Warnings: psychological torture and character death in this chapter.
Her rousing was harsh - again, systems sputtering to process what was occurring as she felt herself being pulled to her pedes, several sets of servos gripping her frame at various places as her wrists were secured in stasis cuffs. A moment later a firm weight settled around her shoulders, metal biting at her neck cables as they snapped the collar in place. A sharp tug forward had her stumbling, and she did her best to keep up with whoever was pulling her along. Unable to see, Arcee could only guess where they were leading her. She decided to chance her luck and ask, unsure if she would get an answer or a physical reprimand. She braced for either outcome.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Lord Megatron has requested your presence."
The voice that replied was not entirely familiar, but had the same flat tone that most of the Decepticon drones had. A Vehicon, most likely. Deciding to withhold any further inquiries, she focused on staying upright as she was practically dragged through the halls of Darkmount, stopping only once – very abruptly – as they utilized a lift. The sudden shift in vertical direction threw her off balance for a moment, but she was steadied by a not so gentle servo on the back of her collar. The mech it belonged to grumbled lowly - something about clumsy Autobots, and a flicker of indignation curled in her spark. She thought bitterly to herself about their general lack of agility even when they had the luxury of sight, but kept the comment to herself, having learned better than to voice her opinions to anyone within these blasted walls.
Time crawled during the ascent, and while her optics had been locked offline she could almost feel the stares of the drones on her, heavy, judging, hungry. Her tank churned at the thought.
When the door of the lift slid open again, she could tell they were somewhere she had never been before. So many sounds filtered into her audio receptors. Too many pedesteps to count, the busy clack of digits against datapads, the steady relay of information between drones... and then everything went quiet as she was pushed forward.
The silence was so much worse, because she knew all of them were looking at her. Oh Primus... what were they going to do? All she wanted to do was turn around and run... but all she could do was move forward as she was herded further into the room.
"You look rather fetching in chains."
The voice came from just to her left, so close and so sudden she started, jerking away from it. Starscream's insufferable laughter followed suit. She stopped herself from spitting in his direction, knowing it would earn her further humiliation. It didn't stop her from curling her upper lip component in a displeased snarl though.
She felt the shifting weight of the collar at her neck, could tell the cord securing her was being handed off to someone else. A firm tug nearly made her fall, her pede tips catching on stairs she didn't realize were there until she was being hoisted up them.
"Don't be cross, little one."
That voice... that voice made her want to hide, to curl in on herself and disappear. His massive servo caught the cuffs detaining both her wrists and he pulled her down to kneel next to what she now realized was his thrown. The mental image made her shake with anger and shame, the once proud soldier now seated at the pedes of the monster who'd destroyed her planet and every family she had ever known. One of Megatron's talons grazed the back of her helm and she flinched sharply away.
"I have a surprise for you."
Arcee grit her denta so hard they hurt.
The once silent room suddenly erupted in commotion, the sound of a struggle drawing nearer. There was a familiar voice... who...?
"Take these manacles off and see what I can do, Con!"
It was unmistakable, that voice, hope blossoming within her. If he was here... if he was alive... the others. They might still have a chance. Barely above a whisper, she uttered his name. "... Smokescreen?"
The struggling stopped momentarily, and then he was calling out to her. "Arcee!"
She made to stand, to go to him, but was quickly pulled back down.
Megatron's tone was practically oozing with satisfaction as he informed her, "We found this nuisance crawling around a mining operation, digging for scraps."
"Get your nasty claws off of her, you piece of slag! What have you done?!" the enraged mech demanded, his struggles beginning anew as he valiantly tried to rescue his distraught comrade.
The warlord let out an amused chuckle. "You certainly are a hot tempered young bot. You are not, however, of any further use to me. Every shred of useful information you possess has already been extracted via cortical psychic patch... and with my energon supplies being regularly picked through by meddlesome vermin, I simply can't afford to sustain another prisoner."
Arcee felt her spark seize. She turned to Megatron, servos grasping at whatever she could find purchase on, whether it was him or the throne she wasn't certain. "Please... please don't do this."
Starscream snickered from his position at the tyrant's side. "How should we do it, hmm? I'm quite partial to the messy approach... like Cliffjumper."
The small femme lunged toward the sound of his voice, missing him entirely as her restraints kept her from getting too far. The devious seeker laughed at her outburst and turned to make his way down the stairs, the sharp clack of his heel struts punctuated by Smokescreen's frantic cries for them to let her go.
Again she tried to appeal to her captor. "Please! I will do anything, I will give you anything, just please... let him live."
Megatron leaned forward in his seat, clasping her lovely faceplate between two digits. He vented heavily as he brushed his scarred mouth against her right audial. "I take what I please, when I please. You have nothing to offer me that I do not already or will not soon possess."
"Be strong, Arcee, we'll get you out of here! We gghhh-"
The abrupt end to his statement and the horrific shriek of metal made her lines freeze, and she ripped herself away from Megatron, trying with every ounce of strength she possessed to get free, to go to him. "Smokescreen! Smokescreen!"
The only sound she got in response was the consistent drip, drip, drip of his life fluids spattering the ground, followed by the wet slide of Starscream's claws from his chassis... and the load crash of his body hitting the floor.
No. No, no, no, no, NO! Not another one. Not like this. Why? Why was this happening? They were supposed to win. All of her strength left her and she slid into a trembling heap on the ground, sorrow wracking her frame as yet another of her teammates was lost.
"This is the fate of those who defy me," the warlord stated loudly, rising from his throne. He glanced down at the shivering femme at his pedes, lowering his voice as he addressed her. "All of you will be brought to heel, one way or another."
Her sense had long since left her, sadness and anger overruling her better judgment as she spat, "You're pathetic!"
Her retaliation had been unexpected, stunning the towering silver mech long enough for her to continue. "No matter how many you conquer or how long you rule, you will always be pathetic! You'll never be half the mech Optimus was!"
No amount of armor could have protected Megatron from that particular barb, she knew. Everyone knew of his obsession with besting the Autobot leader, his jealousy over the coveted title of Prime being handed to someone else was the main fuel that fired the war-hungry lunatic.
"You would do well to remember I defeated Optimus Prime," he reminded her, giving the rope securing her collar a firm tug. "Now be silent."
The other occupants of the room were observing the exchange between them in utter stillness, shocked to witness anyone speak to their lord in such a way.
Arcee turned her face up toward him, wishing more than anything she could bear witness to the expression she was sure he was wearing. She drove on, relentless, the fear having left her in wake of her grief. "You're delusional. The only reason you were able to overcome him was because you fight like a dirty coward!"
"Unlike my former rival, I've been fighting long enough to understand that in order to gain what you want, you must do whatever is necessary. That is why Optimus fell, and I was victorious," he insisted venomously, daring her to say one more thing.
She smirked. "Win or lose, you'll only ever be a coward."
Snarling, the towering bot lashed out, the back of his servo connecting hard with the right side of her frame. The impact sent her half way across the room, her sensors alerting her to more warnings than she could count as her battered body finally slid to a stop on the cool, hard floor. Pain lanced through so many parts of her she couldn't even begin to tell where one injury stopped and the next began. Thankfully, after only a few agonizing moments, her awareness began to fade as her body forced her into stasis.
Megatron vented in frustration at her obstinate display, but quickly reminded himself that all good things took time, and that the most satisfying conquests took the most effort. Collecting himself, he turned to his second in command, who was still staring at the comatose body of the two-wheeler. "Starscream."
The seeker jumped a little at the sound of his name. "Y-yes, my liege?"
"Have her brought to the med bay, and instruct our good doctor to do something to correct that unruly glossa of hers."