@Angel_Food_Cake_08 was my original handle but, like my 222 account, things got a bit tricky. My new phone didn't connect so I'm starting over here. 🙃😫 Enjoy.
A/N: Mature themes are present in this chapter. You've been warned. Enjoy.
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•Venatic: fond of or living by hunting.
From the shining streets of uptown Detroit to the abandoned slums I go, on the prowl for that sickly-colored, bounty hunter-looking glitch who threatened Sari's safety by name & frightened poor BB into a sleepless night. I'll make this as quick as possible with a minuscule scuffle, if manageable.
Bee said each of these clones is based on a separate fragment of myself; that In & of itself is a big problem for countless reasons. These things could range from that easily frightened, cowardly sparkling trying to survive on Kaon's streets to that gladiatrix femme who slew many a foe mercilessly out of sheer anger & a powerful desire to be respected, which was pretty much fruitless for a little while as gladiatrixes were always viewed as an arena's cheerleaders & nothing more.
Looking back on it, maybe ripping that heckler's arm off, slapping him around with it until he was unconscious, then hurling the severed limb at the cackling needlers was a bit much at that time, but in my defense, I was having one of those rather elongated days where everything wasn't going well at all. Good times in the arena, good times. That mishap actually garnered a lot of attention from femmes outside of the ring who came to watch us fight & left when the mechs started with their routines. I managed to stop one of them & ask why they didn't stay to ogle the gladiators instead of the gladiatrixes & what she said amazed me in my earlier youth.
"They think you fine, fighting femmes as cheerleaders, optic Goodies, carnal entertainment to be ignored in favor of snacks, waste relief, & small talk when you've all most likely trained just as hard, if not harder than the mechs did &/or do. Let's see how they like it."
That particular femme happened to be Skye's supervisor who wanted to see for herself how I was doing so far in life. I always wondered why I kept receiving care packages from anonymous medical staff & faculty made of what I could only describe as advanced first aid kits & a few options of Goodie from small, thick disks to orbs in baggies to plain little rods & bite-sized cubes. I always shared the confectionaries with the femmes present while storing the medical supplies into curtain-veiled shelves I carved out for storing scrolls of knowledge & other academic items that had come into my possession one way or the other. I suppose I always played medic & maternal figure. Even back then.
My reminiscing processor's focus shifted ahead of me as the fenced-off favela Bee told me about rested. His spark-wrenching look that plagued his faceplates was still unquietly fresh in my optics.
'Don't worry BB, I'll take care of this glitch myself.' I thought as I jumped the fence in my Bipedal form then landed audibly on the unmaintained pavement of the abandoned area, following the tarnished street signs to the subway. Nobody was around, organic or mechanic, to hear my landing. I've gotten a little rusty on my fence hoping. Luckily for me, there were holes in the subway's roof, so I merely had to drop into the depreciated system's enclosure & roam around until I noticed some shadows stretching over a distant wall followed by voices gossiping amongst themselves.
