Chapter 3
Darkstrike basked in the Cybertronians' loud cheering. She looked up at them and felt her spark beat faster. For once, she was being fully acknowledged. It had been a while since someone had praised her for her accomplishments. It took defeating a mech with nothing but her servos to earn others' approval. Darkstrike didn't like the fact, but she refused to let anybody take the moment away from her.
The speaker was quick to go by her side. He grabbed her arm and raised it in the air.
"Our champion today is Darkstrike!" the speaker yelled. Darkstrike pulled her arm back and grimaced at the pain. She held her side and watched as two mechs retrieved Plasmo from the ground. The femme looked down at him before turning her helm away.
There was no need for her to stay any longer. She was done entertaining them for the cycle.
She turned her back on the people. Darkstrike walked towards the door, trying not to limp in front of the audience. It was already understood that weakness was not permitted in the Gladiatorial Pits. The femme remained unfazed and only uttered a few winces as she reached the door.
When her eyes looked through the exit, volts of sudden pain shot through her. Her joints stiffened. She froze in her place, her optics widening in fear.
Soundwave stood there.
As unpredictable as Darkstrike's fight was, Soundwave had expected multiple outcomes. He taught himself to anticipate every situation. The femme was no exception.
Soundwave watched the fight, as did many other Gladiators. Even before the battle had begun, the mechs had already been arguing on who would get to keep the femme.
If it were up to Soundwave, he would observe from a different seat— further from the mechs. His seat choice was limited because the owners preferred them to stay away from their high caste clientele.
RocketShield had been particularly obnoxious about what he would do once the femme was his. The other middle-ranking mechs objected, but it didn't stop RocketShield's arrogance.
Soundwave was beginning to regret attending. A part of him knew that he shouldn't waste his time with such a mundane battle. Simply spectating cost him from his earnings. The owners made no exceptions. If the other Gladiators were interested in watching, they would have to pay too. Like the other mechs, he would have to make the most of the event.
His attention turned to the femme entering the arena. His optics focused on her. She gazed across the crowd of Cybertronians. He saw the femme visibly grimace at all of them.
His thoughts were interrupted when he sensed a new presence beside him. Soundwave turned his helm and saw the "mighty" Megatronus sit next to him. Soundwave's stare lingered a bit longer before it was directed towards the femme again. He didn't object or move away from Megatronus.
It was true; the silver mech was allowed to sit wherever he preferred, but Soundwave much preferred solitude. They had only spoken to each other twice since their match. Sensing that this was no coincidence, he made sure to keep his guard up.
"Interesting fight, wouldn't you say?" Megatronus asked.
Soundwave did reply at first. He wasn't fond of small talk. He always felt like Megatronus was trying to gather information from him.
He settled on nodding once.
"Who do you suspect will win?" the mech asked. Soundwave took a long look at Darkstrike and Plasmo. Megatronus seemed to follow his gaze.
Nothing surprised Soundwave. His inferences never led him wrong, he was sure they never would. To predict the outcome of the battle wouldn't be as simple, though. Soundwave had observed the femme's training, easily identifying her weaknesses. Among other things, she lacked strategy. All odds were against her; the chances of her winning seemed slim.
Soundwave raised his long arm and pointed his sharp finger at Darkstrike. Megatronus looked taken aback. He immediately turned to Soundwave in a questioning manner.
"The femme?" Megatronus asked loudly. Soundwave didn't hesitate when he nodded. He knew very well that his choice was very controversial, as well as foolish.
Soundwave had his reasons. His decision had been made.
Megatronus' loud voice seemed to have captured the attention of the medium-ranking mechs. They all turned their helms in their direction. Particularly, RocketShield stared at them. He carefully traveled closer to them.
"You are waging on the femme?" Megatronus asked in a surprised manner. Soundwave nodded again.
RocketShield stopped when he was in range.
"What is it I hear? Soundwave is betting?" RocketShield asked, a surprised smirk rising on his features. Soundwave wasn't surprised that the phrasing of Megatronus' word's made it seem he was betting with currency, especially for a mech as ignorant as RocketShield.
He didn't immediately respond, much to the other mech's annoyance. RocketShield radiated with contempt. It wasn't until the scene attracted the attention of more mechs that he decided to reply.
Soundwave slowly stood up. He refused to be looked down at, especially by such a lowly mech. RocketShield's optics widened slightly. He warily took a step back.
"Correct." His voice seemed to surprise the other mech. The other fighters began to murmur.
"How about a fair wager? Between all of us Gladiators?" RocketShield asked, regaining confidence. "All of us Gladiators" likely meant him and his small band of acquaintances.
Soundwave didn't respond, but neither did he back away. RocketShield took that as a sign to continue.
"Alright then. 50 credits to whoever's Cybertronian wins," he began, "We bet that Plasmo will win, right mechs?" the mechs behind RocketShield chuckled loudly in agreement.
"And you bet that the femme will win?" the smaller mech asked coyly. Soundwave stood still. He wasn't fond of gambling, especially with the conceited mech in his presence. He had nothing to prove. The high-ranker considered walking away.
His optics scanned his surroundings. Other fighters were staring. Soundwave weighed his options. It had been vorns since a low mech had challenged him in such a way. If they believed he was becoming weak, Soundwave would be quick to extinguish any rumors. Those mechs best learn or he would gladly demonstrate.
Soundwave almost scoffed; this whole debacle was a waste of time.
He nodded in response to the other mech's wager.
"So, it's only you betting on the femme?" RocketShield asked.
"No. I bet for the femme, as well."
Soundwave turned his helm in the direction of the voice. Megatronus walked towards them. Both high-ranking Gladiators seemed to easily loom over the middle-ranking mech. RocketShield's optics widened, and he turned to the mechs behind him. They all seemed to exchange glances.
RocketShield hesitantly turned back to them.
"So, it's a deal then. 50 credits from each mech," he said. He extended his servo out and Soundwave looked down at it.
"Affirmative." He ignored RocketShield's servo. Soundwave turned to take his seat again. Megatronus followed him back wordlessly. Both mechs sat beside each other.
"Megatronus' support: unnecessary," Soundwave spoke. There was a glint in Megatronus' optics. The large mech hid his expression and merely shrugged.
"I do not doubt your decision." Megatronus said, "If this femme has any self-preservation, she will prevail. I'm going to take pleasure in watching her struggle for victory."
Soundwave didn't say anything more, though he suspected that Megatronus had only wagered with him to gain his favor. The silver mech wanted his trust; however, Soundwave was not easily lured into a sense of security. Megatronus' intentions weren't as honest as he claimed them to be. Soundwave would remain attentive.
Once the speaker had finished his announcing, the battle commenced.
Soundwave had not taken his optics away from the fight for a klik.
His optics took in every movement, every drop of energon spilled, every kick and punch. Soundwave was satisfied with the knowledge he gained from watching. Darkstrike seemed to be making actual attempts, but it didn't seem to be enough.
She lacked experience.
That didn't seem to stop her. The femme had gotten a few solid hits, taking advantage of any shot she could take. There weren't many openings, but she took what she could.
As the fight continued, Darkstrike was caught off guard. She was brought down to the ground with a well-aimed punch. Energon leaked through her armor. He watched as the feeble femmebot struggled to stand. This was what one had to do to survive. It was finally sinking in for the femme.
His optics narrowed from behind his visor.
Plasmo raised his arms up, claiming victory. Soundwave could feel RocketShield's stare at him from behind.
Plasmo looked down at Darkstrike and uttered a few words. He couldn't make them out.
The femme's attempt to stand failed. She had no choice but to stay on the ground. She glared at Plasmo. Darkstrike heavily vented. Her optics closed. She seemed to be in deep thought.
She wasn't far from him.
Soundwave wanted to know what she was thinking, especially if this would be her last time in the arena.
He dared to break the rules and intervene. Soundwave made decisions based on rationality, yet there was no logical explanation for what he wanted to it.
Soundwave reached his mind out to her. Invisible tendrils attached themselves to the intangible depths of her mind. He invaded her with ease; all her barriers seemed to be down.
I ran away from assassinators to live. My life is worth something... But it is really worth fighting this hard to survive?
The high-ranker wouldn't allow her to accept defeat. She would stand and fight like a true Gladiator, even if it was only for him to win his wager with RocketShield.
"Stand," he whispered into her mind.
"Do not be pathetic. Stand."
This seemed to invoke a reaction from her.
He uttered one more taunt. "High castes are only good for one thing."
That was when Soundwave saw it for the second time. He saw the rage in the femme's optics. Even from the distance, he clearly sensed it. Her red orbs narrowed in a fierce glare. He saw the red enhance to a vivid crimson.
Darkstrike shakily stood up. She bared her denta and launched at him. Plasmo didn't seem to see it coming. Her battle cry wasn't enough to warn him as her pede slammed into his frame.
Metal slammed on metal once she struck at his faceplates. No doubt that there would be dents. The painful sound echoed throughout the arena, causing the cheering to die down. Many optics watched attentively.
There was the last sound of snapping metal from the mech's chassis. Before Plamso could fall to the ground, Darkstrike grabbed on to him. Soundwave had to lean forward to see clearer. The femme's claws dug deep through the mech's insides. Darkstrike looked straight at the mech as he coughed up energon. Some stained her face.
Her first taste of victory would be a bitter one on her glossa.
The mech soon fell down, his faceplates hitting the ground first. Small sparks of electricity emitted from Plasmo's protoform. The femme had done much more than impale her claws into him. Soundwave couldn't be sure what. He searched in his processor for any type of information.
Soundwave inspected her energon-stained claws. He noticed the dull glow it held. There were small sparks coming from the tips. He came to a couple of conclusions.
His thoughts were caught off as he heard the femme approach the fallen mech. The femme placed her pede over the mech's helm. This was a demonstration of dominance. Soundwave leaned back and watched with mild amusement.
The audience stared with shocked expressions. He turned his helm to look at RocketShield and the group of mechs. Their optic-ridges were raised high. RocketShield noticed Soundwave was staring and tried to compose himself.
The high-ranker helm turned back to the femme. She looked up at the crowd with a smirk. Once she raised a fist, the audience bombarded his audios with deafening roars.
Darkstrike had won.
She had a fighting spirit.
The femme had managed to exceed the very low expectations he had for her. This was good. Darkstrike had proved herself worthy of being able to defend her insignificant life, even if she had required a push. He decided that this was the last time he'd overextend for her.
The foolish femme had barely made it, but she held potential. So long as she knew how to harness it correctly, Darkstrike had a possibility to survive there. Not that Soundwave expected any more success from her. She was still a newcomer.
"E-excuse me, Soundwave."
He turned to the voice. A low-ranking mech stared at him expectantly.
"The owner Lanyard requires your services. He would like you to assist in the femme Darkstrike's upgrade."
Soundwave nodded. His ability to interact with another bot's processor meant he could alter armor to ensure a successful upgrade. The owners didn't question his ability, as long as he completed the job. The task had been assigned to him before; this wouldn't be any different.
He stood up. Megatronus gave him a nod and Soundwave idly returned it. He walked towards the door, pausing when he was near RocketShield.
The mech appeared unnerved. All of his comrades murmured in disbelief.
"Payment is expected today," Soundwave ordered. He was certain no mech would be bold enough to oppose him again. Before he left, he looked back to see RocketShield's faceplates.
Soundwave fought to keep his face devoid of a smirk.
Darkstrike turned her helm, her optics scanning for any possible passageways other than the one in front of her. Much to her dismay, there weren't.
She continued to slowly walk forward. Even in her fatigue, Darkstrike was wary of the tall mech.
Even as she neared him, Soundwave didn't seem to budge. He almost resembled a statue. The femme would have mistaken him for one if weren't for his unnerving presence.
She looked directly at his visor before averting her optics downward. He was only a few mechanometers away from her. She clutched her side tighter, unsure of what to do.
Soundwave's helm tilted her small movement. Darkstrike's optics widened.
She straightened herself out, fixing her posture so she appeared taller. Her faceplates shifted so it looked like she was unaffected by the pain.
"Follow," Soundwave's deep voice commanded.
Darkstrike's helm snapped up at him in bewilderment. Soundwave wordlessly began to walk ahead. She stumbled forward.
"W-why do I have to follow you?" the flier asked frantically. Soundwave didn't respond. He continued to walk forward. His pace was too quick; it was making her injuries ache. She hissed. The mech glanced at her before slowing down a bit.
Darkstrike bit her lip. How embarrassing! Showing weakness to a high-ranker. The femme already knew that doing so was a huge vulnerability. They already had a huge advantage over her.
Darkstrike stared up at him, attempting to decrypt him. She didn't understand what was happening. It probably wasn't the smartest idea to follow him without a reasonable explanation. She wondered if the owners had sent him to assist her like last time.
Her optics traveled up Soundwave's armor. His posture wasn't intimidating at the moment. As tired as she was, she certainly didn't mind having a view of his impressive frame. Darkstrike sheepishly looked away. Her injuries ached, reminding her of the fight she just won. She needed to be focused on that, not on the mech in front of her. She stayed quiet and hoped that Soundwave wouldn't be able to notice her ogling.
"Where are we going?" Darkstrike tentatively asked. She was speaking carefully. It wasn't every cycle she interacted with a high-ranker.
The taller mech regarded her with a side glance. "Follow. Owners' instruction."
Just as she had suspected, the owners had sent him. She wondered if all novice Gladiators received this type of treatment. The femme sighed in defeat. She was simply too tired to continue struggling. At that point, Darkstrike didn't care where he was taking her.
Okay... maybe she did care.
Soundwave lead her past several corridors until they reached a large door. He pushed the button next to it. He motioned for her to enter.
"Oil bath. 13 kliks," Soundwave said. That sounded like an order. She slowly entered, glancing at Soundwave. He remained silent. When the flier entered, the door behind her hissed shut.
After a klik of standing there in silence, she realized what he meant: Darkstrike only had 13 kliks to rid herself of filth before Soundwave opened the door. She didn't hesitate to turn the nozzle on.
The liquid ran down her frame, soothing her stiff posture. She melted into the bath. The energon filth washed down the drain. The dents didn't fade away, but at least Darkstrike didn't have any residue fluid. It would probably be more efficient if she'd take off all her armor.
That was not happening. In the short amount of time she had, Darkstrike would most likely get caught in her bare proto-form. Best that she enjoyed any short luxury she received. The soft sound of liquid running down her frame echoed in the silent room. Just as Darkstrike began to enjoy the warmth, the oil stopped running. Her optics opened.
She reached up to where the tube was. Her optics narrowed. Darkstrike was certainly in no mood for her bath to be cut off. Her claws gripped it. She shook it multiple times. Much to her anger, nothing came out. To her surprise, it broke in half. Darkstrike deadpanned. She glared at the piece in her servos. She harshly threw it on the ground, breaking it completely.
The door suddenly opened.
Darkstrike's optics widened. Her anger soon died down once she realized that Soundwave was staring at her. She realized her current predicament.
The femme looked down at the broken pieces on the floor. Soundwave glanced at it. The femme kicked the pieces away, making it less noticeable.
She sheepishly shrugged.
Soundwave's visor stared in her direction for a few kliks. Darkstrike shuffled and clenched her claws nervously. It was frightening how his lack of facial expression daunted her.
He began to turn away and walk. Darkstrike took this as a sign to follow. She stumbled and limped behind Soundwave. The tall mech didn't bother turning around to see if she was following.
Darkstrike sighed again. She was beginning to grow tired of his silence.
"Words are unnecessary. Keep following," Soundwave spoke.
Darkstrike recoiled back, her spark suddenly beating faster. She eyed him incredulously. He didn't bother to turn to her. The femme shook her helm. It was purely coincidental. Darkstrike settled on the fact that she wasn't that hard to read.
She gave another weary sigh. Darkstrike really needed recharge.
She looked up and realized that they were in another room. It was large, bright, and empty. She noticed there were restraints in the corner. Soundwave pointed at the metal berth. Darkstrike frantically turned to him. She began to back up, taking a defensive stance.
Clenching her servos, she looked at Soundwave with a determined expression. Darkstrike knew she would lose in a fight with Soundwave. She knew he was a high-ranking mech, and he could easily terminate her. Still, she'd fight with any strength she had left, even if it was little to none.
Soundwave seemed to stare at her blankly. He didn't seem alarmed at her sudden posture. The mech approached her slowly, menacingly. His size seemed to grow with every step he took. Darkstrike lost her confidence and flinched back into the wall.
She was soon cornered. Soundwave was only a small distance in front of her. She pressed further into the wall when Soundwave's helm neared her. Darkstrike was automatically reminded of the previous cycle when he had done the same thing.
He didn't touch her, though. As reassuring as that was, it didn't unnerve her any less.
The femme couldn't understand. If she had won, why was she in that room? Soundwave could've restrained her ages ago, especially in her state. She frantically searched her processor for clues.
Darkstrike held her ground and looked up at his visor. His aura was calm and focused. He wasn't attempting to engage in mindless violence. She sensed he wasn't a simple mech like RocketShield.
If the owner had sent him to prepare her for the brothel, Soundwave wouldn't be acting so nonchalant. She wondered why the owners had sent him in the first place.
More importantly, why is he pushing me into a corner?
"You are fearful," he said.
She felt the energon rush to her faceplates.
Darkstrike understood now; it was a challenge of intimidation. She had reacted defensively and this was him responding. The femme should've definitely evaluated the situation first before jumping to conclusions. She was sure he didn't take kindly to challengers.
Her gaze broke away for a klik.
Soundwave used a single finger to tilt her helm so that she was looking up at his visor again. Darkstrike's optics widened.
His sharp finger remained on her chin.
Physical contact from him baffled Darkstrike, even if it was just a finger.
Soundwave sparred with no one. Rumor was that the last bot that had tried to tussle with him outside the arena had been terminated in a single klik. He also hadn't liked when she had tapped on his back her first cycle there.
His claw-like finger didn't leave her chin. Darkstrike's helm arched up higher, her optics showing confidence instead of the uncertainty that bubbled within her.
Soundwave watched the nervous femme in front of him. His unpredictability had caused her face to show an array of emotions. He was in control of the situation. Soundwave normally didn't allow himself to indulge in impulses. It was unwise, especially with such a problematic femme.
Seeing her aggression during her fight had ignited an interest in him. The drive she had to live fascinated him. She was a high-caste, and yet he sensed Darkstrike was on the brink of becoming something different. The question was, would she survive long enough for it to happen?
Her thoughts were loud enough for Soundwave to hear them. Her mind was open, an unconscious mistake he assumed. Even after her first painful fight, she was adamant about not wanting to work in a brothel. The femme had acted defensive out of paranoia that he would restrain her.
She was a curious thing, and Soundwave was keen on pushing her limits.
He removed his finger and watched as her optics followed it. She looked at him with confusion.
Soundwave knew he shouldn't pursue this interest. She was a peculiar thing, bold enough to protect her own spark from becoming extinguished, but pitiful enough to cower beneath him.
She was weak, unhardened. Darkstrike was unaccustomed to unadulterated fury even though it had saved her life in the fight. Perhaps one day she'd hone her skills and become an experienced fighter.
"Femme will be receiving upgrade," Soundwave declared. Darkstrike's optics immediately snapped to him. She blinked in confusion.
"What..?" she blurted. He backed up a noticeable distance from her. She looked alarmed.
His finger pointed at the door behind the metal berth.
"I'm getting an upgrade?" Darkstrike was clearly baffled.
Soundwave didn't reply. He motioned for her to follow him. They entered the room next door. The small storage space contained various armor parts, all likely from deceased mechs. The fighters were allowed to recycle the armor as they saw fit. The storeroom also contained abandoned records of all the mechs that had offlined in the Pits. With the rise in deaths in the arena, most of the datapads weren't updated anymore.
"Choose your pieces and attach them to frame," he commanded.
Darkstrike appeared surprised. Her mood seemed to lift considerably. She began hurriedly inspecting each piece of dark-colored armor.
Soundwave decided he would wait in the other room. Before he left, a familiar red datapad caught his optic. He extended a servo to reach for it.
Looking at it closer, he realized it was the old datapad he had stored long ago after he received his first major upgrade. The worn-out pad seemed almost invisible to the naked optic. It was probable that the device had belonged to a fighter before him. Soundwave had found it in the storage room long ago and took it. After absorbing all of its knowledge, he had returned it. It seemed no mech had claimed it since then.
He took it into the other room and waited.
Eventually, the femme gathered her armor.
There was a faint sound of metal scraping when she came into view. Soundwave didn't hide his staring as he revised her full frame. The armor loosely hung off her, weighing down her body. It gave her a bulky appearance, making her look uncomfortable. She clumsily took a step forward.
Darkstrike noticed he was staring for a prolonged period of time and blushed a light blue. She seemed visibly displeased.
"Lay on berth," he commanded.
The femme struggled to walk normally. After several attempts, she managed to get herself onto the surface.
Soundwave neared her, silently extending a tendril from his frame. The long appendage slithered her way unnoticed.
"Query: Ready?" Soundwave questioned.
"Ready? Ready for what–" she was interrupted. Soundwave roughly connected his tendril to the femme's back. Immediately, his biolights began glowing.
Darkstrike let out a long scream.
Many mechs reacted similarly. It was the reason they used restraints. Given the femme's reluctance, Soundwave had chosen to do it while she was unguarded. It spared him the trouble of attempting to wrangle her.
Soundwave remained unfazed. Darkstrike stiffened up, trembling in pain as he continued. He wanted to know how much longer she could endure it until she dropped unconscious.
The tendril clung onto her for a bit longer. The process continued for a few more kliks.
Soundwave detached the long tendril from her. She collapsed to the ground, landing on her knees. Darkstrike's helm was lowered; her audible venting suggested she was recuperating.
Her previously loose armor fit her form adequately, adding mass to her frame. Her protoform appeared less exposed. She would be able to transform without a hassle now. If the femme were to advance in the Pits, she needed to have the armor susceptible for it.
Darkstrike looked down at her frame. She immediately noticed the change. The flier bolted up, testing her arms and legs. She averted her wide optics towards Soundwave.
They stared at each other for a few kliks. At first, she regarded him with gratitude. However, it didn't take long for her to feel the pain of her fight and the upgrade. The gratitude in her optics turned into wariness.
Thick tension filled the room. Narrowed red optics refused to leave his visor. Soundwave didn't like this. He gave her a few kliks to back down.
Darkstrike didn't. It seemed she was indignant with the way he had handled her. He would not tolerate silent defiance.
Soundwave slowly traveled her way. He regarded her in a questioning manner, daring her to speak up. Darkstrike began to falter. She began averting her optics away. He stopped at a more reasonable distance away from her than last time.
"Do not engage unless prepared for a challenge," Soundwave uttered. She looked at him tiredly. The femme looked to be at her limits.
He didn't know what prompted him, but Soundwave revealed the datapad he had found earlier. He laid it flat on the table and pushed it towards her. Darkstrike's face lit up in surprise. Without saying anything else, he turned away.
"Are you–" she was cut off.
"Leave," he commanded. With quick skittish movements, Darkstrike snatched the datapad and left the room. The wounded femme struggled to exit with the heavy armor weighing her down. His optics trailed after her figure as she left.