Chapter 7
Soundwave managed to progress in his project, despite femme's presence. Even while asleep, Darkstrike managed to pester him.
He turned to her.
The mech observed the way the femme remained motionless. His optics drifted over her frame. Her armor was marred with dents and scratches. The dark paint had faded away in some areas. The noticeable scar on her wings drew his attention. The femme had been seemingly pristine when first arriving. Her unkempt appearance was proof of her endless struggle. It filled him with pleasure seeing her marred perfection.
Soundwave was mildly surprised that a bot of her background had survived this long. Though her strength had limits, Darkstrike's spirit was unyielding.
For now.
The high-ranker was impartial to whether the femme succeeded or failed. He only wanted to be present to see the outcome.
He shook his helm. There was no use clouding his thoughts with such trivialities.
It was likely that she wouldn't awaken any time soon. After the amount of high-grade she had consumed, Soundwave predicted that she'd wake up far into the cycle, clueless to the events of the night before.
The mech couldn't help but think back on it. The reason the femme laid in his berth now was because he had approached her last night.
Not accounting for their brief interaction with Airachnid, it had been orbital-cyles since Soundwave had last seen Darkstrike. It was easy to forget about her over time. Directly interacting with her only fueled his interest. Whether they talked or made contact, the femme would invade his thoughts for the remainder of the cycle.
If possible, he purposely tried to avoid her. With the unrest growing on Kaon, Soundwave had his own circumstances to worry about. The femme had been plenty busy herself, attempting to survive Lanyard's punishment. He preferred it stayed that way.
Soundwave made the mistake of doing the opposite last night.
The femme was like a troublesome scraplet, always making her appearance at inconvenient times. He didn't understand why she was still interested in him after orns of no contact.
Soundwave understood lust; a few courtesans shared his berth occasionally. Darkstrike didn't seem to want such a simple arrangement.
Truthfully, he didn't either. Soundwave knew too much about the femme. He wasn't interested in engaging in such primal acts with her. After all their involvement together, interface would be too personal for his liking.
Luckily, she made it clear she wasn't fully ready for intercourse. Though, based on the advances she made on him, it would only be a matter of time. He didn't want to think about it.
Being a young femme, it was possible Darkstrike didn't know what she truly wanted yet. She would eventually stop making attempts if Soundwave stopped humoring her. It was best if he considered distancing himself more before they did anything regrettable.
Another possibility was waiting to see if she lasted through the full vorn without losing her Gladiator career. As much as he attempted to predict her fate, in the end, Darkstrike would be the one to sculpt her future. He had yet to comprehend much about the femme.
Soundwave recalled the incident from a few cycles ago as an example. For the most part, the events had been entirely unexpected.
The owners hadn't given him a forewarning about Airachnid wanting to sponsor his next fight. It was likely they knew Soundwave purposely avoided her when she visited. Sponsors exploited Gladiators, stealing their earnings and then leaving them to rust. It was all an elaborate rouse; he had been in the Pits long enough to know how it all functioned. Soundwave made triple than a low-ranking Gladiator, an aspect that Airachnid was attracted to.
The femme had shown up unannounced, prepared to discuss business. Despite his efforts, Airachnid wasn't easily scared off. Perhaps in the future, he'd have a valid reason to put her in her place.
Her presence caused a scene; the mechs around the area took notice of her and traveled closer. Soundwave was not fond of the attention, whereas Airachnid lavished in it.
After enduring the femmebot's presence for several kliks, Soundwave had caught something out of the corner of his optic. He recalled seeing the recognizable armor from afar. It was Darkstrike.
Airachnid had noticed her, too. Her pink optics darted towards the other femme, her expression becoming curious. For a nano-klik, she stared unabashedly. With the sponsor's attention diverted, Soundwave had attempted to leave.
The femme wasted no time blocking his path again to resume her aimless chatter. Though, he had noticed the way her optics began darting away more often than usual.
It wasn't until Airachnid had allowed herself to become distracted enough to miss seeing an obstacle fly her way. The mech that caused the accident managed to slip away.
Seeing no one else, Airachnid had conveniently placed the blame on Darkstrike.
Although he'd spotted the accident, Soundwave had chosen not to intervene. If the femme was truly a Gladiator, she could handle the predicament herself.
The scene that followed had been brief yet diverting.
The sponsor had openly antagonized Darkstrike. She had thrown insults and remarks intending to anger her. The mech was unsurprised by how receptive the femme had been to her tactics.
Darkstrike's temper was a weakness if others could use it to get the better of her. Airachnid provoked her easily. He could clearly see the malintent through the sponsor's sly smirk and deceptive glint. Despite not recognizing her initially, it was apparent that she knew of Darkstrike somehow.
For a moment, Soundwave had braced himself for a fight. He could feel the femmes' attitudes clashing. The air rung with tension.
Before anything occurred, Darkstrike turned to him briefly. She had glanced at his visor. He could see realization in her optics.
In that instant, she had turned away, her red fury melting into doubt. The mech almost wished he had pried her processor to find out what crossed her mind at that moment.
Her claws had unclenched, her posture becoming less defensive.
Darkstrike's retreat had surprised Airachnid and himself.
The result was the sponsor's indignation. Her usual charming facade had melted, revealing the femme's true nature. The spiderbot hadn't been able to completely recover from the interruption, even after Darkstrike excused herself. She attempted to melt back into her sultry mask, but Soundwave saw through it. Shortly after, Airachnid had moved onto the next mech.
He glanced at Darkstrike's sleeping figure.
The other cycle's events only reinforced the notion that he couldn't fully anticipate all of Darkstrike's actions.
Best he stopped thinking about it. There were more important things to concentrate on.
Soundwave turned his attention back to his blueprints. He would have to remain focused if he wanted to speed up the plans for the drone. He cursed the femme for infecting his thoughts.
Even before Darkstrike opened her optics, she could feel it— the painstaking processor-ache.
The pounding in her helm intensified when she shifted her frame. She groaned loudly. The femme clenched her optics shut, hoping that it would go away.
It didn't.
Darkstrike used a servo to clutch her helm.
What did I do last night?
She attempted to visualize the memories from the cycle before. It was very hazy, especially near the end of the night. Darkstrike revisited the moment leading up to when she had entered the energon room. Her biggest recollection was drinking more than she could handle.
Darkstrike was able to remember parts of it: high-grade energon, festivities, singing, anger, encounters, Soundwave.
Soundwave!
The femme shot up from the berth. Darkstrike's excitable state caused her to fall off. She landed on the cold floor.
"Slag…" she groaned. Her body felt sore. She looked up and found Soundwave sitting at his workspace.
Darkstrike's optics widened. She scrambled to stand up. The femme confusedly looked around the room. Her spark began beating hard. She didn't recognize the living space.
"A-am I in your room?" Darkstrike asked.
Soundwave nodded.
The femme couldn't help but pat her armor down. All of it was still intact.
"What–um, happened?" she asked, feeling overwhelmed.
"What does femme remember?" he asked.
Darkstrike sat down on the berth. She closed her optics to search for the hidden memories. What happened after I encountered Soundwave?
He had scared her by surprising her from behind. Darkstrike remembered asking him intrusive questions. Given her clouded judgment, she had behaved inappropriately.
The femme had drunkenly flirted with him, and not in her usual coy way.
Soundwave steadily challenged her when she had attempted to come onto him. He was beginning to catch onto her act. She thought back to the way he had pulled her against him. Their frames fit well together. His servos were unyielding as he caressed her body.
A hot blush crept its way to her face. Darkstrike bit her lip, trying not to squirm.
After that, she recalled him leading her to the showers. The femme suddenly remembered how she'd given him a good view of her bare protoform. Her spark further burned in mortification. She felt utterly foolish.
Darkstrike had taken it too far. Thinking about it now made her grimace in embarrassment.
She buried her face into her servos.
That hadn't been all. One of the last things she remembered was pushing her luck by asking Soundwave to take her to her room. He hadn't been too eager. All the times where she'd slipped and fallen hard on the ground were coming back to her. No wonder I feel so sore.
There were faint memories of her being dragged around the Pits. She figured she passed out somewhere in between. Seeing as the flier wasn't in her room, she assumed they hadn't made it very far.
"Why did you bring me here and not my room?" Darkstrike questioned.
"Mechs crowded hallways. Soundwave did not want to be seen with femme," he stated. His words uncovered the rest of the hidden pieces in her processor.
Unable to stand because of the dizziness, Soundwave had carried her until he reached his room. He certainly hadn't been gentle, especially when he had woken her up by dumping her on the berth.
"I-I've never done this before." Her words echoed in her helm.
Did I say that?
Why did I say that?
Darkstrike frantically searched her processor. She had definitely misinterpreted the situation. Great, now he knows I've never interfaced before... The femme buried her face in her servos again.
Before she fully passed out his berth, the last thing Darkstrike recalled was seeing red optics. As hard as she tried to remember, the only thing she could make out was a dark silhouette and a red glowing color.
She perked up, turning to Soundwave. The femme examined him suspiciously. Considering it was just them in the room, those crimson optics couldn't have belonged to anyone else.
Darkstrike wondered if he knew. Judging by the way he continued working, he didn't seem all that fazed. After a klik or so of staring at him, he turned her way. The flier awkwardly stood up, pointing her optics away.
"I remember all of it now..."
What a mess...
The femme decided that it was time to go. After yesterday's events, all she wanted to do was lay in her own berth. Darkstrike was sure Soundwave wanted to do the same. She didn't want to burden him any longer.
The femme felt like she needed to repay him somehow. She remembered all the cubes she stored the night before. Giving him some high-grade should even it out.
Darkstrike reached into her personal storage only to find that it was empty. The femme froze for a nano-klik before frantically checking her subspace again.
"Where are my cubes?" the flier asked herself. She couldn't have drunk them all yesterday.
Darkstrike looked up at Soundwave. The mech moved out of the way so she had a clear view of his workspace. On it lay her datapad and energon cubes. Her optics widened in surprise.
"You went through my subspace?" she asked, taken aback.
Soundwave nodded. "Weapons might have been at disposal."
Although she wasn't a threat to him, it was a valid possibility to think she could wake up confused and angry.
Darkstrike walked over to collect her things. She left a couple of cubes on his counter.
"This is for any troubles I might have caused you yesterday," Darkstrike replied.
Soundwave stared at her.
"I apologize for my behavior. It won't happen again," she sheepishly rubbed her arm, "I think it's best if I leave now."
The femme quickly made her way over to the door.
She attempted to push the button to open it. Much to her surprise, it didn't comply. Darkstrike tried again. The result was the same.
"What the? What's wrong with this?" Darkstrike questioned.
"Door is modified to lock on both sides," he responded.
"What?" she asked, increasingly getting nervous, "How do you even get it to lock from the inside?"
Soundwave didn't audibly reply. He stood up. The mech immediately appeared a lot bigger. Darkstrike took a step back, unsure of his intentions.
He took a step forward before his visor suddenly lit up.
"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!" Soundwave replayed the audio recording.
Her face flushed. "H-how, er when did you record that?"
He didn't answer.
Attempting to compose herself, Darkstrike cleared her throat. "Is my energon not enough?"
"Femme was assisted to both showers and room," he replied, "Darkstrike is still indebted."
Her shoulders sagged in disbelief. "Really?"
"Acts of mercy are not without cost in Pits."
The flier supposed he was right. Darkstrike hadn't expected him to help her out of the kindness of his spark. After last night's antics, it was only natural he'd want retribution.
She placed her servos on her hips, "What type of favors are we talking about?" Despite her circumstance, Darkstrike couldn't help the glint of mischief that shone through her optics.
Soundwave took another step closer to her.
Though she tried to remain unfazed, her spark beat faster the more he neared her. Darkstrike was unable to decipher his thought process. The femme noticed he had something in his servo.
His helm neared hers. "Do not act coy," he said, "Femme has already admitted inexperience."
She could feel her face engulf in heat. Darkstrike crossed her arms, indignantly looking away. "I don't remember saying anything like that."
The mech ignored her and handed her a datapad. "Darkstrike will earn freedom."
"Earn my freedom?" The femme took it and began inspecting it. She couldn't help her curiosity.
"Query: What is Darkstrike's history of education?"
"Well…" She looked away. The femme hadn't expected him to ask her that. She wondered why he wanted to know about her background all of a sudden. "I was given a great education."
It had been a while since she recalled her previous caste. Reminiscing always gave her a sick feeling in her tanks. Darkstrike wanted to completely forget her past life.
"Funny enough, I was actually pursuing a career as a secretary," she continued.
The femme became self-conscious when Soundwave didn't say anything. He stared at her. She huffed and crossed her arms.
"Not by choice! Anyways," the femme began, "To fully answer your question, I have a background working with technology. My skills were oriented around administration, organization, and communication."
He demonstrated another datapad from his subspace. With the tap of the screen, it lit up. The flier took a few kliks to read the paragraphs he displayed. When he swiped to the next page, she was met with complex schematics and models.
Darkstrike raised her optic ridges.
He was building a robot. Though, the blueprints suggested he wanted to build something more complex. The details were incredible. She marveled at the information.
"You're constructing a living drone!" she exclaimed, "Did you do this?"
Soundwave dimly nodded.
She admired the blueprints. A level of craftsmanship and creativity was needed to build something like this from the ground up. For being a Gladiator, Soundwave seemed to have an education of his own.
"Did someone show you how to do this or are you self-taught?"
When he didn't respond, Darkstrike figured he had nothing to say. She continued to feast on the information before her. Her optics scanned the page, attempting to memorize it.
The mech made a move to grab it. Before the femme could protest, he took the datapad away.
"Self-taught," Soundwave stated.
Her optics darted to him in surprise.
"Can I see what you built so far?" she asked.
The mech traveled over to his workspace. Darkstrike didn't hesitate to follow.
She noticed his desk was organized. His tools were laid in a consistent manner, all categorized by size.
Come to think of it, the rest of his room is also neat. Darkstrike glanced around. The space was very clean. He had few creature comforts. Just like she imagined, Soundwave preferred to be simple and orderly in all aspects.
She brought her attention back to his project.
The mech demonstrated the prototype drone. It was only the base, but Darkstrike was still very impressed. She wanted to take it in her servos and inspect it, but she saw the way Soundwave was intently watching her. His intimidating demeanor was enough to communicate to her not to try anything. It seemed like this was important to Soundwave.
Darkstrike spark leaped from her chassis. "You want me to help you?" she asked excitedly.
He pointed to the datapad in her servos. "Dissect all information that can pertain to drone."
Darkstrike turned the device on and skimmed over the title. "Aerodynamics: Thrust, Weight, Drag, and Lift." The femme immediately deflated. She wasn't getting directly involved in his project, more so just collecting data for him.
"So… you want me to be a secretary then."
"Be more efficient," he replied.
"If you'd like, I can help you directly with the drone. Maybe my background doesn't impress you but I can quickly learn–"
"Negative. Assistance: Not required."
Darkstrike couldn't help but feel indignant. She had a feeling Soundwave thought she didn't have the capability to help him with such a massive project.
"But it might help quicken the process and I can–" she was cut off again.
"Unnecessary," he responded, "Femme is merely repaying debt."
She felt reality slap her in the face. Right… I forgot about that. This isn't supposed to be enjoyable.
She bit her glossa. Darkstrike felt a bit foolish for thinking he truly wanted her expertise.
The femme knew she could help, but words alone weren't enough to convince him. That meant she would have to prove her worth through her actions. It would take a lot of her effort to impress him. If that was even attainable.
Darkstrike grabbed the datapad. She noticed Soundwave had already gone back to work. The femme sat back on the berth to begin her own progress.
After a night of acting reckless, she was grateful to have an opportunity to redeem herself. Darkstrike clicked on the first page.
For joors, the femme patiently went through as many pages as she could. There were too many; Darkstrike knew she wouldn't be able to finish today. That didn't stop her from trying, though.
The room was silent. Too engrossed in the datapad, the flier had remained quiet while there. As always, Soundwave never had much to say.
Darkstrike was content with the atmosphere.
Though she'd never say it out loud, the femme was quite lonely in her own room. Although this was supposed to be work for her, it was also an excuse to be in Soundwave's presence. The fact that he had chosen to take her inside his room and allowed her to stay meant he tolerated her presence, at the very least.
She checked the time. Darkstrike supposed it was time for a break. Setting the device down, the femme sat up. She couldn't help but go over to peer at Soundwave's work. He seemed to be working on a different part.
He glanced at her when she approached his workspace.
"How long am I allowed to stay here for?" she asked as she stretched.
"Read half of datapad," he replied.
"Alright." She curiously peered over Soundwave's shoulder, attempting to read the page he was on. He shifted his datapad away from her gaze.
"I'm merely looking. It's not like I'm going to break it," she remarked.
He looked at her for an extra klik. Darkstrike noticed and responded by raising an optic ridge.
When he didn't remove his gaze from her, she became self-conscious. She glanced away, thinking back on her words.
Her optics widened. Immediately, she remembered the incident with Airachnid.
Soundwave eventually returned his attention to his datapad.
Swallowing hard, the femme figured it was better to explain herself than to hide from the events of that cycle.
"I never asked if you lost your sponsor," Darkstrike spoke up.
"Affirmative," he replied, not bothering to look up.
She bit her lip. Darkstrike had optimistically hoped that hadn't been the case. "I'd like a chance to explain myself."
Soundwave turned to face her.
Darkstrike scrambled to find the words in her processor. "I noticed a crowd surround the both of you. I walked over to investigate," she said, "By the time I was walking away, I heard something shatter. That's when Airachnid spotted me."
"True perpetrator: nearby mech," he stated.
A wave of shock hit her. "You-you saw it happen?"
Soundwave nodded.
"Every bot for themselves, huh?" Darkstrike narrowed her optics.
"Correct," he declared.
"At least now I don't feel guilty about you losing your sponsor..."
"Femme unnecessarily took blame," he pointed out.
"I realized she wasn't worth my time." Darkstrike couldn't help but scowl.
"Darkstrike holds animosity for Airachnid," Soundwave observed.
"I'm more than justified after what she said." The femme crossed her arms.
He stared at her intently. It seemed like he didn't want to drop the subject yet. Soundwave stood up from his seat.
For a moment, Darkstrike felt her helm start to ache gain.
"You are displeased that background is common knowledge," he spoke.
She averted her optics down. This was the third time her upbringing had been brought up. It was the most she had thought about it since first arriving to the Pits.
Darkstrike felt like Soundwave's statement was the opposite; bots didn't know enough about her past so they made their own false conclusions. Contrary to what others believed, the femme hadn't lived a luxurious life before residing in Kaon. As much as her creators would disagree with her now, her past status fell in between high and low caste.
Soundwave's voice startled her out of thought.
"Correction: you are displeased at fabricated assumptions," he said.
Darkstrike's spark began beating faster. She was unsure how he had drawn that conclusion. Am I that obvious?
Maybe it's my reactions. She straightened her face, attempting to remain neutral.
"It is not your expressions that reveal the truth," Soundwave explained.
Her mouth gaped open. There was a sudden sensation in her processor. She pressed a servo to her forehelm, attempting to ignore it.
"Darkstrike hides from past."
The femme indignantly looked away, turning to face the other wall. "I'm not hiding from anything."
Soundwave wasn't entirely wrong. Darkstrike didn't like remembering the social war she endured while living in Altihex. Thinking about it only served to dampen her spirit.
The femme turned back to him. Much to her surprise, he was standing closer to her. They openly stared at each other.
"Darkstrike's place of origin: Altihex City," Soundwave spoke.
Impossible! Her red optics dilated.
"Impossibilities: For simple-minded," Soundwave said.
The flier froze. A terrifying sensation traveled up her back and into her spark. He's reading my mind!
"Stop!" Darkstrike closed her optics and grit her denta in hopes it would allow her to concentrate shielding her processor. Something definitely felt off. Though, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't sense the intruder.
When the femme opened her optics, he was back at his workspace.
"Continue working," he commanded, "Cease distractions."
It took her a a few kliks or so to compose herself. Without protest, Darkstrike picked up the datapad to resume her work.
Even after time had passed, she couldn't shake off the paranoia. She checked her processor numerous times. Her optics kept darting to him until the feeling of unease wore off.
The femme couldn't help but think that maybe she didn't truly know who she was dealing with.
Joors Later...
Darkstrike recovered from the anxious feeling after settling on the conclusion that she was imagining things. It was better if she didn't dwell on the conversation.
It certainly helped put her mind at ease. With the steady focus, Darkstrike managed to build momentum in her progress.
It had been a while since she had processed this much information. Practicing battle strategies was one thing. Researching how to engineer a drone to fly was completely different.
Despite her continual processor ache, it felt refreshing.
Darkstrike had managed to breeze through many pages. Her processor quickly took in the information, annotating and organizing it based on importance. She made sure to write down the jargon she was unfamiliar with.
Understanding the concepts was hard enough. Applying it to a real-life model proved to be even more difficult. Her main goal was finding what physical characteristics were needed to gain flight. Given her status as a flier, she had a lot of background information.
Her optics flickered in Soundwave's direction again. She hadn't bothered him since her break.
Darkstrike bit her lip, wondering if she should disrupt the peaceful silence.
She checked the time. It was definitely a good stopping point. Her aft was getting sore sitting all cycle.
The femme stood up from the berth and stretched her joints. Grabbing the datapad, she tentatively made her way over to Soundwave's workspace. Darkstrike waited for him to finish. She watched as he diligently worked, grabbing his tools, never once hesitating. His servos worked fast.
Although Darkstrike never underestimated him, she would've never imagined a Gladiator holding this much insight. To think he was self-taught, too. The femme almost considered herself a sapiophile for Soundwave.
Her servos nervously twitched as she leaned in closer to get a better look. The mech suddenly stopped working.
"Your query?" Soundwave asked, not looking away from his task. Darkstrike flinched back, a bit embarrassed.
"N-no, I'm just watching," she replied. He set down his materials.
This made the femme perk up. "Now that I have your attention though, I wanted to show you the progress I've made."
She set it down on his desk so they could both see. "I went through all the redundant information and narrowed it down to the most important facts," she swiped to another page. "Here are all my annotations with the page number next to it. I also bookmarked pages that explain how the four forces of flight interact with each other. As I read along, I made a list of some of the essential pieces you need to make this drone flight bound. Oh! And this page has a list of important jargon. I couldn't provide definitions for all of them, though."
He took a couple of kliks to read over her work. The femme eagerly awaited his response. Her spark began beating faster with every nano-klik that passed by.
Soundwave nodded and stood up. The action startled Darkstrike.
"Passcode is 89076. Darkstrike is dismissed." He plucked the datapad from her servos. The mech walked around her, starting to put away his tools.
The femme frowned. "That's it?" She raised an optic ridge. The flier wasn't expecting praise, but a simple acknowledgment would have sufficed.
"Debt is repaid," he answered.
"I believe I can be of use to you," she interjected, "I haven't finished, but I've completed a lot. I can return to continue–"
"No," he curtly responded.
Frustration began to well up in her spark. "I am not as empty-minded as you think. I've proven that to you."
"Do not push luck after last night," the mech threatened.
Darkstrike blushed as she reacted indignantly. "I'm entitled to have some fun, especially if I'm going to be locked in the Pits for the rest of my life."
Soundwave stopped what he was doing. He turned to face her. "Why?" he asked.
"Uh, why?" Darkstrike asked, thrown off by his question, "Why what?"
"Why do you desire to assist Soundwave?" He took a step closer.
The femme was taken aback. Her optics briefly looked down at the ground. There were many responses she could give.
Am I trying to prove myself? Is it recognition I want or... something else?
"I need a challenging task to focus my processor on. I want to further expand my knowledge, especially with all the time I have on my servos," she replied.
Soundwave remained unresponsive. He approached her slowly. The mech seemed to be observing her.
He circled around, giving her a full once over. It made her nervous. Darkstrike concentrated hard to shield her mind from him. She couldn't sense anything.
"That is not the full truth," he stated. The femme couldn't help but take a step back from him.
"How do you know?" Darkstrike eyed him warily, "Is it... is it because you can read my mind?"
Darkstrike had always suspected that Soundwave knew more than he let on. If he had the ability, it would only confirm her thoughts.
"I do not like being lied to," he retorted.
His response wasn't a denegation. It seemed Soundwave was letting her decide for herself.
She blinked hard and then looked at him. "If you must know, I intend to get your respect by proving to you that I am a capable bot."
It wasn't a lie.
Soundwave neared his helm close to hers. They were only inches apart. He studied her for a klik or so. The femme self-consciously looked away.
The mech seemed to find what he wanted. He backed away, walking over to his workspace. Soundwave didn't speak.
This made Darkstrike feel more hesitant. She didn't like his response. The femme suddenly didn't feel satisfied with the explanation she had given him. There was more she felt like she had to say.
"Okay," the flier sheepishly spoke, "Truth be told, I'm interested in helping because I believe I can learn a lot from you. I, um…" The femme glanced away.
Soundwave's attention was on her again. He stopped what he was doing. "Continue."
Darkstrike hesitated before speaking. "I f-find your work very impressive. I respect how capable you are— actually, after all you've done for me... I respect you as an individual.
"You've probably been working on this project for a while; I'm not taking it lightly. I want to help you because I've helped create instead of destroy for the first time in orbital-cycles. If you would allow me to work under you, I believe our combined efforts could make a very capable drone." Her blush shone brightly in contrast to her light faceplates.
The mech approached her again. He watched her intensely.
Darkstrike left her processor unguarded. If he really could invade her processor, she wanted him to see she was being fully honest.
The femme couldn't tell what he was thinking. Then again, that was most of the time.
He stopped when he was right in front of her.
"Darkstrike feels fear," Soundwave said.
"Y-yes," Her vermillion orbs looked directly at him. "But it drives me further."
She suddenly realized how close they were.
His armor appeared iridescent, shining even in the bad lighting of his room. Violet biolights illuminated his frame all over. He had very few scars and dents. Darkstrike could tell he had taken an oil bath recently. She let his aroma fill her olfactory sensors.
Darkstrike boldly closed the distance between their frames.
Within kliks, the atmosphere began to change.
Soundwave's larger frame pushed her back. She felt her wings collide with the side of the berth. The femme gasped. Darkstrike allowed his servos to pull her hips in closer.
To embarrassed to say anything, she let her optics communicate her excitement.
His long fingers dug into her armor. The rough way grabbed her, accompanied by the feeling of his sturdy frame made Darkstrike grow hot. He snuck a leg between her thighs.
"Ah! Soundwave!" she flushed profusely. His servos began drifting to other areas. The sensation lit her frame up. It was becoming increasingly hard to remember what they were talking about.
"W-wait!" she weakly interjected.
"Do you not find enjoyment?" he uttered lowly into her audio.
"Y-yes," her spark pulsed hard, "Of course, b-but…"
His servo began crawling up her back. He stroked the base of her back where her wings began. Darkstrike gasped loudly.
She needed to speak before he distracted her again. It took all the willpower within her to physically push him back.
"Wait!" she exclaimed, "Before anything happens, I want to know that you'll let me assist you in your project."
Soundwave stopped and retracted his servos. Her frame suddenly felt cold without them. He stared at her, unmoving.
Darkstrike defiantly stared back at him. She wasn't sure how serious she looked considering her aroused flush hadn't completely disappeared. As long as she appeared determined, that was all the mattered.
He suddenly raised a datapad near her helm.
Darkstrike flinched. Her optics widened at it. It was the one she had been working on.
"When did you–"
"Finish annotating. Then femme will receive more instruction," he said.
Darkstrike took it from his servo. Soundwave calmly walked back to his desk area.
She stared at him, baffled at his actions. A part of her felt disappointed that they hadn't continued with their… ahem, fraternization, for lack of a better word. Soundwave didn't seem too affected, much to her annoyance.
Darkstrike took the time to gather all the things in her subspace. A victorious smile overcame her face. Before the femme walked over to the door, she turned to look at him one last time.
She pursed her lips. "If I finish reading tomorrow, when can I come back?"
Soundwave turned his head slightly, "The following cycle."
Giving a final nod, the femme exited his room.
Once out in the hallway, Darkstrike grinned, raising a fist in the air. Despite what she had experienced the past two cycles, the femme had come out with a win.
It felt unreal.
The flier hurried to get out of the hallway.
As she darted towards the exit, a large figure appeared at the entrance. She wasn't able to see him until he was a mechnometer in front of her.
Darkstrike managed to avoid colliding into the mech by cartwheeling to the side. It all happened in a blur and when her vision cleared, the femme managed to get a view of who the large bot was.
Megatronus stood in front of her.
Her optics widened. She took a step back and noticed how he observed her with slight curiosity and wariness. She gulped.
"What are you doing in these hallways?" he questioned.
Darkstrike raised her optic-ridges. "—Nothing!" she blurted too quickly to be true. Before he could further question her, Darkstrike ducked her helm and scurried out of his reach.
That last thing she saw was his smirk.
The femme felt herself sprinting. All she wanted now was her own berth.
She navigated through more hallways until she reached her own door. Darkstrike looked over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her.
She skittishly typed in her passcode. The door hissed open and Darkstrike didn't hesitate to plop onto her berth. She felt a sense of relief.
The femme checked her time. About half her cycle had been spent in Soundwave's room. What a ride.
Interacting with Soundwave was always unpredictable. Darkstrike guessed it depended on what mood he was in. One thing certain, he was no ordinary mech. Discovering that he could read minds gave her one more reason to never let her guard down. The femme had thought she was being over suspicious, but after seeing it firsthand, it was undeniable. Soundwave even sort of confirmed it himself.
To others, it would sound utterly ridiculous; many would call her crazy for even suggesting it.
She looked down at her claws for a moment.
Darkstrike had also never envisioned herself possessing her hidden power. As impossible as it seemed, many Cybertronians possessed strange abilities.
"Impossibilities: For simple-minded."
She shivered.
Despite the doubt, the femme knew full well that she'd return to his room. She didn't want to be scared off so easily. All it meant was that she'd have to be more careful around him.
They still had unfinished business. This was her only chance. Though she had gotten a lot done already, she had yet to prove her full usefulness to him.
The prospect of collaborating with Soundwave was risky but also exciting. Returning was a lot more interesting than carrying on with her usual routine, consisting of training, fighting, and loneliness.
Darkstrike had always suspected she lacked sanity. The femme couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips.
Yesterday she had left her room with the intent of curing her boredom; Darkstrike had certainly not expected to end up in this predicament.
Thinking about it all made her processor ache more than it already did.
Night
Darkstrike sluggishly made her way towards the rec room. She knew there wouldn't be any energon, but the change in company could be refreshing.
As she entered the room, she noticed other mechs were residing in the area. Despite if there were rations or not, this seemed to be the place for fighters to lounge.
Her optics darted over the familiar red bot. She walked over to the counter.
The mech didn't spare her a glance. "There's no energon today."
"I know," the femme replied.
Magnesium slowly averted his optics from his datapad and onto the femme. He paused for a klik. "You look like slag," he stated.
Darkstrike immediately glared at him. "You look worse," she spat.
"I'm the only energon-tender in the Pits. When a big shipment like yesterday comes in, I always have rough nights," he crossed his arms.
"Aren't dealers not supposed to get buzzed off their own supply?" she countered, raising an optic ridge.
"You're not the only one with a tough life, femme," he scoffed.
"Your life must be really bad if you were already passed out by the time I got here."
He glanced away. "You have no idea," the mech grimaced.
"Speaking of filling the void," Darkstrike sat down. She leaned her cheek on her servo. "Is there any new gossip?"
"Besides Lugnut accidentally almost drunkenly killing a few mechs? Not really," he replied.
"Oh, so that's why there was a long line at the infirmary today?" she questioned.
"Have you seen the size of that mech? I'm sure he does it on a regular basis," Magnesium replied, "I also heard talk about you getting overcharged out of your mind, too."
A blush overcame her features.
"Ugh, don't remind me," Darkstrike rubbed her helm. The femme looked up at him, "Who exactly told you this?"
"Don't worry about it," he waved a nonchalant servo. "Seems like you had a rough night."
"You don't know the half of it," she mused.
"Prey tell," Magnesium ushered.
"I'd rather not," Darkstrike glanced away.
"C'mon, what do you have to lose?" he said, "Not like I have very many friends to tell."
Darkstrike hesitated. She was unsure whether to continue. It really wouldn't help her at all. It wasn't as if he would give her any useful advice. For all she knew, he would blabber her business to the other mechs. He certainly seemed like the type.
Her red optics studied him.
Then again, as long as she omitted names, he'd never know the true story. Plus, maybe it would make her feel better telling someone, even if it was Magnesium. She might as well humor the mech.
"Let's just say... I ended up in someone's chambers," she said in a low voice. Magnesium quirked an optic ridge.
"You interfa-"
"No! You idiot, I never said anything inappropriate happened! Is that all mechs think about?— Never mind that," she sighed.
"You ended up in someone's chambers and didn't interface? Seems like a complete waste to me." he remarked, "I thought you had something juicy." Darkstrike proceeded to glare at him.
"So, who's the lucky mech anyway?"
Her hard gaze dissolved. She remained silent.
Magnesium's stare wasn't good at encouraging her to speak. She averted her optics.
"Is the mech in the room right now?" he questioned. Darkstrike faced the other direction to get a view of the mechs in the room. Her optics scanned the area, flickering to all the tables. Accidental optic-contact only caused some mechs to wink or glare at her.
She also made sure to avoid Rocketshield's little group.
Then, the door slid open. A mech entered. Darkstrike immediately recognized his distinguishable visor. The femme hastily turned around before he could take notice of her. She tapped her claws on the counter and looked down. The flier cursed at her bad luck.
"No," she responded.
"Ah, so he is in here," Magnesium hummed. Her optics widened and her claws curled, producing fresh scratch marks on the counter.
"How do you know that's true?" Darkstrike accused.
"Your reaction made it obvious," he replied. The flier sighed in relief. Alright then, so not everybody can read my mind... just Soundwave.
"Well, it doesn't matter who the mech is," she responded, "I'm pretty sure he hates me."
"He took you inside his room and you didn't frag. What's not to hate about that?" Magnesium joked.
Darkstrike deadpanned. "Can't a femme maintain a little bit of modesty?"
"Modesty? Didn't you fully dislocate a mech's arm in your last fight?" he asked.
"That's not a similar comparison," she pointed at him.
"Was it RocketShield? Is that why you're feeling embarrassed?" he asked.
The look of horror that crossed her face made him laugh. Her spark flared up in indignation. "You can insult me with names all you want, but don't disrespect me suggesting something like that, Magnesium."
"Well, you were all buddy-buddy with him yesterday. Can you blame a mech for assuming?" he asked.
Thinking back at the memories, Darkstrike cringed. She eyed him suspiciously, "Again, how do you know that?"
"I wasn't completely passed out," he replied, "It comes and goes. I woke up for five kliks and saw you singing with the mechs."
"I'm never overconsuming high-grade again," she groaned, burying her helm in her arms.
"That's what they all say," Magnesium chuckled.
Darkstrike stood up. "Well, this has been swell, but I'm going to hit the training area."
"This late?"
"I like the feeling of energon pumping through my systems," she said, "I'm hoping it will help with the processor ache."
He picked up his datapad. "Sounds boring but good luck with that."
Darkstrike rolled her optics. Magnesium's definitely not fighting material.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she waved. The femme began walking away.
"Keep me updated with this mech of yours. Let me know if it gets juicy," he raised a suggestive optic ridge.
"Don't count on it," Darkstrike snorted.
She turned around to continue walking forward. Not realizing where she was stepping, she found herself almost bumping into a mech. They both avoided the collision by maneuvering around each other.
The femme could already tell who the armor belonged to. She quickly turned her helm and saw Soundwave standing in front of her. Surprisingly, Megatronus stood behind him.
For a moment, she didn't know what to say.
Darkstrike glanced at both of them. Soundwave remained stoic as usual. Megatronus' optics studied her.
She gulped at the realization that the other fighters were probably staring at them. The femme nervously ducked her helm.
"Apologies," she said before quickly continuing on her path.
Soundwave watched as the femme scurried out the rec room. When he turned back, he noticed there were optics on him. He tilted his helm up in a subtle gesture. The stance was enough to make everyone look away.
He didn't bother listening to their murmurs; he had more important matters to deal with. Specifically, matters that didn't involve that femme.
After she had spent the majority of the cycle in his room, Soundwave was ready to get her out of his processor.
"That femme has a habit of almost running into bots," Megatronus said, "I caught her leaving the high-ranking hallways earlier."
Soundwave couldn't help but narrow his optics behind his visor. He hadn't considered the possibility of the femme being spotted. It was just another reminder that Darkstrike was an inconvenience to him.
He glanced at the larger mech. Megatronus didn't seem to be insinuating anything.
"Femme has much to learn," he replied.
They continued walking. There was a reason he had agreed to meet up at such late joors.
Going over to an empty table, they sat across from each other.
"I'm glad you agreed to meet me," the large mech spoke, "I'm sure you have an idea why I requested your presence."
Soundwave nodded, pointing at the datapad Megatronus displayed. He recognized the title. It held information about Cybertron's legislative history.
"You're familiar with my taste in politics of this era," Megatronus inferred.
Soundwave nodded.
"I'm sure you've noticed that for the past couple of orns, I've been attempting to extrapolate your ideology," His blue optics swirled with intrigue, "So tell me, Soundwave. What is your stance on the topic?" The large Gladiator leaned closer.
Like himself, Megatronus hid a lot from other bots. For that reason, Soundwave didn't trust him.
"Cybertron is corrupted. Stance: Action must be taken," he replied.
"Then we share common beliefs," the mech began, "If the opportunity arose, would you be willing to join the action?"
He shook his helm, "Soundwave: does not seek justice."
"You would remain neutral?" Megatronus questioned, raising an optic ridge.
"Do not misunderstand. I do not seek justice," Soundwave said, "Only revenge."
Megatronus chuckled, optics lighting up. He could see burning rage hidden behind the bright blue orbs.
"It seems we have more common ground than I initially thought."