Eh, why not? Enough of these were swimming around in my head for a part two.

oOo

-Carly-

"I'm what?" the pretty blonde girl finally managed to squeak out. She'd been opening and closing her painted mouth in a manner quite similar to a fish for the last few minutes.

"You honestly didn't think there was a reason you missed your period?" the doctor asked, in a kind tone of voice.

"I thought it was stress!" she cried out. "I can't be pregnant! My parents will kill me!"

The doctor tried to calm her down, but at that point Carly wasn't listening. Why oh why had she let Spike, of all people... he wasn't even her age! And he was nice to her, but she was more interested in the Autobots than any of the Witwickys.

Including the one that was now growing inside of her.

"What am I gonna do?" she moaned, bringing her hands to her face. Her parents would disown her if they found out she had sex before she was even married-

Wait...

-Arcee-

It horrified her to find out.

Their species wasn't as prosperous as it once had been, and she knew it. They all knew it. It was a product of war. That was why she had left Elita-One's squad to join Ultra Magnus's and see the universe why she still could.

And now as they flew over what was left of Cybertron after Unicron's attack, she shivered at the memory.

She had left. She felt like she should have been there for them, but what would she have done? It was illogical and she knew it, but she couldn't help but feel regretful as she looked down on the remains of her home. Kaon, Iacon, Dimethicone... they were gone. They were all gone.

And with them, countless lives. Elita-One, Moonracer, Chromia, Flare-Up... all the other femmes. Gone.

"I'm..." she murmured to herself sadly, with realisation. "I'm the last femme... the last one..."

-Raul-

"Raul, right?"

The hispanic boy turned with a harsh glare on his face, his default expression, before his features softened. He kept forgetting he wasn't in New York anymore. Man, why had he let Tracks talk him into visiting Oregon?

"Yeah?" he answered the girl - Carly, he had heard her be called. "What's it to ya?"

"Well, if you don't mind me asking..." she blushed slightly. He looked so angry all the time and she felt bad for prying, but she had to know why. "Tracks said you were living on the streets when you met?"

"That's none of your business!" he snapped defensively.

"Now, Raul," a third voice, one with a calming influence on the boy, came into the conversation. "Is that any way to talk to someone who wants to be your friend?"

"She doesn't know me!" Raul exclaimed. "Sure she's friendly now, but what about after she learns about me, huh? Then what?"

"Carly isn't going to judge you, you know," Tracks knelt down, saying this in a lower voice so that the confused girl couldn't hear. "She sees such things within the Autobots every day that she visits."

"I've never told anyone before you..." Raul began, looking sheepish. "It's not easy, man, being gay... Even my own papá and mamá didn't want me..."

"I know," Tracks placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But give Carly a chance."

Raul sighed, turned to face the blonde girl, and told...

-Wheelie-

He had two creators, a mech and a femme, which was rare in a time of war, but of course he was too young to understand that. His mech-creator had named him Wheeljack after an old friend, but the designation had never stuck. His femme-creator called him Wheelie for short. That name stuck much better.

His femme-creator was fond of singing little rhymes to him. He remembered that clearly, remembered her calm, pretty features as the rhyming words flowed from her painted mouth.

It was the last memory he had of either of his creators before the ship they were on, a ship on the way to a planet called Earth, to help out the Autobots that were fighting there, crashed onto the strange planet called Quintessa.

He hid, frightened, as the natives of that planet found and took prisoners - his parents included. He followed them, discreetly, watching as they tried the prisoners. Innocent or guilty, the result was always the same.

At first, he contemplated just letting the Quintessons find him. It almost wasn't worth living without his creators. But that wasn't what they had taught him. All the rhymes he had heard had taught him to stay alive, to survive!

And, perhaps to keep his morale up, perhaps to remember his beautiful femme-creator, he never used anything but rhymes after that. He would avenge his creators someday. He would make them proud of him.

-Perceptor-

She had been sparked before the war, when femmes were basically glorified prized-possessions. Her creators had told her there was more to it than that, but she never saw the point. Her interests never were in social standings or handsome mechs or whatever it was that pretty femmes were supposed to fret over.

Her one, true love was science. It always had been. She had a passion for learning which was frowned upon by her creators, but nothing they or anyone else did could squelch it.

It was a miserable existence for awhile, not having anyone to share such joys with, until she met a young engineer who agreed to reformat her into a mech form.

She had heard of such procedures. They were extremely risky, and illegal at that. But as it were, femmes weren't permitted to attend the Science Academy, or really anything else. So one night, when her creators were both in recharge, she left.

At first it had been hard to fit in with the other mechs, unused to speaking like one, and rather using the upper-class accent that most femmes and those from the towers used. Luckily, it was easy to just pass oneself off as a tower mech rather than a femme!

Vorns later, she - or, now, he - was drafted into a war he really wanted no part in. He wondered if his creators had ever wondered what had happened to their daughter Perceptor.

But there was no sense in wondering such things now.

-To Be Continued?-