Just a Chat

Eggshell wasn’t sure why he was there. The fact of the matter was that he was late. He was supposed to be checking in for transport at the moment, but lately he had found himself… distracted? Granted, it was perplexing, but almost welcome in that it was a change of pace. Eggshell had realized more and more that he hadn’t felt anything but bored in… in a long time. He hadn’t been paying attention to how much of it passed. 

If he acknowledged the darkest parts of his mind, he might admit that the only times he felt anything beyond endless apathy was when he got into fights with his coworkers. When he could feel them hurt from his blows. When he watched gladiator fights and imagined how he would take the opponent down. When he saw the body gored on the ground and thought about how it would feel to be the one to take lives away. The absolute power he’d hold over the weaker, their very fate at his whim. How he would be feared. 

But Eggshell didn’t acknowledge those parts of his mind, because they served no purpose. They would not aid his living situation whatsoever. So he coped.

As he leaned against the railing, staring blankly at the some-distant walls of the building ahead of him, wallowing, another body moved to lean nearby, and he let it catch his attention away. A large mech (still shorter than him, though that was a given,)  had settled a couple paces next to him, and Eggshell thought he recognized him. His paint was a handsome crimson-and-black with some distinct decals. Yes, Eggshell was sure he knew him. A gladiator, one he’d seen in the ring before.

He wondered what a grounder from Kaon was doing there. He glanced behind them, noting a couple more grounders watching him closely. Guards?

As he hadn’t been very subtle about his attention, the other mech turned to meet his eyes-- admittedly, it made him jump a little. He raised an eyebrow at him, and Eggshell determined he was probably expected to say something, now.

“You’re not from Vos,” was the first thing that came to mind. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he snarked in return. Eggshell felt the ghost of a smirk tug at his lips. Not that he was ever wary about minding the feelings of grounders, but he was interested in holding this conversation for once, so it would be unfortunate if his lack of filter brought an end to it. Perhaps he should work on that. 

“Big fan of the architecture, is all,” the gladiator-- Deadbolt, he remembered-- was saying. “Lots’a this stuff looks like it would’ve been grand to work on.”

Eggshell found that rather ridiculous. What sort of bot would willingly take up such a menial, tedious job? Well, not that his was any better. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter. His turbines trilled slowly at the thread of frustration underlying that thought. 

“Couldn’t imagine why you’d think that,” he said, condescending lilt to his tone barely-veiled, though it didn’t seem Deadbolt noticed. If he did, he didn’t react. 

“Not the construction bot type?” He asked, instead, with a dry smirk. “Why, I’d say it’d suit a big femme like you, but maybe it’s not want you’d do, if you had the choice?”

“Not. A femme.” Eggshell ground out. Deadbolt shrugged.

“Point stands.”

Eggshell narrowed his optics at him, the urge to lash out overwhelming. He forced it down, though his processor was wracked with dark fury. He’d had enough incidents with violent outbursts to deal with recently. Didn’t need another. 

Though, as he let reason ebb emotion, it occurred to him that the other mech might have been trying to hint at something. His brow furrowed.

“What point is that, exactly?” He edged. The other gave him a sidelong glance.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, continuing to stare up at the building before them. Eggshell pursed his lips. 

A loaded silence fell. Perhaps it only bothered Eggshell.

“...You’re a gladiator, right?” He finally broke it. Deadbolt turned to him again, glimmer of pride more subdued than he would have expected. 

“That’s true! I’m Deadbolt, you know me?”

Eggshell nodded slowly.

“That’s a good sign! I must be performing well to be known all the way over here, hm?” He grinned, and Eggshell had difficulty telling if he was being teasing or genuine. 

“Perhaps,” he replied, not willing to give the other the satisfaction. There was something enjoyable about disappointing people. “Either way, even a poor-performing gladiator is preferable to a well-performing transporter. At least the weak gladiator doesn’t have to consider his worthlessness for very long.”

This earned him a look from Deadbolt.

“Have you tried joining yourself? A big bot like you would probably put up a good fight, you know.”

“Hmn,” Eggshell hummed. “A fight is a two-way thing.”

“So what, you’d rather just beat on someone helpless? Sounds kinda boring.” Deadbolt muttered. Eggshell tilted his helm at him, considering that yes, he had a point. 

“Not interested in dying anytime soon, unfortunately,” he lied. The other huffed and shook his head, wry smile gracing his features. 

“A damn shame, then! Anyways, I think my detail here is getting antsy,” he tilted his head “so I better not bore them. If we’re to meet again, I’d like it to be in the arena.” He flashed a grin full of danger, and Eggshell felt himself taken off-guard by the flash of fascination that ran through his spark. 

He watched the gladiator saunter away, gazing awed at the skyscrapers unabashedly as he went, and was surprised to feel himself tempted. He continued to watch until the other mech was out of view, and a few moments after, thinking. Finally, he settled back in his vacant position and grumbled. Deadbolt would be an interesting opponent. Damn. He really was tempted.