"The stench of human sweat is utterly repulsive." Knockout frowned as he watched the group of humans attempt to best each other in physical workouts.

     Lennox had somehow convinced Sam and Miles to join him in a morning routine, Mikaela finding the struggle of her boyfriend amusing after she had woken up. The young woman had joined them after stretching and later Shane appeared from the temporary living quarters. The youth were marveling as Shane and William battled for the title of 'who could do the most one-handed pushups'. 

     For an older man, Mr. Faireborn had kept himself rather fit.

         "Then stop staring at their little party." Blurr chuckled.

         "That doesn't keep their stench from reaching my receptors!"

         "Would you shut the frag up?" Ironhide barked. "For Primus' sake, it's seven in the morning and you already have something to complain about?"

         "It could be worse," Ratchet noted, "and by that, I mean the humans could have been given separate rooms. We all know Mikaela would have joined Sam."

     The three other Cybertronians shivered at the suggested event they surely would have heard throughout the night. Ratchet didn't seem to have as much of a problem with it, but he was far better at hiding his disgust for things of the biological sort. He wouldn't admit to finding the idea of copulation repulsive with humans present anyway. He made note of it just to shut the other three up before anymore insults could be thrown. 

     Knowing Ironhide, it would have turned into a scrap fight soon enough.

         "Hey, Ironhide," Mikaela neared the sitting, transformed pickup truck, wearing a loose shirt and shorts supplied by those in Camp Ripley, "you think you could show me how to put together one of your canons today? You said something about a smaller one even I could maintain if it was propped up like a turret gun."

     Ironhide glanced toward the disapproving Ratchet, refusing to turn his helm in acknowledgement of the dangerous stare. He didn't think there was anything wrong with showing the human how to at least operate one. They were chasing after Starscream and Barricade after all, so she might as well know the basics. Ratchet was just a stickler for safety.

         "If we don't roll out when Prime comes back." Ironhide stipulated. 

     Said leader had left with Bumblebee to escort the shipment of much needed energon. Shane had questioned what it was exactly, to which Ratchet gladly explained in the simplest of terms. Their life blood was a constant need, which led to the second question of where and how they were able to find such a substance on Earth. Ironhide had mumbled something about emergency stores sent out in space before Cybertron lost its light. Optimus, who had not yet gone to act as an escort at that time, explained that some deposits were hidden long before humans had inhabited most of the Earth's surface. 

     Shane clearly wasn't fond of the idea of aliens having found Earth before even the cities had been built. Just from his disconcerted expression and the sudden interest in the floor, the Autobots could tell he was still trying to process such a revelation. No one blamed him for struggling with the mere existence of these titans, as he had only known of them for a mere day. The two teens and one adult had known of them for several months already and while Mile's had only known for a few weeks, he seemed alright with the notion of aliens and other planets.

         "Mikaela," Lennox called from the corner they had designated as their workout space, "we're going to the mess hall, are you coming?"

         "Yeah, just let me change into something." She called, turning to wave her goodbye to Ironhide before hiding in the attached room of the hangar. She came back out a few minutes later wearing her much tighter shirt and leggings she had dawned at the beginning of their mission.

         "She will not be going anywhere near one of your canons." Ratchet growled at the gunman.

         "The kid might as well know how to shoot one." Ironhide huffed in return. "It's not like she's any safer not know'n."

     The two other bots looked at each other with amused smirks, a private messaging system linked between them as they commented on the two older bot's squabble. Knockout was sure the medic would win, while Blurr bet Ironhide would train the human female anyway. A ration of energon was placed on the line, and the secret competition was solidified. The two stated they were going on a drive around the base when Ratchet stopped Blurr.

         "You need an Earth based vehicle mode." He told him. "Our transportation brings too much attention if we keep our Cybertronian alts."

         "Wish I could," the blue racer shrugged, "but the only one that'll fit my T-cog isn't a civilian owned buggy!"

         "Well, what is it?" Knockout was curious.

         "Bloodhound SSC." He stated in a quick, 'matter-of-fact' tone. "It's a little thinner than my home alt., but it would work. However, it's not exactly commercial."

     Ratchet nodded.

     A Bloodhound SSC, or rather its prototype, wasn't even passed the drawing board stage. There wasn't much on the project except that it was being designed in the U.K. A Rocket powered land vehicle with the goal of reaching 1,000 MPH. It held high hopes, and if Blurr was willing to take it on as an Earth based Alternative mode, that meant it was likely to work. Still, that left them with the problem of his rather outlandish vehicle mode amongst primitively designed modes of transport. Even the Bloodhound was rather primitive but, in the end, his Cybertronian model fit in far better than that piece of machinery.

         "Keeping your home Alt. is best, then." The medic nodded after some more thought. "Keep in mind, there will be many questions if we end up having to park near civilians. Sam has had to relay Bumblebee's make and model numerous times to curious passersby. You'll need to come up with some fabrication, and you'll need a driver until I'm able to manufacture a hologram, at least. Knockout, you'll need a driver as well."

     The cherry racer gasped at the mere suggestion. There was no way in the pits he would allow a disgusting human to 'gunk up' his interior. In an attempt to escape such a fate, he made note of there not being enough humans for every bot. Five couldn't exactly be shared amongst six, so someone had to be left human-less. 

     Ironhide stated Optimus would be ideal for that role, as he likely had more on his processor than anyone. Miles could ride with Knockout. Of course, even Blurr noted that the boy was a little sloppy and clumsy, so he suggested instead that Mikaela ride with Knockout.

         "She is adept in keeping a clean space." Ratchet hummed, mostly considering it because it clearly ruffled Ironhide's feathers, watching the mech carefully as he stiffened. He didn't really plan on changing that seating arrangement. "And she knows her vehicles."

         "What's that supposed to mean?" Knockout huffed, crossing his arms in defiance.

         "She works at her male parental unit's garage." Ironhide growled, a wordless warning to Ratchet.

         "Engines are her specialty," Ratchet continued, "but she also dabbles in body work and interior design."

     The more he explained the young woman's profession, the more Knockout seemed to consider having such a human in his cab, at least for a little while. He'd still complain but a human who understood automobiles and appreciated them wouldn't be so bad. Ratchet also had started to convince himself that this match-up would be suited for the racer. Sketchy in his allegiances or not, he and Blurr seemed to be good acquaintances and unlikely friends. Unless Starscream had something Knockout couldn't do without, or Blurr disappeared again, it would be wise to change who was watching over who of the humans.

     Knockout looked to his friend with a 'do I have to?' kind of expression. His comrade merely shrugged with a wide, sunshine smirk on his faceplate. 

     Slumping forward with a beaten sigh, Knockout conceded.

         "Fine, but only if the Big O' 'okays' it." Him pulling the you're not the leader card wasn't completely unexpected, but Ratchet doubted Optimus would disapprove. Knowing Miles, their leader would likely welcome the freedom of being able to think without the boy's rather annoying presence.

         :Why are we trusting this turncoat with Mikaela?: Ironhide decided to keep his grievances private from the other two. :Or any of the humans under our care, for that matter!:

         :You and I both know she can care for herself.: Ratchet told him calmly. :Besides, this gives you a reason to teach her how to shoot. I don't exactly trust Knockout either.:

     The opportunity given, Ironhide only grumbled lowly. If he could get by with teaching Mikaela an important skill, and not have Ratchet's ire aimed towards him, he'd take it. Even if it meant having to deal with Miles Lancaster's incessant questioning and stench of marijuana. How Optimus had been able to put up with him for so long already, he wasn't sure. The weapons specialist's only guess was that some power of the ancient Primes granted their leader, not only wisdom, but the patience of Primus himself.

     When the group of humans finally returned, and the two racers had stretched their stabilizers and burned some rubber, all was rather quiet. Miles had decided to play a few games on some hand-held device (calling it a DS), Sam and Mikaela were looking over a computer for some colleges and the two oldest humans were quietly chatting about mortgages and banking. All in all, their little hangar in Camp Ripley had become rather boring to the four bots present. 

     Knockout had run out of scratches to buff, and had no mirror to admire his work in so had resorted to sulking in a corner. Blurr was pacing from the lack of movement and feeling of being cramped mixed with trying to watch where he stepped in case a human had to pass by. Ratchet was standing near the hangar door, watching for Optimus and Bumblebee (who had last estimated their arriving time to be around noon). Ironhide was preparing one of his canons for Mikaela's training, though he knew there wasn't much preparation required, he still took his time to fend off boredom and to keep Ratchet's anxieties at bay.

     When the pickup truck finally stood, Mikaela's attention was immediately ripped from the computer and pointed at her guardian. He only jerked his helm to indicate he was leaving, the young woman nodding before kissing her boyfriend on the cheek and taking off. Sam looked up with a confused expression, though blushing. He noticed his girlfriend racing off to join the fighter, frowning by a fraction at the realization he was officially searching for colleges on his own. Mikaela didn't think anything of it as she jumped into her guardian's servo and let him carry her out into the bright sun. 

         "The trigger is obviously too big for your puny arms." Ironhide informed, setting up a metal plate at one side of the hangar. "However, it's built for the use of Minicons as well as bots."

         "Minicons?" Mikaela questioned.

         "Smaller Cybertronians." He explained. "Kind of a mysterious species but before they almost went extinct, they were like support items. Living ones, anyway. That's why this piece here can do this."

     After taking several paces from the metal plate, Ironhide set Mikaela down. He repositioned his hold on the blaster so that his servo was behind the scope. Pressing the butt of the gun down on the asphalt, it transformed to a tripod while the barrel arched downward to point at its target. A small chair, still a little big for Mikaela, appeared with a joystick at its front. She climbed the ladder that had also transformed from the metal and sat at her new post, eyeing the fence that marked the boundary of Camp Ripley through the scope before it suddenly locked on to the metal plate.

         "Wow-" she marveled, only to appear confused as the view in the scope changed after blinking.

         "The scope follows your optic movements, or eyes." Ironhide began his instruction. "Since you're not exactly a Minicon, I suspect you'll have a disadvantage in keeping it steady without more practice. The control is that little stick with the button. You can move the turret any direction, but for now, let's keep it straight where it is."

     Mikaela nodded, her hands off the device and set on the sides of the chair just to be safe.

         "This is the simplest device made for Minicons." The weapons specialist continued. "In other words, there's only one setting. Fire it."

         "What- now?" Mikaela was suddenly not so enthusiastic about being armed with a gun several times her size.

         "I said I'd teach you to shoot, didn't I?"

         "No, you said you'd show me how one of these things works, cleaning and repairs, that type of stuff!"

     Ironhide quieted for a moment, realizing he indeed did not say he would teach her how to shoot one.

         "Change in plans." He huffed harshly, armor flaring in agitation. "Now shoot the darned thing!"

     Mikaela just rolled her eyes before turning to look through the scope. She focused in on the metal plate, cursing every time she blinked and ruined her aim. When the woman felt she had her target sighted and locked, she pressed the button.

         Nothing happened. 

     Confused, Ironhide's charge looked down at the glowing red dot. It wasn't exactly made for human hands, so she wondered if it wouldn't react to her organic self. Looking up at her guardian with a lost expression, she watched him huff once more, pinching between his optics.

         "Press it harder. It's meant for stronger beings; therefore, you can't treat it like a fragging computer key."

     Nodding, and feeling mildly embarrassed, Mikaela realigned her sight to stare at the metal plate and slapped the button as hard as her toned arms would allow. 

     She shrieked when the firearm released a burst of heated energy only to turn wildly up and left, knocking her out of the chair and forcing her to hold tightly to the ladder at its side. She climbed back up once the turret straightened out on its own, panting from fear and adrenaline as she slowly looked up at Ironhide, who watched without saying a single word. 

Several long moments of silence passed before he spoke.

         "You didn't have to punch the thing." 

         "Next time give me more detail about how hard I should press the damn button!" Mikaela argued, clearly heated, and female hormones raging from her still active period. 

     Ironhide simply continued to teach his charge how to operate the weapon. He was only thankful she had hit the target before the blaster registered the command to turn left (which would have hit the hangar). Instructions of how to turn the gun came next to which Mikaela found easier than it seemed. The difficult part was aiming at the same time as she felt it was mandatory to look through the scope at all times. Ironhide did his best to explain that that wasn't the case; to instead, identify the target before the scope turns, that way it made it easier to lock on and fire with more accuracy as her eyes were already staring at her opponent.

         "You really think I'll need to use this?" Mikaela questioned. "I mean, if it's just Starscream and Barricade against six Autobots, what use would I be in this?"

         "Five Autobots," Ironhide corrected, "and I'm surprised you're so willing to underestimate the two considering Barricade had been hunting down your chosen mate for who knows how long before he ran into you?"

         "Point taken." She nodded, pivoting the weapon again to stare at the far-off gate of the military camp. She stared through the scope, having found how to increase its range and view in more detail farther away. Adjusting the turret again, she squinted her eyes and leaned forward. "Hey 'Hide," she questioned, "how's your spark doing?"

     Confused, Ironhide turned to stare where Mikaela had found interest in. Within this movement, he found nothing wrong with his spark. Wondering why the human would ask such a question, his optics focused to see a plume of thin dust from the road ahead of their temporary sanctuary. It wasn't a big enough plume to be Optimus and Bumblebee, and it was far too early for their arrival anyway. Only when he spied the black and white coloring of Barricade did the mech realize what she meant. 

     The most concerning part was that he felt nothing concerning the strange pull on his spark. Not even where the strange device could be.