"What do you see?"
Mikaela's optics were glued to the vidscreen, her mouth opened in a silent gasp, hands creeping up to cover her mouth. And all the while, Megatron, behind her, a hand on her shoulder, squeezing hard.
She had tried to forget about her father, tried to shut out his cries, his pleas for mercy as he was dragged away by some of Fisher's lackeys. She had almost succeeded in blocking him out completely and telling herself, convincing herself that a true father wouldn't turn his daughter over to a maniac.
How wrong she was. How wrong she was to believe that he was gone, taken away, her true father replaced by one just as identical in appearance, but bitter in heart.
No. None of that. Her accusations were faulty, wrong, and there he was, on the screen, sitting in a cell with his head in his hands and looking utterly miserable.
"Why is he in jail?" Mikaela felt stupid for asking.
"Why do you think?"
Of course. The answer was coherent. Her father, having put his trust in the Brotherhood in a failed attempt to help his daughter, had ultimately been caught and accused of being a backstabbing liar.
Which, of course, was true. But the circumstances were different this time, and Mikaela didn't think her father had phoned Megatron and given him a heads up on her location.
But Fisher sure had.
"Oh…Dad," Mikaela's mouth turned down in a frown.
Megatron flicked the vidscreen off and turned to stare at Mikaela, head cocked to the side.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you show me that?" Mikaela replied irritably, tapping her foot impatiently. She was already angry enough, and leave it to Megatron to spoil the rest of her day. "I already have enough on my mind…"
"Negotiation," Megatron reached out and stroked a claw down Mikaela's cheek. "A smart femme like you is sure to understand."
"What do you want from me? Money? I have plenty, but not on me."
"First," Megatron began ticking things off in his long talons, "I want you to cease you whining about your human years."
"I don't do that."
"Oh, believe me, you do."
"You don't know anything about me, so why judge?"
"I know plenty about you. I know, for a fact, that the poor human imprisoned by the Brotherhood is your father."
Mikaela didn't say anything.
"And I know for a fact that you would do anything, even risk your own spark, to save him," Megatron's sneer was vicious.
"Save him?" Mikaela spread her arms out wide and stepped back, intending to scoff but only managing a small, unconvincing laugh. "You want to bring my family into this, now? Bargain with my father's life?"
"I can assure you his freedom, as long as you do one simple thing for me."
"I don't want to hear it," Mikaela clapped her hands over her ears and began to walk, heavy footsteps echoing around the room.
Megatron's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, digging into sensitive wires and pulling her forward.
"Really, you have no choice," he shrugged conversationally.
Right. Because she never had a choice. It wasn't her choice to be captured, it wasn't her choice to be injured, it wasn't her choice to be thrown into another body.
It wasn't her choice to rob the memories of another.
Mikaela felt her spark hum darkly and her fist clench as Megatron, being who he was, did not let go of her wrist but instead pulled her closer.
"As long as it gets me out of this hellhole," she murmured, "I'm in."
"Good," Megatron released her.
"What are the terms?"
"Bring me the download tech, and I can assure you your father will be returned home safely."
Mikaela blinked, mouth opening in alarm.
"What?"
Megatron, sighing in annoyance, replied, "the download tech, femme. Honestly, are your audio receptors malfunctioning?"
They probably were, because Mikaela wasn't exactly sure what she was hearing. Ratchet had mentioned it plenty of times during her daily checkup, but she had never contemplated over the matter. All she knew, all she had been told, was that her brain – or what was left of it – had been frozen and sliced and transported.
End of story. A one time thing bound to never happen again, as Optimus had said. But lo and behold, here was Megatron asking for the directions to the procedure.
It appeared Optimus was wrong. Again.
Mikaela didn't want to contemplate over Optimus any more than she wanted to join Starscream's aimless revolution. But even when she tried to shut the topic out, it came back, inexorable.
And all Mikaela could do was stand there and listen to Megatron as he milled around the room, looking distracted and agitated, all the things that would sure lead to an insufferable beating.
"What do you want it for?"
"It doesn't matter. As long as it's mine."
Yeah, because the mighty Megatron had to be the one with the shiniest new toys, the one who had everything while others did not. Starscream had been mistaken. His selfishness would lead to his downfall as well as his arrogance.
Mikaela couldn't hide her disgust as she said, "why? So you can make more of me? Ruin other peoples lives?"
"With a few improvements, the technology could prove useful," Megatron crossed his arms, cold, calculating optics staring Mikaela down, making her feel smaller than ever before. "No matter. The important thing is if you agree with these terms."
Mikaela felt her throat go dry.
"Come now, femme," Megatron tilted his head to the side. "You wouldn't want to let your fathers fate rest in the hands of that dreadful organization, would you?" His tone changed, mocking. "What kind of daughter would you be?"
"I'm not a traitor. I won't betray Sam or Optimus or any of them….I can't."
"And here we go again…." Megatron's sigh was deep, and his previous composter returned, him pacing across the room and towards the vidscreen, back facing her, talons reaching out to brush across the screen. "I really don't like repeating myself, but you, it is unavoidable."
"Oh, no. Another 'past is irrelevant' speech? I've heard enough of those."
Megatron was ignoring her, fingers dancing across the screen to pull up a video. It was a news report, Mikaela observed, and one optic ridge rose as she watched the scene unfold before her.
The news reporter was having to shout through his microphone over the noise of the protestors. Rioters, really, since half of them were holding signs and screaming and the other half were making a show of throwing trash can's through window and smashing anything in sight.
The news reporter was talking and pointing, but his words were barely audible. But his word's weren't what alarmed Mikaela, no, it was what was transpiring behind him.
A group of protesters, or Brotherhood followers or whatever they called themselves, were driving by sluggishly slow, some seated in the back of the pickup truck towing signs and spray paint, each hooting and bellowing, and in that instant, as the camera zoomed in on the shot, Mikaela knew why.
A woman was being dragged behind the car, one end of a rope tied around her ankles, the other end being held by one of the Brotherhood followers. The car wasn't going fast, no, an average human could have ran faster than the vehicle was driving.
On the woman's forehead, the words Robo-whore were painted in bright red.
Mikaela wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She was forced to stare as Trina was dragged across the asphalt, screaming and crying and struggling, forced to watch until the car faded out of the shot.
The screen went dark.
"They hate us. They hate you. I cannot stress that enough," Megatron turned towards her. "Has that display not changed your mind? They will go after their own kind to achieve their goals," his smile was sickeningly sweet. "So, my dear femme, do we have a deal?"
Mikaela's optics focused on the ground, and finally, without looking up, she said, "we have a deal. But when you rescue my dad - "
"If I have to rescue your father," Megatron spread his arms wide at Mikaela's startled look. "I know you don't trust me, so why should my judgment be any different?"
Basically he was saying that there was no trust in the agreement. Who was to say she wouldn't double-cross him and go back on her word? Who was to say he wouldn't do the same?
"Yeah. Whatever. Just…if you…don't kill anyone when you go to…you know."
"I can't make any promises," he replied. "You have a month. I assume that joke of a medic will have documented the procedure on a data pad. You should know how to transport the information into your processors, since you know so much about how you work, and then send it to me. I'll have your father freed soon after."
Mikaela couldn't help but narrow her eyes.
"Not one thing regarding our agreement leaves your lips, do you understand, femme?" Megatron said, lowering his voice. "No one word spoken to that pathetic excuse for a mate of your, either."
"You know Sam?"
"I know him as the annoying pest who shoved the Allspark into my chest, therefore destroying whatever hope my race had of survival," he snorted. "It's not something I like to gripe about."
The dull silence that followed was unnerving.
"Humans…" Megatron murmured. "An even sorrier excuse for a species."
"Are you asking for another war? Human's versus Cybertronians?"
"There already is a war," Megatron winked. The motion would have been cute on anyone but him. "And I think you know what side you're going to choose."
Right. Because in any game, you choose the side that you knew would win.
Starscream dropped her off in somewhere in Nevada, letting her drive out into the wilderness, out into the desert where he transformed swiftly and landed in front of her, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt.
She backed up and transformed, just as his fingers reached out towards her.
"Don't touch me," she batted his hand away and he pulled back, pretending to be hurt.
"Rebellious? That's just how I like them…"
"Shut up."
Starscream looked as if he wanted to make a comeback, maybe even hit her again, but he slunk back, taking on that same, groveling look he always displayed when Megatron was around.
And, of course, he was faking.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to cause you any discomfort, Roadrunner."
"Do you ever shut up?"
"Only when I want to," Starscream straightened up and glanced at the sun, seriousness returning swiftly. "Megatron will be waiting. I must get back."
"Then go."
Starscream looked torn between transforming and blasting himself away as quickly as possible, or staying to taunt Mikaela some more. After a long moment, he inched closer to Mikaela, talons reaching up under his armor to pull out a small, black object.
It was a black box etched with markings and symbols. Starscream, looking back as forth as if Megatron would drop out of the sky any moment, grabbed Mikaela's wrist, slamming the object into her palm and then forcing he fist to close around it.
"What is this?"
In a low whisper, the Seeker replied, "you'll see. Put it up under your armor and don't open it until you're alone."
"What…" Mikaela watched as he stumbled away, practically tripping on his own feet, transformed, and flew away.
As Starscream became a speck in the sky, Mikaela stared at the black box, running her fingers among its smooth surface before shrugging and letting it rest under her armor.
She didn't want to open it now. She had had enough surprises for one day. With a sigh, she transformed back down, tires squealing and kicking up dirt.
She drove, and did not look back.