Starscream Transformers Prime Toy Novels & Stories

—a floating monolith of archived history—and swung himself into a landing on a platform made of Compressed-Silence. Above them, the aperture of the bridge hummed with a cold, sterile light. Standing at the edge was the Alpha-Prime 2.0. Her silver hair shimmered like a dying star, and her eyes—that chilling, calculated violet—looked down at them not with hatred, but with a terrifying Indifference.

Waiting until there were no witnesses. With slow, careful movements, Clarissa turned the handle and opened the door. Light from the corridor spilled in slightly, falling across the bed where Junior slept curled up. A Transformers robot toy was clutched tightly to his chest. Optimus Prime. A gift from Alina for Junior's third birthday. Clarissa knew this because she'd heard the story countless times. From Margaret. From the staff. Even from Junior himself when the boy was still comfortable enough to talk to her. "Mama Alina said Optimus is strong like Junior. So Junior has to take care of him."

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..."

[ANOMALY IDENTIFIED: THE MOTHER] [STATUS: TERMINAL PETRIFICATION 94%] [VERDICT: EXHAUSTED CONDUCTOR] The Prime’s voice wasn't a sound; it was a tectonic roar that bypassed my ears and vibrated directly in my stone ribs. He ignored me. He looked at Leo—the "System Correction" he had planted in the bloodline five centuries ago. [REMAINDER. RETURN. REBOOT.] Leo went rigid. His small fists opened, his gold static flaring until the room turned white. He didn't look at the Prime with hate; he looked at him with a terrifying, clinical devotion.