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"This one bites," the Pit Handler warned, keeping Starscream at a distance.
Starscream, whose optics had already passed over the next gladiator in line, took a second look.
The mech was tall and boxey, painted plainly in silver and black. He had thick, strong limbs, great stomping pedes, and large, broad servos. He had a wide, thrice-broken nose and a frowning mouth. His jaw was masculine and square, and Starscream could tell it would take one of Pit of a punch to break it. Old damage and scars littered his thick, cumbersome plate armour.
He was helmeted, and beneath it's rim were dark, dangerous optics, glowering straight ahead, looking at nothing but seeing everything.
"I'll take him." Starscream decided.
The gladiator's face twitched, but remained expressionless. The Handler stumbled over their words, "This- I don't think he's what you're looking for."
"I can handle biting." Starscream said impatiently.
"He's violent," the Handler wrung their servos together, and did they hear themselves? Violent? Of course he was fragging violent. He was a pit brawler. An enslaved one, no less.
"Difficult to control," the Handler continued. "Very difficult. Only our most experienced handlers interact with him, and even then it’s with precautions.” The Handler nodded to the stasis cuffs locked around the gladiator’s wrists. As if Starscream hadn’t already noticed he was the only piece of merchandise wearing them.
He sniffed. “I enjoy a challenge.”
“He has a greater resistance to the fettering coding we installed.” The Handler insisted. “He won't make a good house-mech. Definitely not for first time owners."
"I'm not looking for a house-mech," Starscream said tiredly, withdrawing shanix from his subspace and thrusting it at the Handler. “This should more than suffice.”
The Handler still looked concerned (probably worried they’d be charged with mech-slaughter if their faulty product killed it’s incompetent owner) but was swayed by the shanix, much more than market value for a gladiator now the Autobot Security forces had shut down the fighting pits. They sent over the fettering master codes and transfer of ownership documentation. Starscream barely glanced at them. He wouldn’t be using the master codes. And he wouldn’t be taking ownership.
"What will you use him for?" The Handler asked, apprehensive.
"Protection," Starscream met the gladiator's optics and stepped over the neon yellow safety line drawn across floor, separating the free mecha from the owned property. The gladiator’s expression was stern and dark, but Starscream could see curiosity shining in those narrowed optics, and found he felt much the same.
"I need a warrior.” he elaborated, standing in the gladiator’s shadow, helm tipped back to keep his gaze. “Preferably, one who bites."