A/N: Thank you for the patience, I really wanted to get this chapter right. Fight scenes really take it out of me. Any original readers will see that this chapter has been modified significantly. Enjoy!
Chapter 11
This event was an anticipated one.
Darkstrike didn't know what to envision. Even though she had done her research, fighting her opponents would be different in person. The unknown terrified her.
A lot was at stake, and she needed to be ready. Her circumstances hadn't been the best lately, but her luck would change this cycle.
A large audience awaited her; if their loud screeches were anything to go by, there was likely a packed arena. Despite her rigorous training, anxiety still managed to gnaw at her spark.
A part of her took comfort that Soundwave was attending. He was a reminder of all the hard work she'd put in the past couple of cycles.
She looked down at her sword—actually, Soundwave's. He had given her everything necessary to succeed; now, it was time for her to put in her part.
The next time she saw Soundwave, she wanted to ask him her question confidently.
Tilting the weapon slightly, she looked at her reflection. Red optics stared back at her.
In just moments, she would face off against the Terror Twins—two of Slaughter City's best Gladiators. Darkstrike knew not to expect an easy fight.
Gripping the sword once more, she held it down by her side. She'd enter the arena with a weapon in servo as a show of intimidation.
She needed a strong mentality if she wanted to be victorious.
When Darkstrike won, she would pay off her debt with Swindle and resume her role as Soundwave's assistant. That's all she wanted.
Taking a deep breath, she walked through the door. With long strides and her helm raised high, the Gladiator femme entered the colosseum.
The crowd screamed and almost hurt her audio receptors.
"In this corner, we have Kaon's own warrior: Darkstrike!"
The light reflected onto her newly painted finish.
Per Airachnid's request, she had gotten a new color scheme a few joors before the match. After a constant back and forth, they had both agreed on black and gold.
She squinted under the arena's brightness. It was hard to look up, but she could still discern the whistles and wolfish calls that went her way.
The crowd's reception made it hard to hear anything but her sparkbeat. This was the biggest group of bots she'd ever seen in one of her fights. Airachnid hadn't lied when she said she knew how to advertise.
Despite her objective to win, her true purpose was to entertain, and she would do just that.
She looked at Soundwave's sword. It was a beautiful piece of weaponry, and the fact that he had entrusted her with it filled her spark with a sense of honor. Her optics subtly tried to seek out him in the crowd. When Darkstrike found him, he was watching her.
Darkstrike took the sword and raised it high in the air.
Looking over across the arena, Darkstrike finally got a look at who the "Terror Twins" really were. They were shorter than Darkstrike had imagined, but she of all bots knew not to judge their skill based on size.
She saw the red one, Sideswipe, entertaining the crowd over in his area—likely visitors from their city. The shiny yellow one, Sunstreaker, merely shook his helm, with an annoyed expression on his face. He impatiently tapped his pede.
The news article she found was not joking about their polar opposite personalities.
When Sunstreaker caught her looking, he glared at her, crossing his arms. Darkstrike stood on guard. His movement seemed to have gotten Sideswipe's attention because soon, he was looking in her direction.
Standing next to each other, Darkstrike could see differences in their helm, physique, and chassis. It looked like they transformed into different vehicles.
Their optics also sized her up. The two mechs looked at one another, exchanging words.
Sideswipe looked at her leeringly, raising an optic ridge at her appearance. When they made optic contact, he winked at her. Sunstreaker shoved him lightly, and although she couldn't hear him, she could see words "cut it out" being mouthed.
Darkstrike made an obscene gesture with her servo.
The two mechs looked at one another before suddenly laughing and shaking their helm. She settled on glaring at them.
All optics were on her; there was no need to embarrass herself. She needed to keep her strong mentality and not let herself be affected by them. They were already trying to get into her processor before the match even started.
After yelling out more encouragement to rouse the audience, the announcer beckoned them closer.
"You all know the gist of it. The fight needs to last at least 20 kliks. Anything is allowed, and don't kill each other," the speaker declared.
"Shake servos and begin," he spoke into the microphone.
Sideswipe stepped up first to shake her servo. As soon as Darkstrike took it, he brought her servo to his lips to kiss it.
Immediately, she recoiled, taking her appendage back. Darkstrike could hear the crowd chuckle at her reaction.
"I'm not shaking servos with her; look how filthy she looks," Sunstreaker frowned. The insult struck her pride.
"Here, let me help you!" Darkstrike grinned. Suddenly, she grabbed his servo, clenching it as tight as possible. She then proceeded to flip him over in a single motion.
The announcer hurried away, leaving a surprised Sideswipe standing next to them.
She laughed loudly.
"Let's begin."
Orion
The fight was about to start soon. Most bots had situated themselves in their seats. The rows were completely full, and the mechs around him gave even less space by standing up and walking around.
The environment was just like he'd seen in the videos—chaotic, suffocating, and extremely loud. Orion wasn't enjoying himself, but his purpose for attending was to learn more about Kaon.
When the mechs called the "Terror Twins" entered the arena, the audience riled up. Many of them rose from their seats, and the mech next to him was starting to block his view.
"You don't seem to be having a good time," Megatronus chuckled.
"Is it always so… full?" Orion questioned.
"No, this is considered a special fight. That's why there are many high castes present."
Looking closer, Orion did see a lot of blue optics and shiny armor in the crowd— many aristocrats, some politicians, and lots of high-caste bots. They were particularly rowdy, a lot of them with high-grade in their servos.
Off on a corner, he could see a lot of bots waiting in line with tickets in their servos.
Megatronus noticed his gaze, "They are placing bets on who will win. Those mechs think nothing of the fighters, using them as entertainment and profiting at their expense," he uttered close to his audio receptor.
Orion couldn't help but frown at the joy that emanated from the betting stands.
Suddenly, the mechs around him riled up more, hollering and whistling loudly. The mech next to him tugged at his shoulder, pointing at the arena and nodding his approval to Orion.
"In this corner, we have Kaon's own warrior: Darkstrike!"
He immediately turned to look at her, trying to see past the mechs in front of him.
Eventually, it became less loud and he was able to hear commentary around him. Though he felt excited to see Darkstrike, it wavered at hearing the obscenities the mechs yelled around him.
"Primus-damn look at those pair of legs," one bot whistled.
"How much do you think the owner would sell her for?"
"Eh, she's not for sale; I already asked him."
"Shame, I'd love to keep her as a slave."
"I'm more interested in how well she can take a punch."
"She better last more than 10 kliks, or I want my money back."
Orion grimaced at all the things he heard. He was sure that talk like this was expected, but he didn't want to excuse it.
Knowing now wasn't the time to complain to Megatronus, he settled his optics back at Darkstrike. As he shifted in his seat to get a better view, Megatronus suddenly yelled.
"Move out of the way, before I move you myself," he commanded. The bots in front of them regarded them with angry expressions.
When they saw Megatronus, the mechs immediately retreated to their seats.
"Sometimes all bots need is a little persuasion," the silver mech remarked.
"Thank you," Orion replied nervously.
He had a full view of the fighters now.
Darkstrike confidently stood on the left side of the arena.
Light bounced off her armor, making the edges appear sharper. Though he couldn't see many details, he saw the deep, red glow in her optics. Despite her rough appearance, Orion thought Darkstrike was quite fetching.
Across from her stood two opponents. They seemed to be talking and laughing.
The announcer brought them closer and uttered a few words to them before looking at the audience.
He raised his microphone.
"Shake servos and begin!"
One of the mechs shook her servo before kissing it.
"Her opponent is polite," Orion noted.
Suddenly Darkstrike snatched her servo away.
The mechs around him laughed. "Ah so she's a bit of a prude!"
"There is no politeness in his actions," Megatronus said, "He is attempting to incite her through mockery. This battle is both physical and psychological."
Orion nodded and turned his optics back to the scene.
The other mech refused to shake her servo, which prompted Darkstrike to grab it and flip him over forcibly. The crowd was in shock for a few moments before reinvigorating.
"The fight is starting; pay close attention, Orion."
Soundwave
There was a large audience. The arena was louder than usual. It was not the typical event Soundwave would attend, but he wouldn't be absent for the femme's fight— not after he had diligently trained her for cycles.
If she didn't win, it would reflect poorly on him. Though, he wouldn't have told Darkstrike she was ready if he felt otherwise.
Soundwave had never mentored anyone before, and despite his inexperience, he felt like he'd been thorough in his teachings. It was proven by how fast Darkstrike had advanced.
The last orn had been eventful, to say the least. She still had ways to go, but she'd proven to be an adequate fighter. The femme had encountered many failures, but her relentless drive pushed her beyond her limits. He was growing used to her presence, whether he chose to admit it or not.
In the past couple of cycles, she had improved her skill, training with him early in the mornings and fighting group battles in the arena in the evenings. It had also been a way for her to build a reputation and gain more popularity. It explained why more mechs were betting on her than usual.
Soundwave broke out of thought when Darkstrike entered the scene. Her appearance riled up the audience.
The announcer introduced her as she walked forward. Soundwave tuned out the mechs surrounding him to observe her.
She emerged confident, weapon clutched tight in her servo. Her armor was polished and newly painted. He thought the colors black and gold suited her. She appeared more intimidating, and her red optics stood out more. He also noticed that although her finish was new, she had already scuffed it up—a personal choice, he suspected.
Darkstrike scanned the crowd, stopping momentarily when they both made optic contact. She looked away quickly, but he could see her lips curl into a smile.
He remembered the cycle before when she'd worn that exact same smile. It was when she had bested him in their spar. The femme had sat over him, lips grinning, her vivid optics staring at him in delight. Despite his visor, it felt like she stared directly at him.
Soundwave couldn't remove that image of her from his processor.
A mech whistled loudly around him. He turned to see RocketShield standing up and causing noise.
He furrowed his optic ridges.
Darkstrike was truly a sight for sore optics in this case.
Soundwave watched her shake servos with her first opponent. The mech brought her knuckles to his lips. Though he attempted to goad her, Darkstrike did well in brushing him off.
The yellow bot visibly refused to grab her servo.
Darkstrike moved quickly, stepping forward to grip his palm. She threw him over her shoulder and slammed him to the ground. A cloud of dust emanated from the scene.
The femme had made her first move.
Soundwave watched closely, looking to see how she'd fare against more experienced opponents. If he'd mentored her well, Darkstrike had all the knowledge she needed to succeed.
Darkstrike
Sideswipe had been quick to try to attack her after flipping his brother. Darkstrike evaded it, stepping on Sunstreaker's chassis in the process.
There was an audible "oof" and then and growl.
"You wench! You're going to pay for that!"
Though Darkstrike would hold back for the beginning of their match, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of an easy fight. She'd live up to her Gladiator reputation.
Sideswipe was fast, using the wheels of his pedes to catch up to her.
He threw his sword in the air before jumping to grab it. He swung down, aiming for her helm.
Darkstrike deflected it and stood her ground when he repeated the action.
Though she held off, the force pushed her backward.
Darkstrike heard the sound of femmes cheering in the background. Sideswipe smirked from a distance, performing a double axel before skating in her direction.
She tried to brace herself, but he caught her off guard by grabbing her shoulder, making her spin as he brushed past her. The audience laughed in response.
Darkstrike frowned. She realized that he wasn't aiming to injure her as much as he was trying to show off.
"Are you slow," he did a flip, "or just star struck?" He thrust his sword forward.
"I didn't know we were supposed to be trying yet."
As she pushed him off, Darkstrike suddenly felt the presence of another bot behind her. Crouching down, she leaped into the air before Sunstreaker could tackle her.
Darkstrike landed firmly, breathing steadily.
Both mechs came for her, and Darkstrike had no choice but to go on defense. It would be risky; it meant she couldn't turn her back until she disarmed one of them.
Both blades aimed at different parts of her body. Darkstrike deflected the more lethal blow. Her sword clashed with Sunstreaker's, but Sideswipe's lesser swing cut her arm.
Unwilling to be fazed, she continued without hesitation. Sword in servo and arm raised, she continued fighting, focusing more on countering them.
They came at her back to back, not giving her a chance to breathe. Their swings were heavy and fast, giving her almost no time to react.
It felt like they were trying to gouge her limit, gradually increasing their skill. The more she held out against their strength, the more effort they put in.
With every coming blow, they hit harder and faster. Given that they weren't targeting her weak points, she suspected this was a tactic to test her strength or tire her out.
Every now and then, their swords would get a little closer to grazing her weak points. Darkstrike fended well against their erratic movements, but she found herself stuck.
She deflected what she could with her blade, but any other unavoidable hit struck her forearm armor.
The femme dodged left and right, attempting to retreat and get out from between them.
"Where do you think you're going?" Sideswipe intervened.
The twins refused to let up, even for a klik. It was aggravating to see them dancing around her.
Focus. Don't think. Act.
It wasn't until Sunstreaker came at her harder that she felt a new wound on her leg. Fresh energon began leaking.
She grit her denta.
Darkstrike prepared to strike at Sideswipe. He braced for her, but she switched tactics, suddenly aiming for Sunstreaker. He wasn't ready to be struck on his chassis. A trail of blood whipped from her sword.
She ducked Sideswipe's sword and stepped to the side.
Sunstreaker launched at her, but Darkstrike flipped backward, kicking him in the face. He backed up significantly. After a few more flips, she managed to gain more distance between them.
Turning back to Sideswipe, she threw her sword at him. Using the distraction, she ran towards him.
Just as he was about to block it, Darkstrike jumped high, using her thrusters to gain more height.
The klik he deflected the weapon away, she suddenly popped up, using her whole body to punch his face. He was shoved back a few mechameters. Darkstrike didn't let him react, wrapping her arms around his waist and tackling him down, helm first.
He appeared discombobulated.
The femme stood up and took a step back. Raising her leg, she kicked him forward. His body rolled over twice.
Sideswipe rolled over a few times before groaning.
Darkstrike kicked his helm as hard she could, making him recoil from the force. She wanted to finish him off, but she still had Sunstreaker to worry about.
The femme struck him one more time for good measure.
As she went to pick up her sword, she saw Sideswipe's blade on the floor. She took his weapon in her other servo.
Immediately, she noted the sword was heavier and shorter than Soundwave's.
Darkstrike looked for Sunstreaker, hoping she could try to beat him before the red mech stood up.
A gust of wind brushed behind her. Flashes of yellow were her only warning of his advances.
She turned around, and they met each other with full intensity.
The audience responded loudly.
Sunstreaker was faster than Darkstrike anticipated.
Fighting them individually was different than fighting them at the same time. Their fighting styles merged when they worked as a team, but their skills were more prevalent when they fought her like this.
He was like she expected him to be, fast and to the point. His way of fighting was aggressive, always aiming to injure. Sunstreaker wasn't playing games like Sideswipe.
The arc of his sword swing was wide, giving him more momentum in his strike. It also meant Darkstrike had to back up to get out of his radius constantly. It was a constant cycle of jumping back and forth and looking for an opening.
Given the two hefty weapons in her servos, it was hard for her to find an opportunity to wound him.
"You don't deserve to use that sword!" Sunstreaker spoke through the sound of metal clanking.
"Neither does the bot who lost it!"
Suddenly, Darkstrike was grabbed from behind, an arm putting her in a chokehold.
Looking up, she saw Sideswipe smirk down at her. Energon leaked from his lip.
Her optics widened in surprise; she thought he would've been down for longer.
I underestimated him!
"Now, that's not nice to say," he chastised.
She struggled, glaring hard at him. His hold was making it hard for her to speak.
"I had it under control," Sunstreaker snapped.
"Okay bro, whatever you say."
"I'll take this," He took her sword from her servo and threw it a few mechameters away, "And this, too." He reached for his own weapon.
Before he could grab it, Darkstrike threw it far ahead. She proceeded to knock her helm back into his face.
"Agh!" When his hold loosened, she elbowed his abdomen. Running away from him, Darkstrike attempted to grab her sword.
As she reached for the handle, Sunstreaker threw a small blade in her direction. It pierced directly into her servo, pinning it to the ground.
The pain was immediate.
"Agh!" the femme cried out.
She felt a hot, stinging sensation before blood pooled out.
Darkstrike grabbed the handle of the blade, plucking it from her palm. More fluid gushed out.
She added pressure to the wound, biting her lip to muffle her howl.
Sunstreaker leaped over, sword raised in the air.
Her optics widened in hesitation.
He grinned.
Darkstrike had only a nano-klik to react.
Her mind raced at the options she had. She could use her claw ability, but she wouldn't be able to reach him with the blade in the way. Darkstrike wasn't even sure she could activate it at the moment, given her injury. It was also too late to dodge his attack.
The thought of failure was growing with every klik, and Darkstrike couldn't take it.
As his sword came down at her, she took a deep breath. There was only one thing she could do, and she would need to concentrate hard.
Soundwave hadn't been able to teach her this successfully, but then again, at the time, she hadn't been under extreme pressure.
She hoped he was watching.
When the sword was close enough, her arms moved lightning fast.
She clamped her servos on the flat part of the blade, succeeding in catching it. It took an incredible amount of strength, and it hurt like pit holding with her wounded servo. The femme could see blue fluid stain his sword.
The crowd screamed in delight.
Taking advantage that he was off guard, Darkstrike threw his sword behind her.
She delivered a swift kick to the exposed part of his knee. Seeing he was unbalanced, Darkstrike hooked an arm under his shoulder.
Sunstreaker punched her waist two times before she was able to catch his forearm, forcing it to stay wrapped around her middle. She leaned their bodies to the left.
Darkstrike spun herself around to face the other direction, keeping his arms locked in place. He struggled behind her.
The femme leaned forward, taking him onto her back. Darkstrike flipped him as hard as she could. Her body twisted, slamming him onto the ground.
Sunstreaker landed on his back.
Though it was sloppy, Darkstrike succeeded in her hip throw.
Immediately upon letting him go, Darkstrike felt suspicious of her surroundings. She ducked, feeling the breeze of movement behind her.
Sideswipe had attempted to get the drop on her again.
Getting in stance, they circled each other. He clenched his fists, appearing like he was preparing for servo-to-servo combat.
She noticed he didn't have his sword. It was likely still in the spot she'd thrown it.
Servo combat was territory Darkstrike was more familiar with. Becoming eager, she felt her body grow hotter, particularly her claws.
She brought her servo up, seeing the bleeding begin to slow down. Darkstrike felt a strong heat emanate from it.
She used her feelings of determination to hone more of the hotness. Her claws glowed blue momentarily before reverting back. Darkstrike's servo began to tremble, but it had luckily stopped the bleeding. She would try to use her left servo as little as possible.
Not wasting any time, she threw the first punch.
Sideswipe dodged it, but she anticipated this, raising her leg and double kicking the side of his waist. He visibly shifted.
The femme aimed a kick at his chassis, striking right at his solar plexus. His body was thrown back, and he made an audible "oof."
Darkstrike jumped back before he could retaliate.
Sideswipe came at her, shoulders and arms raised at his optic-level. Their forearm armor clashed together vigorously, causing sparks to ignite.
He threw relentless punches at her. Sideswipe came at her in unpredictable spurts, knowing exactly where to aim. She had to resort to dodging.
He struck at her waist, helm, and torso, all in succession. His hits were painful and hard to counter.
Though Sideswipe was a heavy hitter, his movements were limited. He was slower in servo combat, most likely because he had to switch from wheels to regular pedes.
Darkstrike knew she wouldn't have much time before Sunstreaker joined back in. She needed to inflict more damage.
She aimed a few kicks at his ankle, making him wobble. She switched targets, suddenly aiming at his face.
The first hit made his head turn almost 90 degrees, and she could see him spit out energon.
As she went back for another blow, Sideswipe unexpectedly prevented her second hit, catching her leg. He hoisted her up before slamming her body onto the ground.
The force winded her, causing her to feel uncomfortable pressure in her torso.
Darkstrike rolled away from him before he could grab her again. She stood up, coughing a few times. After a few nano-kliks, she finally exhaled, feeling the tension within her relieve.
Suddenly, she felt heavy servos on her wings.
The ground seemed to slip from under her as she was thrown in the air and slammed onto the floor.
Darkstrike clutched her helm.
"That's payback," Sunstreaker remarked.
She rolled on her back and jumped to stand on her pedes. The femme blinked several times to rid of any dizziness.
Looking around, Darkstrike saw the twins circle around her, both with weapons in servo.
Unfortunately, her sword was located across the arena.
Glancing up at the time, she saw 18 kliks had already gone by. Dread began to form inside her at the realization that they were trying to end the match already.
I need to get my sword.
The mechs crouched down.
It would be difficult, but not impossible. Darkstrike took a deep breath, attempting to calm all anxious thoughts.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker launched forward.
She turned down her audios, silencing the massive audience before her.
Focus.
The femme stood still, waiting for them to come.
Right before they swung, Darkstrike leaped up into the air using her thrusters. She tumbled forward, somersaulting out of their way.
Landing on her pedes, she ran as fast as she could.
Darkstrike could hear turning wheels; it meant Sideswipe was already on her trail.
As his sword came at her wings, Darkstrike arched back, contouring her body to avoid him.
She pictured Soundwave and how graceful he would've been.
Sunstreaker managed to catch up, coming on her right. He attempted to slash her ankles, but Darkstrike pounced forward, doing a servo-stand and landing on her pedes.
Sideswipe skated towards her, and she braced herself.
Much to her surprise, the red mech zoomed past her. Darkstrike warily eyed him as he traveled further ahead.
Her question was answered when he rushed over to pick up her sword.
He grinned, waving her sword mockingly.
Frag.
Darkstrike slowed down, attempting to analyze the situation.
They were trying to corner her.
Sideswipe appeared to be waiting for her. If she ran to him, Sunstreaker would follow, and they'd gang up on her again.
She needed to eliminate one of them.
Suddenly determined, Darkstrike did the opposite of what Sideswipe wanted and ran away from his direction.
She darted for Sunstreaker, trying to meet him instead of vice versa. He was closer than anticipated, fist already coming her way.
Her forearms blocked his attack. Sunstreaker's sword cut through her armor, getting close to her actual arm.
The femme began quickening her pace, striking with her claws and dodging when he directed his sword at her.
He managed to get a few swipes in, but it looked like he was getting slower. When he raised his sword to gain momentum, he left himself open. Given that Darkstrike didn't have a sword, she didn't have to retract like him.
This is as good a chance as any to take him down.
She could hear Sideswipe coming their way.
Her body increased in temperature again.
Looking down at her uninjured servo, she directed all internal heat to her claws as a means to charge them up. Darkstrike wouldn't expel the energy straight onto his body as she had to other opponents, instead using it to enhance her own strength.
I hope I know what I'm doing.
Darkstrike jumped when his sword was at its highest peak and let out a fierce battle cry.
Her fist crashed down on Sunstreaker's celiac plexus.
As she connected her punch with his body, there was a moment of recoil for both of them. Blue sparks of electricity danced across her entire arm, flowing in one direction.
Sunstreaker's blue optics widened as he saw it coming.
He felt weightless to her as she punched him into the air. An incredible amount of pressure emanated from her fist.
Darkstrike felt powerful.
It felt good to rely on sheer strength for once.
Her optics widened in glee as she watched the yellow mech fly up several mechameters. She could see him spit out saliva.
The femme stumbled back, landing on her aft.
When he hit the ground, his body thumped loudly. Lots of dust emanated from the scene.
Looking at her servo, Darkstrike saw the sparks die down. She remained uninjured.
In contrast, Sunstreaker didn't move. His motionless body meant Darkstrike had finished him off.
The feeling of relief flooded in. Her spark beat quickly, a result of her unwavering adrenaline. With him out of the way, she'd have a solid winning chance.
When Darkstrike looked over to Sideswipe, she was met with a silver blade coming straight for her.
She moved to the right, dodging barely. It grazed her face as it flew past her.
Darkstrike touched the cut, noticing blood on her servos.
The audience's roars reverberated across the open field. She could feel the vibration in her core, shaking her up from the inside. Feelings of disgust overcame her.
Darkstrike glanced back at the offending weapon, and on noticing that it was her sword, she wasted no time scrambling to grab it.
She couldn't help but sign in relief.
Looking ahead, Sideswipe approached her, two swords in his servos— his and his brother's. He likely had gotten it when she was distracted.
"Good," he looked at her with hidden intent, "You're going to need it."
They charged at each other.
Sparks bounced off their weapons.
Sideswipe's swings were heavy, the force pushing her pedes back. She had to grip the sword handle with two servos. The strain was making her servo start to bleed again.
Sideswipe went at her full throttle, unafraid and unwavering. He jumped over and around her, his overwhelming skill caused her to back up. It was clear he was no longer holding back.
They were both fighting to win.
Unfortunately, the fight was straining her body; she took a fair amount of damage. It was beginning to affect her speed and precision.
Darkstrike was getting sloppy, and Sideswipe was becoming aware of it.
Her defense wasn't holding up.
Despite thinking that the fight would get significantly easier after taking down one opponent, Sideswipe only seemed to get more confident. He was proving to be much more difficult than his brother; she certainly hadn't expected that.
He mocked her, getting close to wounding her before purposely backing up last nano klik. He kept her on edge, sometimes making direct contact or avoiding her entirely.
It was messing with her processor.
"Enough already!" She growled.
Sideswipe zoomed over to her side, coming behind her. She felt a sharp pain radiate from her wings. It felt like his sword had grazed her multiple times.
Darkstrike tried to look back at her wing but couldn't with Sideswipe so close to her.
"I left a little surprise on your wings. Hopefully, you think of me when you see it in the mirror," he winked.
Darkstrike grit her denta.
"What did you do?" she asked angrily. The femme attacked him with newfound vigor. Sideswipe countered her, appearing unfazed.
"Just gave my autograph to my number one fan," he smirked.
Her optics widened, "Distasteful!"
"What? I only did my initials."
She attempted to come at him, but he countered with twice her strength.
More weariness set in the more kliks the fight dragged on.
Darkstrike found herself losing.
Sideswipe swooped her legs. She fell down, landing on her front side.
He took his sword and slashed it on her spine. She yelled out in pain.
Darkstrike had to change her strategy—and fast.
Using her claws was out of the question. One of them was throbbing, and the other already felt cold. Everyone was watching; her next move would determine everything.
There was a clear solution: she needed to fight dirty, and not just her usual way.
It would be downright humiliating doing such a thing in front of the audience. It would give them a good show, but it wouldn't reflect well on her.
Darkstrike had attempted to avoid stopping to low tactics until now, but judging by the way his pede pressed between her wings, it was going to be very necessary.
Her claws dug into the ground. Using all her strength, she rolled over, managing to move from under his pede.
Darkstrike stood up.
It wouldn't be easy changing her strategy.
Whatever it took to win… right?
She didn't think there was any way to degrade herself more, yet here she was.
Putting on a brave face, Darkstrike ran towards him. She swung her sword erratically, doing her best to match his speed. Though it succeeded in making him back up, it quickly drained her energy.
She went at it nonstop. Sideswipe soon lost his smirk, his face looking more determined.
"Scraplet got your tongue?" she snarked.
They stood in front of each other, pushing with their swords.
"I guess you can say you've left me speechless," he winked. Darkstrike's optic twitched.
It was time to execute her plan.
Darkstrike focused on fast swings more than precise ones; apart from overwhelming him, she wanted him to focus on countering her.
She envisioned her battle with Soundwave the cycle before. Images played out in her mind, giving her some idea of what to do.
At that moment, it was her weapon against his. His blade was heavy and broad. The material was sturdy, of good quality.
Her sword was longer and lighter, the blade much sharper. The material was excellent, judging by the shiny, silver color. There were no chips to be found on the entire blade.
Swinging it down, her weapon cut through his, breaking it into several fragments. The force caused it to fly out of his servo.
Darkstrike knew this wouldn't incapacitate him permanently, so she would have to go a bit further.
She jumped into his personal space, only a few inches away from him. Sideswipe raised his optic ridges.
Making direct optic contact, she leered at him. He looked both confused and excited.
Wasting no time, she pressed her lips against his. They kissed for about three nano kliks. He reacted by pressing further. She wasn't sure if he knew what he was doing or if he was reacting off of muscle memory.
She was already hearing roguish whistles coming from the background.
Bringing her leg back, she swung it forward and smashed into his groin area, causing Sideswipe to retract.
He yelled loudly.
"You fragging idiot!" She looked over to see Sunstreaker still on the ground but awake. He cursed more, but the femme couldn't hear past the audience's cheers.
Sideswipe wore a pained expression. Clutching his codpiece, he sank to the ground and hunched over.
For good measure, Darkstrike brought up the handle of her sword and hit his face as hard as she could. The blunt force made him completely fall to the ground. Energon leaked from the side of his helm.
She kicked the mech roughly, flipping him over. Observing his face, she saw his optics were closed.
Finally, Darkstrike was able to breathe.
She wiped his saliva from her lips, spitting it next to him. She hated having to do such a thing, but at least it was all over.
Putting a pede on his waist to hold him in place, she brought her sword down. On his chassis, she slashed the two letters "D" and "S." It took up almost his entire chest, compared to his initials on the side of her wing.
Smirking, she raised her sword in the air.
Megatronus
The femme took a step forward, and for a few kliks, she appeared to be kissing her opponent.
A lot of questioning mutters and whistles emanated from the audience.
Megatronus looked over at Orion. He felt amusement at seeing the flustered look on his face. The mech coughed, glancing away momentarily.
Clank
He turned back to the arena.
The fighter, Sideswipe, laid on the ground, clutching his codpiece. It wasn't difficult to deduce what happened.
Darkstrike turned her sword, using the blunt handle to knock him out. When he fell, the femme kicked him over.
She drew her sword and slashed letters on his chest. On a closer look, he saw it was her initials. It was a clear show of dominance.
Darkstrike was doing just as he did to her.
An optic for an optic.
Putting a pede on the mech, she raised her sword in victory.
The audience reacted with thunderous roars. Megatronus clapped as well.
It was intriguing that she had chosen to use her charm as a distraction; it wasn't a tactic she usually performed. It certainly made him wonder about the nature of her and Soundwave's "mentorship."
"Do you see? She fared just fine," Megatronus said, talking over the cheers.
"I… suppose," Orion mouthed.
Looking closely at him, he could see it: pity, disbelief, anger, all swirling in his optics. But, most of all, he appeared relieved.
Megatronus appreciated that the fight was nonlethal. It likely would've ended ages ago if it had been a deathmatch. It'd been the perfect chance to show Orion the gory details of a Gladiator match.
He knew that Orion would feel mixed emotions upon seeing Kaon's most violent location. Given his origin, Megatronus recognized that his friend was sheltered. Though, that wasn't entirely a bad thing; his mind was still young—adaptable.
He was not yet desensitized to the violence, and it explained why Orion was a mech filled with idealistic dreams. He needed to accept the corruption that consumed Cybertron in order to understand his cause fully.
Megatronus wanted to give him one last push in the right direction.
Orion would have to leave the comfort of ignorance; otherwise, he would be reduced to nothing more than a conforming high caste. The truth was not a pretty sight.
Though, judging how attentive he had been, that likely wouldn't be the case.
Megatronus almost thought Orion would've asked to leave halfway through, but to his surprise, they'd stayed until the end.
Though Orion had come mainly to see the femme, he had observed much more. They'd noticed the politicians present, the full betting stands, and the angry drunks within the crowd. It had been a chaotic match, both inside the arena and out.
In the end, no one had expected the outcome of the fight. The femme's victory stirred controversy in the audience.
The femme Gladiator, Darkstrike, was an example of a bot who had encountered nothing but hardship since arriving to Kaon. She'd become fully aware of their planet's injustices by experiencing it herself; the femme had learned what it was to survive Cybertron's lowest social class.
Just like Orion, she originated from an upper caste. From what he heard, she'd been abandoned in Kaon, ignorant and hesitant. Lanyard had dropped her into their ranks, expecting nothing but failure. But, unexpectedly, she survived their harsh lifestyle, and it had molded her into a different person.
She had been enlightened.
Megatronus wanted to enlighten Orion in the same way.
He would have to be patient, though; everything was going according to plan for now.
Darkstrike
The speaker approached the area. Sunstreaker trailed behind with an indignant expression on his face.
"There you have it, Bots! Exceeding our expectations since her first fight," he mocked, "Give an applause for Kaon's Gladiator: Darkstrike!"
The applause was loud. She turned down her audios to quiet the obnoxious cheering.
Darkstrike felt out of breath. She was covered in blood, dents, and scratches. It was getting difficult attempting to uphold the image of an indestructible fighter. The mech on the ground reminded her just how much training was required to win.
Darkstrike made for the exit, seeing as her presence was no longer required in the arena. Her wings drooped, but the femme forced her posture straight. The urge to limp wasn't as strong as her pride.
It felt like a haven passing through the arena doors. Her limbs felt immensely heavy and she had no choice but to lean on the wall for support.
She suddenly remembered the injury on her back and flinched in pain. Looking down at herself, she grimaced.
"Wait! Wait!"
Darkstrike stood up, audios alert. The voice seemed to come from the arena.
"Sideswipe, what the pit are you doing?"
A red figure burst through the doorway.
She took a few steps back.
Sideswipe looked at her.
"There you are!" His optics lit up.
Darkstrike raised her optic ridges in surprise; just a klik ago, he'd been knocked out on the ground. She immediately regarded him defensively.
Sunstreaker soon appeared behind him and frowned when he saw her.
"This is why you got up in such a hurry? What could you possibly want with this disgrace?" Sunstreaker glared.
"Ironic coming from the bot who lost first," she retorted.
"You only won because you fought dishonorably."
"Don't be so naive," Darsktrike replied, "I knew my goal, and I achieved it."
"Tsk…"
They both stared each other down.
Sideswipe intervened, coming between them, "Why don't we simmer down, it was a long fight, and we're all tired—"
"How could you be defending her, Sideswipe? After she humiliated you in front of the audience and tarnished our name—our city? Look at your chassis!"
Sideswipe grinned and shrugged, "There could be worse ways to lose than getting knocked out by a pretty femme."
"I can't believe you," Sunstreaker growled, "I'm done with this. You two are beneath me."
"Don't listen to him; he's not used to losing, especially since it's our first battle in Kaon."
"He's certainly a delight…" Darkstrike murmured.
"Sunstreaker's actually great once you get to know him. Thinking about it now, I bet he's all cranky because he didn't get a kiss before getting KO'ed."
"I can still hear you!" the other mech exclaimed, "Sideswipe, let's go!"
"Speaking of which, before I leave, I wanted to ask," he paused and reached into his subspace. He revealed a small device. "Is there any chance I can get your number?"
Darkstrike looked at him in astonishment. Her optics widened, and her mouth fell agape, a blush creeping up to her cheeks.
"After everything, you actually want my number?"
"Yeah, out in the arena it's nothing personal. I hold no grudges," he replied.
"And you're not mad about… y'know." She looked below his waist.
"Ha well…" he glanced away, "It was worth it for a sweet kiss," Sideswipe smirked.
Darkstrike couldn't help but think about Soundwave. He likely saw the stunt she had pulled. She hoped he wouldn't think differently of her.
"You're cute," she looked at the device and back at him, "But you're not my type."
"Alright, fair," he assured, "If you change your mind, I'll be at the afterparty. You gonna be there?"
Darkstrike shook her helm, "I doubt it, but good luck." She began to walk away.
"Good fight; I hope we can get a rematch sometime," Sideswipe waved at her.
She didn't respond, continuing on her path.
What an interesting turn of events. It was amusing to her, despite the pain she felt. Darkstrike was fine never seeing them again. At this point, she was done hearing about the "Terror Twins."
Her back radiated with pain in reminder of the damage they'd done to her.
And as much as she wanted to relax, she would have make a few stops. Airachnid wanted her to pay a visit, emphasizing that there would only be good news for her if she won. Lucky for Darkstrike, that happened to be the case.
Afterward, she'd pass by the medic bay.
Hopefully, that won't take too long.
As soon as she was out, she would see the mech she truly wanted to celebrate with.
Walking out of the medic bay, Darkstrike didn't feel all that better. Her stinginess had prevented her from receiving full treatment. Considering she had just won her match, he was trying to make a 10% cut.
Her injuries hurt, but not enough to pay that much.
Darkstrike had gotten some rough fixes, but she was fine with that. Given all her recent fighting, she was starting to learn how to treat herself anyways.
That being done with, she went off to Soundwave's room. He had told her to find him there after the match.
The closer she got, the more excited she became. Darkstrike was eager to share her victory with him. She didn't want to celebrate in the traditional way. Only a few Gladiators were invited to the lavish afterparty, mainly high rankers or the surviving competitors. Airachnid had stressed that her attendance was highly requested.
The idea of being in a room full of drunken high castes didn't sound appealing to her. When she'd said that out loud, Airachnid laughed.
An evening with Soundwave in his room was much more ideal. Darkstrike blushed at how it sounded. She only wanted to work on their project, but if anything else happened to occur…
She shook her helm, trying to prevent any more intrusive thoughts. Darkstrike supposed it was the post-battle high talking.
Finally reaching the hallway, she looked around to ensure no one was nearby. Reaching his door, she immediately typed in the code.
As the door opened, she entered quickly. Her optics sought him out immediately, her spark leaping out of her chassis when she finally saw him.
Soundwave was at his workspace. He looked up at her.
"Hello," she couldn't help the smile that crept up.
He nodded in greeting.
Darkstrike brushed off any feelings of shyness. Not wanting to bring up her fight just yet, she approached him, taking out the datapad.
"I continued organizing your notes like you wanted. I've already shown you some of my progress."
When she handed him the tablet, their fingers touched. Though it didn't seem to faze Soundwave, it did her. A jittery feeling passed through her servo and to her spark. She did her best to conceal the hot sensation on her face.
While he read her work, Darkstrike studied the items on his workspace. She saw the prototype of Laserbeak's wings and a few broken fragments. There was one particular piece that caught her optic. Though she wanted to grab it, she refrained until she got his permission.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Soundwave turned to a blank page and began typing. Words appeared on screen in an instant. His fingers were quick, darting across on the surface nonstop. He never once backspaced or hesitated. When he typed the last word, he returned the datapad back to her.
"Corrections are needed; look through notes," Soundwave replied, "Otherwise sufficient."
"I'll get started on them right away," she said. He held up a servo, signaling her to stop.
"First, take note of current progress." Soundwave motioned to the wings on the table. He bought the drone body into view and quickly connected all the parts on the table.
Darkstrike traveled closer, excited to see how much he had advanced. Now that she no longer needed to be trained, she could focus her efforts on the project.
When it turned on, Darkstrike's optics widened. It powered up, its wings flapping shakily. After a few nano kliks, it seemed to have gotten traction. It managed to stay afloat and even fly in circles.
After showing its capabilities, Soundwave powered it off.
"Incredible," she marveled, "You're farther than I thought." Flipping to a new page, Darkstrike began making her own notes.
"I notice his propellers need some work. Can I take a look?"
Soundwave nodded.
Keeping the datapad in one arm, Darkstrike reached over to grab it. She flexed her servo a little too quickly, causing bolts of pain to travel up her appendage.
"Ah!" she flinched. Bringing it back, she saw fresh energon start to bleed through. Subspacing the datapad, she used her other servo to press down on it. "Slag…"
"Injury has not been tended to," Soundwave noticed.
"The medic charges too much. I thought I was fine," Darkstrike admitted.
"Sit," he began gathering different tools.
Darkstrike shook her helm. "I can do it; it's a quick fix—"
"Sit."
She knew better than to argue, especially if he was repeating himself.
Darkstrike raised the seat up higher and sat down next to the table.
He turned to her, a small medical tool in his servo. Without hesitation, he grabbed her servo to inspect it.
A part of her felt content that he was comfortable enough to touch her without thinking twice. In contrast, Darkstrike felt the jittery feeling return.
His servo was larger than hers. He held her palm carefully. She was reminded of the time she had accidentally released her power onto herself. He had also tended to her that time. That was an orn ago, yet it felt like much longer.
He turned on the device and started sealing her wounds.
"I noticed you came to my fight," Darkstrike conversed.
He nodded.
"What did you think?" she asked.
He took a moment as he continued to work on her servo. "Servo-combat skills have improved. Sword skills are sufficient."
Darkstrike attempted to hide her satisfied reaction.
"However, carelessness caused opponents to strike vulnerable areas. You obtained unnecessary injuries." He motioned to her palm.
"You're right… I need to work on my defense."
Soundwave moved onto her back. He held her wing out, staring at it for a klik or so.
She suddenly remembered that Sideswipe had slashed his, and she supposed Sunstreaker's initials on her wing.
"Careless…" he chastised.
She looked down in embarrassment. "I will do better next time."
He began mending the gash on her spine. Darkstrike hissed when the device turned on. When she began moving, Soundwave held her in place by the shoulder.
"Refrain from asking owners for income again. Be wise about surviving."
"I will," she winced.
After a few more painful kliks, he finished up.
Darkstrike sighed in relief.
Soundwave walked in front of her. On the chair, she was only a few inches shorter than Soundwave; usually, she only reached his chest. His helm tilted down as he looked at her.
His servo reached up to her face, cupping her chin. Darkstrike noted how warm his servos were.
"Do not resort to low tactics to win." Soundwave's finger grazed her lips. She blushed, optics drifting away.
Shame filled her when she realized what he was referring to. Darkstrike had hoped to avoid the subject.
"I didn't want to… but I didn't think I could beat him otherwise," she looked back at him, "A lot was at stake, and… I was getting desperate."
She wasn't proud of what she had done, but it'd been necessary. The pressure on her had been high, and at the moment, Darkstrike had very few options.
"Do not let it happen again."
"I won't," she assured.
"Remove mark on wing immediately."
"I will."
He raised her helm higher and could see her reflection on his visor.
While anyone could find issues with his domineering attitude, she didn't. She would take his advice and follow his orders, especially after everything he'd done for her.
Though she wasn't sure how, she could feel that his irk extended beyond her being careless. He likely disapproved of the way she handled herself with Sideswipe.
A quick thought passed through her processor, wondering if he could possibly feel jealous.
Could he be?
The thought made her feel even more feverish. Soundwave released her chin. Turning away, he walked to the other side of the table.
No, probably not.
Darkstrike leaned her arm on the large metal table and watched as he put things away.
"I'd like to work making corrections to my notes before I leave," she said.
Soundwave nodded.
"Before I forget," she said, "As a way to show my gratitude, I wanted to give you this."
Darkstrike subspaced an energon cube. While most drinks were blue, the one in her servo was pink; it meant it was extremely high grade energon, of the finest quality.
Soundwave reached for it, inspecting it thoroughly.
"It's Visco, the best liquor on Cybertron. I received it, courtesy of my sponsor Airachnid."
He looked at her.
"Yes, she and I are on good terms now. I don't entirely trust her, but there are benefits to being on her good side," She sipped her drink, "Cheers!"
She took her first gulp. The flavor was strong, the bitter and savory aroma blending together. It trickled down her throat smoothly, immediately entering her system.
"Wow…!"
"Do not drink much. Visco energon is extremely potent."
"It's merely to alleviate some of my pain. I won't overdo it." Darkstrike noticed him set his cube aside. She suspected he wouldn't drink it in front of her. Though it was expected, a part of her felt a bit disappointed.
She sipped on more energon, already beginning to feel warm from the effects. A wave of relaxation passed over her, her aching joints and sore muscles finally feeling better.
"Soundwave," she called him. Darkstrike liked saying his name out loud; it had a nice ring on her tongue.
He turned to her.
"I figured out what I wanted to ask you."
He didn't respond at first.
It made her nervous, but she stood her ground. Darkstrike stared at him, waiting for an answer.
"What is your query?" he asked.
She released the breath she was holding in, "Why do you wear a visor?"
Soundwave stopped what he was doing before looking away.
Darkstrike could suddenly feel tension radiating from him. For a few moments, he didn't respond. It put her on edge, more than before.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she assured nervously.
"There is no true reason," he responded. "In old caste, it was mandatory to wear visors. Now, there is no need to remove it."
"I see…" Darkstrike said. She tried to take it another step further, "Where did you work?"
"One question," he reminded her. His tone was a bit sharp. She could tell she hit a sensitive topic for him.
"You're right, I apologize." She looked away, taking a few more sips from her drink.
Darkstrike cursed at herself for making things tense. She had only wanted to know more about him, but she'd only succeeded in making things uneasy.
I need to choose my words more carefully.
The femme needed to think fast if she wanted to save the conversation, especially if Soundwave was already packing up his materials.
"As you know, mechs of my former caste were chasing me when I first arrived at the Pits."
He looked at her.
"But there's a bit more than that," Darkstrike began, "I worked for a fuel company called 'Unite Energon' in Altihex. I was secretary to the CEO for five vorns. I'd always known something was going on behind the scenes, but I was constantly distracted with the amount of work I was given every cycle.
He must've gotten sloppy one cycle because I found out he was laundering money through some loose receipts. Even more surprising— it was earned from the funding of Gladiator rings. I was shocked, and I didn't know what to do. I told my creators, but they told me to keep quiet and do my job." Darkstrike rambled,
"I took their advice and didn't say anything, but I guess it looked like I was going to do something rash from their perspective. They ended up telling my boss. The next cycle, he sent two mechs to assassinate me as I arrived at work. I only escaped because I knew my way through Altihex's tunnels. I flew to a couple of cities for refuge before deciding on Kaon; I figured I'd be able to get my servos on a weapon for a low price. I never got the chance because they chased me until the very final kliks that I ended up in the arena. I still don't understand why they stopped there, but sometimes I wonder what could've been my fate if they'd caught me."
"Ironic isn't it?—Considering where I ended up. Sometimes I think that maybe they'll come back… Oftentimes, I even want them to. I think about what I would do to them."
She couldn't help but chuckle, running a servo tiredly over her face, "Sorry, I guess I'm rambling." Darkstrike took another sip. "I suppose I'll go work on our project now.
She attempted to step off the chair, but she found herself swaying. "Whoa…" the femme decided to stay put instead.
"Soundwave: arrived at Gladiator Pits six vorns ago," he suddenly said.
Darkstrike suddenly perked up, looking at him with full interest. It took a few nano kliks for him to continue.
"Cybertronians similar to myself were created from Allspark," Soundwave said. Darkstrike focused her optics on him, though her sight was already beginning to appear blurry.
"Our purpose was to mine energon on other planets for Cybertron's expansion. When we could not repair spacebridges, we were sent to Kaon to mine energon. Our constructors did not want us to call attention. Visors were worn at all times"
His response only filled her with more questions. She didn't want to overstep, but her curiosity was almost uncontainable.
Soundwave had been made for the purpose of space travel, something that hadn't been heard of in centuries. Another thing, he was created from the Well of Allspark instead of being conceived from a carrier and sire like her.
Darkstrike wondered what that must have felt like.
Truth be told, she couldn't say much about her creators. Once her natural skills had manifested, they had chosen to give her a set job from the time she was only a few vorns old. After jumping around a few times, she was given a secretary position. Darkstrike was put to work tirelessly.
"Well, even if your visor was to conceal your identity, it's now become your symbol. From the talk that I've heard, it intimidates other mechs." She took a few more sips, "I like it… I think it suits you."
He didn't respond, but she could tell the mood had eased considerably.
Looking down at her cube, she noticed over half of it was empty. She had drunk more than anticipated.
"You are over-consuming high grade," he warned.
"I'm—I'm not," Darkstrike defended. The slur in her voice was undeniable, but she continued. "I'm unwinding; you should, too. No more talk about high castes—tonight is for celebration. Come on, drink with me!" She pointed at the cube he had set aside.
Soundwave glanced at it but remained silent.
"Humor me this once. I've endured your tough mentorship and a battle with two mechs, all I'm asking is to share one drink," she persuaded.
"Celebration is unnecessary."
"That's true, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't partake in it. It's not every cycle you get offered Visco," Unwilling to let the subject go, Darkstrike continued,
"Join me. I know high grade isn't your preference, so you don't have to drink a lot."
He looked at the pink cube next to him.
"Plus, you've already removed your visor in front of me before, what's one last time?" Darkstrike asked, "If you change your mind, you can always erase my memory."
In the back of her mind, she definitely knew it was the Visco talking.
She raised the glass, her glazed optics staring up at him. Darkstrike smiled lopsidedly.
"Arrogant femme," he replied lowly.
She laughed loudly, leaning forward. His insult was humorous, whether he meant it playfully or not. She admitted that she was certainly cocky around him, especially with the high grade.
She continued cackling for a klik or so.
Suddenly she heard a clasping sound.
Darkstrike stopped and immediately looked at him.
In an act of boldness, Soundwave reached for the claps of his helmet. The realization hit her that he was actually going to remove it.
Her spark pounded against her collar.
She blinked several times, forcing her blurry optics to focus as hard as possible. Darkstrike attempted to be subtle, but she couldn't stop herself from leaning forward to him and shamelessly staring. Darkstrike squinted to see better. She cursed herself for drinking as much as she did.
He removed his visor slowly.
Soundwave's face was a light grey color. Heavy brows framed his bright, red optics. They were sharp, two lines running downward from them. He had white pupils, and she tensed up when he looked at her. His neutral expression appeared more on the serious side.
His gaze was intense, but she couldn't stop looking at him. Darkstrike couldn't help but find him alluring.
She blushed, her frame becoming warmer.
Soundwave set the mask down on the table and reached for his cube.
Darkstrike blinked several times, snapping out of her daze.
She grabbed her Visco cube and raised it, "Cheers!"
He tipped his glass subtly against hers. He brought the pink liquid to his lips.
Her spark soared at the fact that he had actually appeased her. Darkstrike couldn't believe she was looking at him like this. She had certainly fantasized what he could've looked like under his mask, especially after seeing his face orns ago.
The femme was entranced, excitement starting to take over. She took more sips, noting that she was almost finished with the energon.
Darkstrike attempted to stand up from her seat but forgot it was elevated. She slipped, grabbing the top of the table for support the last nano klik. Her movement made a loud noise.
Darkstrike cursed at herself as she dragged herself to her pedes.
"You are overcharged." His voice was clearer, sounding a bit louder and deeper. The resonant tone rang deep in her chassis causing an immediate burst of heat to spread throughout her body. Again, Darkstrike was mesmerized.
"I'm— I am fine," she waved it off, attempting to walk.
Using the table for support, Darkstrike took a few steps. She let go of the surface once she felt stabilized. For the first few steps, Darkstrike did fine. It wasn't until the room started spinning that she lost balance.
She tripped, falling forward onto Soundwave.
He caught her arms, holding her up.
Darkstrike groaned, closing her optics. The dizziness overwhelmed her vision.
"Suggestion: lie down. Recharge."
Just like the last time, I'm too overcharged to function…
"No, I'm fine." Darkstrike was determined for her night not to end with her passing out drunk.
However, before she could move, Soundwave reacted. He disregarded her response, placing a servo under her arm for support. They traveled across the room. She attempted to walk as best as she could but probably wouldn't have gotten far without Soundwave's help.
Darkstrike fell onto the berth, barely able to hold herself up. She turned to face him, now having a much closer view of his face.
Soundwave sat on the edge and observed her closely. His optics were fast, darting at every movement she made— every sound. Every glance looked calculated.
When his gaze locked onto hers, she couldn't identify the look he held. His expressions were extremely subtle.
Darkstrike moved closer, sitting up next to him.
The harsh glow of his optics illuminated his face. The color seemed to become more saturated. His irises were different shades of red and his pupils white. There was lots of detailed wiring in his optics.
His ridges furrowed slightly.
They stared at each other intensely, optics locked.
Darkstrike wanted to engrain this image in her processor forever. She wasn't sure when she'd ever see Soundwave like this again.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her servo inching closer to his.
"The dangers of curiosity," he replied.
"If it weren't for curiosity, we'd never explore past our limits."
She broke optic-contact to glance at his lips. Soundwave copied her action.
She felt her spark skip a beat.
Darkstrike had gotten dangerously close to him. Her pulse quickly elevated at the wild thoughts that circulated her mind. There was no denying that she wanted him.
Fueled by desire and drunk impulsivity, she decided to make her move.
Darkstrike closed the gap between them, leaning forward. Their lips met, pressing together softly.
She kissed him for a few moments.
Soundwave remained still the whole time. He didn't reciprocate or move, causing her to hesitate.
When she began to back away from him, it seemed to make him react.
Soundwave pressed forward, catching her lips once more. Darkstrike opened her mouth in surprise, but this only gave him a chance to further it.
For the first couple of nano-kliks, Darkstrike simply couldn't believe it. She felt as light as air, an exhilarating feeling filling her spark.
His tongue gently made its way into her mouth, tasting her lips, searching for her own tongue. Soundwave moved painstakingly slow, only further tantalizing her. She wanted more of him, but he took control of their pace, pushing her back whenever she got too eager.
It was as if he was savoring her, taking his time to explore her taste.
Darkstrike responded enthusiastically, moving her lips against his. They were soft and wet, giving minimal resistance between them. His taste was vinous, mixed with his own aroma and the Visco he had consumed.
Only after a klik or so did he deepen their kiss, becoming rougher with it.
His servo rose to her thigh. The femme inched closer to him.
Her entire body rippled with pleasure, heat blooming everywhere as she enjoyed Soundwave's attention on her.
Darkstrike moaned aloud when he sucked on her lip.
She uttered his name in a breathy tone, "Soundwave…"
Immediately he backed up. Darkstrike panted, feeling very out of breath. She looked up at him with half-lidded optics.
There seemed to be hesitation in his optics. It alarmed her considering he never wavered.
His ridges furrowed, and he looked away. She could visibly see the conflict on his face. It looked like he was in deep thought.
A dreadful feeling began overtaking her.
This hadn't been the first time he had put a stop to their foreplay. Darkstrike didn't understand what could've been stopping him, especially if he seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Soundwave?" she asked. Darkstrike attempted to reach for his servo, but he moved away, rejecting her gesture. It looked like he was going to stand up.
"Wait!" she implored, grabbing his wrist, "Wait!"
He looked at her, "Recharge."
"I-I will, but…" Darkstrike looked away. A million questions surged through her helm, but all she managed to muster up was, "Don't go."
Soundwave stared at her.
"We can stop, just stay."
He didn't reply, but he remained on the berth.
The tiredness of the cycle hit her all at once. Her joints were sore, and her body felt extremely heavy. It was probably best if she slept to regain some of her energy, anyway. After all, she had just won her fight a few joors ago.
Rolling over, Darkstrike forced her optics shut. She did her best to try to ignore the rejection and loneliness aching in her spark.
Although he didn't look at her for a while, Soundwave stayed next to her until she fell asleep.