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: Second series! Woot! I'm surprised I've made it this far ^_^ So, same news as before, pretty much the same characters as well as some new ones. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce: Omicron!

The Promise

Joshin Yasha (joshinyasha@yahoo.com)

Cybershark glared from the doorway towards the object of his obsession. It was setting right there, gleaming to him in all its majesty, but as soon as Cybershark made for Depth Charge's chair, the door opened behind him and he found himself smacked out of the way as the chief of security stomped in, followed closely by the Air twins and Misery.

Depth Charge took his seat and looked out amidst those in his office. "Oh, hey, Cyba. Anyway," his expression returned to the hard contemplative features. He was still sure that Misery wasn't telling him everything, but he was going to have to deal with what she had given to him. "So we're looking for a warrior class bot or con, and there's nothing else that Misery can figure out?"

His comment had been meant to incite a response from the female against the wall, but her expressionless face left him wondering if she had even heard him. He knew better, of course, to think that she had not heard him, but Depth Charge knew, watching how the subtle movement of her pauldrons raised as Misery took a breath and how her golden-hued red optics narrowed slightly at his words, but it was the sound of her communicator that drew her attention towards the group. "Excuse me," she spoke, and it was moments later when Depth Charge realized she had left his office. He was half tempted to have Jazz³ hack her commlink, but knowing her would have caught on before the slice had even been made.

Instead, he allowed her to leave his presence.

She had not immediately answered, but instead had waited until she was clear of the Omicron control tower and gone down several levels to be underneath the layers of metal that would help run interference for any communications. Instead of answering the call then, Misery gave herself more protection by finding the tunnel that led to her temporary home away from Home located in Ward 13.

"About time you got here," Stricture stood from his seat on her berth, weight shifting to his left as the female Decepticon sauntered into the room. "I was wondering if you were going to answer your comm. or not."

"Never mind that," she checked around the room, only spotting Taciturn hiding in the darkness, red optics fading into the mix with the dim ruby lighting around the east wall. He was keeping guard. Good. "Depth Charge already has suspicions."

"Oh? So you liked our work on that group of smugglers, eh?" Stricture's smile faded from his face. "What?"

"Your bombs," she cast a turned optic towards Taciturn, "did not go off as planned. There were three bodies recovered with what I would define as minimal damage to their shells. Once the bodies are identified and their connections traced, it will only be a matter of time before they put figure us out."

"Oh, come on!" Stricture slumped back onto the berth, settling his chin into his hands. "By the time those Maximals figure out what's going on we'll be long gone." 'And they'll be dead' was his implied after statement, but he was more intelligent than to let something like that slip when he could be overheard.

"And there is the snitch in your thoughts. These are not Maximals we are dealing with; they are all Autobot ascended, as well as Shockwave's grand-sired. She will not be a problem, it is that Air Raid's accursed sireds that will be the problem."

Taciturn stood up, his form taking shape from the darkness, and as he now stood beside his captain, his voice was dark and precise. "I shall melt those two myself for what their sire did to us! They shall burn." It was not uncommon knowledge that it had been Air Raid who had tipped the war in the favour of the Autobots, and through him, the inevitable victory brought down over the Decepticons. It was only natural that Taciturn would be angry, as was Stricture, but strangely enough Misery was deadly calm. In her mind, the plan would still go about as scheduled.

"Then you shall have to request that privilege at a later time, ma lance-flammes, for now we must continue with our plans." Misery lurched forward, grabbing hold of the edge of the berth and then lay across Stricture's legs, resting comfortably. "Where is the information from the smugglers, ma paresse . . . ?"

The blue and silver Decepticon shuddered, lips parting and breath easing out slowly. "The spider collected it from the leader of those smugglers. It appears that there's a speakeasy in Ward Eight that dealings go through. Anything that would lead us to Xyston would go through there."

Misery was silent before resting her helm against her gauntlets, "There is no doubt in my mind that those Maximals are not just holding him captive, for if he were just a prisoner he would have alleviated himself from his cell and returned to us by now."

The red and black Decepticon knelt down next to his captain and wingmate, chin resting against the backs of his gauntlets so that his face was next to Misery's. "Do you think . . . Do you think that they . . . ?"

"Could be using him for experimental purposes while holding him?" she finished for her pyromaniac wingmate. "It is plausible, nigh the best theory we have thus far." Misery rolled over and sat up between the two male Decepticons, hand cupping her chin in thought. "I want you to focus your search on smuggled scientific equipment and weaponry. We should be able to narrow the probabilities of where Xyston could be located."

"As you command," Stricture bowed to the female as Taciturn tipped his head up towards the female. With that said, the two male Decepticons left their captain and headed out for Ward Eight without further instruction. Once they had parted from her sight, she knew that they would not be seen until their next arranged meeting. Subterfuge at its best, perhaps.

Misery sighed, leaning back with her hands cupping her face in exasperation. Taking another deep breath, she exhaled and cast her right gauntlet out before herself. The black and blue female could feel the magnets within her hand activate and take hold of the switches across the room. Within moments, the line of lights along the east wall became alive with ruby, sapphire, and amethyst colours.

Rhyton's stasis locked form hung crucified from bonds anchored into the wall. After taking to her feet and stepping silently across the floor, she pulled a primitive rail spike from the wall and looked it over. "You are fortunate that I have not chosen to end your objectionable existence," she closed her red optics once more and sat the spike back into the wall with her magneticus. "My plans for you are greater than just a simple killing."

Smiling, she then waved her gauntlet once more, ruby, sapphire, and then amethyst, the same order they had alit from on the circuit had now dimmed. Misery was once more exhausted, feeling the stress of nine days without recharge. Despite being immortal now, she was still under a mental province to rest on a regular schedule, lest the Decepticon female tip the ever watchful optics of the Predacon spawn off with her new abilities.

Misery stepped outside her temporary flat, taloned feet tapping the checkered design of the floor panels. She was alerted to his presence before she even stepped through the archway and into the main hallway of the apartments, "Taking to spying now?"

"Whatever works best, pretty," he held his gaze towards the wall with gunblade in hand and pointed at the Decepticon female, his massive wingspan hiding his weapon from onlookers. "Ya planning on telling me what you're up to?"

"Not particularly," said Misery, inspecting the tips of her dactyls idly. "Whatever did you hear, lovely boy?" Her smirk was confident enough to tell him that she did in fact know that the walls were too thick for standard hearing, and listening equipment would have alerted the three Decepticons before anything would have been said.

"I'm not in the mood to play games, Misery." Depth Charge turned, facing her completely now, and dropped his weapon back into place on his hind side. Sighing inwardly, the blue and purple bot closed his ruby optics, took a much needed breath, and then opened his optics. "We have a meeting with the Patriarch. He's most insistent about information on this latest bombing, and I wanna know what you're not telling me before we go to see him."

Misery twisted her helm to the left, glaring at him through the corner of her optics as if regarding him as some sort of infectious disease. "I am not hiding anything, and I shall not be a beck and call for some Council bedfellow."

She was instantly taken aback when Depth Charge wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to hers, but when she felt his fingers interlace with hers, connection cables attaching to allow for private conversation, she immediately relaxed. It was far beyond personal for her, but she allowed him to say what he needed. /Careful what you say about the Patriarch in public, Misery. I may not like him much either, but too many people have ended up missing for even displeasing him./

\I see,\ she closed her optics, wrapping her free hand around his helm and pressing her mouth more forcefully to his, giving a much needed show for those passing the corridor every minute of their conversation. \You brought me here to eliminate this Patriarch. You anticipate with horror that he will find out that you have been rebuilt from your old form into a Decepticon designed shell. You fear that they will know of your past and then begin to investigate those involved.\

/That's not the only thing I'm worried about, Miz, and you know it,/ Depth Charge surfaced from the kiss just long enough to cup the side of her face with his free hand, returning once more to the frozen endearment she offered. /Where's your lover Xyston?/

She would have laughed if their public situation had been private. \That is no worries of yours, I assure you. Xyston is where he needs to be for now,\ Misery licked at her lips, and in turn slid her glossa across his. \You need not worry yourself with such trivial details, lovely pet.\

/He's here, isn't he, Misery? You brought Xyston here, didn't you?/

\I know not if he is here, precious pet. It is too soon in the scheme to be sure.\

Depth Charge was silent a moment, before drawing away from her. The connection cables withdrew from both their hands, returning to the confines of their shells. The chief of security was placated with the answer she had given him; at least one of the questions that had been running through his cranium was finally answered. Only problem was that if Misery did not know where Xyston was, Depth Charge cringed, then the Autobot killer could very easily be anywhere watching them now. His voice was eerily calm when noise parted his lips, "We better go meet with the Patriarch now. Then we are going to talk later."

The placard decorating the door revealed the room to be 403. The room belonged to Patriarch Esoteric, ambassador of Omicron, and just all around pain in the ass. Only the mix of soft ruby, sapphire, amethyst and white light accented the conference room. Thus far, Depth Charge, Cybershark, Jazz³, and Misery were the only occupants as they awaited the arrival of Patriarch Esoteric with only the bare minimum being said between the four.

Finally after Jazz³'s umpteenth chorus of Sleepy Hollow (to which Cybershark was laughing most for the ominous feel of the song rather than his knowledge of the Terran song) and a glare from both Misery and Depth Charge, Patriarch Esoteric finally made his (not so) grand entrance through the doors escorted by six heavily armed guards. His blue optics swept the room and bored down upon Depth Charge when the four officers remained seated. "Your insubordination is hereby noted, Depth Charge," the ambassador hissed.

"Right now, Esoteric, I could really care less. We've been kept waiting for over three megacycles--time that we could have been using to perform our searches, and yet we've been waiting for you--and forced to listen to Primus knows how many choruses of Jazz's songs. So, please, you're welcome to make me more angry that I am already."

"Insolent quisling! I demand respect!" Patriarch Esoteric would have jumped over the table to lash out at the chief of security, but instead his two front guards stepped forward to exact the command of their charge. They were halted only by Misery's handgun pointed within millimeters of the ambassador's face.

"Speak no more words of action, pard of the High Council, and resign to your seat before the bullets of this gun burrow into your cranium," the Decepticon female was fully aware of the other guards raising their weapons, but she was also more aware of the three who had previously been seated drawing their own weapons to bare against the bodyguards.

"You dare to raise your weapon against me: Esoteric, the Patriarch of Omicron!" the ambassador's words hissed with his anger, and Misery took notice of how his body began to subtly shake in regards to the situation at hand. There was nothing more pleasing to her than seeing a weakness in those she hated, especially one that could later be exploited.

"You have the audacity to order respect when it can only be earned. Depth Charge has only stated what is obvious to all, and he has done nothing to warrant such disrespect from you." Misery double charged her weapon, making sure that the noise would be heard this time for enough dramatic effect. "I warn you once more: take your seat and return your guards to your side."

"What she says is true, Esoteric. I suggest you listen to the lady before she carries out her side of this bargain," Depth Charge dropped slowly into his own seat, holstering his gunblade easily, and staring across the table to the ambassador of Omicron. "None of us are in the mood for this confrontation, nor do any of us wish to do more than is required at this moment. Let us begin this meeting in peace before the rest of our tempers are lost."

Patriarch Esoteric glared back and forth between the chief of security and apparently the latest addition to his entourage. Slowly, he raised his hand and made a signal that his guards seemed to hesitate after receiving. After a period of no movement the Patriarch finally turned his head to face his guards and barked an order, "I command you to withdraw! Obey me at once!" Slowly, but surely, they seemed to fade back towards the walls until only Misery remained with her weapon still armed.

"Stand down, now," Depth Charge ordered sternly, tilting his body at an angle so that he could recline in his seat.

There were times, Misery decided, when it would be smarter to just follow instincts and kill the fool who crossed her path, but for courtesy's sake, she allowed Depth Charge to appear as if he had complete control over her; sometimes the threat worked better than the act. She holstered her gun thereafter and took her seat once more, watching as the Patriarch finally ordered his guards to just outside the doors.

Finally, the ambassador assumed the position in his head of table seat, only to immediately be handed a datapad with certain topics highlighted. "I see here that three bodies were recovered, identified as Ruthenium, Yammer, and Pabulum. It says here that high explosive detonation devices were in a crude manner of execution. I want to know how this happened, and why it happened."

Depth Charge about cracked his neck by how much further he tilted his head to the side. He knew that he had two choices now: one was to say they had nothing and were working on it, and two was to cover for Misery since he believed she had something to with it. Swallowing his conscience, he went with the former of the two. "As of right now, we have nothing further than you do. As I said earlier, we've wasted three megacycles alone sitting here waiting for you."

The Patriarch corked the comment he was about to make towards security and incompetence, but thought better of it. Bully for him, Misery would have loved to shove her gun in his face again. Instead, he tapped at the screen of his datapad and read over the other information that appeared. "I see here that you've hired two new recruits to your task force, one who sits before me," he shot the Decepticon female a glare of hatred, "the other as a communications officer. Now," he sat the datapad down and looked Depth Charge in the face, "not only I, but the Council informed you that you were not to hire any more to your crew. You have the allotment that you needed, and we are not going to be paying for these new--" he saw Misery shift in the corner of his blue optics "--wonderful additions, which we shall be so happy to provide full quartering, supplies, and substantial needs in return for service."

Depth Charge patted the hilt of his gunblade affectionately, hiding his smirk from his red optics as Jazz³ and Cybershark attempted not to smile physically. "I hired them because Jazz cannot attend communications at all times like we need and Misery here has more experience than all my crew, including myself."

"Are you saying that I should place her in your position instead?"

"Not at all," as Depth Charge spoke Misery made sure to roll her helm from shoulder to shoulder in an elaborate gesture. "Misery follows my command. I doubt things would go as smoothly if you have a military expert leading a peaceful colony of civilians."

To this, the ambassador could only agree. He'd seen colonies go through a maelstrom of disasters when generals or colonels had been placed in control of civilian areas. "Very well then, you are dismissed." Before the others at the table could stand, the Patriarch was out the door and down the hallway ahead of them.

Depth Charge faced the Autobot grandsired and mouthed his name. Jazz³ nodded once and then his blue optics disappeared behind his visor. A few moments later Jazz³ said, "The room's clear."

"He is going to kill you," Misery smirked, picking at the back of her left gauntlet as she did.

"Is this prophesying, intuition, or knowledge?" said Depth Charge, returning the smile.

Misery blinked once, long, and turned her head to search the room, always ready, always paranoid. "Evil knows evil, Depth Charge. It is only a matter of time."

"Something needs to be done, then," Jazz³ scratched at the back of his helm, visor remaining down and lit to alert him immediately should any listening devices become active.

The other three blinked, not expecting that Jazz³ of all bots would be insinuating that the Patriarch would need to be . . . removed. Cybershark spoke first to break the silence. "You realize that if we do something, it could fall back upon us."

Nodding, Depth Charge rubbed at his face with his palm. "It would take precision," he flicked a glance to Misery, "and it would take strength. Evil must know how to fight its own kind, right?"

"Leave everything to me, lovely boy," purred Misery, dactyls raking along the table.

"I don't want him tortured, Misery. I just want ya to kill him quickly and make it inconspicuous."

"We'll have to clean it up, though," Cybershark added, red pinprick optics watching the female across the table. I know you'll have your fun, Misery. I know you'll kill him so slowly that he will feel every bit of pain from head to sabaton. But I want you to know, Misery, that when you kill him, I want to help you. I want to taste the things that you will taste . . . I want to share in his death. Misery! She barely made a movement, but the gesture was subtle enough that only Cybershark could see it. The immortal female had heard him after all, his telemetry was strong enough to reach through her cranium to touch with her mind. This pleased him, yet he knew it would displease her later.

Misery cocked her head to the left, inspecting the chief of security with half-lidded optics. Scarlet fire burned behind her darkened eyes, but the pinprick that were usually distinct were no longer focused on anything specific. "Solar winds shall be here within seven days." A smile took over her face and a devious cackle parted her blue lips. "Be death proud, untimely, or humble, those who deserve it shall be brought to it within time."

Jazz³ spoke up, then, "We need to leave before they get suspicious." To this Depth Charge agreed and gave the order silently through standing and making his way to the door. There was never anything worse than the "good guys" planning a murder, but sometimes the lines needed to blur to secure the sanctity of life for others.

The Last Man Standing in Ward Eight was the only bar not on the registered list of facilities within the immediate area. To the unaided eye, the building was condemned, but that was only the surface view. From the underground sectors, the speakeasy was accessible to those alone who knew the code and password. All in all, it was simple enough for Stricture and Taciturn to enter thanks to the help of the smuggler.

Stalking into the room, eyes and optics barely turned to face the two until they took seats next to an illustrious, knowledgeable bot. "May I help you, gentlemen?" he asked once the two had made themselves comfortable.

"Actually, yes," Stricture leaned forward, hand sliding across the table.

It only took a quick glance for the scientist to determine the credits beneath the blue, gold, and silver Decepticon's gauntlet. Placing his own hand over top of the other, the scientist took hold of the credits once Stricture had removed his palm from the table. "I see . . . What use may I serve to assist you gentlemen?"

"Tell us your business," Taciturn slumped in his seat and motioned to the barkeep. After ordering drinks for the three at the table, Taciturn licked at his lips and continued, "As much detail as possible would be wondrous and beneficial."

Once the scientist had detailed his place of work in the only interesting research building on Omicron, Stricture closed his datapad from the notes he had been making and filled the verbal gap before Taciturn had the chance. "What's your biggest and worst research projects like?"

The scientist, now known as Whelk, spared a glance about the Last Man Standing, and then hid his mouth with his thin hands. "Are you reporters of some sort?"

"Not at all," Stricture grinned, "we're just looking for an old friend. Going to give him a surprise by showing up if we can find him."

"Oh, looking for someone in the high up places, yes?" Whelk returned the grin wholeheartedly. "There are about five special projects that we've got going at the moment."

"Which one is the most important?"

"Erm, well . . . I believe that would be the Exodus project," Whelk paused a moment, looking at the smiling faces across the table. "What?"

"Exodus. The X server," Stricture began to chuckle along with his wingmate. "You Maximals are such fools, really, you are." Whelk sat back as far as the chair would allow. "The X server, honestly, Maximal. You should have been more creative." The room grew silent as the laughter of the two picked up further than it was originally. "The X server. The X server. That was the original name of the computer created to serve the functions of the Autobots. If I remember correctly, a computer that manifested itself into a living shell of unstoppable power to begin with. It became Xyston, did it not?"

Whelk, as well as others in the room began to back away slowly. "We thank you for your help, Whelk," said a cackling Taciturn, standing from the table and walking away with Stricture following close behind him. "To tell you guys the truth, I would say that any fool who would keep the original name of Xyston as the title of the experiment." Stretching, the red and black Decepticon held the door open for his wingmate. "Oh, well, we thank you Whelk for your help. Our master will be pleased once we release him upon this universe once more."

"You were a fool to keep him from us," the blue and silver Decepticon's face grew cynical. "Thank you, Whelk. We'll make sure that Xyston appreciates your gesture of good will." Within moments, they were gone and the room remained filled with a repugnant silence. Whelk was halfway into standing when a cloud of glowing smoke of silver, gold, and blue appeared in the middle of the group of men. "Oh, by the way, here's a parting gift." Stricture disappeared in another burst of light and clouds, but the presents of Taciturn's bombs were this time powerful enough to leave six blocks decimated by the exuberant explosion.

A wicked green optic alit with awareness and understanding. A pump of fluid sent twitters throughout the mangled and disassembled body. Only the mind was more corporal than the computer monitors could register. With a glimmer of a thought, a seemingly endless amount of apathy became joy. This pain is mine to give.