More psychological f*ckery...

"Awake I see."

Arcee was amazed she didn't feel like utter scrap, considering the damage she'd undoubtedly sustained after lipping off. 'Must've had me repaired while I was in stasis,' she figured.

Megatron's touch against her side made her flinch away, and she opened her mouth to tell him where he could stick it, but no sound came out. What? Again she tried to speak... nothing. Panic set in, and she opened her mouth in frustration, trying to get a single word from her vocal processor.

"I warned you."

The warlords sharp reminder made her pause, horror dawning as she understood what he had done.

"This is your punishment for disobeying my order," the large mech informed her, watching the parade of emotions across her countenance. "Your voice and your sight will be returned to you when you can prove to me that you deserve such luxuries."

The two-wheeler was nearly shaking in outrage. Not being able to see was bad enough, but to be unable to voice her hate, all her anger and her sorrow. To be trapped inside of herself while everything just happened around her, it was a detached, surreal sensation, one that made her feel more alone that she ever had.

"Calm yourself," Megatron taunted. "I have something to show you."

Her small frame was pulled upright from whatever surface she was laying on, her arms restrained as she felt the tip of something press into the cortical port at the base of her helm. She tried in vain to express her displeasure, more servos holding her still while the link was secured.

Arcee was no stranger to the psychic patch, having experienced it personally several times before. Nor was she a stranger to the Decepticon's methods of psychological torment. Shadow play was something they were well known for. It took only a handful of kliks before she pieced together that it was Soundwave's memory she was viewing, and only another handful to recognize the scene.

No... she thrashed against whoever was holding her, pleading wordlessly for them to stop.

She could hear her captor's laughter over the audio attached to the memory, hear his pleased voice as he crooned to her, "I know it must have been so hard for you, to be robbed of the opportunity to see your comrade again, even during his last moments... I thought you might like to witness it for yourself."

She had to watch the scene through eyes not her own, watch the young mech struggle against the drones securing him, watch herself as she thrashed at the foot of Megatron's throne in her attempts to reach him, collared and leashed like an unruly pet. The sickeningly pleased look he wore as he observed it all.

The sound of her screams echoed inside her helm as her friend was slain, chassis skewered on the deranged seekers claws. The two wheeler keened internally as she watched his expression, noted how he looked up at her in despair... like he had failed her... before the light faded from his optics.

Her spark broke into a million little pieces. Those were his final thoughts as he was extinguished? No, no he didn't fail her. She failed him. It wasn't fair. Wasn't FAIR! She wanted to curse Megatron to the Pit, but she couldn't. Wanted to tell him to end her, but she couldn't. Wanted to scream until her voice box failed her... but she couldn't. So Arcee fought, fought harder than she had in a long time, giving every ounce of her strength. She pulled, wrested herself free, struck out with her limbs to hit whoever she could. When a servo grabbed hold of her helm she turned and bit down hard, tasting energon, feeling the tip of a digit sever between her denta before spitting it onto the floor and gnashing blindly again. She could hear the drones around her shouting to get control of her, and to her dismay it only took them a few moments to wrestle her to the floor and pin her meager weight beneath theirs.

The patch was disconnected and her mind was thrown into darkness again, her struggles dying as her energy was spent. She heard Megatron's approach as she quieted down.

"I threw his useless frame into the smelting pool. It seems fitting that his remains should be used to strengthen my armada."

Wracked with anger, lubricant and the spilt energon from the Vehicon's severed digit gathered on her glossa, and she spat in his direction.

His amused chuckle was her only response before she was hauled to her pedes again. The tyrant vented against her neck cables before reminding her, "This is the fate of the Autobot cause. There is no purpose in fighting against the inevitable."

He stepped away, ordering his men to return her to her cell and to strap her to the table. She didn't pay attention to much as they pulled her down the corridor, her mind wandering back to Smokescreen. She recalled how arrogant he'd been when he'd first arrived on Earth, how annoyed everyone had been with his air of self import. And how he'd grown... changed as time had passed. She'd had the pleasure of watching him mature in so many ways. He had so much potential... he would have made an exceptional warrior one day, maybe even an exceptional leader... but now they would never know.

The lax femme hardly even noticed when she was lifted onto the slab, strapped down like some kind of laboratory experiment. She lay there trembling as her mind tumbled over Megatron's menacing promise. In the dark quiet of her cell, thoughts of his insidious words echoed like thunder.