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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Round Robins Views: 6356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers/Hasbro, Am not making a dime off of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A.o.M. part 1
- 2-A.o.M. 2
- 3-A.o.M 3
- 4-A.oM.4
- 5-AoM 5
- 6-AoM 6
- 7-AoM 7
- 8-AoM 8
- 9-AoM 8-1/2
- 10-AoM 9
- 11-AoM 10
- 12-AoM 11
- 13-AoM 12
- 14-Once upon a time
- 15-AoM 13
- 16-AoM 14
- 17-AoM 15
- 18-AoM 16
- 19-AoM 17
- 20-Family Ties
- 21-AoM 18
- 22-Family Ties Pt 2
- 23-AoM19
- 24-Family Ties Pt 3
- 25-AoM 20
- 26-Family Ties Pt 4
- 27-AoM 21
- 28-AOM 22
- 10
- 11
- 12
**Age of the Machine part 10**

*Written by StSE; Universes G1/Beast*

Note: Charge is becoming more like TFA Sentinel Prime… Just thought I’d mention that.

----

As he opened his mouth to rebuff his Security chief’s accusation, the trailer shook so violently that he almost fell. Grabbing the wall behind him, Charge steadied himself as all of their comlinks went wild.

“Surprise attack coming from 45 north- north/west!” Electro’s voice screamed through their coms. The sounds of small arms fire filled the background…

“How many?” Darren’s voice replied. His deep baritone was calm and cool, but he sounded out of breath, as if he was running through the muck towards the action. Being the Commander-on-duty, this was his job.

“Beta squadron coming ‘round,” Blue cut in.

“Shit! There’s a whole slew of them!” Silver blurted over the com.

“How many?” Darren didn’t seem as composed this time, it was obvious that he was now at a full run.

They could here Prion cough a little. “Um, I’m counting thirty-no-thirty-five-no-forty!” The Seeker seemed a little taken aback, he was used to action, just not this much of it.

“We’ve got the first line laser sighted! Hit ‘em before they get past us!” Electro screamed at the flyers.

Pulling out his weapon, Charge shot a look at Jag and Opie as he ran out to join the fray. A look that in no uncertain terms meant that this disagreement was far from settled… But he was the clone ground Commander – and he wasn’t about to let his men handle this sneak attack without him.

Jag wasn’t far behind him. All thoughts of personal issues fleeing from his meta as his battle processor flashed on line. As he left the trailer, he was already in full contact with his security Units. Since the infected clones were within a half-mile of the semi convoy, they would have to stand with their front line brethren. They would have to stand as one.

His optics opened wide in horror, Opie ground his dental plates together in determination. This would be his first true battle. The little skirmishes here-and-there a mere training for what he’d face now as a battle field medic. “Please keep Scream here,” he pleaded to Doc. He glanced down at his love, at the shielded cockpit where small taps from the kicking sparkling could still be heard over the distant gunfire. “He’s too close.”

Nodding, the First Aid clone came up. Flipping open one of Scream’s abdominal panels, he manually overrode the Seeker’s attempt to activate out of defrag. “We’ll, um, tell him and TC that they can’t fight – or, um, interface sparks – cause they’re too close. Ok?” he asked Opie. He didn’t like lying, but it could very well be true – they just didn’t really know because the two Seekers were the first to be carrying sparklings. It sounded good though. It’d keep ‘the peace’ between Opie and Charge – if NO ONE could stick their cable up Scream until afterward.

Chewing on his lower lip, Opie nodded. He more than understood what Doc was trying to do. And since he was such a useless wimp – there was nothing he could do but to avoid tangling with the perfect Prime clone. “Yeah, guess so,” he muttered.

His partner ran in, Dante being dragged along. “Come on!” he barked as he slapped Opie on his back. “There’s a battle to win! Infected clones to destroy!” His optics gleamed with battle lust, his engine revving high in anticipation.

“What are we going to do with HIM?” Opie asked as he caught the Megatron clone in the air as he transformed to alt mode. He eyed the new Starscream clone, who was shifting from thruster to thruster in a strange mix of nerves and excitement. He wasn’t even an official recruit yet, having been found just yesterday. Yet now he faced battle. Battle out in the open… In the wilds which terrified him…

“He’s our ride. You don’t expect future leaders like US – to plod through the muck into battle,” Glock snorted from Opie’s hand.

“Guess not.” The young Prime clone still wasn’t sure about all these future plans his partner had for them. All Glock thought about was advancing his rank – which meant Opie had to advance his as well. Not exactly what Opie longed to do. He just wanted to be a hero. You know, do ONE great deed or something. Then he’d be somebody. Then he’d be worthy to stand openly next to Scream.

Grabbing Dante’s hand, Opie ignored the bemused look in Doc’s optics as he dragged the red Seeker out of the trailer. “Uh, guess you’d better transform.”

A look of pure terror washed over Dante’s face plate. He glanced in the direction that the sounds of battle were coming from, and then back at Opie. He’d only flown a couple of times in his life! And now they wanted him to carry them into battle?!?

“Transform you idiot!” Glock ordered. When Dante just stood there like an actual idiot, the Megatron clone transformed and glowered at him. “I said TRANSFORM!!”

“I… I…” Dante looked back towards the battle and then at his angry lover. His face plate heated up in embarrassment.

“You WHAT?!?” the gray clone snarled. He didn’t understand a Starscream clone acting like this. They all LOVED a good fight! They were rather notorious for their continual gloats about it after the fact.

“I… I..” Backing up, Dante slipped in the muck. Landing on his aft, he sniffed back his tears. They wanted him to carry them! To FLY out in the open!?! His agoraphobia sought to overwhelm his senses.. He liked to fight – in an enclosed space. In a place that HE could control! This was the wilds! The terrifying openness of the gray expanse… And he didn’t even have his chemicals. He had no way to protect himself!

Opie interceded. Pushing past his partner, he held his hand out to the terrified Seeker. He remembered how afraid Dante had been to leave the protection of his store in order to follow them into ‘the wilds’. So he had a sneaky suspicion as to what part of the problem was. “You haven’t flown much have you?” he asked in a gentle voice.

Pulled up by the strong clone, Dante gripped onto him, a little afraid to admit his weakness to Glock. Prime clones were well-known for their acceptance of such weakness – but Megatron clones? No way in hell! “Yeah, um, I only flew like a couple of errands here and there,” he admitted.

This caused Glock to stomp around, muttering to himself at how worthless his new beauty was. Other than his police decals, he could have been mistaken for the real mech at the moment….

Stroking Dante’s drooping wings, Opie consoled the clone. “Don’t worry Dante, he’ll get over it. He does the same thing to me.” Forcing the Starscream clone to look into his optics, he gently rubbed the tears from his face plate. Primus he wished this was Scream and not Dante! But he wasn’t, and he needed encouragement. “Just transform ok? You’re just helping us pick up the wounded – that’s all. We’ll load them onto your top line and you carry them back to McCoy and then come back. We’re not supposed to fight – other than to cover ourselves as we fetch our men.”

The Seeker sniffed again, but straightened up a bit. He trusted the Optimus clone. They were good models TO trust. He glanced at Glock’s impatient pacing, and then back at Opie. “Just… Transporting?” he asked.

Opie nodded, “just transporting.”

“Ok, guess I can do that.” With that, Dante transformed. He trembled a bit as he heard his ticked off lover transform. The Prime clone’s weight settled over his top line, strong digits curling into one of his intakes, the smooth length of Glock’s alt-length settling over his other intake. A grinding sound could be faintly heard as Opie braced his peds against the inside edges of his tail fins.

“Move out!” Opie ordered. He sounded sure and confident, just like the real mech whom he was a copy of.

With a scared gulp, the red Seeker engaged his engines. The muck released its grip on them as the wind cycling under his elegant wings lifted them into the sky. In the back of his meta, the Seeker once again cursed his former owners for ordering him with an Oil Slick meta processor. They had THOUGHT it would make him a better Starscream model. But all it meant was that now he had to LEARN how to be a Starscream model. A model that was supposed to love flying fast and fighting hard… Traits that Glock was apparently attracted to – and had assumed that he’d had. Dante wasn’t going to let his new lover down. He wasn’t going to disappoint him – if he could help it.

----

“We’re pinned down. 24 north 30 south!” Darren barked into the com. “Move the convoy back as much as you can! We’ve stirred up a huge can of bees!” He glanced at the clones on either side of him; even the fun-loving Jazz clone had a dead serious look on his face plate. They all knelt in the muck, keeping as much of their bulk behind a mound of god-only-knew-what as they could. Laser fire and bullets whizzed just over their helms, sounding like a swarm of yellow jackets.

Steel scanned around them. They were well in front of the rest of their force, having run out and pushed the section of intruders back. But no one had realized just how large a force they were up against, and now they were surrounded. “We’ve got to engage the combiners,” he shouted to Darren.

“Good idea Steel!” Darren ducked as a wreck of a clone leapt over the pathetic barrier and was blown to pieces by Groove.

“Wish we could just have had a dance off or something,” the Jazz clone quipped as he threw the pieces back at the advancing line.

“No such luck boys,” the old Marine winked behind his gold plated protective mask. “Daniel, Charge, - whoever’s in ground command back there – set the Combiners on ‘em or we’re DOA!” he shouted over the com. But he was met by static. Glancing at the com unit built in his ECE suit, he cussed as he noticed the damage. Either a bullet or a piece of shrapnel had taken it out. “Steel, Groove – my com’s out. Radio them!” he ordered as he went back to firing his laser gun.

Both of them tried, and failed to make contact. “Must have a Soundwave model out there,” Steel muttered in disgust.

Groove simply shrugged, “Or a Blaster. That guy can really fuck up a good channel.”

Raising their weapons, they prepared to meet the onslaught without assistance.

-----

“Down there!” Glock snarled as his scanners focused in on the action. The initial reports concerning the enemy were way off the mark. They were facing 10-to-1 odds right now. Even with the three Combiners engaged – it was going to be a hard fight to keep the infected clones from breaching their defenses and getting to the valuable female humans.

Craning his head over one of Dante’s wings, Opie peered at what Glock was seeing. There they were – two unit clones and a man pinned down in a barely defendable position! Surrounding them was a seemingly endless mass of surging clone wrecks… “We can’t get to them!” he cried in dismay.

“FUCKING FIRE ME YOU IDIOT! BLAST THEM TO PIECES!” the Megatron clone screamed in fury.

Both Opie and Dante gulped in trepidation as he obeyed the order. Dante struggled to maintain his smooth circling as the powerful recoils from the mighty blasts sought to disrupt his level. Opie cringed every time he pulled the trigger, terrified that his aim would be off. Terrified that he’d accidentally hit his own friend….

-------

“Darren! Are you ok?!?” Groove screamed as his human fell backwards. He began to turn, to see if he was ok.

“Shit! Keep firing Groove – or we’re ALL dead!!!” Steel ordered. His own spark plummeted as Darren never answered Groove’s question. But they couldn’t stop to check on him, if they did the infected clones would surely kill them all!

Unable to speak, Darren looked down in shock. He saw the edge of a big piece of shrapnel sticking out of his right side. It was getting hard to breath. The sounds of battle seemed to fade. The vision of his two clones as they fought in vain seemed to be getting slower and slower…

A huge blast not twenty feet from their location sent body parts of clones flying over them. Steel glanced up and saw the unmodified Starscream clone circling above them, an Optimus Prime helm sticking out over a wing along with the familiar form of a Megatron clone in alt mode. “The Calvary has arrived – a little late,” he muttered to himself as he returned his optics to the pulsing mass of zombie-like clones he was firing into.

Again and again Opie opened fire with his partner. He was now beyond thought, his entire chassis consumed with fear for the old Marine. Unlike Steel and Groove, he could see the metal that had torn through a seem in Darren’s ECE. He could see the dark stain growing on the armor. If they…. If HE didn’t get to him… He’d… He’d die! His friend would die!

Glock wasn’t even fazed as he was used to blast a large circle around the pinned troops. This was what he’d been made for. He was the ultimate weapon! And he led his team… He LED! Barking at Dante to land – he transformed even before the Seeker’s own thrusters hit the ground. His optics bright with battle lust, he opened fire at anything that so much as moved.

Opie also jumped off the Seeker, his meta consumed with the need to get to Darren. The battle now far from his thoughts, he ran to the prone man and knelt next to him, his optics studying the situation. His meta going through all of the med programming that Doc had copied and transferred to him…. Darren was in critical condition… His lung was pierced.

Cutting off the man’s ECE suit as gently as he could, the repair bot-in-training cringed as he exposed the extent of the man’s injuries. Quickly, he pulled out a needle filled with morphine from his subspace, his optics meeting Darren’s dark eyes just as he injected it into his shoulder. Those dark eyes telling him that the old Marine knew he might very well die. A slight smile curled Darren’s lips as the pain left. Almost an ‘approving’ smile, as if he’d rather die in Opie’s arms than any other’s.

“Is he… going to… make it?” Groove whispered, tears streaming down his face plate even as he continued to add his fire power to Glock’s and Steel’s.

“Dante, uh, here,” Opie held up a rag to the distressed Seeker. Dante looked truly lost and terrified in the middle of the fire fight. When he glanced Opie’s way and noticed that the repair bot was giving him an ‘order’ – he almost seemed relieved. Stumbling to him, he grabbed the rag. “Press down hard as I cut this,” Opie explained. He had to cut the fragment short so it wouldn’t move and damage more tissue. Then they’d secure it as best they could so that he could be transported.

Blood coating his hands, Dante nodded and did as asked. He watched the Prime clone in utter fascination as the bot performed the emergency stabilization. Prime clones weren’t supposed to be medics, but this one sure was. Why was that?

Glancing up, he saw the back of his lover as Glock yelled insults and threats while he blasted away those infected clones. Yes, that’s what Megatron clones were good at – killing. One day… One day he’d be standing there at Glock’s side, throwing chemicals onto the enemy and watching them scream as they dissolved. Glock would like that. He was a Megatron clone; he’d enjoy the macabre show. Dante could even imagine the sensation of chemicals streaming forth from his arm cannons again… A sensation he once knew very well. It had been nice having a hardware section at his old haunt. So many wonderful chemicals to mix….

Dante’s optics went back to the work going on in which he was helping with, his meta still wondering at all the strangeness in this unit…. Still thinking about how he would fit in with his strong lover…

Grabbing whatever he could use from his subspace, Opie soon had the shrapnel stabilized for transport. Darren was fading fast though… To fast… “Transform Dante!” he ordered, his digits still working feverishly.

Obediently, the Seeker transformed. His wheels sinking in the muddy ash… He sank deeper as Opie hefted Darren onto his topline and used straps to secure him. With a pat, the Prime clone ordered him on his way. Gunning his afterburners full-out, the hybrid Starscream clone pulled free of Earth’s grip on him and flashed away in a blur of red…

Opie didn’t have much time to think. Hearing the roar of his beauty’s engine, Glock glanced back. “ADVANCE! SLAUGHTER ANYTHING THAT MOVES!” he yelled. In the blink of an optic he was transforming, Opie catching him as he dropped through the air. With a gulp, he nodded at Steel and Groove to follow his lead. They left their pitiful cover, guns blazing…..

------

“HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME!!!” Scream shrieked. He’d finally managed to override the manual override and come out of defrag, only to find himself strapped down to one of the med trailer’s repair tables. He could hear the sounds of explosions and gunfire. The very trailer he was in was rocking back and forth as the intense vibrations rocked the earth beneath it.

“Uh, it’s for your own good. You know, sparkling and all…” Doc replied. He couldn’t meet Scream’s optics though, and was thanking god that he had a face mask.

“YOU GOD DAMNED FUCKING PRICKS FOR MEDICAL OFFICERS! THERE’S A BATTLE OUTSIDE!!! I’M AIR COMMAND YOU FOOLS!!!” Scream was so mad now that his air frame was shaking. He didn’t care that Doc was officially one of his ‘mates’. He was so gonna kick the fragger’s dental plates through his tail pipes when he got loose from these damned straps!

“They’ve got Blue in Air Command right now. Just take a chill pill,” Jinx said with a shrug. The Wheeljack clone grinned behind his mask as the Seeker kept struggling. He’d invented those restraints – and there was NO getting out of them. Granted, it was going to be fun to watch Scream try….

Going into a tirade of curses, Scream was now frantic to escape this confinement! His mouth slammed shut as TC came stumbling in carrying one of their men…

“Uh, just unloaded Dante. He, uh…” the Thundercracker clone looked worriedly down at the old marine in his arms. He was an IT bot, a front line fighter – not a medic. But it was obvious his old human buddy was in bad shape.

“Get him on the table!” McCoy barked. Going to his ‘human medical supply’ closet, he began to pull out everything he needed.

As gently as he could, the Seeker laid Darren down on the table. He stood there with a lost look on his face plate until the medics roughly pushed him out of the way so that they could start working on the injured man. Stumbling backwards, he almost fell on top of Scream as his aft hit the edge of the repair table the red Seeker was lashed down to.

“What happened? Is he going to be ok?” Scream whispered. All thoughts of anger fled his meta as he watched the group of medics working frantically on Darren. There was blood everywhere! So much blood!

“I, uh, donno…” TC whispered back. His wings were trembling in worry now… His friend might die… His friend who’d taught him how to be a real soldier…

“I … Darren….” *sniff*sniff* Scream felt like his spark was breaking. His chest hurt so much that it was getting hard to intake full cycles. His friend… His big black badass friend… His entire chassis hummed as he heated up. His spark hurt even more. It was becoming almost unbearable… But his meta was solely focused on his human friend lying there so still on the next table… Medics cutting on him.. Trying to save him…

Distraught, the blue Seeker reached behind him and grabbed his brother’s hand. He’d seen many infected clones die, but this was a human… This was one of his best friends. Leaning back, he set his elbows on Scream’s armor, needing the contact as he dealt with the pain of seeing Darren so close to death. That’s when he realized something.. Scream’s cockpit was slowly opening… Something was touching his elbow.

In shock, the blue Seeker whirled around. His mouth hanging open in a mixture of shock and horror… Scream’s optics had offlined. The red Seeker’s air frame went stiff as the sparkling fully separated sparks from his. He was no longer conscious of what was going on. But TC couldn’t yell to the medics about it. His shock had disabled his vocal processor. Mutely, he watched as little silver hands slid out from his brother’s cockpit. Little silver hands that now circled his arm… Curling around as the sparkling used him to help it pull itself from the safety of the ‘cockpit womb’…

Shaking himself back into reality, the blue Seeker instinctively curled his arms around the tiny creature. His optics opened wide in total disbelief as he looked down into innocent red orbs. His knee servos knocking, he cradled the sparkling tightly to his cockpit as he turned towards the busy medical team. All he knew was that he had to get one of them… He didn’t know what to do with the little thing… With shaking steps, he walked up to them… His free hand outstretched to tap Jinx on his shoulder armor…

With an excited yelp, the little sparkling spied the organic laying on the table as the medic turned their way. Beams of light emitted from his silver skin as he scanned for the organic’s DNA. All of his instincts told him that he must do this. He was not whole until he did! His skin bubbled, shifted, went through a series of various colors. A flash of light as bright as magnesium filled the trailer as he finished encoding the organic’s DNA into his own. His skin shimmered faintly, and then all light left him…

“Gooo.. ooooooo….. goooooo…….” he mewed as he looked up at the winged clone who held him. His little arms reaching up and waving.

“Too much blood loss.. We can’t stop it… We can’t save him…” Doc whispered as he blinked back tears.

Weakly, Darren opened his eyes one last time. He felt light. Like he was already in heaven… The words of the gentle medic seemed to come to him from a tunnel. Reality wavered around him like an ocean wave. He glanced over at the familiar blue Seeker. His dear TC… Dear TC who had always been like a son to the childless man. He saw tears in those red optics. Tears for him. He wanted to tell TC not to cry… Tell him to toast him with a Dr Pepper later on.. To celebrate his life.

As TC shifted, Darren saw what was in his arms. A tiny baby… A tiny black baby boy – who looked just like Darren in his baby pictures.. A slight smile graced the dying man’s lips as he realized what had happened. “Rhine….” he whispered, trying to tell them his family name.. This was his son in a sense… His son… His last thought as his soul left his body was that he was finally a father….

TC fell to his knees as the heart monitor flat-lined. The Seeker was inconsolable as he rocked back-and-forth and keened his sorrow. The newborn organomech cradled tight against his cockpit. The only thing he had left of dear Darren….

------

“We will miss you Darren, and always remember you.” Tears rolled shamelessly down Daniel’s cheeks as he finished the last rites. He watched as the crestfallen clones gently lower the man’s wrapped body into the deep trench they had dug.

Wrapping her arm around her brother’s waist, Sharon sobbed for her friend. Feeling digits on her shoulder, she turned to TC and buried herself in his offered arms.

“We will always have a piece of you with us Darren,” Sandy whispered as she looked down at the newborn she now carried in a pouch. The baby was asleep, blissfully unaware that the human he’d scanned for DNA was no more. Reaching down, the young woman stroked his head full of kinky hair. She marveled at his perfect little ears. His baby-soft dark skin… True, the deal had been that the sparkling would scan HER DNA. But now, she’d have it no other way. The little one was the spitting image of that strong black Marine who’d given his life to protect hers and the other women’s. She was honored to be his wet nurse.

“Indeed, a piece of a true hero,” Charge agreed. He hovered next to her whenever he could, his meta consumed by the new sparkling that he would raise as his own.

“Yes, ssssssss, true heroes.. Sssss true warriors!” Dinobot agreed. He stood on the other side of the woman, hovering as well, but for a different reason. The sparkling was of his ‘loins’ – and yet he was still amazed that he was the start of the new organomech species that would one day rise to glory. And now, to realize that HE was the organomech sire of one of the best that the Maximals would have… Well, it was icing on the cake to be sure.

“Little Rhinox… Cutie pie..” Sandy whispered as she stroked the baby’s hair. Odd name, but that’s what the medics swore they’d heard Darren say right as he died. So that’s what they’d named the newborn. An arm went over her shoulder, she didn’t even have to look to know that a certain red Seeker was peering over her shoulder at the sparkling. “He’s beautiful, Scream.”

The feminized Starscream model beamed happily. Still very weak from the spark separation, he was being helped by Doc under one arm and Jag under the other. “My sparkling,” he whispered, kissing the woman lightly on her cheek.

Charge glanced behind her at his fech mate. He was so BEAUTIFUL when he was maternal like this! A twinge of jealousy flew through his circuits as he noted the gentleness and familiarity of the Prowl clone’s digits upon Scream’s armor. Why was he jealous of Jag? He’d already told the mech that he could pursue the red Seeker after the birth. Yet now, he was feeling a subtle sense of regret over his decision. Averting his optics before Jag spied his emotions, Charge nodded to Scream, “A beautiful STRONG sparkling, you are an incredible mother Scream.”

Smile widening, Scream didn’t think much about it as Charge retracted his mask and kissed him lightly on his cheek plate. His entire meta was consumed by the sparkling that had grown within him. He was completely unawares of the silent interplay between the clones whom surrounded him.

Scream might be unawares, but Jag wasn’t. Glancing at Charge, his optics narrowed suspiciously as the clone kissed the fech. He didn’t like the vibes coming from the ground Commander one little bit.

A few clones behind them, one lowered his head in shame. He’d heard the two powerful warriors as they’d commented on ‘true heroes’. To him, it felt like a direct insult. Turning, he fled from the funeral, tears of shame rolling down his face plate. If he’d been a hero that day, Darren wouldn’t be in the ground. If he’d been a hero that day…… But he wasn’t… It was his fault that Darren had died.. All his fault…..

----
An hour or so later……

------

He sobbed as he stumbled back towards the parked convoy. He was useless. Completely and totally useless! Even Scream was ignoring him now. All Scream wanted to do was to cuddle with the sparkling and Charge. Opie’s spark felt like it was going to break. All those promises Scream had given him… All those beautiful stories about how they’d be together forever – was CRAP! All he’d been was a little fling for the fech… And what made it hurt even more was that he’d been so stupid that he hadn’t seen it!

Stumbling to the first trailer, he threw the door opened and stomped inside without so much as to think about which one it was. Storming into the first shower unit, he slammed the door behind him. “Fucking useless piece of crap!” he mumbled to himself. Turning on the water, he quickly washed the grime from his chassis in the mist. His scrubbing a little harsh, as he tried to wash the pain from his spark by trying to scrub the very paint from his chassis…

His shower now finished, the depressed Optimus clone stomped out of the shower and made his way to the trailer’s lounge area. His meta so full of self-pitying thoughts, that he didn’t even register who he was passing nor what they were doing. All he was focused on was getting his tail pipes onto the couch so that he could sit there and silently sulk - Which is exactly what he proceeded to do…

“Oh, the poor thing,” Fuscha murmured as she glanced over.

The Seeker who was busy eating her out glanced up, his optics narrowing slightly at the sight of the clone who’d gotten him and the others in trouble so long ago. “Ignore him, he’s nothing but trouble.” Nimbly, he began to slide a digit within her ready port.

Glancing down at him, the femme frowned slightly. She’d always been attracted to Prime clones, but after her advances had been pointedly ignored, she’d turned to the Seeker trine to satisfy her need for male clone companionship. Prion, Escalade and Firebird had been more than eager to ‘share’ her between them; which was exactly was had been going on in the Lower officer trailer #4 when Opie had stumbled in. His optics full of tears and his face plate sullen… Her spark went out to him. Pushing Prion away, the Elita clone sat up. “He’s not trouble. And plus, do you really WANT a clone in here watching us?” she demanded to know.

“She’s got a point,” Escalade snickered. The neon green Rainmaker clone poured a little more lubricant on his pressurized shaft and went back to stroking. He liked to watch Fuscha slag one of his trine mates; it was like a warm up for him.

Firebird rolled his optics, his wings retracting a bit in agitation. Since Opie had sat next to him, he elbowed him hard. “If you’re not involved in the orgy – then fucking leave!” he snorted.

No one wanted him! No one! Sniffing slightly, Opie stood up, more than ready to do as the Seeker had requested. But as his digits touched the doorknob, he was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder plate. Turning his head, he met the crystal blue orbs of the pink femme.

“You can stay Opie. Don’t worry about them,” Fucsha told him.

“But they don’t want me here. I understand. Why would they?” Trying to pull away from her, Opie again reached for the doorknob.

“What if I want you here?” she whispered.

“Fucking let the idiot leave Fuscha!” Prion snorted. He was perturbed that his interfacing had been interrupted by Opie of all clones.

“Yeah, he’s right. I’m nothing but an idiot,” Opie agreed. But tears filled his optics again. He’d caused these clones to be punished once. They hated them. Just like everyone hated him. He was useless.

“Just shutup Prion!” Fuscha shot back. Tightening her digits around Opie’s arm, she refused to let him leave. Deciding that another tact was needed, she seductively wrapped herself around the sad clone. Perhaps all he needed was a little attention? Maybe that’s why he’d come in here in the first place? To look for her? “Why don’t you join us Opie?”

“You’ve GOT to be kidding!” Escalade exclaimed as he rolled his optics.

“Dude’s the deadest fuck around!” Firebird agreed.

Opie glanced from the femme to the mech clones and back. “They’re right. I suck in the sack. I suck at everything,” he mumbled.

The femme was unfazed. Dragging him along, she forced him back towards the lounge area. “I’ll bet that if he WANTS to interface – he’s GOOD at it!” she shot back at Firebird. She squeezed Opie’s hand, assuming that that was the issue. Everyone knew about the history between him and the trine. Maybe this was a good time to change the relations?

“Question is – do any of US want to interface with the dead fuck?” Prion snickered. He glanced around at his trine mates and shrugged.

Opie’s face plate burned red hot. Hell, he couldn’t even get the Acid Trine to want to slag him – and they had the reputation of sticking their cables into anything that was willing. Once again, he tried to pull free from the femme.

“I want to,” Fuscha announced. She glanced around at her lovers as she circled the clone with her arms. “And you slackers don’t have enough cable to satisfy him. So just jack off while I do.” With that, she took Opie’s lips.

Opie didn’t know what to do. He craved the attention she was bestowing upon him. The pain in his spark seemed to deaden a bit. It was as if her chassis against his numbed him of his pain. Looking into the femme’s optics he saw a promise of friendship there. A chance to maybe please someone…. Her hands slid down his back armor. Teasing digits squeezed his tail pipes… His spark pulsed a little. Her obvious interest bringing him a little out of his spark-broken funk…

“Looks like you just got replaced by a ground clone,” Escalade teased Prion. Taking another sip of his energon, he renewed the stroking of his cable. He really didn’t care whom warmed up whom – as long as he could enjoy the free show. That’s what HE was into – free porn.

Slamming his afterburners down on the couch in a disgusted huff, Prion snagged a cube of energon. Swallowing the contents in one big gulp, he settled down with his own bottle of lube to wait his turn with the femme. It always took more than one clone to satisfy her. She was a hell of a lay!

“Here, have some,” Fuscha giggled as she handed Opie a cube. She trailed digits gently along his arm, her optics darkening with desire.

Catching up on his oxygen intakes now that the femme had finally released his lip components, the Optimus clone dumbly accepted the offered cube. Clones really didn’t need energon, but they’d found that the over energized feeling it bestowed on them for hours on end – felt good. And right now Opie craved something – ANYTHING – that would take his spark pain away! Like perhaps this tease of a femme…

….A flash of a memory echo teased his meta. A memory of Elita One spread out on a berth, her optics gleaming in mischief as she dipped her digits within her in a slow rhythm…

------
Thirty minutes later… Everyone’s getting pretty buzzed…

------

“You know *hiccup* this clone’s actually good with his glossa!” Escalade leaned back into the couch, his wings retracting as he watched his cable disappear down Opie’s throat again. The clone’s glossa swirled around his girth, causing blissful sensations to roll through the Seeker’s nets.

“What’s this?” Prion hiccupped as he helped Fuscha lap at Opie’s exposed ports. There were little strings taped to the edge of each. The strings disappearing into his depths… It was a strange setup for sure. And he’d seen a lot of strange things when it came to what clones did with their ports.

Fuscha shrugged and tugged gently on one of the strings. She licked as she pulled it slowly, working her glossa in-and-out of his front port as Prion played with his aft. Her spark leapt as the Prime clone let out muffled moans. She’d dreamed of this day. Though more with Charge than with Opie, truth be told. But she could very well pretend that this repair bot was their fearless Ground Commander now couldn’t she?

At first, Opie tensed when they started pulling out the eggs from within him. Scream had installed those there. Scream hadn’t wanted him to need to be with anyone. But who cared now? Not Scream… No Scream had just used him… So why should he stop them? Relaxing, Opie resumed bobbing his head up and down. His ports relaxing their grip on the eggs… All he wanted was to please them. Then maybe they’d like him..

“This is weird,” Prion snickered as the egg popped out and into his hand.

“No way!” Firebird hiccupped. Staggering forward with one hand still stroking himself, he grabbed the egg shaped vibrator. He’d always wanted one. The senior officers all had them – they were beyond coveted by the interface-driven clones!

“What is it?” Fuscha asked. She turned the one in her hand, looking at it from all angles.

“Spread your legs an I’ll *hiccup* show you!” the dark green Seeker snickered. Then he’d talk her into installing the one in her hand – inside HIM! His optics gleamed in anticipation of that pleasure…

“Before she does THAT – I want to try something,” Escalade moaned. Damn Opie was good at giving a blow! The Seeker almost wished he had seduced the clone instead of forcing him way back when. He could’ve really used some release with a glossa like this during this bloody long march! He’d have to make sure this wasn’t a one time deal. After seeing what Opie was like when he WANTED to fuck – Escalade wasn’t going to find much better.

“What’s that?” Prion was always interested in Escalade’s ideas. The Seeker sure had a good imagination when it came to interfacing. He glanced up at his friend, even as he slowly worked a third digit into Opie’s tight forward port. It was obvious that the clone hadn’t interfaced for some time. His port wasn’t stretched anymore. He added his glossa a bit, giving him some more lubrication.

Opie tensed slightly as his port was stretched. The sting a little unexpected, but not unusual considering how long it’d been since he interfaced last. Moaning against the thick cable sliding in and out of his mouth, he rocked into Prion’s digits. The slight burn from his port masking the pain in his broken spark…. The warmth and fuzziness radiating from the energon coursing through his systems made it all seem ‘right’. His interface systems were going wild now. Cable trying to force its way right out of his panel!

“Sit on me *hiccup* Opie.” Escalade shot a wink at his yellow friend. He stroked Opie’s audio receptors gently, encouraging the young Prime clone to do everything he asked. They were going to so rock this kid’s world tonight!

Taking it more as an order, Opie obediently slid up the clone’s air frame. He winced a little as Prion’s digits slid out of him. Their absence made him feel empty again for a moment… Climbing onto the couch, he guided Escalade’s thick shaft to his forward port entrance. His chassis tensing as the tip of it stretched him painfully….

“Come on Opie, sit on it!” the Seeker encouraged. Grabbing Opie’s hips, he jabbed quickly into him. His overenergized processor not even taking into account the tightness of his little-used port… Greedily he took his sweet lips, forcing his glossa in just as he forced his cable in to the tightness…

Gasping as he was impaled, the Prime clone grabbed the Seeker’s wings tightly. His digits dug into the smooth surface leaving a dent in their wake. He wanted this! He wanted to be wanted! Accepting Escalade’s domination of his mouth and his port – Opie moaned into his mouth. His port burned like fire as those quick jabs filled him… Stretched him… A burn that drew his attention away from the pain of spark break… He melted into the Seeker. Rode the Seeker right to the point of overload! Suddenly, the sweet burn stopped.

Pulling from his lips, Escalade grinned and tapped the end of his olfactory sensor with a digit. “Not so fast. We’ve got plenty to fill your need, Sweet Lips.” Slipping a hand down between Opie’s legs, he slowly worked a digit alongside his cable.

“I, uh…” Opie didn’t want to stop him. Didn’t want to say no to anything… But….

But before he could say anything, Fuscha commanded his lips. Her glossa entwining with his, whisking away his pain… His thoughts…. His sorrow… He moaned into her as his port was ruthlessly stretched, unable to escape – nor even wanting to now. Somehow to feel physical pain was ‘right’. He deserved it… He craved it again… He arched into Escalade as the Seeker resumed his thrusts. They were long and slow now.

The Seeker kept his digit inside Opie the entire time, never letting his wet slit fully close, overfilling it as he thrust his shaft back in. The tightness was slightly painful around his length. Squeezing him incredibly hard… Yet it felt incredible! So incredible! He kneaded the clone’s aft with his other hand, his digits teasing the opening to Opie’s aft port as he watched the femme and mech clone try and suck each other’s face plates off…

“Ok, Ok that’s enough of that.” Escalade stopped his thrusts and forced the clone to sit down on him, driving his cable yet deeper. He pushed Opie and Fuscha apart. “Now activate your cable Opie. Bitch has got a hell of a glossa!”

Realizing what his trine mate was up to, Prion grinned. “Yeah, best blow job in the Unit! You’ll LOVE it!”

Glancing from ‘friend’ to ‘friend’, Opie slowly activated his cable. Fuscha smiled, and with eager digits helped to tease it out of his confines. Escalade gently forced him to sit perfectly vertical, his thick cable still impaling him… Stretching him… But now, the Seeker glanced at the femme. “Well, you always wanted to suck on a Prime clone – now’s your chance,” he teased.

She smacked Escalade on the side of his helm for that tease. They all knew who she was REALLY after. But Opie would do for now. Wetting her digits with her glossa, she ran them along Opie’s length, grinning mischievously as she did so. She was rewarded for her skill, as his optics flickered and tried to offline for a moment.

“Hey, and while she’s doing that…” Firebird climbed onto the couch. Sitting on the top of it, he looped a leg behind Escalade. His taunt cable now right over his trine mate’s wing. “..Why don’t YOU show me what Escalade was bragging about?” he challenged Opie, his optics gleaming.

“Me?” Opie gasped. Glancing down, he trembled as his cable disappeared between the femme’s pert lips. He put a hand on her back armor to stabilize himself. His port lubrication began to release more as his systems responded to her wonderful glossa working up and down his length. The Seeker’s were right – she WAS incredible!

“No, Steel – of COURSE I mean you!” Impatiently, the Seeker grabbed his sensitive audio receptors and forced him to swallow his cable.

Wincing at the pain searing through him from the twisting of his audio receptors, Opie tried not to gag as the big cable slid down his throat. At the same time, the Seeker beneath him began to slowly thrust again. His cable stretching him wide inside, hitting his very core…

Slowly, his port stretched to accommodate the use. His engines revved higher as his meta assaulted with incredible sensations from both his port and his cable. The femme’s masterful glossa working him close to overload…. She slowed, as if she knew she was pushing him too far… And Opie rode the second wave close to the edge – but not over.

“Mmmm, tasty.” Prion licked again. He knelt in front of the couch between Prion’s legs and lapped up some of the lubricant now dripping from the Optimus clone.

Opie tensed as he felt a glossa lick the entrance to his forward port. It teased the stretched opening around the base of the cable he now rode. Escalade picked his aft up as he lifted, the glossa flicking in and out just as the cable left. Then he was slammed back down onto the think shaft. The femme matching the other’s glossa move for move on his cable. With a moan of complete release, Opie’s chassis went limp.

“He’s actually pretty good!” Firebird snickered. His digits were locked around Opie’s helm. He wasn’t about to let the fragger quit blowing him just because he’d overloaded.

“Never would have thought that when we were recruits,” Escalade agreed. Running his digits along Opie’s chassis, he again reminded himself that they had sure lost a lot of good fun times by forcing the guy those first few time. He’d make sure they didn’t make that mistake again! The more the merrier was the philosophy of the Acid Trine.

“Hold him still. I want a piece of that port,” Prion told Escalade. He pumped a couple digits in and out of Opie’s aft port. He was tight.. Almost too tight…

“But I wanted some of his cable!” Fuscha pouted. This HAD been her idea – hadn’t it?!? After all, the Seekers hadn’t even wanted to slag the Prime clone at first.

“Shit, I got an idea – hold on.” Escalade coordinated their positions as they moved. Soon, he was flat on his wings on the couch, Opie still straddling him. Fuscha holding the limp clone up as she slid to sit in front of him, her digits guiding Opie’s shaft within her ready port. Firebird maintained his perch on the back of the couch and resumed his thrusts into the rebooting clone’s mouth. Meanwhile, Prion put a leg over Escalade’s and positioned the head of his shaft at the entrance to Opie’s aft port.

Everyone was satisfied and getting what they wanted. Or in Opie’s case – getting far more than they wanted! He rebooted to the painful stretching of his aft port as Prion eased himself inside; the unexpectedly wonderful sensation of his own cable sliding inside the slick depths of the femme; the continued pummeling of his forward port by Escalade’s thick cable…. And to top it off, he was helplessly giving Firebird a blow. His sensitive audio receptors still being held captive by those strong digits….

Gripping his digits around Fuscha’s round aft, he let Prion’s thrusts forward into him force his own cable into her. The timing was perfect between the four participants. And they rocked in synch for over forty five minutes straight. Each one overloaded several times separately – but the others simply held their limp form up as they rebooted – still engaging them in the orgy of interfacing the entire time.

Finally, Opie began to get beyond sore. His ports burned… His glossa was tired… But his partners seemed insatiable… Swallowing the contents of another full cube… He let the overenergized haze consume him as they used his chassis for another hour…. The pain of spark-break far in the back corners of his processors..

-------

Inferno cocked his head as he sniffed again. The perfume of recent interface radiated from this clone. It was strong, so strong. And the ant instinct threatened to take over his logic core. The Ant instinct to mate - in reaction to pheromones…

“I’m fine, really,” Opie replied. His optics on the ground, he went to shuffle past the great warrior. Though he now had friends who wanted to party with him again – he was still pretty much worthless when it came to clones. Nothing that a badass warrior like Inferno should waste time with..

Scuttling around the clone with ease, the organomech blocked his way. “You wish to mate,” he noted.

Opie’s face plate heated up. Staggering back a few steps, he shook his head. “You’ve got Muffin. I’m, uh, well…”

“You need to mate. I will accommodate you. As fellow soldiers of the hive we must help each other!” Grabbing the clone, he tucked him under a leg. In alt mode, he was much more at ease in covering rough terrain than a clone in bot mode. Scuttling past the rigs, he made for the cluster of abandoned building they’d parked near. They would find privacy there. He could help his hive brother out.

Neither one noticed the very curious look that a certain Prowl clone gave them as they went by him. Turning his head, he watched the pair disappear between two buildings. Something was wrong with Opie, he was sure of it. And after his shift, he was going to track him down and get to the bottom of it. With that decision, Jag resumed his rounds.

The great Ant gently laid his companion down on the dusty floor of a small outbuilding. Stepping down on Opie’s arms with two of his appendages, he warmed up his middle ones by rubbing them along the clone’s armor plating. “This is a great honor. I have always dreamed of being with a clone of one of the great war queens,” he whispered to Opie. Leaning down, he gently flicked his glossa along the clone’s thin audio receptors, eliciting a wonderful response.

“Y- you WANT to be with me?” Opie gasped. His optics filling with tears as he looked up at the strange organomech. Just this morning he’d been basically thrown to the gutter by his one true love – and now everyone seemed to want to slag him. They liked him!

“Affirmative my hive brother. We ‘help’ each other.” Inferno slid his middle legs seductively down Opie’s chassis. Rubbing…. Touching….Teasing…. It always amused him that these clones seemed to appreciate what he could accomplish in beast mode. Back when he was in the Megatron Queen’s hive – they’d never done anything in this mode; which was a pity, since six appendages can give a lot more pleasure than four!

Moaning as he arched under the mighty warrior, Opie didn’t question when the Ant used his back appendages to spread his legs apart and hold them down. Those touches and licks along his chassis drove his meta wild. “P.. Please Inferno!” he gasped as his forward port panel slid aside. Sure, he was sore from the earlier orgy, but he wasn’t about to let this chance pass by! He could handle it. Handle being loved for a moment by a mech as great as Inferno.

“You are an eager partner.” Inferno slid the tips of his middle appendages inside the willing clone. Gently opening his wet slit, he slid them deeper and deeper, his spark pulsing in excitement each time he heard Optimus’s voice begging him for more. Bending down, he added his glossa to his appendages, bringing the clone so close to overload shutdown – that he was afraid he’d actually gone and pushed him too far.

“Please fill me Inferno…. Please…” Opie moaned, he rocked his head back and forth, the pleasure more intense than he’d ever thought possible.

“As you command – my hive brother,” Inferno whispered in a deep passion-filled voice. Lifting up, he positioned himself just so, lowering himself onto the pinned clone as he engaged and directed his swelling plug into the offered port.

“Innnnnffffffeeeeerrrrrrnnnnooooo!” Opie screamed as his port was filled by the massive plug. His chassis shook as he took the entire length. He had only thought he was sore before this…. But it was too late to stop.. Biting down hard on one of the appendages that pinned his arms, he screamed with every thrust inside him. The physical pain driving away his loneliness… His sparkache…. Filling his need – to be wanted…

Driven now by pure instinct, the Ant now rammed into his partner, his meta consumed by pure lust… By the pure need for total release…. He came quickly. Hot gism spewing forth from his plug, filling Opie’s port with hot liquid… He thrust a few more times before collapsing on the spent clone. “Opie…” he whispered as his optics darkened.

For a long while Opie just lay there under the sleeping organomech, undecided as to whether he wanted to leave the security that the mech’s very presence gave him or to face the cruel world alone again. Because that’s what he still was – alone… Only when he was being slagged did he feel loved again…

“So am I going to have to write you up for missing a shift?” Jag’s voice interrupted his ponderings.

Face plate burning in shame, Opie began to try and wiggle out from under the mech. He’d been busted interfacing when he should’ve been getting ready for his shift! If Jag didn’t already look down on him – the workaholic sure would now. “I… I, uh, didn’t notice the time. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, get right on it!” he stammered as he tried to stand.

Jag caught him as he swooned. “Anyone ever told you to take it easy when you get back into interfacing again?”

Caught offguard, the young Prime’s optics filled with tears. “I’m sorry Jag. I’m pathetic. I.. I just want them all to like me!” He was sure that the cop had already found out about the orgy. Jag had his sources. He knew everyone’s business!

Keeping the weak and sobbing clone from hitting the ground, Jag leaned down, slid his arm quickly behind his legs and hefted him up. Cradling the youngster against him, he kissed the top of his helm. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not judging you either. But you don’t have to go and slag everybody in order for them to ‘like’ you – do you understand me?”

Burying his face plate into the strong clone’s hood, Opie mutely nodded. He felt like total slag now. He’d slagged so many clones and mechs in such a short time frame – that he couldn’t even work his shift. He was useless!

Carrying the young Prime clone towards their trailer, Jag pointedly returned Charge’s glare. It was because of Charge that all this was happening! Charge was finding ways to destroy what little bit of self esteem that Opie had developed.

“You’ll be fine Opie. Just come to me if you need physical release,” Jag whispered as he laid Opie onto their shared bunk. The spot that Scream usually defragged in was notably empty. The Seeker was most likely in Sandy’s bunk right now. Snuggling next to her as he watched her breastfeed the sparkling he’d carried.

“But… but… He’s …. It’s me HE HATES ME! I WAS JUST A FLING!” Opie sobbed as he felt around where Scream should be.

Sliding in next to him, Jag wrapped a strong arm around the youngster. “No you weren’t. I’m not either. He’s just fixated on the sparkling right now.”

“So…. So he’s still gonna start *sniff*sniff* officially dating us now?” Opie looked up at him with pleading optics. He was still head-over-peds for Scream….

“Grammy informed me that this behavior is very normal for new mothers. Its hard for husbands to understand.” Wiping away some of Opie’s tears, Jag gave him a slight smile. “But WE will understand. WE have patience – right Opie?”

“I, uh, guess so.” Opie looked downcast as he realized that it would still be some time before that day. Then he remembered what he’d just done that day! He’d cheated on Scream. Wailing, he buried his head into a pillow.

“Can I assume from his behavior that he will not be on shift today – sir?” Glock optic’d Opie’s wailing form with obvious contempt for the show of weakness. He also seemed to add ‘sir’ as if it was a second thought. An idea that wasn’t quite right.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bunk, the Prowl clone gave an exacerbated sigh. “Just a slight misunderstanding,” he explained with an offhanded nod towards Opie. “But yes, you are correct; he’s in no condition for work.” Jag glanced at the red Seeker who was standing behind the Megatron clone, his red optics darting wildly as if he was expecting some type of attack. Flight training might do the Seeker some good. “You and Dante, join up with Blue and engage in some flight training as a team.”

Glancing from Jag to Opie and back again, Glock nodded his agreement to the assignment. “Inform Opie that he needs to meet with me after our shift.” From his tone, he was going to give the youngster a toughen-up lecture.

Jag knew that Opie was already starting to look up to the recruit. Hearing it from him seemed to have more impact than from others. So it was a very good idea. “1200 sharp then,” he replied with a curt nod.

“1200” the Megatron clone agreed. With a snap of peds, he and his boyfriend marched out…..

------

Note: Yeah, loooooooonnnnnnggggg chapter. But there was so much that had to be said. Don’t know when I’ll get in the mood to write for half a Sat. though. It was a great break – now back to fretting about work! I REALLY appreciate your encouragement here. I did receive more from AFF than FF this round!
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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)