Sorry for the late update. I just needed a little break.

Anyway, I don't own Transformers. Never have, never will. Enjoy and, as always, REVIEW….!

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Mikaela's fingers were curled around Ratchet's wrist as he tried to guide her into her chair. Her feet screeched across the floor and her fist beat against his arm, but his grip did not slacken.

She looked and felt like a little girl fighting her mother over something she wanted at the store. Minus the wailing and crying, although she was quite tempted at this point.

The chair groaned under her weight but did not break. It was one of the many Cybertronian sized apparel in the base, but Mikaela felt as if it made her stand out even more. As she sat, she tried to toy with her fingers and then shifting uncomfortably.

Ratchet sat down beside her and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "don't make a scene."

"No problem, doc bot," Mikaela muttered back, winking. Her optics were scanning the area, seeing that there were only four other chairs in the room, each seating a different mech or femme.

Sunstreaker sat in one, slumped down, looking pissed and amused at the same time, if possible. To his right, Ironhide, looking like Ironhide. Arcee, sitting proudly in one chair even though the chair was almost too big for her. Next to her, one of the Chevy twins. Mudflap, Mikaela guessed? She hadn't seen any of the others in such a long time.

In the center of the circle, another human sized chair. Mikaela had to lean over to see who it was, part of her praying that it wasn't Trina.

It wasn't. It was another woman, older than Trina, her red hair curling around her face. Her legs stuck out of her white dress as she crossed her legs, and she had a folder stocked with papers in her lap.

Mikaela sat back and scoffed.

"What?" Ratchet said softly.

"Where's Trina?"

"You want to see that femme? After what she said to you?"

Mikaela's optic ridges rose, and she crossed her arms, staring at Ratchet. "What? Has Optimus pulled his head out of the network long enough to gossip with you?"

"More like report," Ratchet waved his hand as if it wasn't important. "He knows what's going on around here. He has too."

"And yeah, so do I."

Ratchet's mouth opened to testify, but he closed it and directed his attention to the woman, who was standing up, papers folded under her arms. She stared up at the mech's and femme's with such pity that it made Mikaela sick.

"Thank you all for being here. My name is Kyra – surely some of you have heard of me?"

Nope. Mikaela hadn't. But she wasn't about to say that out loud. Ironhide's sudden snort and slumped posture depicted her own words just fine.

"It's truly an honor," Arcee muttered, not taking her eyes off Mikaela. Mikaela suddenly felt very, very small. She dwarfed Arcee with ease, but the air of deadliness surrounding the other femme made her nervous.

"Now, why don't we start of with the basics. Each other name's," Kyra dropped the papers in the chair and stared up at the Cybertronians's, arms crossed.

"Do we really - "

Kyra's glare said otherwise.

"Mikaela Banes."

"Ratchet. Surely you know me."

That earned some snickers.

"Ironhide."

"Arcee."

"Mudflap."

"This is ridiculous."

Sunstreaker's words had everyone nodding their heads in unison. Kyra placed her hands on her hips and stared long and hard at Sunstreaker, who didn't seemed the least bit fazed. In fact, he seemed amused that fleshy would dare stand up to him.

"Whatever," Kyra busied herself by grabbing papers and shuffling through them angrily. She looked up and said, "now you all know that we have a new Cybertronian in this room - "

All these stares were making Mikaela really uncomfortable….

"- And that she's having trouble accepting her fate. The reason I wanted you all to meet her was to convince her why she is better off living as one of your kind."

"I've already met her," Ironhide rumbled. "She's the Witwicky boy's mate."

It was like being slapped in the face. Mikaela's cooling fans switched on and she felt her fist clench.

"Mikaela? Do you want to talk about that?" Kyra's gaze had gone soft and she stared up at Mikaela as if she actually cared. "Anything regarding your relationship with Sam? We're all here to listen and provide the correct guidance."

"No."

Kyra finally seemed to surrender to the fact that, yes, none of the others wanted to hear about Mikaela's sappy human life and screwed up relationships.

Kyra turned and began to speak again, her back to Mikaela. Leaning over, the silver Cybertronian whispered in Ratchet's ear, using her hand to block out Kyra's senseless rambling.

"I hate this."

"I know."

"….about the advantages of being a Cybertronian," Kyra concluded, slapping her hands together and turned to Mikaela. She looked back and forth, at Arcee, who shrugged, and Mudflap, who looked bored. "Anyone?"

"No more disgusting lubricants," Sunstreaker spoke immediately. Of course he was the first to speak, Mikaela thought. Of course he was the first to diss the human race, and the one to do it right. Hail to the Chief.

"Stronger," Ironhide added. "No unnecessary parts. Your body is a living weapon with a multitude of modifications and enhancements. You sight and sense of hearing and smell if acute. Your intelligence is beyond anything the planet has seen."

Great. She was an Ironhide, apparently. Fully converted. And he hadn't even mentioned aging, yet. Hadn't mention that "aging" didn't exist anymore, that she would outlive everyone. Trina, Sam, her father, Fisher...any human she had ever know. And, considering her background, she had known a lot of humans.

"And that's suppose to make me feel better how?" Mikaela said.

"Think about it. What human would want to mess with these?" Ironhide raised his arms, showing his cannons.

"Any human looking for a death wish," Kyra added bitterly. She was rocking back and forth on her heels, looking as if she wanted to say something.

"Yo can finally kick Decepticon aft," Mudflap. "Ya know, az' apposed to before, when ya couldn't do jackshit and…."

He trailed off, earning him a punch in the side of the helm from Arcee. She had been unusually quite, taking more time to analyze Mikaela. She was the first Cybertronian femme Mikaela had seen, and she wasn't about to pass up a chance to speak with her.

"What about you, Arcee?" Mikaela said, raisin her optic ridges and leaning forward, her chain groaning and creaking under the sudden change of weight. "Do you have anything?"

"Driving."

"You have more…" Mikaela waggled her finger.

"And flying, for some of the lucky ones. But I see you're a ground vehicle so…" she shrugged.

"And...and..." Mudflap tapped his chin with his finger. "Oh, ya, and no more sunburn."

"What the hell..." Mikaela began.

"Wonderful!" Kyra piped in, her heels clicking against the floor as she clapped her hands. "Isn't this great? I knew you guy's would come up with something!" she clapped again.

She wasn't doing a good job of imitating Trina's peppy demeanor. In fact, she was a disaster and Mikaela found herself disliking the woman with every passing minute.

"It's not like I don't think about it," Mikaela began, sighing. Each mech and femme' leaned in to listen. "I mean, my human life was pretty good. Not great, but good. I mean, I had enough to get by. But…."

"You like this life better?"

"Let me finish, Sunstreaker," Mikaela snapped.

Sunstreaker ignored her. "Admit it, Banes. You value your new life more than your old. Come now, don't be ashamed. We're all here to listen and provide the correct guidance."

Kyra didn't seem to understand why everyone was snickering.

Mikaela watched each mech and femme as they seemed to be staring at her, various expression plastered on their faceplates. They were, metaphorically, waiting with baited breath, and Mikaela wasn't about to disappoint them.

"Yes. I guess I do."

Beside her, Ratchet slapped his hand across his thigh. Kyra's eyebrows rose and her mouth pulled into a tight line.

"See. Clearly we are the dominant species," Sunstreaker boasted, slamming his foot down near Kyra. The human woman stumbled and nearly lost her footing, saving herself and grabbing onto her chair.

"Whoa…whoa…" Mikaela raised her hands in a placating gesture. "We aren't going into the whole humans vs. Cybertronians's thing. The Brotherhood had already accomplished that. And we aren't the Brotherhood, right?"

Several nods.

"Right…so," Mikaela looked down at Kyra. "I'm sorry. Sunstreaker was being a douche."

"He's always been a 'douche'," Ratchet added.

"I heard that, doc bot."

"You were meant to."

"I think that this meeting is coming to an unexpected conclusion," Kyra laced her fingers together, shooting Sunstreaker a glare before gesturing towards the door. "You know the way out."

"Kicking us out now, fleshy?" Sunstreaker was the first to stand, stepping over Kyra and thudding towards the door. "Very courageous of you."

He opened the door, and was gone.

"Primus help that mech," Arcee shook her helm. She hopped off her seat, her tire groaning as she rolled towards the door. She turned to Kyra, not towering over her like others, but simply able to reach down and pat her shoulder. "It was nice of you to put this all together, Kyra."

She rolled away, Mudflap following behind and only shrugging at Mikaela.

"Tell Optimus that I'm angry at him," Mikaela hissed as she and Ratchet made their way out the door. "He has to repay me."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Ratchet said, his eyes following the yellow corvette as it weaved through the hallway, dodging humans left and right.

Mikaela's lip plates pulled into a tight line as she followed Ratchet's gaze, a part of her wondering why she had agreed with Sunstreaker in the first place. She hadn't though about it, it was just like peer pressure all over again. Like when Bliss Taft – the stupid tweaker – had tried to convince her to smoke weed because everyone else was doing it. Mikaela had declined his offer and had left him in a state of depression.

This wasn't any different, she suspected. Except for her peers were a group of dysfunctional alien robots trying to get her to be someone she wasn't. To say something she would have never said in front of Sam or Trina or even Ratchet, for that matter.

Mikaela watched Sunstreaker without missing a beat and found herself cursing his name. Of course he had set the whole thing up, had played her like a fiddle.

Hail the Chief? More like Hail to the Douche.