A/N: Chapters 6-8 have been completely re-written. There's lots of new content. (The plot is very similar though; if you squint, you can see traces of the original.)
Small edit: Chapters 4-5 have been modified so that more time has passed between some scenes.
*One Orbital Cycle= One Month
Chapter 6
Darkstrike treaded deeper into the Pits. She was feeling too restless to go back to her room. Considering she had time to spare, she decided to go check her fight schedule. The femme continued to ponder on her recent encounter with Soundwave as she walked.
Joors later, his words still echoed in her processor. It was starting to give her a processor-ache.
Soundwave had given her another criticism. It appeared that the mech didn't bother with compliments, not that she minded; flattery was more common in mechs that wanted to deceive her.
She couldn't help but dwell on what Soundwave had advised.
"Do not hesitate in front of opponent."
The femme couldn't tell if he meant it literally or figuratively. Darkstrike didn't hesitate in the arena or against RocketShield. She mainly only second-guessed herself when it came to Soundwave, especially yesterday. His statement implied he was her opponent. That meant he was encouraging her to be more resolute.
As much as it scared her to step out of her comfort zone, she felt the most confidence when she behaved daringly.
Darkstrike had smirked at him after her fight. At the time, he hadn't given an immediate reaction— much to her disappointment. It wasn't until they ran into each other that he decided to confront her about it.
After that, things had taken an interesting turn. Darkstrike coyly flirted with Soundwave. She was nowhere near being a seductive type of femme; it felt foreign to her, but the power it gave her made her spark buzz in delight. Her indirect responses caused him to openly question her. Usually, it was the other way around. It filled her with satisfaction to see their circumstance flipped.
It was empowering yet frightening at the same time. The femme couldn't let it get to her helm, though. She had to remember that Soundwave still held most of the power.
When he grew tired of asking, he had confronted her. Though Darkstrike held her ground, it was still unexpected. His frame had trapped hers. The femme had never experienced unruly to this degree. She had a feeling that not many saw this side of Soundwave.
Maybe that's why Darkstrike was so drawn to Soundwave. Drawn? That's one way of putting it.
When the femme had touched his arm, the mech hadn't retreated like the first time. Soundwave had wasted no time grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back. His contact was bordering on aggressive. The way he restrained her pushed her chassis against his. The submissive position enticed her; her frame had reacted by growing warmer.
"Are you sure?" The way he had uttered those words to her made her blush. His low, threatening tone accompanied by the closeness of his body had her squirming. Somehow, his question seemed deeper than surface value.
Darkstrike would deny to anyone with flames that she actually liked the way Soundwave mangled with her.
I'm hopeless.
She didn't know what she was doing or what she wanted, but she hadn't felt this passion for so long. The thrill was as electrifying. Darkstrike wanted more. The femme tried her hardest to make that clear to him.
"Very Well." That had been Soundwave's only response. Again, his statement could be taken in many ways. After dwelling on it for so long, Darkstrike decided that if he didn't say no, she'd continue.
Figures, plenty of other mechs to choose from and I want the most untouchable of them all. The femme didn't know it was possible to be attracted and frightened of a mech at the same time.
That mech was an enigma. One thing certain, whenever she saw Soundwave again, she wouldn't hesitate.
Darkstrike finally reached the fight schedule. Her optics scanned the boards.
She backtracked for a moment, shocked to see her name appear multiple times.
It seemed like her plans for Soundwave would have to wait.
Orbital Cycles Later
Each step she took a tremendous amount of effort. Her vents were slow and raspy. Darkstrike was low on energon.
Unfortunately, the owners hadn't completely agreed with her decision to proclaim herself as the victor in her last great battle. Her initial punishment had been removing her surplus of energon.
The rest that followed had been hell. According to the owner Lanyard, if she was "feeling like such a hot-shot" then she was capable of fighting as many battles as they saw fit. Since then, she'd been enrolled in countless matches, big and small. At first, the Darkstrike had endured it as a show of defiance, but there was only so much a femme like her could take.
Many times she handled herself fine, always picking herself up to return to the fight. The owners were determined to teach her a lesson though.
The cycles between her fights shrunk; she was constantly put back in the arena before her injuries healed. What always followed was a bloody energon mess. Each fight took a heavy toll on her body. All she wanted to do was recharge during her free time. Most of the time, that was the only thing her aching body would let her do.
The last couple of orns had been particularly taxing. Lately, she'd been looking worse for wear.
Darkstrike stomped into the energon room, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. The flier walked down the aisle, her face twisted in an angry snarl. The mechs that stared at her were awarded a fierce glare. Darkstrike bared her denta to send her point across. Some of them looked away in distaste.
Her aching frame and hunger were making her more temperamental than usual.
The femme sluggishly plopped down at the bar. She sat down, leaning her helm on her servo for support. Her energon tanks were so low, Darkstrike wouldn't be surprised if she offlined right there.
She waited for the server to attend to her.
"The usual?" The energon-tender approached her with a cube already in servo.
"Shut up and give it to me," she snapped. He made a face but left it on the counter for her.
After the first sips, Darkstrike instantly felt better. Her systems began to function with increased efficiency. While the pain hadn't disappeared, her renewed strength was enough to endure it.
She continued to drink, occasionally glancing at the server. The flier absentmindedly wondered how much he got paid to be an energon-tender.
The mech looked ahead and stopped, his smile disappearing. He hurriedly grabbed an empty cube. Darkstrike noticed that he went to a different area to extract the energon. She was instantly curious about who it was for.
The femme's question was soon answered when she felt the presence of a mech beside her. When she took notice, she tensed up.
Soundwave regarded her silently as he took his energon from the server. The Gladiator looked directly at the femme.
Despite feeling self-conscious being around him in her unsightly state, Darkstrike didn't hesitate with her optic-contact. Though it had been orbital cycles since their last interaction, she hadn't forgotten it.
After holding the gaze for three nano-kliks, he was quick to retract. Darkstrike tried not to trail her optics after him as he exited the room. She bit her lip.
The femme immediately turned her helm back to the server. He had gone back to reading his datapad.
"Hey," she called out. The server dully regarded her.
"You're still here?" he asked bluntly.
Darkstrike narrowed her optics. "Yeah, but so are you."
"Have no choice." He went back to his typing, ignoring her again. Darkstrike frowned and rolled her optics.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, getting his attention once more.
"What?" the mech asked, becoming annoyed. Darkstrike pushed her empty cube aside and traveled closer to him.
"What's your name?"
"Magnesium," he replied unenthusiastically. That would explain his red paint.
"Okay good. You already know who I am so we're introduced."
"Get to the point."
"What do you know about Soundwave?" she quietly asked. The femme looked around, making sure no one was listening.
"Sounds like you need information. Lucky for you, I'm willing to exchange intel for a bit of legal tender," Magnesium rubbed his fingers together.
Darkstrike rolled her optics and slammed a few coins on the counter. "Take it or leave it."
"You used to be a lot nicer, y'know," Magnesium frowned. He set down his datapad. The mech leaned forward, quickly gathering the coins in his servo.
"Including myself, not many bots know a lot about Soundwave, aside from his reputation. No one knows where he came from or why came here, but he stands out as one of the most efficient fighters Kaon's Gladiatorial arena has ever seen. He's only had a single loss his entire run as a Gladiator."
The femme looked away, her spark feeling like it was going to jolt out of her chassis. "I'm sure he's popular among the audience," she commented.
"Ehh, it's a mixed bag," Magnesium interjected, "He draws in a big crowd, but they don't appreciate how quickly he chooses to end his fights."
Darkstrike was almost completely sure Soundwave purposely did that.
He continued, "Personally, I have to agree. As skilled as he is, the short fight isn't worth the coin per ticket. That's why I haven't seen any of his most recent fights."
She would kill to attend one of his fights, but she found herself agreeing with Magnesium; his matches were a bit pricey.
"What about the fight he lost? Did you see that one?" she questioned.
Magnesium smirked. "Now, that's what I consider a real fight...
"The Mighty Megatronus vs. The Sinister Soundwave. It was the Pit's most popular battle to date. The arena was packed to the brim as they waited to see Kaon's best Gladiators face off. Their battle was intense. Megatronus was almost bested by Soundwave. Let me tell you somethin', those mechs are beasts."
A shiver passed through her. "And what happened?" Darkstrike asked leaning forward, her optics widening.
"Well, Megatronus defeated Soundwave by a punch, at least that's what everybody says. I couldn't see slag 'cause of the commotion. The fight was very close, but Soundwave wasn't able to continue. Instead of finishing the mech off, Megatronus spared him. There was some speech about Megatronus deeming Soundwave as his equal and about corrupt Cybertron, but no one bothers listening to that slag."
His last comment irked her, but she decided to ignore it.
Darkstrike looked down at the counter in shock. The femme had received a couple of new revelations, but she was still hungry for any other information she could squeeze out of Magnesium.
"One last question," the femme began, "Is there a reason he wears a visor?"
"Beats me. He's always worn it, even from the beginning. Makes it hard for anyone to know what he's thinking. Not much of a talker either," he said, "But that's all I know. You can't really go up and ask him. From what I've heard, these mechs don't mess with him. I wouldn't either; he's capable of anything."
This seemed to satisfy the femme's inquisitive behavior. She bit her lip. Darkstrike leaned back and stared at her empty energon cube.
Soundwave had certainly built up a reputation for himself. It made her fear him just a little more.
"Why the interest?" Magnesium asked. His optics remained on the datapad.
She raised her optic ridges, surprised at his question. Darkstrike looked away.
"No reason."
"Don't tell me you're trying to fight him?" Magnesium probed.
"What? Of course not! I'd sooner end up dead," Darkstrike slightly blushed and looked away, "I'm just trying to make sure I stay out of his way," she lied.
"Ahh, I see what this is about..." he chuckled, "So, you're only interested in the higher ranking ones, huh?"
The implication made Darkstrike immediately glare at him.
Her faceplates flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Absolutely not, you glitch!" she exclaimed in self-defense.
Some nearby mechs quieted at hearing her voice. Darkstrike had spoken louder than intended. This caused some nearby mechs to stare at her. She couldn't help the heat that rose throughout her frame.
"Mind your own business!" she snapped. Such nosey mechs!
Darkstrike hoped no one had heard Magnesium's comment. Her defensiveness made her disregard that there were plenty of eavesdropping bots present. More importantly, the femme hoped the energon server wouldn't run his mouth about her curiosity for Soundwave.
Magnesium smirked at her.
She rolled her optics and stormed out of the room, in the same mood as when she entered.
A Few Orbital Cycles Later...
She swung at the punching bag multiple times. Every hit she landed encouraged her more. The flier planted her pedes on the ground and charged forward. The force of her attack made the heavy metal fly off the chains and break in two. It landed several mechanometers away.
She smirked. Not bad.
Her armor had grown tough. It was a slow process, but Darkstrike's body grew endurance. After countless victories and brutal losses, the femme had developed a higher pain tolerance. She still regularly received injuries, but she no longer ached as much after every fight.
The owner Lanyard had finally relented and stopped giving her as many fights. Though it had helped her grow as a fighter, she didn't foresee a future where she opposed the owners again. The femme feared they could do much worse.
As she went to pick up a piece of the punching bag, she noticed that the mechs around her gossiping more than usual. There was some commotion going around. She walked forward to see what they could be maundering about.
The flier immediately took notice of Soundwave. He wasn't alone.
She frowned in disbelief. A short femme chattered beside him. She casually gestured with her servos and leaned closer to get Soundwave's attention. The mech nodded and shook his helm occasionally. Darkstrike clenched the obstacle in her servos.
A flash of bitterness coursed through her.
The other femme had a pristine appearance. She had black armor, sultry pink optics, and a slim face. Metal barbed thin legs stuck out from her back. Her fancy armor shone in the light. Darkstrike couldn't tell if the smaller femme was a high-caste or courtesan.
She looked at her own rugged armor. There were lots of scratches marred on her frame. Her claws were unappealingly long compared to the spiderbot's short neat ones. Darkstrike had always liked her bigger armor, but she couldn't help but feel self-conscious at the other femme's slim figure.
The fighter watched as both Soundwave and her interacted. The high-caste femme gestured to the arena before turning around to reach for her datapad. She showed it to Soundwave. Darkstrike was unable to hear if he used his voice to respond.
She wondered if Soundwave mangled with every femme. Were their interactions nothing short of ordinary to him?
What did you expect? He's a powerful Gladiator, after all. He must have plenty of fans. You just happened to be one of many. Her processor continued to snap at her, only further expanding her ire.
Multiple questions arose in her processor: Did Soundwave only want to use her? If she didn't want to interface, would he go to someone else?
It had been orbital cycles since she had last seen him in the energon room. It wasn't on purpose; Darkstrike had been too busy trying to survive the orn. She thought he understood considering he'd come to watch one or two of her fights.
Darkstrike was beginning to believe that Soundwave would discard her once he got bored. The femme fighter didn't like thinking she was insignificant to him; she actually thought Soundwave was interested in her.
Her shoulders sagged as she clenched the obstacle tight in her servos. Her claws dug into the metal.
Who was the femme anyway? How much power did she have to waltz around the arena, talking to who she wished to. Darkstrike felt immediate mistrust for her.
Some rationality in her helm quietly advised against judging a bot she knew nothing about.
Darkstrike thoroughly denied that the reason for her anger could've been that she was young and easily susceptible to jealousy. The flier stubbornly held her ground; something about the femme grind her gears the wrong way.
Darkstrike inched closer to the scene. A nearby Gladiator continually glanced at the pair too.
"Hey," she called out to him. The mech perked up and smirked. He frowned and grunted when he saw it was her. The bot returned to his earlier task.
Darkstrike scowled, impulsively throwing the obstacle at his helm. Outraged, the mech turned around to glare at the femme.
"Hey!" she called out. He snarled at her.
"What d'you want?"
Darkstrike walked closer to him. "Who's that femme?"
The mech smirked. "That's Airachnid. The owners hired her vorns ago to sponsor Gladiators. She usually chooses insectibots, but she's known to make exceptions for top fighters," the bot said.
"Is a sponsorship good?" Darkstrike asked unimpressed.
The mech scoffed. "Are you stupid? Of course it's good. It means more money for us!" he shook his helm, "Amature."
She ignored his comment. So, that's why that femme was talking to Soundwave.
"Oh," Darkstrike perked up. The mech misinterpreted this.
"Don't get your hopes up. She hardly regards us mechs, much less you: a femme," he said. Darkstrike rolled her optics and went to pick up the obstacle piece.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
It explained a lot of things, but it still didn't pacify Darkstrike.
She watched the way Soundwave nodded in response to what Airachnid said. She saw how the other femme smiled, her demeanor devoid of any type of fear. She carried herself with a lot of confidence.
Jealously filled Darkstrike as Airachnid moved closer to Soundwave to show him her datapad.
So much for his reputation of not interacting with others.
Her servos conducted heat the harder she clutched the obstacle.
Darkstrike wanted to confront the femme. She was sure she could intimidate her into giving her answers. The flier would wait until no one was around.
Maybe she could pull it off.
But is maybe good enough?
Darkstrike took a backstep
What am I thinking?
The emotions in her spark were surpassing logical thought. She took a deep breath to compose herself. Darkstrike dropped the obstacle she'd been holding. There were marks from her claws. The heat within her systems slowly cooled down.
Her thoughts were becoming too cluttered. Darkstrike didn't even know the femme personally, yet she was becoming irrationally irked at her. The fighter needed to control herself. Soundwave was only a pastime to find excitement in the Pits. There were no strings attached because like she had said, there was no need to complicate the situation.
Besides, Soundwave was a mech with free will; he could talk to who he wanted. It was completely understandable if he had forgotten about her after orbital-cycles of not talking.
Intervening would only succeed in embarrassing herself. Darkstrike needed to keep whatever self-respect she had left.
Making her decision, she began to walk away.
As soon as she did, there was a loud smash. The sound was enough to startle her. Darkstrike quickly turned her helm to the source. Out of the corner of her optic, she saw the mech from earlier run away from the scene. He looked scared. As he disappeared, he threw her a pitied look.
Before Darkstrike could attempt to decipher his reaction, a voice yelled out.
"What's your malfunction?" Airachnid snapped. Darkstrike looked over at her.
The datapad the sponsor had been holding earlier was shattered at her pedes. There was a training obstacle next to it. Putting the pieces together, she realized that the other mech had likely thrown it, accidentally breaking Airachnid's property. Not wanting to get punished, he was letting her take the blame.
What a coward!
Both Soundwave and Airachnid looked at her. Darkstrike's optics widened, realizing she'd have to explain herself. She slowly walked over to them.
"Look, this is just a misunderstan–"
"Save the excuses," Airachnid scoffed, "Don't they usually have a leash on the courtesans of these areas?"
Darkstrike stepped back, surprised at how casually the sponsor affronted her. She had initially perceived her as the non-threatening type. The flier hadn't expected the other femme to act so condescendingly, especially when she appeared friendly to Soundwave only a few kliks ago.
"I'm a Gladiator working for the owners of this arena; I am no one's prostitute," Darkstrike declared angrily.
Airachnid paused momentarily. Something seemed to flicker in her optics. She wasted no time sizing her up. After a few nano-kliks, she gave an unimpressed "hm."
"I've seen more capable femme fighters," Airachnid remarked.
Darkstrike felt a sudden indignity. The offense struck her pride hard.
"I don't need to prove myself to you," the flier retorted defensively. She crossed her arms. "For such a small femme, you're one to talk."
"Size is useless if your competitor outclasses you with experience," the spiderbot quipped.
"Not unless both fighters have equal practice."
The sponsor grinned, showing off her fangs. "Is that a challenge I hear?"
The flier raised her optic ridges in surprise. Darkstrike's optics looked away momentarily as she figured out how to answer. Earlier before she had met Airachnid, Darkstrike had wanted to fight her. After realizing she had drastically overreacted earlier, she wasn't so sure anymore.
"Take it how you want," Darkstrike replied.
Her response made Airachnid frown and roll her optics. "How boring. At the very least, I thought Lanyard would have gotten a femme with some spunk in her."
Darkstrike glared at her, her temper rising. "I fight to survive, not to entertain bots like you."
"Oh, that's rich. Femme puts on a mech's armor once and suddenly she thinks she's 'one of the fighters,'" Airachnid paused, her face looking serious, "As oppressed as you want to feel, you can't erase your origins, Darkstrike..."
She immediately recoiled, her optics widening in shock. Her processor began exploding with questions.
She knows my name?
Does she know my past? Does she know who I am? Darkstrike had never met this bot before, yet she already knew information about her background. Was it a coincidence or was there more Airachnid wasn't telling? She didn't like the way the spiderbot had uttered her name.
"Did I strike a nerve?"
Again, anger began to boiling in her spark. Clenching her servos, Darkstrike stepped forward. The way she disrespected her felt more personal than any name-calling she'd ever experienced. Airachnid was set on reminding Darkstrike of her place, more than everyone else in the Pits.
I will not have another bot walk all over me!
She was tired of feeling helpless.
Darkstrike gave her a full once over. Along with her short height, the femme was thin. She didn't have a scratch on her frame. Nothing about her indicated she was an adept fighter besides the metal barbed thin legs sticking out from her back. Darkstrike determined that she could easily take her on.
Just as she was about to take another step forward, she glanced at Soundwave. He silently watched their exchange, completely passive. The femme fighter had almost forgotten that he was there.
This made her stop.
What would he think if she engaged in a fight with this bot? She glanced at Airachnid. The smaller femme wore an arrogant smirk on her face.
Reason began to return to her processor. It began to dawn on her that Airachnid was goading her, taunting her to get her riled up. Just like RocketShield, she was trying to elicit a response from her.
Worst of all, Darkstrike had almost fallen for it. She had completely ignored the consequences that could arise from engaging in a fight with Airachnid.
The femmebot was a sponsor, meaning she had special permission from the owners to be there. If Darkstrike attacked first, she would've been seriously reprimanded. She was barely recovering from her last punishment.
The flier couldn't believe how quickly she had almost resorted to violence. Before acting rash, she needed to compose herself and analyze the situation. I'm not some mindless brute.
She stepped back, her body relaxing. Her angry expression melted into a neutral frown. Airchanid's smirk vanished. She warily eyed her.
"Apologies for breaking your datapad. It won't happen again." She decided she wouldn't argue with Airachnid further. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get back to my training."
Before turning away, she threw Soundwave a secretive look. This made Airachnid glance at them both.
"You're dismissed," she replied.
Cycles Later
Darkstrike lied on her berth, thoroughly bored out of her processor. She never would've guessed that there'd be monotony in Kaon's most rambunctious Gladiator Pit. Even though training and fighting took up most of her time, there wasn't much to do during her free time.
She frowned at her ceiling.
One of these cycles she'd go explore the city. Since she knew how to defend herself, she wouldn't have to worry about being run up by miscreants. Kaon was notorious for being the crime capital of Cybertron.
Darkstrike had never gotten the chance to explore; when she had initially landed in the city for the first time, assassins had chased after her. After joors of running away from them, the femme managed to wind up in the Gladiatorial arenas. The rest was history.
Since then, Darkstrike hadn't ever left the Pits.
Since she classified a slave-type Gladiator, only after paying the fee was she allowed to leave with permission. Darkstrike was flat out broke; what little she had was being saved up for another upgrade. From the looks of her stashed currency, she'd inevitably be forced to stay for a long time.
The flier sighed. She was tired of training. Her next battle wasn't for a while. That left very few options on what she could do for entertainment.
Soundwave had been busy as well. The gossip circulating let her know that he had a fight soon. The femme had been able to catch him training hard, too. Spying on him wasn't her best moment, but spectating as he practiced had been extremely insightful for her. The way his body moved had ingrained into her processor.
Darkstrike blushed. It almost made her want to go seek him out again. The femme stood up from her berth.
Should I? She took a klik to think about it.
Darkstrike shook her helm, deciding against it. The odds of running into him so late were low. The flier wouldn't know what to say to him anyway. She hadn't seen him since her incident with Airachnid.
The femme bit her lip, wondering what exactly Soundwave thought of it. She hoped he didn't also believe she had broken the datapad. It could've made her look like a jealous femme, especially the way she had been staring at them from afar before the incident had occurred.
Soundwave could've been angry at her for interrupting an important moment. What if I ruined his chances of getting sponsored?
Her spark dropped at the realization. Now she definitely did not want to see him. Darkstrike would rather face her boredom than Soundwave.
She stood up once more. The femme would go insane trapped in her thoughts. Even engaging in a conversation with Magnesium was more appealing than lying on her berth.
Maybe I do need some company.
Magnesium would probably be cleaning and setting up for the next cycle. Hopefully, he wouldn't find it weird she wanted to gossip with him more. Making up her mind, she exited her room. The rec room was only a few kliks away.
As soon as she came close, Darkstrike could hear voices echo through the hallway. It sounded like a full room. The femme was confused. From what she knew, energon wasn't served this late.
There were loud cheers and singing. The mechs seemed to be chanting a tune. It was strange, even for them.
Seeking to find answers, she entered the room.
Darkstrike was met with the sight of groups of mechs behaving wildly. Some of them were dancing, others chatting loudly. There were countless objects being thrown back and forth. The femme ducked to avoid the crossfire.
She gave Magnesium a befuddled expression from across the room. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood, too. He laughed and threw his datapad in the air. Darkstrike caught it before it hit the ground.
She approached him, puzzled at their strange behavior. They were all very energetic.
"Magnesium, what is going on?" she asked, setting the datapad down. He gave her a crooked smile. Weird. Darkstrike raised an optic ridge.
"The o-owners received high grade today. They rewarded us fer working hard," he said, leaning against the counter. He began to close his optics while slowly dropping onto the surface. Darkstrike shook his shoulder plate.
"Magnesium?" she asked. A nano-klik later he rebooted and jumped up, startling Darkstrike.
"Everyone gets energon," he burst. He rushed back and slammed a few more cubes on the counter. "Here! On the house… er, Pit?" he questioned as he began to slip into slumber again.
"Magnesium...?" No response. "Ugh, you're overcharged," Darkstrike groaned. Her optics took notice of the energon supply behind the counter. She looked around, making sure no one was watching. All the mechs were too engulfed in their own lives to pay her any attention.
The flier hopped across the counter and quickly stored the supply in her subspace. She would be more astute than the mechs and save the energon instead.
As Darkstrike began to make her way towards the exit, she observed her surroundings. There were no traces of Soundwave
Her optics continued to scan the room. A group of mechs clumsily chugged their energon, throwing the cube in the air when they were done. Some of them were roughhousing and others were singing and behaving like close comrades. It was odd seeing so many mechs be friendly to each other.
As bored as she was, Darkstrike didn't want to take part in their social gathering. She was only a small distance from the door before she was spotted by a mech.
"Hey! Blackstrike! Where d'ya think you're goin'? You haven't even had a drink!" a voice yelled. She froze in her tracks.
The obnoxious voice made her double-take.
It was RocketShield.
By the looks of it, he was overcharged as well. Now she was truly bewildered.
"No thanks. I'd rather not indulge," she replied. He laughed at her. This made her narrow her optics. She knew what was coming.
"What, you think you're too good fer us? Or is it 'cause you're an itty-bitty femme and can't handle high-grade?" he challenged. A couple of bots came closer. Some of the mechs that gathered around her urged her to step up to the challenge. Others dismissed her, agreeing with the notion that she was weak.
Darkstrike could easily walk away. She didn't have to prove herself outside of battle. It wasn't a wise decision to drink and risk letting down her guard.
Then again, Darkstrike had come to the rec room in hopes of being entertained. They all were already overcharged. Being the most composed in the room, they wouldn't be able to take advantage of her.
A couple of drinks wouldn't hurt her, especially if she exercised self-control. Unlike these mechs.
She wouldn't let her guard down. The flier wouldn't allow herself to get to the same inebriated state as the rest of them.
The mechs looked at her expectantly.
"Give me one."
"Cybertronians! More than meets the optic!" Darkstrike continually sang. "Primus wage the battle to destroy... the evil forces of Unicron!" It was an old song that her creator had sung to her as a sparkling.
It was the first tune she could think of.
Primus. RocketShield knew how to intake large amounts of high grade. Half of the mechs in the room had already passed out. The flier would give him credit for it if he wasn't such an aft. He was actually a lot more tolerable when overcharged. Unfortunately, Darkstrike knew it was only temporary.
Her first cube of high-grade had been bitter. It had been a while since she consumed finer energon. The moment it hit her, the femme had felt more euphoric than she had in orns. The more she had drunk, the sweeter the liquid began to taste on her glossa. Her mood had lifted considerably.
Darkstrike leaned her helm back as she attempted to devour the cube all in one try.
Needless to say, the femme had lost count of the drinks she had consumed.
The mechs around her chanted, encouraging her to finish. When she ingested it all, they all shouted in glee. She discarded the cube, giving a big grin.
It feels good to be alive!
"Is that enough fr'you mechs? Or you want this f-femme to go a few more rounds...? Don't make me kick your afts!" she exclaimed loudly. The mechs burst out in loud, gruff laughs. Darkstrike raised her wings in pride.
She was finally beginning to feel like another Gladiator among them. It was a highly satisfying feeling. Darkstrike raised her arms in victory. The femme had interacted with them more that cycle than she had her entire time in the Pits. It was a bizarre experience that Darkstrike would probably forget in the morning.
She stood on the table, throwing the energon cubes to see how many each mech could catch. It was very comical to see them trip and stumble over each other. Darkstrike laughed loudly at the sight. The flier bent over, holding her torso as she guffawed at the mechs. Only after a couple of kliks was she able to calm down.
Primus, how long has it been since I've laughed?
She was having a great time.
That was, until a servo began sneaking up her leg. Darkstrike was abruptly taken out of her mood. She glared down at the mech that dared to lay a finger on her. Unsurprisingly, it was RocketShield. She snarled at him from on top of the table.
"Servos to yourself, 'Shield!" she growled.
"Oh c'mon! Ya not gonna let me taste the energon on you?" he asked with a sly smile. Darkstrike gagged, stomping the servo touching her ankle. She made sure it hurt enough.
"Arg!" he bellowed.
"I think Rocket here needs more high-grade! He's still talkin' nonsense!" she exclaimed. The femme threw a few cubes in his direction. The mechs dove at RocketShield, attempting to take the energon from him.
Darkstrike took this opportunity to jump off the table. Due to her unbalanced state, she slipped and fell hard on the floor. Okay, that's enough partying for one night.
The femme stood up, rubbing the spot where she hit herself. That's going to hurt in the morning.
She slipped through the crowd. Darkstrike was done celebrating. She stumbled out of the energon room, in no way ready to handle the state she was in. The young femme didn't have much experience being overcharged which meant the rest of the night would be rough.
She staggered through the corridors, anger overweighing her previous pleasant demeanor.
That idiot RocketShield certainly knew how to ruin the atmosphere. As fragged up as she was, her processor was still somewhat aware. Darkstrike was not about to let herself be taken advantage of.
She wasn't a damn courtesan. It would probably take winning a thousand fights before he realized that.
The other Gladiators had been much more agreeable. They were entertaining and dare she say, pleasant to be around. They treated her with no distinction; for a moment, they made her forget that she was different. In that joor, Darkstrike felt like she was a part of something. Not one femme against the world, but rather many Gladiators against the city Kaon.
"Took them fraggin long enough! I shoulda had their respect ages ago," Darkstrike used the wall to hold herself up.
She stopped, unable to continue further. Her optics blinked, attempting to force the dizziness to go away.
"Okay, I can do this." The femme took a wobbly step forward. Her leg stumbled, making her trip.
She sighed in frustration. Deep inside in the saner part of her processor, Darkstrike realized how unwise it had been to drink so much.
Even if she was starting to regret it, at least her need for entertainment had been satiated for the cycle. In a place that only allowed misery and death to flourish, Darkstrike believed she deserved to have a good time letting loose from time to time.
Of course, that might have been the high-grade talking. Though deep inside, she didn't care. Darkstrike didn't resist the inviting effects of the energon. At this point, she would use anything as an outlet.
The femme continued to stagger through the hallways, taking twice as many steps to prevent her from swaying too far. She attempted to walk straight but her body would slowly start to lean on one side. Darkstrike attempted to correct herself but the cycle repeated. It wasn't until she crashed into the wall that it stopped.
"Ugh, frag this. I'm going to my room," the femme murmured.
Unbeknownst to her, she wasn't the only one in the corridors.
Soundwave exited the showers. He was finished with his training for the cycle. Normally, he wouldn't work so hard, but his next match would be with a formidable opponent. He vowed that his fight with Megatronus would be the last time he lost.
Considering he'd be exerting a lot of energy within the next couple of cycles, Soundwave needed to stock up on energon. Knowing the owners had received a high-grade shipment, he decided to make his way to the rec room.
The Gladiators were likely celebrating. Soundwave wasn't fond of the rowdiness that came from it. He didn't like being in the company of any of the mechs on a regular basis; with the addition of over-consuming high-grade, they were even more intolerable. Unlike the other Gladiators, Soundwave only used the high-grade energon for sustenance. Completely losing inhibition wasn't something he liked doing.
He wasn't in the mood to go inside the rec room but the surplus of high-grade was limited supply. Soundwave would only go in with the intent of stocking up his energon rations and leave.
Coming close to the room, voices echoed through the hallway. The mech braced himself.
Interestingly enough, he could hear a femme's voice as well. It wasn't hard to tell who it was.
When he entered, he wasn't expecting to find the Darkstrike singing on one of the tables. She led the chorus of off-key mechs.
"Primus wage the battle to destroy... the evil forces of Unicron!"
What a peculiar sight; the same mechs that had harassed her on end during her first orns, now under the femme's claw as she urged them to sing. Even RocketShield eagerly waited for his cue at her pedes. Regardless if he was overcharged, he was a pitiful mech in all aspects.
He brought his attention to Darkstrike. The femme who had worked hard to win her battles and build confidence, now suddenly feeling more self-assured under the influence of mere energon.
It was a mystery how she teetered on the line of impulsivity and rationality.
Darkstrike had yet to notice him. He'd keep it that way for now. Soundwave quietly walked over to the counter. The server was already passed out.
He extended his tendrils to collect as much energon his subspace could hold. His optics scanned the room, making sure he didn't attract any unwanted attention. Completing his mission, he turned around. The exit was only a few mechanometers away from him.
After a long cycle, recharge would be the most astute plan of action.
His optics couldn't help but deviate towards the femme. While still on the table, she chugged an entire cube as the mechs around her cheered. Based on his intuition, he suspected she had very little experience with high-grade. If she did, she would have known drinking great amounts in such little time would result in an extreme lack of judgment.
"Is that enough fr'you mechs? Or you want this f-femme to go a few more rounds...? Don't make me kick your afts!"
It seemed that Darkstrike had much to learn.
Soundwave decided to observe her for a bit longer.
After drinking, she gathered as many cubes as she could before throwing them into the crowd of mechs. She was almost completely unguarded. He noticed the way she radiated with emotions. He didn't like it.
The femme released a laugh at seeing the mechs behave foolishly. It was a genuine sound lacking malice. He could hear the joy in her voice as she bent over, her laugher growing louder. The mech didn't understand why it vexed him.
He shook his helm.
Deciding that he had seen enough, Soundwave went to exit the room. She had taken up enough of his thoughts.
The door swished open. He gave her one last glance before leaving. He walked down the hallway, grateful for the quiet that graced his audios.
After taking a few steps down the next corridor, he heard the sound of pede-steps. Soundwave kept his guard up as he turned around.
"Took them fraggin long enough! I shoulda had their respect ages ago."
It was the femme. He could hear her from around the corner. Soundwave warily wondered if she had followed him. He was sure he hadn't been seen.
"Okay, I can do this," she murmured. The mech slowly made his way over to her, careful to remain hidden.
Soundwave watched as she stumbled and nearly tripped on her pedes. She was walking in the opposite direction. It seemed that the femme had exited the rec room shortly after him. As usual, their encounter was nothing more than a coincidence.
Darkstrike leaned on the wall to stabilize herself when her forearm suddenly slipped. Her servo flew through the air, scratching the wall in a feeble attempt to catch herself. The femme fell to the ground with a groan.
His assumption had been correct; Darkstrike was unable to handle the effects of overconsuming high-grade. It was a lesson she soon wouldn't forget. He watched as she picked herself off the floor.
"Frag, I'm such an idiot." Her choices were beginning to dawn on her.
Soundwave wanted to walk away. Yet, as he continued to stare at the femme, he felt drawn closer. Soundwave hadn't spoken with her in a long time.
In spite of himself, he approached her. The mech made sure to stay silent as he crept up from behind. Darkstrike didn't immediately notice his presence. She composed herself and moved forward.
"Slag. Where the frag is my room? You'd f-fragging expect these Pits to be easy to get around after living here for orns!" Darkstrike rambled. He came closer. When he was at a certain distance, he noticed the femme completely halt. She stiffened up. Soundwave continued, prepared for any sudden movements.
When he was close enough, Darkstrike turned around, claws ready to strike in his direction. Anticipating this, Soundwave quickly grabbed her wrist before she could make any contact.
Darkstrike's optics widened as she looked at his visor. Soundwave firmly held her in place, ignoring the femme's expression of discomfort. The fact that she was ready to react to danger meant that the high-grade hadn't entirely consumed her.
"Soundwave!" she exclaimed, "You s-scared the frag outta me!"
He did not like when she spoke with obscenities.
Her arm struggled to break free from his tight grip. "Okay, l-let me go. S'not like I can do slag to you anyways."
The mech loosened his hold on her arm as she pulled. This caused Darkstrike to stumble back onto the wall behind her. Her optics instantly turned in his direction.
"H-Hey! You did that on purpose!" she accused. He didn't respond. Her red optics studied his visor. She attempted to fix her pede stance. The femme exaggerated her movements when brushing herself off. She threw him a side glare.
Soundwave openly stared back at her.
He noticed the femme was behaving bolder than usual, even for her standards. In her normal state, Darkstrike didn't hide her emotions well but she at least was selective about what she said.
They silently stared at each other. Her glare turned into a gaze full of curiosity. He knew that look. Soundwave waited for the inevitable string of questions Darkstrike would ask.
"What do you hide b-behind that visor?" she asked aloud.
"I do not hide," Soundwave clarified.
"Then take off your mask," she replied. Soundwave felt his optics narrow. His servo clenched in a tight fist. Darkstrike saw the stance and backed up.
There was a moment of tension. He could see the regret on her face.
Soundwave shook his helm, letting the subject go. It didn't matter. Darkstrike was too much of a fool to be self-aware at the moment. He turned away, wanting to walk back to his room.
As soon as she saw he was leaving, she stumbled behind him.
"Wait! Wait!" she exclaimed. He continued walking. Darkstrike caught up to him but struggled to keep her balance. "Wow, you're fast."
He didn't reply.
"Okay, I'm-I'm sorry. I won't ask about the visor again," the femme apologized. Before he could respond, Darsktrike tripped and fell to the floor. Soundwave continued walking.
He heard shuffling behind him and then pede-steps. In a matter of two kliks, Darkstrike appeared at his side again. "You always—you always catch me at my worst," she swayed
Obstinate femme.
"So, uh... what's a mech like you doing awake at these joors? I'm guessing you're not the uh, partying type?"
"Company of other Cybertronians is best avoided," he said, looking at her.
She didn't seem to understand what he was implying. "O-oh, the other mechs aren't so bad once you get to know 'em."
"Correction; femme does not truly know mechs," his tone was slightly threatening.
"Then ma-maybe they realized I'm not so bad once they get to know me," Darkstrike refuted.
"Gladiators will not hesitate to defeat you in arena."
"Trust me. The feeling's still mutual," her voice was forbidding. This made Soundwave turn to her. He noticed her optics glowed a deeper red. For a moment she appeared serious.
In a flash, her lips curled up in a confident smile. "I'm not as stupid as you think."
He looked directly at her. "Femme is not completely unknowledgeable, but lacks common sense."
"Or-or maybe, I just choose to ignore common sense! Sometimes you have to be bold to get what you want," Darkstrike argued. She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The femme had the audacity to give him a full look over.
He wouldn't be scared off by her tactics.
Soundwave stepped further, causing the femme to stumble back. Before she could fall, he grabbed her forearm, shoving her against the wall.
"Frag!" she yelped. He backed her in, placing a servo next to her helm.
His other servo slowly neared the femme's neck. The mech watched to see if she'd flinch. Darkstrike's optics radiated with worry, but she remained unwavering. She stared at his visor, frequently glancing at his approaching servo.
Soundwave lightly grazed his fingers over her neck cables. The mech allowed himself to be gentle as he stroked the crevice between her neck and shoulder. He saw the femme immediately relax her body.
She tilted her helm to give him access.
Soundwave trailed his finger up her neck and onto her chin. He tilted her helm up to look at him.
"Are you prepared to deal with the consequences?" he asked.
"I know what I'm-I'm getting myself into," Darkstrike replied.
He highly doubted it.
Soundwave placed his servo on the small of her waist. Before she had any time to react, he pulled her frame against his.
"O-oh Primus!" The femme audibly gasped. His servos grazed over her hips. The blush on her face only increased. For the first time, he allowed his servos to caress her body, from her smooth protoform to the ridges in her armor.
He heard a moan. Darkstrike squirmed, her venting becoming heavier. He could feel the heat radiating off of her frame. The mech observed the details of her pale face. Her white pupils were dilated. Her red optics had darkened. She was averting his gaze.
Her act of false bravado was beginning to dissipate. Soundwave could smell evidence of high-grade from her lips.
As much as he liked putting her in her place, he preferred if she were in a better state of mind. He favored her erratic yet apt processor over the impulsive, impaired femme before him.
He began to back away. A servo suddenly latched onto his arm. Soundwave turned to the femme. Darkstrike wore a furious blush on her faceplates. Her optics darted around before she directed them at him. She took a deep breath. The femme took a step forward.
"I–I want—" was all she managed to say before she slipped and fell forward. Her grip on him was enough to keep her from falling. The femme leaned on him. She sighed frustratedly, unable to regain her footing.
"Okay, this isn't—this isn't working," Darkstrike groaned.
"High-grade energon is not for amateurs," he chastised.
The femme frowned and looked away. For a klik, they stayed in the same position. She appeared to be in deep thought.
Darkstrike looked up at him. The confidence in her optics returned once more. "Take me to the showers."
When they arrived at the showers, Soundwave led Darkstrike inside. She began venting heavily as the intense heatwave hit her. This was one of the effects of over-consuming energon.
He turned on the oil shower for her.
When he looked back at her, Darkstrike then began to do something unexpected. She stripped herself of almost every piece of dark-colored armor. Soon enough, her arms, abdominal, and long legs were exposed to him. The only armor remaining was of her chassis and mid-regions.
The pipes spluttered on. Before pushing herself in, she looked over at him with a flirtatious smile. "Thank you, Soundwave." The femme was taunting him.
She moaned as the oil began trickling down her frame. Soundwave watched, transfixed at her moving figure. Her body was openly exposed to him. Darkstrike's curvaceous figure twisted as the liquid trickled over her body. The light-grey proto-form burned into his processor.
He quickly looked away. Soundwave refused to give in to the attraction he held for the overcharged femme, especially if she was using it to her advantage. The mech had too much self-respect to fall under those degrading desires.
As soon as the pipes stopped flowing with oil, Darkstrike released a loud sigh. He heard her shuffle around. He assumed she was gathering her armor.
Soundwave noticed a piece near his pede. He grabbed it, turning back around to face the femme.
Rather than standing, Darkstrike sat on the floor, organizing all the pieces. He assumed she was still overcharged. She picked up the armor, inspecting it thoroughly before attempting to find where it belonged. When she was finished, her optics glanced up at him. She noticed he was staring.
"Like what you see?" she asked, leaning back to expose her frame more.
"Soundwave: only sees struggling femme," he replied.
Darkstrike frowned, "I'm p-perfectly fine now!" She shakily stood up, using the shower wall as support. The femme wobbled but otherwise remained standing. She smiled triumphantly.
He didn't respond.
The mech slowly walked towards her. He stood quiet with every step he took. At first, Darkstrike was unmoving. Soundwave stood up tall, his figure looming over her. She only began to appear nervous the closer he approached her.
"S-Soundwave?" the femme questioned. Her arrogant demeanor was disappearing again. A light blush graced her features.
Darkstrike's optics darted around. At first, she analyzed his movements, then glanced around the room. Her optics looked behind him.
Soundwave turned his helm. She was looking at the exit. It looked as if not all common sense had vanished from within her.
"No escape," he said. The femme's optics widened before narrowing at him.
"I'm n-not running," she stomped her pede down, "I'm making sure no one walks in on us..."
Soundwave extended his tendrils. Darkstrike's optics widened at the sight of them. She backed into the wall she was leaning on.
"Y-you're not trying to give me another upgrade, a-are you?" she nervously questioned.
The mech brought one closer to her face. He saw her optics regard his tendril with both curiosity and concern. It looked like Darkstrike was fighting not to flinch. He tormented her for just a bit further.
When she least expected it, his other tendril roughly attached the armor he had picked up earlier. The force pushed the femme. She gasped loudly.
"W-what the?" Darkstrike clutched her shoulder. She looked up at him in confusion. Soundwave took a few steps back.
"You-you tricked me?"
"Suggestion: Go recharge."
"Wait! We're not finished here," she said.
Soundwave titled his helm in warning.
"Okay, o-okay," Darkstrike sheepishly shrunk back.
Soundwave was done indulging in the femme for the time being. He had only gone into the rec room to take rations. The mech hadn't expected to get tangled up with Darkstrike. She had taken up his night; though, he supposed he was to blame for approaching her in the first place.
After all the training he had done earlier, all he wanted was to recharge.
"Soundwave: will depart," he stated. Giving her a simple nod, the mech began walking away.
"W-wait, where are you going?" the femme asked.
"Room," he stated. Soundwave proceeded. He heard shuffling behind him preceded by clumsy pede-steps. The mech only looked when he felt something–or rather someone, tugging his arm. His helm snapped towards her.
Darkstrike held his arm to hold herself steady. "I've been a pain i-in the aft tonight but…" she bashfully looked away.
"Proceed," he replied impatiently.
"I can't walk straight…" she sighed in frustration, "Can you w-walk me to my room?"
Soundwave stared at her, contemplating her request. He did not want to spend any more time around her than he already had.
Her optics showed worry when he didn't respond right away. "I-I know I'm a fool who drank too much. I p-probably won't remember much of this tomorrow. But, I will return the f-favor. You m-might have to remind me but I-I won't go back on my word!" she rambled.
Soundwave remained in thought.
"O-oh, come on! You already guided me to the showers. An extra stop isn't going to-to kill you!" Darkstrike pleaded.
After taking another klik to consider it, the mech grasped her arm, gripping it hard. "Come," he ordered. Soundwave began walking, ready to get it over with. Darkstrike tripped but his grip managed to keep her from falling. He dragged her until she was able to fix herself.
Would it kill him to slow down? Her loud thoughts were reaching him.
"Quicken pace or femme will get left behind," he threatened. The femme stared at him in surprise. She didn't reply, but he noticed she began walking faster.
They traveled through the hallways silently. Soundwave was grateful that the femme had nothing to say for once.
Though, the walk would be swift; he could already see Darkstrike beginning to stare curiously at him. The mech tugged her roughly to prevent her from asking questions.
Both of them walked through the building, slowly coming close to her hallway. As they made their way around a corner, Soundwave sensed something. He stopped, making the femme jerk forward.
"Hey–!" she began. The mech raised his arm up, signaling her to quiet. Darkstrike complied. He raised his audios to listen.
There were voices.
"Can you believe they already ran out of high-grade?"
Mechs were loitering the area. He looked down at the femme.
Soundwave was reminded of why he hadn't wanted to accompany her. Her presence would bring up many implications. He didn't want to deal with the unwanted attention or the rumors.
Aiding the femme always seemed to be troublesome for him.
Soundwave glanced around. The fighter noticed another diverging hallway. He supposed he'd have to take a detour. The mech pulled her into the corridor.
After a few kliks, Darkstrike began to drag behind. He tugged on her arm to communicate she needed to move faster.
"I'm trying m-my best, Soundwave!" she fumed. The mech was reminded of why he didn't like overcharged bots.
After a couple more twists and turns, they entered an area near the fighters' rooms. Soundwave glanced around, wary of any other mechs. At first, his surroundings seemed quiet enough.
He suspected it wouldn't last. The mech raised his audios.
Confirming his thoughts were the sound of mechs' voices. He sensed a group of mechs this time. Soundwave signaled the femme to stay put.
He carefully peered around the corner. Sure enough, a group of fighters lounged around, showing no signs of leaving.
To make the situation even more inconvenient for him, Soundwave noticed it was RocketShield and his group.
If he decided to walk through, the mechs wouldn't dare question him. The issue would be the rumors they'd perpetuate afterward, especially considering he had bet on the femme's fights in the past. Soundwave would never hear the end of it.
There was one more path he could take. The mech withdrew, taking Darkstrike with him. Before he would walk further, he felt the femme completely drop. She leaned her entire weight on him.
Soundwave looked at her for an explanation.
The femme struggled to stand. Darkstrike breathed hard. "I-I can't anymore. Everything's spinning... my legs are tired."
The mechs residing in the other hallway suddenly quieted. Soundwave froze.
"Hey did you hear something?
"Yeah, it came from over there."
Soundwave could already hear steps approaching them. He pulled her arm one more time. Darkstrike showed no signs of complying.
Deciding to take an alternative course of action, he approached her. The femme gave no reaction until he physically grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. One of his arms kept her in place. He ignored her gasp, more focused on avoiding the other mechs. He quickly walked into a new hallway. Soundwave managed to disappear before the other mechs came into view.
Once he was far enough, he slowed down to figure out their location. The femme gave a slight groan. Soundwave turned his helm to look at her.
"I-I'm good," she hiccuped "I just need to rest my optics…" Darkstrike began to fall into recharge. She started to slip off his shoulder plate. The mech had to keep a tighter grip on her.
His optics scanned the area. He concluded that they were near the high-ranking chambers. Soundwave almost considered leaving her where they stood. His room wasn't far.
A baffling idea crept its way into his processor.
He thought of the possibility of bringing her into his room for the night. It would eliminate any further obstacles they could face. However, bringing her could give him more problems than she was worth.
Soundwave glanced at her again. Darkstrike remained passed out. His interest in the femme certainly brought him many hindrances. The mech would gladly take the femme's offer of repayment for aiding her.
Pede-steps began to emanate behind him. It seemed he had to make his decision soon.
Wasting no time, Soundwave walked into the hall. Once he reached his door, he typed in the code. He gave one final glance.
The shadows along the walls showed the silhouette of two approaching mechs.
Soundwave fully entered his room, the door shutting behind him. Walking over to his berth, he ungracefully threw the femme on top of it. The sudden movement woke her up.
Darkstrike jumped up, scrambling to sit. Her optics frantically glanced around the room before landing on him. Her expressions rapidly changed.
"Where'm I?" she asked.
"Soundwave's chambers," he responded.
Her optics widened. She looked down at herself, patting her armor. "What h-happened while I knocked out?"
He didn't reply, opting to let her figure it out for herself.
A large blush began spreading across her faceplates. Her long legs pressed together, arms wrapping protectively around herself. "I-I've never done this before, Soundwave."
He realized what she must have inferred.
"Hallways: Crowded. Darkstrike's room is inaccessible. Recharge here," he stated.
The femme immediately relaxed. "O-oh." Her optics then began to roam around. "So, this is your room?"
Soundwave ignored her, beginning to clear his workspace. If he wouldn't be recharging, he'd take advantage to catch up on his project. When he turned back around, he saw she was openly staring at him. The mech recognized the questioning expression she wore.
"Femme," he warned.
"Do you take off your visor at night?" Darkstrike asked.
Soundwave's patience grew thin. "Recharge: Now," he commanded.
Darkstrike didn't argue further. She clumsily fell back onto the berth. Her optics glanced at him before slowly closing. Recharge overcame her quickly.
The mech stared down at her, his ire slowly pacifying. He appreciated the silence.
After organizing his tools, Soundwave removed the heavier parts of his armor. The Gladiator glanced at the femme. She was still recharging. Darkstrike was no longer a threat at this time.
Soundwave pressed his fingers on the edge of his helm. It gave a click. He removed his visor, setting it down on his workspace. His bare optics stared at the femme. The crimson color radiated in the darkness of the room. He decided to approach Darkstrike.
The mech watched as her chassis rose and fell.
He didn't deny that Darkstrike held beauty. His optics roamed her facial features and frame. Other mechs would envy his circumstance.
Soundwave grimaced.
He couldn't believe the other Gladiators were obsessed with such a problematic femme. If only they knew how much trouble she was.
Just as he was about to walk away, he heard her shuffle on his berth. Soundwave scrutinized her.
He could have sworn he saw her red optics flicker open.