The Night Within
By Starath
Chapter 1
Blitzwing found the clacking of computer keys therapeutic when it went on long enough. Despite the mundane nature of the tasks, his job allowed him to listen to the ceaseless rhythm for megacycles without pause. He worked through a massive stack of data files every day, inputting hundreds of names, numbers and information that, in truth, meant nothing to him. He paid attention to the medical data only long enough to type it, too busy listening to the prattle of his keyboard. He was the best archivist at Altihex's Central Medical Facility, but if someone asked for a particular file, he struggled to find it. His typing skills were superb. His memory had never been particularly good.
He didn't really fit in at work anyway. Unlike his coworkers, who were usually slim, car-sized Transformers, he looked like a soldier. His wings made it awkward to sit in the office chair and the spikes on his shoulder guards sometimes got in the way. Still, he did the best he could. His monocle hardly left the computer screen in front of him while he typed. Not that it really mattered, anyway, because by large he was left alone. It was true he did his best while working. That didn't mean he belonged there.
Getting Blitzwing's attention while he was at work was like poking a tank drone with a thumbtack and expecting it to notice. Astrotrain often wondered how Blitzwing could miss him, since his color scheme was bright white, purple and red. His wingspan made it difficult to get through certain doors. To top it off, he was one of the largest 'bots around. By now he didn't bother waiting for his best friend to realize when he was standing in front of his desk. Instead, Astrotrain found new ways to announce his presence. It was only a matter of time before Blitzwing noticed what was sitting on top of the next data file.
Right on cue, Blitzwing reached to the top of the stack. His hand bumped Astrotrain's nose.
"BOO!"
"Gah!" Blitzwing nearly fell out of his chair. "Vot in de— Astrotrain!"
The mech grinned, optic-level with him. "How ya doin', Blitzy?"
He rolled his good optic and yanked the next file out from under Astrotrain's chin. "I am fine, thank you."
"You look a little unsettled."
"Do I? I vonder vy," he started typing up the contents of the file, then stopped, sighing. "You broke my concentration."
"You're welcome. You ready for tomorrow night?"
"Yes, yes, you haff only been reminding me of it for de past three weeks."
Astrotrain leaned over and flapped a pair of passes in his face. Blitzwing tried to grab them and missed. They disappeared back into his subspace pocket. "Bought em just for me and you. Premium slots to a big surprise."
"Vich, of course, I can vait to see tomorrow since you von't tell me vot it is."
"If I did, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, huh? Just be ready to ship off to Kaon in the morning."
"Yes, I know. How is dot new courier business of yours coming?" Blitzwing sat back from the computer terminal and stretched a little.
Astrotrain shrugged. "It's coming. Seems like I was meant to cart stuff around and deliver it. Sometimes people too, for a good price. My true calling is a bus boy. Go figure." He frowned and motioned to the Decepticon symbol proudly engraved on his right wing. "You still haven't chosen, have you?"
Blitzwing's optic narrowed and he folded his arms across his chest to cover the empty place painted in black. "I told you my opinion on dot matter," he said, his voice dangerously soft.
"Just sayin'. Any word if they found that missing medic from this facility?"
"No, I am afraid not. Like de news says, de Omicron Police haff been called in to investigate. No one knows vere he vent."
"Slag. That's too bad."
"Yah. He's a goot mech. I hate to think of his fate vit' dis war goink on." Blitzwing pulled his chair back against his desk. "I must get this done if I am to take de day off tomorrow, Astrotrain. I'll see you and Octane in a few megacycles."
He nodded and patted the stack of data files. "Of course. I'll catch you later." He waved.
The clacking of computer keys answered him.
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
Astrotrain, Blitzwing and Octane landed in Kaon the next day, just as the distant sun cast its last rays of the solarcycle. The three fliers laughed and talked among themselves like they always had. They had known each other for so long none of them counted the stellarcycles anymore.
But things had changed. Blitzwing noticed with distaste that Octane now wore the Decepticon symbol too. His awkward grey, blue and white friend walked with his chest sticking out a little too far. It was hard to believe this was a mech who jumped at his own shadow sometimes. So, Blitzwing thought, trailing behind them, my friends have chosen sides and I still haff not. They ask, but they do not understand vy I still refuse. This is not my var. I haff had plenty fighting already. Octane walks like he owns vun of de moons of Cybertron now. I do not see vy ve must choose. Either side's cause fulfills nothing.
Preoccupied by such thoughts, he didn't realize where they were headed. Other Transformers, mostly Decepticons save for a few brave Autobots and Neutrals, milled around in a growing horde. As they walked closer to a massive domed building the crowd organized into lines. He stopped in his tracks, his spark freezing in mid-pulse. His two friends carried on without him. A yellow mech twice his size bumped into him.
"Hey, don't hold up traffic!"
Blitzwing blinked several times before the words registered. He quickly moved aside. "My apologies."
The bruiser shoved past him with a hand that looked like a shovel. "Puny piston-pusher."
He didn't bother with a reply, his mind reeling. Eventually Astrotrain and Octane realized he wasn't following them anymore. They found him retreating from the middle of the crowd to the sidewalk. Octane caught up first and snagged his shoulder.
"Blitzwing, wait! What's the matter?"
"I should not be here."
"Sure you are. This is Train's surprise for you. Did you forget your pass?"
"Hey, what's up you two?" asked Astrotrain, glancing at a nearby chronometer. "If we don't hurry we're going to be late to the registry table."
"I think Blitzy's having a meltdown."
"Eh?"
He took a step back and stumbled over the curb, now shaking his head, optics glued to the building in front of him. The LCD screen along the top flashed with the words Welcome to the Grand Arena 276th Tournament!
"This?" He managed to say. "This is your surprise for me? De Grand Arena?"
Astrotrain made a sound of annoyance. "Oh come on. You still can't be skittish about this place."
"Are ve fighters or spectators?"
He hesitated. "Well, if we don't hurry—"
"Are ve fighters or spectators?" Blitzwing's voice cracked on the last word.
Octane patted his shoulder. "I'm watching. You two get to have the fun."
"VOT?"
Several heads turned at his startled cry. He backed up again. "No, no, I cannot. There is a reason I do not engage in such things anymore. You two vere not here. You don't understand."
Astrotrain moved to his side and clapped him across the back in a half-hug, leading him to the Grand Arena Dome, speaking quietly under the murmur of the crowd. "Blitzy, it's okay. That was stellarcycles ago. Stellarcycles. This is just a little fun. You can't let me go in there all by myself, can you? Besides, the winner gets fifty thousand credits, the biggest prize offered. We both could use some cash, hmm?"
"I don't care about de money. This is about my sani—"
Octane barked a laugh. "Don't care about the money? I don't believe that for a cycle. C'mon Blitzy, there's no harm in trying. Or did you forget how to fight, sitting in front of that archive terminal too long?"
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
Blitzwing filled out the last line of the entry form and handed it to the cheerful young mech sitting behind the registry table. He ignored the whispers and poorly disguised stares in his direction. Out of sight, his fist clenched up tight until the inner supports creaked. On the other side of the wall, eager shouts for spilled vital fluids leaked through every crack. He willed his face straight, but his jaw threatened to lock up. The young mech glanced over the entry form, the glowing green letters reflecting off his faceplate. His pink optics widened and he stared up at Blitzwing.
"Are you really—"
"Yes," he interrupted, "I am."
"Wow! Good to see you here again sir! Oh, er, do you have your pass and entry fee?"
Astrotrain reached over Blitzwing's head with the pass and a bundle of Decepticon credits in his hand. "Here you go, kid. Don't annoy the champ any more than you have to."
"Great!" The pass was stamped and given back while the money disappeared into a heavily-armored box. "I can't wait to see you fight, Blitzwing! Good luck!"
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
Every spectator seat had been claimed in one way or another, fifteen cycles before the Tournament's start. The air vibrated with the constant dull roar of voices. On the arena floor, a loose group of over fifty fighters milled around stretching, sharpening weapons and shouting among themselves to be heard above the crowd. The usual assortment was there: The lone ninja, the stoic assassin, the bruisers used to winning with sheer mass, the femme or two out to prove something, and the drunk siblings set to have a good time even though it would most likely end in a severe headache and body injuries. Only a few of these would even make it to the second round. At the back near the corner, Astrotrain elbowed Blitzwing in the side.
"Some surprise, huh?"
Blitzwing brushed him off and stepped out of reach. "Indeed."
"Are you going to be mad at me all night?"
"I vas thinking for about de next century."
"Fine. This is for your own good. You can take it out on me in the ring."
"…You don't understand, Astrotrain. I hate this place in de deepest sense of de vord."
"Maybe you should take time to explain it to me for once?"
"No. It is too late for dot now." Blitzwing flexed his hands and watched the knuckles relax and tighten. Sickened, he scanned the crowd. He spotted Octane on the far right wall of the Arena. He didn't bother to return the wave Octane gave him. A familiar, burning urge to fight swelled in the back of his mind. Taking a slow intake of breath, he pushed it back and exhaled, mentally ordering his pounding spark to slow its pace.
A top deck encircled the dome's perimeter, set well above the spectator seats. Front and center, almost directly above where Octane was sitting, a lit room with a floor-to-ceiling window had a perfect view of the arena below. A grey and red Seeker stood inside, looking down on everything with his hands clasped behind his back. The mech's face was twisted in a sneer, as if he considered every being below too disgusting to be found under his boots.
"Hey Blitzy? You gunna do a weapons check?"
He glanced at Astrotrain before focusing on the VIP box again. "I am fine. Who is dot?"
"Who? Oh," Astrotrain ratcheted his rifle and tucked it under his wings. "That's Starscream. Never seen him in person before. I guess they really are here today."
Blitzwing started to ask who he meant when two more mechs appeared next to Starscream, both almost twice his size. The first fearsome silhouette was easy to recognize: Megatron. The shape of his deadly fusion cannon stuck out when he folded his arms. The second one, a huge bulky robot with one red optic, was not immediately recognizable. Starscream said a few words to them, sweeping a hand back and forth. Megatron nodded and tilted his head to examine the crowd. His optics fell on the corner where the Tournament's warriors were gathered. Blitzwing couldn't help watching until Megatron's gaze locked on him. For a brief instant the look lingered, then moved on. A shiver crept through Blitzwing's armor. He shook himself. Something felt like it was trying to chew a hole in his fuel tank. Calm yourself. Dot vas not vot you think it vas!
Moments later the Grand Arena lights dimmed. A holographic image flickered on over the main fighting ring. The sight of Megatron's stern face silenced the crowd immediately.
"Greetings, all of you, to the 276th Grand Arena Tournament!"
He allowed a rumble of cheers and shouts to roll through the room. "It is my pleasure to be here with you at this exciting event. Like you I look forward to seeing what tonight's competitors are capable of. And as you know, the prize is fifty thousand credits to the last warrior standing. Tonight we have fifty-six fighters eager to try their luck. However, there will be a slight change in routine this time."
Questioning voices peppered the silence. Blitzwing and the other would-be combatants stiffened when Megatron's gaze fell on them.
"Due to the war and related time restraints, there will be an elimination phase before the fighting begins."
Angry cries of "what?" popped up around him. Unlike his opponents, Blitzwing's chest swelled with anticipation.
"Only sixteen of you will compete today," continued Megatron.
His hope soared. Maybe there is a vay out of this after all! Ha!
"You each received a pass to get here, warriors. Recall your numbers now. If you hear yours, you stay."
"That's not fair!" grumbled Astrotrain.
Megatron looked off-screen and inclined his head. A scratchy, irritating voice began reading six-digit numbers. Blitzwing crossed his fingers and barely contained his glee as each number— not his —was read. Astrotrain shouted happily as his number came up. The annoying voice, Starscream's, neared the end of the list. Blitzwing blinked his optics off, hoping, hoping…
"And finally, number 682003."
The familiar burning within Blitzwing's mind leapt into his throat.
"Slag!" he said through gritted teeth, and watched everyone but fifteen others leave the arena floor.
--
To be continued…
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Comments are welcome, thanks for reading!