Author's Notes: Joy to the world, a new update! lol. Normalcy is so overrated. Being weird is so much more fun. lol. Thank you all for your reviews and critiques! I've spen a lot of time rethinking this stage of the story. Had I not changed it you would have all been subjected to several more chapter of Brea's self pity and tears and overthinking. Fun once in a while but very boring after a while. So there will only be a few more chaps of that. Even though the other way would have involved substantial amounts of Mech hugs. I know. I'm such a fangirl. So I will have to figure out others ways to incorperate the Mechs hugs. It won't be too hard.

Also, if anyone's been reading this and has been somewhat disapointed in how it's going (aka the Emo-ness) then I apologize and hope you will stick around. It will get back on track, I promise. Also, the amount of Mechs in the story will soon jump...like sky rocket. So if you feel Mech deprived, do not fear! They're coming. They're just stuck in traffic. Damn toll booths. And everyone knows Mirage doesn't carry change with him.

Phase Ten: Interview

Chapter Twenty

Brea quietly sat down next to Caleb, pulling her knees up to her chest and peering at the young man worriedly as Fixit and Ratchet continued their check up on Preston. Their poking and prodding seemed to agitate the man and several times he snapped at them. The two Mech would retort with a remark and continue their poking. Prowl and Optimus were speaking to Craig and Caleb's brothers while Annie and the two younger humans, Zoë and Izzy, were showing Wheeljack and Perceptor baby Becky who had awoken, quiet noisily, from a nap. Brea found it endearing to see both Mech with their very large and intimidating bulk fawning over the absolutely tiny baby human. Much to Becky's credit, she seemed just as curious of them. Whenever Wheeljack spoke and the lights adorning the sides of his helm lit up, she would giggle and clap. And so began the game of 'Let's Make the Baby Laugh'.

As all the chattering commenced, Brea found herself drawn to the dejected young man. She glanced at Caleb and felt her heart sink. He looked so very…remorseful. It took all her resolve to not simply reach out and touch him or to wrap her arms around his neck and try to comfort him. The desire was both advantageous and discerning. She kept her hands still.

"Is…everything okay, Caleb?" Brea asked cautiously, testing the water. "You look a bit distracted."

He didn't look at her and merely stared off into space. After a moment, he said, "I wish she'd stop looking at me like that."

Brea titled her head in confusion. "Who?"

"Kimberly." A wave of something passed through her, but she didn't know what. There was a flash of something there…but she didn't understand it. Brea looked at her feet instead. Indeed it felt strange to have seen how utterly…terrified Kimberly seemed to have been of Caleb.

"Why is she afraid of you?" She asked.

He scowled. "She's afraid of everyone," He replied before narrowing his eyes and turning away, "Just me especially."

"Even Zoë and Annie?"

"She's…not afraid of Zoë really, but she gets nervous around Annie," Caleb said. "As long as I've known her, the only people she seems to trust are Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. She only stays around us if she needs food. We've tried to cozy up to 'er but she runs off if we get too close."

The silence that fell between them was not quiet, rather it was sprinkled with the myriad of voices of those in the immediate area. It all seemed to contrast to how Caleb appeared; the sound of a giggling baby, quietly insightful conversations, and the irritated bickering of two doctors and their intolerant patient.

Brea bit her lip before speaking. "Sideswipe said…you attacked her once." Tthe moment the words left her mouth she regreted ever saying them. Caleb whirled on her and Brea recoiled in surprise, bumping into Preston and drawing his and the two medics' attentions.

"I didn't attack her!" He shouted, and the clearing grew silent as everyone glanced their way. Caleb didn't seem to notice or care. "It wasn't my fault they screwed her up! I didn't touch her! Even when they told me to! What was I supposed to do? I didn't want her; they just shoved her in with me and told me to….to…"

His flushed when he realized his outburst had attracted so much attention. His face scrunched together in a painfully ashamed expression that sent a jolt of something through Brea and he suddenly shot up to his feet, stalking off and practically broadcasting his enmity.

"Oi! Ceb!" Sean called worriedly, beginning to chase after his younger sibling. "What's the shoutin' fer? You alright?"

"Leave me th' fuck alone!" The boy yelled with surprising ferocity and disappeared beyond the trees. Brea was frozen to the spot staring off after the young man, in shock of what had just happened.

"Well…" Preston said next to her. "That was…exciting."

Wordlessly, Brea rose to her feet and started of after him, but was jerked to a halt when she felt metal wrap around her arm. Turning around, she saw Fixit shaking his head at her.

"Give him some space," He advised.

"But—!" Brea was cut off by a stern look from the Micromaster.

"No Brea," He said, "Caleb…has a lot of things to work out on his own. He'll come back when he's ready. He always does."

She turned around to stare off in the direction the boy had gone, hoping to catch a glimpse of him stalking through the trees, but there was no flicker of movement. She sighed and looked down at the ground, feeling ashamed for having brought up such a topic.

"I didn't mean to make him mad," Brea admitted guiltily. "I just didn't understand why Kimberly thought he attacked her. I thought Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were gonna shoot him the way they treated him…"

"I'll talk to them about it later," Ratchet told her. Maybe he was trying to cheer her up, but it came off more as a means to bypass the subject.

"Brea." Turning around at the sound of her name, she locked eyes with Optimus Prime who stood next to Prowl at the edge of the clearing side by side.

"Yes sir?" Brea asked, somewhat nervously.

"Would you please come with us?" He asked, "We would like to begin documenting your case and take your testimony."

Brea felt Fixit release her arm and give her an encouraging little nudge forward. She took a few hesitant steps, stealing one last glimpse towards the trees and felt disapointed when she did not see anything. She nodded in resignation. "O-okay."

"Ratchet has informed me you are quite fluent in Cybertronian," The baritone voice broke Brea from her thoughts and she glanced up into the masked face of Optimus Prime. He held her cupped in one hand, held close to his person while the dichromatic form of Prowl walked along side, his cool blue optics never seeming to wane from the hall way ahead of them. Brea hadn't been paying much attention to where they were going, and she vaguely hoped that neither chaparone had noticed; her thoughts had been trained on the paradox of Kimberly and Caleb. She felt a little put off that she had to leave to be questioned when all she wanted was to figure out what was wrong. Caleb's face, wrought with pain, was clear in her mind and it killed her to think of it. She wanted to comfort him, tell him it was OK, and somehow work him through whatever it was that made him so sad. She wanted to convince Kimberly and the twins that they were mistaken; Caleb wouldn't attack anyone. He wouldn't…

But how do you know? Something in her mind asked. Who are you to assume anything of these people? You don't know them, they don't know you. You're a stranger, an outsider, someone who has yet to find her spot within all of this…

She blinked for a moment before remembering herself. "Oh-! Yeah...I…kinda."

The large Mech's frame vibrated faintly as he chuckled. "I find it curious a Mech such as Xeon would ever consider such a thing."

"Y'know Fixit said the same thing," She replied. Both Mechs' optics glowed in interest when she responded and Brea felt a small leap of pride.

"The Emirate of Kaon has never been known to be kind to, please forgive my terminology, inferiors."

Brea rolled the word around in her mind. She'd heard it before, but its meaning was illusive to her. She felt embarrassed for having to admit her ignorance just after the small bout of pride, so meekly she said, "I, uh… do not know that word means…I've heard it before, but no one's ever told me what it meant."

The Mech was silent for a moment, seeming to choose and weigh his words carefully. "When someone is referred to as an inferior, it means primal, lesser, or ignorant. It has come to be known as a derogatory term in recent times; it is much like the word Barbaric in your language. But there is another word with the same denotation, but with different connotation. If someone calls you an inferior, they usually mean to insult you by claiming to be a higher being, more advanced. But if someone calls you a primitive, it is a more politically correct term to refer to someone of a lower rank or position or a being of a lower evolutionary scale. Understand?"

She nodded and sighed. "My vocabulary isn't very good, is it? There's a lot of words I still don't know."

"You will learn in time," Optimus told her genially. "I must admit it is quiet amusing to hear you use such advanced vocabulary with such simple grammatical structure."

"…I've been using big words?" Brea asked thoroughly unaware of that fact.

"Yes. When a Cybertronian is newly sparked, they utilize simple vocabulary subroutines with plain grammar until their processor is strong enough to accommodate higher communicational programs."

"Everything considered," Prowl added, "It's a large accomplishment for one of your kind to be able to speak Cybertronian at all. The pronunciations itself is quite a feat."

Brea blinked. Did he just…give me a compliment?

"…thank you?" She wagered.

It was less then a minute later that Prowl paused at a door and typed something into the key pad, just as Jazz had done when he brought her down to the Sanctuary, but he did not have to stick his finger into any jack port. The door slid aside effortlessly and Prowl allowed Optimus and Brea to enter first before following suit. The room was pitch black for a second before the lights kicked on, flickering momentarily before maintaining their brilliance.

The room was very unassuming. It was mostly bare save for a table and two chairs and a large computer council set into the far wall. As Optimus neared the table, he slowly lowered his hand and Brea quickly scooted off the blue palm, quickly righting her dress when it hiked up a bit too far for the comfort of her modesty. Prowl headed over towards the computer and began typing something into it. From the table, Brea could hear mechanical noises and humming as the computer powered up. The luminous screen hummed to life and rolls of Cybertronian text began to scroll across the screen, none of it making any sense to her. She heard a buzzing noise and looked up to see a small compartment in the ceiling open and a strange contraption descend from above.

Brea tensed and took a fearful step back, eyes never wavering from the strange thing. She felt something gingerly touch her back and she looked up to see Optimus gazing down at her.

"It's only a camera Brea," He assured her. She nodded and looked back to the machine, noticing the large lenses directed at her. It looked like a giant mechanical eye ball. Creepy.

"W-why…?" She asked.

"We record every interview we do for further study and for our records," Prowl said, "We might be able to use it as evidence as well if we are able to obtain facts and further evidence that concrete the claims and stories."

"Oh…okay."

"We're simply going to ask you some questions," Optimus told her in a manner that seemed to be meant to reassure her, "But if you don't feel comfortable answering any of them we won't press you."

"But it will help us greatly if you try to answer them all as truthfully as you can," Prowl added.

"I'll try," Brea replied. Optimus nodded, clearly pleased and glanced up at his fellow.

"Tell me when we are ready to begin," Optimus said as he rounded the table and took a chair. Prowl nodded, typing several more keys and stepping away.

"Video feed is recording," Prowl said. The black and white Mech took the second chair and sat. It was then that she realized both Mechs would be out of the camera's view and she fidgeted under the attention of their stares. "Case number Delta-4, subject 128-42. File no. 8. Recording."

"Would you please state your designation for the record," Optimus said, his voice loosing all warmth and becoming no-nonsense and businesslike.

She took a fueling breath, feeling it shiver with anxiety as it filled her lungs. "My name is Brea Taylor Morgan," she said, speaking her full name and trying to sound as businesslike as Optimus, hoping somehow it would help.

"And what is your age?"

"I am 17 years old."

"Could you please state your species and native planet?"

"I'm a human and I'm from the planet Earth."

"Can you recapitulate the events that lead to you being here on Cybertron?"

Brea was silent for a few moments as she went through that night in her mind. "I was abducted," she said bluntly, "I was walking home from my place of employment and it was late at night—"

"Night, or nighttime, is the period of time when your system's star is below the horizon, am I correct?" Optimus suddenly cut her off, adding in the foot note. It caught her off guard and she hurried to continue on.

"Uh, yes, that's right. Most humans sleep at night so there wasn't many people around."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes. I saw what I thought at the time was a car—"

"A car is a human transportation vehicle, am I correct?" Optimus interjected.

"Huh? Oh, y-yeah... I didn't think anything strange about it, until it started following me. I was alone in a city at night, so I thought it was some guy trying to jump me or something. When I tried to run, something hit me in the shoulder." Brea raised her hand to her shoulder and rubbed the place where she'd been struck. "It was like a tranquilizer dart or something, I started feeling woozy. I remember turning around and I didn't see his face, but I know it was a Cybertronian. There isn't anything on Earth that I could have mistaken him for. I woke up in a cage aboard a transport ship heading to Cybertron with several other humans."

"How many would you say?"

"Fifty?" She replied. "Give or take a few."

"And what was the nature of your captivity?"

Brea paused, running the question in her mind in an attempt to decipher it.

"I don't understand the question," she admitted sheepishly.

"What purpose did you serve under the care of your owner?" Optimus revised.

"I was a…" She hesitated, deploring the word pet, "…a domestic companion. But he had an ulterior motive for keeping me."

"Elaborate."

"The way it was explained to me was that...apparently, human hearing can pick up on things that a Mech can't. Like the sound waves of a mirror coating generator and stuff. It's very soft but when I'm near one, it's like a faint ringing. That's why he bought me. At least, that's what he told me."

"Why would your owner want you to be vigilant of these atmospheric anomalies? What is their significance?"

"Why else would he need a watch dog-er, human?" She scoffed. "He had something to hide. Something big."

"Do you know what he was hiding?"

"Specifically? He was hiding documents in his office."

"And what did those documents pertain to?"

Her voice was down right bitter, "The invasion of Earth, I imagine. They certainly had to do with Humans."

Optimus was silent for a moment and Brea waited patiently for the next question. She began to feel more confident.

"Why do you believe those documents held such information?"

"On several occasions I heard him speak with his associates who were heavily involved with the selling and trading of humans. They expressed need to keep everything underwraps, hidden. For no one but them to see or know. Suspicious behavior."

"Could you provide the names of these associates?"

"Off the top of my head? Uh, let's see…there was Swindle, Vortex, and someone named Onslaught who I heard Swindle talking to about someone from the investigation who was there and wanted to speak with him about the documents, I think…and someone named Ratbat…I've heard his name a couple times," Brea stated, her voice curious rather then accusatory as she tried to recall. "Swindle and Vortex were on the transport ship that brought me here too. Me and several others were separated from the bigger group and brought to a place where two Mechs named Tightwire and Leadline watched over us until we were claimed by our…owners. I was the last one of us to be picked up, but I can't remember the names of any of the Mechs who came to pick the others up…except for my old owner of course. And a femme called Viral. They called her Lady Viral."

"Who was your owner?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Brea?"

"I…" she looked down at the table top. "Do I have to say his name on record?"

"Not unless you do not feel comfortable about revealing him."

Brea was silent, mulling it over in her head.

"Why do you not wish to say his name?"

"It's not that I won't say it…it's just…"

Optimus waited a moment before prompting her to continue, "Yes?"

Brea didn't answer right away. "When he realized I knew what I knew and that…I was a security risk…he tried to have me killed."

Optimus paused, his optics seeming to dim and narrow slightly. "You fear he might try again if you exposed him?"

"…yes." When she looked up, Prowl's mouth drooped in a mild frown, but she ignored it.

"Is he aware that you escaped the attempt?"

"I…don't know for sure. I assume Swindle told him, but he might not have. He might've been scared he'd get shot, I don't really know how they deal with that kind of thing. But when he finds out I'm still alive he might try again. I saw everything that went on in that office for the past six months; and he knows I did. I know he hired Swindle to replace everything so it looked like his dealings were legit to fool the investigation; he did them for that Ratbat guy too. I remember that. I can't say what was exactly on the data-pads as far as actual quotes, but all I know is that they had to do with Earth and my people."

"If I asked you to disclose your owners name would you?"

Brea took a long fueling breath, attempting to mimic the breathing patterns her mother used whenever she did her yoga exercises. Brea slowly looked up into the Mechs' faces across from her, noting their somewhat anxious gazes. They needed her to say his name aloud, they needed her testimony. How strange, she thought, that she should suddenly find his name a burden in her mind. She was tired of it. Tired of being crushed under his shadow. He didn't own her anymore. It was stupid. She was free! Safe and protected behind these walls. She needed to get away from him, even the mere thought of him that in anyway projected that somehow, someway, he still had power over her. He didn't. He was far away, in a completely different city and yet somehow she'd been feeling as oppressed by him as ever. It angered her. She straightened her posture, closed her eyes, and slowly released her breath. Opening her eyes, she said in a lowly voice, "Xeon."

Both Mech's optics pulsed and Prowl looked very close to actually smiling. Maybe. It might have just been a trick of the light.

"Emirate Xeon was the Mech who bought and kept you?" Optimus asked. Brea noticed the somewhat strained injection of Xeon's title, something she purposefully negated in her answer. He was no lord, he was a fiend.

"Yes," she said simply, as if the fact meant nothing to her at all. "I lived in his tower, across from Lady Viral's estate. In the top room with the big window."

Optimus nodded, seeming very pleased. "Could you now explain how you can to have those scars upon your neck?"

Brea blinked. Somehow, she assumed once she had revealed Xeon's name to the camera, they would be done and she could go back to the Sanctuary, that his reveal was the climax. Her hand immediately reached up to her neck, but scolded herself and placed both hands folded before her. "The burns on my neck happened at the processing facility when Tightwire and Leadline tried to retag me. The used some sort of torch or welder to take off the shipping tag and the hot metal fell off and burned me."

"So it was an accident."

"Yes. However, to say it was an accident implies that they felt some remorse."

"And did they?"

"Only out of fear of their money. Damaged goods aren't very profitable, you see."

"And the injury to your wrist? Was that also an accident?"

Brea shook her head. She felt a knot form in her throat but she swallowed past it. "No. Xeon did this."

"He struck you?"

"Yes." Brea raised her hand and brushed it across her lips, "I had some bruised rips and a spit lip…my wrist was sprained really bad," she raised her braced hand as evidence.

"On how many occasions did your owner abuse you?"

"…physically? Only once."

"He only beat you once?"

"Yes."

"Could you say why?"

She suppressed a grin as she replied, "Because I wouldn't do what he said..."

"He beat you for disobedience?"

"That depends on what you consider disobedience," Brea suddenly challenged, "He beat me because I knew something he didn't want me to know and I told him that I wasn't going to cooperate and let him continue doing the things he was doing. From my perspective, I wasn't being disobedient."

"What would you call it then?" Optimus asked in mild puzzlement.

She smiled wickedly, "I was rebelling. I'm American, we're known for that."

His optics glowed brighter and she was almost certain she saw Prowl smirk a little. Maybe. Optimus's voice was amused as he tilted his head and said, "Oh?"

Brea crossed her arms and looked at them with an air of pride, "I don't know how much of our history you're familiar with, but The United States of America, where I'm from, was founded by rebelling against the most powerful empire on the planet, at the time, and declaring our independence from them. We called it the Revolutionary War. And we won; with lesser numbers, training, experience, and supplies. And our story is not all that uncommon. If there is one thing about the human race that Cybertron needs to understand is that we're good at being the underdog. Push us long and hard enough, we'll start to push back. Hard. Humans aren't meant to be slaves. We're free beings."

Optimus Prime regarded her for a moment and turned to Prowl, giving the stoic figure a curt nod. Prowl rose from his seat and strode over to the consul. The camera above retracted and Brea watched as it slid back into the ceiling.

"I think we have what we needed for now," Optimus said, a smile in his voice. "Thank you, Brea."

Brea nodded, getting to her feet. "So…when is this trial…thing supposed to happen?"

"Not for another three or fours orns if all goes well," Optimus replied. "I hope to gather more evidence between now and then. Your testimony will be a great asset to the case. I thank you."

"Ah, nah. No problem," As the large red and blue Mech rose to his feet, Brea looked up into his face and said, "I should thank you, really. Y'know…for doing all of this for us. I just wish there was more I could do on my end to help."

Optimus merely nodded. "You are doing fine. And I am more then happy to help your people. I would be a failure in my position should I turn blind optics and ignore your plight. It would go against one of the Primes' most upheld and solemn beliefs."

Brea furrowed her brows in confusion. "What's that?"

His optics flashed with some indiscernible emotion as he replied, "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

Author's Notes part 2: I know, I know...but I had to put it in SOMEWHERE. And Brea's starting to come out of her shell! Yay! As always, please leave your thoughts and critiques in a review so I may better myself as a writer. Plus it makes me happy! lol