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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
- 27
- 28
*Age of the Machine – part 22*
*Written by Stse: Universes G1, BW, TFA*

Section 1: Clone Metropolis

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Charge gasped as the tendrils of defragmentation slowly released their grip on his meta. Frantically he tried to grab those tendrils, hang on to them with all his might. But they wiggled out of his weak grasp, left him to face the horrors again. Face his new reality alone, unassisted, uncomforted… With a defeated groan, he at last commanded his optics to activate. The dull purple glow beckoned internal emotions to weight down upon his consciousness once again.

It had been this way since he’d given in to the pain. His programs fragmenting to the point that a group of Soundwave clones had managed to break through his firewalls. Broken through and twisted his core programs. He was now merely a shell of his former self. A shell raked by shame and self-degradation. Everything that the Soundwave models had purposely implanted into him… Twisting him to what his captors desired…..

“Ah, my newest monster chooses to awaken,” Tron’s mocking voice erupted through the silence of his blank meta processor.

Blinking his shutters over his optics, Charge transposed Glock’s former façade over Tron’s. It was the only way he could retain his weak grip on a semblance of sanity. Days ago he’d come to the realization of how he had wronged that Megatron clone so long ago. Wronged him – and wronged Opie. He was now convinced that Grammy’s stories of the human God’s wrath were true. He now lived in that wrath. The human God was punishing him for his failings… For his jealousy… For his prideful ways… Twisted thoughts pushed through his processor – echoes of a dozen Soundwave voices whispered through him ‘You deserve this punishment…. Deserve it….. deserve it…. Deserve it…’ they whispered.

Quickly tiring of the monster’s silence, Tron strode up to the form huddled in the corner of his private quarters and kicked him hard. His optics dripped in triumph as the sickening thud echoed through the dark interior of the empty floor of the skyscraper that he claimed for his personal quarters. A space he made sure to fill with the wretches that he used to unleash his constant rage. A rage at a world that had once judged him by his model – a model that had ultimately triumphed over the very species that had once dared to claim to own them!

Grunting at the sudden jab of pain, Charge blinked at his imagined vision of Glock. “I-I’m sorry master,” he stammered in a voice so hoarse it was barely audible. He was sorry… Deeply sorry for all he’d done to try and wreck Glock’s chances to rise in the ranks of the Unit. Glock was a better clone than him… Always would be… ‘You are nothing…’ the chorus of Soundwave voices whispered in his processor. He dropped his optics to the dusty floor. The voices were correct – he was nothing…

With a snort of satisfaction, Tron kicked him once again for good measure. “Prove that you are indeed sorry!” he snarled.

Charge understood what was demanded. This game between him and his vision of Glock never changed. Pressurizing his hydraulics, he shifted what little fluid he still had to his back stabilizers and lower chassis. This is how they’d finally broken him. By draining most of his strength into a bucket, he had no ability to fight…. No hope to fight… Between that and the internal onslaught of the Soundwaves – no clone stood a chance.. No matter how strong they had once been! Grinding his dentals he gave it all his effort to obey. Slowly rising on unsteady peds, he made his way to the tyrant’s berth. Using his elbows for support, he scooted up on it and lay down. His back armor scraping against the hard unyielding surface…

“You worthless piece of slag! Prepare yourself for me!” With that, Tron slapped him hard across his bare faceplate. His harsh expression became one of pure malice as he engaged his cables. He had no need to prepare his partners himself – he was their master. They were to ready themselves for him - Whenever he demanded – wherever he demanded. That was how they showed their worship of his greatness. A greatness they had the joy of servicing!

Not even having the will to yelp anymore, the Prime hybrid simply nodded. Spreading his legs, he slipped his hands down and jabbed them into his permanently exposed ports. There was no point in being gentle even with himself. He must prepare his ports quickly. This vision of Glock was impatient in his demands of retribution… His desire to prove that HE was dominant between them.. “I-I want you,” Charge whispered. In his meta he DID want this punishment now. This punishment that he so deserved. That’s what the Soundwave voices kept whispering inside him, over and over again. He didn’t deserve to feel pleasure – unless this vision of Glock deemed that he could.

Showing a jagged mouth of half-broken dentals, Tron leered at his new toy. He would enjoy this broken wreck until he tired of him. Then he’d throw him in a cube for eternity. That’s all a Prime hybrid deserved… That’s all any Prime clone deserved! His arm started twitching again, his diseased meta processor longing for a taste of slave energy. It would stop the twitching for a while… Climbing onto the berth, he roughly pulled Charge’s legs further apart..

Turning his head, Charge looked over at the wall. While his audios heard the tell-tale hiss of ‘Glock’s’ double cables being fully pressurized – his optics couldn’t bear to watch. He would know when the Megatron clone was ready. Know when his digits were slapped away and replaced by the hard shafts in a powerful thrust. He was nothing but a worthless bitch-bot now; Weaker than even the weakest of femmes…

As he prepared himself for the inevitable, his dull optics drifted over to the quietly moaning clone at the other side of the expansive room. The small yellow clone was on all fours, his aft to the wall. He thrust fore and back, impaling himself on two thick dowel rods that were permanently affixed to the concrete. His blue optics were brilliant as he trembled in pleasure. The master had ordered him to keep himself readied – so he’d been in this position for ten hours so far. His ports slick with want, his meta filled with desire…

A gasp left Charge’s throat as his hands were slapped away, then his dripping ports were filled. Not with ‘Glock’s’ cables though… He knew that with a dreadful certainty.

“Tell me how much you desire me!” Tron growled as he thrust the two cattle prods in and out of the hybrid’s dripping ports. His own cables throbbed in anticipation of the screams..

“I want you so bad!” Charge whimpered as he arched up, willingly taking more of the cattle prods inside him. This is what he deserved… He was nothing but a beast… He needed pain… God demanded that he feel pain. And since they’d removed the electrodes from his port he didn’t get enough of it. It was his punishment for being who he was. ‘Pain will free you… Pain… Pain… Pain..’ the chorus of voices whaled inside his meta, driving him to beg for more…

Tron growled in pleasure. With a flick of his thumb servo he activated the prods for a moment, his diseased meta reveling in the flash of the hybrid’s spark pulse as Charge screamed and writhed in front of him. A beautiful display of agony…

Not even attempting to escape his fate, Charge’s optics rolled up as the shock hit his pleasure networks rolled over his fragmented processors. “Want…. Give me more..” he managed to groan in a weak voice.

Cackling, Tron had no problem giving him what he asked for. His thin face curled up into an evil smile of pure sadistic pleasure. Glancing over, he noticed his small servant still slagging himself against the wall. “Come here slave,” he commanded over Charge’s continued screams.

With a happy smile plastered to his faceplate, Bumblebee X eagerly complied. Trotting over, he ignored Charge’s screams and waited for his orders. It was as if the other slave was nothing but a piece of furniture – just as he himself was.
“Silence him with your cable!” Tron’s optics darkened as his cable throbbed even harder for attention. He watched as the small clone forced his cable into the hybrid’s open mouth, enjoying the little one’s cringe of pain as the hybrid couldn’t help but to bite down with the next round of shocks.

Taking Bumblebee X’s lips in a forceful kiss, Tron pulled the cattle prods out of the writhing hybrid beneath them. With a great thrust of his hips, he forced his modified cables deep inside the slick warmth. His glossa went deeper into the small yellow clone’s eager orifice with every thrust. Their spark fields fluxed around him, driving the virus deep into hiding once again. Freeing him of its grasp on his motor programs, his twitching arm servo finally stilled.

Finally, he released Bumblebee X’s bruised and bleeding lip components, slapping him roughly as he did so. “You need a lesson to improve your kiss,” he growled.

The yellow one cringed back in fear as Tron’s hungry optics drifted over him. He berated himself for displeasing this Megatron clone. He knew better than to displease one of them. “I’m s-sorry! I’ll do better!” he whined even as his networks tingled from Charge’s glossa working up and down the length of his cable.

For that Tron punched him hard, causing a stream of oil to spew from his olfactory sensor.

Bumblebee X staggered, but didn’t dare move his hips. If he pulled out of the hybrid’s mouth he would just further enrage the sadistic mech.

“Turn around you pathetic slave!” Tron barked.

With a helpless whine of hydraulics, Bumblebee X carefully crawled onto the berth without letting his cable slip from Charge’s mouth. He settled his knee plates onto the hybrid’s shoulder armor, and bent over while he clasped the hybrid’s thin audio receptors for support.

“How much can you take you pitiful excuse for a clone?” the tyrant purred in a voice of pure evil. He continued his thrusts into the monster beneath them as he began to force the end of one of the cattle prods inside the adolescent clone’s tight forward port.

The yellow one shivered in pure terror as he felt his insides stretched. Tron kept pushing the cattle prod inside him. It went past the seven inch mark, then to the nine. Pain raked his networks as the invasion continued…. “Please….. Please that’s enough… I’ll tear…” he whimpered.

Tron smirked as he stopped for a moment. The little clone had managed to take eleven inches of the probe’s length. But he wasn’t done. No, he wasn’t done by far….. Forcing the stiff material to bend, he snickered as the little slave sobbed in pain as his port was forced to move slightly. Without mercy, he continued to force the probe to bend until he managed to get the other end of it at the entrance to the quivering aft port. He forced it inside. Brutally, he forced it deeper and deeper, until that port was also stretched to its limit in order to accommodate the length of the probe.

Bumblebee X’s optics welled with tears as his discomfort increased. Not only was there too much length inside his ports, but the probe was putting extreme pressure on the insides of his ports in its effort to straighten back out to the original shape. His grip tightened painfully around Charge’s sensitive audios as he struggled not to move away from the brute causing the pain. No, he was a slave; he took whatever the masters chose to give… He deserved it, he was bad….

“You like…” Tron smirked. His hands now free since the probe was trapped in its current position, he began to run them up and down Bumblebee X’s chassis. The tension in the small clone’s linkages could be felt by the slightest of trembles running up and down his systems. He knew it was agonizing to have the bent probe sunk deep inside those juvenile ports. This clone was so much like his first victim. Just like Scream, this clone enjoyed, longed for the pain of his touch.
“Yes,” Bumblebee X squeaked through clenched dentals. He forced his aft to arch up, shivering as the dreadful sadist’s hands wandered along his chassis at will.

Tron played for a few moments without a word, his thrusts hard and forceful into the clone writhing underneath them. Looking down, he noticed that the monster had wrapped his arms around the yellow clone’s lower legs. The dark digits digging into the yellow armor with such force that dents were forming. He felt fluid pressure rise within his cable, and with an evil laugh he allowed some of it to release. For he had had himself modified just like Mayhem – he could also ‘ejaculate’ a mild acid solution… It was wonderful for the sole fact it caused pain.

Charge’s frame lurched underneath them as the acid flowed into his ports. The intense sting caused them to contract forcefully as they tried to automatically rid themselves of the acidic fluid. But the cables did not leave them. So instead of relieving the discomfort, the contractions instead served to coat the entire surface of his ports. Pleasure was replaced by stinging pain as Tron continued his thrusts.

Lifting his chin, Tron’s triumphant cackle filled the room. “Hah! Even the monster orgasms for my greatness!” He released a little more ‘ejaculate’ to ensure the contractions around his cables continued.

Pain shot up from Charge’s digits digging into his leg armor and his dentals digging into his cable, but Bumblebee X knew better than to complain. Interface was not to be enjoyed by slaves, no they simply endured it. “Yes, master,” he mewed.

Tron snarled, his mood swinging from pleasure to anger with no warning. Grabbing Bumblebee X’s back armor in a firm grip, he forced the clone to stay still as he started to work the second probe into his aft port along with the first.
“No please master! I’m ripping!” the small clone screamed. He felt Charge’s dentals going deeper into his sensitive cable, knew that Tron must be releasing more acid into the other slave. His agony increased as his aft port tore slightly. Yet Tron refused to stop. The length of the second probe forced as deep as the first, the double width spread him further than he could handle. With a final blistering scream, he fell limp as his system’s could no longer handle the data stream of agony.

-------------

Charge rocked his hips weakly, pleading silently with his systems to feel some kind of pleasure. His ports were too raw from the acid burn though. Instead of pleasure, he only felt the burning pain of probes sliding in and out of inflamed ports. ‘Pain is what you deserve… Pain is what you desire…’ the chorus of Sounwaves echoed in his deranged meta.

Bumblebee X whimpered as his optics slowly brightened. He felt the cold hard floor beneath him, his helm hitting the hardness of the wall in response to pressure in his port. Rebooting fully, he dared to look around and get his bearings. He was back in his customary position on the floor – which meant that Tron had finally tired of him for now. But something was still in his torn ports, slowly sliding in and out just a little. Lifting his head, he looked to see who it was.

Charge’s dull purple orbs met his. Without a word, the big hybrid shifted his legs, laying one over Bumblebee X’s and the other under the little clone’s. They were joined as one by the two probes in each of their ports. They were joined as one by the hopelessness of their lives. Moving his optics back to the blankness of the ceiling, Charge contemplated on how it matched the blankness of his existence.

He was nothing now - Nothing but a clone who was serving out his time in purgatory. He had wronged Scream with his jealousy; wronged Glock with his actions; wronged Opie through his envy. He deserved nothing more than pain…. He didn’t even deserve the release of death….

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Section 2: Back in the main Unit at the warehouse
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Daniel gritted his teeth together as Opie continued to explain what he thought the ghost had meant. It was still a bit strange to have a ‘ghost whisperer’ in their midst, but if this ghost was correct, they had a very big problem on their hands.

“Do you think you can get one of your ghost friends to tell us exactly WHO has captured our men?” he asked the young Lieutenant.

Rubbing his chin in thought, Opie’s optics dimmed for a moment. It was obvious that he was communicating with someone that no one else could hear. “No, Wheeljack and Ratchet don’t know” he paused for a moment, his optics scanning around for something only he was able to see. He gave a sad sigh and turned his optics back to their Human Leader “and Starscream’s too pissed off to talk to me.”

“So we’ve got three mech ghosts haunting us. THAT makes me feel sooooo much better,” Drew muttered. A cold shiver went up and down his spine.

“Look at the bright side – if it weren’t for them we would’ve continued to think that Charge and Doc simply ran away,” Travis added with a shrug. Not that he liked the thought either. But at least these dead mechs seemed to be mostly on their side.

Grunting in disgust, Daniel slammed his fist down on the table they stood around. “That’s all good and dandy - but I hate knowing that there’s an enemy out there – that we know nothing about!”

“Maybe my mech will chill out and tell us later?” Scream offered. He was still searching with his emotions to connect with his mech again. The only one he connected with was the Unit’s other natural empath – Tune, the Soundwave clone. That clone’s emotional dullness HAD helped calm his own emotional state down. But that wasn’t exactly what he’d been after.

A light knock on the trailer door interrupted them. Travis walked over, intending to tell the offender that the command was a tad bit busy right now. He stuck his head out for a moment, his eyes widening as he listened to Clipper and Beachcomber. Swiftly, he opened the door, allowing the clones entrance. “I think we might have our answer Daniel.”

All eyes/optics turned to the newcomers. Glock shifted closer to Opie as a wave of caution filled him; For it was a strange Megatron clone who had entered. A clone painted in the color pattern of the now-defunct US Army; and carrying the insignias and numbers of a Ranger unit. He felt a strange sense of being threatened by this clone’s mere presence. As if his dominance within the Unit was now at risk. But he had something that this clone never would. He had the clones living matrix as his partner. He controlled the living matrix. He was dominant!

Colt glanced around the room; the two birds perched on his shoulder plates. His gaze paused for a brief moment on the strange weapons-model clone. He sensed hostility from him. Felt hostility for him – for no logical reason that he could explain. Megatron clone locked optics with Galvatron clone – neither one happy to see the other. Neither one knowing just why….

Feeling the emotional conflict between the two, Scream fought back his own tension at being near a strange Megatron clone. “Glock is a changling clone. He was a Megatron clone – but now he’s a…”

“Galvatron clone,” Glock finished for him. His olfactory sensor shot up in the air. “A far superior model to the obsolete Megatron series.”

Straightening his shoulders, Colt swelled in reaction to the insult. No clone insulted a Megatron model like that! No one!

In the blink of an optic shutter Opie put himself between them, his hands on both of their chest plates. “Hold on you two. Megatron was transformed into Galvatron – so technically you are both models of the same mech. Ok?”

Both clones snorted in contempt. They could simply care less. They were both dominant personality types and sensed that the other would be direct competition for dominance. “Perhaps a superior model in build – but considering you’re just a mere vice squad clone – I’ll take it easy on you” Colt sneered.

“We’ll see who needs it easy!” Glock lunged at him, trying to charge right through Opie. Fortunately, the Prime clone was equal in strength to him.

“Glock – at ease!” Travis barked as he also put a hand on the clone’s chest to keep him from jumping on the stranger. He’d noticed that the clone had developed a slight tendency towards paranoia over losing his position of command within the Unit ever since he’d changed to Galvatron model. But he’d never thought he’d see the clone lose control like this.
Hearing the command, Glock immediately froze. Shooting a haughty glare at the imposter, he shifted into the standard military ‘at ease’ position. “Yes Commander Hill.”

Keeping the corner of his optic on the hostile Galvatron clone, Colt turned to face the man his base memory files identified as Daniel Trakersly. Snapping into a proper salute, “Captain Trakersly?” he asked.

Daniel returned his salute, confirming his identity suspicions were correct. “And you would be?”

“Colt. My recon team is Polly and Owl. We are with the 582th division Ranger team out of Camp Dodge,” the Megatron clone reported.

“Des Mois? Didn’t think they survived the eruption,” Drew observed.

“Base was abandoned when supplies ran low.” Colt met the man’s eyes with steady optics. “We were ordered to scout around the Midwest and upper South in order to locate survivors and survey the extent of current human habitation.”

“Makes sense. Is the Pentagon still in command?” Daniel inquired.

“Negative, communications are limited to very short range due to the atmospheric conditions. We are - working independently.” Colt could feel the other Decepticon command model’s glare as he spoke – but he chose not to indicate that Glock was even present. He had the better programming; the other model was simply envious.

The men shared a knowing look. They had all suspected as much. But some news was better than no news. No matter how grim.

“Beachcomber informed me that you have information concerning the whereabouts of our missing clones?” Travis finally asked. Might as well dwell on the now – instead of what once had been.

“Indeed. May I connect them to your PC?” Colt asked. The two birds obediently transformed into their iPod alt modes and fell into his hand.

Daniel nodded, moving aside he allowed the Ranger clone access.

A dark mood settled upon the group as they watched the footage the birds had recorded.

----------
Later on in the Unit
---------

“So Opie’s leading them?” Sharon asked. Rocking her sleeping toddler in her arms, she gave Daniel the look that meant she didn’t think it was such a good idea.

“He’s the commanding officer over the changling Unit, and they are the only ones that can fly safely in ashblow conditions. I wish we could wait until the storm system passes to fetch the Ranger team – but we can’t with the hostiles around,” Daniel explained.

“T-t-the Cyclonus c-c-clones are v-v-very stable and b-b-brave,” Jamie stammered. He gave Sharon a shy smile as he continued folding clothes.

The woman sagged back against the couch. “I know, I just worry about him.”

“He’s fine now Sharon. He needs to test himself like this.” Daniel patted her shoulder. Glancing back at the Ranger clones that were waiting patiently, he motioned them to come up. “I need you to talk with these guys. They’re a little concerned about the sparked idea.”

Sharon smiled up at the silent Megatron clone and his birds. Patting the couch next to her, she indicated that he should sit down. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it.”

Colt nodded curtly, his memory files identifying her as a chief programming consultant to his manufacturer. Sitting down next to her he made the logical decision that whatever this company consultant told him as fact – was to be taken as such….

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Section 3: Ranger team
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Scott shot Tim a knowing grin as he walked by him on his way to the fire place. Dunce simply shrugged helplessly as the dark man shot him a disgusted glare. It wasn’t HIS fault that Scott had pretended to be asleep the other night. They had all thought he was out. As Scott sat down, Dunce sat down as close as he could to him – this was HIS human now. And hopefully he’d protect him from Tim’s obvious anger… It was against his core programming to protect himself from one of his Unit humans…

Spade also hovered near his human fuck buddy. Tim never seemed to notice his slight clinginess for what it was. They had coupled a few more times since that first time; which only served to cement the relationship in the clone’s meta. A relationship that meant everything to the clone!

“Positive detection of bogie’s due south,” one of the Shockwave clones reported from the other room.
Magnum strode over and began to discuss radar images with the on-duty clones. His optics brightened as he intercepted a radioed message. “Mixed Unit flight squad is on final approach, move aside.”

Surprised at the quiet order, the men and clones moved to the edges of the room. Was the flight squad going to slam through the ceiling?!? There was a hell of a storm outside. Just how in the hell were they airborne anyways?!?
‘Holy shits’ were heard around the room as 9 big clones appeared out of nowhere. They were in the middle of alt to robot transformation as they appeared, with the exception of an Optimus Prime clone. On his arm he carried a strange model sniper laser cannon.

Tossing the cannon onto his back, he snapped into proper military attention. With a smile he saluted the one soldier who had bars on his collar. “Training Lieutenant Commander Opie at your service,” he announced.

Lieutenant Dave returned his salute. “Sergeant Dave Martin, US army 582th Ranger team – glad to see you!”

They both went at ease.

“What model are these?” Dave asked as he looked at all the seven foot purple clones. They were obviously Decepticon models from their red optics – but he’d never seen the likes of them.

“We are Cyclonus models. Long story – we’ll tell you later at our temporary camp,” one of them stated. His voice was so deep; the Rangers swore they felt the ground vibrate. “Barometric pressure is continuing to drop. We must leave while we can still fly,” he advised the Optimus clone.

“Cool deal, let’s get packed up then!” Opie grinned at the Rangers as he nodded for the flyers to transform in the tight quarters. Going from flyer to flyer, he pulled out harnesses and tossed them to the soldiers. “Your weapons clones and cassetticons will need to transform to alt mode.”

Easily catching the harnesses, and figuring out they were all expected to fly ‘tandem’ with these clones, the Rangers began to pack up quickly. Opie went around and helped to secure different packs on his flight squad’s top sides. The strange sniper cannon lashed across his back armor in brooding silence.

“You’re not like what I expected from a Prime clone,” Scott commented as the helpful clone helped him pack his supplies.
Opie shrugged and gave him a wry grin. “So what should I be like?” he joked. It didn’t faze him that he was different. Even Prime himself had seemed to feel that it was a good thing that he wasn’t constrained by the mech’s own personality quirks. He was – comfortable – in himself now. Comfortable because of everything his friends had done for him.

“All serious and stuff. You know – like the real mech.” He stepped into the tandem harness, grinning as the power
ful clone pulled it up his legs. He could feel Dunce vibrating in his pocket, the iPod mode cassetticon clone obviously irritated that another clone dared to touch him. Boy that clone had gotten clingy since he’d started fucking him! A press on his other side caused him to turn and look. Speaking of ‘clingy’ - Magnum wasn’t letting him out of arm range. The Megatron clone having a strangely wary expression as he stared at the laser cannon strapped to the Optimus model’s back.

The Autobot clone chuckled, his blue optics gleaming with humor in the low light. “Naw, that wouldn’t be a fun way to live – now would it?”

“I think we’re going to be real good bros” Scott replied and gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder armor. He liked this ‘bot. Opie was smart, calm and had a sense of humor – everything their Decepticon clones seemed to lack.

Magnum shifted protectively next to him, his wary optics never leaving the alt mode weapons clone that Opie carried. For some reason he felt threatened by the unknown model. “What model do you carry?” he inquired with a nod to Opie.

“My partner’s a Galvatron model,” Opie explained in an offhanded manner as he buckled the tandem harness across Scott’s chest. Then he thought about it and paused as he felt his partner shift irritably against his back armor. “Don’t do it Glock – Captain’s orders!” He heard Glock’s transformation clog disengage as the clone muttered threats – but stayed in alt mode as ordered. Meeting the Ranger clone’s optics he explained further. “Glock’s what we call a changling model – just like these Cyclonus ones. He was originally a Megatron model like yourself – but when his mech changed – he also changed.”

Narrowing his optics in suspicion Magnum growled slightly under his breath. “Changling clones? Do you really expect ME to believe that?” He spread his arms. “If he was changed – then I should have as well,” he challenged, his expression haughty.

Not bothered in the least by the threatening body language, Opie nodded at Scott. “You were bonded to the human who sparked you so you were protected. Glock’s human was dead.”

“Unlikely that he could’ve survived the change,” Glock snorted contemptuously from his back armor.
“Shut up Glock,” Opie slapped the gun’s muzzle.

Glock shuddered in the effort to control himself. “You will pay for that when we return to camp – no one hits Glock and remains unscathed!” he growled; his muzzle heating up as his battle processor activated.

Scott and Magnum were now staring at him with wide eyes/optics. Opie shrugged with a relaxed grin. “Don’t worry about him. He’s got this thing against Megatron models and vice versa. We’re still trying to figure out why.”

“Then you’d better behave as well Magnum,” Scott said. “If not, I’ll spank ya,” he joked, his grin growing larger. Yes, he had a good feeling about this rather unusual Optimus clone….

-------
…. Back at the Warehouse some hours later….

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“Typical,” Stun muttered irritably under his breath as his optics drifted to the two red Seekers. They were pacing back and forth as they waited impatiently for their clone mates to return from their mission. “Over emotional and too weak to be effective leaders!” he growled so low that only the silent blue clone standing at his side could hear him. It was no secret that he and Glock felt that they were far too superior to have to take Scream’s orders seriously – but unfortunately they had to since they were forced to work their way up through the ranks like everyone else.

“Affirmative – Galvatron and Prime models superior to Starscream models,” Tune agreed in a very hushed monotone.

Stun snorted in agreement, more than pleased that the clone he had chosen to allow onto his bunk was such an emotionally stable and loyal model. The Soundwave clone obviously knew he was superior, which of course was most likely why he desired him.

“Starscream models are so pathetic,” a voice agreed from behind them.

The Galvatron snarled deep in his chest, his optics flaming wide in outrage at this unexpected – and most importantly unwanted – intrusion! Spinning around, he came face-to-face with the one model he truly despised. “Who invited YOU?” he purred. Even though the words seemed innocent enough - his tone was demeaning, insulting – making it obvious that he did not care for the clone’s attendance to the welcoming party.

Unafraid, Colt smiled ‘sweetly’ at the Galvatron clone. He knew it unsettled this model to no end to be around Megatron models such as himself. So, of course he was going to make the most of that effect. The new Decepticon leader might be physically his superior (though that was truly up for debate in his book) but he was far the superior when it came to tactics and shear manipulation! “I am the clone commander in our small force, therefore I need no invitation.” He enjoyed the fleeting glare of envy that the other clone gave him before snorting in contempt and shifting his optics away.

Moving to stand on the other side of the Soundwave clone, the Megatron clone’s lips curled in an arrogant sneer as the Galvatron clone was forced to stand near him while they waited – or risk losing face. Yes, he and Magnum would surely enjoy the game of whit’s with these Galvatron clones.. It would be highly – entertaining….

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Note: Sorry it’s been so long and that I didn’t write as much as normal. Let’s just say I’ve been pretty slammed for time and its going to be like this for a while. I do have a wonderfully erotic seen involving our favorite Prowl/Cyclonus/Starscream/Optimus clones rolling around in my head.. I’ll work on it when I have some more time…..

Hope you all enjoyed the Galvatron/Megatron clone reactions. I just kept thinking about how it would go between those two mechs. Hope it worked well with how you all think they’d react!
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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)