Epoch:

Dark Wings

By: Joshin Yasha

Beast Wars and all related belong to Hasbro. The story, its original contents and ideas, and any original characters belong to the author and cannot be used or reprinted without the author's permission.

Disclaimer: No money, no rights, no life. I own all original characters unless otherwise specified.

Dedications: Like usual, the story is dedicated to the writers for their excellent work. It's also dedicated to all the voice actors, especially David Sobolov and Campbell Lane, for bringing these wonderful characters (especially my favorites) to life. As well as the writers of Beast Wars, it's also for the people I love in hopes that this will show that one day I can do something better.

Author's notes: Well, it's my original series, revamped for a fourth time, but now with a lot less stereotypes (I hope).

Faking everything, that's what most Cybertronians loathe, along with the knowledge that they have been deceived. One does not go anywhere in life if they deceive others. That was also what Xyston tried not to be: deceptive; being raised nobly among Maximals was something worth living and fighting for. Of course, when your flat mate was a known master of deception, you learned to be paranoid and to pick up tendencies you would not normally have. Even for a Maximal, it was an agonizing life. But, for the flat mate, it was an even deadlier life.

Then again, being among your factory mates was also something held in high esteem; whether his flat mate was a villain in the lowest standard, or a Maximal in the highest regard, a flat mate was a flat mate, and more importantly, this one was his factory mate.

Out of pure ennui he drummed his fist against the door, announcing his arrival. The knocking was not needed, but it was a lot better than walking into the chambers when his flat mate was doing business. He could count the number of times he'd witnessed such dealings, and the number of times on both hands and taloned feet that his factory mate had . . .requested that the dealings had not been reported.

The war had been over for a long time, but that did not mean that the descendants of such could forgo their old ways and ascend to new grounds.

Metal slid against metal, and a motorized gear spun rapidly to open the doorway. His flat mate stood in the doorway, head level but golden blue eyes looking up at him through almost the exact style of helm as his. "Where have you been?" she asked.

Xyston was startled, but he held up the metal case under his arm. "It's our three stellarcycle anniversary of living together. I thought I would get you something," he smiled hopefully, bearing the gift to her as he walked through the doorway.

She glanced over her shoulder, already to the door of her personal chambers, and questioned his motives. "You got me a gift?" She paused, raising her cranium and twisting it towards her shoulder, much as a parrot would. "Why?" she stopped, propping herself up against the framework.

"Because," Xyston smiled, "you're my friend." He walked closer and presented the case to her. She eyed it with suspicion without touching; however, Xyston understood the hint and opened it for her. Two metal, circular objects shown in the light as he picked them up. "They're a, uh, torture device."

His flat mate continued to stare, immobile, at the objects in his hand. "Torture device."

Xyston hesitated a moment, "Right, it's, uh, useful since it has an electric charge. The metal rings have blades on the inside made of adamantium, so they'll cut through arms, legs . . . They expand," he pushed a switch over and the cuff expanded and retracted with the movement. He then held them out to her.

When she offered her hand, he placed the cuffs within her grasp and smiled again. "Happy anniversary, Misery."

"I do not understand Maximal sentiment for trivial dates in history."

"I don't know, either, come to think of it," Xyston gave her the trademark Maximal friendly smile. "I guess it's just tradition and fun. We do stuff for our friends because it makes us feel good."

"Friends . . ." Misery blinked all thoughts away as she continued to stare at the present. "There are no friends among traitors and murderers." She finally glanced at him and found his smile had become null. The light was still in his eyes and face, but the smile was gone.

"Why are there no friends in Decepticon ranks?" he took a seat after he flipped on the switch for his lights and computer.

Misery looked towards the window and then back to the door frame, and she turned her back to him. With just a small acceptance that he was still there, she continued. "Never have friends -not among those born to die. They inevitably let you down."

"Who let you down, Misery?" Xyston laced his fingers together and allowed them to rest on his stomach.

"I fought in the Great War and I had many under my command. When the Autobots came they killed five of those I had sworn to protect. The others were taken as prisoners of war." Misery hesitated.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better side of his judgment.

She turned to face him and a sullen expression made itself home on her features. "You know the saying. Discretion is the better part of valor . . ."

That said, she turned and left him alone, walking into her private chambers and shutting the door.

A few cycles passed as he sat there staring at the empty space. It was then that it occurred to Xyston that Misery had ran when the Autobots had attacked her base. No friends among traitors. She had betrayed them, he deducted, and she had done what any normal Decepticon would do when outnumbered: she had fled. Misery would have rather saved her own hide than those of the ones she called friends.

This was why Misery would not allow herself to have friends. She had let down her friends long ago, so she had distanced herself from anyone that she could end up hurting again. Xyston understood (even though he did not want to believe it) then that she would never want to be his friend, no matter how hard he tried to open the barrier. Of course, if Misery were to allow herself to have friends again, it would be a step closer to recovering and healing past debts.

Despite his daydreaming, Xyston managed to begin typing away on his keyboard. He had a report due for the lab by the next hectacycle, and he was not going to disappoint the other scientists. He typed in a sequence and the screen began rolling with information; it was easy to link up the work computer to his home system, but making sure that everything from his computer did not get copied onto the lab computers was the tricky part. Histories of where Misery had been were still imprinted in the file bases.

He made a note to delete those, later.

Misery was already out of her private chambers when Xyston turned at the noise. She headed for the door, not even acknowledging his presence, but she turned halfway out the door and walked back in to set a large case down next to Xyston. The femme looked at him for a moment, face devoid of emotion, and then she left, this time for good.

The metal was cool to the touch, and so was the weapon inside. A purple and black triple barrel cannon awaited his touch. Hesitant, Xyston picked up the cannon and held it firmly in his grasp. The handle was made for him. He did not like it.

When he threw the cannon back into the case, the lid slammed shut and the purchase tag floated onto the table. Xyston picked up the tag and noticed the quick, red inked handwriting.

No promises.
No vows.
No friends.
No debts.
War is my
ally, thus I
give an aid
in hand of
war. Another
war will come,
sooner or later.


Let us not
face the other
in battle.

The lower levels of Cybertron were dark, wet, and claustrophobic to those who were accustomed to the surface. Misery, on the other hand, had enjoyed the caverns (as the lurkers referred to them) with an unquenchable excitement. She was raised as a warrior and taught to expect everything behind each corner. So, would not it be normal for her to love a home she had known for over ten million years which was the same as her teachings?

Lights flickered and swayed from above while leaks drenched the walls and center of the caverns. There were those who were about, selling minute trinkets and things of grandeur. Of all the venders, the one Misery looked for quite often was not set up in the streets, but located within safe walls.

A purple numeral marked the doorway that Misery wanted. Chimes announced her arrival, and the surly, bulky dealer behind the counter glanced towards her. His one good optic was fixated on a rare stone in his hand. His other microscopic attachment for an optic zoomed in to snare Misery in his sight. "Well, well, what can I do for you this time?"

"I need some adamantium steel -four kilos," she made her way towards the counter and placed three payment cards in his hand. "And twenty plasma charge boxes."

He inspected the credits before storing them into his subspace. "I was beginning to wonder what the extra pay was for." The bot motioned her around the counter and he pressed a switch in the wall. A panel retracted and allowed them entrance.

The room they entered may have appeared small, but that was only illusion created by the large number of ammunition crates that cluttered the floor. Dealer picked up a crate and placed it onto a mobile transporter. "There's your plasma boxes . . . I threw in an extra twenty."

"I only needed twenty."

"Yeah, well, you're my best customer. Besides, these things come in crates of forty." A controller on the back of his hand became lit and he guided the transporter to the next storage room where Misery followed him.

She did not hesitate to thank him when he piled the last bit of adamantium onto the transporter. "It's no problem, gal. So, when do you want to meet me for the shipment?"

"The usual time. Two days from tomorrow evening."

She nodded to him and he smiled back, "Always a pleasure to help a fellow Decepticon." Dealer placed his hands on the transport and gave it an extra shove into another separate chamber.

Misery took her cue, and headed back for the entrance. When she arrived there, she pressed the button on the wall, and the passage way sealed. As Misery was heading for the door, it opened, and a stranger pattered in and closed the door behind him. Misery took quick note that he was blocking her path. "You are in my way."

If he had a face, she could not see it, but from the tone of his deep voice he had to have been smirking. "As you're in mine."

"Move," she ordered, drawing a handgun.

"Now, now, none of that," he raised his hand, palm upward, and narrowed his eyes.

All metal surfaces that were not bolted down began to jitter uncontrollably. Only Misery and the stranger remained untouched. Misery's handgun, on the other hand, flew from her grasp and landed in his. "Magneticus," she narrowed her eyes.

He was a magnetism manipulator. "Indeed," he still held the smirk in his words, "I possess a magnetic field which I can control with no limits."

"What do you want?" she inquired, placing her hands behind her back.

"No, no," he shook his head, "that would be telling. It's not really a matter of what I want, but more a matter of who they want."

"Do not waste my time," she began waving her hand through the air as if trying to disperse him.

"Then whose should I waste? Hm?" approached her, trying to use his size as an intimidation. Misery was unimpressed. "I've heard of you, Misery. I've watched you for a long time."

She cocked her head to the side and kept her face blank of emotion, "What is the matter? Can you not get a girlfriend by other methods?"

This time he laughed. He was smart enough to taunt her from a distance, but not wise enough to know she had an extra weapon ready to pull if it was in need. "Girlfriends mean nothing to me. Boyfriends, on the other hand, are of an interest."

"Whichever way you swing," she guessed he was buying time for something else, and Primus be on her side if she was correct. "Why are you here?"

"I don't understand your question. Elucidate," he narrowed his yellow optics.

"Who sent you to distract me?" she changed the wording, but her hidden meaning was still there.

"As I said before, that would be telling, now, wouldn't it?" he glanced at her arm which was still behind her back. "What are you hiding from me?"

She shook her head. "Evasive."

"Thanks for noticing," he smiled, and drew closer to her. It took him a moment to focus and sort what had happened. The gaping hole was the first thing on his list, and then followed by the heavy amount of pain. Misery's arm was straight in line with the hole in his chest. His eyes fell into focus on the second handgun, and then his optics began to short. "Smelt . . ."

The body fell quite silently, and Misery reclaimed her first handgun from him. She did a quick check and was pleased to find that his magnetic power had not damaged it in any way. Sliding his body from the doorway, she holstered her weapons and made her exit.

This stranger's presence did not ease her mind, nor did the fact that Dealer had given her a gift and she had left a mess for him to clean up. No debts. Unfortunately, she could not ponder on the small things. This stranger had been sent to distract her for a reason.

Trickles of liquid dripped on her shoulders as she passed through a cavern that had cracks in the ceiling. It did nothing to distract her, but did give her an analogy. 'One small crack can lead to bigger leaks.' And it was then that her analogy gave her another idea.

She took off in full run, not caring for who she knocked out of her way. Time was precious if she was correct, and most certainly, she was. The puddles did little to stop her aside from a few slides here and there, but the main problem lied in how thick the crowds were beginning to get.

"Move!" she ordered as bots moved in front of her, trying to make their way through the tunnels. "I said move!" she screamed again, trying desperately to reach her destination. Misery slammed into a larger bot that refused to make way for her. Her momentum and size forced them both to go rolling through the crowd.

"Hey, you lousy witch! I was walking here!" he yelled at her, keeping a firm grip on her wrist. "Didn't anyone teach you no manners?"

She drew her weapon and held it point blank to his face. "Unless you wish to be searching this crowd for your head you will let go of me," she accented her last words and he complied, raising his hands up in defense. Misery narrowed her golden blue optics and made the quick comparison. Stranger and Blocker both looked alike.

It was definitely not a coincidence. She shot his head clean from his body.

The crowd roared in fear and scattered in all directions. Misery raised her gun high and fired a large chunk from the ceiling. "Anyone who does not wish to get hurt will clear a path," she commanded. Leave it to the group of fearful bots and femmes to make it more hectic.

As the crowd parted for her, Misery stepped forward and left the headless bot to tumble across the street after his cranium. At the commotion, two Security Patrols exited the doorway of a nearby tavern. "Drop your weapon!" one of them ordered, drawing his own.

He and his partner had just enough time to dive for cover as the top of the doorframe rained down on them. "Slag!" the other muttered, spitting out dust and drawing his railgun.

Misery's taloned foot pinned his weapon to the ground. "I am in no mood. You are in no mood. Let us leave it," she drew her foot back and kicked his weapon away into the drain. She felt the urge to cringe as a shot narrowly missed her own head. Warning shot, she deduced. "Put your weapon down, or I promise the next shot will not miss," she said. No promises.

"Put yours down," he ordered, using both hands to keep his weapon trained on her.

Turning her entire body to face him, she scowled and jumped to the air just as he fired. Her body shifted and contorted until her form became a space mobile craft. Misery had no time to spare, and she knew it. Time was turning against her and she knew she had to be right.

Her space craft form maneuvered swiftly through the caverns until she reached the smaller tunnels that forced her to transform back to robot. When she landed was another matter; the leakage here was worse, so it caused her to fall on her skidplate and tumble down the stairwell.

She hit bottom with a solid crash into the wall and it took cycles before Misery remembered what she was after. Jumping back to her feet, she grabbed a bar for support. 'One small crack can lead to bigger leaks.' The femme carefully used the bar to help herself across the slick tarmac.

Her feet slipped out from under her and she lost her grip on the bar. Instead of letting this trivial thing defeat her, she did one of the most degrading things she knew and crawled for the higher platforms. It was despicable, and she loathed every moment of the experience. Her, a Decepticon, crawling, it was unheard of.

Once she was out of the deep liquid, she swung herself up and latched her feet onto the support beams. Using the ceiling, she hovered over the leakage until she had reached a dry section to drop down onto. It was then that she continued in her run.

When Misery reached the second stairwell, she was ready to avoid the leaks that had already drenched the stairwell. She took a quick jump, spread her legs, and landed on the pole handles on either side and slid all the way down. As she reached the bottom, she pulled her legs together and landed perfectly straight in a small puddle. This time she did not tumble, however.

She continued down the long corridor, halting whenever she reached the doorway she wanted. Misery punched the code and blinked in relief when she saw the room was orderly and in good keep. Not only that, but Xyston glanced up at her and gave her a puzzled look.

Misery draped herself against the doorframe, breathing heavily and giving slow blinks as she tried to slow her sparkbeat. "What's wrong?" the larger bot inquired, raising from his desk of scattered reports.

She still continued to breath heavily, but she cut herself off when the expected happened. Xyston dropped to his knees in time to catch her. Sparks flew from her back, a large singe covering most of it. "Thanks for the help," six bots entered the room and had their weapons trained on the two.

"Toooooo bad you're friend couldn't stay away," the leader smirked and fired another shot.

Xyston, not having much training in the fighting department, ducked behind his desk and he carried Misery with him. He glanced down and noted that she was recovering slowly. "What's going on?" he whispered to her as gun fire rained over their heads and into his desk.

Misery looked up at him, pain searing through her backside with every movement she made. "I was hoping you would know . . . They are after you . . ." She tried to make it onto her knees, but the gunfire and the pain kept her down. "You will have to help me. I cannot fight them like this."

He nodded and understood fully. Xyston reached underneath his desk and pulled out the case she had given him earlier. "Will this be enough?"

"For once I do not know," she drew both her handguns, agonizing in pain with even the smallest movement. "It is loaded with twenty-seven rounds. Let us hope you can knock them down with three."

"Misery . . ." he whispered.

She looked up into his eyes and understood. "Yes, we are friends." Misery regretted it the moment she had acknowledged. No friends. She had broken three rules in one day that had taken her years to make. "Release the safety and shoot," she ordered.

Xyston did as told. When there was a gap in the gunfire, Xyston stood on his knees briefly and fired three rounds. The missiles surged towards the six bots and two connected with the walls while the third hit one of them in the shoulder. The blast was enough to kill him. Concussion missiles had that effect on bots.

After the missiles had exploded, however, the ceiling had began to cave in and the shrapnel ensnared a second enemy, knocking him to the floor. The leader turned, anger flashing across his face as he fired another shot towards the two flat mates. This time, the shot clipped Xyston's arm and he went down spinning.

The bot looked to his friend and she nodded. It was her turn, now, and she intended to make him pay for that one. With the pain still running through her back, but dulling to a steady hum, she rose and fired six shots towards the leader.

The leader ducked in time, the poor bot behind him was another matter. The bot's optics widened as far as allowed and jerked his body backwards as the shots connected with his upper body and face. He was dead before he hit the ground. Misery and Xyston ducked back under the desk as group retaliated for their two fallen.

Just as soon as the fight had begun, the silence ran thick. Xyston and Misery, now both in worse shape than before, stayed low to the ground and clutched their weapons. "Are they gone?" he whispered to her. Misery, who was in the better position to look, raised her head slowly and glanced out at the room. It was empty except for the new rubble, and she nodded her head to him.

They both climbed to their feet, pain and mechfluid running freely between them. The two surveyed the chamber and it was Misery who noticed the small package they had left. "Xyston, run."

It was too late. The package exploded and the shockwave knocked them both into the walls. The ceiling rained down on them from the force, and they were lucky the rest of the cavern did not fall on their heads. After all that work they had done to save themselves, the shockwave had gotten the better of them.

Their backs were embedded into the remains of the walls, and after several nanoclicks, they both slipped and dropped to their knees. Xyston, who had been closer to the bomb, was now more damaged than he had been, and he was nearing stasis lock.

"Heh, heh, hee! Look at how quick they fall," the four surviving bots stalked back into the room. The leader looked between the two. "Pick that up," he pointed to Xyston and two of his goons approached the fallen scientist.

"You . . ." Misery made it slowly to her feet. "You will not . . . touch him . . ." Her final movements were enough to make her strength give out. She dropped back to her knees and white noise filled her audios.

It was that point in time where everything slows down and it seems one would have all the time in the world to do anything, and yet they cannot possibly move. Misery had all the time she needed to raise her gun and fire at her enemies, but it was that heavy gravity that held her still.

She locked her eyes with Xyston, and what needed to be said was already understood. If either one survived, they would vow to avenge the other. No vows. It was amazing how she could break all her rules in one day.

That was when the black took her. That was when the last actions became the most prominent memories to repeat in her mind. That was when she dropped into the rubble and her enemies left her for dead. That was when she died to the world.