Post by Plexo on Feb 8, 2015 12:14:24 GMT
“No weapons allowed.” A guard told Plexo sternly, as he blocked the mech’s path. Plexo eyed his sword, which was strapped to his back. His weapon was the one thing that kept him alive on Cybertron, yet they wanted him to give it up. He was entering a gladiator fight in Kaon, which was one of the only cities which seemed to accept mechs like him. The irony was how the guard prevented weapons from entering into a place in a city which was practically touch-sky full of weapons. Plexo reached into his subspace, and then pulled out some additional energon cubits for the mech. The guard grunted, accepted the extra cash, and let Plexo go on ahead. Plexo entered the great gates of the gladiator theater, a vast amount of seats encircling a large arena. Thousands upon thousands of mechs and femmes had already entered, the crowd within as vast as the space the foundation took up. Plexo had never been a mech of money, in fact he was quite poor. Plexo had simply used his unique ability to create ice to make a solid block of energon looking substance, thus giving the guard additional ‘money’. Kaon was a greedy city, and the sight of credits or excess money made anyone’s wallet squirm. Treachery was something Plexo had learned to accept in order to survive on this cursed world, and though he didn’t like being treacherous, he believed that those who were treacherous in the first place perhaps deserved to receive what they dealt out. Plexo took a seat, his optics coldly regarding the arena across and below from him, watching the fight. He was a few rows down from the front, and spectating was easy. A green and dark red femme shivered to his right, and her optics darted around the air in confusion. Plexo literally generated a cold air, and though it was small, those near to him would feel more and more frigid as he stayed. He would be given a small radius soon, and perhaps a few disgusted or confused looks from the crowd he was in. For a city so full of misfits, it is strange that the occupants of this region do not seem to accept difference themselves. Plexo mused, keeping his optics locked on the arena. He still kept a wary sense about him, making sure no one was trying to maneuver too closely to him. Ever since he had returned to Cybertron, he had regretted every moment of it. It was corrupt, foul, and noisy. The government, if it could be called such, was practically setting itself up for war. The economy was terrible as well. Cybertron was a horrible planet, and Plexo had grown to loath it to his core after the year and a half he had spent on it. He had traveled everywhere, and found only corruption, to the point that it could cause a war. In so many places, all it would take was the right push. Normally a teenager wouldn’t be thinking upon these things, especially one that was merely sixteen vorns. He was reasonably young, and most mechs at his age would be either working, or filling their hot-heads with little thoughts and pleasantries. Plexo had at first been mistaken for a higher class racer, since he had a simple hover car alternate mode, designed to rocket through the terrain and smoothly navigate the streets. Plexo was in fact, not a racer. He was familiar with speed, as he was with many things. He was something that most Cybertronians weren’t at this stage in Cybertron’s generation; Plexo was a warrior. Most would take one look at the worn white and golden paint of the mech, and laugh their heads off. Plexo was interrupted from his thoughts when another mech passed through his line of vision, and actually sat down next to Plexo, as if the cold air that was around him wasn’t. Plexo shifted his gaze to take a look at him, and he nodded back at Plexo with something that Plexo rarely saw. Friendliness. Plexo’s cold layer was not easily melted away though. He had learned long before he had arrived on Cybertron trusting was not to be a strength of his. Plexo glared over at the mech beside him, and the mech shrugged before holding out his servo for it to be shaken.
“Name’s Streek.” He said cheerfully, placing his servo in the air, waiting for it to be shaken. Plexo just stared at the mech. His main color was a blue so dark it was almost mistakable for black. For a secondary color, Streek had a very bright sky energized blue. Plexo didn’t bother shaking the hand, coldly regarding the mech as he did everyone. He looked to be the same age as Plexo, roughly speaking. Streek shrugged, and then retracted the servo, and just after he did so, the announcer of the fight spoke up.
“OUTLAWS AND TROUBLEMAKERS OF KAON, AND ALL OF YOU SCUM-BUCKETS THAT SMUGGLED YOUR WAY IN, TODAY I WELCOME YOU TO THE ARENA!”
The loud voice of the announcer rang through the audience, who gave a loud cheer in response. Plexo stayed quiet, letting everyone else make the noise. Streek seemed to tone himself down upon catching Plexo’s glance.
“TODAY’S COMPETITORS ARE NONE OTHER THEN THE MIGHTY ONTHORSIS!”
From the west side of the area, a pathway opened and out stepped a large, thirty five foot figure. He was a blood red and dark grey from head to toe, and upon his chest both colors were painted in a strange, mythical pattern on his chest. The hefty warrior thumped his way into the center of the field, the crowd cheering him on as he unlatched a broadsword from his back, the blade one-edged, thick and insanely sharp. It was also barbed on the stem, making it quite the deadly looking weapon. The warrior grinned broadly at the audience, and then turned his helm to facr the gate across from him, which began to open up as well.
“…AND THE CHALLENGER: VERTEX!”
Plexo saw the passageway open, and a small, eighteen foot femme walked through, carrying a shield and an axe. Plexo noted how this fight seemed to resolve around weaponry designed for a more brutal outcome, and it wasn’t exactly an honorable fight. As a result, Plexo sat back, feeling more relaxed. In his training, ‘honorable fight’ was another word for foolery. What made Plexo blink in response to his surroundings was how Streek reacted. The mech sat right up, and had widened his optics as he gawked at the challenger. Plexo tilted his helm to the left, before Streek seemed to snap out of his daze.
“That’s my sister!” He exclaimed, causing Plexo furrow his brow. It was Kaon custom, to join in a fight as a gladiator was it not? Or was the one sitting beside him not of Kaon origin? Plexo just listened, as the crowd rustled restlessly, some clearly jabbing fingers at the small femme jeeringly, and others clinging to the back of their seats, rooting for the underdog already. Plexo himself just decided to watch the fight. The mech had no reason to intervene just yet.
“I need to do something quick--!” Streek said, arising from his seat, only for Plexo to firmly push him back down. Plexo gave the mech a glance. Give the femme a chance. Plexo thought. Until this ‘Vertex’ proved to be weak, Plexo would make no action to help her. Plexo also wished for Streek to think the same. Somehow, either by registering Plexo’s cold and strict look, or by catching Plexo’s not so silent drift, Streek sat back down reluctantly. The fight thus began, Onthorsis swinging his broadsword down at the femme, who dodged by sidestepping the blade as she brought her axe head up, and then she swung for the exposed side of the bent down warrior, and her weapon dug into his armor. At first, the femme seemed to smirk, but Onthorsis swung the broadside of his blade back, slamming it into her at the close distance, and she was not given the time to wrench her axe free from his thick, and unforgiving side. The femme was thrown back, and skidded on the metal ground before she steadied herself. Remarkably, Onthorsis still had the axe in his side, but he acted as if he did not notice it. Plexo furrowed his optic ridges at the sight, and as he scrolled through the possibilities why the mech did not seem to react to pain, someone from behind him snickered to another.
“These stupid newbies. They always forget Onthorsis had his pain receptors removed as a sparkling…she doesn’t stand a chance.” More snickering. Streek shifted uncomfortably yet again, but Plexo kept a firm hold on the mech, signaling him to stay put. Vertex arose to her feet, only possessing a shield as Onthorsis lumbered his way over to her. Her smirk had disappeared by now, and she was forced to duck another attack from Onthorsis, before she surged forward, jumping at the mech as to grab the handle of her axe, plant her feet in his side, and then yank the weapon out of him as she jumped backwards. The maneuver would have worked, if the Vertex had not lodged the axe head too far into the side of the mech, and if the mech hadn’t predicted her move. He had known that she would go for the sword, and gave a quick swipe with the end of his blade, to stab her in the rib-cage with the hilt. Again, the femme was sent flying, without her axe. Her shield was thrown off her arm due to the might behind Onthorsis’ moves, and Vertex spat a gob of energon before she arose to her feet. Plexo took a gander at the femme, inspecting her as closely as he could from where she was. The fight was already half way done and it had only begun. Entering the gladiator pits may have not been your calling, girl. Plexo mentally scolded her. She had been a fool indeed. It was then that Streek could no longer handle the situation. He leaped out of the audience, drawing a dagger from his subspace, landed with a thud in the arena, and dashed off to his sister, stepping before her protectively. Plexo’s optics blazed at the movement. Fool! Plexo thought, another reason he had held Streek back was that interference would cause others to join as well, and since more of the audience seemed to hold a liking for Onthorsis over Vertex, more would surely join the battle field. Foolery. It was all foolery. Plexo scowled, his prediction did not unfold yet, but Onthorsis seemed to grin, and hold one of his servos up to the audience.
“These two are both mine.” Onthorsis rumbled, “They both know the risks, and they both will now receive the consequence for their actions.”
No one joined, but Plexo knew that when they did, it would be more than just one. Since a dagger verses a broadsword and obviously an experienced gladiator both sounded like bad odds to Plexo, he continued to hold his scowl. No one was going to protect them, and it was clear to him that they were not to win. Yet he sat where he was. It had been their choice to enter the battle grounds, not his. They had done nothing for him, so he would do nothing for them. Onthorsis swung his broadsword at the two, forcing Streek to grab his sister and dive. Both landed fairly well, and got back to their feet. Streek clung to his dagger fiercely, Vertex dashing over to grab her shield. Onthorsis had them all outwitted however. He took his own turn lunging, this time aiming for Vertex, who had her back turned to him. He collided with her, crashing into her as she cried with his shoulder. Streek widened his optics as Vertexs’ limp form lay on the ground, and Onthorsis arose from his position. As Onthorsis did so, Streek took the moment to rush in with his dagger, at a short distance, he pounced on Onthorsises helm, wrapping one arm around the mech’s neck, and stabbed for the mech’s eye. Onthorsis made no reaction as his sight was partially destroyed, but simply swung his arm to grab Streek by the chest with one huge servo. Onthorsis jerked Streek free, bringing the much smaller mech down to the ground, bashing him once, twice, thrice before flinging him towards the wall. Streek slumped to the floor, knocked out. Onthorsis lugged his broadsword into his grip, placed the tip on Vertexes neck, but before raising his blade, turned to the audience. Cheers sounded, and signals were made to give no mercy to the new femme. Plexo gave no sign himself, staying stone still. Vertex’s undoing was her own fault. Onthorsis brought his blade up with both servos clenched around the handle, and waited a second,
“They die today!” Onthorsis shouted, bringing his broadsword down to decapitate Vertex. The blow never came though, and the audience fell silent as there was a flash of white, and Onthorsis’ sword was directed elsewhere, and now before the femme now stood another mech. Plexo had made his move.
No. Not today. Plexo thought, and his breath rasped through his mouth guard, sending a wisp of cold air from it as he spoke. Plexo deflected the blade of the bigger mech with his own, which Plexo now held out before him.
“How many fools lay within this arena?” Onthorsis asked, clearly amused by how many had stepped into the arena. Plexo just gave him a sparkless glower, as he narrowed his optics. Onthorsis swung his blade down at Plexo, swinging for him at a horizontal angle. Plexo ducked, evading the hit. Onthorsis brought his blade around, planning to swing it back around and cleave through Plexo’s body. Plexo nimbly sliced for Onthorsis’s own exposed chest, leaving a long cut from his lower chest to his abdomen, all the while keeping at a low stance. Onthorsis’s sword came around to hit Plexo, but this time Onthorsis’s opponent made the prediction. Plexo remained in a low stance so that he might retreat by bouncing backwards before Onthorsis made his strike, and as the sharp edges of the broadsword swooped in a blur for Plexo’s waist, Plexo was able to perform a quick back-flip, avoiding another attack from Onthorsis. Plexo kept his optics on Onthorsis, the mech did not have any reaction to his injury, as Plexo had understood from the other onlookers, moments ago when he was part of the audience. As Onthorsis created a new rhythm for swinging his sword as well as coming for Plexo, the white mech made mincing steps forward, and then launched his form for Onthorsis’s arm, making another rapid, long slice for the mech’s arm. In mid jump, Plexo performed the laceration by flipping, letting his blade make a swift yet strong attack as he himself curled over, letting the blade sweep with him in a vertical line as his legs remained tucked in. Again, Plexo landed smoothly on the other side of Onthorsis, who grumbled a curse.
“Hold still.” He spat, and Plexo did. He faced the warrior, straightening his body, though he still his blade ready. Onthorsis came forth as he had previously, readying his sword to make a second attempt at severing Plexo. Plexo watched the oncoming mech, and knew by how the mech was acting, that his strategy to bring the veteran down was working thus far. Plexo’s foe stabbed at him this time, Plexo side stepped at the last second, letting the broadside of the sword almost graze his chest. As the blade kept coming, Plexo performed a fluid step to the side once more, only this time he attacked Onthorsis again with his sidestep, using the same momentum he had used to dodge to carry his blade, and dig the weapon into the brute’s arm. Plexo retracted his weapon, but this time Onthorsis shouldered Plexo, hitting Plexo right in the mouth guard, causing the smaller mech to stumble back. Onthorsis took another step forward, swinging his blade for Plexo yet another time, but this time Plexo rolled in the direction of the incoming jagged weapon, and came up in a kneeling posture right under Onthorsis’ arms, and then cut into the giant mech’s arms once more with his sword. Onthorsis lowered his blade, and then looked to it in confusion as he did so. Plexo brought back his blade, and backed away from the warrior. Onthorsis then tried to lift his blade, but couldn’t. He gritted his dentals, and strained as he tried harder and harder to raise his sword to no avail. Exhaust smoked from his mouth and his ventilation systems, as he put more and more effort into raising his blade. Plexo just watched with silent amusement. Onthorsis had been unable to feel pain, and thus in his experience as a gladiator, he had grown to over estimate his abilities. He had been unable to recognize when he had been too damaged. In this case, both his arms had been cut and eviscerated badly. Precious amounts of energon had at first leaked, then seeped from each wound, and he had run out of strength reserves. Now the ‘mighty’ Onthorsis struggled to even lift his blade, and he could barely remain standing. The energon he had in his systems had provided him with just enough energy to stab, and then that had been it. The weight of Onthorsis and the broadsword, combined with his heavy armor was too much for him, and in a confused tiredness, the gladiator fell on his knees, and clanged to the ground. The audience gasped as Plexo calmly stepped over the huffing and bleeding form of the mech, and hefted his blade. Plexo never waited for the ‘yes’ sign from the audience, as he brought his sword down on Onthorsis’ neck, never giving any sign of mercy. Onthorsis’ form stopped venting, and he laid still as his helm rolled off into the ground. Plexo then spoke in a loud, and clear voice as he addressed the stunned audience, and answered Onthorsis’ rude sarcastic question from earlier;
“There were three fools in here. Now there are two.”