Pit of Kaon
There were many significant cities and city-states on Cybertron; Iacon, the greatest city state to ever exist. There was a reason why it was often called the very capital of Cybertron itself. Vos, home to all the seekers, another city-state to be proud of. Tarn, while less populated than others, was one of the most fortified city-states.
All of those shared one thing in common — they harbored Cybertronians who were happy to live there. The same, however, could not be said for Kaon. The most detested city-state, yet rivaling Iacon in size, Kaon was the center of all the lower class of Cybertronians. Hardly anyone lived in Kaon by choice, and it was immensely difficult to leave it.
At least, that is the current propaganda.
Regardless, Kaon held great importance, because of all the natural materials and smelting centers that were necessary for the sake of development and building of infrastructure across the planet. The corrupted senate and anarchy on the streets made Kaon out to be the most dangerous place. While hardly anyone bore any semblance of respect, there was one thing that made Kaon's signature profit.
The Pit of Kaon. A colossal, circular arena that could host countless spectators. Gladiators who made their name known in the pits were those who truly ruled the society. The Champion of Kaon's pits, Megatronus, had cemented his role in the community, held in high regard. While he was at the very top, there were rising stars; and one of them was challenged by a new face.
Soundwave; a silent gladiator whose voice had yet to be heard across the Pit. With tinted visor over his faceplates, no one had ever truly seen the masked mech. Considered to be just a bit under Megatronus himself, Soundwave presented a threat to the gladiators, but those who aimed high could not afford to fear him.
Shadowblade; the most recent gladiator. New to the Pits, yet she had cleared her way through the mass of fighters, boldly daring the gladiator for a fight. After all, she wanted to take Megatronus' crown, the title of a Champion. And she knew that Soundwave was in her way.
The entire auditorium was buzzing with cheers and discussions, excitement running through everyone's bodies. Throughout the dense crowd, a small figure tried to make his way, narrowly dodging getting stomped on, pushed, or even slipping over the spilled energon. "Move it— delivery!"
In the mass of varying Cybertronians, there was a single mech, slim and black-colored, whose pedes were replaced with wheels, allowing him to perform his duty more appropriately than ever. Not many paid attention, and those who did would either move away or give him a supportive push, though it hardly ended well for him.
"Shortstop, you need to deliver two high-grades at—" The femme's voice was interrupted by a scowl. One task on top of another; the delivery man took them all, but at what price?
"Are you disabled? I cannot take orders right now, because I am still trying to reach Vector!" Shortstop was hoping to get out of the Pit as soon as possible. He detested the place, city-state, and his job altogether, but if there was anything worse than those three, it was being broken.
Shortstop cannot handle having no money.
There was a silence over his communication link, before hearing a mumble. "Order's been set. You will receive an address in a bit, and you are expected to reach it within ten minutes." With that, the call was over. The mech's single, crimson optic narrowed in annoyance. Blinded by the frustration, he didn't see a nearby mech servo carelessly swinging to the side.
In the split second, Shortstop noted the sudden shortened gap between his optic and the servo, and ducked down, sliding past the mech unharmed. Three medium-sized cubes of energon nearly slipped out from his grasp, but Shortstop made sure to dig his digits into it and press it close; he cannot afford to lose them.
There was no point in getting sidetracked. It had taken effort to avoid others, and Shortstop continued his traversing to the meeting point. He was supposed to meet a gladiator, which will, hopefully, result in him getting paid and leaving. Primus knew that Shortstop wasn't looking forward to visiting the Pit again.
"EVERYONE, GET READY!"
The announcer's voice echoed throughout the Pit.
"The gambling lines are closed now — I hope you have chosen wisely on who you are betting!"
A roar in excitement could not be silenced. The two gladiators had made their entrance; on the right, often favored, side, stood Soundwave. Recognized for silence and a visor over his faceplates, posing twenty-six feet in height and possessing remarkable strength, followed by skill and deception. Soundwave stood firm, unwavering.
From the left side, approached a femme who rivaled him in height; almost a foot taller, with confidence that challenged everyone. Her bright violet optics shined with interest. Her armor, a mix of white and deep purple, looked worn out, as if a quarter of her appearance doesn't match her. As if she took it from someone else. Shadowblade wasn't foreign to it.
"I don't like it when I don't know the faceplate of my opponent…but what does this place know about honor?"
Shadowblade doesn't expect an answer. And she doesn't get one. Something had to be done for her entertainment; it was easy to tell that everyone was rooting for Soundwave. Between a fresh new gladiator and someone who had made his name in this damned Pit, it would be only natural.
The announcer wasn't given time to officially open the fight, because Shadowblade rushed towards her opponent, sending a jab with her left servo. That alone made many gasp, while some others cheered right away — to begin the match earlier than the announcer hasn't been seen for a very long time. "What a loose cannon! She is striking already!"
Soundwave reacted to it right away by taking a step on the side, allowing her jab to pass by before hitting her with his right servo, his fist striking her helm right away. That caused the femme to be sent flying away, falling to her back first; but she was swift to climb back to her pedes.
And just as she tilted her helm up, Soundwave was already in front of her, punching her once more with a lot of force, not allowing her to register her surroundings. It pushed her backwards again, and before she could brace for the next strike, Soundwave hit her again, and again, a flurry of strikes aimed at her helm.
Shadowblade managed to lift her foreservos up, shielding herself from the continuous punches. Finding the right moment, Shadowblade suddenly opened her arms and grasped Soundwave's wrists, digging her digits into them. Soundwave tried to release himself from her hold, tugging and pulling his arms, but Shadowblade didn't let him.
Before she could say anything, two tendrils erupted from Soundwave's sides, striking her waist, making her temporarily weaken the hold, which was enough for Soundwave to drag his servos out and deliver a roundhouse kick to her torso, sending her further away from himself.
"What a menace! But who are we to suspect in him? The new gladiator is definitely struggling!" The announcer gripped his microphone tightly as he spoke, his words earning numerous jeers, the battle entertaining everyone present.
Shadowblade got to her pedes once more, this time inspecting Soundwave. She had seen him use tendrils in his fights, but she overestimated them, and paid the price for it. The femme coughed up energon and spat it to the side. Her frame didn't hurt as much, though she cannot say the same for her foreservos. Those stung.
It didn't wear the grin away from her lips. She needed just a little bit more. This time, Soundwave had headed for her, ready to continue punishing her courage, but Shadowblade took a different approach. The incoming punch was blocked with her grasp of his wrist once more, however, her digits had blades slide out on the side, cutting the thin frame of his.
"You think you know what's a dirty game, and cheating? In this barbaric city-state?"
His energon sept from the cuts she made, and her hold of his wrist tightened, twisting his entire servo to the uncomfortable angle. Soundwave tried to adjust and attack her again, but Shadowblade turned around and pulled him over her back, slamming Soundwave down on the ground, causing a rupture in the ground from the impact.
The satisfaction was evident on her faceplate, and she lifted her pede up in attempt to stomp him, aiming to break his visor — Soundwave rolled to the side and got back to his pedes, but Shadowblade reached out for the side of his neck cables, while keeping the bladed side of digits; slightly crouching down, she would slam his helm into the floor harshly, repeating the process twice.
That was enough to crack his visor, though it was far from broken. Soundwave's servo hurled towards hers to grab and twist it, but Shadowblade pulled him up and sent another hit into his helm. The public was slowly growing silent, everyone watching in anticipation and surprise. Soundwave's visor was slowly lining with more cracks.
Because everyone's attention was on the fight, Shortstop had an easier time swinging between others, finally reaching the gladiator's quarters. In front of him were massive doors that led to the room where Vector should be. 'All I have to do is to deliver this to the damned idiot, get my cash, and leave.'
Shortstop inched his fist to the doors, in what seemed like he was about to knock, before aggressively banging on the metal surface. "Delivery!" he called.
"Have you seen that!? Look at her, wrecking him like that!" voices could be heard from the other side. Loud steps approached, and the doors slid open.
In front of the courier was a robust, tall mech, easily reaching twenty-six feet, whose primary color was dark blue. His frame was scarred, a visible testament of many fights, each dent having its own story. Cyan optics sparkled at the sight of the energon cubes. "Finally." the gladiator chuckled, reaching out for the needed drink.
Hastily, Shortstop moved the cubes away. "That would be 18.9 shanix." He offered a small gadget to Vector, aiming to get paid first. This caused a smug grin to spread on the mech's lips, as he crouched down briefly, inspecting the smaller mech. Comparing the two of them would be like a scarplet and insecticon.
"You can tell that to your boss." Vector headed for the cubes, but Shortstop wheeled backwards. The single optic he had didn't shy from expressing the utmost anger brewing. From the inside, there was another voice that could be heard. Less demanding, but still taunting nonetheless.
"Stop being such a bully and pay the guy. You're missing out on the match." It was another mech's voice, and that made Vector roll his optics. He lifted his servo up to catch a card that was sent flying to him.
Swiping the card across the small device, Vector paid for the cubes, and when it listed the option for tip, he gave it a bit of a thought, before pressing the buttons. Shortstop silently watched, ready to turn around and leave, until he saw it.
Tip: 0.01 shanix.
Something in Shortstop immediately burned the bridges of patience. Looking up, lacking fear and intimidation in the face of the gladiator, the mech watched Vector's smug expression. "You fragging slag…" At those words, Vector's optic ridges furrowed and he leaned in, ready to threaten him — in that moment, Shortstop spat into his faceplates right away.
Utter shock was written over the gladiator. "Vector? Come on, what's taking you so long?" the mech called from behind, but he couldn't see the utter wrath that erupted. Vector tossed away the cubes, assuming the company would catch it.
"I will have your spark for that!" Before Shortstop even knew it, his wheels carried him away, proceeding to try and escape the enraged gladiator. However, Vector wasn't going to be taken for an easy mech, proceeding to hunt down the delivery mech. There was no feeling of regret in his actions, but Shortstop knew damn good he'd be done for if he was caught.
The match in the Pit was observed closely. Slamming his helm one last time against the ground, Shadowblade stomped her right pede on it. "Did it break yet? I will have it in pieces if I have to." She demanded to know, applying pressure in her pede. Soundwave attempted to lift himself up before being forced on the ground again.
The tendrils erupted out and wrapped around her left ankle, yanking the femme to himself and making her lose her balance. Soundwave caught her right ankle and tossed her away again, giving himself space to get to his pedes once more. Energon was leaking from his wrists, and his tinted visor held several cracks now.
There were mixed cheerings now; what was once homogenous and all for Soundwave, was lost, because many began cheering for the femme as well. Shadowblade picked herself up again, and to her surprise, Soundwave had already closed the gap between them; the first hit went into her torso, and was followed by another jab into her helm.
His elbow hit her shoulder. It was almost like he was energized, his attacks were precise and strong, and no matter how much Shadowblade tried to defend against them, it felt nigh impossible. She could feel the pulsing pain through her frame that would begin cracking where the hits would land.
Seeing the approaching tendril, Shadowblade suddenly moved her helm backwards and avoided the jab at her helm, before taking the blade attached to her pede and shoved it directly at the tendril, cutting it off. Energon leaked further from it, and it was enough of a shock for Soundwave, giving her an opening to strike him instead.
Tossing the blade away, Shadowblade returned the fire by pummeling his chassis and shoulder pads, delivering potent strikes. Soundwave attempted to block and parry some of them, and Shadowblade began stepping to the left, trying to guide him into turning around. She eyed the incoming tendril and eyed him again.
Keeping her servo near her knee, she would try to take a step away, luring Soundwave closer. The blade she had thrown away had lifted up, seemingly all on its own, before flying towards Shadowblade, cutting the last tendril from behind and sliding into Shadowblade's servo.
She grabbed it and crouched down to sweep his pedes, before following with another kick at his chassis, this time being the one who sent him away. Soundwave flew backwards, landing on his back, the energon trail following his now two bleeding tendrils. Shadowblade looked at the blade, and brought it close, giving a lick to the energon.
Silence befell the Pit, as everyone watched in shock. Soundwave would get back to his knees, trying to get back to his pedes. Shadowblade, who was in a semi crouched position, brushed away energon from the corners of her lips. "What a twist! What a turn! Who would have guessed that the new gladiator had it in her!" the announcer cheered.
Shadowblade ran over to Soundwave, to attack him again, her first jab missing; Soundwave stepped back, and then caught her incoming fist. He twisted her servo and shoved it away, before kicking her in the torso, closer to where the tanks would be. That made her spit out some energon.
A jab from the left hit the side of her faceplate, with a right jab following. One after another, Soundwave began striking her viciously fast again. "And Soundwave is getting back to his strikes! Is this enough to carry him to victory!?" The announcer asked while leaning over his table, indulging in the fight. One after another, a chain of jabs were sent into Shadowblade.
The femme struggled to bring back her control, kicking the mech's shin; not enough to make him fall, but just the right amount of time to bring in the counter attack with her own strikes. It was growing into a fight of determination and endurance now. The two had entered into a state of mindless attacking, just following sheer instinct.
The bestial fighting continued on, and it kept the crowd at the tips of their pedes. They couldn't simply believe that the two were on par, constantly striking at one another. Shadowblade resulted in attacking under strange angles in order to try and restrain Soundwave, using the blades on the sides of her digits to make more cuts in him.
The shorter mech would try to strike into her torso with his knee, but Shadowblade grasped his scarred neck cables and turned his back to her, pressing him over her back; yet she didn't throw him yet. She let him hang over her back, his own weight gravitating to the ground causing more pain in his frame.
Shadowblade reached for his servo and slid him to the ground, hastily mounting him. His servos were forced next to his sides, pinned together with her knees. Shadowblade spat energon to the side, her optics locked onto his visor. "Finally." she coughed out. Without waiting, she leaned her helm backwards before hitting his helm with her own with full force.
And the visor shattered.
Shadowblade could feel it. Some of the bits had cut her faceplate. But instead of looking up, Shadowblade placed her servos on the ground, covering his helm. What she had seen under herself was shocking. Before her was a pair of optics, a mix of purple and blue, with red hues. They were unusual at best. His faceplate dented, his corner of lips stained with energon.
Soundwave never looked away from her, his gaze piercing. It was hard to tell if he was shocked, angry, or indifferent? The pit roared immediately, everyone jumping to their pedes. The disbelief was evident; many were flabbergasted, unable to believe in the outcome. Shadowblade knew for a fact that he could still fight, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to keep up.
But at the same time, he would want to keep that face a secret, wouldn't he? Shadowblade sustained a whine from the wrecking pain. "I can … work with this now." She reached for her shoulder pad and tore it away. Cursing under her breath, Shadowblade placed the piece of armor over his faceplate, before rolling away from him and laying down on the ground.
Black debris from the visor was spread over the ground, but the crowd was taken aback at the sight of armor covering the silent mech's faceplate. "Unbelievable! Is it possible that we do not get to see Soundwave's faceplate!?" The announcer had nearly lost it. Shadowblade couldn't help but glance at Soundwave; would he stand up to finish her off?
Whether he could do it or not, she didn't know. But what she could see was that he didn't move either.
"A TIE! IT'S A TIE!"
The announcer called. The crowd kept shouting many words that were hard to comprehend. Some were thrilled by the match, some were disappointed. And some couldn't truly believe what they just witnessed. Shadowblade brought her digits to her face, feeling the pain set in. "Not even gonna say anything? Or was the faceplate more than enough?"
Shadowblade asked; she didn't need to turn around, she could tell he was staring at her. She gently hit his shoulder with her elbow. "My name is Shadowblade. Former mechanic. I could definitely fix your visor. As for what I've seen...it could be our secret." Soundwave said nothing for a while, before giving a curt nod.
That was more than enough for her. The group of medics had soon ran over to the battleground, raising up the wounded; Soundwave kept the armor over his faceplates, hiding it from the public that yearned to see what was hiding. The two left the battle arena, following the medics to the medibay.
The crowd remained tight-knitted. Shortstop didn't know for how long he could keep wheeling away from the angered gladiator. "What makes you think you could just spit on my faceplate like that?!" Vector hissed. His left servo turned into a blaster, and several shots were sent on Shortstop's way.
"I'll fragging do it again if I have to!" Shortstop cursed back. He didn't care anymore what happened, he was getting out. He doubted he could get fired from this job anyway, considering no one wanted it. He proceeded to dodge the blast shots, wheeling into one of the smaller crowds near the exit of the auditorium.
Pushing between mechs and femmes without rhyme or reason, the short mech tried to find a route that would give him leverage. But that was hardly the case, because Vector kept going after him. And it wasn't long until he found himself hitting a dead end. Shortstop cursed as he hit the locked doors of the exit.
A blast shot hit his knee, making the single-optic mech grit his dentas. It hurt. Turning around, he faced the taller mech, angered. "Nowhere to run?" Vector demanded. The blaster returned back into its regular form, ready to beat up the smaller mech. At that sudden motion, Shortstop attempted to blitz quickly past the gladiator.
That was met with an unfortunate response, as Vector grabbed him by his helm. He could feel the pulsating through his helm, as the gladiator would wave at him like a toy and throw him against the wall harshly. The smaller mech wasn't meant for this; that throw alone was more than enough to make getting up more difficult than it already is.
"Do you have anything to add?" Vector approached Shortstop, ready to execute him on the spot. The delivery mech watched him, energon escaping from his helm and sides. "Take your blaster and shove it up your afterburner." Shortstop hissed. Vector's fist flung towards the mech, only to suddenly halt.
That caught both of them by surprise, only to look at what stopped him. A femme, what appeared to be slim, and graced with only twenty-three feet. However, her appearance made Vector try to tug his servo away, but with no avail. Her frame was turquoise, with yellow schemes; unusual optics were the first thing one would catch; while vibrant blue, they carried a yellow ring.
"You're causing a disruption." The femme dug her digits into Vector's servo. Despite being smaller, she had seemingly held the situation under control. She pulled the mech down, her fist flying directly into his faceplate. She would proceed to push his helm down and hit it hard with her elbow, slamming his faceplate on the ground.
The mech's servo flung out to catch her, but she jumped to his back and transformed her servo into a blaster, shooting the back of his neck. Whether did it offline or not, she didn't know. And frankly, she didn't care. Her optics darted away from him, and landed on the injured mech, who was smaller than her. Something rare to see.
"Are you okay?" she asked; it brought suspicion to Shortstop, who didn't calm down from the rush of the entire ordeal. The femme recognized skepticism in him, and offered him her servo to take, if he wanted to.
"My name is Aileth. You must be the courier Shortstop?" The femme, presenting herself as Aileth, asked. At that point, Shortstop would gingerly take her servo and get up. His frame was shaking from the hit, but his optic showed no sign of fear. It was a combination of anger and disgust.
"Why would you know that?" Shortsop inquired, and Aileth began escorting him through the hallways of the arena. Everyone was still glued to the battle, giving them enough space to maneuver. He was saved by a thin thread sure, and by the femme. That made his optic squint, but he wasn't going to nitpick it.
"Because I ordered high-grade energon for me and my sparkmate. I was told you will deliver it, but you were gone for a bit. And it was easy to hear someone rushing." Aileth replied in a casual manner, not upset over the delivery issue. That made his shoulder pads sink in relief, though he was still not off the hook.
Where even was his small storage with energon cubes? He still has some there. "I'll need about ten minutes to fetch it and deliver it. 22.6 shanix." Aileth looked at him with a puzzled expression, and Shorstop feigned ignorance. He added ten shanixs to the bill, forcing a tip. He wasn't about to get none of it twice.
"Very well." Aileth offered her card to the mech, and his optic widened in surprise; she was willing to pay right away!? What a weird femme— but, it didn't matter. He's taking what he can. Shortstop brandished out the small gadget and scanned her card. It took exactly 22.6 shanix, and when the tip was in, Aileth tapped her chin.
'Come on, write a zero and let m—' Convinced that she wouldn't give him a tip, mech was praying for swift payment and leave. Much to his surprise, she inserted a solid tip. One that was worth all the damn work around this place. This was…an amazing profit. That had cured the pain in his frame, and fixed his mood right away.
"Here." Aileth offered him the number of the quarters she was staying in. "Deliver the high-grade here. And, don't be late this time." She winked at him, before heading off to her own ways. Shortstop spared one last look at the device, in disbelief.
Tip: 30 shanix.