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Rise of the Living Matrix (Market Commodity IV)	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Round Robins Views: 1371 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own hasbro/transformers. Am not making a dime.

Chapter List
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*Rise of the Living Matrix*
*by StSE: Universes G1, TFA, BW*
Forward: Preface: The Autobots and Decepticons built human sized clones and sold them as 'pleasure droids'. Then the Yellowstone supervolcano blew - forcing the mechs to abandon Earth and the clones. Rumble and Beachcomber found themselves stranded, and now they've teamed up with Dinobot, Inferno and a growing Unit of human and clone survivors - and struggle on.
Society Is in shambles. A mixed unit of clones, humans and mechs struggle on. They encounter an old foe, Tron. An insane Megatron clone who has put together a growing metropolis of clones infected by a Decepticon computer virus which makes them unstable prone to blind rages. Two of the unit members, Charge (a Prime/Onslaught hybrid) and Doc (Firstaid), have been captured by Tron’s horde. Meanwhile an Army Ranger Unit has just met up with the mixed Unit and combined forces. Unfortunately, their two Megatron clones are not exactly ‘getting along’ with the mixed Unit’s two Galvatron clones….
And finally, in this great clone saga we have a young Optimus clone - Opie. Found battered, abused and broken – he has regained his strength and his self confidence. And no one but his Galvatron clone partner, Glock, has realized that within his damaged spark lies the future of Earth’s survivors. A secret that Glock intends to have sole ownership over…..
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…….It has been a few days since the end of Age of the Machine……
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“Geese, can’t you just live and let live?” Opie mumbled as he rolled his optics in annoyance.
Undeterred, the Galvatron clones both stuck their olfactory sensors straight up in the air and glared at him as if he was absolutely fragged. “Magnum and Colt need to understand their place within our ranks,” Glock growled. His identical ‘twin’ nodded in agreement.
“Their place is on the sides of their human partners,” Stun snorted, his voice filled with contempt. “Not sticking their olfactory sensors into our business!”
The Prime clone rolled his optics; this was a continuous debate with these two. They both despised the Megatron clone pair – about as much as the Megatron pair despised them. The only difference was that the Megatrons’ had a bit more tact about it. Or was that better? Sometimes he wondered. At least with the paranoid Galvatron models – you knew exactly where they stood. “Well, we NEED them for our plans to work – period. So your just gonna have to deal with them.”
“A foolish plan that endangers our most valuable asset.” Glock crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the warehouse. He focused his brilliant rubies onto the Optimus clone as his engine growled in disapproval of the plan.
Was Opie seeing things – or did Glock’s optics actually soften with concern?!? He shook off the fleeting feeling as his partner’s optics immediately hardened at his reply, “There’s only one way for sparked clones to get inside the metropolis. And I’m not about to ask anyone else to expose themselves to it! I’m strong now, I know what I’ll be expected to do – and I can do it and not be broken again.” His spark did tremble at the idea of going back to being a slave, even if it was to be as an undercover spy. But no one else could do it. No one else could handle it. He was a prime clone – fully a Prime!
“And WE will protect him from serious damage,” two voices added.
The Galvatron clones growled as they turned to meet the gaze of the approaching Megatron pair. “WE will ensure that you do!” Stun snarled. He didn’t like the idea of being toted around on the back of a Megatron clone any more than Glock did – but it was the only way they could ensure Opie’s survival in this mission.
Colt smirked; he was going to rather enjoy forcing the arrogant Galvatron models to act as their weapons for the next few weeks. A true testament of the superiority of the Megatron models! “The Wheeljack clone, Jinx, has ordered us in for modifications” he informed them. Just to infuriate Glock off some more, he patted his shoulder armor as if they were old comrades – before turning and striding away with Magnum at his side.
“That son-of-a-…” Glock raised his weapon, ready to blast the obnoxious pair off the face of the wrecked world. But Opie stopped him cold. “We NEED them Glock! You two are going to HAVE to work with them – do you hear me?!” The Gavatron clone snarled and lowered his cannon. “For now you are safe,” he muttered under his breath as he watched the Megatron clones walk away. “But not forever…”
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… Later in the Day…
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“Let me go with you!” The Starscream clone whispered his voice unusually high-pitched even for him. His wings trembled fearfully as he held on tightly to the Optimus clone.
“You can’t come Scream. You still can barely handle being in the same room as a Megatron clone. How do you think you could handle interfacing with them?” Opie warned him as he stroked those warm red wings. It wasn’t just that – it was the fact that HE couldn’t handle the thought of his beautiful fech being raped again by hordes of infected clones. His own fate at their hands – he could handle that.
“But… but… I’ll find a way to handle it … I want to.. be with you!” the Seeker sobbed. His spark field flowing out surrounded the other clone in blistering energy.
Opie pulled back a bit. With a gentle hand he tilted Scream’s chin up so that he could look into his tear-filled optics. “I will be back. And I promise that we’ll be mated then. We’ll be together forever.” He kissed the stains from the handsome face plate. “But I’ve got to do this mission Scream. I’m the only one who can get in. Get close enough to Tron to destroy him. Glock, Stun, Magnum, Colt and the other Ranger clones will keep me safe. Bring me back.”
*sniff…. Sniff….* Scream searched his optics, his hands feeling along his chassis as he was trying to memorize every part of him… Every nut… Every bolt… “But you’ll have to … to….”
“Shhhhhhhhh” Opie put a digit across those exquisite lips. “We both know what I’ll have to do. You and I – we’ve both done it before.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “That’s why I think we should wait to, um, consummate our relationship until the mission’s over.” He curled his digits around Scream’s “because I want your touch to be the last touch I’ll ever know.”
The Seeker’s knee joints went weak, slowly, he collapsed to the ground in the Prime clone’s arms. He openly wept. Wept for knowing so well what Opie was voluntarily walking into… Wept for knowing that Opie was right that HE was too emotionally weak to walk into the very same thing… Wept for knowing that his exmates, Charge and Doc, were going through that very torture right now..
Opie just held him. He was as terrified as Scream was – but this was something he had to do. It was his duty to bring back their comrades. His duty to destroy Tron and everything he stood for. The human soldiers had told him that every soldier felt fear in battle. That it was natural and something to use. And that’s what he was now in this ruined world – a soldier. A soldier that had to make things right!
Hearing some metallic footsteps approaching, Opie looked up and met Jag’s calm blue optics. The officer knelt next to them; his arms surrounding the Seeker as Opie slowly pulled his away. “It’s time,” the Prowl clone whispered to the Prime clone. He grabbed his arm as the Prime began to stand, unexpectedly drawing their lips together in a passionate kiss. There was no longer any animosity between them. No jealousy over the Seeker they both loved… As Jag’s glossa slipped over his, Opie understood the depth of his quiet understanding. A silent promise to take care of the emotional red Seeker in his absence and to step aside upon his return…..
“Jag… I…” he stammered as their lips parted.
“Go now,” Jag’s optics locked with his, “Destroy his fear.” They both knew what those quiet words meant. Scream could never be whole while Tron walked the Earth. There was only one way to make the Seeker truly whole again – and that was to destroy the clone who had tortured and abused him so many years ago. “And come back to us,” the stoic clone’s lower lip trembled slightly, an indication of how deeply he meant those words.
Standing up, Opie straightened to his full height. His resolve now firm by the faith of the clone he’d once idolized. “I will not fail you – I promise.” With that, he joined the team assembling for the mission.
The Prowl clone watched him walk away. He was truly becoming the Prime clone that he was destined to be – the one that the Galvatron clones seemed to sense. For a brief moment, Jag contemplated on just how the clones of Optimus’s arch enemy could be so intuitive about one of his clones. But then Scream let out a howl of audiosplitting emotional agony, focusing the Prowl clone’s attentions back onto his current task.
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… Several Days have passed. And the Undercover team nears their destination…..
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Opie stumbled after Colt, his optics on the ground in apparent submission. The muddy ground was slick, making driving impossible and every footstep perilous. Rain thickened with volcanic soot stung their back armor as it drove against them with the veracity of a world gone mad. “Masters, I need to rest,” he pleaded as he fell yet again.
Colt and Magnum paused for a moment. A glance passing as they decided on how they would be expected to react to this plea from their ‘slave’. Colt nodded toward the infected clones who had recently joined them in their march towards the Metropolis. It was obvious that Jinx’s devices had worked in hiding the fact that they themselves were sparked - but They HAD to appear infected as well in order to keep up the ruse. Magnum kicked Opie hard “Get up you worthless excuse of a Prime clone!” he spat.
Glancing over at the infected clones who were watching, Opie yelped and hobbled back onto his peds. “Y-yes Master!” he whimpered as he limped on through the muck. From all outward appearances, he was nothing but a wreck of a Prime clone. An appearance well-orchestrated by the ‘modifications’ that the Unit medic clones had done to his armor… And as long as he kept the act consistent with the appearance, the infected clones would never realize they had allowed a full strength, battle ready Prime clone and his Weapon-clones into their midst.
The infected clones snickered at the broken Prime clone, though they kept their distance from him. The two Megatron clones had made it quite clear that he was theirs – and only theirs. And as heavily armed as they were with the strange sniper weapons strapped to their back plates and the cassetticon clones whom followed their every order – no one dared to argue with them either. They were obviously top officers in the ranks… Or so the infected clones assumed.
A few more hours passed, and under cover of the violent storm and their unknowing cohorts, the undercover team slipped into the very heart of the clone Metropolis. Colt and Magnum grabbed Opie by his arms as they cussed and kicked infected clones out of their way, making it appear that they were dragging him to his doom at headquarters. But in actuality, he was leading them to their goal.
The sights and smells of the Metropolis caused the memory files he had hidden deep within his processor to rise violently into his CPU. His weakened spark fluxed with emotions of rage, helplessness, bitterness, pain… Threatening to overwhelm his focus on his mission with raw emotions… He bit his lip hard to avoid reacting to a beaten FirstAid clone slave who fell before him, only to be trampled beneath his peds. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t bypass him – for that would make it obvious that he still had will left. No, his cover meant he had no will left… No thought…. No life… He stomped down on the groaning dirty white chassis, praying it wasn’t Doc… Knowing at this moment it didn’t really matter if it was..
Colt and Magnum dragged him on. The Cassetticons following them along… Their face plates baron of emotional, for to show any other than rage would be out of place in this hell hole. Other Megatron Clones walked past, nodding their acknowledgement of the other Generals presence. Little was said, body language was the primary form of communication within the infected clone world. And the two undercover ranger clones had the presence of Generals coming in from the field. So it was unquestioned why they headed towards Headquarters. It was simply expected….
Guards jumped to open the doors for the returning Generals. The Ranger clones didn’t even bother to notice. They were Generals here and Generals paid no attention to underlings except to punish them for their insolence. Just as Optimus clones functioned merely to pleasure them….. The group strolled to the empty elevator shaft. The Decepticon clones having no problems in flying up the shaft, carrying their ‘pleasure slave’ between them.
When they neared the 20^th floor, Opie squeezed their arms, silently indicating that this was the floor they should step onto. Without a glance at him, the Decepticon clones slowed their ascent and set their peds on that floor as if they knew where they were. They threw him on the floor ahead of them. “Go on slave!” Colt barked, making it appear that they were forcing him back to the Generals rec deck – when in reality it was him leading them.
Stealing himself for what he knew was to come, he stood and staggered onward. The undercover rangers right behind. They would have to let him do what must be done in order for them to blend into the infected ranks. They must blend into obscurity in order to complete their mission. A palpable sense of despair assailed their logic circuits as Opie led them straight into the depths of clone hell.
“Ah yes, a fresh spark….” A one-optic’d Megatron clone slurred as they entered the rec area. Stepping forward, he grabbed Opie by an audio and twisted it forcefully, sneering as the battered-looking Prime clone yelped. “Yes, yes, he will do quite nicely!” Ignoring the lower ranking Generals who had brought the slave in, he turned and dragged Opie towards the center of the large convention room.
Colt and Magnum glanced at each other, and with a nod – separated and slid silently into the ranks of the infected Generals unnoticed. The cassetticon clones slipping away to recon….
Opie did not struggle at all as he was dragged along by the one-optic’d clone. He was now acting the part of willing slave. An act that had once defined him. An act that he now played again…. He heard a FirstAid clone pleading… begging…. The crowd separated and his optics were assailed with the vision of a pitiful white clone – beaten, raped, tortured – his dull optics full of fear as he was forced down on his knees and his hands tied behind his back armor.
“The slave is begging for Autobot cable – give it to him!” the one-optic’d General ordered as he pushed Opie forward.
Opie’s optics filled with tears as he activated his cable. He’d been prepared to be raped and brutalized himself – but not to do it to another. But to not perform the task would open the entire team to discovery. He had to rape this slave – in order to save him. He just prayed that the FirstAid clone would forgive him. Grabbing the sobbing clone’s chained arms; he threw him flat on his back armor – much to the amusement of the Generals surrounding them. Pressing down on top of the struggling and pleading clone, he wet his digits with his glossa before slipping them down along the white chassis.
“Quit struggling and this will go faster!” he whispered in the clone’s audio, as he forced his legs apart with his knees. He could feel the captive’s spark beating frantically against his own spark field. The terror bright within the FirstAid clone. The clone was still far from broken yet – still valiantly trying to deny unwanted interface …. Wishing he didn’t have to do this even as he did - Opie forced his digit-tips under the clone’s hood and forced his spark chamber panel to open. This was what he knew the Generals wanted. This was what he had to do….
The blue fire of the struggling captive’s exposed spark danced over his armor. Their sparkfields touching even through his strong protective forcefield. Though greatly weakened, Opie’s eve spark met the other’s spark field. Tendrils stroked the fearful pulses as he forced his moistened digits into the white clone’s ports. A sense of familiarity came over Opie as he forced his lips against the captive’s. A sense that he knew this spark…. His optics widened in surprise – just as the FirstAid clone’s optics widened.
“Opie?” the thought flew across their joined sparkfields as clear as if it had been spoken. Doc’s glossa met his – tasting his familiar flavor. True, they had not been mates – but living in such close quarters sparks became familiar with each other’s energy flux signature. Doc’s sparkfield pulsed hard against his shielding, the clone’s elation at finding another Unit clone mixed with his horror at finding another Unit clone in this hell.
Opie allowed the spark to slip a tendril past his shielding, even as he began to pump digits in-and-out of Doc’s ports. The snickers and lewd comments of the Generals surrounding them meant nothing now. He must collect as much information as he could while they coupled. Putting his nausea aside at having to rape his own friend, he grasp the spark tendril and wrapped it with his own. “I’m here to free you” he whispered across their link.
Doc’s optics narrowed even as he relaxed his ports slightly. Free him? How could a captured Opie free him?! But at least it was a former friend who would be raping him this time. It was better than the hordes of infected clones who had been doing it. He allowed his legs to be spread further without resisting. “We’re both captives – we’re both in hell…” he shot back through their link.
Grabbing one of his legs, Opie forced it up – allowing the Generals to have a better view of his digits plunging in and out of Doc’s ports - Much to their sick delight. He kept his lips locked with Doc’s, for they couldn’t dare utter a word. “Long story. But you have to trust me. This city will be destroyed soon.” He tried to push as much certainty in his spark and let it flow through to the captive clone.
The medic looked into his optics as he sensed his words through their sparkfields. Opie was a different clone now. He could sense the strength and certainty within him. Right then and there he understood that Opie was no mere captive – he was back there by choice! He was choosing to do this in order to rescue him and Charge! His core beat warmly with that realization. Somehow he knew without a doubt that Opie would find a way to destroy this hell hole. “I trust you…” he whispered as he felt the Prime’s cable slide inside him.
Those three simple words empowered Opie, his spark swelling in response. Gently, he pulled out and slid his cable back into the medic. Their optics locked together as tightly as their lips. He knew this was probably the first pleasure that Doc had had in all the weeks he’d been missing. He also knew with certainty that Doc was wishing that he was Charge – not Opie. With another strong thrust, he filled Doc with a cable identical to Charge’s. Promising the touching spark that one day it would be that hybrid’s again which filled him.
“Give it to him slave!” one of the nameless hordes jeered.
Opie flipped Doc over onto his chest armor. Repositioning himself, he thrust his shaft deeply inside the slick forward port. His optics searched the horde, finally spying one of the hidden Ranger clones. Their optics met – understanding flying silently between them. He needed the Ranger to involve himself – before another Megatron clone did..
Allowing himself to fall into the brief respite that the unwanted act with Opie allowed, Doc arched his aft to allow the Prime clone fuller penetration. He was under no illusion that his rescue would be quick to ensue – no illusion that he would not have to endure the cables of infected clones yet longer… He lived in the moment that was at hand… Allowing his friend to force his torso up until his was kneeling with his back pressed tight against Opie’s chest as the clone pumped into him. He sucked on Opie’s digits as they forced their way into his mouth. Shutting off his optics, he tried to forget where he was for a moment… A blessed moment…
“Suck him off,” Opie whispered in his audio. Shocked, Doc activated his optics only to find the tip of a Megatron clone’s cable at his lips. Shaking his head, he tried to clamp his mouth shut, but Opie held his chin tightly – his digits forcing his mouth open. Forcing him to give one of their captors pleasure! “Do it!” The Prime clone ordered.
Fighting against the strong grasp, Doc was forced to allow the Megatron clone’s cable into his mouth. Outrage flowed through his link to Opie’s spark as he tasted the metallic texture of the unwanted intrusion. The Megatron clone snickered something to the other Generals as he circled Doc’s helm with his own hands, holding him still as he slowly pushed in-and-out of his mouth.
The outrage withered within Doc as the assault on his mouth and ports continued unabated for some time. Time enough for the other Generals to get bored and move off to other pursuits. The Megatron clone who commanded his lips snarled threats and insults like any other General – yet his actions were strangely non-violent. In fact, he did not seem to be truly getting pleasure from the act itself. Doc whisked his glossa along his length just to see what would happen. Nothing – absolutely no change in his reaction!
Narrowing his optics, the trapped medic looked up at the Megatron clone – studying him intently as he actually TRIED to pleasure him. Absolutely no difference in his reaction! And what was that weapon strapped across his back armor? Doc swallowed the clone’s cable deeply down his throat, pressing his face plate as close as he could against the gray armor to get a better view of the rifle’s barrel. He KNEW that barrel! He glanced up at the Megatron clone’s optics in amazement. He didn’t know this clone – but he sure as hell knew the one who sat silently across his back armor!
After recognizing Glock, Doc relaxed in the realization that somehow this Megatron clone who was slagging his mouth was connected to his Unit. He flicked his glossa along the shaft – still curious about the lack of a true reaction to pleasure stimulation. Then the thought hit him – what if this clone did not have the programming? The more he played with his glossa against the clone, the more convinced he was of this idea.
Glad that Doc had quit struggling, Opie used the time that they could stay ‘occupied’ with the ‘slave breaking’ to communicate with Colt. Slowing his thrusts to a snail’s pace, he nodded for the Megatron clone to do the same. He had to admit, it was a bit distracting to try and think while his cable was buried up to the hilt in a tight port – but he had to.
Colt wasn’t bothered by the distraction of his cable being pleasured like Opie was. He didn’t have the programming to process it – and didn’t care to have it. Keeping the up act of raping the now obviously willing captive, he waited for the other Generals to become bored and wander off to other pursuits. His optics scanned the building, counting Generals, looking for weaknesses.
How long would they keep going?!? Doc asked himself as his chassis was racked by delicious sensations. Now that he’d realized that he was between two allies, granted – allies that were obviously using him as a cover for whatever they were up to – he’d relaxed his firewalls and finally allowed his processor to enjoy the pleasure signals. Minutes flowed into an hour. A time scale that would actually be impossible for an infected clone to have managed – which made it even more obvious to the medic that the Megatron clone had to be a sparked clone who had managed to hide that fact from the others. How many other sparked clones were hidden in their midst? His spark fluttered in contained elation as he moaned against the thick cable sliding back down his throat.
Unlike Colt, Opie couldn’t ignore his pleasure networks indefinitely. Grabbing the FirstAid clone’s hips tightly, he gave into his need and increased his pace to a fury. Wetness dripped down over his thighs as the medic’s port began to spasm in response to the friction.
Doc felt Opie’s sparkfield surround his in a frenzied pulse. Locking his lips tightly around the Megatron clone’s cable, he stilled himself as his port was assailed. His entire chassis began to hum as the bright pulse of pleasure rocketed across sensory nets. His peds curling in response to his impending overload as he began to buck against Opie’s forceful thrusts….
Colt watched them curiously as they both overloaded, his still-taunt cable sliding from the medic’s mouth as both of the Autobot clones slid limply to the ground. Done with the act, he commanded his cable to withdrawal back inside his protective armor. The clone-to-clone interfacing had been an interesting experience – but without the programming to go with it – it was a general waste of time in his opinion.
[Find some quarters to throw Doc into] Glock ordered through their comlink.
[I do not take orders from a mere Vice Squad bot!] Colt snarled silently back.
The sniper cannon stirred against his back armor. [If you don’t, you’ll never peel that soft hearted Opie away from him.] his tone was of long-standing familiarity with their commanding clone. Granted, none of the Decepticon weapons clones were really thrilled with having Opie as their leader. But he was the one with experience around the infected clones – so they were stuck with him.
[Too softsparked to be an effective leader] the Megatron clone snarled in disgust. He could actually feel the Galvatron clone nod in agreement. Might be the first time they’d actually agreed upon anything. Kicking the ‘slave’ Opie – he knocked him back on line. “Pick up the other slave and follow me!” he ordered harshly. Pushing several infected Generals out of their way – he cussed and threatened each and every one of them. Just as if he was an infected clone like them.
Staggering to his peds, Opie shook himself free from the lasting sparkles of the overload. Gathering up the limp form of Doc, he made it look as though he struggled to put him over a shoulder plate – even though in reality the medic’s weight was nothing to the powerful Prime clone. Moving with an exaggerated limp, Opie followed after the undercover ranger – trusting that he had some kind of plan.
They went down several halls, deep into the housing complex of the Generals. The few they met along the way were met with snarls from Colt. He was so hostile, that even the infected Generals chose to give him a wide berth.
Opie felt Doc stir against his back armor. Tapping his leg with a digit, he stilled the rebooting clone.
Doc stared at the floor as his friend carried him along. Obviously, Opie wanted him to remain ‘unconscious’ – so he kept himself limp. He had no clue as to where they were going or what they were going to do – but any moment away from infected clones was a good moment.
Colt stopped so suddenly that Opie almost bumped into him. Forcing the door next to them open – the ranger nodded for Opie to follow him… They were met by a rather surprised Megatron clone, who staggered to unsteady peds demanding to know (in a voice so slurred – it was indecipherable) what they thought they were doing. Colt and Glock made short work of the infected clone – tearing him to pieces in the blink of an optic.
With the door firmly secured, the two Decepticon clones turned “Leave the medic here” Glock told Opie.
Set back on his peds, Doc grabbed Opie’s arm. He was battered and bruised – and there was no way he wanted to be left alone again in this hell. “I want to come with you,” he pleaded.
“It’s not safe to leave him here,” Opie agreed.
Glock arched an optic ridge in amusement. Grabbing Colt’s cannon right off his arm, he tossed it towards the medic clone – who caught it and promptly dropped it in total revulsion. “If you can’t fight – then you’re nothing but a liability to us,” he snarled.
Picking up Colt’s cannon and handing it back to him, the Prime clone glared at his partner. “That wasn’t fair and you damn well know it!”
Affixing his cannon back to its mounts, Colt shrugged. “I am in agreement with Glock. If he cannot fight – then he is a liability and should remain hidden.”
The FirstAid clone looked from clone-to-clone-to-clone, they were right. Everyone was a fighter but him. He was a – liability – to their mission. He backed away, his knee bearings feeling weak. Just the thought of being left alone…. Here…. Open an unable to defend himself… Opie’s strong hand caught him right as he collapsed. “They… They’re right Opie,” Doc sniffed “I can’t fight. I’ve never been able to fight! It’s my model!”
Shaking his head at the two Decepticon clones before they could chime in, Opie focused his attention on the white clone. “And my model was supposed to be unable to go without our masks – and to avoid gay relationships too.” His optics dared Doc to dispute the fact he’d overcome both of these programmed traits.
Swallowing hard Doc searched Opie’s bare faceplate for strength. Reaching up, his digits traced the long scar that went from cheek to chin – marking the Prime clone as one of Tron’s former slaves. He had watched the clone go from a broken terrified wreck into the strong leader that now stood before him. A clone that could now face his abusers without fear… “I’m not as strong as you… I.. can’t..”
“Glock, transform,” Opie ordered. His partner gave him an amused smirk right before he transformed and fell lightly into the Prime clone’s hands. Opie held out the powerful sniper cannon to Doc. “I’ve learned that through adversity – we learn to change what we must in order to survive. You’re spark bonded to Charge. You can lead us directly to him.” His optics sparkled as he pushed the cannon against the medic’s chest plates. “Take him; rise above your programming limitations – for Charge!”
Opie was right. Having Doc lead them to Charge’s location would cut a lot of time off of their mission. But he had to be able to fight or he would become a liability. He knew it – they all knew it. Doc chewed on his lower lip, his digits trembling as he reached for the cannon. Could he – fight????????
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Note: had a day off. Doesn’t happen much. Hope you all enjoyed this most recent installment of the Market Commodity Series. Leave a comment, I read them all.
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Rise of the Living Matrix (Market Commodity IV)