Transformers Prime Smokescreen Prime Novels & Stories

I can feel the heat of their bodies, but the air between us feels like a barrier I need to smash. "Please," I rasp. My voice is wrecked. "Please, I need... I’m so empty." Prime chuckles. It is a dark, cruel sound. He walks up to me until his chest is inches from my nose. He smells of cedar, smoke, and raw male power. He reaches out, but he doesn't touch my skin. He just holds his hand near my face, letting me smell the musk on his skin. "You want this, Omega?" Prime asks. "You want to be the pack’s whore tonight? You want us to fill every hole until you can’t remember your own name?"

It didn't take him long to arrive at the smoking area that was completely empty, much to his relief since he wanted to be alone for a while. The wide area built with a combination of wood and glass gives a sense of relaxing, natural earthy feel, set outside in a direction where the wind frequently blows so it makes the people occupying feel quite refreshing even though it reeks of sweat and tobacco. Adler closed the glass door when he entered to lessen the noise of the busy road. He immediately set his butt down on the nearest bench, sitting on de cuatro and resting his back on the wooden wall. Sighing, he fished out his pack of cigarettes and lighter from his pocket, pressing the former on

But if he didn't make it to her, plan B wouldn't even be able to commence. With shaking hands, he hunted through the strapped bag he had on his shoulder and grabbed the first smoke bomb he found before throwing it in Damon's direction. "That oughta bring you mutt down!" He grinned, slowing down slightly so he could stare gloatingly at the smoke screen he had successfully created. That smoke bomb also had traces of wolvesbane so Kevin was certain that no werewolf would be able continue moving at full speed after having inhaling it....not even Damon. This was his chance, his chance to spring towards her cell! But again, he had underestimated his enemy.

Alpha Draxler, observing the unfolding scene with a predatory gaze, exuded an air of unwavering confidence. "Don't die trying to keep up with me," he sneered, his words a taunt that echoed through the charged atmosphere. In that crucial moment, Jake seized the opportunity to alter the course of the confrontation. With a swift motion, he threw the smoke bomb onto the floor. The metallic canister erupted in a hiss of smoke, creating a temporary shroud that veiled our movements from Draxler's keen eyes.

Of course, he doesn't say it out loud and even waits for her to end the call before he starts cursing up a storm. "Bitch! Bastarda! You whore child! Fucking animal! She should have just sent me the email! That's one wasted hour of my life you asshole! Ugh! Never mind... have to find a solution to this or else we might end up with a no-go on the Specter-Smoke-Speed deal. And that ain't happening..." The Smoke stays silent for a moment and then his eyes light up with a sudden revelation... Yes! I'm sure this will work... He then dials his mobile and waits for an answer...

But as we slowed our approach toward the city limits, my data-deck vibrated again. I looked down at the screen. The single Sun-Hound hadn't retreated to run away. He had retreated to call in the cavalry. On the horizon behind us, emerging from the tree line of the glowing jungle, wasn't another squad of hover-bikes. It was a Prime Forge. It looked like a crawling city block. A colossal, treaded walking factory, belching black smoke into the pristine air, its massive cannons rotating to lock onto our coordinates. "Prez," Tank said slowly, bringing his trike to a halt. "We're gonna need a bigger gun."

The enforcers froze, their movements faltering. "What… what is that?" Lia stammered, pointing at the vat. Riska's device shrieked. "The energy signature… it’s Core Prime! They're not just pursuing us. They're trying to… absorb our creation! They’re trying to weaponize it themselves!" The liquid in the vat began to glow with an unnatural, phosphorescent light, mirroring the corrupted glow of the reservoir. The potent aroma of their mixture was being distorted, twisted, corrupted by Core Prime's overwhelming influence.

A voice boomed over the loudspeakers—a cold, bureaucratic voice that sounded like a death warrant. "Vessel 002. Alpha Anchor 001. You are in violation of the Global Sovereignty Act. Surrender immediately for 'Repurposing.' Any resistance will result in the immediate annihilation of Sector 7." "They're going to burn the slums if I don't go," I realized, the Lagos-grit in my soul warring with the protective instinct of a girl who had finally found her family. "They’re going to burn the slums anyway, Zora," Dante said. He pulled a small, silver cylinder from his inner pocket—a high-end Vane Global "Smoke-Screen" device. "Give me the coin."

—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.

Each of the canisters erupted with deep black smoke that spread quickly and practically obfuscated everything. The smoke was so thick that the terrorists without augmented visors could hardly see past their snouts. But even worse, those without helmets or environmental suits couldn’t breathe. Numerous terrorists began to choke and gag from the smoke that surrounded them. Out of sheer panic, they ran in various directions and caused absolute chaos wherever they went. They accidentally knocked around other Fundamentalists, or broke their formations, or interrupted their aim. Of course, the security forces didn’t have any such problems. The combat visors installed in their armored helmets allow