Transformers Prime Devastator Novels & Stories

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.

The prototype lifted its head— revealing eyes glowing with unstable gold, flickering violently like broken light. It spoke with a distorted voice: “…more…” Lena recoiled. This wasn’t human. Not anymore. “What is he?” she whispered. Kass replied with a scientist’s pride. “A failed Primarch. A weapon built from purge DNA. Until now, it had no anchor.” Her smile deepened. “But with your stabilizer gene… it might finally survive.” Lena’s pulse thundered. “You’re creating a monster.” “No,” Kass corrected, “I’m perfecting one.”

His infected hand was wrapped tight in duct tape—a makeshift cast to keep the wound closed. "Fresh meat!" Torque shouted from his VIP box—a suspended crane cabin overlooking the arena. "The Big Man says he lifts heavy. Let's see if he hits heavy." A gate on the far side of the Pit groaned open. The crowd roared. Walking out of the shadows wasn't a man. It was a Mining Droid. Specifically, a "Demolisher Class" unit. It stood seven feet tall, painted hazard yellow, with thick armor plating. Its right arm ended in a rotary rock-drill. Its left arm was a massive hydraulic hammer.

She hid behind the vanity as she peeked to see what was happening. "You traitor!" player 4 winced in pain as he tried to free himself from player 7's grip. This made the player 7 laugh. She had an amused face as she threw a hard object on the vanity, which caused it to completely break. Eleonna almost had a heart attack when she thought she'll be caught. Luckily, the side where she was hiding was still intact. "W-wait... you're not player 7. Who are you?!" the guy furiously shouted at her when he realized the voice wasn't the same as the original player 7 he knew.

a voice boomed. From the center of the room, a massive figure stepped out. It was ten feet tall, made of matte-black armor and white light. It had the shape of a man, but its face was a blank, silver screen. "I am the Sentinel Prime," the machine said. "I am the sum of all the failures. I am the wall that you cannot climb." The machine raised a hand, and a blade of pure energy ignited from its wrist. It didn't lunge. it teleported.

“Whatever-the-fuck. Anyway, I been watchin’ from here almost every night since then and he’s always gone real late on Wednesday nights. I’m goin’ in there and I’m bustin’ inta that stone chest . . . ” He reached behind him, unzipped his backpack and pulled out a short-handled, hand-held sledgehammer. He hefted it, like he was Thor and it was Mjölnir. “I’m bustin’ in there and gettin’ that box and I’m crushin’ all those tiles to fuckin’ powder. I dunno how I know it, but I do. Dad’s soul is trapped in them things, and I’m gonna let it out.”

I know this cologne. I stepped aside from the person and looked up. I trembled as the bottle of water fell from my hands. Standing before me is the very devil himself wearing all black and his hair was hidden under a black beanie. His Forest-green eyes adopted a red shade. On the front of his jeans, gun projects. His boots look dirty and have a muddy stain on them. "Lando," I whispered too quietly. "Yea baby." His lips curved into a crooked smirk. How did he get in? And where is Dave?

"You believe you have won because you reached the nursery," the First Investor’s voice boomed, vibrating the very marrow of Elena’s bones. "But this Vault was never a sanctuary. It is a Detonator. The moment I depress this switch, the resonance between the Moon and the Earth’s Core will turn into a 'Sympathetic Collapse.' The Earth won't just burn, Elena. It will shatter." Alexander’s violet form was pulsing erratically. He was no longer a man; he was a living bridge of data and soul, his light tethering Selene (the Executioner) to Leo (the Prism).

“Well, let’s see how it goes… “ “Last time, it was kamaitachi… what’s it going to be this time around?... “ At the north special box of the Colosseum, Flavius Great-grandmother nodded her head as she watches following a loud clanking and plonking sound, hearkened through out the arena as chains rattled before long half of the arena tensely folded into the other half where the EXTERMINATOR stood heavily as red and black vapor emitted from it’s invulnerable body appearing as though series of plates were tacked on above the other conjointly cladded with great helm revealing an eye slit that glowed in red standing many feet taller and different in appearance than when Herminia previously wore it

—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.