Imagine

Part One

Note: This is a prelude of things to come for Epoch: Omicron Chronicles, Chapter 14: Cruelty Brought Thee Orchids. The lyrics quoted at the beginning belong to Avatar's "Queen of Death." The poem, at the end, in case some have not read the book, belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings.

She approached the edge of the loft, hands grabbing hold of the railing as she glared down at him. Currently, her death mate was burning the last shelf, making sure that every book kept by this factory had been destroyed. So many companies that they had annihilated as well as personal lives in their journey across the galaxy. Xyston, in particular, had taken great pains to ensure that every document that resembled importance had been memorized and then destroyed.

Literally, anything to the immortal behemoth that could and would be found would be used to all ends. Traveling from colony to colony, he gathered every shred of documents he could find, particularly for the top three corporations of Cybertron, and filed every word, every phrase, every typo, every signature, nothing would be left unaccounted for. Sometimes, when he felt he had the time, he would send reprinted copies of documents to the major corporations, wanting payment, usually with someone to deliver –often which a someone that he left dead after payment was received—and was always amazed at how readily each company was willing pay to keep pertinent information hidden from the eyes of the public. He did not really care for the money, however, but it made a very large amount only after three tries with the Trask Industrial Corporation who was very eager to keep their work ethics silenced.

Inevitably, he shared all his new knowledge with Misery after he had deliberated the probability that two with such a knowledge would be more devastating to these companies that they destroyed in their wake.

Xyston extended his hand upwards, towards Misery in her loft above him, beckoning to her. Then, he began to recite, "Kiss me with Thy morbid lips, like fire / they're burning my flesh! / Thou turneth my pain into never ending pleasure! / Rape me with Thy dæmonic forces! / Black beauty of dark desire! / Thou bringeth out the Devil in me! / I shall make a proper sacrifice to bless Thee Dæmoness! / Hearken and remember!"

She looked away from him, then, optics focusing on the empty scarred shelves of the burning that he had done. "You read everything in here before you set it aflame? These numerous amounts of books and documents and you found the time to read them all while I was sealing off the bays?"

He continued, walking up the circular staircase to reach her, "The carnal sins of desires are dancing in my mind / The blackened earth has given me knowledge / To summon Thy name, wicked dæmoness / Praise to Thee, Queen of Death / Thy beauty has no words to explain Thy presence! / Spread Thy leather wings and possess my body / With the everlasting Lust." She turned away from his emerald optics as his hand ensnared her jaw. "Ma fierté, I am yours this night."

Misery parted her lips, uncertain of his intentions. "You chill me, Xyston."

"Then let me warm your metal, ma fierté, and qualm shall leave you. Let me take away your inculpating perceptions of me for tonight," he drew her lips close to his, hovering within a breath of a kiss. "Tonight, ma fierté, I give myself to you. Let your dispassionate resistance fade; let us have one another in peccadillo while this city burns to the ground around us." The immortal behemoth pressed his lips to hers, putting as much heat and desire as he could to let her know his true -time limited- intentions.

After two sparkbeats of a moment, Misery drew away from him, putting her back against the wall as he advanced towards her, pressing his body against the length of hers, an audible relaxed sigh escaping both their lips. "Circumspect, ma modestie, be mindful of what you ask of me . . ."

"I would only ask of you what I know you can do, ma fierté, my pet, my Misery." Another chill ran through her body, this time directing senses she did not unleash around her counterpart. "Everything done here tonight will be between you and I, ma fierté."

"You promise?" she asked, raising an optic brow, lips pursing together with an open "o" circlet, helping to show her desire.

"Of course, my pet, my Misery, complete . . ." he cut himself off at the feel of her lips against his once more, the heat in his emerald optics rising in intensity.

"And utter," she continued for him, finishing the last bit of the sentence with him, "clandestine."

"Misery . . ." he moaned, pressing his lips to hers again. The action, she had to admit, was quite delicate. His hands gripped her sides, pulling her tightly, yet comfortably, against his stomach and chest. He was being careful, she thought, mindful of how strong he was. It was true that he was strong, but the tentative grip he held on her had her suspicious. "Misery . . ." he breathed again, lifting her up in his massive arms and carrying her down the steps, laying her down amongst the ashes of the burnt log books.

He laid down atop her, his legs on either side of her waist, holding her beneath him. No, not holding, she realized, trapping. His delicate touch brushed against her, sending shivers through her stomach and legs. Xyston was considering her his prey for the night, his new flavour of snack. "Xyston," she winced as his fingers trailed down her body and began to press into her stomach, threatening to puncture her if he continued his current course of action. "Xyston," Misery grabbed at his wrist, holding on to him as he began to force his fingertips into her stomach, digging into her metal with restrained ease.

"Pretty pet," he cooed, feeling trails of mech begin to seep out, filling in the indentations around his dactyls as he continued to press, watching her face as her optics clenched shut in her efforts to hide her pain. "You disobeyed me, pretty pet. You enumerated my plans to the Guardian, directed him to Phi, brought him to us!" he snarled, fingers flexing inside her body as she struggled not to move, not to writhe, not to cry out in pain. His fingertips touched inside her body, and for a moment he was tempted to rip the chunk of metal out of her. "You were a bane, a poison, my delicate one. Provide me why and wherefore and I may not execute your life."

"Xyston, you . . . you cannot kill me!" she gasped, hands holding tight to his wrist, trying to pull him out of her. "I am immortal just as you!" His face seemed to contemplate this, twisting his optics in realization.

"Ma fierté, you do seem to prompt important thoughts," he said, retracting his fingers from her stomach, watching the mech crawl back into her body, the metal reshape and reseal. He tapped his dactyls against her stomach, a drone of hollow sounds as he thought. "So, then, ma fierté, what shall I do to consummate a punishment about your misplaced actions?"

For a moment, her golden-hued, red optics quivered, slowly withdrawing her hands from his wrist, settling them against her stomach. "You . . . you wish to punish me for doing what you willed? Ma modestie, you wanted him to follow us. I have only done what you willed of me," she did not plead, but her voice was the closest she would ever allow to pleading.

"Yes, yes, continue to cue my memory, Misery, as to what I dictate with my discretion in the moments of a bloodbath," he was no longer using his "affectionate" name for her, and when he used her name she became acutely aware of the battle between words, optics, and body as he tried to decide which course of action to take. "I am coming to the conclusion, dearest Misery, that you submit to what I enounce when I am not announcing what I should!"

"I only did what you asked of me," her voice became lower, deadlier, and if he had not been paying full attention he would not have cared.

"Of course, of course, yes, I see now . . ." his hand clasped about her jaw, pulling her up to meet his lips in an abusive, controlling kiss. After a moment, he drew away from her lips, his mouth falling to her neck, tasting her rotary cords. "No punishment," he whispered, licking along the groove between her neck and helm, "is sweeter than the piquancy of you on my lips. How is it, ma fierté, that you taste so lovely, yet are so cold to those around you?"

"It comes with being a Decepticon," she blinked, craning her neck to the left to let him have a better angle on her body. "We females must be sweet to entice and cruel to annihilate," her hand reached up, grabbing the back of his helm as he worked back to her lips, nipping none too gently at her lower lip. Xyston's tongue began to ravished both her upper and lower lip, licking her equally on both sides until she was slick with wetness.

He nodded in agreement as she tilted her head back, moaning softly as he nuzzled his face against her neck and collar after finishing his work. "So much destruction we shall cause, ma fierté, so many lives yet still unaffected by our renaissance."

"Our reawakening has created a cause célèbre, my dearest Xyston, among the Maximal Council and the Tripredacus Council. Cybertron shall shudder in our wake and crumble, it shall fall to our feet and beg to us to spare it," she breathed, hand petting the back of his helm as she realized what she had to do.

"Ahh, ma fierté, I love it when you speak so pretty to me . . ." he cooed, pulling her into his arms. "And, ma fierté, we shall light a fire so gigantic the gods shall notice us once more . . ." He took a deep breath, hands flexing about her arms, no longer hurting her this time, but still letting her know who was in control. Then he continued, quoting another book he had read:

"The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with weary feet,

Until it joins some larger way,

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say . . ."