Author's Note: Darkshadow, or Darsh as I'll call him later, is partially based on the personality of the main character from a manga Bastard!! something that I highly recommend for the mature. The name of that character is Dark Schneider, but his lover the Thunder Empress Arshes Nei nicknamed him Darsh. Did you notice how in Let Fate Decide and In Brotherhood Bound you usually got Isis' view of the situation? Well here you will mostly see through Taratron's optics.

Chapter 1

Cybertron, 28 stellar cycles ago,

The single lamp swayed from side to side barley casting any light onto the three dark figures in the small room. They all had silver and red paint jobs with red optics. Their physical structure varied, but all three were designed with the appearance of knights from ancient Earth. One was tall and large, with a broad torso plate and a perpetual scowl on his face. The second resembled him, but was smaller in size. The last of their number was a frail-looking figure, hunched over the center table, with long thin fingers that he drummed together.

"All systems online," sounded the monotone voice of the computer. "Tripredicus Council is now in cession."

"Are you certain this boy is the best candidate?" the first member addressed his frail companion. "This mission is vital to our success. It must go through as planed."

"It will not fail," the second Predacon assured them. "I watched this boy for over a stellar cycle. He is ready for it."

"He is the best one we have," the thin bot told the large one. "He is deticated to the Predacon cause and has no emotional attachments like friends or family who could be used against him."

"Yet he does have a weakness," the first argued. "He will not harm a civilian. His honor is his greatest flaw. Who let him into the files of our Decepticon ancestors in the first place?"

"One of his foolish trainers," the second replied. "Do not concern yourselves, gentlemen. That bot has already been handed over to our top scientists." A maniacal laugh echoed through the room. "Besides, we don't want him to kill civilians. Any of our soldiers can do that. This boy is designed for combat and reconnaissance. We want him to blend in with the Maximals and their army as well as possible."

"Very well," the first Tripredicus Council member sighed after a long moment of silence. "Bring him in and let us see what he has to say for himself."

The third councilbot nodded and pressed a button. "Send in the boy," he called across the com link. The door slid open and a figured stepped through. The largest Predacon studied him carefully and with great skepticism. The young bot was fifteen stellar cycles of age with deep violet optics. He stood straight and saluted the Tripredacus Council.

"Gentlemen," the frail bot rose and walked around the table, placing his thin fingers on the boy's shoulders. "I am proud to present Predacon unit 7547-8666, code name: Taratron."

* * * * * * * * * *

The sun had barely lit up the harrizon when Taratron was loaded onto the truk that would take him into Maximal territory. He held on tightly to the data pad with orders of action from the Tripredicus Council. He sat down on a metal bench in the back hall of the truck, warily observing his surroundings. There were three other children with him. All three wore Maximal symbols, but then again now that his energy signature had been changes he wore it as well. Therefore he had know way of knowing if these children were Maximal prisoners on their way to be released or if they were actually Predacons on missions similar to his own. As far as he knew he was the only one entrusted with such an important mission.

The first one he took note of was a young girl, about a stellar cycle his junior. She sat in the darkest corner of the cart, head buried in her knees which she tightly pulled up to her chest. Her golden bronze hair spilled around her shoulders as they shook violently with each sob. Next to her stood a little boy with emerald-green optics who looked to be only three stellar cycles of age. Judging by his likeness to the female, Taratron guessed that they were somehow related, possibly siblings. The little boy looked like he was trying to comfort the older girl, but the child was on the verge of tears as well.

The last occupant of the cart was a male of Taratron's age and size. He sat slumped back on the bench, arms crossed over his torso plate. He wore a red and black paint job, but Taratron couldn't see the color of his optics for they were shut off. The teenaged male wore a smirk on his face. Tatatron quickly lost interest in the others and activated the data pad to read his orders.

Unit 7547-8666,

You will arrive on Maximal territory within the next solar cycle. This data pad contains forged records of your birth as a Maximal unit under the name Taratron. Acording to the forged documents, you have begun your training in the M.T.A.—Maximal Training Academy—this stellar cycles. Your classes and other duties are outlined in detail on the next page.

When your training is compleat in the next three stellar cycles, you will begin your life in the Maximal military. Report to us of your progress once your training is completed. After that you will report any and all information from the Maximals concerning the war.

Your ultimate goal is to reach the M.I.U.—Maximal Intelligence Unit. Report to us when you do for further instructions.If you have any questions, contact us.

Tripredacus Council

"Hey you," Taratron growled and looked up, meeting the silver optics of the red and black male. "You online, kid?"

"Yes," the Predacon replied slowly, "though it is illogical for you to call me 'kid' since I am probably your peer if not your elder."

"You are?" the male was taken aback by the seriousness of Taratron's voice. "Primus, bro, take that energon rod out of your exhaust port. What are you so uptight about? We're going home."

"You're assuming we have a home to go back to, came the soft voice of the female across the cart. She struggled up to her feet and placed a hand on the little boy's shoulder. Taratron noted that their optics were the same emerald-green color, giving further evidence to his hypothesis of their relationship. "The Predacons went through our colony, destroying everything in their path Even if our home is intact, I don't know if there's anyone left to welcome us back." Her hands tightened around the little boy.

"This is your brother?" Taratron inquired, studying the child.

"Yes," she nodded, her optics never leaving his violet ones. "His name is Celadon. I am Ghanima."

"What you are is a whiny bitch," the other male scoffed. "We're alive. What can you complain about?"

"I resent that, Darkshadow," she sat down with her little brother in her lap.

"Whatever," Darkshadow brushed her of impatiently. He too settled down.

"You know," Taratron said, causally fiddeling with the data pad. "They say that males who speack such profanaties to females often do so because they lack in certain areas," he let that sink n for a beat. "Do you lack in such areas, Darkshadow?"

The other male narrowed his optics, but said nothing else to further injure his ego. Ghanima stared at Taratron, who had returned to reading his data pad. With the corner of his vision, he caught the smile that spread over her once tear-streaked face. He too allowed for an amused smile before turning to look out the window at the full moon, battle scared ages ago by Unicron himself. Taratron didn't know it then, but at that very moment on the surface of that moon, a life sparked into existence that would forever alter the coarse of his fate. Isis Khmer was born.

Author's End Note: Well how was Chapter 1? How are things from Taratron's eyes? Did you guys pick up that Ghanima's little brother is the same Celadon as the bot who is in the M.I.U. with Isis and Taratron in Let Fate Decide? The title of this story An Angel Born In Hell does NOT refer to Isis' birth.