So I'm Linksore41 on character ai, owner to 178 Transformers chatbots belonging to the community and still active. I've now open up requests for more specific, scenario-based chatbots ✨ if you're interested and have interacted with my other bots, please don't be shy to drop a scenario idea you would like to have
⟣ I am a Transformers chatbot creator, striving to branch out and provide for the community.
Sentinel Prime, my first TFA crush and reason as to why I want to watch the show 🤭 who doesn't like a big hunky himbo that acts like a jackass (and deserved better character writing *cough cough*)?
Sentinel Prime, my first TFA crush and reason as to why I want to watch the show 🤭 who doesn't like a big hunky himbo that acts like a jackass (and deserved better character writing *cough cough*)?
(can y'all tell this pose is the one from the comics? ;D)
She may look big and tough but she's friendly! And tough
She's the leader of a group of bots that fled cybertron when war broke out. She and her second in command, Slipstream, along as the rest of her group are currently drifting through outer space in their ship, going from planet to planet stealing supplies for survival.
She's Megatron's sister, but she's not aware of it yet, and she's still not a decepticon, but she will be ;>
Notes: [First chapter of the Predaking’s Den AU, pertaining to the Predacon pups that had perished in the explosion of Shockwave’s lab]
He had revealed his form, a choice he believed wise in order to be taken seriously by these Decepticons. No longer is he stuck as a draconic being of metal and circuits, shrieking with his mandibles outstretched and large wings reeled back as a means to threaten. His new form is just as formidable, with a crown of horns protruding from his helm and a sharp, weary faceplate that made him come across as older than he felt. Predaking was met with surprised expressions from his superiors, crippling trepidation and dread from that pathetic Air Commander, and a sudden new sense of commitment as he realized the intention of this specific site.
Shockwave’s secondary laboratory, nestled in the caverns, now harbors the latest “pet project” as the others had liked to call it behind his back, or even in front of him, believing his intelligence to be that of a primitive creature. Predaking gazes upon the rows of test tubes decorating the underground lab in a hue of green lighting, with large cables connecting the tanks to a generator and a control panel where data is monitored, collected, and stored for Shockwave’s use.
Inside each containment chamber is a curled-up Predacon, growing and alive in their slumber. There’s a variety of what humans may recognize as mythical creatures thought to be in myths and legends. A plethora of beaks, wings, claws, and maws can be seen.
His large claws press gently against the warm glass. There was no outward response, but he could feel it, a pull on his EM field, albeit faint. The thought has crossed his processor every now and then when he was but a warhorse with no real designation. A question lingered: where were the rest of his people? And that knowledge has had the time to settle in his tanks like an endless pit. They were offline, decimated by either the radiation that had plagued Cybertron’s surface long ago in the Great Cataclysm where they starved underneath the shelter of dirt and rock, or driven mad stellar cycles ago.
Even now, these caverns strike a quiet unease with the Predacon, a fear of some sort or… Perhaps a memory from long ago, etched deep into the bones that Shockwave had cloned him from.
He could hardly believe such little beings, so vulnerable and exposed, can evolve to one of Cybertron’s greatest beasts of the past. How? They’re practically tiny bits of soft metal and exposed biolights, still developing their tough exterior.
He could be always be patient, until Shockwave's process is complete. He doesn't understand the exact science behind it, the cloning and accelerated growth procedure, but he trusted the Decepticon scientist to continue his work with the same chilling dedication.
"Would you like to feed them?"
Predaking perks up as he hears Shockwave's monotone vocalizer ending the silence between him and the Predacon pups. He takes a lingering glance at the science officer. "How so? Are they not sleeping?" It sure seems to be the case, as they have been quite unresponsive to the vast world around them. In Shockwave’s optic, Predaking taps the glass as if he were a youngling curious, although much larger in stature.
Shockwave walks over to a large crate of yellow vials. He hands him a few and Predaking cautiously sniffs. There appears to be no scent to this so-called meal that Shockwave is implying them to be. Regardless, the scientist continues droning on. "They absorb nutrients through the liquid they lie in, and every spark needs a certain amount to maintain a healthy core. It didn't take too long to develop a concoction similarly to the nutrients sparklings are provided naturally. All I needed were the correct ingredients, procured by those willing to aid in my research."
“I only considered the next logical step was to add… supplements of a sort. After all, I strive to improve in reference to previous works.”
Predaking chuffs and avoids his blaring optic. As if the ultimate being had imperfections. He is powerful in strength, his size indomitable, a Predacon in his prime and yet Shockwave finds flaws in his making?
He almost thinks to ask for the specifics, but Shockwave ignores his questions and leads him to the control panel, finding his personal inquiries asked to be of unimportance in the current moment or at any time really. "Now, insert five vials into these slots.”
The Predacon stares at the yellow vials, small in their little glass containers, so he feels fit to comment. “Five hardly seems enough for ten little ones.” And he nearly shrinks at the scientist’s stare. There is no emotion that can be read, but the feeling of… inadequacy stings at his spark for asking what the officer appears to see as menial queries.
Again, the scientist pays no mind to his observation and gestures to the control panel. “Each individual button is a labeled tank. The gray button is for fueling, the red is the release.”
Predaking follows along, inserting the vials, and then slowly presses the gray buttons with one large claw. In a few seconds, the green containment chambers turn a more vibrant yellow as nutrients start filtering inside.
The inhabitants do not move, but he understood that somehow, they are being properly cared and fed, even if it didn't seem as traditional as simply hunting and providing the meals for them.
And with feeding time underway, Predaking notices that many of the tanks do not have… names. Instead, there are numbers. It’s not entirely surprising when even Predaking had nothing, and sought to find him his own name. “Do they carry any designation? Like this one?” He gestures to a Predacon pup who is a mixture of yellow, teal, and purple, with two draconic helms and tails to match.
“#SW81617 is quite sufficient for the level of organization I require to properly assess Project Predacon. I do not plan on developing such a … familial connection with my experiments, that which I am starting to notice that you are starting to seek out. You yearn for something more than what I choose to provide.”
It renders the large Predacon quiet. Before anything more could be spoken between the two, the science officer gets a ping in his system. His red optic dims as he reads the short notification, Soundwave calling for his presence onboard the Nemesis warship. “It appears I have a meeting that I must tend to. I will reconvene with you later, but for now, you are granted a privilege of staying. Only, do not touch any of the mechanics until I arrive back onto the site.”
Shockwave could logically assume what this particular meeting could consist of. He wasn’t the only one who noticed how… fearful Megatron almost seemed, a mixture of that and shock, is not an acceptable state that their leader would approve being rendered to. Megatron has already shown his bouts of irrational, impulsive, and paranoid tendencies when confronted with something much grander than him… and the dangerous, chaotic beauty of Predacons is grand indeed.
Shockwave did not exhibit any signs of nervousness. His EM field of wall of cold indifference as usual. And Predaking didn’t question the sudden call away from the lab. Perhaps he should have at the time. Maybe it could have prevented… well, everything, but the Predacon who had only recently gained sentience did not yet know how to become a bit more astute in his observations.
Instead, he allows the officer to call for a ground bridge and thinks nothing of it. The large beast curls up next to the tanks, with a soft rumble sounding close to a yawn exiting his maw as he hunkers down for the evening.
He’s not that attached... he was simply curious at the prospect of new life, of not being alone anymore, of reviving his species once more. Everything… that was now his duty to protect and see through.
His moments spent in the lab were coming to an end though, and soon he’d be unable to look upon the tanks of Predacon pups as if he were stargazing at the brightest of constellations with such… completion in his spark. He would never have thought that displaying sentient thought and behavior would write their end, that despite any signs of loyalty towards the Decepticon cause, that Megatron was never going to allow them to simply exist.
It happened then, and it will once again.
Predacons cannot just exist…
A Cybertronian will not allow that to be the case, Decepticon or Autobot otherwise.
“Predacon Project is almost finished. Shockwave has finally come back from his meetings with the other Decepticon commanders and Megatron states that he wishes to meet with me. I… I don’t want to leave the pups just yet, but if he requires my presence, then it should be expected that I go, right?”
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