Transformers Smokescreen Prime Novels & Stories

Like he had found a bug in a program he was trying to run. "Ah, the 'Anomalies,'" the man said, his voice booming through the megaphone. "Kaima and Rowan. The 'Star-Crossed Rebels.' We’ve been expecting you." He walked toward us, the crowd of survivors parting like water. "I'm Director Smith," he said, tucking his clipboard under his arm. "I’m the head of the 'Transition Team.' I want to thank you for your service. Your 'Rebellion' in Season 3 provided enough emotional data to fund this entire Preserve. You’re heroes, in a way."

“Monroe buried the primary access behind multiple biometric failsafes—linked to him and you.” Aurora’s gaze flicked between Damien and Prime. “So either you override the system…” “Or he does,” Damien finished grimly. The pod hissed again, the fluid beginning to drain. Prime’s form rose, unbothered by gravity, landing barefoot on the steel platform. Naked, expressionless, and terrifyingly calm. Prime stepped forward, movements fluid but mechanical, like a man who hadn’t yet remembered how to be human. Damien stepped between him and the others.

She stares out of the window, watching the streets grow nicer, taller, shinier as they climb. “So he’s heard of me,” she says, trying for casual. “Babe,” Sofia says, “he probably knows your national insurance number.” The lift opens straight into the penthouse. Glass is the first thing Layla notices—walls of it, wrapping around a living room that overlooks the city like it’s something to be surveyed rather than lived in. It smells faintly of expensive perfume and something darker underneath: leather, wood polish, a hint of smoke.

"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.

The smoke-claws didn’t just touch the monitor; they rewrote the physics of the glass, turning the reinforced screen into a liquid portal of necrotic shadow. I felt the intrusion hit my stone ribs before the hand even cleared the frame—a jagged, high-frequency violation that tasted of the Second Prime’s lingering spite.

"Because as you all may or may not know, we are pregnant with fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. Now, let's hurry up and party- so you all can leave exhausted, drunk and full!" More applause and then he handed the mic back to Dylan who looked happy for us but empty in himself. I felt sorry for the man and hoped he'd find someone and soon. As we prepared to transition to the other side of the golf trail to the beautifully erected tents for the reception we watched black smoke appear in the sky. Off in the distance where the maze is. I felt Reece's hand tighten and then his body go rigid as he took out his ringing cell phone to answer it.

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.

Then three cobalt steel androids emerged from the mist that was swirling like a hurricane. “Hey,” Adrian said, using the light generated by her ruby quartz so we could see where we were. “Who turned on the smoke?” “I did,” a mysterious voice answered. The smoke gathered in one spot. “What’s happening?” Adrian asked. The smog gradually transformed itself into a human body: a skinny, African American teenager with a dragon tattoo on his left arm. “Hope I didn’t hit you guys. Those drones were getting on my nerves,” the fellow said. Adrian said, “Dude, it was unbelievable.”

Jeremy’s dark and cold expression changed. Clearly, he was convinced by what Joy said. “You’re really smart, Bae. I’m too impatient. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll execute the plan when you say it’s time.” Then, they started shamelessly dirty talking. I hurriedly turned off the security footage, cradled my chest, leaned over the toilet bowl, and gagged. My eyes burned with such rage that they became bloodshot. I turned on the water tap and dunked my head into the water-filled basin. The feeling of asphyxiation made my head clear up.

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.”