Edit:

One Orbital Cycle= One Month

Chapter 5

Her wounds were not extensive. The medic didn't do a spectacular job of making her repairs painless but then again, it was the Pits they were talking about. Darkstrike was grateful for receiving any type of medical care.

Now in her room, Darkstrike sat on her berth. She couldn't help but reminisce on Soundwave, on his actions, and the reasons behind them. The mech didn't have to help her. He didn't have to give her his energon, a scarce energy source in the Pits.

After orns of not speaking to her, he had helped lessen the pain of her wounds. A high-ranker had aided her.

Why he had made this decision was beyond Darkstrike. In the optics of a high-ranker, she was nothing but a burden. The femme was already the owners' charity case as it was. Soundwave didn't seem like a mech that cared about others. Who would? In the circumstances they were in, she certainly didn't.

From what she saw, Soundwave hardly interacted with other mechs. The fact that she was a femme could've made a big difference. Maybe he was attracted to her, after all.

Darkstrike could still feel his touch linger on her protoform. His fingers were gentle. The way they wandered gave her a sense of delight. She could still remember the slight heat that radiated off his frame. In their total silence, Darkstrike wondered if his optics stared into hers.

She had barely touched him and yet he had recoiled so fast. He moved away like he was disgusted with her. The complete 180 degree in attitude baffled Darkstrike.

The femme felt a mixture of fear and respect for the mech. Soundwave had no intentions for her, supposedly. Darkstrike wasn't one to accuse him of being a liar, but she knew he was intelligent. He must've been living in Kaon for vorns now; there was no way he hadn't picked up on the concept of using deception.

She didn't want to be lured into a false sense of security. Though, if he truly wanted her for pleasure purposes, he wouldn't have been so off-put by her touch. His reaction had seemed genuine, but it was hard for Darkstrike to be sure. It was difficult making these types of judgment calls.

She had misplaced her trust before, a decision that almost cost her life.

The femme fell back into her berth. This is so confusing.

Darkstrike liked that he was different, but maybe he was too much so. The other mechs in the caste behaved very differently. They were blunt and spoke carelessly without the worry of repercussions. The reason Darkstrike didn't trust them was that they made their dark intentions clear, in fact too clear. Soundwave was the exact opposite. The other mechs were all talk while Soundwave was all action. Thinking back, Megatronus was also known to possess cunning.

Perhaps there was a clear division between the high-rankers and everyone else. It was clear to Darkstrike that to succeed, one needed a combination of both strength and intelligence.

Only 10 percent of them fell into a high-ranking position. Though there were very few benefits from it besides the pay, the respect earned, maybe a slightly better living space. That meant that for the most part, they all endured the same suffering.

To think that this was still better than a working-class job like mining. She knew the Pits were bad, but outside the arenas awaited a whole different kind of suffering for all of them. Darkstrike supposed fighting was an adequate diversion from it all. She recognized that the mechs sought a distraction from the cruelty of Kaon.

It was probably the reason why her presence ignited a response from the mechs; she wished the mechs would stop bothering her to get entertainment.

Perhaps it was time for her to get her own hobby. After being in the Pits for some time, the fear was starting to wear off. As the cycles dragged on, Darkstrike found herself slipping into a simple routine. The femme needed to spice up her repetitive schedule.

Besides her fights and training, the only enlivening moments in her life were the few times she interacted with Soundwave.

Maybe I need to be bolder.

Changing her demeanor couldn't hurt. Since she had arrived, her overall approach to life was to try not to attract any more attention to herself than she already did. Looking back, Darkstrike saw how futile it had been. It was a fact that no matter what, she'd always stick out in a crowd. It was due time she changed her strategy.

A little fearlessness from her wouldn't hurt? She hoped.

To think, the start of all these thoughts was because of that accursed mech, Soundwave.

Darkstrike scoffed.

All because he affected her– and not in such a terrible way.

Her optics flickered open. Darkstrike was quick to turn on the lights. She began placing her armor on.

Looking over herself, she smirked. Today would be different. The femme would experiment with her attitude and see how far she'd get. Darkstrike wanted to break her simple cycle of waking up, training, fighting, and sleeping.

Though, she would exercise caution. She couldn't get too carried away considering she was unsure how others could react.

Darkstrike exited her chambers, striding down the familiar corridors. After a few kliks, she reached the rec room. The door hissed open. She took notice that she was one of the first bots to arrive.

The femme usually arrived a lot later since she valued every nano-klik of recharge. Today, Darkstrike had come with a purpose.

The dark-armored femme walked up to the energon server. As always, he was engrossed in a datapad. It probably held explicit content.

"The usual," she spoke, interrupting his reading. The mech took his time before regarding her. He grabbed a cube before filling it up with the blue substance. He extended it to her.

"Here's "the usual," the mech mocked. Darkstrike momentarily and rolled her optics.

"Much obliged," she replied, not allowing her attitude to falter. He raised an optic ridge. Darkstrike smirked and snatched her energon before turning to the door.

She traveled down the corridors, enduring many twists and turns. She was determined to find a specific room. It was only when she reached the hallway did Darkstrike begin to grow apprehensive.

Apparently, the hallways were prohibited for a low-ranker. She heard something about an incident where a mech attempted to hack the lock to stay in a better room. Her optics flickered around for cameras.

Darkstrike anxiously looked down at the energon in her servos. She swished it around. Regret began sinking in. Her smile had melted into a nervous expression.

She bawled her claws into a fist. I'm doing this.

Darkstrike lifted her fist towards the door. She hesitated for a few kliks before actually getting the nerve to knock. The sound reverberated across the seemingly abandoned hallway.

After a nano-klik of no response, dread was beginning to set in. Darkstrike suddenly felt foolish. She looked at the ground and gritted her denta. I can do this. Let me knock just one more time.

Before she could knock again, the door hissed open. Darkstrike froze. She automatically felt his gaze on her. The femme didn't know if it was her processor malfunctioning, but the surrounding temperature seemed to lower.

Darkstrike slowly lifted her optics to meet his visor. The femme was determined to complete her goal. Swallowing any doubt she had, Darkstrike mustered a confident expression, regardless of the fear she held. The femme extended the energon cube to him

"Here. For yesterday," she said. Soundwave looked down at it but didn't make a move to receive it.

"Query: Why?" he asked. The sound of his resonant voice was enough to make Darkstrike jump.

"I want to make sure I have no debts with you," she replied.

He silently studied her. Eventually, his arm moved to retrieve the energon from her grasp. He inspected it. Finding it adequate, Soundwave subspaced the cube.

"Soundwave will not assist femme again," he said.

"I won't need your help again once I master the datapad." Darkstrike watched to see if he'd give any reaction to her mentioning the tablet.

Soundwave stared at her for a couple of nano-kliks before nodding. He turned to enter his room.

That's it?

Before the door closed, Darkstrike reached her servo out. "Wait…!" she exclaimed. She slightly entered his room to prevent the door from shutting. Soundwave reacted quickly. He looked on the defensive.

"I want to ask you something," Darkstrike said.

"No. Leave," he rudely retorted.

"Why did you give me the datapad?" she stubbornly asked. Soundwave stood up tall. He took large steps forward, pushing her out into the hallway. Darkstrike recoiled.

"Ask fewer questions and you will survive longer," he threatened. Her confident attitude dissipated into unease.

"So, I'm not allowed to question your motives at all?" Darkstrike fumed.

"I do not owe you explanations," he threatened. Soundwave kept walking, cornering her into the wall. He was close enough for her to notice the small details of his helm.

She felt speechless, not understanding his reaction. Her question was an innocent one. Darkstrike felt like she wasn't being too invasive. Well… apart from shoving her servo through his door.

No matter what, Soundwave was set on giving her as little information as he could.

The femme was regretting not leaving when she had the chance. Her impulsivity had gotten the better of her.

He stared intently. Darkstrike looked away, feeling her spark burn in embarrassment.

All the mechs in the Pit were loud and blunt. It was easy to read them and get a clear understanding of their intentions. Soundwave was the exception, making it impossible for her to analyze him. She clenched her servos.

"As of right now, I'm no longer indebted to you, right?" Darkstrike asked, hesitantly looking at him.

"Correct."

She stood quiet, observing him. Irkingly enough, he hadn't backed away. He was intimidating her, trying to break her spirit. It was ironic considering the orns ago, he had encouraged her to fight against RocketShield and his gang.

Fight. Submitting means failure. Failure means death.

A smidge of confidence surged through her at remembering his words. Darkstrike stood up straight and took a step forward, further closing the distance between them. They weren't touching, but they were quite close. She craned her neck to look up at him. To her surprise, he didn't flinch. She wasn't going to back down, either.

Darkstrike optics shamelessly took in his details before settling on his visor. She could feel the familiar heat radiating off his powerful frame. Just a smidge close and they'd be touching. She was sure that'd get him to back down.

Soundwave monitored her closely. He scrutinized her every movement. Her optics couldn't help but glint mischievously. Darkstrike audaciously stepped even closer, waiting to see if he'd retreat. Their frames were touching now. The mech twitched but otherwise didn't move. They stared at each other.

The femme couldn't help but grow a little warm. A small blush tainted her face. His aura was intense. Soundwave carried himself with a lot of confidence. She concluded that his silence only meant that many thoughts circulated through his processor.

The femme bit her lip. She opened her mouth to speak but noticed Soundwave tilt his helm at her. It was almost as if he was daring her to continue. Taking this hint, Darkstrike closed her mouth. She had a feeling she was testing his patience.

Soundwave lifted his finger and placed it on her shoulder to push her back. She stepped away until her wings pressed up against the wall. Darkstrike wondered if he was angry. His movements seemed calm enough.

She had pushed the boundaries of a mech that could kill her in one swipe. Darkstrike took a couple more steps away from him. He had humored her enough already. She definitely didn't want to get on his bad side, if she wasn't already.

Soundwave continued to stare at the femme.

"Okay, u-um, goodbye," Darkstrike awkwardly stammered. Giving him a small nod, she quickly turned to leave. She wasted no time getting out of his sights.

Once the femme was far enough, she stopped to lean against a wall. Darkstrike stood there in shock.

She really did that.

Slowly, her earlier smirk began to melt back onto her faceplates. A light blue flushed over her cheeks. Darkstrike couldn't believe she had gotten away with touching him. That was exhilarating.

This confirmed that she was able to get away with a more daring attitude. It looked like there were perks to being a femme. She'd take more advantage of it in the future.

After composing herself, Darkstrike went to the rec room. She'd stay there until the bell rang. When she entered, there weren't too many mechs seated yet. The femme would take this as an opportunity to sit down at a table, for once.

She sat at an empty table, a distance away from the other mechs. Darkstrike stretched her arms and wings before relaxing. She placed her legs on the seat next to her and leaned against the wall. Darkstrike stretched her arms. The energon Soundwave had given her the previous cycle was enough to get her through the cycle. The femme took a deep vent and exhaled in relief.

She subspaced her datapad out and began reading. She stayed in her spot, even as more mechs entered the room. A few sat on the other side of her long table. Some of them gave her a few glances but Darkstrike paid them no mind.

Reading was peaceful. All was going well until a familiar group of mechs made their way to her table. Warily staring at them, she subspaced her datapad.

"What a surprise! Our Brightplate seems to have taken a seat this time," RocketShield spoke up. Darkstrike, growing annoyed at his taunting, hardly acknowledged the mech's words. His harassment was getting old.

"It seems so," she replied.

"What's the matter, was the floor taken?" RocketShield asked.

"No," Darkstrike responded, shrugging. The mech across from her frowned at this. His expression became bored. His group of mechs seemed to notice this change in him. One of them whispered something to him. This made RocketShield smile.

"Move over, my mechs and me want to sit," he demanded.

"There are seats right over there," Darkstrike pointed. RocketShield briefly glanced at them.

"Yeah, well we want this table," he rudely replied.

"We don't always get what we want, do we?" the femme remarked.

"So you want to be a smartaft, huh?" he snarled. Darkstrike saw through him. He wanted to provoke her and get her attention. This mech was adamant about making her life harder, and Darkstrike was growing weary of it.

"You think I'm smart?" she asked in mock innocence.

True, he could have just responded with violence, but now that Darkstrike could handle pain, she wasn't as easily lured into submission.

"I don't like your attitude, femme," he said while approaching her.

"Femme? What happened to our special nickname?" Darkstrike asked raising an optic ridge.

RocketShield's optic twitched for a moment. He stopped to think, much to Darkstrike's surprise. She assumed he didn't know how to use his processor.

The red mech shifted slightly. It took a moment before he grinned. "Brightplate? Didn't know you were so fond of the name," his voice was smug, "Not that it should surprise me. You wanna be called what you are."

RocketShield stood up and shoved Darkstrike's pedes off the table. She caught herself before she fell off. The femme fixed her wings. Her smile momentarily fell. She realized what RocketShield was trying to do. Though her anger boiled inside of her, she needed to keep her edge.

"I like that name as much as I like yours; I despise it," Darkstrike added.

"You sure about that? I bet I can get you screaming it by tonight," he chuckled. Darkstrike gagged loudly, making RocketShield jump back. She stubbornly put her pedes on the seats once more. The flier glared at him, displeased with his lewd comment.

"Probably screaming for you to stop," she said, her lips turned to a snarl.

RocketShield's ire rapidly rose. She had just attacked a mech's masculinity, that never led to anywhere good.

Darkstrike had been there for orns now. While she wasn't the most skilled Gladiator, she was sure she had proven her worth by now. Some mechs will never change.

The femme had no regrets. Darkstrike was glad she got up early that morning to see Soundwave. She was even pleased that she had chosen to pass time in the rec room instead of cowering into her room.

If RocketShield responded to her with violence, perhaps it was time Darkstrike stepped up to the challenge.

"Give me a chance to prove you wrong," he arrogantly spoke. That wasn't the response she was expecting.

He pushed her legs out of the way and sat next to her. Darkstrike's optics glared at him. Suddenly getting an idea, she smirked. The femme leaned to him, beckoning him closer with a claw. RocketShield obeyed. It wasn't until he saw the look in her optics that he realized something was off.

Darkstrike mustered the brightest grin she could and spit at his face. A look of surprise graced his features. RocketShield recoiled away in disgust. His mechs looked just as indignant. He growled and roughly wiped off her spit.

The blow to his pride seemed to be too much. Now he had a taste of the humiliation Darkstrike experienced on a daily basis.

RocketShield stood up, holding his fist towards her. This caused the femme to stand in defense. She glared up at him, her servo threateningly resting on her sword. Their fighting spirits were clashing against each other. A storm was brewing.

Mechs began to stare at them.

RocketShield was about to swing at her and Darkstrike prepared herself. However, the blow never came.

She heard an object hit the back of his helm. He turned around, scarlet optics wide with fury. Much to his confusion, no one was there. His group mumbled to each other; no one had seen who had thrown it.

RocketShield's optics widened in bemusement. As the bell rung, the subject seemed to be dropped. The mech threw her one last glare before he and his group sauntered off. The spectating mechs grumbled at the lack of action.

Darkstrike disregarded them, staring with wide, confused optics. She had been prepared for a fight, not a retreat.

As usual, the femme was the last one to leave. Before exiting, she walked to the object that had been thrown at RocketShield. Darkstrike hesitantly picked it up.

Her optics widened when she realized that it was an empty energon cube.

Orbital Cycles Later

She waited at the door behind the arena. Darkstrike's battle would begin in 20 kliks.

She took a few deep vents.

It was nothing she hadn't prepared for. The femme brought her servo in front of her and clenched it into a fist. She wore a determined expression.

She stretched her servo out, claws uncurling. They shined with the lighting of the room. Darkstrike hesitated as she flexed them out. She had never let them grow this long. It was seen as unappealing when a high caste femme was not well-manicured.

Darkstrike wasn't sure if she'd use them in battle. She hadn't really regarded them since her first fight.

Many Cybertronians possessed unique abilities. These all ranged from speed, mirage, strength, intelligence, and rarer were shapeshifters and triple changers. The possibilities went on. The femme could only remember accidentally shocking others when her claws grew too long. At the time, it didn't seem like a noticeable characteristic.

It was odd, considering she had almost killed a mech with them. They could work to her advantage if she desired.

Do I want to? The untapped potential scared her. Darkstrike didn't know how to activate them, much less control it. The power within her felt too unstable. The only trigger the femme could think of was the intense anger during that fight. The ability most likely tied in with her emotions.

Though for victory, Darkstrike would rather depend on the battle moves she'd been practicing. Her claws would be used as a last resort only.

If the femme had practiced enough, she wouldn't even need to think about using them. She had all the resources she needed.

What's more, was that other cycle Soundwave had even demonstrated a move for her. There were no excuses if she lost this fight.

The femme took a klik to remember the fond memory.

Darkstrike attempted to twist her body to a certain degree but her footing misplaced each time. She growled at her failed fifth attempt. The results were the same. The femme's frustration grew. Out of anger, Darkstrike threw a punch at a nearby obstacle. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Her optics glared at the floor.

Taking a moment to calm down, she released a deep sigh. When her helm rose, Darkstrike jumped in surprise. Soundwave now stood there.

"Slag!" she yelled loudly. He gave no response. Darkstrike gave him a sheepish smile.

"Continue," Soundwave commanded.

"What?" she furrowed her optic ridge.

"Continue," Soundwave repeated.

Darkstrike realized he wanted to see her train. Swallowing her nervousness, Darkstrike placed her pedes in the position. She raised her fists at optic level. Using proper technique, she threw several punches.

The femme then kicked up high. The last part required her to twist her body and spin twice before giving a final, powerful kick. Unfortunately, her footing was still incorrect, causing her to fall from midair. She let out a deep vent.

"Stand," he ordered. Darkstrike picked herself up. "Observe."

Soundwave stood in the same position she had been, except he was more precise. His long arms were raised and Darkstrike would have thought that they were a burden until she saw his movements. He demonstrated strength as he punched the obstacle. His high kicks were impeccable. The mech gracefully spun and gave one final, powerful kick, snapping the obstacle from its chain. Soundwave landed firmly on the ground.

Darkstrike was amazed. There was no doubt in her processor that he had memorized the entire datapad. He was excellent. The femme's spark began beating faster. His movements were burned into her processor; it would be impossible to forget the way he performed the moves.

"Pedes must be one mechanometer apart. Use momentum of punching to spin," Soundwave said. Without so much as a goodbye, he walked away.

Darkstrike couldn't help her optics from wandering to his wide shoulders, armored back, and his aft. She bit her lip. Soundwave suddenly glanced back at her. The action startled the femme making her blush a bright blue. She quickly looked away, hoping that he hadn't caught her.

Nevertheless, after he left, Darkstrike had mastered the move. She hadn't seen him since, but she hoped he would watch her fight.

Although Darkstrike wanted to impress, she wouldn't get too fancy with it. She couldn't reveal all her cards just yet.

Playing dirty was no longer cheating. Darkstrike was learning the Kaon way of fighting. The femme was determined to win without getting extensive injuries like last time.

Darkstrike walked into the arena full of screaming Cybertronians. Her optics looked up at all of them, wondering if they were only looking for a good show. Lucky for them, she'd give them one.

She was going to prove herself. Not only to Soundwave but to the other Gladiators as well. She was one of them and she wanted to be recognized as such. The dark-armored femme stood up straight as she looked at the mech across from her.

He was one of the mechs that followed RocketShield. What a coincidence. It wouldn't be the same as causing harm to RocketShield but it'd have to do. Darkstrike would show RocketShield what she was capable of; she wouldn't hold back on his loyal mech.

She turned her helm to the stands. There stood the Gladiators who paid to watch her. Quite a few mechs were spectating. Darkstrike recognized a few of them. RocketShield was there, in all of his idiotic glory. Darkstrike hoped he could see her scowl from far.

Megatronus was watching, too. To her surprise, Soundwave sat next to him. Two of the Pit's best fighters had come to watch her. It made her self conscious. She didn't want two high-rankers scrutinizing her. Considering Soundwave's silent nature, at least they wouldn't be openly critiquing her.

Darkstrike tuned out her thoughts to focus on her surroundings. She wanted to take a good look before she had to completely concentrate.

It was a full arena today. That didn't ease her stress. This match meant a lot to her. It was the unofficial battle that would allow Darkstrike to fully prove herself. She would win at all costs. She'd show the Gladiators that she could stoop to their level.

"In this corner, we have our only femme, Darkstrike! Who remembers her? Let me hear you yell if you recognize our femme!" the speaker encouraged the whistling and shouting.

"Over here, we last orn's victor, Shanktile!" he announced, "Will the femme move on or will she be bested by this mech? Is this going to be another easy win for Shanktile?" the announcer asked rhetorically. Although, judging by the loud commotion in the arena, it was clear that many had answered him.

"You know the rules for this fight. No transforming. No weapons allowed. All else is fair game," he announced, "Gladiators... you may begin fighting!"

Darkstrike kept her optics focused on Shanktile. The mech was smirking at her. The smug look was already beginning to grind her gears. She snarled at him, clenching her servos into fists.

His optics roamed her body without shame. This edged her on. That was what he wanted. He was goading her to make the first move. Darkstrike smirked. If that's what he wanted, then that's what he'd get.

She launched herself towards him. Darkstrike swung a fist at him. He dodged it but failed to see the uppercut thrown by her other servo. He rubbed his chin and took a step back.

The mech glared at her. Shanktile didn't miss this opportunity to strike at her. Her optics caught a blurry figure and nano-kliks later, there was a sharp pain in her jaw. She winced but didn't miss a beat trying to dodge the next shot he was aiming for.

After that, the mech attacked her vigorously, leaving no room for her to fight on the offensive. He kept her like this for a few kliks until he managed to get a hit in. When he did, Darkstrike recovered quickly. Her spark hummed in anticipation. He was using a simple strategy; the femme just needed to get past his brute strength.

She had gone over the moves enough times where it should've been instinct. Darkstrike would win because of her superior fighting style. Her processor quickly registered the position she was in and where her competitor was located.

Shanktile punched her but Darkstrike took a hold of his arm. Her servos gripped his wrist and elbow socket. Not hesitating, she twisted it completely around, dislocating his joint. Shanktile yelled out. Mustering all the strength she could, she flipped him on his back. Shanktile landed on the ground with a loud thud.

Her victory was short-lived. Shanktile immediately grasped her ankle to trip Darkstrike. She fell on the ground as he stood up. The mech kicked her hard. Darkstrike rolled until she crashed into the wall. Shanktile leaped in her direction. Before the femme could stand, he placed his larger pede on her chassis.

Darkstrike struggled when her armor began denting. She grimaced as he didn't show signs of stopping. Her servos attempted to pry his pede off her to no avail. In a flurry of panic, Darkstrike looked at her servos, specifically her long claws.

Win at any cost.

Darkstrike dug her claws into Shanktile's lower leg. She made sure to dig them in deeply to make sure of his pain. As soon as he felt the electricity, the mech removed his pede and stumbled back.

The femme rose. She took the opportunity to advance. With a running start, Darkstrike extended her pede to kick him square in the faceplates. Shanktile stumbled and swayed after the blow. He shook his helm to compose himself. Darkstrike extended her leg again but Shanktile caught it. He grasped it firmly and threw her against the arena walls.

Frag! That was going to hurt later. Darkstrike spit some blood out.

She was ending this fight. She refused to get pummeled by that insignificant mech. The femme aimed to win.

She stood up just before he charged her way. Her arms moved to form a protective stance. Shanktile's sloppy punches were easy to duck. Darkstike moved under, propelling herself to give him a stronger uppercut.

The mech fell back from the force.

She waited to see if he would stand. Much to her frustration he did. Her optics studied his movements. Shanktile was slowing down.

He charged at her, optics looking determined.

Darkstrike crouched down, giving him her own fierce look. When he was close enough, she swung her leg to kick his jaw. The femme leaped, spinning twice before slamming her pede on his chassis.

Just as Soundwave had demonstrated.

The mech flew back to the other side of the arena. When he didn't stand right away, Darkstrike walked over to him. Her optics narrowed in contempt.

Shanktile was still online but struggling to stand.

"Pathetic," she spat, "You're just as deplorable as RocketShield.

He coughed but managed to speak. She lifted an optic-ridge to see what he'd say.

"You're nothing but a worthless femme, unworthy of RocketShield's time," he refuted. Her temper immediately flared throughout her body. The femme glared at him, optics becoming a bright crimson color. Even while at her mercy, Shanktile continued to behave with insolence. It was time someone taught these mechs a little something about respect.

"Enough of this," she growled, "Stand if you have the courage to face me."

The mech managed to stand, much to Darkstrike's pleasure. She instinctively swung her claws at him. A scratch mark formed on his chassis as he began bleeding energon. The mech began to collapse again. Darkstrike didn't stop there.

Shanktile fell to the ground on his front side. Darkstrike traveled towards him. She knew how she wanted to finish this fight.

Deciding to use one of her wrestling-type moves, she sat on his back. Her arms grabbed his helm, pulling him back in a chokehold. His arms flailed, attempted to throw her off but her position made it impossible. This didn't make him struggle any less.

"Yield to me." Darkstrike agonized.

When he didn't give up or say anything, she only tightened her hold. Her claws dug into his plating, her anger taking control of her.

A deep heat radiated from her spark and energon circulation. This went on until Shanktile yelled out in pain.

"I yield!" these were his final words before a wave of electricity flowed through him causing him to seize. Immediately, Darkstrike retracted her claws, recoiling several steps back. Smoke began to rise from Shanktile's frame. Small sparks jumped from his joints.

The femme hadn't expected that to happen.

Darkstrike quickly flipped him over. His spark chamber was glowing; he was still alive. She sighed in relief.

The femme waited for the speaker to come to announce her victory. All spectators alike applauded and cheered. Darkstrike even noticed that the Gladiators looked riled up. This filled her with pride.

She looked over at the speaker. Darkstrike didn't know why he was taking so long. He appeared to be gesturing to her and speaking with a high-caste looking mech. She frowned, becoming impatient.

When both mechs nodded, the speaker finally walked over to her, the microphone in his servo.

"The winner today would have to be Shanktile..." he said, faking a disappointed tone of voice. Some of the crowd booed, a part of it cheered, and the last part seemed to be mocking her. "Our femme here happened to break the only rule of this fight," he spoke. Outraged, Darkstrike shoved the mech so that he was facing her. She wore a fierce glare on her face.

"What rule did I break? That slagger can't even get up, how is it that he won? " Darkstrike yelled at him. She was oblivious that her loud voice reached the microphone.

Her voice reverberated across the entire arena. All of the bots quieted down to hear the commotion. Darkstrike couldn't care less; her attention was directed at her supposed failure.

"Oh yes, there was one rule. No weapons allowed," he said. This did nothing to pacify her anger.

"What are you talking about? I have no weapons on me!" she growled at him. The speaker didn't look amused. It seemed that he was used to dealing with angry mechs.

But she was a femme... and things would play out differently this time.

"Yes, but you used those," the speaker motioned towards her claws. Energon was leaking off them. Darkstrike glanced at her servos. "The method you chose to incapacitate him is an ability, not normal strength. The electricity you produced is as powerful as a weapon, giving you an unfair advantage."

She stood there in shock. "Unfair advantage?" Since when was anything fair in the Pits?

"My claws are part of my frame if you haven't noticed. By your logic, Shanktile shouldn't win because he used his heavy armor against me. Besides," she argued, "If my bare servos are stronger as strong as weapons, I deserve to win."

Her words caused the arena to explode with murmurs.

The speaker gave a deep exaggerated sigh. "Look femme, the decision has already been decided. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the owners," the speaker huffed in annoyance. Darkstrike was taken aback. She glanced at the owners, who also eagerly watched.

At this point, any other mech with common sense would have walked away. The owners were the ones that could send the Gladiators to their death.

Darkstrike looked back at the speaker.

"Actually, I'm going to take it up with you," she threatened as she poked his chassis with her energon-stained claw. She bared her denta at the mech. "I won this fight."

"Oh, and what is it you want to do about it, femme?" he challenged. Darkstrike glared at him. They spent nano-kliks like this.

She suddenly had a bright idea. She smirked and snatched the microphone from the speaker. Before he could object, Darkstrike pushed him to the ground easily.

"I, Darkstrike, declare myself today's champion!" she announced, using her arms to gesture as the speaker did.

The arena of Cybertronians went wild. "And if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with my aft." Darkstrike threw the microphone at him. She regarded him coldly before heading towards the door.

Seeing the mechs shouting and whistling at her made Darkstrike bolder. She snuck a glance at Soundwave. When she was certain that he also was watching her, she threw him a smirk.

The fight had ended 10 kliks ago.

Soundwave acknowledged that her fight had been intriguing. It was the most progress he had witnessed from her. Her precision reflected countless joors of practice. It was evident that she studied based on the way she had attacked Shanktile and avoided his blows.

His criticism was that she lacked experience. Darkstrike trained alone meaning that she missed vital knowledge on reaction times and responding to other fighting styles. Obstacles could not imitate the strength of another fighter.

The femme was tenacious, though. She was always willing to fight. Again, she had used her special power. Her claws produced powerful shocks. It was possible for her to kill a mech with them. From her reaction, he assumed she hadn't masted it yet. Darkstrike had many areas to improve.

Though, at her current pace, it wasn't long until she'd establish herself among middle-rankers. Soundwave held expectations for her. After all, it was he who had given her the knowledge to start with.

The most pleasing aspect of Darkstrike's fight was when she had chocked her opponent into submission. The femme had a temper on her. It was likely that the adrenaline pumping through her spark had caused her to react in such a manner. The heat of battle was a powerful drug.

Darkstrike hadn't stopped there. Pushing the speaker out of the way, she expressed herself clearly, announcing herself as the winner. The owners seemed particularly amused with this and didn't intervene. It seemed they had a favorite fighter. Considering the amount of profit they gained that cycle, it wasn't difficult to see why.

It wasn't unusual that the speaker had claimed her the loser of the fight. Soundwave suspected that a bot had attempted to pay him off. The owners gave the speaker enough control to make the fights interesting.

If the femme was lucky, she'd receive no repercussions for her actions. Much to the owners' satisfaction, she had caused a commotion among the crowd. Other Gladiators were vocal about their reactions as well.

When Darkstrike had exited the arena, she paused. The femme glanced at the crowd before settling her optics on him. It was impossible for him to miss the smirk she threw at him.

It wasn't often he was caught off guard but he considered that one of those times. Such a bold move for a secretive smile.

Darkstrike was instigating something– though he wasn't sure what. He wanted to remain indifferent. If he ignored her inviting smile, she'd understand he wasn't interested.

Yet, a part of him was.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Soundwave stood up to leave. Megatronus followed.

"Soundwave, are you acquainted with Darkstrike?" the silver mech asked.

His optics narrowed from behind his visor. "Negative."

"Strange. It looked like she had given you a smile," he replied.

Darkstrike was walking on a thin line.

"Preposterous," Soundwave stated. He would crush any type of suspicion of the femme being affiliated with him. The less other Gladiators knew about him, the better.

2 Cycles Later- Scrap Room

The scrap room was a place where Gladiators were allowed to take and recycle different types of metal pieces. It was next to the storage room.

Soundwave visited often. He came to collect various parts for the drone he was attempting to construct. It was an ideal way for him to pass time. It was quite complex designing it which was why he spent a lot of time in the scrap room. Soundwave was in stage one of development.

He turned to the next page of the datapad, revising the drone's model for any flaws. There were a few.

The door hissed open. Soundwave finished typing before slowly glancing over. It was the femme. He shouldn't have been surprised.

Her red optics widened at seeing him. Soundwave looked down at the datapad to continue his work.

He could see out the corner of his optic, she was hesitating. Darkstrike wasn't being bold anymore, it seemed. There was only one table in the room meaning they'd have to share it. The mech didn't care; she could do what she'd like as long as it didn't interfere with his work.

The femme eventually inched closer. Darkstrike began shuffling around the room, gathering all her tools. Soundwave averted his full attention to his drone design. He only glanced at her when she sat at the table.

They sat in silence, both minding their own business. Soundwave preferred this but he suspected it wouldn't last long. Darkstrike wasn't hard to predict.

He could already feel the femme's optics glance at him. In a matter of kliks she opened her mouth to speak.

"Did you find it entertaining?" Darkstrike asked. Soundwave raised his helm to regard her. He noticed that her shoulder plates were on the table. She was altering them.

"The battle... did you find it entertaining?" she clarified.

"Interesting," he responded. Darkstrike raised an optic ridge and momentarily frowned. She looked down at her servos in thought.

"A good interesting? Or a disappointing interesting?"

Soundwave didn't respond, leaving the femme to figure it out for herself. She huffed.

"Did I perform the moves correctly?" she asked. No other bot directly engaged him as she did. He didn't understand why she constantly attempted to pry information from him.

What a chattering femme.

"Affirmative," Soundwave said. His response caused an explosion of thoughts to emanate from her processor. Her mind was completely unguarded. It was so abrupt that his datapad almost slipped.

The femme sought his approval. The mech didn't know what to think of that. She continued to fix her armor. Soundwave noticed her satisfied smile.

The mech carefully watched her. The femme perplexed him. He wanted to pick her apart and find out why she behaved in such a way.

Unable to stop himself, the tendrils of his mind wisped in Darkstrike's direction. He wove deeper through the barriers of her processor. The mech had entered her mind before but this was the first time he did it with the intent to see what type of bot she was.

Darkstrike was very reactive to her surroundings. Emotions surged through her spark to an almost overwhelming degree. Her processor was cluttered with trivial thoughts and emotions. The femme's mind was as frantic as she was. For every klik that passed, there were a hundred thoughts her processor produced.

He pulled back before he could access her memory files. Soundwave inferred that although she burst with thoughts, she was not the deceitful type. Holding on to this information, he turned to her.

"Query: Why did Darkstrike smirk?" he questioned suddenly.

Darkstrike's optics widened. She looked away, appearing in thought. Then, her lips curled up in an alluring smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about." The femme turned her attention back to her armor as she feigned innocence.

"Do not be coy," he stated.

At first, she seemed to falter. The femme looked back at him and raised an optic ridge, "I don't owe you any explanations." She seemed proud of her remark. It was the words Soundwave had thrown at her, not too long ago.

"What are femme's intentions?" Soundwave questioned. He quoted her in return.

She looked up. "Do I have to have any?"

There was more she wasn't telling. The femme was behaving indirectly. If she wouldn't tell, he'd find out for himself.

He stood up, slightly startling Darkstrike. Soundwave approached her. Her optics began to widen in alarm. As unnerved as she appeared, the femme stood up to confront him. The mech stepped close enough until only a small distance remained between them. Darkstrike's optics darted away. A blush tainted her face.

He grasped her chin and forced her to look directly at him. "Femme is unaware of what I am capable of," he scorned.

"I'm just a mere femme. You shouldn't feel threatened by me," she replied. Darkstrike was playing innocent again. Soundwave had already underestimated her once, a mistake he wouldn't make again.

He didn't respond. The mech continued to stare at her. She seemed to get nervous.

"Just because I feel threatened doesn't mean I need to submit," she attempted to look at him confidently but faltered under his demeanor. Darkstrike began to back up.

Soundwave stepped forward, using his mass to push her back. Her back hit the table edge. He took advantage to place his arms on both sides of her, effectively trapping her in.

Darkstrike sputtered, attempting to comprehend the situation. She blushed again.

"Soundwave does not appreciate ambiguity," he said.

"I-In a caste where everything is blunt, maybe ambiguity is a nice change-up," the femme replied.

Her quick-witted responses vexed him deeply.

Soundwave noticed her movements wavered. It seemed she was contemplating her next actions.

Darkstrike wrapped her servo around his arm. His helm immediately turned to it. She took a step towards him.

The mech shifted to retract his arm from her grasp and took hold of her wrist. He twisted it behind her back, making her arch towards his frame.

"Are you sure?" Soundwave asked in a low tone.

"W-what I mean to say is…" her vents became slightly heavier "L-Let's not complicate the situation. I'm a femme, you're a mech, that's all there is to it."

His optics narrowed from behind his visor. Due to the femme's expressive facial features, it was unnecessary to read her mind. After a couple of kliks, he noticed Darkstrike struggle within his grasp.

"Soundwave…?" she asked. If he wanted, he could instill enough fear in her until she no longer bothered him. Taking a moment to contemplate it, the mech decided against it. He had wasted his time enough already.

Soundwave pulled back entirely. He gave her no second glance as he made his way back to his seat. He decided to end their interaction in an anticlimactic way.

The femme stared at him unabashedly.

"Very well," he said. The mech offered no additional explanation. His fingers began clicking on his datapad.

This thoroughly bemused her. As kliks passed by, there was complete silence. Even her thoughts had quieted.

"Okay," she replied. Darkstrike grabbed the pieces of her armor, reattaching them to herself. She traveled to the door but just before she left, she looked back. The femme was acting skittish again. "I'll see you around."

"Advice," Soundwave began, "Do not hesitate in front of opponent."

He didn't bother looking at her response. Soundwave had already indirectly accepted the femme's invitation to start this game.

Truth be told, Soundwave didn't know what she was expecting. He only understood that she wanted continual contact with him, but she didn't specify under what pretenses. The femme showed visible signs of attraction, and they initiated contact with one another. Yet, Darkstrike's actions didn't necessarily imply a relationship based on interface.

As she had said, she didn't know what she wanted.

This placed him in a similar position. What did he want? Soundwave was initially going to distance himself from her, let her know he wasn't interested in wasting time.

She was an impulsive femme. Darkstrike reacted based on what happened in the moment. It baffled Soundwave to know that Cybertronians lived without rationality. Perhaps it was why she intrigued him.

He glanced at the arm she had grasped.

If she wanted to play, he would gladly oblige.