Romans & histoires Sentinel Prime Optimus Prime

The provisional council chamber beneath the rebuilt Apex tower had transformed into a theater of controlled terror. The long table, once a symbol of fragile democracy, now served as Prime’s stage for interrogation. Clone-Prime sat at its head, wearing Damian’s face with the cold precision of a mask carved from ice. His black suit was impeccable, open collar revealing the faint scar that mirrored the original, but the eyes held none of the fire that had defined Damian through every hell they had survived. They were empty. Calculating. Hungry for the destruction he had planned all along.

"I think I'll go find him. Enjoy yourself tonight." I smiled at Nwabueze as Adam and I walked away. "Who was that?" I asked. "Nwabueze Oghojafor," Adam replied. "He's the Beta Superior over the African packs, based in Nigeria. His father, Orabueze, is the Alpha." I nodded. "He seemed nice." "He is," Adam said, waving at someone. "He and his father are very close allies of ours." "I thought Europe was your closest ally?" I asked, lowering my voice.

—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.

“That’s not a nice thing to say, son. You’re lucky she’s just a baby and doesn’t understand what you’re saying yet. If Ophelia was a little older, your words would hurt her deeply.” Alister glances over his shoulder at the back seat and sighs. “The name is Optimus Prime, not Ophelia, dad. Also, I heard what the maids said. Mommy isn’t my real mommy and Optimus' dad is uncle Lenox. So, she is not my sister.” Cold shivers run down my spine as I listen to my son lay it out on me. First, an unknown sense of dread fills me, but soon, it turns into hot, seething rage that burns through my entire being.

"Look closely, bro! It's Transformers! It's Optimus Prime! "What's with the lack of reaction? Are you even a man?" "But my girlfriend is still waiting …" "They can't compare to Optimus Prime!"

justified Miguel, walking out of the office followed by Catherine, who was adjusting her backpack on one shoulder. As the pair walked down the long hallway, Miguel provided brief explanations about one thing or another. At the end of the hallway, as expected, there were three black glass rooms that Miguel indicated were private meeting rooms, where people turned to when they needed more space. He also explained that nobody could enter those rooms without prior scheduling or requesting the key from the library, which was located at the end of the hallway. The library had a huge glass window where they could perfectly see numerous books on shelves. He also explained that despite having compute

I know she’s both thinking about the safety of the pack and my own exhaustion level. “The police are on their way to meet Scar where Channing found the dead human. And,” I say looking up to glance at the clock on my office wall, “in just about six hours, Leader Bruno will be here to talk to us and Scar’s parents about their experiences with the undead, so we can have some ideas in place for when Scarlett contacts COWS. You know she’ll want you in on that meeting, too.” That’s another great thing about Scarlett — she recognizes the value that the mate brings to the table. Zella, Asher and Lupita aren’t just the mates of myself, Bree and Jacob, granting them the titles of Beta, Gamma and Delta

I was afraid to have a ride on this beast at first, but I trusted Eren though he tried to scare the hell out of me by burning up the road like grease lightning. Eren puts on his matte black integral helmet and springs one leg to the other side of his seat to sit on it. I admire him as he starts the mammoth machine, revving it a few times till it backfires a blue smoky light, causing a fractious pulsating sound. I must admit, Eren is a sexy badass on that monster.

They weren't like the Frost-Walkers; they were cyborgs integrated with Void-tech, their limbs replaced by shimmering black chrome that hummed with a necrotic frequency. "Kael, Victor—take the Sentiners," I commanded, my voice echoing with the resonance of the Well. "The Doctor and the Mother... they belong to me." "Julian, his tablet controls the containment field!" Victor shouted as he engaged the first Sentinel, his pulse-pistol flaring. "If he drops it too fast, the backlash will vaporize the Tundra!" Kael didn't wait for a strategy. He lunged at two Sentinels at once, a whirlwind of claws and golden eyes. "Just keep the light steady, Julian! I’ll handle the scrap metal!"

Known as the Sentinels. "Oswald Vanguard finally withdrew, but he gave the muzzle of his war missile to an emotionally unstable little girl," said Sentinel One, a white man in a four-star military suit. On the giant screen in front of him, satellite photos of the ruins of the Ordo Draconis Cathedral in Europe and the charred Al-Khabith oil refinery were displayed.