Chapter Text
Voxxi’s grip didn’t relent as he practically frog marched Polycephaly away from the rest of the Speakerman group, the large TV man snarling and spitting static as he tried to dig his feet in to halt their progress. Thankfully, his mass and strength was just enough to give him the advantage with this. Voxxi hissed back as the tendrils tried to push him off, and he tightened his grip, digging his fingers into the fabric and plating of Polycephaly’s arm. The subwoofers weren’t doing anything but popping random noises, but the two upper subscreens were pushing back to try and pinpoint the source of a loud blat coming from somewhere behind them.
His visual perception began to fuzz at the edges and the plating underneath his palm began to chill, indicating Polycephaly was building up to a teleport. “Don’t you fucking do it, Poly. You’ll teleport both of us, and I’ll beat the circuits out of you when we get there!” Another blat. Voxxi paused just long enough to look back, “Say that again, you bag of shit, and I won’t just let him go. I’ll fucking help him!”
“What’d they say?!” He pushed at him with his tendrils again.
“Nothing important.” Voxxi growled, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the air. “You. Hallway. Now!”
The moment they were in one of the corridors leading off from the main training room, Voxxi let go just long enough to push the other large unit against the wall, this time bracing against his front with one of his forearms. He wasn’t letting go until he knew for a fact the other wasn’t going to teleport right back into the room swinging. “You need to calm down before you do something you’ll regret. Should I even bother asking or do you want to get out of here?”
“No, I don’t want to get out of here. I want to go back in there and fuck a Speaker or two up!” His tendrils spread out wide, making him seem even bigger than he already was. Thankfully for Voxxi, he was used to this intimidation tactic…and had become immune to it.
Since Polycephaly hadn’t made any progress on his own with the new subwoofer set up, he’d been assigned a trainer at the Speakerman HQ to help him with the skills he needed to pick up. A few trainers, each giving up as quickly as the last. Some of the others had taken this an an opportunity to belittle him. This wasn’t the first time Voxxi found himself breaking up an impending fight (a strange change from when he’d first met the large TV man). Thing was, Polycephaly wasn’t exactly starting them, either. Some of the other Speakermen were still running their vocal processors like they were going out of style.
This was just the first time Voxxi’s own temper had begun to flare as well. On days like this, he was glad Polycephaly didn’t understand Soundkind. At the same time, he wished he did, because if he had to listen to any more of it, he was going to deck a bastard before Polycephaly even had the chance to swing first.
“What the hell does this mean?” Polycephaly echoed the blat sound they’d both heard.
Visibly cringing, Voxxi whirred. “That…wasn’t directed at you. That one was for me. I don’t want to explain it right now.”
Shifting with a visible discomfort, Polycepahly forced himself to relax a little, dropping his tendrils back down to where he normally carried them. “Have you always taken shit like this or just since you started hanging out with me?”
Oh, it’d definitely become worse since he’d started hanging around the TV, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. The moment he felt Polycephaly begin to relax, he released the pressure he’d been putting on his chest, patting him on the shoulder a couple of times. “Don’t worry about it.” He deflected. “I think I’ve got an idea brewing. We’ll need to stop by the armory first.”
As Voxxi tried to explain in a way the other large could understand, Polycephaly was essentially being asked to utilize a new weapon he couldn’t physically see, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out the problem. Speakermen were literally built to see sound; TV men weren’t. As such, they needed Polycephaly to “see” what he was trying to do. If that meant putting on training wheels, so to speak, then they were going to do it.
Installing a slot to hold the butt end of a knife into the two subwoofers was easy enough; Voxxi had helped to repair his comrades as well as his own many times in the field. Finding a decent enough location away from prying optics…not so much. They eventually found a spot in some woods not too far off, using a few of the larger trees as targets; Voxxi explained that, instead of trying to direct an attack he couldn’t see, he could focus on the knife. Wherever that little bugger was going, the sound would obviously be heading that way, too.
“We'll get you used to the knife so you can visualize one when you don't have one. Then, bam!"
Needless to say, they spent more time hunting down errant blades in the beginning than retrieving them from the large oak they’d chosen as their main target.
Time wore on until, eventually, the two settled to rest of a fallen log. Polycephaly held Voxxi’s preferred bowie-styled knife in his hands while the large Speakerman at his side seemingly gazed out at nothing, the sunlight filtering through the leaves above to cast a warm glow on the forest floor. There would be the sound of birds chirping, had they not made so much noise earlier and scattered them all. Instead, all Polycephaly himself could hear was the occasional insect buzzing, and the soft music Voxxi had started playing over his sound system.
At first he simply ran his fingers along the flat of the blade, feeling the indention of the slight fuller near the top, then fitted his palm around the hilt, hand pressing comfortably up against the cross guard.
“I never see you throwing knives out in the field.” He noted.
Voxxi held out his hand to take the knife back, giving it a quickly twirl before readjusting his grip to stand and face the tree they had been practicing on. “Never been one much for it. Besides, I can throw this one just fine, if I wanted to.”.
The tree bore the brunt of their practice session, with bark blasted and ripped off in several places from both the sound's blunt damage and the blades themselves embedding into the wood. Bringing his shoulder back, his elbow even level with his head, he snapped his arm forward, letting go of the knife as his hand started on the downward arc. The blade sunk deep into the wood of the trunk. With even strides, he made his way over to it, wiggling it a little up and down to pull it out.
“Most don’t like it. It’s bulky and forward heavy.”
“Why do you like it?”
“Suits me. Makes me stand out in a crowd.” The Speakerman buzzed lightly, as if he didn't have a red heading casing which did that very thing anyway. “Why do you like your blades?”
“Because they’re attached to my fucking arms?” He snorted. “Not like I got a choice.”
Polycephaly unbuttoned the cuff of his right sleeve and pulled it back, tucking it back behind his elbow, revealing the reinforced joints and plating that made up his arm from the elbow down. When Voxxi finally rejoined him, he turned his arm over to show the underside, rubbing his thumb along a section at his wrist. The way Voxxi’s hand had started twitching, it wasn’t hard to tell he wanted to touch, so Polycephaly took Voxxi’s hand and placed it where his own had been, flexing the system so the other could feel the tension inside. “Keep your hand here when I release it.” He instructed.
The tightness inside seemed to snap as the hand folded back and disappeared inward, the long blade unsheathing with a shink satisfying to his audio. It was undeniably a design built more for stabbing than anything else.
“What are they made of?” Voxxi couldn’t help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him. He hadn’t seen this blade up close before (if you didn’t count when it tried to take his head off actually not too long ago). He scraped a finger along the edge to test the sharpness, humming with appreciation at what he felt.
“What do I look like, a blacksmith?” The TV man chuffed.
“You look like an ass that’s leaving me hanging on purpose.” He brought a hand back to the other’s forearm, feeling how much less tense it was when the spring wasn’t compressed and holding it in.
Polycephaly tried to repress the slight shudder that nearly escaped him. "Steel and titanium alloy or something, I think," he muttered.
Voxxi had detected the shudder, however, and couldn’t resist teasing him a little. He released the arm and blade he’d been holding and moved his hands back to his lap. “Here I was hoping for ‘the tears of my enemies’ or something.” The buzz was one Polycephaly had learned to associate with amusement.
It was infectious. He gave a chuckle of his own, his usual demeanor cracking for the moment. “Nothing nearly that exciting.” He replied, amused.
After a few more moments of silence and simply enjoying each other’s company, Voxxi nudged him in the torso, bringing his attention back around to him. “How about I teach you some Soundkind?”