Cybertron Primus Transformers Novels & Stories

The two projectiles lodge themselves onto each wrist as Ursa drops her shining net over her Uncle’s head. The scent of burning flesh hits the air as Primus screams in agony, the silvery net shining bright blue with the glow of the starfire crystals. A silver collar and two silver cuffs appear where the projectiles pierced Primus’ flesh. A terrible roar shakes itself free from Primus’ throat as his body begins to shrink, the cuffs adjusting in size with him as it zaps him repeatedly with bright blue flashes of contained lightning. I roar along with him, my arms outstretched helplessly as Primus’s wings wrap around his body as a useless shield.

“Monroe buried the primary access behind multiple biometric failsafes—linked to him and you.” Aurora’s gaze flicked between Damien and Prime. “So either you override the system…” “Or he does,” Damien finished grimly. The pod hissed again, the fluid beginning to drain. Prime’s form rose, unbothered by gravity, landing barefoot on the steel platform. Naked, expressionless, and terrifyingly calm. Prime stepped forward, movements fluid but mechanical, like a man who hadn’t yet remembered how to be human. Damien stepped between him and the others.

looked at Leo, its gold eye dimming, replaced by a soft, human hazel. The Soldier-Elian’s armor began to shatter, the gold plates falling away to reveal the boy beneath. The "New Mother" dissolved into a cloud of white petals. But as the silence reclaimed the throne room, the Master Throne didn't just stand empty. It shifted. The floor of the throne room split open, and a figure emerged from the very center of the Sovereign-Prime’s reactor. He wasn't a ghost. He wasn't a simulation. It was Arthur Thorne—the Grand Director. But he wasn't a man. He was a Cyborg-Colossus, his body integrated into the ship's systems, his face a giant, glowing hologram of the man who had divorced Meilin’s world.

I was able to find them in Vicegrip and left him out while the energy grid helps Ying yang get out of the Dark Cloud. "Wait !" I said. "Where’s Primal and Warzone? I don’t see him anywhere!" Then in the middle of the dark cloud, we saw a tornado begin to form within it. It kept spinning rapidly be clockwise until the cloud itself dissipated and we could see Primal and Warzone. Apparently, Prime had summoned the speed of a cheetah to run in the middle of the crowd so he could form a tornado to erase it. As soon as the dust cleared, our attackers were nowhere to be found. All that was left was the wreckage of the facility and one of the two that they were after carrying a hybrid.

His crimson eyes were filled with tears, his bronze skin glowing with the Primal Genesis energy. "Darlene! You're back!" Leo was beside him, holding Hope. The child was glowing with a soft, sunset-orange light, her eyes no longer silver but a peaceful emerald. "The First Luna?" Leo asked, his silver eyes scanning the mountain peak. "She’s gone, Leo," I said, my voice trembling. "But she wasn't just a goddess. She was the part of us that was too afraid to be broken." The bone-white mountain began to hum. The three Primordials appeared—the fire, the ice, and the shadow. They didn't bow, but they didn't attack. They looked at the Chronos-Key in my hand, which was now a simple, wooden key carved

It sat squarely in the center of the irradiated deserts of the North American continent. "And the capital," Kara whispered. "Sector Prime, USA Wastes. This is where the distress beacon was ultimately routed. It is the Global Command Hub. It houses the Prime Administrator—the master AI that controls the localized Admins. If the regional Admins are regional managers, the Prime Admin is the CEO. And we just burned down one of its branch offices." Ren stared at the four pulsing red dots. The sheer scale of the enemy was paralyzing. "They know we're here," Ren said, his tactical mind overriding the exhaustion that threatened to pull him under. "How long until they mobilize a retaliation fleet?"

she whispered. She looked at Sarah. The child was glowing, not with artificial light, but with the sapphire resonance of the room. Sarah’s small hand reached out toward the holographic interface. Elena didn't stop her. She guided Sarah’s hand toward the "Forbidden" override, the one Alistair had built into the system. As the child’s fingers touched the glowing light, a pulse of pure, unadulterated harmony surged through the building. In the sub-level, the security turrets didn't fire. They powered down, their internal circuitry overwhelmed by a frequency they weren't programmed to understand. The Ouroboros Prime’s voice screeched in static and then vanished.

The Transformers lie in the realm of tomorrow; the very distant tomorrow. Still, Mr. Lapuz was greatly amused by Ecto 2.0, the robo-puppy that Terra had gifted Kate. He was blown away by how lifelike it behaved. Its prick ears gently pulling back, its tail wagging, its four jointed legs much more flexible than his own arthritic two. Ecto 2.0 also had these expressive, big blue anime eyes made of OLED. The same eyes were equipped with depth cameras that allowed it to gauge any terrain and relay the most apt maneuver to its small but powerful legs. Lastly, Ecto 2.0 was equipped with AI and could remember the layout of Kate’s room and the whole house plus the faces of the people constantly arou

Scarlett said, nodding toward the training grounds where the cyber-Lycan warriors were already boarding the transport bays. As the Ark began its massive, sub-space jump toward the North Pole, Scarlett felt a chill that had nothing to do with the arctic air. In the depths of the Stellar Navigator, a new file had just decrypted. "Project Chimera: Final Objective—The Resurrection of the Prime Architect." Scarlett’s heart hammered. Xuan was gone, and the High Scientist was a prisoner. But if there was a "Prime Architect" still waiting in the Silent Gears, then the experiment was far from over.

Rhea saw one labeled Moon-Pool: Biological Heritage and felt a surge of protective rage that she immediately suppressed. ​"Calculated movement," she reminded herself, her daggers held in a neutral grip. ​They were met in the central atrium by a squad of "Sentinel-Primes." These weren't the spindly janitors from the perimeter. These were heavy, quadrupedal machines armored in the same black glass as the tower, their movements fluid and predatory.