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Standing in a huge junkyard in the Nevada desert, surrounded by piles of wrecked cars and trucks, Ironhide knew a fight was coming. He just didn’t know when.
A living robot with bright blue optical receptors and black-and-silver metal plating, Ironhide was from the planet Cybertron. He was also a friend and follower of Optimus Prime, the leader of the Cybertronian faction known as the Autobots. Because Ironhide’s sensors included night-vision optics, he could see everything in the darkness clearly. As he surveyed the ruined machinery and twisted scraps of metal all around him, the hulking Autobot didn’t bother trying to determine which vehicles had been used until they were damaged beyond repair and which had wound up in the junkyard because of human neglect. He was just glad that none of the ruined machines had ever been alive, because then the forlorn resting place would have been a real graveyard.
Still, he thought, it sure looks like a graveyard.
Ironhide didn’t believe in ghosts, and very few things in the universe scared him. But he didn’t like the idea of fighting in an area filled with so much battered and forgotten scrap metal. The sight brought back too many harsh memories—memories that he didn’t like to think about.
The scarred old Autobot shook his broad head. Enough stinkin’ thinkin’. There’s work to be done.
He took a cautious step forward. He had oiled his joints so he could move quietly, but it was impossible to make himself entirely noiseless. He looked around. Although it wasn’t uncommon for rats and other vermin to live in junkyards, Ironhide was not surprised that he didn’t see any. He was certain that he was the only living thing within the confines of the junkyard’s rusty metal fences.
But he was also certain he was not alone. He knew he was being hunted.
Ironhide took another step forward. The impact of his giant metal foot on the ground caused a nearby pile of bent and twisted car doors to bounce slightly. Out of casual routine, he performed a quick check of the primary weapons built into his metal body. His arm cannons, missile launchers, and megabazooka were all operational. Satisfied with his weapons status, he then checked his other systems. His optical, auditory, and olfactory sensors were all operating normally. They didn’t detect any traces of another entity in the junkyard.
The ancient Autobot didn’t like the fact that his sensors hadn’t turned up anything. From extensive experience, he knew that he was in for trouble, that he was about to encounter something not only unexpected, but also very dangerous.
All righty, then, Ironhide thought as he curled the fingers of his right hand into a metal fist. You wanna play hide-and-seek? I know that game. And I know you’re not gonna like it when you lose.
Servos whining, Ironhide broke into a trot among the stacks of crushed vehicles, and he crossed the length of the junkyard in twenty seconds. He reached a gap between a row of junked parts and the surrounding fence and quickly turned his scarred head left, then right. Broken glass and metal glittered in the moonlight, but his scans didn’t find anything resembling a caution or a hazard.
Not a single thing worth blasting.
The junkyard was like a huge maze. Ironhide turned right, arm cannons held in front of him. Another long pathway lined with piles of smaller metal scrap awaited him—old washers and dryers, bicycles and shopping carts. The path was broken here and there by spaces big enough for a forklift… or a Cybertronian.
Keep your cool, Ironhide told himself. It’s just like Ky-Alexia, or the Tangles back on Gorlam Prime. Those battles turned out fine.
Moving quickly, the massive Autobot jogged from row to row, amplifying his sensory input each time he had to peek around the corner of a stack of wrecked parts. Again and again, the outcome was the same. No matter where he looked, he found nothing. Out of sheer annoyance, he almost said out loud, Come out, come out, wherever you are!
But then Ironhide heard a faint noise. If he hadn’t set his auditory inputs to maximum sensitivity, he would have missed it entirely. He thought it sounded like metal on gravel and dirt, but he couldn’t tell which direction it had come from. Only after he turned his head quickly to the right and then left did he realize that the noise must have come from behind him.
A millisecond later, he didn’t have any difficulty hearing the roar of a missile launching or sensing that it was approaching fast, straight for the back of his head.
Ironhide threw himself flat against a pile of scrap metal. A brilliant streak of fire burst through the area of space where his head had been just a split second before. The intensity of the missile’s trail scrambled his optical sensors, filling them with static and leaving him unable to see clearly, but he heard the missile scream straight into a stack of late-model fender bender victims. The missile detonated, sending shards of metal and glass and plastic flying in all directions.
On second thought, Ironhide mused, Ky-Alexia was no picnic.
His leg servos screaming, the Autobot blinked and tried to adjust his vision as he threw himself backward, aiming for whomever or whatever had fired the missile at him. Flipping through the air, he landed on his hands, then shoved off the ground, hoping his feet would connect with his attacker. And when his feet did connect, he felt the satisfying impact of metal on metal, and he instinctively knew that he hadn’t just hit a stack of crushed cars.
Ironhide bounced off the thing he’d hit, then rolled into an upright position and unleashed his arm cannons to shoot a barrage of projectiles. As he turned and fired, the static faded from his visual field, allowing him to see that his enemy was an unmanned robotic tank with a dull black exterior. And much to his regret, he also saw that his arm cannons had fired too high.
The tank had two treads, one in back and one in front. The armored vehicle was topped with a low turret that held a single long gun barrel. Ironhide automatically scanned the tank, registering that it had a nonreflective surface that gave off minimal heat. The tank was invisible to a wide range of sensors, and it was especially hard to see at night.
Clever, Ironhide thought. But I see you now! He opened fire. Although his first cannon shots had missed, his second barrage hit the base of the tank’s turret, knocking the tank backward a few feet and leaving dents and scorch marks. But the turret kept turning, trying to put the Autobot back in the tank’s sights.
Tough armor. But not this tough! Ironhide rapidly cycled his weapons, replacing his right arm cannon with a missile launcher. Responding to his electronic command, his forearm’s metal parts began to slide and retract as other parts extended, reshaping themselves into a missile-launcher configuration. Unfortunately, his parts were still shifting when the tank fired again.
Ironhide threw himself hard to one side, bracing himself for an explosive impact. But instead of getting what he’d expected, he received another bright flash of fire that blinded him again. He rolled across the dirt, blinking as he tried to put distance between himself and the tank. When his optics cleared a moment later, the tank was gone.
Ironhide looked at the ground and saw tread marks leading off to the left. His sensors determined that the tank had fled in the same direction from which it had come. Missile launcher ready, he followed the tread marks, but they disappeared in a stretch of gravel and dirt that looked completely undisturbed. Only the tank’s initial burst of speed had left tracks that Ironhide could follow. He continued to the next gap between junk piles, but the tank was nowhere in sight. Evidently, the tank was as stealthy as it was fast and well armored.
Okay, Ironhide thought, gotta admit: I’m impressed.
Wanting to view the area from a higher vantage point, the Autobot diverted maximum power to the servos in his legs and leaped thirty feet into the air, sensors dialed for maximum sensitivity. He spotted the tank moving up another gap between piled junk, but the tank saw him, too, and responded by firing another missile.
The missile zoomed past Ironhide’s right shoulder, close enough that he felt the heat from its exhaust. He tumbled to the ground, landed heavily, and prepped his missile launcher as he sprinted around a heap of rusting car doors to emerge at the end of the row where he’d seen the tank. Finding his target, he opened fire, aiming for the turret. He’d expected the tank to take evasive action or to retreat. Instead, the turret plunged swiftly, ducking into its own body as it lurched forward to intercept him. Ironhide’s missiles streaked over the tank’s sunken turret and struck a section of the distant fence. As the fence turned into an explosion of smoke and broken, sparking wires, the tank collided with Ironhide’s metal midsection, knocking the Autobot off his feet and onto the tank’s black hull.
Ironhide tried to shove himself free from the tank, but his hands only slid against its smooth surface. As he struggled to find a grip, the tank rose up on its back treads, folded its front section down to place the turret on the central front area of its outer frame, and shifted its form so it appeared to be rising to a standing position before it came to a sudden stop. Ironhide fell backward as the tank motored into reverse on its lower treads, pulling away from him. As he rolled across the ground, he glanced at the tank to see that it was readjusting its turret back up to take aim at him.
Before the tank could fire, Ironhide sprang forward and tackled his opponent. He lost his footing in a loose stretch of gravel and wound up being dragged along as the tank continued to scramble in reverse. The tank swerved around a wrecked truck, whose grille clipped the back of Ironhide’s left hand. The impact jarred his hand free, and he flailed for a better grip on the tank until his fingers locked onto the turret’s long gun barrel.
The tank swung the barrel wildly back and forth, trying to break the Autobot’s hold, but Ironhide kept a firm grip as he dug his feet into the ground. The tank’s engine whined and groaned as it slowed to a stop.
“Gotcha!” Ironhide yelled.
Small hatches popped open across the tank’s hull, exposing several machine guns. The guns fired, spraying bullets at Ironhide’s metal body. Ironhide yelled as warnings poured in from his electronic nerves, but then he shut down the warnings because he knew his upper body was fairly well protected, at least for a short time. Bullets continued to bounce off him as he held tightly to the turret’s barrel with his right hand. He pushed the barrel as hard as he could, producing a loud groan of stressed metal as he bent it upward.
The tank shuddered. Ironhide kept his grip on the ruined turret as the tank shifted its form so it was once again resting on both treads. Ironhide let go, landing in the gravel to crouch on one knee beside the tank. The tank’s turret spun around, but the end of its bent barrel now pointed uselessly at the sky.
Ironhide checked his systems. The machine-gun fire had cut into his upper left arm, but the damage was minor. As Ironhide rose to his feet, determined to finish the fight, the tank suddenly backed away from him.
“Yer going down,” Ironhide growled as he extended his right arm. But then he saw two more hatches open in the tank’s upper surface. Out popped a copper-colored dish and a gleaming silver tube. The dish suddenly glowed red, and Ironhide’s sensors became instantly overwhelmed by electronic noise. Static simultaneously clouded his vision and screeched through his auditory circuits, overloading them.
Still extending his right arm, Ironhide struggled to focus as he stepped forward and launched a missile. The missile went wide to the right, smashing into car parts and sending them tumbling across the junkyard. As he groped for the tank, he did not see that its silver tube, a directed-energy weapon, had stopped moving, or that it was pointed straight at him. Nor did he hear the humming noise as the weapon activated, but he did feel the intense heat that shot up through his right arm and shoulder, causing his sensors to scream in protest.
“First missiles and machine guns,” Ironhide snarled, “and now electronic countermeasures and microwaves? You’re full of surprises!” Still blinded, he sprang forward and grabbed the tank. He shoved it with all his might into the nearest pile of junk, half burying it in the scorched wreckage of a utility truck and dislodging the crushed vehicles stacked above the truck. As the tank struggled to free itself from the avalanche, Ironhide shook his head again, shaking off the effects of the tank’s electronic weapons. His vision cleared, and he launched one giant foot at the tank’s hull to stomp on the copper dish. The dish shattered, and the shrieking in Ironhide’s ears stopped.
Ironhide grabbed the tank’s microwave cannon and mashed it into scrap. He seized the twisted turret, holding the tank still as he aimed his missile launcher at the seam where the turret joined the hull. A series of beeps and a data readout confirmed he had missile lock—not that he needed any confirmation to hit a target that was only two feet away. He was about to fire a missile when spotlights flared to life on all sides of the junkyard.
“End test!” a man’s voice boomed and echoed over the junkyard. “End test!”
Ironhide recognized the voice. “Nothin’ doin’, General,” he said. “I’m in a mood to remodel, and this tank will look a lot better with a big smoking hole in it.”
“Ironhide,” said another voice. This one was deep and not even slightly human, and it had a tone that betrayed that the speaker was used to others following his orders. “The exercise is complete. Stand down.”
Ironhide knew that Optimus Prime wasn’t joking. But as he lowered his arm and stepped away from the wrecked tank, he said, “Aw, c’mon, boss. Can’t a guy have a little fun?”
A canvas-topped military truck sped down the lane among piles of junk, followed by the towering form of Optimus Prime, whose blue armor plating was decorated with red flames. The truck came to a stop, and General Marcus emerged, accompanied by two aides who were followed by a man in a white lab coat. The man in the coat had long gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses.
“Interesting exercise, Ironhide,” General Marcus said, blue eyes bright against his tanned face.
“Interesting?” Ironhide shrugged. “I guess that’s one way to describe it.” He tried not to laugh at the sight of the general’s U.S. Army uniform, which he thought looked ridiculous, the way it was covered with insignia, ribbons, and medals. Why do Earth’s military leaders like to decorate themselves with all that stuff? But Ironhide had to admit that General Marcus was sensible for a human. Ever since Marcus’s Army unit had joined forces with the secret military unit known as NEST, an acronym for Non-biological Extraterrestrial Species Treaty, he’d proved himself as a very capable commanding officer. The Autobots and the U.S. armed forces had formed NEST to join their efforts in defending Earth against the Decepticons and their evil leader, Megatron.
General Marcus and the man in the lab coat picked their way across the gravel to arrive beside the smashed tank. Marcus examined the tank’s bent gun barrel and let out a low whistle. The man in the lab coat turned to face Ironhide, looked up at the robot, and said angrily, “What part of the words end test was unclear to you?”
Ironhide looked away from the man in the lab coat, then returned his gaze to the man’s outraged expression and said, “You talkin’ to me?”
General Marcus moved beside the man in the lab coat and placed a hand on his shoulder as he looked up at Ironhide. “Ironhide, meet Alexander Porter. Mr. Porter—”
“Dr. Porter,” the man snapped.
“My apologies,” General Marcus said soothingly. “Dr. Porter is the president and CEO of Hyperdynamix Laboratories. His laboratory created the prototype you fought tonight.”
Ironhide stepped back and bent down to place his scarred metal face close to Porter’s. “Whatsamatter, Doc?” he boomed. “Afraid I was gonna break your toy?”
Not showing a trace of fear or intimidation, Porter replied sharply, “That toy costs thirty million dollars. Its turret contains sensitive diagnostic equipment that recorded every second of tonight’s test. A missile impact at point-blank range could have destroyed that data. Unless you want to spend every night out here fighting tanks, I suggest that when someone says ‘end test,’ you end the test.”
Ironhide chuckled as he stood up away from Porter. “If you’re so concerned about your precious gadgets, do yourself a favor and send out the next tank with a sign on it that says ‘I surrender.’ ”
Porter’s left eye twitched. “You think I’m joking? I doubt you’d be so amused if our tank had been using fully loaded munitions, or if it had its microwave emitter set to full power, or if its systems had been set on full automatic instead of being operated by remote control. If you’d gone up against all that tonight, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation.” Porter smiled. “In fact, I think you’d be dead.”
Ironhide moved quickly as he took a heavy step toward Porter, prompting the startled man to take a quick step backward. Staring down at Porter, Ironhide said, “Made you flinch.”
Optimus Prime cleared his throat. Ironhide looked away from Porter to see the towering Autobot leader giving him a warning glance.
“Gentlemen,” General Marcus said. “Let’s remember we’re on the same team.”
“Of course,” Porter said. “I apologize if I got carried away. I take my work very seriously.”
“I take my work seriously, too, Doc,” Ironhide said as he casually punched his right hand into his left palm to make a loud clanging noise. “But I accept your apology.” He looked at the ruined tank and added, “Your toy put up a pretty good fight. Any time you’re ready for another round, let me know.”
“Excellent,” General Marcus said. “Well, then, Dr. Porter, let me commend you for an excellent first effort. We all look forward to reviewing the diagnostics and discussing the future direction of your research. I know Hyperdynamix has a lot of work to do before we have an autonomous tank capable of taking on the Decepticons, but it’s clear to me that we’ve taken an important step forward to that goal.”
Porter nodded. “General, you know the United States, and all the nations of our world, can depend on my best efforts, as well as those of every Hyperdynamix employee. We will all do whatever we can to help defeat the Decepticons who have invaded our planet.” Porter gestured to Ironhide and Optimus Prime as he added, “With the help of our Autobot allies, of course.”
“Dr. Porter,” Optimus said, “did you say the prototype tank was operated by remote control?”
Porter nodded distractedly as he turned his attention to his tank. “Yes. That’s what I said.”
Optimus glanced at Marcus, then said, “Who was operating the controls?”
Porter turned to look back at the Army truck. He stuck two fingers into the corners of his mouth and let out a loud whistle. In response, a teenage boy in civilian clothes climbed down from the back of the truck. The boy had a military-grade communications headset perched on his well-groomed blond hair. Facing Dr. Porter, he said, “You didn’t have to whistle so loudly.”
“Allow me to introduce my son, Douglas,” Porter said.
Douglas Porter smiled politely.
“You’re Optimus Prime,” Douglas said. “And you’re Ironhide. It’s an honor to meet you both.”
Douglas extended a hand to Optimus Prime, who touched it with his fingertip in greeting. Ironhide gave him a quick fist bump, carefully calibrating the impact so he wouldn’t shatter the young human’s forearm.
“Your reaction time is amazing, Ironhide,” Douglas said in admiration. “I thought I had you with that first missile. I don’t know how you avoided it.”
“It’s simple math,” Ironhide said with a shrug. “Motion equals survival. If ya stand still, ya get hit!”
Douglas looked at the tank and said, “There’s a bit of latency with the remote control—the time it takes for the tank to respond to the commands. We’ve got the lag time below a third of a second, but we can’t get it any lower. When the tank becomes self-directed and fully automatic, its reaction time will be faster.”
“Faster?” Ironhide sounded faintly disturbed.
Dr. Porter shot a glance at Douglas and said, “The problem wasn’t with the lag time. The problem was the reaction time of the person operating the controls.”
Douglas stood very still and shifted his gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry I disappointed you, sir.”
“You didn’t just disappoint me, Douglas,” Porter said. “You failed me.”
Ironhide looked at Optimus Prime. Optimus said, “Take it easy, Ironhide.”
“Like nuts, I will.” Ironhide trained his eyes on Dr. Porter and said, “You’re a real prince, Doc. I’ll bet you take after your own father.” As the senior Porter’s face went red with a mix of anger and embarrassment, Ironhide reached out to gently nudge Douglas’s shoulder and said, “Pay no attention to your old man, kid. You did just fine. Heck, we might make an Autobot outta you. If you were already fourteen feet tall and made of metal, your club membership would be a done deal.”
Douglas smiled. “Thank you. That compliment means a lot to me, particularly coming from a legend such as yourself.”
General Marcus looked at the teenager and said, “I thought you performed well, too, Douglas, but…” He shook his head, then turned to Dr. Porter. “I still think your son is a bit young to be fighting giant robots.”
Ironhide said, “Too young? What do you mean? Douglas looks like he’s older than Kevin.”
Douglas said, “Kevin?”
Before Ironhide could reply, Optimus Prime interjected, “Kevin is another friend of ours.” Optimus turned to General Marcus and said, “What happens next, General?”
“The technicians are on their way to collect the prototype. Optimus, I have some interesting new satellite data that I think you’ll want to see.” He looked at Dr. Porter and Douglas. “Shall we call it an evening, gentlemen?”
Dr. Porter shook his head. “Our work isn’t done. I want to examine my tank before the technicians arrive, and also make sure they don’t cause any further damage. Douglas will assist me.”
“Very well, Dr. Porter,” General Marcus said. “Congratulations again on such a promising first test.”
The general and his aides climbed back into the truck. As Optimus and Ironhide headed for the junkyard’s exit, Ironhide held out one hand and drummed his knuckles against a series of wrecked cars. He said, “You know anything about the satellite data that Marcus mentioned?”
Optimus shook his head. “We can only assume the data is important.” He surveyed the junkyard thoughtfully. “Dr. Porter’s dedication to his work seems unquestionable. It is unfortunate that he is not as well-behaved as his offspring.”
“Well-behaved? That kid?” Ironhide scoffed. “I thought he was a total suck-up!” He rocked his head back and forth as he mimicked Douglas’s voice and said, “ ‘That compliment means a lot to me, particularly coming from a legend such as yourself.’ Think about it, Optimus. No kid talks like that unless he wants something.”
“Really? And what exactly were you hoping to obtain when you told him he was well on his way to becoming a member of the Autobot club?”
“I just didn’t like the way his father talked to him, and I wanted to mess with his old man’s head. If you ask me, the father’s a jerk and the kid’s a sneak.”
Optimus turned and regarded Ironhide. “Is this hostility an example of your usual antisocial behavior, or does it have to do with the fact that the boy nearly defeated you?”
Ironhide came to a halt. “Aw, boss, how can you say that? No one nearly defeated me! The kid got lucky once!”
“Okay, maybe twice.”
Optimus resumed walking, and Ironhide fell into step beside him. Optimus said, “I shall examine the telemetry with great interest.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, I was taking it easy on him!”
“I’m sure you were,” Optimus said. “And I’m sure you would have done more damage, but you didn’t want to hurt young Mr. Porter’s feelings.”
Excerpted from Transformers Classified: Battle Mountain by Ryder Windham Copyright © 2012 by Ryder Windham. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Posted August 19, 2012
Small silver autobot. Has twin plasma blasters,similar to those of optimus prime and his left arm can also transform into an energy scythe. Has proton disruptor guns, which cause machinary abd enemys to either malfunction or be under his control for a short time. These weapons also allow him to get past cided doors and encryptions, giving him the name Codex. Talkative and compassionate to humans AND earth's abundant flora and fauna, Codex's vehicle form is that of a Silver Edition Corvette.
3 out of 4 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 13, 2012
Is silver with black skulls on his sides. Is about half the size of a big building. He can turn into a svf72 a.k.a the silver god. It is a type of tank. It shoots a ball of blue energy which can at least level a quarter of a city. In his normal form he has two turrets that can pop up from his shoulders. They fire out plasma balls. Which can knock back even a skyscraper a couple feet. They can do barely any damage though. On his head he has a light which he uses to blind other transformers. It is only usuable once. His hand can turn into blades and he has a huge plasma shotgun that he can take out of his back. It causes medium damage and lots of knockback. Guns can pop out from his wrists amd shoot bullets rapidly. He is kinda shy and rarely speaks but most of the time uses his radio.
2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted January 17, 2013
Posted January 10, 2013
Posted January 3, 2013
Posted December 31, 2012
Posted October 6, 2012
Messy black hair, lab coat full of explosives, beatiful goggles on his forehead, and a nuclear bomb strapped to his back.
1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 13, 2012
Blue punchbuggy. Blue and silver autobot. Weapon is a sparkgun, which shoots bullets that electrocute anyone thet touch except Bug herself. Female. A bit of a scaredy-cat.
1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted January 24, 2014
I am a male and one of the most ferocious autobots. I always see things to the bitter end. I am the leader of the dinobots and defeated by my enemy Shockwave. After this battle I don't know where my dinobots are. My weapons are a fiery machete and a double barelled machine gun. My transformation is a t-rex.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted September 14, 2013
I am female. I am an Autobot, but a former Decepticon-sort of like how Wheelie from the movies switched over. Since from the movies Decepticons were big and small, I am sort-of medium. Since I can become a purple bike, I usually have a large kid or small adult riding me, making no Decepticons suspect I am a Cybertronian. I switched over because I didn't want to kill for sport. I can make things switch bodies once every six months. Because of this, I have some tricks up my arm for my human rider Katie Johnson... (fake person I made up. I am Autobot but still a little Decepticon-like. Especially to humans.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 26, 2013
Posted April 9, 2013
I am male. I am a decepticon. I am an expert with all weapons so the weapon I choose may vary depending on the situation. My special ablities are a built in EMP which will cause any kind of machinery to malfunction, so you basicaly can tell when Im nearby. My other ability is cloak, but I cant use EMP or cloak at the same time. My vehicle form is a tank.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 4, 2013
Female im as tall as arcee my powers are fire and lava. My wepins are sowerds. I have ninja skills. Im fast on my feet. I can tell if someone is behide me. I can hear people or other bots or cons when they are coming for me. I can jump really high too. I dont transform in to a car or anything like that but i can fly by using my twin turbow jet pack and i can take it on or off. My colors are darkblue and on my head i have like lighting shapes coming donw like a hair style. I am a ninja too. I have a Gatare that i play music on and sing too. I made my self and autobot nicklace and i can timetravel talk to other autobots or cons. I can send a SOS thibg too. And the nicklace is wepin too its my fire sword. And thats it.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 4, 2013
Posted March 19, 2013
Posted March 9, 2013
Posted April 8, 2013
I am a female. I am a autobot. I am a cybertron ninja. I am fast and sleek. I am as tall as bumblebee. I have two ninja stars and swords. I trained at cybortrons elite guards but then quit to be a ninja. I transform into a purple and white motorcycle. Can go up to 180 mph. Loves nature everything about it. Best friend is ginger.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted February 5, 2013
I WANT TO SEE U MY AUTOBOT'S NAME IS SMOKESCREAM I BET MINE IS BETER MY AUTOBOT IS SOOOOO COOL UR MIND WILL BE BLOWN NOT THAT ITS A THREAT ITS NOT REALY BUT SMOKESCREAM IS SILVER AND BLUE HES A RACE CAR IF U WATCH TRANSFORMERS PRIME U WILL SEE HIM BY
Posted April 10, 2013
Vechial form : Rescue Hummer Ocupation: Medical Officer Weapons : Saw Blade and a mid-ranged canon. Not much for fighting but will when forced to while being good at doing so.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted March 4, 2013
No text was provided for this review.