Hotshot Transformers Prime Novels & Stories

The night sky turned orange with fire. I lay there coughing, ears ringing, every inch of my body screaming. Kade was on top of me, still shielding me from the worst of the blast and falling debris. “You okay?” he rasped, his face inches from mine, eyes full of fear and love. I touched his bloody cheek with trembling fingers. “Yeah, you?” Before he could answer, a terrifying shadow rose from the heart of the flames behind us. Unit Prime stepped out of the inferno, one arm completely missing, and half its body was the color of charcoal.

She said. Primus grabbed her neck and hits her on the ground. "You know no shit about us." He roared. "You want my powers... Do it? Kill me and take it but you'll never have peace you know, you'll only multiply your enemies." She shouted. She slowly let go of her as they heard incoming footsteps. "Your motivatl speech isn't gonna save you next time Elsa." Primus said and vanished with full speed. Sharon and the rest of the team emerged from the woods.

Neriah POV I left Heritage Mall with the warrior. He bought a sampler box of fudge. There were six different kinds. I stuck it in my bag. I don’t want to have to share it with Jemisha. By share, I mean she will take it, and Father and Regina will encourage it. Ambrose kept texting me, saying that the livestream for Jemisha is dramatic and over the top. I told him to keep watching because I got her a gift. It will put her in a corner and allow me to start exposing my father and Regina in front of an audience.

Adam laughed at his, his lips returning to my neck as he pulled off his own shirt. "I think the word you're looking for is perfect," he said, his hands sliding up my skirt. "No." I said. "That's not it..." "Sexy?" "No." "Then what?" I thought about it for a moment. "Primal." Adam smiled as he pulled off his belt. "Darling, I can show you primal..."

—the memory of the First World’s destruction—was being targeted by a massive Eraser-Behemoth. "You hated me," the Prime’s voice echoed in her head. "And you were right to. I gave you order when you needed chaos. I gave you a cage when you needed a world. But I also gave you... Resistance. Without me, you would never have become the Feral Six." The Prime-Packet ignited. It wasn't a puck; it was a Sphere of Pure Truth. Elara struck it. She didn't shoot for a goal. She shot the packet directly into the heart of the Architect-Prime.

The backdoor Damian had embedded had been triggered by Prime’s own arrogance. The temporary tyranny was collapsing from within. Prime roared, lunging for Alex. Damian broke the restraints—weakened by the illusion’s failure—and tackled him. The fight was brutal—mirror images clashing in savage symmetry. Alex freed himself, grabbing a fallen guard’s pistol. He fired. The shot caught Prime in the shoulder. The clone staggered. Damian drove his knife into Prime’s chest. The clone gasped, eyes wide with shock. “You… were always better at this than me.”

They were burning the canvas to kill the painting. ​Leo Vane stood in the center of the Iron District, his boots anchored in the emerald vines his mother had summoned. Beside him, Sierra knelt over the fallen Architect-Prime, the grey, hollowed-out version of herself. The Prime’s eyes were open, but they were no longer reflective mirrors; they were windows into a "Server-Room" that was currently on fire.