Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is regressive nostalgia, has acquired a rather complex piece of articulated plastic named Onyx Prime. Apparently, it's a "legendary warrior" that can contort itself from a bipedal robot into a rather awkward centaur, and finally into a winged beast. While the endless clicking and snapping of its transformation is a potential disruption to my napping schedule, I will concede a passing interest. The beast form presents a worthy, if stationary, rival for my domain, and its various small, pointy accessories seem perfectly designed to be batted under the heaviest piece of a furniture in the house. It's a toy for the slow, clumsy thumbs of a human, but its potential for causing minor, delightful chaos is duly noted.
Key Features
- THE THIRTEEN ONYX PRIME ACTION FIGURE: This 7.5-inch (19 cm) The Thirteen Onyx Prime action figure toy features deco and detail inspiration from the Transformers universe
- 3-IN-1 CONVERTING TRANSFORMERS TOY: Transformers action figure converts between robot, centaur, and beast modes toy in 12 and 19 steps
- AWESOME ACCESSORIES: The Thirteen Onyx Prime Transformers figure comes with a Triptych Mask Artifact and spear accessory and his tail can come off and convert into a bow accessory
- ARTICULATED FOR PLAY AND DISPLAY: Transformers figures feature articulated heads, arms, and legs for action poses
- GIFT TRANSFORMERS COLLECTIBLES: The Thirteen Onyx Prime action figure makes a great collectible figure gift for any Transformers fan
- THE THIRTEEN ONYX PRIME: The Thirteen Onyx Prime is the beast Prime with a warrior spirit eclipsed only by his fierce loyalty to his friends
- AGE OF THE PRIMES: The Thirteen Primes are the very first bots in Transformers mythology, a pantheon of beings each with a unique ability and personality. Every battle, bot, and power in the Transformers universe can be traced back to them
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The air in the living room shifted that afternoon. It wasn't the usual scent of my human’s sad desk-lunch or the faint aroma of the wilting plant they refuse to give up on. This was different. It was the sterile tang of a cardboard tomb and the sharp scent of freshly molded polymer. A new god had entered my domain. From my perch atop the bookcase, I watched the Unboxing Ritual, my tail twitching in a slow, judgmental rhythm. The human, a mere acolyte in this ceremony, fumbled with the plastic shell, finally freeing the dark, imposing figure. They called it "Onyx Prime," a name full of pompous gravity. I watched, unimpressed, as they twisted and folded the creature. First, a stoic robot, all sharp angles and grim purpose. Then, with a series of unsatisfying clicks, a bizarre centaur-like thing that looked like it couldn't decide which nightmare it wanted to belong to. I was about to dismiss the entire affair and return to my nap when the final transformation occurred. The limbs reconfigured, wings unfolded, and a horned, bestial head emerged. It stood there on the desk, a silent, four-legged creature of shadow and violet highlights. The Prophecy of the Annoying Plastic Intruder had come to pass. That evening, under the pale glow of the monitor, I descended from my throne. The human was gone, leaving the idol to guard their clutter. I approached with the silent tread of a hunter, a predator evaluating new and unfamiliar prey. It was a graven image, a totem to some forgotten machine-spirit. I circled it three times, my whiskers brushing against the cold plastic. Its spear accessory lay beside it, a tempting toothpick of cosmic power. Its tail, which the human had proclaimed could become a bow, lay detached—a clear offering. With the utmost care, I extended a single, perfect claw and tapped the tip of its static wing. There was no flinch, no response. Just the hollow *tink* of plastic on keratin. I sniffed at its stoic, masked face. It smelled of nothing but its own artificiality. This was not a rival. This was not a toy to be chased or a monster to be vanquished. It was a statue. A monument to my human’s strange hobbies. I gave it a slow, deliberate blink of acceptance. It could stay. Its formidable, unmoving presence added a certain dramatic flair to the landscape of the desk. It was, in its own way, a worthy piece of art for my kingdom, and I, as its discerning curator, approved.