The Quintesson Wars: the Iacon Blitz, Part I
When an enemy announced its intention to destroy you as plainly as the quintessons had done, it was imperative that you destroyed them first.
Currently, the Thirteen were failing in that regard, a reality all too apparent to each of them as they picked themselves up out of the rubble that had only recently ceased to be the Decagon plaza. The twelve-sided courtyard was now a black crater, smoldering in places and littered with twisted metal shards from the building around it… and many of the cybertronians who had been caught in the blast.
Prima swore to himself that the lost sparks would be avenged as he stood among his compatriots, his left arm raised to hold a triangular golden shield to the sky, which was hidden by thick smoke. The Skyboom Shield, a gift to him made by Solus Prime, projected an electric-blue barrier around himself and the other Primes, protecting them from the worst of the quintesson’s strike. It had to be the quintessons, Prima knew; Cybertron’s other enemies were dead, by his hand and those of his fellow demigods. And now these extradimensional invaders would be joining them.
“Well, that was fast,” Liege Maximo groaned as he shoved a girder off of his abdomen with his good arm- the quintessons had attacked the Chronon shortly after delivering their grandiose threats, and he hadn’t survived the assault unscathed before the invaders disappeared from the Benzuli Expanse in a flash of light. “It looks like we don’t have to wait for them to rear their heads again after all.”
“And they will not live to regret it,” Megatronus growled, rising to his feet. He offered Solus Prime his hand, and when she took it he effortlessly pulled her out of a mound of wreckage. Her dull grey armor was scuffed and blackened in places, but from the look in her violet eyes, one could tell she intended to inflict far worse upon her aggressors.
“Is everyone alright?” she asked, hefting a massive gold hammer. She was no doctor, but ironically a good whack from the Forge would mend any injuries her friends had sustained. The other Primes helped each other up, with none suffering anything beyond a few dents and scratched paint. Alchemist Prime quietly remarked that he’d now owe Prima yet another drink.
The Thirteen’s commlinks crackled with static before a frantic voice broke through: Claymore, one of the twelve bots who led the Knights of Cybertron.
“My lords!” he shouted through the feed, “My lords, I have dispatched a team to the Decagon to see to you- please respond!”
“We’re fine, Claymore,” Prima assured the knight, lowering the Skyboom Shield. The dome of energy around the Primes vanished. “None the worse for wear. What’s happening outside?”
“It’s the quintessons, lord Prima,” Claymore reported, his worry quickly subsiding. “A ship, like the one lord Vector Prime described to us has appeared over the city in a flash of green. It’s done nothing since attacking the Decagon; we’re evacuating civilians to the underground shelters now.”
“Fine work, my friend,” Prima replied. “Recall your rescue team and have them see to the evacuations instead. Gather the rest of the council and come to me!”
Claymore acknowledged the order with a proud “seglass ni tonday”, the rallying cry of the Knights of Cybertron, before ending the communication. Alchemist raised a hand, the glyphs on its armor flashing white to summon a gust of wind that blew the smoke over the plaza away. Imposed against Cybertron’s setting sun was the quintesson’s ship: the black spire, marbled with beady red lights that glared down at the Primes and topped with a mushroom-like hood adorned with three crimson spotlights. There was no mistaking it for anything but the same ship that had crippled the Chronon and eluded Megatronus’s fleet, now having somehow slipped past Cybertron’s orbital defenses to loom ominously above Iacon’s golden towers. The Thirteen felt its gaze boring down upon them.
“People of Iacon,” a rumbling voice boomed like thunder over the city, and Megatronus, Liege, and Vector recognized it as one of the five they’d heard during their attempt to commune with the quintessons back at the Expanse.
“The Imperium of Cybertron is now under the jurisdiction of the quintessons,” the voice continued. “We demand your compliance. Disobedience will not be tolerated.”
“Resistance to our occupation is futile; any attempt at such will be soundly rebuked,” the feminine voice now added. “All military forces are to stand down and surrender themselves to us immediately.”
Claymore comes onto the commlink again.
“Am I to assume we’ll be disregarding their demands, my lords?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Prima’s white metallic skin shone in the evening sunlight; the Warrior of Light looked less like a robot and more like a set of ornate armor worn by primitive human warriors, held upright by a spirit inside that now burned like a roaring blue flame. He reached over his shoulder and drew the Star Saber, the massive great sword bequeathed to him by Primus himself, and its silver blade hummed as it turned a dazzling blue.
He looked up at the quintesson ship: the arrogant new foe that presumed to judge the fate of an entire universe. Its three largest eyes stared back, daring the Primes and their people to strike at them.
Prima flicked his wrist. The Star Saber chopped through air and sent a band of cosmic energy surging forth from its blade. It leapt up and struck the dark obelisk in the sky, and a line of its red lights burst in a sequence of explosions that popped like fireworks. And that was all the answer that both the people of Iacon and the quintessons needed.
…
Prima’s reaction consistent with permutations of Instance 353-23535475. Commence pacification of Iacon.
…
As debris fell from the gash cut into the quintesson ship, the alien vessel began to launch scores of black projectiles from batteries all over its spire. These obsidian orbs rocketed down toward Iacon’s streets, crashing into parks and buildings across the city. Alarms began to wail above the shattering of glass and the shrieking of tearing metal, and behind Prima the rest of the Thirteen drew their weapons.
Walking to the edge of the crater, Prima saw that fifteen of the black spheres had landed on a road beneath the Decagon. They clicked and hissed, unfolding to reveal hideous creatures with hunched bodies supported by long serpentine tails, clad in matte green armor and each sporting a multitude of robotic tentacles tipped with tiny claws. The quintessons looked up at Prima and opened their draconic snouts, revealing a smaller head between their jaws that rotated between five mechanical faces. Most settled for a red and orange visage frozen in a permanent scream of rage, and loosed shrill battle cries at the Warrior of Light. Prima’s aura flared around him as he brought the Star Saber to bear, and he looked back to see his fellow Primes standing close behind him, ready to fight together once again.
Prima turned his gaze back to the quintessons, and with a righteous shout he jumped down to face them.
“Soon” meant two days this time, as it turned out. Hope that was enjoyable, and as always, any comments and constructive criticism will be appreciated.