A/N: More chapters are coming out soon! I struggle to divide my time between school, work, making art, and writing. Again, thank you for all the support! Please feel free to look up my art for Laconic on social media, the link in my profile.
Chapter 9
After studying her wing, Soundwave walked in front of her. He grabbed her chin, tilting it upwards so that she looked up at him. Looking at her, he almost seemed to be chastising her in silence. She saw her reflection on his visor. Darkstrike was certain his optics were locked onto hers.
She decided that the glimpse she had stolen of his crimson irises would be her secret. Darkstrike knew of their existence, and it changed the way she felt when he stared at her.
Soundwave released her and went to tend to her wing.
"You will feel temporary pain," he warned.
Her wings weren't sensitive like a seeker, but they were still the most delicate part of her frame.
Despite the fear, she replied confidently, "I'm ready."
There was a loud buzz. Darkstike didn't feel anything at first.
The pain came suddenly, and it shot through the circuitry nerves of her spine. The affliction made her back straighten, making it feel like she was being torn into two.
It was an excruciating couple of kliks. Darkstrike bit her right servo to muffle her howl.
She gripped the side of the table to stabilize herself, but she would've fallen back if it weren't for Soundwave's servos keeping her steady.
The aching didn't immediately subside, but it became somewhat bearable for her. Darkstrike still was unable to hide her trembling. Her right palm was bleeding with fresh denta marks.
Much to her surprise, she felt Soundwave's servo rub her spinal struts. His fingers were gentle as he traveled down the base of her wings. He pressed on certain pressure points, his heavy servos providing immediate alleviation for her. The femme leaned into him when he began kneading her wings.
She couldn't help the relieved moan that escaped her lips. It was a raspy sound that sounded more obscene than she would've liked.
They both froze at the same time.
A blue flush spread over her entire face. Darkstrike shamefully lowered her helm. Before he could continue, the flier had stood up and excused herself.
Darkstrike cursed at herself for choking up. She couldn't forget the contact that had occurred between them last night.
As much as the femme believed the high-ranker barely tolerated her, the way he had comforted her in that agonizing moment led her to believe differently.
With Soundwave, it only seemed to be either actions or words. His actions made her question exactly how much his words truly meant.
After a cycle of getting fragged over by business mechs, she never would have expected a Gladiator to have given her mercy.
Darkstrike had tangled herself in a mess because she had wanted to impress Soundwave with a T-cog. He had every right to send her off, and in the moment, he almost had.
Though it had ended up being a test, the femme was still unable to forget the few nano-kliks of disappointment she had felt.
Much to her surprise, Soundwave had given her the best news of the cycle. He had suggested— no, stated that he was going to be her mentor. He made it clear that he didn't have faith she could win her battle, at least not yet.
She wasn't sure why he'd chosen to help her when he could've easily left her to deal with the issue on her own. Darkstrike liked to think that maybe she had impressed him with all the hard work she'd put into his minicon.
Either that, or he saw potential in her fighting abilities. After all, since giving her the combat datapad, she had mastered over 85% of the moves. Though Soundwave didn't attend many of her fights, her standing as a middle-ranker reflected her growth as a fighter.
The femme was by no means the strongest Gladiator in the Pit, but she considered herself one of the most resourceful. No matter the situation she was in, she always made use of what was available. In an environment where everyone else had a huge advantage over her, the flier had to be quick-witted.
Darkstrike broke from her thoughts to take a sip of her morning energon.
Her optics scanned the room. Observing the unhinged mechs only confirmed she had to be two steps ahead of them to survive.
Given her nervousness to train with Soundwave, Darkstrike had woken up earlier than usual. Luckily, she had already endured the hassle of waking up that morning; the hard part had already been done.
Today's cycle entailed more mental preparation than usual. As her spark rate increased, she tried not to think about it. The femme sighed.
"I swear, Collision, I can't find my blade anywhere."
Darkstrike slightly raised her optics to look at the owner of the voice. As expected, it was RocketShield, but much to her relief, he didn't seem all too concerned with her.
"You sure you didn't leave it in your room again? Better not start pointing any fingers like last time," his comrade replied.
"Yeah, I'm sure! If I'm pointing fingers it's for something. Look around." RocketShield spat, "I wouldn't be surprised if the one who took my blade was in this very room," RocketShield muttered. Darkstrike attempted to make herself invisible.
Taking a large gulp of her energon, she stood up. For what Darkstrike was about to endure, she was sure she'd need every ounce of fuel.
She discarded the empty cube and exited. The femme walked off to her next destination.
Before heading off to the training grounds, she wanted to stop by the main arena. Darkstrike wanted to see if her fight had been posted on the roster yet. That way she knew exactly what cycle and time her match was taking place.
She breezed through the hallways, knowing exactly where to go. Since her mistake with Swindle's shop, she'd taken the time to map out the Pit's corridors. Hopefully, Darkstrike wouldn't get lost now.
She observed the area to see if anyone was around. Seeing the coast was clear, she walked inside the large arena.
Immediately, Darkstrike could see the sky. It was a pale orange color, the dark smog clouding the atmosphere's true hue. The rows of seats extended high up. She felt small with the Pit's walls towering over her and bright lights aimed in her direction.
Darkstrike unsheathed the sword from her back. She held it up high and closed her optics. She imagined a whole mass of bots cheering for her. Their deafening screams accompanied by the smell of energon fluid filled her with tantalizing adrenaline.
As much as she hated it, she relished in victory— in the validation. It took residing in the lowest caste possible for Darkstrike to feel like someone in life.
It made her feel angry.
"I hope you're doing well."
Unknown voices made her snap her optics open. They were coming from a few mechameters ahead.
The voices continued and the Darkstrike debated whether she would go investigate them or leave. As the noise grew louder, she realized they were approaching her.
She observed that one voice belonged to a femme and the other a mech.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice." The gruff voice was faint, but Darkstrike knew who it belonged to.
Lanyard.
That was the last bot she wanted to see. She didn't want him to spot her. Unfortunately, if she wanted to leave, she'd have to exit in the direction they were coming.
Feeling nervous, Darkstrike crept into the arena stands, jumping high and using her wings to propel herself. She landed quietly and crouched to hide in the legroom area.
She focused her audios and optics on the other bots. The femme settled in front of a small crack, getting a view of the arena grounds.
Her red optics only caught a glimpse of Lanyard, but not the bot he was speaking with.
"So, you'd like me to advertise?" the femme questioned. The voice was smooth and professional. When she came into view, Darkstrike was surprised to see Airachnid.
The flier was engrossed now, her curiosity was once again getting the better of her.
"You know what to do," Lanyard stated, "Spread the word that it's Slaughter City against Kaon. Use that sweet little glossa of yours to talk bots in."
Airachnid laughed, "I appreciate the flattery, Lanyard, but I didn't come all the way here from Blaster City for praise. Let's talk numbers," she said.
"Well, the amount all depends on how much we receive that night."
Airachnid crossed her arms, clearly dissatisfied.
"But, if I make as much money as I'm anticipating, you'll be entitled to 15 percent."
"Hm…" There was a pause. "I'd like 20 percent."
"Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he interjected impatiently, "You're good, but you aren't the only sponsor at our disposal."
"You forget I'm not disposable, though. How many others do you know with contacts outside of Kaon?" she questioned, "More importantly, how many sponsors do you know with their own funds?"
The mech crossed his arms and looked away. Airachnid sashayed towards him, putting a servo on his shoulder.
"Come on, don't be like that, Lanyard. My work speaks for itself; you remember all the clientele I've brought in— as well as the betting system I enacted."
Darkstrike couldn't see his facial expressions from her angle. She could see him shift around and eventually relax into a more casual pose.
"You're a hard femme to say no to."
"I knew you'd see things my way."
Her sickly, sweet tone made Darkstrike roll her optics. If anything, this was confirmation of Airachnid's power with the owners. Her standing with them was dangerous, especially since she knew how to use it to her advantage.
"Tell me more about this fight. I haven't seen you this eager since Megatronus' last battle."
"I'm sure you've heard that my brother is sending me the Terror Twins to face off against one of my gladiators."
"I've heard a rumor or two," Airachnid replied, "Something about a shortage of fighters?"
"There is no shortage of fighters! It's the shortage of customers!" he snapped. Lanyard paused and took a deep breath. "What I mean to say is, this is only a mere ploy for us to gain the clients we've lost."
"M-hm..."
"To make things interesting, I've decided to have the Terror Twins face off against the femme fighter for their opening match."
There was a pause.
Darkstrike's optics widened at the mention of her upcoming fight. Her spark began beating fast. She had a feeling this conversion wasn't meant for her audios. Despite this, the femme had become even more intrigued. She pressed against the walls to try and get a better look.
"Oh? Now you've got my attention."
"She'll be fighting two mechs in one match," Lanyard replied.
"At the same time?"
"At the same time."
Airachnid let out a loose, half-hearted laugh, "Is this your way of trying to get rid of her?"
"This isn't going to be a deathmatch," Lanyard replied defensively.
"I assumed as much, but are you familiar with the skillset of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker? They're very experienced fighters compared to the novice femme."
Darkstrike narrowed her optics, seething at the other bot's words. Having the odds spelled out in front of her was a direct hit to her pride.
"She's survived this far, hasn't she?" he said, "Besides, the point isn't for her to win. Linux has to believe she won't so that he'll hand over his fighters. If she happens to win, it'll be a plus for us. And no matter the outcome, I come out on top."
"You sound smug."
He laughed, "The femme and I made a deal of sorts. She wins, I clear a debt of hers. If she loses, I'm having her take up a part-time job at Kaon's Finest," Lanyard explained.
"The brothel?" Airachnid appeared unimpressed. Darkstrike couldn't help but raise an optic ridge.
"The very one." At first, his stance looked proud. When Airachnid didn't reply or praise him, Darkstrike could see him deflate.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing..."
"Tell me," he pushed.
"To be frank with you, I think that'd be a waste of her use. Now before you speak, allow me to explain." Darkstrike saw Lanyard's defensive stance.
She couldn't believe how weak-minded and subservient he appeared in Airachnid's presence. He seemed extremely affected by her words and opinion.
Another thing, she couldn't believe Airachnid was on her side... sorta.
"You possess a novelty. A sole femme Gladiator in a sea of mechs. Whereas one courtesan brings in a couple of mechs per night, she brings hundreds in one match, not to mention betting and energon purchases that take place," Airachnid spoke, "Plus, I've met the femme. She's extremely prudish and unseemly; I doubt the brothel would benefit from a worker like that."
Darkstrike's optic lid twitched.
"While I agree that you have a point," Darkstrike could see him place a servo under her chin, "A deal is a deal; I must show these Gladiators who runs these Pits."
Darkstrike suddenly looked away from the scene, her audios tuning out of their conversation. Her optic ridges furrowed, her face reflecting mixed emotions.
Even Airachnid's words were unable to persuade him. No matter what, Lanyard was determined to make a show of his power through her. It seemed her fate was sealed if she lost. No one expected her to win.
The only one who had some faith was Soundwave, but even then, he still believed she couldn't succeed with her current skillset.
There was a lot to unpack from this mere conversation. Perhaps it hadn't been the wisest decision to listen in.
"We have a deal," Airachnid said loudly.
Darkstrike turned back to see them shake servos.
"Perfect, I'll see you soon, my spider."
"You know how much I hate that name."
Lanyard was already walking away, "But it fits you so well...!" Soon enough, he was gone, along with any trace of him.
Airachnid stood in place, staring in the direction he exited. After a bit, she seemed to be glaring.
Darkstrike shifted to get a better view, but in the process, she accidentally kicked a loose screw. The noise echoed from her direction. She immediately crouched down to get out of view.
"Who's there?"
She stood silent, hoping Airachnid wouldn't investigate. Her spark pulsed hard against her chassis.
"Show yourself before I drag you out myself."
Quickly scoping out her environment, Darkstrike saw no possible escape routes. Time was quickly running out, along with her options. Soon enough, she was found with one possible choice.
Darkstrike slowly rose to her pedes.
"I knew I sensed an unwanted guest," Airachnid said, "What are you doing here?"
"I was in the arena first." Darkstrike didn't want to tell her she hid because she feared Lanyard, "I heard your voices and became curious—"
"You're willing to risk your spark for measly curiosity? How ignorant." Airachnid scoffed, "Do you know how much trouble you'd get for spying on business affairs?"
"Are you going to tell Lanyard?" Darkstrike asked.
"I should do it, if just to teach you a lesson on eavesdropping."
She said nothing, watching as Airachnid took a few nano kliks to think. Darkstrike's optics drifted everywhere, from her servos, to the exit, to back to the other bot. She felt like she couldn't move, every moment being crucial.
Eventually, Airachnid gave a resigned sigh, "You're not worth the effort."
Darkstrike exhaled in relief.
Airachnid narrowed her optics.
"If I were you, I wouldn't be so carefree," she quipped, "It's because of that arrogance that you put yourself in this mess."
"There is no mess," Darkstrike replied defensively.
"Fighting two very experienced Gladiators and risk becoming a courtesan to clear a debt? That's certainly a predicament."
"I have everything under control."
"I believe the situation is far beyond your reach now," Airachnid quipped.
Darkstrike's optic twitched.
"A word of advice," Airachnid said, "No matter how hopeless you may think you are, don't ask the owners' for help. They will frag you in ways you never expected."
The flier looked away for a moment, a tight frown adorning her face. She felt angry but somehow felt like it wasn't directed entirely at Airachnid. She curled her servos into fists.
"Why did you defend me against Lanyard?" Darkstrike questioned.
"Don't flatter yourself, I was only speaking logically."
"I was under the impression that you wanted to burn me to the ground, especially after our first encounter."
"Don't get the wrong idea," the femme declared. "I don't exactly like you, but I acknowledge that you're worth something to me, especially if I'm going to sponsor you."
"I see," Darkstrike muttered.
"On that note, despite the odds you placed yourself in, it would benefit the both of us for you to win. For now, keep your debts to a minimum, and don't cause any trouble.
"I was already planning on doing that," Darkstrike quickly replied. She didn't like the sponsor's condescending attitude.
"Good, then we're on the same page. I'll be back in three cycles so we can discuss your appearance for the fight," Airachnid said.
She raised an optic ridge, "My appearance?"
"Surely you weren't planning on keeping those drab colors forever, were you?"
Darkstrike looked down at herself. Her armor was a variation of gray and navy. Her colors were muted as she preferred not to bring attention to herself.
"—We'll discuss that later. For now, focus on more important things— like expanding your fighting skills." Airachnid ordered.
Darkstrike nodded. She could now see that behind Airachnid's harsh words and rough exterior was actual advice.
"Alright."
"You're dismissed."
Dakrstrike rolled her optics and began walking away. She gave a final mock-bow at Airachnid before exiting.
As the Gladiator femme left, Airachnid's gaze trailed after her. Apart from skepticism, there was an amused glint in her optics.
The sound of the bell rang—a signal to get a move on. Darkstrike had been the first one in the training area.
She settled on a small obstacle course, watching as mechs came pooling in out of the corner of her optics.
Although she was nervous, Darkstrike was equally as enlivened. Soundwave was an excellent fighter. She'd absorb any information he'd had to offer; the femme would prove herself not only to him but to anyone else who thought she couldn't be victorious. She'd demonstrate that she could exceed her limit.
Darkstrike continued her own training, patiently waiting for him to enter. For a while, she noticed many Gladiators enter and leave and no sign of him. The femme was sure he'd told her to meet up here and not his room.
She remained composed, despite her optics frequently glancing around.
The anxious feeling began building up inside her.
Is he standing me up?
All she could do was focus on training and wait.
She had decided to quit training later than usual. Most mechs had left after getting their workout in, leaving her and only a few left.
Soundwave had never showed up, much to her dismay. After the initial disappointment had set in, what followed had been lots of anger. Darkstrike's temper flared up, along with her drive to push forward. She had spent a good amount of time inflicting violence on training gear.
All she could think about was how infuriated she was that he raised her hopes. He had never been one to lie, it only served to confuse her more. Darkstrike had no idea what could've caused him to back down. The only thing she could think of was their moment together when he removed the tracking device from her wing.
Had she made things awkward between them now?
Too many mixed signals from him...
After letting out the bulk of her vexation, Darkstrike had settled to practicing a more calculated combat style without training gear. It helped her relax and focus her mind after all her mindless barbarity.
After doing a few bridge kick overs, Darkstrike struck the landing, albeit a bit shaky.
She took a deep breath and smirked. It was clear she was improving without anyone's assistance—Maybe she was better off that way.
Deciding that would be her finish move, Darkstrike began packing up. She walked through the training grounds, a new confidence surging through her despite the urge to limp.
I have everything under control.
She exited the doorway, turning left to walk down the hall. Darkstrike thought about what she could do for the rest of the cycle. She even contemplated going into the City to pass some time but decided against it considering she had no credits to leave the Pit.
As she approached the door to her room, a moving figure caught her optic. The moment she got a good view, her bravado faded.
Soundwave stood in front of her door. The light from the ceiling illuminated him in a menacing way. He turned to her.
"Follow," he said.
Many questions surged through her processor, and she struggled to pick the right one to ask first. He began walking away, and Darkstrike knew she had no choice but to follow.
"Where are we going?"
Soundwave took her down a hallway she'd never seen. She tried to walk next to him but the space was too narrow. Darkstrike tried to peek over his shoulder to see where they were headed. If she squinted, she could see a door at the end.
Soundwave glanced back at her, "Training commences today."
That didn't exactly answer her question but it relieved all the worries she'd initially felt. He was keeping his promise after all. She wondered why he had waited by her room.
"Did I make a mistake waiting for you in the training area?'' Darkstrike asked.
"Negative. Late arrival was caused by own delay."
"Oh…" Darkstrike felt a bit overdramatic now, thinking that he had purposefully blown her off.
However, the prospect of training with him renewed a bit of her excitement from earlier. Darkstrike straightened her posture, trying to stop her claws from twitching.
She attempted to push out any feelings of tiredness, but after a full training session, she couldn't completely ignore the soreness in her limbs.
When they passed through the door, they were met with the arena's outskirts. It looked different from Swindle's Shop location. It was a seclusive area, appearing large and scrappy. A large wall towered over them, preventing anyone from coming and going freely.
Soundwave backed away, standing opposite from her.
"Drop weapon."
Darkstrike inferred that they were going to physically spar. She removed the strap from her shoulder, the entire equipment falling loudly. After taking a moment to stretch, she went into her stance.
"Purpose of spar: analyze strengths and weaknesses." Soundwave shifted his stance, facing her like he would any of his opponents.
The femme would be lying if she said we weren't nervous. He had certainly defeated more powerful bots than her.
"Do not hold back," he ordered.
She gulped, "Understood."
With that, the spar began.
Soundwave made the first move. He struck lightning-fast, his servo jabbing her side. The hit landed, causing her to nearly fall.
While the strike wasn't fatal, it caused her pain to move for the first few nano kilks.
Darkstrike had no choice but to go on the defensive. Soundwave didn't give her a chance to think, constantly hitting at all angles. In all her soreness, she was forced to keep her sense of awareness heightened.
Though, judging by the way he kept overcoming her defenses, Dakrstrike felt it was wise to reconsider her strategy. He was very precise, never striking the same place twice.
Soundwave paid attention to where she guarded, and where she didn't. He struck at multiple vulnerable areas already. The flier could only keep her forearms up for some sort of protection.
"Arrhg!" she exclaimed as Soundwave took another hit at her.
She backed up, clutching her side. When she looked at her wound, she noticed she was bleeding.
"I thought this was a spar!" Darkstrike hissed.
"Always prepare for the worst," he advised.
Taking a deep breath, she continued forward. Trying to mimic Soundwave's actions, she went straight for him. It seemed clear to her that defense wouldn't cut it.
Darkstrike punched forward, but instead of blocking it, Soundwave simply avoided it with languid grace. It made the femme feel extremely rudimentary. She stumbled forward, giving Soundwave an opening to hit her wings.
It hurt—more than she expected it to. It was likely her wings were still sensitive from the night before. Darkstrike bit her lip to muffle her shriek.
Despite the pain that she felt, she used the moment to strike at him while he was preoccupied. He probably thought she'd fall. She'd use that to her advantage.
Darkstrike landed on the ground, staying put. When he was close enough, she sprung up, using her whole body to punch him
Though Soundwave blocked it, the force made him back up.
He might've had the upper servo, but Darkstrike wouldn't back down.
They're just a few scratches, I can handle them.
She could feel the energon dripping on her thigh.
Darkstrike wouldn't call it off until she completely collapsed.
Soundwave used his long arms to knock her out of balance. Darkstrike backflipped out of the way, landing in a crouched position. Without missing a beat, she ran forward and rammed into him with her shoulder plate. The mech managed to throw her back quickly.
Soundwave surprised her when he ducked and slid his leg under her, tripping her in the process.
Darkstrike wasted no time in standing again. She attempted to throw a punch at him.
Soundwave caught it, and twisted her arm behind her back, in front of her wings. She was forced to the ground as he kept her pinned from behind. He kneeled over her.
The flier had to think quickly about how to escape. Darkstrike frantically searched through her processor, particularly the datapad he had given her. One of those moves had demonstrated a way to get out of this hold.
His weight was completely on her, preventing her from moving and only allowing her to struggle. It also made her feel submissive. Darkstrike slightly blushed.
With a bit of effort and pain, she could escape him. The flier dislocated her joint, managing to loosen herself from his grip. The femme used her other arm to elbow him hard in the side.
The action caused Soundwave to back up enough for her to roll over and kick him with both pedes.
The force pushed him back, but not far. After standing up, he charged at her immediately.
Darkstrike frowned as she countered him. She was hardly getting a scratch on him. He could probably last a lot longer, while she was already reaching her limit.
The madness of the spar was beginning to make her claws twitch. They grew hotter the more intense her emotions became.
She was becoming weary with every hit she took. Any move she tried to perform from the datapad was useless; Soundwave seemed to anticipate her maneuvers. Though, she should have known; he had given her the text pad, after all.
Darkstrike was losing strategy and becoming sloppy. As she threw another punch, Soundwave grabbed her servo. He seemed to stare directly at the appendage, momentarily stopping the spar.
She struggled to take it out of his grasp and when it didn't work, the femme seethed. She growled, her internal heat fluctuating once more.
Darkstrike wanted nothing more than to land a good hit on him.
She looked at her other servo, flexing it out. Darkstrike considered striking him at least once to slow him down.
Her free servo flexed out, her claws getting in position. They lit up, the heat in them becoming more unbearable by the nano-klik. Though Darkstrike only wanted to scratch him, the intensity of the charge was getting hard to control.
Using her last bit of concentration and strength, she struck at him.
Soundwave caught her wrist only centimeters before. Darkstrike's optics widened and she gasped.
Soundwave studied both of her servos as they closed and flexed. They glowed brighter as her anger grew.
She made a move to kick him while distracted, but he immediately noticed. Soundwave suddenly gripped her servos hard, pressing on the most sensitive pressure points.
Darkstrike yelled out in surprise at the pain that overtook her. Fire felt like it was burning her from the inside. A powerful shock traveled down her body, making her knees feel weak.
The power from her claws began faltering, causing the heat to burn her from the inside. Her sensors registered internal pain from her nerves. Darkstrike closed her optics, unable to withstand the toll of the charge.
Her systems reacted by shutting down. Soundwave finally let go of her servo, watching as she collapsed.
Soundwave watched her optics glow rich red before they closed. The femme fell unconscious.
He'd learned all he needed to, as well as given the femme a taste of merciless fighting.
He could leave her with the medic, but the old bot probably wouldn't know what to do with her given her biggest injury being internal rather than physical. A lot of her wounds appeared superficial. Soundwave also didn't want to deal with any implications directed at him about why he had the femme unconscious.
He debated on carrying her or simply dragging her. Though, looking at her bleeding, he knew it wasn't wise to leave a trail behind.
Soundwave knelt and gathered her sword gear in his subspace. He proceeded to grab her waist, throwing her over his shoulder as he stood up. Darkstrike groaned in pain.
He was reminded of the time she had gotten overcharged and passed out. It seemed like long ago, but the events from that night followed him to this very cycle.
Wasting no time, Soundwave began walking off. He took a different route to get to his chambers quicker. He was careful to avoid any wandering mechs. Fortunately, there weren't many fighters who liked to reside outside the main building.
Once inside, he began moving towards the dormitory hallway. It was only a klik away, the likelihood of encountering mechs was low.
Soundwave entered the corridor, a determination in his pedesteps.
The Gladiator was halfway down the hall before the doors from another mech's room hissed open.
Soundwave made the decision to trudge forward, too close to his room to retreat. He'd remain indifferent to the reaction of the mech. If he moved fast enough, there was a possibility they wouldn't recognize the femme.
As the mech exited his chambers, Soundwave immediately took notice of who it was.
Megatronus' blue optics shone in the dim hallway. They directed at him.
"Soundwave!" he called. It seemed he would be forced to acknowledge him.
By the time they were in full view of each other, Megatronus began examining the femme on his shoulder.
Remaining indifferent, Soundwave gave a nod in greeting.
Megatronus stood quiet for a moment, optics shamelessly staring at Darkstrike. Soundwave noticed his gaze linger on her aft and thighs.
"It seems you find yourself in quite an unconventional circumstance," Megatronus remarked, arching an optic ridge. There was an obvious smirk on his lips.
Soundwave didn't approve.
He knew he didn't owe the silver mech any explanations. If he walked away, Megatronus wouldn't question him.
Yet, as Soundwave studied his gaze, he could tell that the mech thought he had discovered something. Hidden intentions swirled in his irises, he could only imagine what lay behind his processor. Even if she was faced away, Darkstrike was still a distinguishable femme. Her dark armor, light protoform, and protruding wings gave it away.
Soundwave shifted so that she laid in his arms rather than his shoulder. Her face was finally revealed along with the wounds covering her body. Energon was smeared over a portion of her armor.
"The femme is injured?" Megatronus questioned. He appeared surprised at her unconscious state. Though just as Soundwave suspected, it seemed he had already realized it was Darkstrike.
"Femme received injuries during spar," he said.
Megatronus studied her closely, "So this is your work."
As if to respond, Darkstrike groaned in pain again.
"Given her condition, it seems she was an unworthy sparring partner."
"Femme is being mentored. It was anticipated for her to fail," he said.
Megatronus gave him a look.
"Interesting that you say that," he said, "I've taken the role of mentor, myself. I've found mercilessness is the most vital lesson you can teach— but it seems you have no problem instilling that value," he chuckled.
Soundwave didn't reply.
"Darkstrike has a lot more suffering to endure, as is the way of a true Gladiator," The silver mech grinned, "I offer any assistance in training the femme. I'd like to see for myself what she can handle."
Soundwave gave a single nod, before continuing walking to his door.
"We'll speak on another cycle, Soundwave. I apologize for interrupting."
He glanced at the other mech before fully entering his room. Soundwave didn't appreciate the coyness in the mech's tone, but he opted to ignore it for now.
He dropped the femme on his berth, uncaring of how roughly he handled her.
Again, he had come to deal with the consequences of his own decisions. Soundwave hadn't anticipated Darkstrike to offline, his goal only being to test her. To avoid another situation like this, he now knew not to push her past her limits next time.
Megatronus had been entirely unexpected. Soundwave had revealed a lot to him, but there wasn't much he could do now. Whether the silver mech wanted to use this against him or not would ultimately determine if Soundwave finally viewed him as an enemy or ally. Only time would tell.
He averted his mind elsewhere. Soundwave raised his berth so he could take a closer look at the femme's injuries.
It had been an interesting spar. He'd been able to learn many things about her fighting style. He recognized a lot of the moves from the datapad he'd given her. The femme kept up with him to a degree.
As far as speed went, Darkstrike had only managed to get across a few hits. She knew where to strike, but never at the right time. As much as she attempted to adapt to his fighting style, Soundwave knew she was used to fighting slower, brute opponents.
He noticed she often took advantage when her opponents were distracted. She used this method in her battles; Darkstrike had most likely expected Soundwave to let his guard down as easily. The femme would learn it wasn't effective on all of her opponents.
He looked down at her unconscious form.
Soundwave took a seat and began tending to her injuries. There were dents in her armor, a dislocated joint, and minor bleeding. Her wounds were shallow, easily healed within a couple of cycles.
That wasn't the main reason for her collapse, though. When trying to release her special attack, he had contained it within her servos. Soundwave suspected she had unknowingly released it on herself.
Her ability was strong, the heat had left marks on his servos. Yet, Darkstrike hadn't seemed to harness it to its full potential. Soundwave inferred she'd only recently discovered it through enduring many life or death situations.
Disregarding the thought, he decided to begin with her dislocated shoulder.
He grabbed her arm, fingers gripping the limb tight. Without hesitation, he snapped her arm into place. As her joint cracked, the femme's optics opened. She sat up immediately, clutching her arm.
"What the frag!" Darkstrike exclaimed. She gasped hard, covering her optics from the room's lights. "Where—where am I?"
"Soundwave's room."
She glanced around the room, "I… I passed out?"
He nodded.
"How? I don't remember," she blinked several times.
"Claws overloaded on energy," Soundwave stated.
Darkstrike held her servos out. They were shaking, still faintly glowing blue. When she tried to fist her claws, she cried out in pain.
"Slag!"
Soundwave grabbed both of her servos, examining them closely. Her claws were stiff, appearing swollen.
"Femme requires drainage. I will need to crack joints."
"Just do it! Don't waste a kli— Ahh!" she yelled out.
He gripped her appendages, pulling them forward to crack her joints in one go. Soundwave found it was best to do it when she least expected.
"Primus-Frag!" The femme groaned loudly.
Darkstrike shut her optics and fell back onto the berth. The femme draped an arm over her face to shield her pained expression. She continued trembling for a few nano kliks.
He waited for her to compose herself.
Though she breathed heavily, her frame appeared to stabilize.
When she removed her arm, he immediately noticed her face tinted with a blue blush. Coolant began to form on her fore-helm.
"I suddenly feel…" she gasped, "like I'm burning up."
Her entire face began flushing. Perspiration secreted from different parts of her body. Her servos glowed brighter than usual.
He could feel heat emanating from her.
"Describe symptoms," he said.
"Not as much pain, but I feel feverish." More coolant formed on her face. The femme began mumbling something he couldn't hear.
The femme sat up, swinging her legs off the berth. As soon as she shifted, she grunted in pain.
"Do not move," he ordered, "Injuries are recent."
"I need to go to the showers to cool off."
"Cease," Soundwave commanded, "Appearance will draw attention."
Darkstrike looked down at herself. She sighed in frustration.
She must've noticed her state of disarray because she stayed put on the edge of the berth.
Soundwave subspaced a small energon cube and handed it to her.
"Replenish fluids."
Without another word of protest, Darkstrike grabbed it.
Soundwave turned to grab some materials from his workspace. He'd give her a few more kliks to calm.
While gathering his things, he could hear shuffling behind him. Soundwave ignored it at first, but the clunking soon became louder.
Turning back to her, he saw the source of the noise. Darkstrike was openly removing her armor— he assumed to alleviate the heat she felt.
Her forearms were bare. She unclasped the armor on her torso. More of her protoform was revealed, showing the other places where she flushed.
Soundwave looked away.
She noticed his action and looked up at him.
"I apologize, I should've asked if it was alright…"
"Proceed."
Soundwave remained at his workspace for a bit longer, facing away from the femme.
Eventually, he gathered his tools and walked over to her. He sat on the chair next to the berth.
"Wounds must be sealed," he said.
"O-oh, of course." Darkstrike hesitantly moved. She shifted to sit sideways to show him her deepest wound on her left torso.
Soundwave quickly cleaned up the bleeding.
He used a servo to hold her abdomen and the other to hold the laser.
Darkstrike stiffened when his servo made contact with her. His palm was large, encompassing a good portion of her midriff.
He could feel her tense up the longer he proceeded on her wound.
His sharp fingers drifted to the next injury, accidentally grazing over her soft protoform. Darkstrike twitched in response, releasing a small gasp.
He continued his work, but he could feel the femme squirm around more. He stopped a few times for her to calm down, but it soon became difficult for him to progress.
At first, Soundwave thought her reaction was due to pain or fear of his edged servos, but when he turned to her, he could tell it was something else.
Darkstrike avoided his gaze, posture appearing shy. More warmth radiated from her body causing her blush to deepen. The heat was beginning to affect his servo.
Her optics flickered at him.
"I can tend to my wounds to make things easier…" she suggested.
It appeared the heat in her frame was reacting to her emotions, just like her claws from earlier.
"No. Cease movement."
Soundwave tightened his grip, moving her so he could mend the final wound on her back.
Darkstrike was forced to sit up straight.
As he worked, she twitched constantly but otherwise remained quiet.
Looking at her spine, Soundwave attempted to ignore memories of the cycle before. He could still see the crack in her wing where he removed the tracking device.
Soundwave put down his tool, looking over her frame for any more deep injuries. He kept his servo on her side.
"Defense requires improvement," he stated.
"You eliminated my strongest line of defense," she said, raising her servos.
"It is unwise to rely on unstable power."
"…That's true," Darkstrike looked away.
Soundwave openly stared at her frame, unintentionally analyzing the details of her body. There were signs of previous injuries on her outer armor, but it seemed to fade closer to her protoform. It meant that she had managed to avoid critical hits since becoming a fighter. Her defense skills were low but workable.
Soundwave waited to see if she backed away.
When she didn't, he felt even less inclined to remove his servo.
He had never thought twice about physical contact besides for the purpose of violence or lust. Soundwave was starting to realize that touch wasn't limited to only those options.
With Darkstrike, it seemed to lean more towards lust, but they'd never progressed that far. They were somewhere in between. Unfazed by touch, but somehow teetering back to each other.
He was far more interested than he should've been.
He slid his servo up a bit, the coolant on her frame allowing him to slide up with ease. Darkstrike hitched, optics staring wide. Soundwave openly stared back.
She gulped.
Though she appeared nervous, he saw the way her optics betrayed her. She stared at him with a mixture of excitement and fascination. Darkstrike moved her arms, showing more of her prototform.
The femme was completely engulfed in the sensations. If it weren't for the logic gnawing at his processor, he feared he would've been too.
His servo was beginning to burn.
It was best if he ended this now.
He took the opportunity to finish closing a newly revealed gash.
Darkstrike jumped up as he mended the open gash.
She clutched her side, cursing under her breath. When she looked back at him, he was already storing away his equipment.
"Soundwave…"
He didn't like the way she said his name. The mech wanted to ignore the want surging through him.
"Recharge," he ordered.
"But— maybe we could—" she stopped when he turned to look at her. Her optics darted away.
"Heat is reflective of femme's emotions. Recharge to cool systems."
Darkstrike didn't protest, laying back down to the berth.
The femme would be fine for now; her systems would reboot, hopefully already building up immunity for its attack.
It wasn't wise for him to waste any more time on her. Soundwave had never been one for interactions, he wasn't sure why Darkstrike was the exception. He wondered when she'd finally outlive her usefulness. Perhaps that cycle he would finally stop finding interest in her.
Without another word, he turned to his workspace. Turning on the datapad, Soundwave decided that he'd work on his project for the night.