The Night Within
By Starath
Chapter 2
Part 1
A gust of wind whipped across the rooftops. Blackarachnia held on to her webbing strand as it swayed violently and stabilized it with a spider's skill. She dropped down, loosening more webbing, and started across the roof to connect it to the first two threads. Blitzwing had gone silent amid his story-telling. He stared into the darkness ahead, seeing things only he could visualize. She paused in her web-spinning.
"I don't understand something," she said.
He blinked and shook his head as if awakening. "Yes?"
"Why didn't you want to be there anyway? Had you been to the Grand Arena before?"
"It is as I—"
"You forgot de history lesson!" interrupted Random.
Blitzwing's mouth snapped shut. "Oh. You're right." He looked to her. "My apologies. I got too ahead of myself."
Blackarachnia pulled a new web strand across in front of him and focused on him with organic eyes. "Well?"
He studied the gravel again and shifted his weight. "Yes. I had been to de Grand Arena before. I vas de champion fighter for two stellarcycles in a row."
"Wow," she said, somewhat impressed.
"Then, I quit."
"Why?"
He reached down and scooped up some gravel. He watched it run through his fingers, unable to say it.
"If you don't, I VILL!" threatened Hothead.
Blitzwing swallowed. "I couldn't remember de fights."
She scratched her head with a foreleg. "How could you not remember? You were there, weren't you? How did you fight? How did you know if you won?"
"Oh, I KNEW," he spat, and threw the rest of the gravel in the air, over the rooftop's edge. "I vas there. I knew because vot I do remember is… my opponents… vere not left standing."
"I don't get it."
"You're supposed to be de one who makes sense!" said Random, cackling.
"In de beginning…" he said slowly, mentally telling Random to shut up at the same time, "In de beginning I fought and fought vell. I vas young, made my mistakes, learned from them, and became better. Vinning my first tournament vas one of de best moments in my life. But afterwards…. I noticed I couldn't remember parts of my matches. Small instances first, until bigger and bigger segments vere missing. Once, all I remember vas making de final blow dot killed my opponent. I had never killed before. Then I couldn't even remember what happened after de fights. During my second stellarcycle in de Arena they started calling me a berserker, and I didn't even know vy."
While he paused, Hothead asked, "You vant me to tell this part?"
No, I can do it. Steeling himself, he continued, "Ven I won my second tournament I vas feared by everyone. People avoided me and accused me of "becoming someone else". By now whole weeks went by dot I couldn't remember, only de fighting. I remember absolutely loving de fighting. De war vas especially bad then, so Grand Arena matches vere postponed. I could think clearly immediately afterwards even though I craved more fighting. And then… I saw a recording of my last match ven I won my second champion title."
When the silence went on too long, Blackarachnia prompted him. "And?"
" 'Horrified' is not a strong enough vord."
"So you quit?"
"Yes."
"Hmm." She shrugged and went back to building her spider web.
"Disappearing vas easy once I moved far enough from Kaon not to be tempted anymore. I took up dot archiving job and found some peace."
"What's it like to be in the Arena?"
The question caught him off-guard. He rubbed his chin. "It is vere I truly felt alive. It vasn't about beating my opponent or de cheering of de crowd. Every match, I had to prove my worth. But ven I couldn't remember anything, only to find something—"
"SomeONE!" corrected Hothead loudly.
"…Someone took over while I vas fighting, dere vas no reason to continue."
"The angry face?"
"I HAFF a name," the personality grumbled.
"Yes. Except I did not understand vot he vos yet, as this vas before I had my… faces. I did not understand anything until I found myself standing in de Arena again…"
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
After Megatron finished his speech, the floodlights came on over the arena platform. Four enormous monitors slid down from the ceiling and flickered on, the screens allowing the furthest spectator to see the arena clearly. The crowd buzzed with anticipation over the coming matches: Who would step under the floodlights first?
The rest of the Grand Arena was kept dim, save for one spotlight that shined on an entrance between two sections of crowd seating. Eager optics watched the lit floor intently. Suddenly the spotlight jerked to life when an orange and brown Junkion came racing out in vehicle mode. The little motorcycle transformed and did a flip. He landed with practiced expertise and waved. A microphone appeared in his hand.
"Hello hello hello Kaaaaaaaaoooooon!" he cried, and the masses returned his greeting. He jumped up onto the arena platform. "How are you all toniiiiight?"
The answering roar almost knocked him over, and he made a show of regaining balance. Laughter ran rampant.
"Well, we certainly have a healthy crowd tonight! To any of you n00bs out there, this is Rusty Bucket, the Voice of the Arena with you now, here for ringside commentary, and welcome to the Grand Arena! To you old fans and fanatics, welcome back!"
Rusty waited for the surge of shouting and clapping to die down before continuing. He paced back and forth while addressing the assembly. "We have quite the show in store for this time around! In fact, rumor has it an old champ has returned to the Arena! Oooo," he said, and the crowd echoed him obediently. "We shall soon see who that is, and we'll see the current favorite for winning it all! The question now, Kaon, are you ready for some mayhem?"
"YES!"
"I say, are you ready for some action?"
"YES!"
"I gotta ask again, ARE YOU READY for some down-and-dirty, skidplate-kicking, loser-stomping, to-the-death combat?"
It hardly seemed possible, but the crowd screamed back even louder, "YES!"
"Aaaalright!" Rusty threw his arms up and said what he was known for in the galaxy over: "Let's get ready to RUUUUUUUUUMMMMBLLLLLE!"
Blitzwing's optic twitched as his audios briefly overloaded due to the answering howl of bloodthirsty spectators. Beside him, Astrotrain joined in and laughed. Blitzwing tucked his arms tight against his chest. Goot to know Rusty hasn't lost his touch… A smile briefly crossed his face.
Rusty magically hushed the Grand Arena Dome with a sweep of his hand. "If you would point your peepers to the screens, let's see who'll start us out tonight!"
Two boxes appeared on each monitor. Profile shots of the night's contenders whizzed through like the symbols on a slot machine. The pictures on the left started to slow until an image slid to a halt and locked into place. The stern face of a young black and silver mech stared at them all. Rusty read off the name.
"Quickshadow, come on dooooooooown!"
The chosen fighter left the group and elegantly stepped onto the arena platform with minimal effort. The floodlights highlighted his silver chrome that left streaks in the air when he moved. His alternate mode was evidently some kind of car, sleek and fast. He took position in the corner furthest from Rusty, his expression intensely focused despite the racket.
"Quickshadow is a self-proclaimed assassin, so grab his number if you want somebody scrapped after the tournament! A new fighter this stellarcycle, he came through clean in all ten preliminary rounds leading to this event! Here's hoping your luck lasts, kid! Let's see who your challenger is!"
The profile pictures flew by until they slowed to an excruciating pace— and stopped on Blitzwing's image. The crowd quieted instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch. Blitzwing stared at the monitor and suddenly had trouble swallowing. The picture was old but still recognizable, almost. Did I really haff such a crazy look in my optics?
Rusty gaped too long like everyone else until he found his voice.
"Blitzwing, come on dooooooown!"
Reluctantly he left the dim safety of the arena floor and stepped up onto the platform. All around him the crowd revived itself in a frenzy of cheers and screaming. He kept his head down to avoid the glare of the floodlights… and looking at any of them.
"Looks like the rumors are true, folks! He's been gone for 135 stellarcycles, disappearing after claiming the championship two tournaments in a row! Now featured in a new paintjob, a fetching purple, tan and black, welcome back, Blitzwing the Berserker!"
A chill rattled through his shoulders when the booming cries filled the Grand Arena Dome to capacity. I should not be here! He balled his fists to stop his hands from shaking. The scorching fever in the farthest point of his mind touched the mental barriers he had erected to contain it. It began to melt through them. And yet, here I am…
For the first time he started hearing individual words in the unintelligent noise. His name. They were cheering his name! He was the champ, once, long ago, and they remembered! Why shouldn't he act like one? His vision suddenly sharpened. He lifted his head and smiled. Rusty ended the quiet moment of inspiration.
"Right, fighters, to your corners!"
Blitzwing moved to the corner diagonal from Quickshadow. The young mech had already drawn his weapons, a pair of katars with energy blades. Blitzwing spread his feet and hunched down into fighting position.
"Rules are as stated: The first one out of bounds of this platform or unable to fight is the loser. Any combat method is allowed so long as it doesn't blow up this building. Oh, and make it good and messy!"
The crowd heartily agreed.
"Are you ready?" Rusty looked to Quickshadow, who nodded. "Are you ready?" He asked Blitzwing.
He nodded.
Rusty quickly got out from between them and hopped down off the arena platform.
"Let's burn it to the ground! BEGIN!"
At first, Quickshadow and Blitzwing measured each other, hardly moving a single muscle cable. Blitzwing eyed the energy-bladed katars warily. Quickshadow had one for each hand. The blades extended well beyond his hands, but they weren't long enough to be swords. He knew from experience they were a short-range weapons meant to pierce armor with a strong enough punch. By the way Quickshadow gripped them they were obviously his weapons of choice. Around them, the crowd urged them on to battle. Blitzwing didn't move, and neither did Quickshadow. Goot, he does not allow them to pressure him into fighting— so I VILL!
Twin cannons snapped into place on Blitzwing's shoulders. He fired two pulses of ice that struck the platform just where Quickshadow had been standing. Ice spread out and coated the surface. Vere did he— a whistle of air against metal brought Blitzwing's attention upward. Quickshadow was mere feet over his head with katars outstretched.
"Oh man, folks, did you see him move?" cried Rusty.
The first katar scraped a thin line down Blitzwing's back. He twisted to get between them and landed a solid punch under Quickshadow's chin. He flew backwards and flipped in mid-air to right himself before hitting the floor. Before the young mech could get his bearings, Blitzwing surged forward and began a barrage of strikes.
"Uh oh, what's he going to do now—"
Quickshadow blocked them using his energy blades like shields. He took a swipe from the left shoulder to right hip. It left him open to a blow in the torso. He backed up to give himself room, but Blitzwing stayed too close. Desperation flickering across his features, Quickshadow kicked up and struck him across the face.
"—and Quickshadow pulls free after a well-place kick! Amazing how he can—"
Blitzwing shook himself to steady his vision.
"Here he comes again!"
He spun in a tight circle to get Quickshadow in sight. Sensors blared and directed his gaze above.
"Scrap!"
He stumbled aside just before the katars could cleave him helmet to torso. He regained footing and heard Quickshadow touch ground. Again he came with blades extended.
This kid is fast! Thought Blitzwing, and a second thought followed, loud and aggressive: Then I must be FASTER!
Ducking, he felt the breeze of the katars passing over his head. He snatched Quickshadow's forearms and threw himself backwards, pulling Quickshadow over his head. Blitzwing slammed him onto the floor, hard.
"Ow, that's GOTTA hurt!"
Both fighters leapt to their feet in moments, trading blows. Quickshadow sliced at Blitzwing but didn't land any hits. Blitzwing kept him out of reach with a fury of kicks. Quickshadow dodged one and slipped on the inside. His right katar struck Blitzwing's cheek, tearing it open. Mech fluid bubbled out instantly. Blitzwing's good optic widened before it narrowed in rage. The burning fever in his mind ripped free of any boundaries. Hot anger spilled loose and curtained his vision in red.
"HOW DARE YOU CUT ME!"
Grabbing Quickshadow's elbow, he jerked him forward and brought up his knee. The shattering crash of metal on metal was audible above the crowd's cheering. Silver mech fluid gurgled up into Quickshadow's throat. Grinding his teeth together, Blitzwing pulled back his clenched fist and prepared to drive it through the assassin's chestplate. NO ONE harms ME! I vill CRUSH HIM!
"Oh, is this the end for Quickshadow?" cried Rusty.
Blitzwing stopped in mid-swing, his mentality suddenly clear. Vot am I doing? He dropped his opponent, who fell in a choking heap. Blitzwing stepped back, breathing hard, and gripped his head. The echoes of a terrible voice reverberated in his consciousness. Who said dot? Vas it me? He wiped at the wound on his cheek and stared at his reflection mirrored in the silver. Sudden movement passed over the droplet's surface.
"You should have finished me when you had the chance, Berserker!"
Blitzwing leaned back. His cannons fired off two shots of ice.
"Maybe you should chill!"
Quickshadow tried to block the blasts. Ice overtook his arm up to the shoulder. The second pellet coated his left leg.
"Argh! No!"
He fell to the floor. A katar skidded across the tile. He attempted to push himself up but the weight of ice made it impossible to balance. Under blazing arena floodlights, Blitzwing's shadow cooled the air like a brush of death.
"I'm not finished!" Quickshadow protested, and clawed the ground for support.
"Oh, but you are."
Blitzwing's cannons fired again. When he turned away to face the crowd, Quickshadow stared up helplessly, completely encased in ice.
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
"… Rusty made his standard show he always does vile counting to ten, but it vas unnecessary. I had won."
"Wow. Then what? The other matches?"
"They vent similarly, except it became harder and harder to control myself. Astrotrain vas eliminated by his second opponent. I made it to de final round and fought against de crowd favorite, Wrencher. He vas ironically de same brute who ran into me earlier dot day, as I mentioned. Had I not been there, he surely would haff dominated de tournament."
"Did you win against him too?"
"I did. Barely. De burning in my mind… it…. I can't tell you how I won, I only know vot it looked like afterwards. Ven I thought it vas over, I vas released from the destructive nature vit'in me. All I vanted to do then was go home and return to vork vere I could hear de endless typing."
"But you didn't. Why?"
A pause. "I forgot dere is always de final match."
--
To be continued…