Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. New story arc is going to be complicated with the number of mechs and femmes in it and the story itself and I will try to post it without too many time lapses. Starts NEXT chapter.

Set ADD STORY TO STORY ALERT to know when the next chapters are posted. This is a different fic even though it is a continuation of version 1 (not required reading but enjoyable and funny all the same). All the alerts have to be set here too.

Thanks to Dragoon-Yue for parts of the addicted to humans. Onward to having plans set in place before you need them.


Inside the main Autobot hanger on Diego Garcia Island, Prowl noted the assembled bots frown or groan as he continued reading the assigned duties list. "Every tropical storm requires extra effort and time. The schedule is adjusted to ensure all personnel are inside and secure well before the approach of the first wall."

"You slagging promised that last time," Ironhide ground out. The black armored mech took a step closer, his hip joint hydraulics hissing as he moved.

"And we still had to rescue boats, on base personnel including one couple who thought it would be a good time to mate on the beach when it was deserted and two idiots who went surfing!" Hound added, his tone more humored than upset. The green armored scout enjoyed the wildness of earth's weather almost as much as its varied land surfaces.

"Those situations were dealt with and all human personnel warned against any repeat performances," the second in command stated then silently reviewed the next section as he didn't remember the list being that lengthy when compiling it the day before.

"And on the next page?" Sideswipe asked, when he hesitated.

"A continuation of a different list," Prowl stated, his optics spinning in tighter. "It reads, "You know you're addicted to humans when:

16.You are giving them a Cybertronian education per orders then bragging to every bot, that will listen or you manage to corner, how good they are doing and how much you enjoy being their teacher.

17.You wonder what they would look like as an Autobot, Dinobot or Aerialbot.

18. You have to remind yourself that they're made of flesh, not metal with a spark and internal comm system.

19. You're hyper aware of the fact that they're made of flesh. *Ratchet, Red Alert, Bumblebee, Ironhide

20. You're more afraid of their femmes than your own. *Mechs not named to save their dignity

21. You understand and copy their culture, including accents and mannerisms, overriding your native Cybertronian one. *Skids, Mudflap, Bumblebee and Hound

22. You carry an assortment of pain relieving medications, antiseptics, and bandages in a first aid kit at all times using the excuse you are simply being practical.

23. You know more about their physiology then their best doctors and often lecture said professionals on how to do their jobs. *Ratchet

24. You are jealous of the time they spend with their laptops, music players or cell phones.

25. Everything designed or made comes in two sizes – Autobot and human, using the excuse it's for the smaller bots even though Arcee, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Cosmos, Brawn, Wheelie, Skids and Mudflap have more advanced built in tech.

26. Your calendar includes their birthday, medical checkups, all major holidays and personal appointments. *Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Ratchet.

27. You thank Primus for bringing them into your existence.

Prowl stopped, skipping the last entry. "Please bring any further copies to my attention." He folded his fingers inward, closing the front of the datapad. Logic computed reading the entire list while his processor refused, protecting their sparks. 'They already know the last entry, no reason to remind them of it,' he processed.

28. You curse for how short their life spans are compared to yours and how fragile their existence is.

216. Do not underestimate the length humans will go to in their paranoia, beliefs or fears regarding our existence and those associated with us.

"Looking for a girlfriend?" Mikeala teased Wheelie. The blue mech stood nearby, staring at the car images on her laptop.

"Looking at race cars. Trying to figure out why Jazz would chose one of those bright painted eye sores," he grumbled, hopping down and rolling across the floor to where she sat on the bench. "How long they going to keep us in this jail?" He looked over towards the main door then the glass windows with all the blinds down and closed.

"It's a guest waiting room and Nellis Air Force base is not cleared to know about you guys except for a select few," she gently poked Wheelie in his chest plates.

"My next alt mode is going to be a chainsaw. I can cut through any problems," he grumbled, sitting on his little aft and folding his arms. His extended optics continued to scan for any threat.

"And Jazz's old alt mode is discontinued. The Pontiac brand got rid of the Solstice, his shape. Might draw unwanted attention," Mikeala tried distracting him, uneasy herself as the waiting continued for their friends to return.

"And an Italian race car isn't noticeable?" He quipped, focusing on her.

"Point. But he wanted a DeLorean and that alt mode is specifically is against the rules," she reminded.

"Everything fun is against the rules. Arcee is inbound," he announced, transforming into his remote control truck shape. In under a minute, Mikeala had the laptop closed and in her pink backpack and Wheelie tucked under the other arm. She stepped out, nodding towards the motorcycle and its holographic rider. The rider waved at her, climbing off the bike and entering the waiting lounge and out of view before dissolving into a thousand shimmering lights.

"Short ride. Silverbolt is late. We have instructions to wait in a side hangar and away from the soldiers. Scientific advisors are to meet us there for a short conference," Arcee's voice echoed in the riding helmet. Wheelie was strapped behind the seat before they rolled out, Mikeala appearing to be driving. Wheelie hung onto the bungee cords with both axles as Mikeala tried to relax with Arcee's high speed. "She is a Transformer and will not drop me, run me over or crash into anything. Yah, Mikeala, keep telling yourself that. I'm safe even as that speeding truck is heading our way. Oh man!" she closed her eyes, gasping as they swerved out and around, nearly touching the pavement before balancing.

"Road hog!" Arcee yelled as she raced away. They rolled into the hangar and Mikeala hesitated to get off. "What's wrong?" Arcee whispered. "Do you know them?"

"No, and I'm not sure I want to," she said. "If those are scientists then I'm Ratchet's new sparkmate. Hey," she giggled as the bike under her nearly tipped over as it shook. The men turned, frowning at them.

"Are you from Diego Garcia girl?" the front man asked, his scared face seeming more menacing with his aspy tone. His black suit displayed no identification and he moved with the grace of a fighter, heels up, angled for attack from any direction.

"Yes, I am," Mikeala replied, staying close to Arcee.

"Where is the other? The boy?" he demanded.

"Be here any minute," she answered without specifying. A familiar engine roar approached. Bumblebee, in his yellow and black striped Camaro alt mode rolled in. Sam hopped out the second he stopped, grabbing her in a hug. "Hey beautiful."

"Careful Sam. Those men are trouble, no, don't react," she whisphered as she nuzzled him. "Bee and Arcee can protect us."

"You two, over here. Have questions to ask," the man stated as his dark haired silent companion placed two large silver transport cases on the table.

"You can ask us right here," Mikeala challenged, not wanting to approach. The man narrowed his eyes, one hand sliding his jacket edge back to reveal a holstered gun.

"That was an order child. You have to obey us, now get over here."

"I'm calling for backup," Arcee whispered then quieted as two more men in black suits walked in from outside, causing the teens to move towards the front of Bumblebee's alt mode as they approached, their hands moving towards their holstered guns. Every human turned towards the doors as two more vehicles rolled in. Jolt and Firestar, their holographic drivers keeping the image of normal earth vehicles.

"You, out!" the first man commanded. "Private conference," his hand rested on his gun grip.

"Not anymore," Firestar stated, beginning her transform. "You will not torture our friends," she snapped as Jolt, Bumblebee and Arcee transformed up into their bi pedal modes. Her blaster shot knocked the cases off the table, breaking and spilling their contents. Vials of liquids, needles and plastic tubing fell out.

Bumblebee grabbed Sam close as the man grabbed Mikeala, pinning her arm behind her as he backed up. The main man got red faced, yelling up at the Transformers. "Not torture, saving them! Those vials hold a serum to make them forget. Return them to normal lives away from you."

Mikeala watched the distress on Sam's face as Bumblebee backed away, holding him. The others had their weapons out, targeted on the men and their guns.

"Nobody leaves this hanger without the serum injection or in a body bag. Your choice," the man stated.

"Your terms are acceptable," Arcee growled, weapons clicking to show their readiness.

"Don't worry Sam," Mikeala said as Jolt charged both his energy whips.

"Shut up," he growled, twisting her arm tighter. "We are in charge here. Tell your alien buddies there to back off. This will all be over shortly."

She took a deep breath, "Jolt, med mouse Phoenix one," and closed her eyes, expelling her breath. The blue mech snapped his whip at their feet, the electrical current blasting through their bodies. The Autobots yelled as both their heartbeats stopped, their bodies toppling to the floor. The men stared, too afraid to move.

"NO! Mikeala!" Sam screamed, pulling against Bumblebee's grip.

Jolt bent over her body as Arcee rasied a fist to hit him. "What the slag! You offlined her!"

"Energy can bring her back," he said, blue energy crackling around his fingers as he tapped her chest with one armored finger. Her body arched, her heartbeat stuttering before stopping. Again, he touched her, the charge increased slightly making her body arch. The heartbeat sound was clear as Bumblebee played the steady rhythm over his speakers. He released Sam as the men were cornered at the other end under Autobot control.

She groaned, her eyes fluttering open as they let Sam kneel by her.

"Hey, how do you feel?" He asked, holding her head still with his hands.

"Slagged," she groaned, closing her eyes while folding her fingers around his hand. She blinked, feeling something wet touch her face. Sam was still leaning over her, his tears falling.

"Why?" He asked.

"I wouldn't want to live not knowing you," she answered, her own eyes tearing up.

Bumblebee played a "ahhhhh" sound then helped Sam brace her to a sitting position. A small cleaning cloth appeared out of subspace, the size of a bath towel. Arcee strode over, scanning them both and uplinking to Autobot command as she shut the hangar doors.

"What is Phoenix one?" Arcee asked Mikeala, relaying the scans to Ratchet.

"Medical field protocol. Medics can override any bot; even Optimus has to obey when that level of command is given. That is my word choice. They can refuse but almost never do. Ratchet programmed Jolt to give shocks to restart human hearts when they are down. I used it to stop ours."

"You explain to the others," Jolt begged. "I don't want to be stasis locked or offlined for obeying my programming. And next time, tell me its there!"

"I could say I burned my arm on the stove," she groggily suggested looking at the scorch mark his whip energy had left.

"NO!" they all shouted.

"Ratchet will know my energy pattern and Autobots do not lie. You are one of us remember?" Jolt huffed.

"He says to use cold water to cool it then dry bandage until he can check it himself," Arcee added.

"You're talking to him?" Sam asked, helping lift Mikeala to her feet. She wobbled before a yellow armored braced her.

"He and the others are inbound on Silverbolt. They were to meet us for a ride back to the island," Arcee reminded. Bumblebee transformed, Sam helping Mikeala inside to rest as the seat reclined. She drifted into sleep, her hand in his as they waited. Ratchet rolled in, transforming once the door was shut, optics scanning them before examining the spilled cases. His snarl woke her.

Ratchet pounded a metal fist in to the concrete, smashing the batch he had been examining. "This would have killed them, too concentrated a dose. Lesser and any memory loss would have been transitory. There is no way to mind wipe a human without extensive damage. Those fools were severely misinformed. Am I the only qualified medic on this planet?"