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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: Part 2
Written by StSE: BW, G1 and TFA
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Standing in front of one of the many holes eaten through the thick metal sides of the water tower; Daniel peered through his long distance viewer. The holographic screen built in to his helmet zoomed in and out at will, giving him a superior view of the outskirts and suburbs of what once was Little Rock. “Damned clones!” he growled under his breath - his hazel eyes following the chaos of what appeared to be almost rioting gangs of infected clones running rampant through the empty streets, destroying what was left of abandoned cars, street signs, or pretty much anything else that impeded their rampage. There was a press against his side, the almost inaudible growl of a disagreeing motor to his muffled comments. Realizing his error, he patted the clone next to him. “I meant to say infected clones, sorry ‘bout that” he apologized.
A self satisfied snort was all the reply that his correction earned. With a tap on his ass, the clone wandered off. Daniel smiled behind his golden visor. No matter what anyone said, his temperamental Dragstrip clone mate was everything he’d ever wanted in a second husband. He was loyal, straightforward and worshipped the very ground the man walked on. To top it off, Speed could stand and fight alongside him. A better match could not have been made!
The retired SEAL stretched his shoulders a bit as he continued to study his enemies from afar. He’d agreed to lead this mission since he was the most experienced in urban combat of the military men. Had to admit that it still felt good to be looked on as a leader by the Ranger unit, many of whom were almost half his age, a man wanted to be strong no matter how past his prime he was supposed to be. Yes, they all knew that Daniel had been forced out of the Navy when he had come out of the closet – but the fact that he was gay was a mute point now. In this insane world, good men were worth their weight in gold – no matter where their passions lay.
“Captain Trakersssssssssly,” a quiet hiss of a voice said as another member of the party moved into the empty space next to him. Daniel didn’t even bother to look, for there was only one mech whom spoke like that. His trusted friend and ally, Dinobot – he merely nodded his head to acknowledge the organomech’s presence.
“We need to ssssssspread out. Hit the enemy hard from, hisssssssss, multiple possssssitionssssssss.” Dinobot squinted his red optics, counting the hundreds of opponents in the distance. He fidgeted from ped-to-ped in impatience, for he wasn’t a mech that liked to sit in wait for any fight.
“We will – when the time is right. First we must give the undercover team enough time to complete their mission and give us the signal,” Daniel informed him. Knowing that the mech was going to bitch about waiting, he debated on if he should go ahead and disengage his helmet’s audio receptors.
Dinobot didn’t give him time to disengage them. “Time! Time! Ssssssssss – we must hit them NOW! Before they discover usssssssss!”
“We don’t go – until the time is right,” the man replied in an even tone. Though he valued the mech’s fighting ability – he sometimes wondered how the mechs ever survived if this was the best they had in the warrior department.
The Predacon growled in disagreement, but before he could go further with his argument – Sergeant Martin interceded. “Yep, Captain Trakersly once led SEAL Team Six. They were the best-of-the-best and never failed in their covert operations under him.” He slapped Daniel on his shoulder armor; he tactfully changed the subject “Bet you otters would’ve loved having these battle suits!”
Realizing that the conversation was over concerning his disagreement with their tactics, Dinobot snorted contemptuously and transformed to beast mode. “Your thin armor isssssss no match for Predacon alloy!” his tail whipped back and forth to emphasize his insult.
“Why don’t ya march ya Predacon bullshit right out into those streets – if ya so freakin’ tough!” another mech muttered from across the empty water tower they were holed up in.
“Why you usssssselesssssss piece of obssssssolete cybertronian sssssslag!” Dinobot whirled and spat at the small con. “You’re only here becaussssssse they dragged your ssssssniveling aft by forccccccce!”
Rumble shrugged, not insulted in the least. “At least I ain’t dumb like ya. I ain’t stupid ‘nough to want to go face those psycho clones without no plan.” He smirked at the organomech. He knew without a doubt his next words would be sure to set off the dinobum. “Even Megatron would have a plan. You’re just like Starscream was. Runnin’ ya mouth with nothin’ to back it up.”
With a snarl, Dinobot launched himself at the obnoxious mech. It took all of the Cyclonus clones to pry them apart.
“Gem, Sebastian – make sure they behave!” Daniel ordered once they’d finely managed to toss the two combatants to opposite sides of the Water tower. The Steeljaw and Ravage clones growled as they stationed themselves in front of the mechs, baring their long fangs in threat.
Rumble snickered and plopped himself down on his tailpipes. Lifting a hand, he made the intergalactic gesture for a feline scratch offer and grinned at the Ravage clone who was charged with keeping him in line. Having been partnered with the real feline mech for millennia, he knew his weakness.
Dinobot’s optics widened in outrage as the Ravage clone curled up next to the other mech and began to purr. “Your presssssssence isssss…. Intolerable!” he growled under his breath.
“Yeah? Well ya ain’t much fun neither!” Rumble shot back, his mischievous grin widening as the feline rolled against him. Yep, cassetticons were brothers through-and-through. Didn’t matter if they were clones of the mechs or not. He’d sure enjoyed life since the Rangers had shown up with their cassetticon clones. The clones had naturally gravitated towards him because he was one of their mechs – almost seeming to idolize him to a point - allowing him the experience being something of a leader for the first time in his existence. And it was made that much more sweeter by the fact that it truly infuriated the arrogant Predacon off to no end.
“Fun?!? You dare to want thingssssss to be ‘fun’ at a time of war?!?” Dinobot’s tail whipped from side to side in aggravation. “No wonder we’ll replacccccccccce your kind!”
Now THAT comment pissed Rumble off. “At least we ain’t stickin’ our cables in wimpy flesh femmes!” he insulted back.
Dave interceded before violence could again erupt in their ranks. “Why don’t both of you just shut the hell up! If it weren’t for us wimpy flesh creatures – your ass would’ve been psycho clone breakfast from what I’ve heard,” he snarled at Rumble. Then he turned his golden visored helm towards Dinobot “and without these obsolete mechs – your kind will never exist!”
Both mechs grumbled under their breaths but did zip their mouth components together – at least for the moment. Scott couldn’t help but snicker at the pair of sulking Cybertronians. It was funny how adolescent they always acted.
Dinobot’s reptilian eyes narrowed, “Sssssss don’t know why YOU are snickering. At least I’M able to asssss you humans sssssay ‘score’ with a woman!”
Arching an amused eyebrow up, the powerfully built man regarded the mech. It was true that he had yet to figure out how to catch Andrea’s eye. But he would – given enough time. Catching women was a fun game for him. The fact that he now had to work the maze between possessive clones to get to his prize only made life more interesting… “Score? From what I hear – Jane’s got to do all the work for you.”
With the talk turning to the Unit’s women, many clone audios tuned in. For many of the Unit clones were a tad bit concerned about the young mens’ potential interest in their human mates. Amongst them was Cloudhopper. His optics followed Scott’s every move. He and Dunce had both noticed the interest between their respective humans – and to be quite honest, neither clone REALLY cared to share. But since it was now a marriage rule that clones encourage human reproduction and protect the offspring as their own – they were totally confused as to how to handle the conflicting emotions.
“Sssssssstttt, just as your clone fuck buddy does all the work,” Dinobot shot back with a knowing grin. He had learned that MOST human males avoided male-to-male intercourse. And even if they participated in it due the lack of female availability – they would generally avoid ever admitting it.
But Scott wasn’t the average man. He had an incredible sense of humor and plenty of self confidence to go with it. He shrugged as if it was nothing at all. “Someone has to train them. And I’m damn good at it!”
The mech growled and looked away in disgust. These humans were aggravating in their ability to take any conversation, any insult – and turn it around. No matter how long he lived with them – he’d never get used to their ability of sheer manipulation. Sometimes it was better just to pretend the conversation had never occurred. His meta drifted back to the good times of only having to deal with Maximals and Predacons…..
Cloudhopper studied the man. So, he was good at ‘training’ clones in the art of interfacing? His optics narrowed a bit as he contemplated on this fact. He knew that the Unit might force him and Dunce to allow their humans to copulate if they so desired. Jealousy raked the Skywarp clone’s processor at the mere thought of it. His hands curled into tight fists, but he stilled himself from outwardly showing his emotional state. Feeling the sensation of being watched, he turned and met the golden visor of Daniel. [Remember what I told you] the Captain privately comlinked to him.
[Allow myself to get to know the suitor – before I deny the suitor] the Skywarp clone repeated the words that Daniel had told him less than a week ago. Daniel was like the clone confidante. You could go to him with any human-clone interpersonal question and he would give you some good advice. Since he was so attached to Speed, none of the other clones ever viewed him as possible competition for their humans’ love.
The man nodded, his warm smile felt but not seen through the visor. [Scott’s a good man – though a bit of a womanizer. He might just give you the children Andrea wants – and then run off after another piece of ass. Wouldn’t that be what you wanted – offspring without the man hanging around? Use the time that we have to sit and wait to get to know him]
Cloudhopper’s optics glanced over at Rumble – the mech ‘twin’ to the clone that was Scott’s self-appointed fuck buddy. Rumble and Frenzy models were as possessive and obnoxious as the real mechs. How would Dunce feel if he thought another clone was making overtures at his man while he worked undercover?
Daniel noticed the shift in the optics, understood the clone’s body language. [I wouldn’t worry about Dunce too much. Scott can smooth anything over later]
So the mission commander was actually hinting that he should make some kind of move at Scott? Cloudhopper gave him a confused look.
[Hey bud, would YOU rather be the one who chose the sire of your future human children – or get surprised by finding her in the sack with a man that you hated?] Daniel asked him.
[She wouldn’t dare cheat on me!] the purple one snarled back over their comlink.
The man shrugged, [She’s young and these guys are hotter than any clone could ever be. I’m just telling you that if it were me in your shoes – I’d rather hand pick the hunk that my woman is going to cheat on me with. At least then you’re still in control of the situation]
Cloudhopper’s optics turned back onto Scott’s frame. If any human knew what women would uncontrollably lust after – it was Daniel. If he said that Andrea might find Scott so irresistible that she wouldn’t be able to say no, he was probably right. [So, you believe that we will be waiting for the signal for an extended period of time?] Cloudhopper asked.
[Affirmative. At least a week or two. They have a lot of recon and demo prep to do] the Captain agreed. [It’ll get cold at night. Since his two clones are undercover, why don’t you offer to share heat – since we don’t dare start any fires?]
With a slight tip of his chin, the Skywarp clone made clear his silent agreement to a course of action.
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……Later that night.......
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After deciding that half of the Cyclonus clones would stand guard for the night, the team shared a cold meal. They played cards and joked in hushed voices to waste the time away. Waiting out a long mission was always arduous; the military men were accustomed to this and discussed it with the more impatient clones and mechs. After the sun had been set for several hours, men started moving off to find some semblance of privacy along the water tower’s thick walls, unrolling their sleeping mats and allowing favored clones to cuddle up against them under the sleeping bags. This shared body heat allowed the men, mechs and clones to survive the plummeting nightly temperatures without building fires and risking discovery.
Cloudhopper had sat near Scott most of the evening, watching and learning the man’s habits. The man was a likeable character, he was outgoing and full of quick wit – traits that the clone knew without a doubt must be irresistible to his human girlfriend. Swallowing down his repulsion at the mere thought of sharing her with another, the clone promised himself to take Daniel’s advice. He would have control as long as he was the one that CHOSE the man to father Andrea’s offspring. And for the rather possessive clone, control was everything.
“Well, night guys,” Scott said as he stood and stretched. Grabbing his heavy backpack, he threw it over one shoulder with ease. Glancing around, he spied an empty area next to the base of the far wall. Looked like a good spot to him. As he strode towards it, he kept his ears pealed for clone steps – after all, Daniel HAD informed him of the advice given to a particular clone seeker. A grin crossed his handsome lips, for he hadn’t minded the Captain’s ‘interference’ in the least. It would only help him negotiate this maze of clone-human interrelations in order to get the prize he had come to desire so much. Having a gay captain did seem to have some major advantages in the women department.
Making it to his chosen spot, Scott shrugged off his pack. But before he could kneel and unstrap his bed roll, a clone hand stopped him. “Allow me to assist you,” Cloudhopper offered.
Scott stepped back briefly in surprise, almost instinctively clocking the clone upside his helm. “Shit bro! Don’t sneak up on me like that during a mission!”
The Skywarp clone frowned; he hadn’t meant to start off on a bad foot. “I, uh, apologize for warping over. I didn’t realize that it would irritate you.”
The man patted him on an intake, “Naw, don’t worry yourself over it. Just forgot that you can warp like those guys do.” He nodded towards the hulking Cyclonus models that were standing guard by various look-out holes in the walls.
“Yeah, they all used to be my model. Then they got boring,” Cloudhopper snickered. The purple and black Seeker models were known for their cutting humor.
“Yeah, pretty boring I’ll agree,” Scott quipped. He needed to get inside this clone’s head so that he could get underneath Andrea’s clothes.
The clone spread out the bedroll, then assisted Scott in taking his battle suite off. Since the soldier’s personal clones were off undercover – he explained that some clone needed to help. Made perfect sense to the clone, and was a great excuse to find out what Daniel said would be so female-irresistible about the man. Cloudhopper’s fingertips touched Scott’s hard muscled frame as he clicked the releases to the thigh and calf armor and slipped them free. The human’s body was almost as hard as the armor itself! The purple clone couldn’t help but understand why his dear Andrea lusted after this man, heck, his own pleasure programs were threatening to react to his presence.
Stripped down to his underclothes, Scott grinned as the clone carefully piled the armor next to his sleeping bag. Now, clad only in thin shorts and a tee shirt – the briskness of the cooling air hit his skin. “Yep, gonna be another night in the freezer,” he joked to the clone as Cloudhopper straightened and faced him.
They were off the same height, the clone noted with approval - Which probably meant that his potential offspring would also be of similar height. For some reason this fact seemed most satisfying to the clone. He’d like the sons he’d raise as his own to be as much like him as humans could be. Their eyes locked for a moment before the human sat down and began to pull his sleeping bag up over him.
“Night buddy, thanks for the help,” Scott said. He didn’t want to be too forward with the clone, might scare him off. No, better to let the clone make the move…
Cloudhopper stared down at him for a moment, trying to think of what he should do. Daniel had told him to pursue this man. Make the man in some ways – his. Ok, he’d try it. “Temperatures drop too low for a human to adequately supply enough heat.” He’d heard this quote many times in the Unit; Made sense to use it now in order to get closer to the man.
“Yeah, well, my partners are all undercover right now. Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Scott replied, though he made sure to shiver enough for a clone’s sharp optics to notice – without being too terribly obvious about it.
“I will supply heat for you,” Cloudhopper offered. It was an innocent enough offer – was it not? Clones were notorious in their affinity to defragging next to another – preferably a human.
Scott made grunting sounds as he scooted over to make room as if it wasn’t really his idea – nor on the top of the list of things he’d rather do. “Yeah, guess I can make some room. Those wings make you twice as wide as my boys.”
The clone grinned, “They retract fully,” he explained. The whine of hydraulics could be heard as he knelt and slid in next to Scott. Sure enough, his wingtips could barely be seen now.
“Learn something new everyday with you clones!” Scott shifted onto his side, and put his head on a hand so he could look down at the clone. “So, full hydraulics – like the Ospreys? Let me see.” His other hand went across the clone’s cockpit and around an intake, his fingers probing the seams along the wing edge.
Cloudhopper’s optics widened in surprise as unexpected pleasure signals raced through his chassis. Most of the Unit knew that a Seeker’s wings were one of their most sensitive regions – did Scott know this as well? His optics met the man’s eyes, and he saw the answer clear as can be.
A knowing smile covered Scott’s chiseled features. “Told them that I knew my clones,” he purred. Lowering his head, he let the scruff on his chin tickle the clone’s soft neck alloy. “You and I both know that you didn’t come over here simply to be helpful. You’ve got a secret agenda – now don’t you?”
A whine escaped Cloudhopper’s lips as he fought the rising pleasure program within him. His ports had never felt the attention of a man. And to have such an incredible specimen touching his wings…. “Y-yes…”
Seductively, Scott slid a leg over the clone’s thigh. “Yes – what?” he pressured, his lips softly touching the gray alloy of the Seeker’s neck.
“mmmmm… Yes …. I, uh, have an agenda…” Cloudhopper was flustered beyond flustered. The man KNEW he was up to something. Everything had been blown!
Nipping his neck, the soldier grinned as his chassis trembled underneath him. Might as well get things out in the open between them before he had his fun… “And let me guess..” nibble, nibble, “that agenda was for you to pre-approve me before allowing me to date Andrea? Hmmmmm?”
“mmmmmmmm,” his wingtips trembled with each nibble making logical thought processes difficult, “Yeah, something like that,” he admitted.
“Ok, so man-to-clone,” Scott rubbed his leg up the clone’s chassis enjoying the reaction…
“Hey, keep it fucking down over there!” one of the other soldiers whispered loudly from the opposite wall.
“Yeah Scott – keep your clone fuckin’ to yourself would ya?” another added - to much snickering amongst men, mechs and clones alike.
The interruption merely made Scott chuckle. “Bunch of jealous bastards,” he whispered in Cloudhopper’s audio. “Anyways, as I was saying: Man-to-clone we both know that you’ve got the hottest woman on Earth as your mate. And well, I want the opportunity to share in her - attentions.”
The comments from the other soldiers had broken the pleasure spell a bit for Cloudhopper. He was now able to think a little more clearly. Reaching up, he dared to touch the man’s tight pec through his tee shirt. He could feel the steady pulse of the human’s heart through the hot skin. “And clone-to-man I’m, well, not sure I want to share,” the clone paused, his engine threatening to race as he felt a nipple, “but Andrea will one day want what I can’t give her.” He became bolder with his touch as Scott didn’t stop him. Granted, Scott HAD a clone fuck buddy so it should’ve been obvious to the Seeker that he wouldn’t be likely to say no to a clone’s advance. “And I want to be the one to choose who she gets to consider.” There, he’d said it to the man, laid the deal straight out for him.
Scott paused for a moment; he hadn’t expected the deal to be this much in his favor. Making a note to himself to thank the Captain for this at a later time, he smiled at the clone. “I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t warn you that life with a military man might break her little heart. Could go on a mission and never return.”
Cloudhopper’s optics brightened a little, he had considered the idea that a male human mate might not be a permanent member of his family and that would suit him just fine. “I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t warn you that that probably wouldn’t bother me a whole lot.”
“Boy, you are as straightforward as they come. Anyone ever tell you that?” Scott joked. He was actually getting to REALLY like this seeker. He seemed much more on the ball than his Rumble clone – but not as manipulative as Magnum, his Megatron clone.
The seeker shrugged, Daniel was right about this man – he’d be a good fit for them. “But the offspring I raise as my own,” he informed him. “If they are males, then I hope they will mature as you are.”
Scott chuckled and patted the clone on his intake. “You know what, never thought I’d here a guy sitting here telling me that he actually wants me to get his woman pregnant – and doesn’t want child support to go with it.”
“You can give her what I cannot. And I can guarantee your offspring’s safety,” Cloudhopper replied.
“Well, what if I fall head-over-heals in love with her and never leave,” Scott asked. “You’ll be stuck not only with me, but with Magnum and Dunce too.”
Cloudhopper hadn’t considered the other two clones, nor that scenario either. He frowned for a moment. “I will learn to live with them – IF – Andrea actually falls for you and doesn’t just use you for some good times and sperm.”
“Wow,” Scott laid back and looked up at the faded stars blinking through the holes in the roof far above them. “The dating scene had definitely changed since my last R&R.”
The clone didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d never really understood the whole human dating scene to begin with. The man’s leg was still across his thighs, unable to resist – he moved a hand along it, enjoying the strangeness of a man’s powerful thigh as compared to his soft Andrea.
Scott looked over at him. “Guess it could be worse. You and I could be kicking each other’s ass over her – instead of negotiating terms.”
“True, I had considered that option the first time I noticed you undressing her with your optics,” Cloudhopper agreed. He gave the man a mischievous smirk as he spoke. But behind the smirk his optics belied the fact that he wasn’t actually joking about his consideration of kicking the soldier’s ass.
Chuckling, Scott grabbed the wandering hand on his thigh. “Funny that you and I seem to have more in common than my own clones and I have.”
Cloudhopper shrugged, couldn’t be helped. He’d been chosen by Andrea so long ago – just as Scott had chosen those other two clones.
“One other thing I bet we have in common – is that you have full pleasure programming, don’t you?” Scott moved the clone’s hand to his crotch, making it obvious what he meant.
Now this part of the human pysch Cloudhopper understood. With a grin he slipped his hand under Scott’s shorts. He’d never been with a man – but he had the programming to tell him what to do. “Yes – and I hear you’re fond of fucking clones,” he quipped.
“Haven’t a clue who’s spreading that rumor,” Scott’s hand moved along the purple-and-black frame “But we’ll have to make sure to slag Dunce before he hears any new rumors.”
His digits curled around the hardening shaft of flesh. “And there’s no way that Andrea should know that I’m enjoying this.”
“Yeah, we’ll just say I’m ordering you,” the soldier’s fingers slipped between the clone’s legs, looking for the panels that covered his ports.
“Ordering me against my will, Sir,” the mischievous grin was back on his handsome gray faceplate. He commanded his panels to slide aside, allowing the man access. Flicking his fingertips lightly over the engorging head, he nipped at Scott’s shoulder as the man trembled.
“Mmmmm, damn… You’re already better than Dunce,” Scott sighed. “You’ll have to give him a copy of your programming.” He slid his finger into the clone’s forward port, surprised that it was already slick with readiness. “Thought you said you’d only been with women?”
“Ahhhhhh… Programming tells my systems… how to… mmmmmmm…. Respond…” Cloudhopper bent his knee joints and spread his legs a bit more for the man. “I’ll make a copy for Dunce…mmmmmm… if you prove you’re the best there ever was.”
“Ahhh, a challenge? It turns me on when a grunt soldier like you – challenges and officer like me.” Wiggling his finger, he slowly thrust another one in. Yeah the clone’s port was slick as all get out – but it was tight like a new one. This was going to be real sweet….
“mmmmmmmmm… ahhhhhhh…” the clone stroked him even as he trembled with need.
Ok, he was going to be a little too loud. Thinking fast, Scott stuffed a sock into the clone’s mouth. He didn’t want to hear the bitching from the rest of the men about keeping them up all night. “Let’s play a little game,” he whispered in the Seeker’s audio. “I’ve just captured your ass, and I’m going to rape you.”
Oh, this was good… Cloudhopper’s wings trembled in anticipation as he silently nodded. He wrapped his own wrist servos with the belt that Scott slid to him. His hands now behind his back armor, the man forced him onto his stomach. Moaning against the sock locked between his dentals, Cloudhopper arched his aft up as Scott roughly forced him to spread his legs. He felt the tip of the hardened shaft press against the entrance of his forward port. Pushing inside so slowly that he fought the urge to scream in need.
Gasping air through his intakes, the Seeker shivered as he was finally filled. A stray thought flitted through his meta… The thought that he now understood why Andrea liked it this way so much… Ahhhhh.. the pleasure of being a clone able to experience the full realm of interfacing .. Not restrained to the act of either male or female…. “Mmmmmmm…” He pressed his faceplate against the mat underneath them. Resisting the urge to scream his pleasure as Scott pulled out and forcefully rammed back inside him.
“You’re nothing but a bitch bot! A dirty bitch bot!” Scott whispered into his audio. Biting his neck hard, he grabbed the clone’s wings and slammed his cock up to the hilt inside the tight port.
Cloudhopper bucked underneath him, pleasure and pain signals blending as his virgin port was forced to take the full onslaught before being completely ready. But the rough sex seemed right… Seemed perfect considering the situation.. So he didn’t stop the man. He fell into the fantasy of being a prisoner raped by the gorgeous captor. “Ughf! Ughf! Ughf!” his muffled cries with each pounding thrust were barely audible to anyone but Scott.
Scott worked him until he heard the tell-tail sound of rpms skyrocketing. Stopping completely, he pulled out, not allowing the clone to overload just yet. “No, you little whore bot. You ain’t getting’ done that fast.”
His optics threatened to roll up into his head. His port ached with overuse… ached with need unfulfilled… He pushed back with his pelvis, trying to force the man to impale him again. Instead, Scott pushed him down so that he lay flat and forced something hard and cold into his aching need. Pushing it in … so far in..
“Mmmmm, you’re so horny you like my flashlight you little bitch bot.. That’s so nasty…” Scott whispered in his audio. Cloudhopper gasp as the man pressed it further inside him. The cold steel shocked his sensors.. Delicious sensations washed over him.
Suddenly, pain thrust into his aft port. Cloudhopper yelped into his sock. The sensations rocking him to his core as Scott made use of both of his ports at once. His ports burned as they stretched to accommodate. Unused sensors jumping to life… Spreading light throughout his quivering frame until he approached the abyss yet again… Only this time Scott allowed him to continue his crash over its side….
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Some time later that night….
Cloudhopper slower rebooted, his systems still dancing with beautiful sensations.. His mouth was free of the sock, his hands untied and comfortably crossed in front of him. He lay on his side, the soldier curled against his back, a strong arm thrown over his most recent conquest.
“You know Cloudhopper, since you have the pleasure programming – I want you to be the captor next time… You know, a beautiful horny chick that just caught a man in her web and is going to have her way with me..” Scott mumbled against his back.
After the meta-blowing ride that he’d just had at the hands of this man, the Seeker was more than willing to learn some new things. “Yeah, guess we could try that fantasy out. I’ve done something similar before – just not with me acting the femme.”
The man chuckled, “You’ve got to be kidding me! Andrea’s into Dom?!?”
“Didn’t know what it was called, but yeah, she’d like what you just did to me. Well, probably not the ass-fucking, but the captive thing and all.” Cloudhopper found his faceplate getting a bit warm. He was sharing some of his most intimate moments with this man.
“Man, have I died and gone to heaven – or what?” Scott murmured before beginning to snore.
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…. In the Metropolis….
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Doc’s entire frame quivered as he fought against the very core programs that made him a FirstAid model. His hesitant digits reached for Glock. It was amazing that he had no problems touching this clone on a repair table when he was in robot mode – but the second he was in alt weapons mode Doc’s core programs tried to overrun him with nausea at the thought of so much as touching him.
“Hmph, the slagger is incapable of even holding an instrument of war! How can we count on him to fight?!” Glock leered in Opie’s hands.
Opie locked optics with the medic. “Fight your programming Doc. Overcome it for your mate. He NEEDS you,” he urged in a soft and understanding tone.
The white clone swallowed hard, his mouth going dry as he desperately fought against the very heart of his being. “Its… Its so hard Opie… I feel like I’m going to spew,” he stammered. But he didn’t pull back his hand as his trembling fingers stopped mere millimeters from the smooth cold surface of the weapons clone.
“Take your time Doc. I know you can do it.” Opie wished he could help the medic more, but this was a fight that Doc must do on his own.
“Time? We are wasting valuable time with this. Time that we cannot afford to squander,” Colt muttered. He’d never heard of a clone so against violence that he couldn’t bear to even touch a weapons clone in alt mode. This was insane! Why would the Autobots bother to build such a useless model? He could never be counted on to protect a human owner.
“We CAN wait. The Rangers will wait for our signal. No matter how many days or weeks it takes.” Opie glanced at the Megatron clone, their optics briefing meeting. “I know you don’t understand Colt. This is just something that has to be done. If we leave him here – he may very well end up a helpless slave again. Then we’ll have to find him and rescue his tailpipes again,” he paused for a moment, “now wouldn’t THAT be more of a waste of our precious time?”
“Don’t bother trying to understand these soft-sparked Autobot clones,” the Galvatron clone snickered from Opie’s hands, “they defy logic.”
“Maybe, but you’re the one who figured out how to cause a change in our programming. So who’s really the soft-sparked one?” Opie chided. He smiled at Doc as the medic managed to finally touch the weapons clone without puking up some oil.
“Calculated risk necessary to achieve personal advancement,” Glock snorted in a contemptuous tone. No one would ever mistake HIM of being a soft-sparked clone. No, he was a Galvatron model – solely driven towards success and advancement. He just simply did what was necessary to achieve his goals.
“Yeah, right.” Opie couldn’t help but to smile. He knew beneath that tough, uncaring, cold exterior – Glock did have a sense of loyalty, did care about his clone mate and Opie, was concerned for the survival of their group of humans. No matter what crap the weapons clone spouted off as his ‘official reasons’ for his actions.
Colt moved to the door. It was obvious that the Optimus clone was going to wait for as long as it took the medic to break through his useless pacifist programming. He and Glock were just stuck waiting with him. Turning on his long range sensors, he began to make a sweep of the building around them, above and below them. Finding the locations of clone movement…. Keeping his meta aware of any and all possible threats and targets…

An audible hiss came from Doc’s engine as he fully placed his hand on Glock’s armor. The Decepticon clone pulsed with warmth and unreleased energy beneath his fingertips, causing another wash of total revulsion to race through the FirstAid clone’s circuits. Every wire in him screamed for him to pull his hand away… To deny contact with an object of such destruction! He fought those sensations down, refusing to pull his hand free… Forcing himself to change his very being…
“Yes Doc – keep fighting! I know you can do this,” Opie whispered in encouragement. Locking his joints in this position, he prepared to wait for hours if that’s what it took.
Chewing on his lower lip, Doc reached out with his other hand. This was just Glock he was touching.. A clone he’d repaired so many times before. Just Glock … Just Glock… He sucked in his breath as he felt the warm metal alloy against his other hand. Cringing, he dared to lift the weapon from the Prime’s hands.
“There you go Doc! I knew you could do it!” Opie grinned like a kid that had just walked into a candy store.
“Don’t you dare drop me you freagin’ medic,” Glock snarled in warning.
“I…. I won’t drop you.. I promise,” Doc murmured as he stroked the weapon in awe. He’d never been able to touch one of them in alt mode. Never…. And now he had one pressed against his hood. It felt… It felt like freedom washing over him in a brilliant cascade of lightness! He was in charge of his life now – not some programs molded into him by his manufacturer. His peds felt strangely light. Like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulder plates.
For several minutes they allowed the First Aid clone to just stand there and stroke the weapons clone, ignoring Glock’s grumbling about being treated like some organic kitten. Doc felt himself changing as his programs fluxed with the new commands, swirling about his processor like so many gnats. Could he actually fight? Did he have a choice? But he had no programs to direct his actions in a fight! What was he going to do. Opie’s low whisper brought him out of his confused trance. “I can give you a copy of the programs you need.”
Looking up from the weapon clone in his hands, the medic met Opie’s glowing sapphires. His former ‘student’ was now offering to be his teacher. Confidence oozed from the Prime clone’s chassis. A confidence that Doc had never thought he’d ever see in this clone. A confidence that reminded him so much of the hybrid clone he’d give his life up to save. With mineral oil tears threatening to flow from his optics, the white clone nodded.
Opie gently took Glock from the medic’s hands and tossed him up in the air so he could transform to bot mode. With the two Decepticon clones looking on and guarding the door, the Autobot clones connected their processors with a thin data cable. Doc shuddered as he began to download the zipped files. Steadying red arms circled him as he opened the files and began to install them – overwriting all the pacifist programs that had made him a First Aid clone.
The powerful Prime clone held on to the medic as he went limp in the shutdown-and-reboot cycle. Though he was sad that the First Aid clone had to change so much in his core programs – he accepted that as the price that must be paid to rescue Charge and the other slaves from this horror. Hearing an impatient sigh, he turned his head and met Glock’s narrowed optics. “Have some patience Glock – takes time to change programs that you claimed could not be changed.”
The Galvatron clone snarled under his breath. He did not see any advantage to having a second Autobot clone ‘slave’ tagging along on this mission; Might make them too noticeable.
“I understand your plan Prime. We use his knowledge of this city’s layout to hasten us to our ultimate goal,” Colt paused to shoot the Galvatron clone an arrogant smirk – as if to indicate that very understanding made him the Megatron clone superior to the Galvatron clone, “ingenious in its complexity!”
The tension between the two was palpable, both of them tended to call him ‘Prime’ everytime they were actually insulting the other’s lack of intellect or cunning. Sometimes he hated the feeling that he was nothing but a pawn in their powerplays. Thankfully, Doc rebooted then and interrupted tension in the room. His optics glowed as his hydraulics clicked on to support his chassis. He blinked a few times as he stabilized, “Thankyou Opie,” he whispered, his arms going around the thick chassis in a hug of gratitude.
“I know you would’ve done it for me,” Opie replied. He patted his friend and one-time mentor on his back armor. It was strange to go from the one who followed to the one-who-led. For a brief moment he contemplated on if he’d ever truly get used to it.
“You will. Took Prime a while too – but he got used to it,” an echo replied.
Looking up, Opie met the white ghost mech’s black optics. For some reason, knowing that a mech ghost was following them around made him feel better. He smiled at the specter of Ratchet, knowing that it wasn’t wise to tell the others of the spark’s presence. They didn’t like things that they couldn’t see – or understand.
“Wise choice,” Ratchet continued. Flowing over, he stood right in front of the pair of Decepticon clones without their even knowing it. “There’s some other clones you should repair before you go after the Prime hybrid. You’ll find their assistance will be necessary.” His transparent hand slipped through the closed door. “Turn right when you leave this room. Go down the first emergency staircase you come across and go down ten floors. Go left for 100 ft then enter the door marked 1009.” With that, he flickered out of sight once more.
Pulling away from Doc, Opie nodded his approval of the medic. “You haven’t been in room one-thousand-nine by chance?” he asked.
Surprised at the inquiry, Doc was speechless for a moment. That was a room filled with the depths of clone horror. He’d only seen it once as he was dragged by its open door. What he had witnessed had haunted his defrag cycle ever since. “Yeah, why?”
“That’s where we are headed next. Seems that there are some clones there that we need to repair; clones that’ll help us.” Opie studied the medic’s expression, he didn’t understand the horror flickering behind Doc’s blue orbs.
“Yeah, uh, maybe we can repair a couple of them,” Doc said – he swallowed down the lump of fear rising in his throat unit.
“A couple? How many are in there?” Colt asked. He didn’t want this mission side-tracked by one of Opie’s whims.
“And what models are we discussing?” Glock added. He crossed his arms over his chest plate and leaned up against the wall. He didn’t want to be bothered with having to deal with a bunch of weak models.
“Uh, well….” Doc stammered, withering a bit under their harsh judging optics, “I think there’s like several dozen in there.”
“What models!” Glock snarled.
“All Optimus models. Every single one,” the medic replied.
“And what do we need to repair on them?” Opie inquired. He had been trained by the medics to be a repair bot himself, so he was more than willing to assist.
Doc stared at the ground and shifted uncomfortably from ped-to-ped. “Um, maybe we should wait until we get there. It’s kind’ve, well, complicated.”
…….Some time later on the tenth floor…….
“Come on slaves!” Colt snapped, kicking the pair of Autobot clones whom staggered in front of them. Another pair of generals passed them, not even bothering to glance at their fellow Megatron clone with the sniper rifle across his back plates.
Opie glanced and Doc, both of them pleased that their acting skills were so effective. “Y-yes master!” Doc squeaked. Limping forward, he opened door 1009. With a straightening of his shoulder servos, he led them inside.
As the door closed behind the undercover team, an audible gasp of disbelief escaped their vocalizers as they surveyed the scene that lay before them. The expansive room had once been home to large conferences, but now it was lined with five foot cubes stacked floor-to-ceiling. Each cube was a prison cell. Inside each was a wreck of a Prime clone. Some swaying and blindly gibbering to themselves while others sat there comatose – their blank optics seeing nothing… This was an – insane asylum for all the Prime clones so psychologically damaged from abuse that their core programs had fragmented into nothingness.
Glock transformed, leaping off of his rival’s back armor. “They’re fucking fragg’d!” He snarled in disgust, “They are so damaged – it will take longer than we can spare to repair them all! They are useless to us!”
Walking forward, Opie forced one of the cells open and dragged out a comatose clone. Lifting him gently into his arms, he looked down into the blank stare of one of his twin clones. “Maybe not. These ones are almost void of programming now since their hard drives have crashed. We can just wipe the slates clean and do a complete re-install of core programming. Then they help us repair more.”
“Hmmmm, do you concur - medic?” Colt asked as he walked towards the prison cubes on the other wall. The comatose Primes had no reaction to his presence – but the swaying ones cringed back, wailing indecipherable pleas…
Doc stroked the helm of the limp clone in Opie’s arms. “Yes, it should work. I can work on repairing their chassis while Opie’s working on their programming.” He glanced around – afraid yet hopeful that he might see his beloved hybrid in one of the cubes. There was no hybrid to be seen…. Sadness again threatened to overwhelm his circuits.
Colt nodded his understanding of the medic. But he was fascinated by the reaction he was obtaining from the swaying ones. He moved side-to-side, causing them to scuttle as best they could back-and-forth in an attempt to get as far away from him as they could. “What torture must’ve caused this programming glitch,” he mused to himself. Reaching out, he slid his hand between the bars of one. The imprisoned clone screamed as he touched one of his peds, shuddering as if the Megatron clone was burning him alive.
Glock walked over and studied the wrecks with a more critical optic. “I know what torture has caused this insanity,” he paused to nod towards the two medics now working on their first comatose patient. “I have been in a fragged Prime’s meta. I’ve seen the memory files.”
“So, he was in this condition once?” the gray clone inquired. He could not picture Opie being a wreck such as this.
Ripping open the bars, the Galvatron clone nodded as he roughly grabbed the hysterical wreck and dragged him out, duct taping his mouth as he did in order to silence him. “Not as badly fragged, but on the verge of it.” The slave fell to his knees, his linkages so tight from being in cramped quarters so long – that he could no longer stand. Not recognizing the Galvatron model at all, he pressed himself against the powerful purple clone in a vain attempt to hide from the Megatron general. Anything was better than the horrific touch of a Megatron clone!
“Interesting, how was he repaired to his current state?” Colt asked. “If we are able to repair them all. Perhaps we could leave them to wait on our signal. And attack from within.”
“Perhaps,” Glock stroked the broken audio receptors of the wreck clinging to his legs. “I don’t think we have the time to repair them all. They have the easy ones to repair,” he nodded towards the other Unit members, who had already finished with one comatose clone and were dragging out another as the first slowly rebooted.
“But these ones CaN be repaired. They can be made useful,” leaning forward, Colt stroked the other side of the cowering Prime clone’s helm. The slave gave a muted scream of total terror, and tried to scuttle around behind the Galvatron clone’s leg units.
“Yes, I was the one responsible for Opie’s psychological repair.” An arrogant smirk crossed the purple clone’s faceplate. “But I’m no longer the defunct Megatron clone that I used to be – though I still have the file containing the base Autobot programs. You would need to act in my stead – which I highly doubt that you are capable of, being just a police bot.”
Megatron clones did not back down to any challenge! Especially one issued by Galvatron models! Colt narrowed his optics and glared at Glock. “I can accomplish any task that you can – only I’m far more effective!” he snarled.
“Really? Prove it,” Glock challenged.
…..Some hours later…….
“I am ready,” Colt said. Grabbing the terrified clone’s legs, he and Glock forced the slave down onto his thick cable. “You are mine Prime – always!” he purred, ripping off the duct tape over the slave’s lips, he forced him into a passionate kiss, his lips muffling the hysterical clone’s cries. He didn’t move from his seated position, didn’t bother to thrust into the port now hotly around his cable. There was no pleasure derived from this forcible raping of a fragmented clone. He was merely the tool used to throw the clone’s meta into a memory echo. And once in that echo – Glock could break through and load the necessary programs.
So he held his new ‘victim’ in a vise-like grip onto his lap. The Prime clone’s engines roared as he weakly fought.. Panicked and blind to everything around him as his tortured meta spiraled downward into a horrific memory echo of past rapes. His meta playing it out as if it was happening again. The slave didn’t notice the data link being plugged in. Didn’t notice the clone invading his meta…. Downloading core programs…. Going through his very being……
Suddenly, the slave blinked. His chassis relaxing as his vision cleared along with his meta. He felt the presence of an outside processor linked with his. His terror turning to wonder as he turned his optics and met the optics of a strange-model Decepticon clone…..
“I’m through his firewalls,” Glock reported “ninety percent complete on download and installation processes”
Colt let loose of the slave’s lips, but kept his hands tightly locked around the red arms. This was the twelfth wreck they’d worked on. Some had freaked out at first and tried to break away – others had calmed immediately. There was no way to predict which way this one would go. “We are your – allies,” he assured the clone’s awakening meta, “We will not damage you further.”
The wreck looked at Glock, then down at Colt who’s cable was buried deep within him, then over at the row of Prime clones that stretched out next to them – some in peaceful defrag, others just now rebooting and looking around as if they’d just woken up from a bad dream and didn’t know where they were. His optics turned back to Glock. “You’re in my processor….” He whispered in a voice so weak that it was barely audible.
“I’m reloading Autobot core programs and defragging what I can” Glock replied.
“Allies?...... Friends?” the wreck moved his hands so that he was stroking Colt’s chest plate. “How can a …. General… be a friend?”
“When that general has a spark within him,” a strong voice replied from above the wreck.
The wreck looked up, blinking in wonder at the strong clone – identical to what he had once been – looked down at him. Tears of shame filled his optics. He had once been so strong.. Once been so sure… He was nothing now compared to this twin clone of his…
Opie kneeled down next to them, his digits gently caressing the broken audio receptors on the wreck’s helm. “Do not allow yourself to feel shame for what has happened to you. I’ve been where you are. You’ll be strong again like me someday. Don’t worry.” He nodded for Colt to let go of the slave’s arms.
The two barefaced Prime clones stared at each other. Trembling, the wreck reached up and dared to trace the jagged scar that trailed down Opie’s cheek. “You were….one of us… once….” He whispered, “So… strong… now… so strong…”
“Yes,” Opie kissed the wreck’s digits. He had always struggled with the fact that few understood where he had come from in the Unit. Only Scream and the others rescued with him understood. It had kept his psychological recovery slow. Taking him over a year to develop into the clone he was now. If he’d had an understanding leader from the start…… “I – WE “ he nodded to the two Decepticon clones who were finishing up with this patient “will love you. Protect you. We have humans who will adopt you.”
“Love…. Humans…..” The wreck felt the strange purple clone pull out of his processor and disconnect the data link between them. The fog that had been his reality continued to burn off. Hope filled his spark. Wrapping his arms around the other Prime’s neck, he beamed as the strong clone lifted him off of the sparked general. The thick cable sliding free of his port, just as his spark felt free….
“Yes, love.” Opie gathered the weak clone into his arms, nodding for the two Decepticon clones to begin working on another slave. “But we’re going to need all of you Prime clones’ help. We must destroy this place and free the other slaves. I need you to rest, defrag and reboot. We’ll fix your chassis while you do.”
The wreck snuggled against the first warm chassis he’d felt loved by in so long. “I’ll…. Try… to… please..you..” he whispered.
Opie lay him down next to the others they’d repaired. “You’ve already pleased me. You’ve come out of the fog,” he said as he opened panels and began to fill the clone’s depleted hydraulics systems.
The wreck smiled weakly up at him, thrilled that by his repair he had pleased this strong clone. He would follow this twin of his into the very bowels of hell if he had to.
“Do you remember your designation?” Opie asked; continuing to work on mechanical repairs so that when the clone woke up from a full reboot sequence he’d be able to fight.
A slight engine whine came from within the damaged chassis. The blue orbs flickered with a haunting expression as the clone dove into his deepest memory files. Memories of his life before the eruption… before his capture by the clone nation… “My owner ….called me ..Pax – because I ….worked in…. her packaging ….shop.”
“Well, Pax,” Opie gave him a gentle pat, “time to defrag. Go through four reboot cycles.”
Pax gave him a timid smile. “Yes, sir…” He reached out to grab the strong clone’s hand before he could leave to help another one of them. “Um…. Can I…?”
“Yes you can. From now on – you can,” Opie replied – he knew exactly what the scarred Pax was desperately trying to ask.
Pax sighed happily as he commanded his face mask to close. With a slight whir of hydraulics it slid from either side of his helm, coming together with a solid click. He felt a sense of security flow through his systems now. And with a hushed ‘thankyou..” to Opie – his optics went dark in defrag.
Opie stood up, surveying their progress. He and Doc had finished with all of the comatose clones. Glock had been right in assuming they would be the easiest to repair. Most of them had completed the four reboot cycles, and now two dozen of them sat quietly together. None of them having any memory files left. They were confused, waiting for humans to come and claim them.
He glanced at the row of clones laying side-by-side in reboot cycles. Gock and Colt had repaired another dozen of them. While their core programs and chassis would be whole again, the memories they still had would make them uncertain, timid, even clingy. But he understood them. He knew how to lead them. Glancing up at the prison cubes, he counted 6 more that were swaying and mumbling.
Yes, when they were finished they would have over forty strong clones to call onto for backup. Forty strong clones to battle the hundred or so generals. But these forty were Primes, and with the right plan, the right leadership – the Primes would have no problem in defeating the generals. In another hour or so, Glock and Colt would be finished. Then the true planning would begin…
He strolled over to the cluster of blank-memory Prime clones. “Hey guys, how are you all doing?” he inquired.
They looked up at him as one, their optics shining brightly above their masked face plates. “When will our owners arrive?” one asked.
“Well, that’s kind’ve a long story,” Opie said as he sat down in the middle of them. “You see, we kind’ve got stolen as a shipment and the owner files were lost.” Well, it was kind’ve correct.
“So when will we be taken back to the factory so that the files may be recovered?” another asked.
“Factory was destroyed – but –“ Opie held up a digit before they could erupt in disbelief “our chief programmer, Sharon Trakersly, sent us to fetch you all and bring you back to her.”
They looked at each other, none even having company personnel files left intact in their memory banks. But this information was coming from a brother Prime model, so it must be accurate.
“But there’s a catch. The ones who stole us are clones infected with a rather nasty computer virus. They’ve made slaves out of clones who aren’t infected. So Sharon has ordered us to find a way to destroy the infected clones and bring back all the other slaves with us.” He paused for a moment, allowing them to digest the information. “The two Decepticon clones with me, Glock and Colt, are working with us. So just sit tight and we’ll come up with a tactical outline for action soon.”
The group glanced over at the pair of Decepticon clones. Comment such as: “Why are they doing that with one of us?” “What’s fragged that clone so much” “Clones aren’t supposed to engage with each other like that” could be heard.
Opie gave them a sad smile. They’d lost so much. Was it worse for a clone to remember the abuse – or to have a blank past? Noticing that Pax and some of the others had finished his reboot sequences, he motioned for the timid clones to come over and join them.
“Guys, I want to introduce you to Pax,” he said. Motioning for the clone to come and sit next to him, he patted his shoulders for comfort. “Pax, I want you to tell them about what has happened to them since they were stolen and brought here. They remember nothing.”
The group fell into a disbelieving silence as the clone spoke in haunting words and told the tale of torture and horror….. Opie patiently at his side, giving him the emotional support he needed……
……
Note: Next time I’ll get into what’s going on back at the Units camp… I promise..
And yes – reviews are like crack to a writer. Makes us start getting that muse back!
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Rise of the Living Matrix (Market Commodity IV)