The medbay was chaos. I thrashed on the berth, dazed from whatever the Decepticons had drugged me with, while Ratchet grumbled about how he absolutely did not have eleven eyes.

Meanwhile, in the command room, Arcee stood before Optimus, his optics cold with disappointment.

“You abandoned your partner,” he said, voice dangerously calm.

Arcee crossed her arms. “I work better alone.”

Optimus’s optics narrowed. “This is not about what you want. You were given a direct order. Because of your actions, your teammate was captured and drugged.”

Arcee’s vents flared. “I didn’t ask for a partner—”

Optimus stepped forward, towering over her. “You do not get to pick and choose orders. You let personal feelings cloud your judgment, and it nearly cost us a life.”

Arcee clenched her fists, but the weight of Optimus’s disappointment was crushing.

“You will apologize,” he said, voice firm. “And from now on, you will follow orders—or you will be removed from field duty. Understood?”

She hesitated before forcing out a stiff, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, go to the medbay. See the consequences of your actions.”

Arcee stiffened but obeyed.

Back in the medbay, Ratchet sighed, running a servo down his face. “For the last time, I do not have eleven eyes!”

Arcee entered just as you gasped in horror.

“OH PRIMUS, NOW SHE HAS TWELVE!”