"Defenders of Earth. We have come for your natural resources to rebuild our damaged planet. When we have transported all we need, we will leave your world in peace. For such peace to exist, you must immediately exile the Autobot rebels you have harbored. Non negotiable. Renounce the rebels. We await your reply."

Lies. All of it.

Not that Rochelle was going to open her mouth—she couldn't anyway. Her vocals just wouldn't work for her since all that . . . screaming. Besides, what the Decepticons asked was ludicrous—why even consider it? The Decepticons clearly wanted them to leave so that they would have little to no opposition when they overtook the planet. If they thought that the humans would fall for that trick when it was always clear that they wanted complete domination over the planet, the Decepticons were stupider than she had originally thought.

Rochelle faintly remembered being transported from the destroyed headquarters of Washington back to Diego Garcia, but not much else. Everyone was disturbed—mainly Optimus. But . . . she couldn't really find it in her to care.

Rochelle sat in the Autobot chamber where Ironhide used to park. She rested limply against his one tire, her jacket folded carefully and laid against it—she didn't want to risk letting more of his—his—his RUST spilling out.

She was faintly aware of Mearing speaking with Optimus. She finally latched a bit to the conversation when she said, " . . . You take your Autobots and ship off."

Rochelle blinked. What? They weren't serious.

However, Optimus's words proved her wrong. "This freedom is your right." Freedom her right, stick it up her ass! Rochelle lifted her head, unbelieving of what she was hearing from Optimus's lips. "Since you ask it of us, we will leave peacefully."

"No."

It was the first word she had spoke since Ironhide's death—denial again. Optimus and Mearing turned to her, and Optimus blinked in shock.

"Rochelle . . . ? What—"

"Don't give me that shit," she snarled, strength coming back into her bones. Rochelle stood up, stepping out of Ironhide's wheel, fury broiling inside of her. "You heard exactly what I said—I. Said. NO!"

"That's just too bad," Mearing stated to her, turning on her. "We have reached an agreement. The Autobots will ship out, and as an Autobot, you have no say in this matter. You will go too."

"I won't!" Rochelle screamed the words, heat rising under her skin even as she felt the cool air conditioning of the garage. Her stomach and arms were bare—displaying her NEST and Autobot emblem tattoo because she wore nothing but a black sports bra in the heat of summer with her jacket shed, steel-toed boots, and camouflage cargo pants.

"Rochelle," Optimus said gently, "please. Listen to me for—"

"I said I won't do it, damn it, Optimus!" Rochelle stalked up to him, unafraid and furious. "I'm just as human as I am Autobot, and you can't take that away from me! You might go and run like a little BITCH, but I won't! I have friends! Family! This is MY race, and if you want to fucking abandon them, go ahead! But I WON'T!"

"Rochelle," Mearing stated again, eyes flat, "I'm afraid this is out of your control. You will go with the Autobots, even if—"

That did it! Transforming in the blink of an eye, Rochelle felt something inside of her snap. Losing control of herself, Rochelle leapt up in front of Mearing and transformed one hand into a blade and the other into claws. Grabbing Mearing's face with her claws, Rochelle slammed her head against the desk behind her, bending her over backwards and pressing the edge of her sword against her neck.

"Rochelle!"

Optimus's shout was one of shock, and Lennox, bound by duty, pointed his gun at the "exile". "Rochelle!" he shouted as well. "Stand down!"

"Make me, damn it!" she snapped back, digging her sharp fingers into a silenced Mearing. She pressed her sword more firmly to her throat. She leaned in close, snarling, "I've been itching to get a little bit of your blood on my hands!"

"Rochelle, stand down!"

"Or what?" she said sarcastically to Lennox. She turned her wild eyes on him. "You'll shoot me? That's what you're supposed to do, so do it!" He kept the gun trained on her, and a muscle in his cheek twitched as his hands gripped the gun. Her eyes blazed in their sockets as she screamed, "Take the fucking shot!"

Still he couldn't do it, even seeing her as insane as she was.

"Optimus," Ratchet said in apprehension, "I'm afraid she can't handle the stress of what's happened. The way her spark has ripped—she's slowly losing her mind. I don't think she can handle losing him like that—"

"Shut up!" Her shriek was directed to Ratchet, and she turned the cannon of her tail on him, Medusa hair on her head weaving in all directions at the people with their trained guns on her.

Optimus came closer to her, saying, "Rochelle, please, calm down and listen to me for just a second—"

"No!" Rochelle lifted her sword and changed it to a cannon. She turned it on Optimus within the moment. He barely had the chance to bring his head back before she shot, and her bullet hit his shoulder hard, making him staring in shock at the slight scar she made on him.

She . . . had shot him . . . had SHOT him!

Rochelle threw Mearing away from her, disgusted at her very presence. "What now, Optimus?" She jumped up on the railing, letting her cannon whir in a threat to him, locked, loaded, and ready. Her eyes blazed. "I'll kill you!"

Optimus flinched back again, clearly remembering the last time the same situation had occurred—only then, she believed in him, and this time she hated him.

"You're a fucking hypocrite and bastard, Optimus PRIME!" She said his name like a curse, wounding him farther. "You're all bastards!" Rochelle let her guns shift and point to all the other Autobots who meekly withstood her tongue-lashing without saying anything. "I hate you all! You're liars, you're hypocrites, you're bastards, little bitches scared of a little fight; you're spineless, weak, and worse than Decepticons! At least when a Decepticon makes a promise to kill you, he'll keep that promise! You all would abandon us when we need you the most without looking back once!"

"Rochelle, PLEASE," Optimus pleaded desperately again. "You must understand—we—"

"I understand fucking PERFECTLY!" she screamed back, nerves on end so that she thought she would explode. "You were never going to help us! You're all bastards, every one of you, and I hate you all!" Her rage was a combination of hate and tears, and Rochelle jumped down, unbelieving that the ones she had trusted most had betrayed her. "I hope all of you rot in hell! I'll never forgive you—never! Never! Never speak to me again!"

Rochelle ran off down the corridors to her room, and in her frenzy, ripped the door slightly off its hinges. It infuriated her more, and Rochelle slammed it hard only for it to ricochet back and slowly swing shut again. Transforming back into a human, Rochelle threw herself down dejectedly on the bed and cried more, bawling her eyes out.

Nothing was right anymore! Ironhide would never betray them! Ironhide would never leave! He would fight to the death for them no matter what! Irregular, uncontrollable sobs wrenched from her body as she felt the hot tears seeping down her cheeks, soaking in her pillowcase. The pillow was muffling her shrieks, but they were still so loud it hurt her ears.

Nothing would ever be right again. The Autobots would leave; the Decepticons would take over; Rochelle wouldn't be able to do anything. Even with what she had, it still wasn't enough—she wasn't powerful enough to stop all the Decepticons alone. She would die trying to do a little something to protect her planet, her friends, her family—but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She would get to go see Ironhide again . . .

Rochelle's weeping barely had time to slow before she felt little, rough skin rubbing against her arm. Blinking swollen, tear-stained eyes at the little gecko, her lips trembled.

"Hey there, TurboBooster . . ." She had been neglecting him lately. He had disappeared in the fight, and she hadn't been looking out for him. "Sorry about forgetting about you . . ."

The little gecko transformed, opening his mouth, replaying a voice she thought she'd never hear again. His voice was tender, yet rough, that combination she loved so much. "My love is just waiting to turn your tears into roses." A lump bobbed precariously in her throat, hearing him say that tearing her apart more. "I will be the one that will hold you. I will be the one that you run to." His next words rasped with suppressed passion. "My love is a burning, consuming fire!"

Rochelle succumbed to tears all over again at the sound of Ironhide's voice. Shaking, it took some time to control herself and for TurboBooster to speak again.

His voice relayed Bumblebee's excited voice. "I have a message for you!" Then it switched to Ironhide again as he commented, "But ya probly won't like it." Then, it switched again to Sideswipe as he barked about Kim, "Well I have a message for her!"

Blinking, understanding, Rochelle used her palms to wipe away her tears. "What is it?"

TurboBooster opened his mouth again, and she recognized Mirage's thick, Italian accent. "It's Optimus."

She scowled, flopping her face into her pillow. "I don't want to hear it!" she snapped into the pillow that muffled her words. Shortly after, she heard TurboBooster again—or, in more certain terms, heard Optimus.

"Rochelle, please!" She jerked upright, staring lividly at her gecko who was suspended from the ceiling by his suction cups. "I beg of you, listen to me for just five minutes—just one minute! Please, Rochelle, I will do anything, but you must understand!" Desperation laced his voice. "We will be deported very soon, Rochelle, we—Please. I beg of you, spare me one minute to explain! Please . . . Please, Rochelle."

The raw pleading of his voice was too much for even Rochelle. Hating herself that she was giving in to him again, Rochelle scowled and slung the broken door open again, TurboBooster trailing behind her.

It was true—they were all lining up, Optimus at the head, the lead away from Earth. Rochelle felt unspeakable fury choke her again, and she stalked up. She watched his rearview mirror twitch her way, and he transformed immediately, turning to her.

"Rochelle, please, I can explain!"

Rochelle crossed her arms, chilly without her leather jacket. "Well you better hurry up cause you've already wasted eight seconds."

Optimus looked over as someone told him that they had to get going, and Optimus said, "Get in—I will tell you on the way—"

"I'm—not—fucking—going—ANYWHERE!" Rochelle snarled at him, fists clenching at her sides. "You better explain yourself, and fast, cause you're on the clock and you've wasted twenty-two seconds now."

With a soft sound of impatience, Optimus picked her up and deposited her on his shoulder, moving away from the ears of others. To accentuate the point of this great secret, he accessed the line of her communicator.

"We aren't leaving."

Rochelle, however, had no qualms about people hearing them. "Oh, really? Then what the hell are you doing right now!"

"Rochelle, listen: we will act as if we are leaving on the Xanthium, but we will be ejected in the first stage of the blast off. The Wreckers designed the ship themselves—I promise we will stay, and then we WILL fight to save this planet. You have my word as a Prime."

Rochelle stayed frozen on his shoulder. That wasn't true. They were . . . leaving?

Finally, she stammered, "W-Why?"

"It has to be this way," he said quietly, people waiting impatiently for their conversation to finish so the Autobots would leave. "The humans must believe that we have abandoned them once and for all so that they will see the Decepticons will never leave them be."

It wasn't true. For some reason, Rochelle felt tears welling up in her eyes. Guilty for not believing in Optimus when he had never let her down before, Rochelle threw her arms around his head, neck, and she cried.

"I'm sorry!" she burst out, hating the fact that all she did anymore was cry. "I'm sorry, I should have—I should have—" Little sobs shook her body as she stopped talking to fight them away.

Optimus's eyes lidded and turned tender as he looked over at her. "Rochelle . . ." Then, realizing he had slipped from the transmission to his mouth, he quickly recertified that mistake. "It is all right. But please . . . Play along with us. I promise, we won't stop fighting until this planet is safe at last."

Rochelle pressed her cheek against his warm steel, biting her lip hard as she fought the tears back to pathetic hiccups. "Okay . . . Thanks, Optimus."

She felt his jaw move as he spoke. "You are welcome."

The Autobots were pulling out. Carefully prying Rochelle from around his neck, Optimus transformed again to his trailer, taking his place at the end. Rochelle rolled down his window to let TurboBooster in when he climbed up Optimus's side. They pulled out slowly.

Stroking the little gecko's scales, TurboBooster opened his mouth. "Where're we going?"

Rochelle bit her lip, the sound of Ironhide's voice like salt on a raw wound. Her lips trembled uncertainly, but she nuzzled her nose to his. "Away . . . for now."

Rochelle felt a ring in her head. Frowning, she let her communicator form on the side of her head. "Hello?"

"Rochelle! Rochelle, what's going on?" Rochelle jolted stiff in Optimus's seat when she heard her mother's frenzied voice. "There's Decepticons everywhere, there's one hardly a mile away! What's going on? Why did they pass legislation to exile the Autobots?" She was frozen. Her mother's voice kept spilling out anxious questions. "Why is the alliance over? Rochelle, what's happening with you? Where are you? Are you all right? What's going on? Rochelle? Rochelle!"

The weld of her lips finally broke when she heard a frantic shuffle and someone saying, "Speaker, put it on speaker phone!" A brief tussle more and a sharp clack, and Rochelle heard her father's voice demand, "Rochelle, what's happened?"

Her lips trembled. "I—I—Mom—Dad—" Suddenly feeling more of those wretched tears, Rochelle took a steadying breath.
Next, she heard Kim's scared voice. "Rochelle, they're not really sending the Autobots away, are they? They can't do that!"

"I—they—" Finally, Rochelle heaved out, "It's true!"

Silence greeted from the opposite side of the phone. Forced to roll with her explanation, she gripped Optimus's seat tightly with her hand for strength. "Sentinel Prime—he betrayed us, turned Decepticon—he's the one that let all the Decepticons on Earth. And, and they set a false ransom to take what supplies they need and leave if the government exiled the Autobots—but it's not true. They're—they're going to . . . they're going to . . ."

Rochelle looked up—the XANTHIUM. They were drawing close.

Kim's voice filled her ears again. "They're . . . they're not going to kill us . . . are they . . ." But it wasn't a question. Rochelle didn't tell of her theory of them enslaving the human race.

There was a long silence in which Rochelle watched the faint XANTHIM become larger and larger. "Rochelle," her father finally said hesitantly, "I'm—I'm sorry. I realize you loved Ironhide and all . . ." Rochelle froze, body slacking limp at the sound of his name. "I—I can't believe they're all just leaving like that . . . Is that Optimus forcing Ironhide to leave with them? I—I don't believe for a second that even he would just leave you like that. He's too stubborn."

"Dad—I—Ironhide is—he's—" Rochelle shook, tears beading up. "He's already gone!"

She could almost hear them all start from across the line. "You mean he already left? Did he even say goodbye?"

"No—No, no—He's gone! Gone! He—" The words ripped from her throat, the tears falling freely now. "He's dead!"

Rochelle clamped her hand over her mouth as if to hold back the words that she wished weren't true. Trembling, the silence over the line was ominous.

It was Kim who spoke first again. "I'm . . . sorry, Rochelle . . . Are you okay? Come on home, I'll be right at the door for you."

The stifling sobs were threatening further—she had to seal the bargain with Optimus, they couldn't know . . . She had to . . . Through her fight against her tears, Rochelle burst, "I—I'm not coming home!"

Her mother's panicked voice filled the phone. "What? What are you talking about! Of course you're coming home! You're still human! You're still human, they can't do this! They can't do this!" Rochelle flinched away hearing her mother's shrieks rise to hysterical, the sounds cutting her heart open. They dwindled away, and she heard only one voice.

"Rochelle? It's Kim."

As if she wouldn't know . . . Rochelle bit her lip. "Wh-where's Mom and Dad?"

Tears laced her sister's voice. "In the other room. Dad's trying to calm her down." There was a beat of silence. "Rochelle . . . You guys aren't really going . . . are you? The Decepticons . . . You guys aren't really leaving . . ."

Kim waited for her answer. It was the hardest thing ever Rochelle had to do—nothing compared . . . To tell her own family she was abandoning them . . . Finally, in a miniscule voice, Rochelle whispered, "Yes."

The impending XANTHIUM was close now. Tall, hulking—they passed the Wreckers who were pissed to say the least that they were leaving. Or, putting on a grand show that they were pissed.

Kim's teary voice came over the phone. "It's—Rochelle, that's not true—you—you wouldn't leave . . . We—Optimus—You—It's not true! Please, tell me it's not true, you guys would never do that!"

Unable to stop it, Rochelle cried out, "Oh, God, Optimus, I can't do this! I can't!"

They were at the foot of the XANTHIUM. Optimus transformed, set Rochelle in his hand, and looked down at her. The choice was hers; she could see the message through his resigned, tired eyes.

He glanced over seeing Sam, and he passed Rochelle to Sideswipe. Sideswipe took her, depositing her on his own shoulder so foreign compared to Ironhide's, saying, "Come on, Rochelle, tough it out . . . It's almost over."

Immediately, Kim suddenly stopped crying from over the phone with a hiccup. "Was that Sideswipe?"

Rochelle nodded. "Yeah."

"Tell him—Tell him I said goodbye."

He approached the edge of the XANTHIUM's boarding platform, setting Rochelle gently down. He turned to go, unable to look at her, but she blurted, "Wait!" Sideswipe turned back. Rochelle bit her lip. "K-Kim says goodbye."

Stunned, she watched his optics widen, something tearing deep within his eyes. He turned away from Rochelle quickly, muttering suspiciously thick, "Yeah . . . Tell her . . . I said goodbye."

Sideswipe rolled away, brooding. Rochelle passed his message. "Sideswipe says goodbye."

Her sister started crying buckets of tears then. "You guys are really leaving! You're—you're—!"

Her sobs cut through Rochelle's heart. She could hear her mom crying softly too. Unable to take it, Rochelle burst, "I'm sorry! I—I have to go. I can't—I can't—" Can't take this anymore. She whispered, "I have to go . . ."

"I love you, Rochelle!" she heard Kim explode quickly.

"I love you," her mom echoed.

"I'll always love you."

Her dad—choked up, Rochelle managed, "I love you, guys. I—I have to—I have to—to go—" Rochelle cut the transmission short, disturbed on the inside as she hugged herself, rocking on her heels. That was just so wrong! She knew she was coming back—but her family thought they would never see her again and would be killed by Decepticons! Cruel fate taunted her.

Her sharp ears heard Optimus speaking to Sam. "What your leaders say is true," Optimus stated. He dropped his head, shaking it. "This was all my fault."

Rochelle blinked wide in horror. She leaned against the rail of the loading dock. With that tone of voice, Optimus was either one hell of an actor . . . or he truly believed that.

"I told them whom to trust." It was no bluff—his voice was laden with guilt. "I was so wrong."

"That doesn't make it your fault, that just makes you human for a change." Rochelle's lips trembled at Sam's comforting words. She thanked him silently for trying to soothe Optimus's misguided guilt . . .

"Remember this," Optimus told him. "You may lose your faith in us . . ." He looked down on Sam, and Rochelle wished she could see his expression. "But never in yourselves."

Optimus turned away—his face was grim. Seems he hated this as much as she did, but he was much more professional about it. Rochelle frowned when Sam tensed and hunched in pain, and that was when her eyes quickly latched and analyzed his watch—a Decepticon. Didn't he realize? Obviously—he was nearly cringing in pain. It prompted his next words.

"I need to know how you're going to fight back." Her jaw set—the Decepticons wanted to make sure of no strike-back at them. They were spying—and that was why Optimus wanted to make sure no one knew. Why he had hesitated to tell even her until she flipped out at him.

"I know this is strategy, I—" Rochelle watched him struggled for the words. And why was he complying? Did the Decepticons threaten his life? "I know you're coming back with reinforcements, or something, and I know there's a plan—" Sam stopped short again, barely able to continue. "You can tell me, no other HUMAN will ever know."

Yeah. The Decepticons would know.

However, Optimus turned around with exhausted, resigned eyes. "There is no plan."

Sam was stricken. "We just do what they want," he denied him, "and how are we gonna live with ourselves?"

Optimus leaned over, resting a hand on his knee as he spoke. Once again, Rochelle wished his back wasn't turned so she could assess his face, his eyes, and see what he truly thought.

"You are my friend, Sam," he stated. "You always will be." He stood. "But your leaders have spoken." His eyes searched the distance. "From here, the fight will be your own."

She couldn't bear to watch this—looking over, she held out her hands to Mirage, and he gave her little Wheelie and Brains. Clearly, they had no clue what was really going on.

"They can't send us away, it's a Decepticon trap," Wheelie protested, but she gave them a quiet shush.

She watched as Optimus looked over at someone. "Make it short." His voice was bitter. "We're loading up."

Bumblebee. Rochelle watched him go out to Sam, crouching in front of him. She turned her back—she didn't want to intrude. She guessed Sam would be crying—she knew she would be—had been.

They launched at dawn.

0400 hours, and Rochelle could hear the Autobots talking about her. She figured they would—they were debating on whether or not she would be in the battle tomorrow. Rochelle said she would, but Optimus was doubtful.

Rochelle, using her transformed finger, let Wheelie and Brains out of their cage. They both expressed their gratefulness, but Rochelle focused more on the Autobots words.

"But Prime, we'll need every asset we've got to defeat all those Decepticons, and you know it!"

Rochelle sat on the ground, brought her knees up to her chest, and hugged herself as she watched Optimus shake his head. "No, Sideswipe. Look at her. She is in no condition to fight."

"I agree with Optimus on this," Wheeljack said, hair glowing in the dark. "She's more likely to get herself hurt."

Ratchet sent her a worried glance. "She's too unstable right now. Maybe later when she has . . . got a grip on things, but not now."

"And I say if she wants to fight," Sideswipe fought, "Then let her fight!"

"Yeah," Wheelie echoed. "That girl deserves to jack up some Decepticons ass."

Bumblebee was hesitant. "Well, if that's what she really wants . . ."

Optimus shook his head. "No. Not in her condition—she's more likely to let herself be killed than truly fight." He averted his eyes that glowed bright in the dark. "And I fear that might be her true objective."

"Not Rochelle," Mirage said in that thick, Italian accent she loved. "Give the girl a bit more credit—" and he suddenly lapsed into a fluent Italian that seemed reverent even though Rochelle couldn't understand him. All she could understand was one word—Ironhide. "E'aspra e dura, prorio come Ironhide—lei non si arrendera senza combattere. Give her a chance, Optimus."

"No," Optimus said shortly again. "She will go home to her family. I will not risk her saftey—She will return home."

His tone was final.

"Who will take her home?" WheelJack asked.

Optimus hesitated. Rochelle knew he didn't want her just taking a taxi—there were too many Decepticons around for his comfort. His eyes drifted between Bumblebee, the young, greenhorn that he was unsure of if he could take the heat of such a serious battle, Ratchet who was never a great fighter, and WheelJack, who was more brains than skill. Optimus made his deciscion, saying, "Bring her home safe, WheelJack, then rendevu at the battlefront."

He must have picked WheelJack because he must have seen something he liked in Bumblebee's determined eyes, and deduced that he needed Ratchet's medical skills on the front.

However, one Autobot dared a bit more.

"Optimus," Sideswipe said carefully, "if I got her will to fight back, would you let her stay?"

The great Autobot paused, looking down on Rochelle. She stared unabashedly back. Finally, though worry laced his eyes, he stated, "You may try."

He didn't believe she would truly want to battle. It kinda irked Rochelle, but it was true—she didn't really have a will to fight.

However, one look from Sideswipe's determined eyes and she almost instantly felt different about the situation. "Rochelle," he stated to her, kneeling, "Are you really just going to let the Decepticons have their way?"

She blinked. "What?"

"That's right," he said a bit scathingly. "You're just going to sit here and wallow in self-pity?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, hurt at his painful accusation. "Shut up, Sideswipe!"

"That's what you doing," he persisted. "Tell me, if your position was reversed, would Ironhide be sitting here pitying himself?"

Rochelle froze. No, he wouldn't. He would . . . He would be . . .

"I thought so." Sideswipe's voice was smug. "Now, tell me what he would be doing."

She looked up at him with wide eyes, pupils dialating from looking straight into his blazing blue eyes. "He—He would be wanting to kill them."

"That's right," Sideswipe said approvingly. "Now tell me this: what would you do if I brought you Sentinel subdued right now? What would you do to him?"

"I—" Rochelle felt it—the anger and ruthlessness Sideswipe was trying to provoke—and he was doing a damned good job of it too. Rochelle felt her jaw and hands clench. "I'd kill him," she hissed.

"That's what I thought—"

"I'll tear his spark out!" Rochelle leapt to her feet, amazed at the revelation inside her. "I'd rip him apart slowly, part by part, and let him feel how I felt when that bastard killed Ironhide!" Rochelle all but quivered in her bloodlust, every part of her body wound tight. She transformed into her Autobot form, green eyes glowing madly. "I'll kill them! Those bastard Decepticons won't know what hit them!"

Sideswipe gave an approving grunt. He tossed a glance to the others. "Now, I don't think anything will stop her."

Rochelle prowled across the floor impatiently, lights dim. "When are we fucking leaving? I want them now! I am tired of these mother fucking Decepticons on this mother fucking planet!"

"Unfortunately," Mirage commented, crossing his arms, "you will have to wait another two hours. We do not lift off until then."

Rochelle prowled back and forth on the floor, unable to take the suspense. Not soon enough for her tastes, morning slowly dawned across the sky. Finally, the Wreckers set the shuttle in motion, and they lifted off.

They all retreated back into the chamber they were meant for, and Rochelle felt a jerk from inside Optimus's cab as the shuttle part disengaged from the main shuttle. She had a curious sensation of falling before there was the clear shock of hitting the water. Things slowed as they sank.

The Wreckers transformed first. With a sharp blast, the shuttle part was ripped open. Rochelle transformed, TurboBooster around her shoulders, and started swimming as water gushed into the compartment.

Then, just barely managing to control her shriek, Rochelle heard a large explosion, and stared in horror from beneath the surface as flaming meteors fell from the sky, glazing in her sight—the XANTHIUM! It had been blown to bits!

She quickly caught the lagging Wheelie and Brains in her arms as the dangerous, burning ship parts fell in the water around them. Then, Optimus's hand caught her and brought her in close as they swam away from the debris that sank around them.

Rochelle didn't know how long they were underwater—it didn't matter to her, as an Autobot she wasn't REQUIRED to breathe, just like the rest of them weren't required to breathe. But not soon enough for her tastes did the shorline come to sight and Optimus deposite her and her hitchhikers on the sands of a beach.

"My warrior goddess!" Wheelie proclaimed immediately as she set him and Brains on the ground. "I'm forever yours!"

"She got me too," Brains echoed.

Rochelle however, didn't pay them much mind, transforming back into a dripping wet human as she wrung her short bob cut out. Her black sports bra stuck to her like an extra skin in the summer heat, and she cast a disdainful glance to her extra-heavy steel-toed boots that were weighted down with water. The same went for her baggy, camoflauge cargo pants—they rode low around her hips because they had soaked up so much water.

Optimus wasted no time, but looked towards the way Chicago was, proclaiming, "Autobots! Roll out!"

Rochelle slipped inside his passengerside seat, heart thumping with the urge to destroy. "I wonder if Sam ever got that Decepticon off his wrist," she stated blandly to Optimus.

"I do hope so," was his only response.