The ship was eerily quiet as the seeker onlined his optics, dimly lit as he looked up at the door. No voices. He was used to hearing voices the past few cycles that it was the only thing to let him know that everything was as it should be.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed since his previous torture session from his truly. His helm lifted as he licked E stained lips, wincing before he called out. "Anyone there?"
Silence. The seeker winced as he looked down at his sorry frame. The cockpit glass was shattered in a spider-web pattern, his legs and sides were dented and scratches littered his body. One ran across the seeker's face as an optic seemed punched in as it couldn't open completely. Wings were crumpled, light scratches and dents, nothing more. But enough to make sure that flight or transformation was painful.
Hanging there, the seeker awaited for a hint of sound, but the only thing he could hear was his own in-takes and out-takes as they became loud in his audios. He thought he heard voices, calling out from his prison only to have silence call back louder than before.
Soon the seeker began to grow nervous, wings were chained under the points to prevent maneuvering or any sort of action while he was under torture or treatment. He realized then that he was alone and something wasn't right.
Around him he notes the walls were heavy in corrosion, which didn't make any sense. Just how long was he out? He was positive he was out for a good cycle or two. There was no explanation for something like this to happen unless he was out for more than just a few cycles.
His tanks screeched as he forced whatever E was left to circulate throughout his framework so he was able to flex his digits. A sharp intake and the seeker twisted his servo to drag a scratched digit along the side of his chain. He let out a small chuckle before groaning. He couldn't risk spending whatever E was left, and so he initiates power down.