A quick recap of what has happened so far, Mikaela thought.

Captured. Towed away. Forced to transform in a tiny, cramped room with gray walls and not a single accessory. Like she was checking into camp dull, minus fun camp activities.

And now, leaning in the room against the wall, legs pulled up against her as she hugged her knees and stared at the door, willing for it to open so she could make a mad dash out. Optics trained, unmoving, unblinking.

She could sense the cameras. They were watching her – whoever 'they' was – and she wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of watching her in action. She would give them a show. A show in which the main event was a Cybertronian femme sitting in the corner and brooding silently to herself.

She let her helm rest against the wall, and for the fifth time, she thought about her father.

Traitor. The words were like poison on her tongue, the pain of saying them almost unbearable.

She couldn't blame him for overreacting, though. Instinct before rationality, Ratchet had once said. It was one of the many things that separated Cybertronians from humans. Cybertronians thought, humans acted out of pure animalistic instinct.

Whatever. Ratchet was pretty good at spewing crap to no one, and even better at spewing crap to himself. It was who he was, and Mikaela didn't feel like trying to fix him.

Mikaela sighed and leaned back, the ceiling suddenly becoming quite interesting, and she found herself shutting her optics and wondering if Optimus was out there, looking for her. He hadn't called, hadn't let her know if he was okay and that got Mikaela wondering whether or not he was -

Voices. Coming from outside. One raised in a shrill cry, the other soft and understanding.

The traitor lives, Mikaela thought, and she found herself standing up, bouncing up and down on her pedes, ready to spring.

The door opened, and five men poured inside. Three guards, each with guns raised, presumably the same guns that had shocked her in the first place.

All the guards had the same look on their faces: We don't want to hurt you, but we will if we have to.

Her father entered next. And beside him, the Honored Caine Fisher himself.

Mikaela felt her confidence slide away and her shoulders sag as the two men, both with equally enraged expressions plastered across their faces, looked up at her.

Her father's mouth opened in alarm. Fisher's gaze was full of pity, and he shook his head sadly.

"You call this help?" Mikaela sneered. "Three men – three armed men – and a genocidal maniac? That's your so-called help?"

"Mikaela, I know that I forgot to explain, and that's my fault, but - "

"Oh, yes, you forgot to mention that you put your faith in the Brotherhood of Man? You simply forgot that one specific detail?"

"Honey, I'm sorry," her father pleaded. "I just wanted….I just wanted you back to normal."

"You don't want me like this?"

He straightened up and stared at her, trying to mimic Mikaela's own expression. Blank, drained of all emotion. But it only ended up making him look pathetic. Deep down – but not so deep that Mikaela couldn't see it – he was disgusted at the sight of her. Disgusted at the sight of his own daughter.

His daughter, the machine.

"I don't want you like one of them," her father's brow creased and he stepped closer, tentatively, as if Mikaela was going to step on him at any given moment. His hands were shaking and his voice was shaking and he just couldn't seem to come up with the right uplifting words. Finally, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry' won't cut it," Mikaela turned to Fisher. "And what, pray tell, did you promise my father? Support? A vow to take his daughters best interest to heart and shower her with constant compassion, love, and tender care?"

Fisher was silent.

Mikaela turned to her father, just as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Enough, Mikaela."

"You don't tell me what to do anymore," Mikaela stepped back so she bumped into the wall. Trapped, like a mouse, she was, with three guards all training their weapons on her, ready to deliver a mind-shattering jolt to her systems. Literally.

"I'm your father."

"Whatever."

"I just wanted to help. They said that they could fix you, that they could make you normal again…." Her father was shooting a suspicious glance in Fisher's direction. "Fisher, you know that I respect you and your organization -"

"Hate group," Mikaela snapped.

"- But we made a deal. You and me, man. I told you where Mikaela and I were going to meet up yesterday. I set this whole thing up for you perfectly!"

Mikaela barked a laugh, and her father winced at the sound. "And you actually bought Caine's shit?"

"Most of it," Fisher smirked and jerked hit thumb towards the guards. "Take him away. It's done."

Mikaela didn't want to watch. Didn't want to hear her father as he gasped and struggled against the iron grip of one of Fisher's lackeys, and since her hearing was a thousand times better than that of a human, she had to endure the sound and hear it with far more clarity than desired.

"We made a deal!" Her father shouted as he struggled, arms twisted painfully behind him.

"You made a deal, Mr. Banes. I, for one, did not," Fisher waved his hands. "Thank you, though. You're contribution to the Brotherhood is greatly appreciated."

Her father was dragged out into the hallway, kicking and struggling, swearing and begging for Mikaela's forgiveness.

And then there were three.

"What now?" Mikaela asked.

"Now," Fisher said, "we wait."

Twenty minutes later, the same guard was back. And he brought news.

"It's gone. We lost track of it after it left the city limits."

Mikaela didn't need to ask to know that the "It" was Optimus. She breathed an internal sigh of relief and waited for Fisher's reaction.

"Did you pursue it?"

"No, sir."

"Good."

Mikaela's optics flickered towards Fisher, and the handsome man, straightened out his white suit and glanced at Mikaela.

"What do you want from me," she finally said. "Money? Power? What?"

"It's none of your concern."

"Um, it kind of is. I mean, think about it. It's like a movie. You play the egotistical maniac who spews the purpose for his scheme to the damsel in distress, who, in this case, is the Cybertronian chained to a wall."

"Show some respect, creature."

"So I'm a creature to you?"

"You're something," Fisher's lips curled down in a nasty sneer. "You're not one of them, you aren't human. I know who you are, Mikaela. The first of what is soon to be a long line of mechanical slaves, human minds torn from their moorings and shoved into a mechanical body, duped into thinking that they are still themselves."

"I'm still myself."

A lie.

"You are not. Mikaela Banes is dead."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Denial will get you nowhere."

"And neither will hatred towards the Autobots," Mikaela's fist were clenching, and visions of this pompous little human, a smear beneath her pedes, were quickly overpowering her train of thought. "If you want someone to hate, hate Megatron and the Decepticons."

"You are all abominations. And you have a choice. Leave this planet, or lose whatever rights the government has considered giving you."

"You keep telling yourself that, man," Mikaela huffed and sat back down on the ground.

And that was the end of that. Fisher left the room, along with the guards, and the door was slammed back shut.

She still didn't know what they wanted from her.

Silence.

Mikaela found herself wondering if she would ever see the light of day again.

"Mikaela?"

Mikaela swatted at her ear and nearly leaped to her toes, but forced herself back down. She was being watched.

"Mikaela? What's going on? Are you hurt?"

"One question at a time, boss. No, I'm not hurt," Mikaela sighed. Physically, no, internally, yes. But she still responded flatly. "The Brotherhood has me."

"I heard."

"Fisher sent you a message? Why? What does he want?" Mikaela found herself pressing her body against the corner, trying to put as much space in between her and the camera's as possible. They had no idea what she was doing. She wasn't speaking, just sending signals from her processors, the signals intercepted, digitized, and sent out to anyone linked into the same frequency.

"He's not after you."

"So what does he want?"

He was silent for a moment, and Mikaela waited. She wanted him to speak, to hear his voice, something to hold onto.

"He wants me."

"He had you," Mikaela pointed out. "But you got away. They chased me, but they didn't chase you, apparently. Why?"

"You know why, Mikaela."

Right. Because taking her would be easier. Fisher knew that Prime would fight back, and that Mikaela, a fledgling Cybertronian new to her own programming, couldn't.

It seemed she hadn't given Fisher enough credit.

"He wants to negotiate a trade," Optimus' tone was grim.

Mikaela's fist clenched.

"What about N.E.S.T?"

"We have no idea where you are, Mikaela. And even if we did know, we couldn't just simply fight our way through. Not without casualties."

"But it's against the law to kidnap!" Mikaela exclaimed. "Just….just have Fisher arrested!"

"There are no laws protecting Cybertronians," Optimus went silent for a moment before saying, "and the Brotherhood is bent on keeping it that way."

They weren't property. They weren't vehicles. They were simply nothing.

Nothing.

Mikaela swore and slammed her fist against the wall.

"Do you have a plan?"

"I - ,"

The door opened.

"Shit. I have company," Mikaela watched as Fisher stormed in again. "I have to go."

"For the third time, let me go."

Fisher was ignoring her. He gestured towards the guards, and they began to circle Mikaela, guns raised.

"What do you want?" Sound tough, act tough. It was what Mikaela lived by.

She wasn't afraid, but at the same time she couldn't help but sent out a silent plea. She wanted Optimus storming in here, ready to play hero. The handsome prince who saved the princess from a horrifying fate.

But this wasn't a fairytale. It was a nightmare.

She changed her mind. She was afraid. But Fisher couldn't see that, would never see that because Mikaela wasn't shaking or crying. She was stoic, a statue. And Mikaela knew she was afraid, but didn't have the disadvantage humans had of feeling her stomach knot and her hands sweat or her eyes feel wet when she thought about what she used to have.

But that didn't mean she didn't feel.

"Who did you call?"

"I didn't call anyone," Mikaela lied.

The guards stepped closer.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Then how come there's an intruder walking around the compound, pretending to be someone they are not? Our energon detectors do not lie, Mikaela."

Key word: Pretending.

Mikaela beamed.

Then, her smile faded when she realized that there were no Autobots pretenders.

The door exploded, someone screamed, maybe it was Mikaela, maybe it was Fisher. Two guards dropped dead before they could fire a single shot, and above Mikaela, the roof was torn apart.

Gunfire. Screams. Metal. Mikaela threw herself against the wall and covered her head with her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fisher and the remaining guard run through the shattered doorway, covering their head with their hands.

Mikaela squeezed her eyes shut, the staccato of gunfire growing louder and louder, and in the background, the thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Human bodies.

"Fragging animals!" someone yelled.

Mikaela felt talons grip under her arms, and instinctively she lashed out, earning an angry grunt.

"Hold still, femme!"

Mikaela continued to thrash, kicking and screaming and doing everything she could to get away from those awful fingers that slid up under her armor, tickling sensitive wires and making her feel utterly uncomfortable.

She had yet to open her eyes. She didn't want to.

"Be grateful that we came to your aid, femme," Starscream whispered, his lip plates brushing up against her audio receptors.

She was pressed even harder against Starscream, and she had to resist the urge to kick him again.

For the second time in two days, she was taken away by her most hated enemy.