The tyrant unseen is feared,
The tyrant seen is fought,
The tyrant slain is rusted.
"Chopper sent his henchmechs… I should have known."
Even odds definitely did not mean zero chance of injury, the red mech reflected, pressing the welding torch to his torn plating slightly harder than necessary. After the conclusion of the match, he alone had managed to stagger out of the arena—if only barely—and stumble to the repair bay. It was blissfully quiet and, more importantly, unoccupied. The sudden entrance of Chopper's guards unsettled him far more than he had allowed himself to admit. Though he had emerged victorious, he still needed a few moments of silence after the chaos of the six-mech brawl.
A familiar pattern of footsteps approached from the hall. The door slid open with a soft hiss, but the red mech barely turned from his repairs.
"What do you want?"
"I heard about the match," the green medic said. "Those new fighters—"
"I should have known it wasn't over yet," the red mech grumbled, slamming the welder down. "Sharpspike is strong, but nobody crosses Chopper and gets away with it."
"Chopper?" The green medic glanced up from the pile of tools he was organizing. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Don't you see? It's obvious." The red mech shook his helm, fists clenching and unclenching against the tabletop. "First he makes us think Sharpspike won. Then, right when I'm starting to do well, he sends his guardsmechs after me."
"No, no. You have it all wrong. I was just fixing one of those mechs. They're not after us."
"What do you mean, they're not—" Dim red optics widened in sudden realization. The red mech dragged himself to his pedes, ignoring the sting in his side or the fatigue coursing through every limb. "You, too, eh?"
"Hey, be careful. You'll injure yourself," the green medic yelped. Worried blue optics shone brightly as he reached forward to steady the wavering fighter, but the red mech shuffled backwards before the medic could grab him.
"What did he offer you? Energon? Your old job back?" Red optics narrowed, and the mech sent the fading dredges of his fuel to charge up his laser rifle. He limped for the door, keeping the medic within his sights all the while.
"Be reasonable. Chopper's also after my parts, remember? I'm not going back just to be scrapped."
"Why repair his guards, if not to help him?" The red mech kept a wary optic on the medic, though he was no longer heading for the door so much as he was leaning against it. His energy levels had been low ever since the conclusion of the match, and the alerts flashing in the corner of his vision reminded him that determination was not a long-term substitute for energon.
"It's my job," the green medic muttered, frowning at the wobbling mech. He slowly drew a few squares of sheet metal from subspace. "Let me help with your repairs. The new mechs are in no shape to fight you… and even if they were, you're in no shape to fight back."
The red mech's leg strut decided to give way at that moment. He slowly sank to the ground, clutching at the doorframe to ease his fall. Seething, he extended the damaged limb. "Fine."
The next match arrived too quickly for the red mech's liking. He limped into the arena, keeping the pretense of an injury even though the limb had been fully repaired. The opponent was a fighter whom the red mech had not met before, which either meant new cannon fodder or a recent demotion from a higher league. Whichever the case, a false weakness would cause the opponent to use a more predictable strategy.
"Blueservo takes the spotlight once again, only two orns after his last thrilling match," the announcer shouted. "Ooh, that leg looks painful. Does he still have what it takes to win?"
A cheer rose around the stadium.
"Now, let's hear it for an old fan favorite, recently returned from a three-vorn vacation in the Iacon Central Penitentiary…"
The opposite door slid open, and the opponent strutted out. To the red mech's alarm, long rotors rose above the newcomer's shoulders. Alarm seized him. Chopper.
What was Chopper doing in the Arena, of all places? Hadn't Sharpspike chased him away before?
The newcomer drew two long silver daggers that shimmered with the electromagnetic glow of built-in forcefields. The red mech charged his pulse rifle to maximum.
"Presenting Spiralsai," the announcer said. "Place your bets, folks!"
The red mech reset his optics, and the opponent's features resolved. Not Chopper. The red mech's wings sagged in relief. The two rotary frames had the same height and general build, but the resemblance stopped there. Spiralsai's paint was pitch black instead of silver, and six rotors stuck out from his back instead of four. His weapons were also clearly knives, not swords, although the red mech could imagine Chopper using knives with the same ease as this rotary mech.
"Aaaand… BEGIN!"
Spiralsai smirked, rotors spinning to life. Compressed air struck the red mech like a blaster shot, flinging him halfway across the arena before his processors registered the impact. The wind tunnel must have been a custom add-on; the red mech had never seen such an ability in the standard rotary frame designs, although his knowledge of that particular model was admittedly a bit outdated.
The red mech tumbled until automatic flight protocols came online. Wings and thrusters flared, compensating for the column of air still whistling past his plating. The energy drain was a setback, but the red mech far preferred that to an instant defeat by knockout. His fuel levels were high enough that he could afford a few thruster-assisted jumps.
The red mech fired twice the instant he had a clear shot, but Spiralsai managed to tank the first blast and block the second. Forcefield-enhanced blades easily deflected the plasma shot, leaving Spiralsai unharmed. The rotary mech then charged, laughing like a maniac—or so the red mech inferred, based on the way that Spiralsai's jaw flapped periodically as he ran. It was either that, or his jaw hinges had malfunctioned. The red mech calmly walked to meet his opponent, playing up a nonexistent limp.
Predictably, Spiralsai lunged for the red mech's leg the instant they were within striking range. A knife would have chopped the leg in two if the red mech were truly wounded, but he had been watching for this attack. He quickly sidestepped and turned, taking full advantage of the top two rotors conveniently exposed during Spiralsai's lunge.
The red mech neatly amputated one rotor with a laser-cutter before Spiralsai realized that the leg had been a ploy. A second rotor snapped between his claws when the furious Spiralsai whirled about, flinging the red mech across the arena. He ended up several paces away, the cracked tip of a rotor between his claws, as the rotor's owner stomped forward. Thinking quickly, the red mech shifted his grip to the unbroken square end of the rotor and swung it experimentally.
When the two mechs clashed again, the red mech realized that the extra reach afforded by the broken rotor was extremely useful. The shard was just a bit longer than Spiralsai's knives, and it kept Spiralsai far away from anything vital; none of the red mech's other weapons would have been nearly as helpful in close combat. Every slash cut farther than the red mech could hope to reach with claws or his own blade, and—most importantly—fighting with a broken piece of metal cost only the energy needed to swing it around.
The red mech slashed and ducked, but Spiralsai had the advantage of two reinforced blades and experience using them. As the fight dragged on, the red mech was hard pressed to keep up with Spiralsai's neverending barrage of stabs. It was tempting to fire up his thrusters and leap to a distance where his rifle could be effective, but Spiralsai had already proven capable of handling a few shots.
Spiralsai's rhythm faltered for a moment, and the red mech seized the chance to slash his opponent's neck cables. He struck out, but Spiralsai's knife slashed through his leg in the next moment; this time, it was he who had fallen for the feint. The red mech's knee buckled, and Spiralsai drove him back with a punch that he barely blocked.
Step by step, the red mech lost ground due to his weakened stance. In a match of strength against strength, Spiralsai was the stronger of the two fighters. The red mech's wings collided with the arena wall, and he tossed the broken rotor aside, instead grabbing Spiralsai's wrists before the daggers could slash down. Reinforced armor shredded under his stronger right servo, baring the rotary mech's delicate internal cables and energon lines. Wires came loose in a shower of sparks, and the dagger dropped from limp digits.
Twisting free with unexpected strength, Spiralsai stabbed one dagger through a red elbow joint. The red mech thrashed, kicking Spiralsai back two steps, but attack was impossible with his left arm still pinned to the arena wall. No amount of one-handed tugging loosened the dagger, and the red mech was not foolish enough to turn his back on Spiralsai for the sake of better leverage.
"Ooh, nasty move. Is this the end for Blueservo?" the announcer cried. Spiralsai grinned, raising the other dagger in a slow, dramatic arc. His gloating expression reminded the red mech of Chopper's greedy faceplates.
Accept defeat by a Chopper look-alike who was not even half as powerful as the real Chopper? Inconceivable. The red mech kicked upward. When his pede reached the level of Spiralsai's helm, flight thrusters activated, tearing his shoulder free of the pinned arm. The resulting boost sent the red mech skidding across the surface of the arena wall in an uncontrolled rush of speed. He flipped around just in time to land upright. Then, clutching the energon-streaked stump of his left shoulder, he took stock of the situation.
Spiralsai had collapsed on his side, clutching shattered optics and a melted faceplate. He flailed around blindly, but his daggers had dropped just out of reach. By his helm, the red mech's severed arm sparked, still pinned to the wall.
"An amazing comeback from Blueservo!" The announcer boomed. The red mech hesitated, awaiting the victory proclamation, but the announcer seemed to want the fight to continue. "Can Spiralsai reclaim victory before it's too late?"
Spiralsai gave up on finding the daggers. He rolled upright, optics black and offline. Reaching behind himself, he wrenched off one of the unbroken rotors to create a makeshift sword—just like Chopper's sword, the red mech noted. The thought of Chopper defeated was immensely satisfying. Taking advantage of his opponent's blindness, the red mech edged sideways until he had a clear shot.
Five plasma pulses to the spinal column later, Spiralsai fell flat, processor no longer able to communicate with his limbs. The red mech warily retrieved his severed arm from besides Spiralsai, keeping his pulse rifle trained on the opponent. Caution was more conducive to survival than impatience.
"Once again, the victor is Blueservo!" The crowd erupted, though the enthusiasm was muffled by disappointment over lost bets. "Though, right now, it's more like Oneservo," the announcer added.
The crowd roared in approval, picking up the new chant.
"Oneservo! Oneservo!"
The red mech limped out of the ring, severed arm in his trademark blue servo.
Once again, the red mech found himself in the medic's debt.
"All set. You should be fine after some fuel." The medic turned to the nearest energon dispenser. Upon receiving the medic's identifier code, it poured a full cube. The medic smiled at the red mech's surprise and pushed it into his patient's servos. "Take this. You need it more than I."
The red mech snatched the cube, sparing the medic a curt nod of appreciation, and took two small sips. When the medic looked away, he swapped it for an empty cube from subspace. Extra energon would be useful in the upcoming eliminations he had planned. He stood up, feeling the faintest trickle of new strength rush through his frame.
"What, are you going to terminate the new mechs now?"
"Not yet. I've worked for Chopper long enough to know that offlining a few guards won't change anything. He'll hunt us for as long as our parts can turn him a profit." Dim optics flared a brilliant red, and he slowly turned his helm toward the medic. "There's only one permanent solution. Destroy the threat at its source."