Transformers Prime Vehicons Novels & Stories

But his eyes weren't gold; they were a flat, glowing violet, and his skin was covered in a mesh of integrated circuitry. "Subject 000-Prime," the man spoke, his voice a perfect, soulless mimicry of Caleb’s own. "The father of your line. You are merely a copy of a copy, 001. A weapon that developed a soul. A flaw that must be erased." The Prime pulled a blade of solid Void-energy from his wrist. Caleb stepped forward, the silver in his eyes burning with a fire that no machine could replicate. "A flaw?" Caleb smirked, his claws extending. "That 'flaw' is the only thing that's going to survive this conversation."

Back to the hell he called a home. Her fingers tightened slightly. “Never again…” she whispered under her breath, her voice cold this time. Although she had driven an armored vehicle before, it had never been anything like this. This… this was on a completely different level. Still, she took a steady breath and sat in the driver’s seat. Ding! [Armored Vehicle – System Overview] {High-efficiency nuclear-electric hybrid core Near-infinite energy conversion. Silent mode available} {1,000 tons of fuel (System-compressed storage. Auto-refill compatibility with system inventory)}

They move with a slow, predatory grace that makes my stomach flip. Alpha Prime leads them. He is the largest, a wall of scarred muscle with eyes that glow a dark, hungry gold. He doesn't wear a shirt, and the heat radiating off his chest is like a furnace. Behind him are the Twins, Silas and Kael. They are identical, massive, and move in total sync, their heavy boots thudding against the floor at the exact same time. Trailing behind is the Feral. He is the youngest, and his eyes are wide and wild. He looks sick with lust, his chest heaving as he catches the scent of my heat.

Vane raised his crystalline scepter, slamming the base of the staff against the violet alloy floor. Deep within the central sphere, a massive, pressurized piston groaned. The thousands of dormant geometric towers across the vault began to slide open, exposing thousands of pristine, black crystalline containment pods. Inside each pod hung a fully matured obsidian titan—not the basic infantry beasts from the palace, but massive, armored vanguards with three glowing purple eyes and scythe-claws that ran the length of their entire limbs. "You destroyed the factory upstairs, little Queen," Vane laughed, a maniacal sound that rattled the obsidian pillars. "But the true army was always waiting here

It wasn't the apocalypse yet, and running people over meant jail time. "Have the truck delivered there. Just leave the keys in the truck." With that, Victor turned and left. The saleswoman stared at the keys, bewildered. "He's just going to trust me with the keys? He's not even coming along?" It wasn't that Victor was naive. He was simply not worried about someone stealing the truck. After the machine invasion, vehicles would transform into mecha, and the mecha would belong to whoever owned them. They could not be stolen. Victor had other important things to do and didn't want to waste time on such trivial matters.

Jessa, the supply omega, was completely paralyzed with shock the second she realized her tactical uniform was resting against custom crimson leather upholstery. The reinforced doors were etched with the Valeheart crest, contained within a diamond-cut border to signify her status as an independent matriarch. Kael’s transport truck, I observed, featured matte-black unbranded plating and looked like a vehicle that had survived thousands of miles of heavy combat operations across multiple territories. Derogate, our chief household enforcer, would probably deny entry if that battered rig pulled up outside our primary residence on Wolfstone Avenue.

It belonged to architects of war. A new silhouette moved past the broken slat of the container’s door: a man leaning over the armored vehicle. He was enormous in presence and wore a patch on his chest—an insignia Damian recognized in the tremor of a memory: the crowned wolf, but altered—wired with circuit lines, a hybrid of old sigil and new tech. This wasn’t merely a mercenary clan. This was a faction that had learned to graft machine onto myth. The man met Damian’s eyes through the gap and lifted a gloved hand.

I smirked. I turned back to the gun collection picking and choosing our favourites, "Autocannon, Bolt Pistol, Lasgun, Pulse Rifle, Lancer Pistol and lastly, for you Jack, a heavy bolter." I walked back to the table where the hologram was displayed. "Vehicles, the Rezvani Tank, Telsla Model S and lastly, Lexus Black Panther," Tyler stated.

"She called them to have a chassis." The armored transport’s rear display screens flickered back to life, but the Vesper logo was gone. In its place was a live text-stream that was writing itself across the dashboard in the unpolished, erratic handwriting of the cabin's old drafts. Chapter 50: The Recall. Status: Assets accounted for. Current Executive: Wolfe, F.

"Ghost, he's a genius! The massive tungsten-carbide injection capsules at the base of the drills! They're designed to withstand absolute thermal and kinetic crushing pressure!" I pulled up the schematics for the Prime Forges. "They're cylindrical. Fifty feet long, heavily armored, with no windows. They run on a closed-loop internal life-support system. It's basically a giant, pressurized iron coffin." "Can you put an engine on it?" Dax asked.