Another room, but this time ten times creepier. Water dripping from a busted pipe in the ceiling, the walls made of stone –understandable, since they were in a cave – a table big enough for Mikaela to sit, the doors practically blending in with the brown complexion of the walls. Even the table was uncomfortable, the edges of the seat feeling all prickly and wrong.

Or maybe it was the fact that Megatron was sitting right across from her. The only noise in the room were his demented talons as they tapped away at the surface of the table, the sound rhythmic and somehow making Mikaela even more nervous than she already was.

"I should have known," Megatron sighed and ceased his tapping, head tilting to the side to stare at Mikaela curiously. And it wasn't the good kind of curious. "My old partner, somehow brought back from the Pit. It was too good to be true."

"Yeah," Mikaela mumbled, trying her best not to meet his steely gaze.

"And you…" Megatron's talons screeched across the table suddenly, his optics flaring and that as when Mikaela assumed she was going to die. She could practically feel the rage flowing off his frame, each wave strong and prominent.

I am not afraid, she told herself. If Sam can face this guy, then so can I.

"I'm not her."

"Body stealer. Thief," Megatron hissed. "I should offline you right now."

"Be my guest," Mikaela waved her hand.

Yeah, death would be a release. A release from this cursed body. Mikaela closed her optics and waited, waited for him to leap across the table and strangle her or maybe, if she was lucky, shoot her head off right then and there and she wouldn't have to face another agonizing death.

But Megatron did not move and Mikaela took the risk, cracking open one optics and seeing him across from her, shoulders slouched, his usual unbalanced demeanor replaced with one filled with sorrow and disbelief.

"You won't, and I know why," Mikaela cracked a smile, leaning forward and resting her armor elbows on the table, propping her head up in his hands.

She was in control. She realized it, even if Megatron didn't. Her body gave her the advantage.

It sickened her and pleased her all at the same time.

"Before I decide your initial fate…." Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose, " just enlighten me as to how this happened. And make it quick, femme. I don't have time for any senseless squabbling."

"Processor transplant," Mikaela shrugged, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Or something like that."

"Impossible…" he breathed.

"Yeah, well, the impossible just became possible."

Megatron's talons screeched across the table again as he stood up, Mikaela's form stiffening as he walked around the room, coming to stand behind her and shoving his torn apart, metal face right next to hers.

"It's a miracle you even remember your original designation," he said causally. "Tell me, femme, can you still feel her?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb."

Mikaela bit her lip plates and tried not to look into Megatron's eyes. The homicidal tyrant was right, of course, she could still feel Roadrunner's conscious. See each memory as if they were her own, random flashes of another person's life, her life, originally, going by each and every day. She had more information on the Autobots and Decepticon's than ever before because she had the memories of a billion year old warrior who had, more than once, fought with both Optimus Prime and Megatron.

Knowledge was power, her father had once told her, and he was right.

"What do you want from me?" Mikaela whispered, feeling a cold talon brush up against her back. Like an icy finger down her spine.

"You. I want you."

"Well….you can't have me."

"And what's to stop me from claiming you as my own? Surely Roadrunner's memories prove that I get what I want."

"Roadrunner's memories also prove that you're a sick, demented freak!" Mikaela was up, knocking the chair aside and backing up against the wall. Her voice began to rise, steadily at first, and then turning into a shrill cry. "Countless lives have been lost because of your twisted arrogance, you and your posse have destroyed your own planet, and here you are, hitting on me like some desperate high school dropout who's never seen a girl in his life!"

Megatron didn't even flinch. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, tapping on his forearm, continuing his previous steady rhythm. It made Mikaela want to scream.

"You're just like her."

"I am her. In body. Not mind. So whatever sick scheme that's brewing, you can take it and shove it up your ass," Mikaela still had her hands raised, was still pressing herself against the wall, trying to put some space in between her and the monster in front of her. "I have a boyfriend, you know. And I'm not about to toss him aside for you."

Pretty brave words spoken by a femme who barely knew who she was, what she was and what she wanted. The words spoken were tranquil, but in her head she was screaming and screaming and screaming out of rage and hate and anger.

Megatron shook his head, and Mikaela was astounded at how calmly he composed himself. But she could see the way his talons scraped across his forearm as he resisted the urge to clench his fist, and she knew his patience was dwindling. He would snap.

"Your past, you're human past, is irrelevant."

At least he and Ratchet agreed on something. Except for Mikaela knew that Megatron had taken the meaning to a whole other level, and a part of her dreaded what she was about to hear.

"Not all of it."

"Yes," Megatron's voice was laced with steel, and Mikaela cringed back. "Your human past should mean nothing to you. Not now, not after what you have become."

"What are you on?" Mikaela asked, cocking one hip to the side.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Megatron began to walk, slowly, and Mikaela's optics followed his every move, his heavy footsteps reverberating off the walls. He was watching her, too, like a cat watching a mouse.

Except for Mikaela didn't know who was the cat and who was the mouse. Who would make the next move and who would be the shocked victim ready to go under the knife.

"Have you ever stopped to think, ever stop worrying about your pathetic little organic life teeming with glitches and malfunctions and thought about what you are and what you can do?"

"I know who I am."

A lie.

"I can see the insecurity in your optics," Megatron was in front of her now, towering over her but still reaching out and running a talon along her jawline, the feel like a feather brushing against her armor.

Mikaela stood, still as a statue, petrified, the feeling of fear itself utterly alien. Even then her processors were screaming the same question she had felt when she had been chained to that wall only a day ago.

If she was afraid, then why wasn't she afraid?

"Do you think that your little organic friends see you for you? Do you think they can fully comprehend the extent of your abilities?"

"Yes."

A lie? Mikaela didn't know.

"I know what the humans are like," he continued, and this time Mikaela saw the flicker of insanity behind his optics. "They feed off the fear of other, turn the most simple things into weapons, and, above all else, fear what they do not understand."

"Not everyone is like that," Mikaela countered. In her head, she was already ticking off a few. Trina. Sam. Lennox. Epps.

"They hate you, just as they hate us."

"They hate you because you're the ones trying to destroy their planet."

"This is a war, and in war, there will be casualties. Only the strong survive, and quite frankly, the humans don't qualify."

Mikaela couldn't believe that he hadn't exploded by this point. Hadn't jumped up and slapped her and strangled her or raised his voice. He was being infuriatingly calm about the whole thing, taking Mikaela's insults and countering them his own.

So obvious that she had the advantage. He wouldn't hurt her, but he had the power to do so much more.

Why wasn't he taking it? Mikaela had been presented to him as a gift, a gift he was refusing to open. He had already toyed with her, opened her up and dove into the very corners of her subconscious and seen everything. Left her lying exposed.

"The human race will survive," Mikaela whispered.

"You keep telling yourself that, femme. One day you'll realize that they are not a species worth saving."

"And that will be the day I die."

"Then you'll be living in fear for a while, femme," he replied coolly. "the Brotherhood of Man….is that the feeble little organization that wants to destroy our kind?"

"Not destroy, exile. Either that or strip us of our rights," Mikaela made a face. "Well, the Autobot's rights, since you and you're posse don't exactly follow the rules."

Megatron barked a laugh, ignoring her accusation. "You're on their list, femme. And I don't expect you to be able to hold your own against them, considering how weak you are."

"And you think that you would?"

"I know I would. See, I am not afraid of crushing the little maggots under my pedes, like some."

Mikaela snorted. "Are you saying that you'd destroy the Brotherhood for me? Give them one more reason to hate us?"

"Not just for you, but for all of us. Autobots and Decepticon's alike. It would knock some sense into those little fleshy brains of theirs."

"No. Destroy the Brotherhood however you like, topple the organization diplomatically or politically, but please…don't kill anyone."

"Ha! And you think the world would notice the absence of just a few of humans?"

"Leave me out of it, Megatron," Mikaela inched towards the door, the tyrant already coming closer and closer. "I don't want this. I don't want you."

"You still want Optimus?"

"I don't know…." Mikaela shook her head feverishly, "I don't know what I want."

Megatron stopped and stared, one talon twitching.

"Admit it. You want him," his face twisted into an ugly snarl. "You've always wanted him."

"Not me. Her," and then, trying to conjure up some image of her past, something that would ease the horrors of this nightmare, she whimpered. Sam's face came to mind, and she said softly, "I already have someone."

His hand shot out and curled around her shoulder, crushing the armor, talons digging into her internal wiring.

Sparks flew.

And then, the pain, shocking at first, then an explosion of sensations shooting from the tips of her metal fingers to her befuddled processors.

So shockingly real.

Mikaela couldn't help the scream that bubbled in the back of her throat, and she found herself clawing at Megatron's arm, gripping his wrist and pulling, but to no avail because he was to strong and she was just to weak.

"Please…"

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

He squeezed again, and this time Mikaela's knees wobbled so they banged together, the sound blending with her mewls of pain.

"Yes!"

"Good."

He released her, and she fell to her knees, clutching her shoulder. Energon seeped from the wound.

The door behind her opened, and in walked Starscream. Crept was more like it, Mikaela decided as she clenched her dental plates together, trying not to scream even though her whole entire arm had been engulfed in a vicious throb.

"Take her," Megatron watched as Starscream reached under Mikaela's arms and hoisted her up, slinging her over his shoulder so her face plowed right into his ass.

She did not struggle.

"It was nice seeing you again, femme."

"My name isn't 'femme'," Mikaela rasped. "It's Mikaela. Mikaela Banes."

"I always found human names so uninteresting." Megatron clicked his tongue and shook his head, and as the door slid shut, Mikaela saw him turn his back to her and say, "I guess that's another thing that will have to go."