The Devil's Advocate

Chapter 9

As the black of stasis faded and colour started to sting her optics, the only difference Arcee noticed between being captured by Starscream and by the Decepticons is that the Decepticons at least didn't make her sit on the floor. With the strength that trickled back into her limbs she pushed and wrenched against the now familiar restraints on her wrists and new ones on her legs, squirming on the cold slab of metal at her back that squashed her winglets under her frame.

Standing some way aside over a table of Primus-knows what kind of equipment, Knockout heard her thrashing and grunting but only acknowledged it with the slightest flick of his helm. She was on the verge of snapping her servos off by the time he decided to speak, lazily calling over his shoulder.

"You know, this whole time Megatron has been trying to get you where you live, wasting thousands of hours combing the planet for any trace of Autobots, but you're kind enough to just hand yourself over!" He chuckled as he turned around, a smug grate of his vents that made Arcee hiss- or maybe that was the sight of the cable dangling in his hand like a dormant viper, the same one she'd used on Bumblebee what seemed like years ago.

"Unfortunately, I can't bear to waste such a pretty frame on wild experiments, but I can take a look inside your helm." The Cortical Psychic Patch buzzed and hummed in his grip, as if responding to his growing smirk and the panic taking firm hold of Arcee's systems. Her processor, any Autobot's head, held everything needed for just one Decepticon to destroy them from the inside. And that wasn't even considering her time with Starscream, nevermind what she knew of what he was planning. The only moments of privacy and- dare she admit it- peace she'd had left in the midst of the new war, of Cliffjumper's demise, had been spent in that slagger's company. The same one who'd more likely than not left her as Decepticon bait. The prospect of those moments being dissected, torn apart and sifted through, that scared her more than anything else.

And Knockout could sense it the closer he approached, the glitching static of her EM field laying bare the depth of her fear and anger and that bitter, neverending chasm of betrayal that she ended up falling back into every time she managed to drag herself out. Him in her mind, mocking her for any hope and happiness she had, cutting deeper than Starscream's claws or words ever could, would have surely destroyed her, as much as she hated to know it.

But Autobots tended to have good timing, and once where Knockout stood proud and preening lay a crumpled mess of red plating a nanoklick later, with a yellow mech towering over him.

"Bumblebee!" He whirred in acknowledgement, dusting off the fist he'd just slammed into the back of Knockout's helm and stubbornly stepping on him as he approached Arcee's restraints. "How... how did you-"

"I got a little impatient with our whole 'three days' deal, but I saw the drones lifting you up when I went to find you. I got the whole team to help storm the ship to get you out." He managed to find the release for all her restraints, the stasis cuffs fizzling out and letting her rub the half-healed chafes in her wrists.

"Where's everyone else?" she asked, quickly ridding herself of shakes as she sat up, cautiously eyeing the groaning shape of Knockout on the floor.

"They're keeping this place secure," Bee answered, a ped pressed on the downed medic's neck just in case. "As soon as the coast is clear, we'll call in a Ground Bridge and get you back to base-"

But Arcee stopped listening at that point, when she saw the faintest smudge of grey and a flint of red streaking over Bumblebee's shoulder. It only lingered for less than a nanoklick, but long enough for her to notice and recognise the very warped image of Starscream before it was gone. The red energon was letting him slip right through every guard on the ship without them knowing- and she still had her own dose in her subspace.