insisted, scurrying around the corner to keep up with him. "Just... give me a chance to explain, please."

Again Soundwave halted, digits twitching by his sides, deliberating over her words. His stunted winglets heaved upwards as he sighed, a colossal sound coming deep from his systems, and he turned to a door on his right side. Splaying his digits on the rusted metal, he pushed it open and stared Elita down. "You have five klicks. I suggest you try to make use of them."

Elita tried not to remember how similar his warning sounded to his last words to her.

There was a strange warmth to Soundwave's quarters that she hadn't noticed before, enveloping her in a comfort that contrasted with her company. Without glancing at her, Soundwave made his way to his polishing table and pulled his sword down from a mounting above it, snatching a thin edge of metal from a pile by his side.

Trying to avoid looking at the sword's edge, Elita launched into her plea before he decided to berate her again. "I want to learn how... you move like that. Like how I saw yestercycle, I mean."

She didn't know what she expected his reaction to be, but he barely turned to acknowledge her. "You mean the 'dancing'?" he asked with a large dose of mockery. He shook metal shavings off his digits before going back to sharpening his sword.

Elita did the same to her own digits, only with coolant beading on them instead. "I don't just want to know how to dance. I... I want to know how to fight."

That managed to hook his attention, his servos pausing. He didn't turn, but she could hear a smirk in his voice when he spoke.

"And what might a harlot do with a sword, other than tear her mech's armour off more easily?"

The coolant on her frame evaporated as anger flushed through her. "Stop calling me that! I'm not..." To say she wasn't supposed to be one was an outright lie, yet the truth refused to come to her glossa.

Instead she let her indignation fuel her vocaliser. "There is nothing wrong with what I am or what I do. And what I am is not some pleasure bot to be thrown away when I'm broken!" Elita was about to snap her digit joints from how hard she clenched them, and Soundwave had resumed his work as if he wasn't even listening to her. She wouldn't let that stop her.

"You said yourself I'm... not like other femmes. You saw it in my optics, so don't pretend that I'm beneath you all of a sudden." Her breath came shaking through her air vents as her fans tried to cool her down.

"I think I know now... what you meant by survival-" Elita's words abruptly end with a shocked yelp as Soundwave suddenly grabbed his sword's hilt and swung it around, bringing its point to her neck cables with anger burning in his optics.

"You know nothing of that word." His usually monotone voice dripped with scorn and disgust as he slowly pulled his weapon away, letting Elita heft out trapped air cycles and rub at the shallow cuts on her neck wires.

"How many of your fellow whores have you had to kill for your energon?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer. "None. You flash your chestplates at any mech and have them sucking the stuff off your protoform five klicks later. The same mechs you spread your legs for are the very same who cheer for our deaths." His words were bitter growls, his frame taught and his optics ablaze with fury that threatened to blind Elita if she stared. She cowered back at his next smoldering snarl.

"Now ask yourself again... 'What is survival?'"

He was answered by the sharp, hollow ring of a bell tolling throughout the arena. Elita knew it was the summons of death.

Soundwave glanced behind her at the door with something else momentarily replacing his anger. If Elita was as foolish as he thought her, she might have said it was fear. His glare was less powerful now, but it still burned right through her. "Prove you know what it is by leaving before I return." He shoved past her again, and this time she didn't give resistance. She might have missed his last mutter if she wasn't petrified; "If I return."

Perhaps she didn't just imagine that flicker of fear after all.