Transformers Prime Devastator Novels & Stories

And while they completely overwhelmed the devastator’s power system inside, the thick layer of nanites voraciously ate through the chitin outside. It was clear that the Einherjar’s devastator was far from done, and kept on throwing mortars at it even after it started seeing the exoframe. Many who were paying attention on the battlefield watched with horror as Thanatos literally flooded its enemy with dozens and dozens of ravenous mortars. The Imperial devastator shuddered and shivered as it was struck over and over again by Thanatos’ unrelenting barrage. It began to list and fall as its internal systems were chewed out and emptied at a frightening pace.

“You’ll shoot me, Roman? After all the years you spent running in circles around your guilt?” Roman’s jaw tightened. Eden took a slow breath. “This ends here.” Valeska smiled. “Then let’s make it count.” With a flick of her hand, the monolith began to hum louder. The rings spun faster, lights pulsing. And then the chamber shuddered. Doors slammed shut. Alarms wailed. Kessler’s voice broke through the earpiece, panicked. “You’ve triggered a defense lock. She’s activating Project Caldera!” Valeska raised her voice over the sound. “I built this as a legacy, Eden. You were meant to lead it. You still can.”

"I’m giving them back their debt." The obsidian crystal cracked. A jagged line of white-violet light tore through the center of the Master Battery. The feedback hit Jago’s console, exploding in a shower of blue sparks that sent him flying across the room. The shields vanished. Dante lunged forward, his salvaged core glowing. He didn't hit Jago; he hit the primary stabilization valve for the tanks. With a hiss of steam, the pressure in the Vault equalized. The violet liquid in the tanks drained into the floor, and the glass doors slid open.

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.

[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.

Dorian screamed. We dove sideways. We rolled behind a stack of crates. Dorian hit the detonator. BOOM. The explosion shook the entire hangar. The robot’s leg sheared off at the knee. Metal twisted and snapped. The Reaper Prime toppled. It crashed to the floor with a sound like a collapsing building. It was down. But it was not dead. The upper torso was still active. It dragged itself across the floor using its arms. The Gatling guns spun up again. It was crawling toward us like a mechanical zombie.

The immediate threat was gone, and the dark-matter satellite began to crumble beneath their feet. "Hell of a right hook, boss," Marcus panted, lowering his shield. "We need to move," Jack said, his eyes fixed on the horizon of the Dyson Sphere. Where the Avatar had died, a temporal distortion field had shattered. Deep in the distance, tearing through the haze of planetary debris, the true core of the Devourer was finally exposed. It wasn't a monster. It was a chained, corrupted, primordial star.

Chandler nodded. "I suppose." The doctor came back into the room, a grim expression plastered on his face. "Is everything alright?" I asked him, suddenly worried. "Unfortunately, no," He said. "We're not going to be able to transfuse your blood." "Why? Is something wrong with it?" He shook his head. "Quite the opposite, really. It's much too potent for Mr. Chandler." "Too potent?" Vega asked. "What does that mean?" "You come from a very strong lineage of Lycanthropes, Your Highness," he said to me.

Sunlight hit the roof at a perfect glare, but the drone adjusted, stabilizing the feed. “Target vehicle stopped,” I said into comms. Marcos’s voice crackled through the mic. "You won't see me coming... not until your world’s already ash." His voice crackled through the mic. I snickered. “Dumbass doesn’t know we’re already one step ahead.” Ivan stood beside me, arms folded, silent and still. He didn’t speak unless it mattered. The rear door opened. A voice came through. Nervous, stammering. “Boss, we—”

Luna said but without imperativeness. Van's expression turned different, he turned enraged, "I saw the most despicable person to ever live, Benitez, in a fight with a very strong yet old man which according to my understanding was somehow related to you. Then all of a sudden, Benitez… transformed," Van's expression turned confused, his forehead scrunched. He looked at Luna, "He had this grotesque appearance. Eyes burning red, his body bleeding of black blood, and skin stretching and scraping off as he doubles in size. He was stabbed in the heart but was only momentarily weak. It was terrifying. How can he be that strong and… appalling? He's just… human." "What happened to the other man?" Lun