A/N: I know. Updates are kind of slow, but in my defense, I am working on seven different stories right now. (More than that if you count the ones I haven't uploaded. I don't though.) It's actually about to be five. I'm deleting two, because they were the ones that I was crushed the most on when my computer crashed and lost all of the files I had pre-written on. They will be re-uploaded after I get my groove back on them. If I get my groove back on them.

This is short cause there is a strange bug on my keyboard, and I'm scared...

REVIEWS

Autobotschic: XD Covenant's gonna beat somebody. XD Not really! -passes you high grade- There you go. Wait. -takes cube back- You're underage. You can't have that. Wait. I'm underage. I can't have this! -dumps cube on ground.- I'm sure the Earth isn't underage...

Autobot Trapjaw: XD I hated Algebra. I hate Calculus like ten times more though. NEVER take calculus. Pre-cal is okay, but CALCULUS WAS MADE BY UNICRON! He made it so he could pick out the very few smart people who could do it, and then kill the rest.

Marshall stood awkwardly as the green and black femme glared at him while leaning against her desk. The only think keeping her from attacking him was the huge red and blue mech standing between them. Marshall shifted as Optimus stepped forward. He felt the disappointment roll off the mech. Shadow stalker pushed herself off her desk, and sent a growl to Marshall.

Optimus brought his servo up to signal for Shadow Stalker to back down. She sent a growl, but went back to her position against her desk. Optimus sighed as he turned his attention back to Marshall. "Marshall, you are not in trouble."

"The frag he isn't."

Optimus sighed, but continued. "Marshall, you are an Autobot."

Marshall glanced down. "How do you know?" He shifted again as he began playing with his servos. "How do you know I'm not a Decepticon?"

Optimus placed a servo on Marshall's shoulder. "Because, you're not. Did you once feel you belonged in that Decepticon base? At all?"

Marshall frowned. "No."

"See?"

"But I don't feel like I belong here either."

Optimus glanced down. "If you are referring to not working, and spending most of your time in the Medical bay, that is because you are still recuperating. You just came online, and it is important for you to understand how things work around here." Optimus sighed. "When you are at the top of your abilities, you will be able to be fully integrated into the ranks. You'll be able to tryout different sections or divisions until you find the one you like."

Marshall's helm fell to the side. "I don't understand."

"You're going to choose where you belong." Optimus passed him a data pad. "These are all the divisions we have. Choose one, and we'll set up you trial period."

Marshall gripped the data pad in her servo, and stared at it. "I see. I- Thank you."

Optimus nodded. "You may go."

Marshall ran out of the room, quick to exit the most awkward situation he had ever lived through.

Shadow Stalker stayed silent as her office door closed. Optimus turned to the femme. "I trusted you not to force anything on him."

Shadow stalker glared at her bonded. "So it's all my fault now?"

"No, but you certainly did not help."

Shadow Stalker growled. "You are blaming me! I can't be-"

"Trapjaw is offline." As soon as the sentence left Optimus's lip components the room went cold. The obvious statement made Shadow Stalker glare and growl. Optimus shook his helm. "Marshall is not Trapjaw, and you cannot try to force him to be like Trapjaw. Shadow, You cannot hold Marshall to the same standards you held Trapjaw to. They are different beings with different personalities. The only thing they have in common is music, and a Spark's Core."

Shadow Stalker turned away from Optimus. I can't stand him! I hate him. The only reason he gets to live is because Trapjaw had to die!"

Optimus frowned "You know that's not true."

"It is to me." Shadow Stalker shook her helm. "He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her! He wouldn't."

Marshall sat on the medical berth, and looked through the data pad. Ratchet glanced over to him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to decide which division to try out first. Do you know which division that femme was on?"

"Which femme?" Ratchet grabbed some dirty tools off a tray, and threw them into a huge bucket.

"The green one. She was so cool."

"Shadow Stalker?"

"No!" Marshall's optics went wide. "She kinda scares me. I was talking about the one who is all green. Well, different shades, but she-"

"Covenant?"

"Maybe. I didn't get a designation."

"She's special ops, infiltration, and espionage." Ratchet pulled out a rag, and began cleaning off a tool tray. "It's best not to get involved with her."

Marshall frowned. "Why not?"

Ratchet sighed as he put down the huge bucket of tools, and threw the rag down on the tray he was cleaning. "Because she isn't all there."

"She's stupid?"

"No, insane. She has a few bolts loose in her helm. From some of the reports on her I've read, she's on the same level of insanity as some of the Decepticons."

Marshall frowned. "She was kind of nice to me."

Ratchet sighed. "Did she once ask you for your name?"

"No." Marshall answered, disappointment in his voice. "She didn't."

"Want to know why?"

"I guess."

"She doesn't like getting to know people. Prowl thinks it's because she ends up killing them. Ironhide thinks it's because she has some sort of problem with Autobots, and doesn't want to know us at all. I think it's because of something else. I just don't know what."

Marshall frowned. His optics dimmed a little. "Is she... Has she ever killed anybody?"

"You watched her blow up that base. Three other Autobots were inside, none of them came out. Except you."

"She pulled me out!"

Ratchet nodded. "You're lucky she didn't leave you there too."

Marshall nodded. "Where is she now."

"Prowl is talking to her. She'll end up in the brig, and she'll escape the brig. Disappear for a couple of weeks and then show up again. It's a regular thing. Maybe not the offlining three other Autobots, but blowing scrap up is."

Marshall nodded. "I wouldn't mind getting to know her."

"Nobody really knows her." Ratchet stood up off the berth, and picked back up his bucket of tools. "I don't even know her, and I'm her physician!"

Marshall nodded as Ratchet picked up his rag. "If First Aid comes in, tell him that bucket of tools needs to be cleaned A.S.A.P. No excuses. I have to go give this slagging report to Prowl."

Marshall nodded. "Alright."

Marshall peeked inside the Recreation room. Ironhide was in the corner, glaring. That was not good. Marshall stepped inside, and walked up to Ironhide. "I -"

"Shut up. I get it. Optimus already talked to me, and from now on, you're under me. I'm going to teach you why the Decepticons are the worst slagging choice for you to have ever made. Meet me in the training rooms tomorrow. If you're not there I'll hunt you down."

"I don't where the training rooms are!"

"Then find 'em." Ironhide stood up, and stomped out of the room.

Marshall frowned. "Aw man."

"Ironhide's a nice guy."

Marshall turned to the couch. An Orange and red mech sat on the couch. "I, uh-"

"I'm Hot Rod." The mech turned back to the television. "Ironhide is just upset. It's been that time of his life, you know?"

"Somebody has told me that before. He said that Ironhide was going through some things."

Hot Rod nodded. "A lot of us are. Ironhide, Ratchet, Shadow Stalker; Pretty much everybody. We lost somebody in a battle. She was a medic. Worked with Ratch."

"Ratchet?"

Hot Rod smiled over to Marshall. He motioned to the place next to him. "Sit." Marshall walked over to the couch and sat down uncertainly. Hot Rod chuckled. "Don't worry about it. What's your name?"

"Marshall."

A sad smile came over Hot Rod's face. "Really? Wow. You know, I think we'll be friends."

Marshall's helm fell to the side. "I don't have any friends."

Hot Rod frowned. "Well, my mech, you do now."

Marshall smiled. "What do friends do?"

Hot Rod laughed. "Well for one, they talk to each other. I have to go, I have a shift with Prowl. He's a hard aft."

Marshall smiled. "Alright! Goodbye... friend."

Hot Rod patted Marshall's shoulder. "See ya, Buddy."