Transformers Prime Smokescreen Prime Novels & Stories

"You think this is a victory? You've just stunted the planet's evolution. You’ve condemned yourselves to a slow death in a scorched forest." ​"We've lived in the soot before," I said, standing up as the steam began to clear. My hands were no longer green; they were charred, the metal scars glowing with residual heat. "We’re quite good at it." ​Sarah-Prime didn't wait for a second exchange. A small, translucent drone descended from the clouds, snatching her up before Killian could reload. As she ascended, she looked down at the blackened spire of the Ninth Core.

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..."

The moment of truth. My fingers were inches from the chip when the entire wall of windows behind Jeff exploded inwards. The world dissolved into a shower of screaming glass and roaring wind. A sleek, black aerial drone hovered where the window had been, its weapons systems humming with lethal intent. Standing in the jagged opening, silhouetted against the city lights, was Prime. Her obsidian eyes glinted, and her voice cut through the chaos, cold and absolute. “The emotional compromise is complete,” she stated, her rifle rising again, not toward me, but toward Jeff. “Targeting the architect. Eliminating the corruption at its source.”

“Doesn’t matter. You can beat me up all you want—even kill me. That video is still going out. You’re just wasting your time.” Zeke let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t listen, do you?” He tossed Francis’s phone to Smoke, who caught it effortlessly. “This is Smoke, by the way. One of the best private investigators out there. And he’s ‘a bit’ of a hacker. He's going to permanently wipe the video from your phone as well as any other device you have transferred it to.” Francis's eyes narrowed. “That's not possible.” Smoke raised an eyebrow at him. “And I love proving idiots like you wrong,” he muttered, moving to the bed where he set his laptop down, connecting the phone to it wi

I huff in annoyance and I glare at him, “Is your mate Roman? Because Roman is the only one I did anything with last night.” Priam turns to give me a very shady look, before sighing and turning away again. He brings out one of his sticks of “medicinal” cigarettes, and he puts it at his lips. I jump when Priam snaps his fingers and sparks emanate from them. My heart slams in my chest, my tongue flies to my throat, I stare at him in wild-eyed wonder. He shakes his hand like he’s trying to put out whatever bit of fire he might still have on them.

The goal of dying in peace rather than being cursed to follow evil biddings for the rest of their existence. They were the last of the Primes, an ancient blood of werewolves made to be a puppet of warring tribes. And Augustus vowed to protect his brothers no matter what. He had no time to waste now. He needed to think fast on how to break their curse and be human to find peace they had been seeking for what seemed an eternity now. Yet he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Nothing in their life was. Distraction would do him no good. Entering his room on the third floor, he pulled off his hoodie over his head, realizing something was in the front pocket. Reaching for it, he stared at an I.D., reading t

2Pac had his eyes locked on his side mirrors and he tried to shut down all of Amy’s attempts to pass his truck. Amy knew 2Pac would give her a hard time, and she prepared herself for it. She lost her focus on passing the truck when she heard a loud clamoring coming from the muscle car’s rear window. The heavy clamoring was the sound of bullets striking the Camaro’s rear window and trunk. The bad part was that Amy and her husband were getting struck by enemy fire, and the good part was that Amy’s 1969 Camaro ZL1 had bulletproof paneling and glass. Bryan ducked his head down at first, thinking the bullets were going to shatter the Camaro’s rear window. To his surprise, he could see the bullets

Richard hit the ground, his spine thudding against the dirt. "Stay. Put." Joshua turned back to the pit. He didn't use a lighter. He didn't use a match. He cracked the amber vial and poured a thick, neon-green liquid over a pile of dry pine needles. A soft whump followed. No smoke. No orange flame. Just a steady, intense wall of blue heat that shimmered in the dark. "Chemical catalyst," Joshua said, answering the question Richard hadn't asked yet. "Smokeless. Odorless. The Tundra scouts won't see a thermal bloom on their sensors if I keep the pitch low."

Danielle says over my shoulder and sounds as confused as her explanation is. “I don’t see anything, just wolves being whipped up into the air, there’s no creature there.” Erin says, sounding worried. My eyes open as I look towards the monitor she’s watching. Danielle’s right, the solid smoke is swatting pack members away like flies, but doing nothing to harm them. Weird. Where is he going? “Alpha Drake, where is the smog guy going? Do you have anything there that it would target?” I ask through the link. “Nothing but the lake between us and the packhouse, I’m not sure about a smog guy though.” Alpha Drake responds. “We are trying to figure out this forcefield that keeps tossing us around.”

Resting his head on the top of my own, we waited until Tenny seemed to find what he was looking for. "Ah, yes." He pointed to a page that was decorated in gold and silver - actual flakes of the elements if I wasn't mistaken. "This figure is the Prime." The figure was neither male or female by external markers. Haloed in colors from concentric circles of palest to darkest, the Prime stood on what looked to be a bed of snakes. Each snake was eating the tail of the snake closest to it. Each snake was a slightly different color as well. Dozens of lines ran from Prime to the snakes. From Prime's hands, body, face, feet. Everywhere. Prime looked vaguely like a voodoo doll.