TFP - Every Bit Of Misery

6. Gladiators

"Ebony!" His voice was booming, and the femme rolled her optics in annoyance. Lately, her warlord had taken up a habit of bothering her for no reason at all. Quietly, she suspected it was his way to keep tabs on her activities and prevention of a possible mutiny. Primus knew he still didn't trust her. It had been months since her arrival, and she still wasn't allowed into battle. If she was allowed off Nemesis at all, it was only to do energon scouting.

"Yes, My Lord?" She answered, a bit of annoyance seeping into her tone as she studied the screens for likely energon hotspots.

He paused in the doorway, watching her for a few moments. Ebony supposed she was being tested. To see if she would jump, would change what she was doing, or show any signs of guilt.

In truth, it was something she would not know for quite some time.

The warlord was watching her, in awe. In hunger. In desire. He was not searching for deceit. Instead, he watched her, searching for some sign of the femme he'd nearly bonded with vorns ago. Searching for the femme that had dedicated herself to him and earned his spark as a gladiator, his femme counterpart.

"How is your research going?" He asked.

"Just fine," Ebony replied, a bit of annoyance sliding into her tone. "Do you mean to call me incompetent? Or perhaps just a traitor?"

Megatron shook his helm, then strode out of the room, refusing to give in to her bait. He would not be so easily tempted to fight with her again. She had caused him enough grief as of late.

"Petty femme," he muttered, stalking down the hall. She was a traitor, now wasn't she? She had no right to be offended of what he may or may not accuse her of. She had turned her back on him, and his skepticism of her return was well-placed.

~~~

Ebony feinted towards her opponent, a much larger mech, dodging as he brought down his hammer, aiming for her helm. As he struck, she swept under him, taking his momentum and using it as her blade swept up into his spark. It took only a moment for the light to fade from his optics, and she smirked at her victory as energon slid down her weapon.

"What a shame," she muttered as she pulled her weapon from his now-lifeless body, allowing his metal form to crash into the ground.

The crowd cheered as her victory was made clear, and Ebony raised her sword in pride. Once again, she'd overcome the size difference of her opponent and caused him to perish by her blade.

Although Ebony took pride in herself for always managing to come out on top, a small part of her sent a prayer to Primus that her opponent would find his way into the Well.

After just a few moments, Ebony was joined by two guards, both highly trained soldiers, taking her by the arms and leading her out of the arena through the only open gate beneath the stands.

Ebony knew better than to struggle against them. If she did, it would just end with her energon spilling out, and at least three weeks without competition.

Her cell wasn't too far away now, she could see it from here, and while she welcomed the time she had to relax, it was hardly 'home'.

It wasn't until they passed her cell that she objected. "What's going on?" She demanded, pulling against their grip just slightly. Still, the motion was enough that they drew their weapons.

"You're being relocated," one said before tugging on her arm again, and she began moving again, obviously reluctant.

"We're compressing the gladiators to save time and resources on your housing and care," the other told her, elaborating on their reasons. Ebony thought about it a moment, and supposed it made sense. The cells had become a tad empty lately. When the arena had opened, the cells were filled to the brim, some had even had to share quarters with up to two others.

As the matches went on every few days, their population had dwindled, and Ebony had slowly found herself isolated.

Not that she was complaining, of course. The silence was such a welcome reprieve from the shouting of crowds and the incessant whining of her cellmates.

Not everyone was suited to become a gladiator, but none of them had had a choice when they'd been brought here. Some were criminals, either petty or major, but most had been brought here because of their creator or sire being a criminal. It was proven that if your lineage had violent tendencies or criminals, you were more likely to become one.

The gladiators were a way of purging those traits from their society.

The winner was supposedly to earn their freedom back. Ebony didn't believe it for a second. They were purging the 'evil' they suspected to be in their society. No way in Pit would they allow one of them back onto the streets.

Pit. She vented softly at the expression. It was one that had been around for quite some time, but since the incorporation of the arena, it had taken on the name the Pits of Kaon. Ebony often heard the term muttered by guards or spectators. This place had certainly earned it's name. It had become their truest form of misery.

Ebony could hear the voices of others, and she assumed they were now approaching her new residence. So much for the silence she'd come to relish. As they came closer, Ebony ground her denta a bit at the thought of having to tolerate Cybertronians again outside of the ring.

"In you go," the first guard said, pushing her through the open door, sliding it shut before she could even turn around. With a huff, Ebony crossed her arms as it was locked, the guards then disappearing from view, their peds echoing through the hall as they went.

A silence had fallen over the nearby cellmates now, and Ebony quickly glanced around at those she could see. All she could see were mechs, and they watched her suspiciously.

"What?" She asked in an irritated tone. "You've never seen a femme that could steal your heart and rip it out in two nano-kliks?" Her optics glanced around at them, daring them to answer her.

"Not in my life cycle have I seen a femme like you."

Ebony rolled her optics before glancing around to find the source. It was the silver mech across from her. This mech had obviously been brought here because of his lineage. His build spoke of a long line of fighters, and likely criminals.

"What an epiphany for you, then," Ebony mused, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "It must be so startling."

The mech laughed, genuinely amused at her answer. "Primus must have collaborated with Unicron when he made you," he told her with a shake of his helm.

"You're a damn fool if you think Primus would've made me," she shot back, staring at the wall.

"Well aren't you a feisty one," he muttered. "I guess that would be why you're one of two femmes left here."

Ebony paused, looking over at him again. "Only two of us?"

He nodded to her. "You and some gray femme. The rest of you have . . . Well."

Shaking her helm in disbelief, Ebony vented softly. Femmes were hard enough to come by, and now only two were left in this damned 'competition'. Obviously there were at least half a dozen mechs still in it, and she suspected more were out of her sight. Sitting down on her cot, Ebony vented slowly. "This whole thing is a slagging mockery of justice," she muttered.

The only mech to speak to her gave a slow nod. "They're punishing us for things we haven't done. Who are they to say we are any less valuable than the rest of the population? Who are they to say we are any more guilty than the rest who have yet to commit crimes?"

Looking back up at the mech, she gave a small nod in agreement. Her suspicions were confirmed. He was not a criminal, merely the product of one or more creating a sparkling. "They don't care about us, only the illusion of safety."

"Some day, that will change," he murmured. "Some day, a new Prime will realize that we are as valuable as the rest, and we will have our retribution."

"Why should we wait for a new Prime?" Ebony asked. "We shouldn't have to wait for someone 'enlightened' enough to realize that this is wrong!"

The silver mech watched her for a moment, and she swore she saw something shift in his optics from beyond those metal bars.