Blackout Transformers Prime Novels & Stories

“ARGHHHHHH……” Blackout.

the Prime said. He raised his cane and fired a beam of red energy. Dr. Aris didn't even have time to scream. He was turned into a pile of grey ash instantly. I grabbed the laser scalpel from the table and stood in front of Elle. My heart was pounding, but the revenge in my soul was stronger than the fear. "Where are Bryan and Jane?" I asked. The Prime smiled, and his mouth opened far too wide. Inside, his teeth were made of solid silver.

PHASE TWO COMMENCING Then all power everywhere went dark. Complete blackout. Total silence. In the pitch black chamber, only one sound remained. A heartbeat. Not hers. Not the child’s. Something larger. Something planetary. And then From somewhere above the clouds A second red eye opened.

Leon allowed himself a grim, satisfied nod. Anton stared at the screens, the reversal unfolding in real-time, a miracle wrought from lines of code and flawless teamwork. The immense, suffocating weight of the blackout began to lift. It wasn’t over—the financial damage would be immense, the recovery long—but the bleeding had stopped. The heart was beating again.

Beneath the streets, the massive transformers of Substation 42 groaned, their cooling oil boiling in a fraction of a second before the automated safety breakers three blocks away tripped in a cascading phase fault. ​The tactical spotlights exploded. The night-vision optics on the agents' helmets flared with blinding, white-hot feedback, overloading their digital sensors and rendering them completely useless. ​Absolute, suffocating darkness slammed back into the vault. ​Screams of confusion and pain ripped from the federal team as the agents tumbled over one another in the pitch black, momentarily blinded by the retinal burn of the arc flash. ​"I can't see! My eyes—the NVGs are fried!"

It just wasn't the whole truth. She nodded, apparently satisfied, and returned to reviewing our presentation. I looked out the tinted car window. The closer we got, the harder my heart pounded. Seven years. I'd spent seven years convincing myself I was over Ethan Blackwood. Now, in less than ten minutes, I'd know whether that was true. The sleek glass tower came into view. Blackwood Enterprises. It looked exactly as I remembered. Elegant. Powerful. Untouchable. Just like the man who owned it.

The Brooklyn blackout wasn't the result of a cyber-attack or a system failure; it was just a humid July night and an overworked transformer on the corner of Willoughby. At 8:14 PM, the streetlights flickered and died, and the constant hum of the city slowed into a rare, heavy silence. ​Inside the brownstone, there were no emergency generators to kick in. The high-tech "Sovereign" sensors were long gone. Instead, there was the scratch of a match and the warm, flickering glow of beeswax candles.

Inside the penthouse Daniel whispered, “So the satellites hit from above…” Leo finished the thought. “…and the ocean grid hits from below.” Olivia whispered, “That’s not an EMP.” Leo nodded slowly. “It’s a cage.” Inside the vault Marcus stared at the map. “You’re trapping the planet in a blackout.” Ethan leaned closer to the camera. “Yes.” The timer continued counting down. 16 minutes. Inside the penthouse Daniel looked at Leo. “Tell me you have a plan.” Leo stared at the map.

:D Thank you for the journey, lovelies! #TheBlackShadowPackSigningOff xoxo, Cassandra M

The turbines beneath their feet groaned as the current reversed the energy, flooding the copper wires with a frequency that humanity s generators had never been designed to hold. The sound of the city above began to change. The distant sirens stopped, replaced by the cracks of exploding transformers. One by one the lights of the Null-Sector frontier grid went out plunging the valley into darkness. The violet mist did not rise. It poured down the ventilation shafts and drainage pipes sucked into the iron skeleton of the city like smoke down a chimney. The iron lines became the veins of the Unspoken, grounding the energy into the rock before it could reach the people.