A/N: Surprise! I actually have had Ch. 9, 10, & 11 finished, but I last minute decided not to release them at the same time. After a few more adjustments, 11 will be out soon!

Chapter 10

Two Cycles Later

When arriving at the Gladiator Pits, Orion made sure to stay put on the outskirts. Megatronus had instructed him to wait there, saying he'd come after he finished talking with an associate.

Orion had no issue waiting, but the longer Megatronus took, the more restless he grew. He felt intimidated by his surroundings, its residents radiating with adrenaline and power. A few had already passed by him. Orion avoided optic contact, attempting to appear aloof. Some of them didn't pay him mind while others openly stared. He could somehow feel their rage towards him, regardless of whether they expressed it aloud or not.

Orion sympathized with the Gladiators, but he had a suspicion they didn't return the feeling. It was best to keep to himself, regardless of his thoughts. They had weapons, and he didn't; they had a much shorter temper, and he only had words at his disposal.

Bots from his caste wouldn't have considered coming to Kaon as a prank, much less defenseless and alone. Anyone would think him foolish for his stunt—Jazz certainly did. Alpha Trion would surely disapprove if he found out where he was.

He'd mainly talked to Megatronus through video, this only being his third time in Kaon. The city always lived up to its reputation, its sky filled with smog and crime transpiring on every street. Gladiator matches were viral in Kaon; he had yet to see one in real life.

Though, based on what he saw online, the fights were intense and violent; Megatronus alone had left plenty of energon in his wake.

These thoughts weren't helping him overcome his current concern. The mech began growing more nervous, checking the time once more. He was coming to regret his punctuality. Orion had to face the reality that Gladiators didn't follow etiquette.

The mech's blue optics roamed around the area, taking note of the conditions.

Even as the largest arena in Kaon, the building didn't seem well maintained. From what Megatronus told him, about 200 mechs resided in the area. Each fighter was obligated to fight at least once per orbital cycle, which meant there were a total of 11 fights occurring every cycle, perhaps more accounting for any repeats.

The mech stopped to look around. Surely, with the amount of currency the owners made, they could afford something more stable. He supposed he was coming from a privileged mindset, given that he worked in an extensive library.

That was why he came to Kaon, though, to gain new experiences and speak to someone with a different perspective.

Orion shifted, carefully turning his helm to observe more of his surroundings.

He straightened when his audios picked up the sound of pedesteps. Orion went back to his previous stance, putting his guard up again.

The steps seemed to slow down as they neared him. His first thought was that his friend had finally joined him, but judging by the sound of the pedesteps, he could tell it wasn't him.

His question finally received an answer when a bot came into view. The first thing he noticed was the femme's dark armor.

Red optics glanced at him before looking away. She turned around, taking a few moments to scan the area. The femme advanced, not paying him any mind. She continued roaming. It appeared like she was looking for someone.

He wanted to ask, but her posture gave him the idea that she was wary of him. She eventually stopped at a distance and stood still. Orion could see her out of the corner of his optic.

He didn't want to make her nervous, but he also wanted to communicate his affability. The mech fully turned in her direction, staring until he was sure her attention was on him. When she noticed him, their optics met. He mustered up a smile. This action caught the femme off guard, and she suddenly looked away, either in surprise or indifference— he couldn't tell.

The mech decided that perhaps conversating would ease her nerves.

"Hello," he greeted. His voice immediately caught her attention. Her red optics were wide, but they narrowed when they turned to him.

"Hi…"

"Are you waiting for someone?" he questioned. The femme eyed him as if skeptical of his intentions. He made sure that his posture appeared non-threatening.

His optics briefly looked over her. The femme looked young, but he could see experience written all over her appearance, from the scars to her tired optics.

"Yes, I am..." she replied slowly.

"I am, too, though he seems to be running late." He made small talk to get the conversation going.

"I'm in the same situation," she nodded. The femme's gaze wandered to him, now looking less guarded. Orion tried not to falter under her stare.

"Who are you waiting for?"

"I am here for a friend of mine, a Gladiator." Orion decided not to reveal his name.

"Oh," she appeared surprised.

"May I ask who you are waiting for?"

The femme looked away for a nano klik, "A Gladiator as well, my mentor."

"Coincidentally, the one I wait for is also my mentor," Orion chimed, "It appears we have some things in common."

"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed. Her wary gaze had morphed into a curious one.

"You're from another city, right?" she inferred.

"You are correct. My name is Orion Pax; I am from Iacon," he greeted, extending an arm. She looked down at it for a moment. Her optics drifted from his faceplates to his servo.

"Darkstrike," she replied, grasping it. Orion smiled at her. She returned it, but his expression faltered when he saw the sharpness of her canines. She noticed this and laughed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to unnerve you; I just had my incisors sharpened."

"No need to apologize," He cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

"What are you learning from your mentor? If you don't mind me asking," Darkstrike said.

"Not at all. He is teaching me political science and civics of Cybertron. What about yourself?"

"Mainly defense and combat, both physical and using a weapon. I have a big match coming up," Darkstrike replied.

"I've heard a lot about arena battles," Orion said.

"You've never been to one?" She raised an optic ridge.

"I've only seen the fights on video; I don't… particularly find them enjoyable."

"I recommend going to one if you truly want to get to know Kaon's politics. If not for pleasure, go for educational reasons; It's an optic-opening experience," Darkstrike persuaded.

"It seems I cannot say no," Orion jested, "When is your match taking place?"

"M-mine?" Darkstrike reacted with surprise. She raised an optic ridge at him, "So you want to learn about Kaon's Pits through my fight then?"

"No! That is not what I-"

Darkstrike laughed.

"I know, I know," she brushed it off, "But, if you really want to see a great fight with minimal suffering, I'd recommend one of Soundwave's matches. He's quick and precise and leaves no room for error. Megatronus is good too, but I hear he always leaves a mess in the arena."

"I see."

Darkstrike opened her mouth to speak but stopped halfway. Something behind him caught her gaze. Before he could turn, she regarded him again.

"It was nice to meet you, Orion, but it looks like my waiting is over," Darkstrike said.

"You are leaving?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I won't keep you waiting. I wish you luck. I hope to encounter again, Darkstrike." He smiled at her. She nodded as a final goodbye before rushing ahead.

Intrigued, Orion didn't stop himself from trailing after the femme's steps. A few mechameters away, she met with a bot he didn't recognize. The tall mech was hidden by the shadows, only illuminated by violet biolights. When the mech's visor turned in Orion's direction, he quickly shifted back to his spot.

The company had been refreshing while it lasted.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

The sudden voice was enough to make him jump in alert. His blue optics turned to his left, confirming that it was his friend who'd caused him to jolt. The large mech stood above him, his face reflecting his amusement.

"Megatronus," he said.

"Orion" The silver bot held out a servo in front of him. Orion returned the gesture, giving a firm shake.

"It's nice to see you again."

"Likewise," he replied, "It seems you've made an acquaintance."

"Yes. I wasn't aware you were watching." Orion raised an optic ridge jokingly at him.

"I didn't want to intrude. If I'd approached, it would've only scared her off," Megatronus said.

"You certainly have a reputation here," he remarked.

"You have no idea."

"Well, I won't waste your time any; further, I have what you requested of me," Orion changed the subject.

"Excellent," he took the datapads from him, "I presume you've read the first draft of my speech?"

"Yes, that is what I wanted to talk to you about…."

Megatronus regarded him with a raised optic ridge, "Oh?"

Orion shifted his pedes. "How do I put this… I fear that the language you use comes off a bit strong," he stopped to look at him for a reaction. There was none. "I have a few suggestions, but I do not want to overstep."

The silver mech continued reading the datapad.

"Any of your input will serve me well, whether I use it or not. But before we proceed," Megatronus looked at him, "I have my own suggestion for you."

"What is it?" Orion questioned.

"I think the femme Darkstrike has a point," Megatronus began, "If you truly want to know how far the corruption stems in Kaon, you must attend a Gladiator match. I will take you to Darkstrike's fight so you can see for yourself."

"I'm-I'm not sure I could watch," Orion hesitated, "She recommended other matches I could attend."

"Have you already grown a soft spot for her, or is it because you think she will fail?" He challenged.

"I—no, of course not!

"Unless you are holding her to a different standard because she does not look like us?" It appeared to be friendly banter, but Orion couldn't help but feel like Megatronus was challenging his ideals.

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, "I admit that I hold bias because I just met her, but I empathize with all Cybertronians."

"Have faith in Darkstrike. I've seen some of her fights. The femme's an impressive thing. She will do fine— she is out training as we speak."

Orion looked away, thinking hard about his choice.

"I'll even invite the entrance price. Humor me just this once. What do you say, Orion?"

"I… suppose," he begrudgingly agreed.

"Excellent," he patted his back roughly, the force causing him to stumble forward.

Darkstrike glanced back at Orion before shrugging him off.

His blue optics and a friendly smile made him distinguishable. He was certainly different from most bots in Altihex. Both of them surprisingly had a few things in common: being from a higher caste and affiliating with a Gladiator mentor.

Orion was a polite mech, and it threw her off when talking to him. Aside from Soundwave, Darkstrike wasn't used to mechs without ulterior motives.

She didn't entirely trust him, but it had been a pleasant conversation. Though, Darkstrike shouldn't have thought about it too hard, given that they likely wouldn't reencounter each other.

Soundwave hadn't commented, not that she expected him to. It was a given that he wouldn't care about who she acquainted herself with. Though she was sure that the telepath knew more than he let on, she wouldn't say anything either.

The silence between her and the mech lasted until they arrived at the training area.

It had been two cycles since their first spar. In that time, she had almost completely healed. Darkstrike was prepared for another challenging session, determined not to pass out like last time.

Soundwave walked past her. In a moment of distraction, she didn't notice his arm swipe at her back. It was so sudden, Darkstrike wasn't able to register the movement.

She stumbled forward, immediately trying to regain balance. The femme turned, shifting into a fighting stance.

"Reflexes require improvement," he stated.

"I wasn't expecting you to strike before starting," she interjected.

"Striking when distracted: a tactic Darkstrike practices in all battles. Be prepared if opponent copies action." Soundwave lowered his helm near hers, "Do not grow comfortable."

"I won't," she assured defensively.

Darkstrike suddenly felt something sharp poke her abdomen. She looked down and saw a sword pressed on her. It wasn't enough to cause bleeding, but any sudden movements could cause a puncture. He had aimed it at her when she wasn't looking.

"Always remain vigilant," Soundwave said. He retracted the blade, setting it on the ground.

Darkstrike felt immediately humbled. She ducked her helm, "You're right. I will do better."

"Femme's task is to avoid any impact."

He moved for a quick punch, but Darkstrike narrowly avoided it. Her optics widened in surprise.

"Does that mean—" A well-calibrated attack on her side cut her off. She hissed in pain.

"Dodge or block, do not retaliate or use claws."

He's not making this easy.

"Understood," she said.

Soundwave stepped forward.

She hoped today's spar wouldn't result in her lying on a berth withering in pain like last time. Darkstrike would have to try her best.

First, he aimed attacks at her weakest area: her sides. This was a section of her frame where her protoform was most exposed. Darkstrike should've anticipated this from him. In the arena, her opponent would naturally seek her vulnerable areas.

Though it was clear he was holding back, every hit he landed still hurt. He gave no breathing room, using any advantage to force her to back up. Despite how hard she tried being, his skill was too overwhelming.

As the fight progressed, it didn't get any easier for her.

Soundwave took a few steps forward.

Darkstrike glanced behind her, seeing how close she was to backing into the wall.

He swung his arm in her direction. She dodged it nano kliks before it hit her. Darkstrike sighed in relief, but in that very moment of being distracted, Soundwave swopped a leg under her. She fell to the ground.

The mech halted, giving her enough time to compose herself. Darkstrike sighed in frustration before standing.

When she was in stance, they started again. Unfortunately, though, the femme wasn't doing any better the second time around.

Soundwave had a different way of fighting than any mech she'd battled with in the past. She couldn't predict his moves nor keep up with his speed. He was a moving storm, striking with lightning precision.

As he pushed her back again, Darkstrike couldn't help the pressure that was building up inside her. The femme grew anxious the more he attacked.

Her frustration rose, causing her servos to grow warm. Out of instinct from the adrenaline, Darkstrike attempted to use her claws. She slashed at his chassis, but he caught her wrist.

"Follow rules." Soundwave threatened, "Control emotions. Win with strategy, not brute strength."

She took a deep breath, "I apologize. You're right."

"Two opponents require undivided attention."

"I'm trying to focus on everything, from your servos to pedes, but I can never anticipate where you'll hit," she said.

"Do not overthink. Practice and build muscle memory," Soundwave explained, "Focus on one task."

Darkstrike nodded, "One task at a time."

They repositioned themselves. Both bots met each other halfway. She ducked his punch, moving under his arm to get behind him. Soundwave turned, trying to trip her again. Darkstrike narrowly avoided his pede.

As long as she moved in ways he couldn't anticipate, he'd have a tougher time getting to her.

Soundwave is fast, but if I manage to—

Darkstrike abruptly registered a pain emanating from her backstruts. She yelled out in pain and turned around. His tendril unhooked from her body.

"Concentrate. Purge all trivial thoughts," he said.

Each hit he took was another lesson for her to stay alert. Darkstrike knew she had the tendency to get trapped in her mind. She recognized that he wanted her to rely on instinct and muscle memory, an arduous task considering it went against her nature.

I can analyze him after our spar. Focus.

"Understood," she stated.

She turned up her audio receptors, eliminating all secondary thoughts from her mind. Darkstrike knew what to do now; all that was left was hard work and practice.

He struck her left, but it collided with her forearm's defense. His other servo swung her way, but the moment she detected movement, she stepped away. Her optics kept track of his visor, watching where he turned his helm.

He attempted to trip her, but she jumped back. Once landing, one of his tendrils aimed right for her. It was all happening so quickly that if Darkstrike hadn't been in her right mind, she would've been overwhelmed by it.

Without missing a beat, she crouched under before pouncing mechameters over Soundwave, landing across from him.

It took a moment for the femme to realize that she was unscathed.

Her optics widened, yet she fought the urge to smile in triumph. They weren't finished. Darkstrike soon sensed more movement, which only meant Soundwave had more in store.

After a few cycles of practice, she became more in tune with her reflexes. After the first session, Darkstrike continued to excel at defense.

It was no surprise that Soundwave was quick to move on to the next training phase. She was willing to endure what he thought she was capable of. The flier hadn't dropped down yet, but she had already danced on the fine line of her limits.

Darkstrike's instructions for the cycle were to practice offense. She'd be the one throwing the punches, and he'd be the one dodging them. In theory, it seemed like an easy exercise considering there would be no pain. Be as it may, Darkstrike discovered that Soundwave's expertise extended to every aspect of fighting.

He had a deeper understanding of strategy than she ever could.

It was becoming increasingly frustrating hitting a moving target. Darkstrike's vexation grew to a point where she began throwing erratic punches.

"Patience."

"You're too fast!"

"Focus on present. Do not attempt to predict movement."

"Okay," she replied.

So, it began again.

Her hits were either dodged or blocked, and the ones that did reach him were weak. Darkstrike didn't understand why she wasn't delivering blows as she should. His lesson on defense extended onto her training today, but it was hard applying what she'd learned; Soundwave dodged much faster than he delivered blows.

Her exasperation was becoming evident to him.

He moved fast, quickly catching the flimsy punches she threw at him.

"Movements are limited. Use different methods of attack besides servos," Soundwave said, pointing at her legs.

For the first time that cycle, she understood. Darkstrike realized she could use her whole body to attack, not merely her fists.

Taking a few steps back, Darkstrike charged at him. She threw a punch, anticipating it to be blocked. When Soundwave brought a forearm up, Darkstrike changed tactics and curled her leg up, kicking his torso.

Soundwave was pushed back from the force.

Just as last time, Darkstrike refrained from celebrating, knowing he wouldn't cease just yet.

They moved on faster than last time. This cycle entailed fighting with weapons.

Soundwave started off by teaching her to hold a sword more efficiently. She then practiced swinging it in different directions. After Darkstrike was comfortable, he told her to do the same, except with two blades. They were a bit heavy as she got used to them.

He explained that if the opportunity arose when she could get ahold of another weapon, it was best to have experience with it ahead of time.

The last move he tried to teach her was catching the sword's blade with her bare servos. Soundwave said he had learned from watching Megatronus.

After a couple of failures, Darkstrike became more hesitant. When it was clear she wasn't advancing, he decided to carry on.

Once warm-up was complete, they moved on to the actual sparring. Soundwave would be opposing her with two swords, and she'd have one.

Just like in battle.

Darkstrike appreciated how thorough his training was. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she considered him an admirable mentor. It was why she hardly complained and always took his criticism; she truly respected Soundwave.

When their spar began, he demonstrated more of his skill. His swings were heavy, the weapon's impact constantly pushing her back. Luckily, he wasn't aiming to hit her directly, instead directing all blows to her sword. His overwhelming offense only allowed her to move in intervals at a time.

Detecting movement, the femme flipped away, only mere inches from his blade. Her landing was shaky, giving Soundwave an opening.

Darkstrike tiled her sword to block the attack, and soon they were at a standoff, both pushing against each other. He used both of his weapons to force her down. Her arms began to shake as she buckled from his strength. The femme's pedes dug into the ground, and she pushed forward. When Soundwave increased his vigor, Darkstrike was suddenly shoved to her aft.

She was learning that there were no shortcuts to being a better swordsmech, only experience.

She looked up as he pointed the sword at her.

"Again," Soundwave said.

Soundwave only doubled his efforts to knock her down when they started again.

Given his size and strength, she was severely outclassed; Soundwave had her at all angles. She wasn't quick to fall, but she was using all her effort to keep it that way.

Darkstrike couldn't help but frown when he aimed at her wings.

"Hey!" She countered her sword with his.

"Opponents will strike at any perceived weakness. Do the same," he stated.

Darkstrike leaped away, getting some distance between them. He gave her a moment to process his suggestion. She gave him a full once over, her optics stopping at weak points in his frame. Darkstrike couldn't help but glance away when she got past his waist.

Neck, spark, waist, ankles.

Darkstrike launched at him, place in mind to strike. He remained where he was, raising both weapons in preparation. She ran, ignoring her sore legs and weary arms. She'd have to use her whole upper body if she wanted to execute the move correctly.

When she was close enough, she changed the trajectory of her swing, instead aiming at the inner part of his elbow. Unexpectedly, the hit caused Soundwave to drop his sword.

Darkstrike was getting close to her limit. Her cooling fans were on high, and she was about ready to finish it. She was too close to losing.

Mustering up any residue strength, Darkstrike snatched his sword from the ground, now two in her grip.

Soundwave seemed to recover quickly, jumping back and getting in stance.

Darkstrike prepared her for her next move when they bolted towards each other. She threw a sword at him to create a distraction. He deflected it but was unable to see Darkstrike jump up. With her momentum, she was able to knock the other sword from his servo.

At last! Soundwave was defenseless. The fight was over.

Darkstrike tumbled to the ground, landing on her front side. The femme hadn't passed out, but she dropped down from exhaustion. The warm surface comforted her aching joints. She was so preoccupied with resting that her celebration was delayed yet again.

Today was their final spar—the cycle her training had let up to.

Darkstrike had been nervous before the match started. They both would both be fighting with one sword. Soundwave had kept the rule of banning her claws in their spar. Like the other cycles, she'd have to rely on her strategy.

Despite any anxiousness she felt, she was determined to impress Soundwave. This was the final test to see if she was truly ready to face off against the Terror Twins. He'd mentored her for joors, giving critique, correcting her stance, and pushing her to her limits.

Darkstrike had discovered she was a lot more capable than she'd imagined.

Though she still was ways away from being able to beat Soundwave in an actual fight, it gave her hope that one cycle she'd be able to. He had a skill most mechs envied; he was everything she strived to be.

Within the first few kilks of their spar, Darkstrike realized how seriously he was taking this final battle. They'd fought with weapons before, but he wasn't holding back as much as last time. Darkstrike admired his prowess, but it was a pain being on the other end of it.

The metal of their swords collided perfectly, causing tiny sparks to cascade on her armor. Soundwave used his mass to push her back. When her pedes began to slide back, Darkstrike was forced to retract and strike again.

It was standard for Soundwave to take on an aggressive form of offense. He explained that although it wasn't his usual fighting style, it was how the Terror Twins fought. Given that it was two against one, they'd most likely take on this approach. It would be challenging, but Darkstrike yearned for victory.

Before that, she'd have to tend to the mech in front of her. This cycle's objective was to try to knock Soundwave down at least once.

His sword struck, and she deflected it. He attempted another angle, but Darkstrike was quick to block the attack.

They were moving erratically. She ran after him wherever he went, fearing that he would get the advantage if she created distance. Her arms endured a lot of weight the more power she put into her swing. Facing him helm on proved to be a challenge.

Soundwave increased his strength, his incoming blows causing her to stumble back. Darkstrike wobbled but caught herself before falling.

She noticed him shift the sword to his other servo. It would be a perfect opportunity attack since he'd still be adjusting to it.

Her plan was to mislead him when they'd clash swords and to trip him.

He swung again. Darkstrike accounted for the force in his attack and her pede placement.

Crack!

The only thing she didn't account for was her sword breaking.

Silver metal pieces scattered everywhere.

The femme stood frozen in a battle stance, nervously clutching the end of her remaining weapon. She cursed aloud.

Soundwave stopped, interrupting their spar. He turned his helm to his sword. Much to her shock, the mech made the bold decision to drop it.

The metal dramatically landed on the ground with a loud clunk. Soundwave ran towards her, and soon enough, their spar resumed.

Servo to servo combat was much more complex than sword fighting, she noticed. Darkstrike was sure that in the end, she'd have dented armor and an aching frame.

She shifted over to offense, using his strength against him to push him back. He was fast, but Darkstrike was nimble. She used her size to her advantage, slithering out of the way before he could get ahold of her. The femme crouched, staying low to the ground. A part of her was enjoying the challenges posed in their spar.

They moved in synchronization, both of them unwilling to let the other get the advantage. Any slight mistake and Darkstrike would lose her place. Soundwave already seemed to be increasing his effort. It looked like he was waiting for an opening. She'd do the same, except Darkstrike wouldn't wait for one.

She'd be proactive and act now.

With her goal in mind and optics locked, the femme moved forward. Soundwave struck at her, but she reacted fast. She swooped under his arm, popping up only mere centimeters in front of him.

Committing to her bold decision, Darkstrike moved forward, puckering her lips slightly. Trying to catch him off guard, she kissed his visor where she suspected his lips were.

Soundwave flinched back, moving so fast she almost lost her chance. Darkstrike didn't waste a klik launching forward and tackling his torso. Soundwave couldn't catch himself in time.

He stumbled back, and they fell on the ground with her on top of him.

For a nano klik, she saw discomposure in his usually graceful figure. She could see shock written all over his body language— helm tilted up, shoulders dropped, and servos hesitant. The femme had gotten the reaction she'd hoped for.

Darkstrike couldn't contain the jittery feeling in her spark. She smirked at him, showing her incisors.

He snapped out of it, appearing edged on by her gesture. Soundwave began to sit more upright, making the femme move back while still on top of him. Darkstrike attempted to stand, but he stopped her, taking hold of her wrists.

It suddenly felt like he was looming over her.

Soundwave moved with a frightening speed, switching their positions in a flurry of movements so he was on top.

Darkstrike gasped.

He pinned her to the ground, his fingers still encased around her wrists. Their proximity was close, their frames pressed together. There was no getting out of this hold; though Darkstrike completed her goal, it was still clear who her mentor was.

The femme took a few deep breathes, her chest moving against his. Their sparks were dangerously close to one another, causing a pleasant reaction on her end.

She'd never been this close to someone else's source of life. Darkstrike blushed at the implication of sparkbonding— a secondary form of intimate activity. She heard it was supposed to be highly pleasurable, sometimes even more than interface, depending on who you did it with.

Darkstrike couldn't contain her curiosity, trying her hardest to peek at his chassis. If she stared hard enough, she could almost make out the color.

Soundwave shifted, getting her attention. She realized he was staring at her. Darkstrike's optics widened in embarrassment. Her cheeks glistened blue, and her mouth curled into an excited smile.

"I believe I lost. You can stand up now," Darkstrike suggested.

His grip around her wrists tightened.

"Is there… something you want to tell me?" she hummed.

Again, she smiled coyly at him. All Darkstrike could see was her reflection on his visor. She was sure he was watching. Even though he dominated her physically, Darkstrike knew she had the upper servo. She wanted to see if he'd confront her for kissing his visor.

Darkstrike's aching body welcomed the feeling of his frame on hers. The energon inside of her steamed as a result of her exhilaration.

She audaciously winked at him. Soundwave released her wrists, servos drifting towards her chin while the other propped himself up. He kneeled over her, shifting his knee between her thighs. Darkstrike gasped, squirming in his grasp.

"Know your place," he uttered to her.

She suddenly felt a tantalizing heat bloom from the center of her body. Darkstrike shivered at the sound of his low voice. She tried to close her thighs to hide evidence of her excitement, but Soundwave's leg prevented her. Instead, he moved his knee to spread out one of her thighs.

Darkstrike made a surprised sound, feeling exposed as he looked down at her. She didn't want to reveal that she enjoyed their positions, so she glared at him.

"You're merely angry I got the better of you in our spar," Darkstrike challenged.

He slowly moved his leg up higher, gently touching her nether regions. Darkstrike closed her optics, biting her lip to stifle a moan. His servo held her chin in place, preventing her from looking away. She wondered if the rush she felt was the post-spar high or the lust that was begging to overtake her.

"You are my subordinate."

Her optics opened wide at his words. Deep in her chest, her spark fluctuated wildly.

"I'm your subordinate," Darkstrike's voice was shaky.

Soundwave tilted the femme's chin towards him. He stared directly at her.

"Do not try that again," he said, standing up.

She internally protested when his frame left hers. Until the last moment, he held onto her chin, staring at her.

Darkstrike unabashedly gazed back. He finally let go before proceeding to walk away. She chose to stay sitting on the ground.

Subspacing a fresh energon cube, Darkstrike began to simmer down for the evening.

"Training is finished," he said, beginning to gather his weapons.

"How did I perform?" she asked.

At first, Soundwave didn't reply. He continued to clean up the area. Darkstrike waited in comfortable silence.

"Handling weaponry requires work," he said, "Defense needs to be strengthened. However, skills are sufficient for match."

Darkstrike perked up, a smile tugging her lips.

"Do not grow complacent, or you will meet failure," Soundwave stated.

"Of course," Darkstrike nodded. She looked away, still unable to stop herself from smirking.

She continued to enjoy the pleasant buzz within her systems. She sprawled her arms and legs out in a casual fashion. As she shifted, her pede touched a piece of metal. Darkstrike moved her leg to get a better view.

There were fractions of metal scattered on the ground. Near it was the other half that had broken off with the handle.

"Shame I broke my sword. I'll probably have to buy a new one," she noted.

Darkstrike heard shuffling and then heavy pede-steps. Her optics darted over to see Soundwave approaching her. He walked over calmly, weapon in servo. Once he was in front of her, he held it out. Darkstrike stood up quickly, optics glued to it. She glanced at him and back at the sword.

"Return it after battle."

"I will," she quickly replied. Though she tried to conceal her emotions, her optics revealed the elation she truly felt. Darkstrike knew they were probably glowing brighter from her excitement, but she didn't care enough to stop it.

She admired his sword and its features. It was heavier than hers, likely because it was meant for a mech like Soundwave. It was sharp, the blade and handle well crafted with a suitable metal material— very sturdy and unlikely to break during battle unless she mishandled it.

Darkstrike wanted to thank him— for both the sword and the mentorship. She stopped before the words could slip out— she remembered what happened last time she showed gratitude. He had replied with "Do not thank me yet," and then it had been awkward for a few moments.

Not wanting to repeat that same mistake, she decided she'd thank him when returning the sword.

"Has femme gathered any information on opponents?"

His voice snapped her out of her thinking. It was a good chance to change the subject.

"Yes actually," Darkstrike retrieved a datapad from her subspace. When she turned it on, a page full of videos popped on, bookmarked from the cycle before. She showed him her notes and a dissection of their fighting styles.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker— brothers that work as a team despite their polar opposite personalities. I've calculated their strength, size, and weak points." She flipped to the next page.

"Sideswipe is a crowd pleaser so he will try to extend the fight as much as he can; he won't go hard on me in the beginning. Sunstreaker will, so I have to be prepared." The video showed a yellow blur nano kliks before the opponent fell unconscious.

Darkstrike flipped through more pages with annotations. As she reached the end of her notes, she ended up going a bit too far into the next section. The femme accidentally stopped on a page with an image of Soundwave displayed. There were notes on the side.

Darkstrike immediately snatched away the datapad, turning the other way to click to another page. Her face felt incredibly hot and her movements were clumsy. She was so overwhelmed that she couldn't see Soundwave's tendril come her way.

He quickly plucked the datapad from her weak grip. Darkstrike made an attempt to reach for it, to no avail.

Soundwave quickly brought it into his grasp, his tendril searching for the page they were on.

"Wait, Soundwave, I can explain!"

No doubt he was reading all her notes on him. Darkstrike had been unable to help her curiosity and attempted to learn all she could about the high-ranker. While not much had come up, she'd saved some images of Soundwave and written notes about what she knew about him.

"You have seen my optics," he stated.

Her spark began beating quickly. He likely read her note: "Visor, not part of body. Red optics here; possible mouth here?"

She thought about playing dumb or changing the subject, but it wouldn't be the best course of action; Soundwave could always see past her deception.

"Yes… the time I passed out overcharged in your room."

He remained quiet.

"This is simply research that prepared me for our sparring matches. I couldn't find much about you; a lot of what I wrote down is my own observations," Darkstrike tried to explain.

Initially, her research was to help her fight, but along the way, Darkstrike might have strayed off path. Some notes were good, and others…

She recalled drawing arrows and circles, writing "Appealing body, not too bulky. Biolights- yes! Nice waist…!"

Her face burned even hotter now.

He held the datapad up, continuing to read it.

"Observations:… interesting."

Darkstrike internally screamed. She launched at him, using the weight of her body to yank the datapad back into her arms.

"This is my private journal!" the femme huffed, turning to look at him.

"It is necessary to assure you are not plotting."

Darkstrike understood his reasoning, but there wasn't any need to keep reading her notes at some point. A part of her thought his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"I'd be a fool to plot against my only ally," she replied, "I only wanted to know more about you."

"Do not be secretive about seeking information," Soundwave said. He began walking towards the exit. Darkstrike was quick to follow.

"Then may I ask you directly?" Her optics stared at him expectantly as she waited for him to reply.

He looked at her, "No."

"No? But you know a lot about me already!"

"That was your own choice," he pointed at her.

"I feel like I'm entitled to ask some questions. I earned it—getting the better of you in our spar," Darkstrike challenged.

He was quiet again. They continued walking on the outskirts of the arena. Darkstrike watched him for a response, eager because they would split ways soon.

"One question," Soundwave negotiated.

"Only one question?" Darkstrike probed.

"One victory. One question."

She supposed his logic made sense, much to her irk.

Quickly getting over the disappointment, her mind began filling up with the possibilities of the one question she could ask him.

In all her thinking, they'd walked as far as their route went. Once going inside, they'd have to split.

"Save question for another time."

Darkstrike signed in resignation, "I suppose that gives me more time to think about what to ask."

She looked up at him and smiled. It had been a successful couple of cycles, and Darkstrike had found his company to be very pleasing. She felt like she entered a new boundary with Sounwave, especially if he was letting her ask a question about him.

As they departed, Soundwave's gaze Darkstrike as she walked away. He also realized that their relationship was evolving into something else, whether he liked to admit it or not.