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[Snoopy82]

THE EPIC UP TO CHAPTER THIRTY TWO MAY BE FOUND AT THIS LINK. THIS TOPIC WILL BE USED FOR NEW CHAPTERS.

The BZPower Story

An Original Epic By Snoopy82


This epic does not represent the views of the staff that the author holds. The Staff work very hard to keep this website running and should be respected. This work is completely fictional. All portrayals of members are fictional and are in no way a portrayal of them in real life.

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Prologue.

Often an entire city has suffered because of an evil man.
--Hesiod, Greek didactic poet (~800 BC)

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This was the end. Ninjo was about to die.

Just three years earlier he had stood on the beach, sword in hand, training at the side of Dimensioneer. They had been friends, sworn to protect. Now they were enemies, sworn to kill.

Ninjo lay on the ground outside of BZ-Metru, sword just out of reach. His legs were broken, his arms bloodied and bruised, and head swimming. Dimensioneer stood over him. His blade was at Ninjo's neck, poised to run through.

"First you deceive the other admins, then you try and pollute the minds of the moderators with that fiend Hapori Dume. And now, now you try to destroy the site altogether with that "KimPower" nonsense. You're truly a madman."

Dimensioneer smiled. "It is all part of a bigger plan, my friend."

"Don't call me a friend."

"Very well, Ninjo. You know you can't win. Join me, and you will have fame. Fortune. Glory. Anything you could ever desire."

"What I desire is the exact opposite of what you want."

"So you will not side with me?"

"Never."

"Then you must die, so you cannot reveal my plans."

Dimensioneer started to push the sword toward Ninjo's neck. Then, he stopped. A thoughtful look appeared on his face, and he withdrew his sword.

"I have a better idea... much better indeed."

He dropped his sword.

"I, Dimensioneer, as the founder and Forum Administrator of BZ-Metru, restrict this member known as Ninjo from entering the forums for 5 years."

Ninjo gasped.

"After which he will be allowed to return and will aid me in my conquest."

Ninjo's face conveyed nothing but fear. "You can't do that! There's no way you can make me help you!"

Dimensioneer smiled again, this time with a cruel twist. "There is one way... a virus."

He took a pill containing a virus from his belt and before Ninjo could react, Dimensioneer shoved it down his throat. Ninjo started to twist and turn, as the virus slowly started to infect his mind. Soon, the virus would be in full control of his body, and Ninjo would be helpless against it.

"I'll leave you now, Ninjo, to writhe in the pain accompanying the virus. I'll see you again in five years... when you will help me achieve ultimate power."

He started to walk away, but turned to say one last thing.

"Good bye... friend."

Edited by Snoopy82, Oct 13 2011 - 08:06 PM.

[Snoopy82]

The BZ-Metru Story, Chapter 33
Remorse is the pain of sin.
Theodore Parker

Early Morning, two hours before sunrise, on December 29^th

“Sir, you can’t possibly be serious.”

The air in the room thickened. The suggestion had come from Mahalis, sitting on the far end of a long conference table. All eyes in the room widened at the words, waiting with baited breath to see what would happen to the dissenter.

The setting was the conference room of the CoT capital building. The BZR Leadership Council—consisting of Bfahome, Mahalis, Kex, Electric Tuhrak, Ninjo, and Nikira—had gathered to discuss just how to eliminate BZ-Metru once and for all. Ninjo had just suggested that he personally enter General Discussion to kill Black Six.

“You seem to doubt my ability, Mahalis. Do you have a better alternative?” said Ninjo coyly.

Mahalis looked about the room for any kind of distraction, but it was nowhere to be found. He struggled to respond. “Well, no sir, but I just don’t think…”

“You don’t think what?”

“…that a man of your importance should put himself in such harm.”

Ninjo glared. “You seem to be suggesting that you would be better suited for this task. You, who have not killed a man in your life. No one in this room has killed as many as I have. I am certain that all of you would fail in any attempt to emulate me. Who killed Screenguy? Who killed Gatanui, Crudelious, and even the great Bionicle Rex? I did. And yet you seem to be suggesting that I am unfit to kill again.”

“I was only…”

“Might I remind you, Mahalis, that even I must sometimes answer to orders from a superior.”

The room hushed. For Nikira, ET, and Kex, the words had no meaning—an empty threat. But for Mahalis and Bfahome, the same name crept into their heads—neither dared to speak it.

Ninjo rose from his seat at the head of the table. “Gentlemen, the next time you see me, Black Six will be dead. As for BZ-Metru, I leave it’s assimilation in your hands…” He eyed Mahalis with contempt. “…As frail as they might be.”

Without a word from himself, and a blanket of utter silence hanging over the others, Ninjo exited the room.

The silence persisted for a brief moment after he left, but it was soon broken by Kex. “What now?”

Mahalis shook his head. “I was only looking out for his own safety. If he gets killed out there, the war is over.”

“Shut up already, we’re sorry he made a fool of you, but what’s done is done. We have a war to run and, until gets back, we also have a country to run,” said Nikira. “We need to figure out our next maneuver.”

“There’s not much of a choice,” said ET. “They’re holed up in GD, we’re out here… the only choice is for us to go in and get ‘em.”

“Why?”

All eyes once again focused on one spot, this time on Bfahome.

“Why should we kill more? Why should we murder again? Is it really worth it to further destroy an already decimated enemy? We’re trying to create a new country here, not kill for killing’s sake.”

Mahalis’ eyes narrowed. “You’re turning soft, Bfahome. They have not learned their lesson, they have not submitted to our might. They must pay.”

“With their lives? Do you think that just because of Ninjo’s ranting against you, you have to kill countless strangers?”

“Quite frankly, I don’t give a Bohrok about what Ninjo says. He’s obviously gone insane—let him die! He has a death wish, and you all heard it yourselves: he wants us to finish this.”

The room filled with the heavy sound of silence. Bfahome was the first to break it, his tone shocked and hushed: “I… I was asking for you to consider a peaceful solution. You’re asking for madness.”

“The time for peace is past. We must end this once and for all, Bfahome. We outnumber them. We will overtake the city, and gain control for ourselves.”

Bfahome stood, just as had Ninjo. “I can’t do it. Kill all you want. There will be no more blood on my hands!”

And Bfahome, long standing supporter and agent of the Bionicle Zone Republic, left the room—and the BZR.

Once again, the room filled with silence… and once again, it was broken by Kex.

“So… what now?”

__________


One hour before sunrise

Black Six had not slept the entire night. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was an untidy mess. Instead of enjoying peaceful slumber like the rest of the military, he was instead lying awake in his bedroom wondering how in the world he would fix the mess he had started. He knew that the BZR would attack the next day—that was doubtless. But how in the world could BZ-Metru save itself again?

A loud rap at the door awoke him from his thoughtful trance. He rolled out of bed and, brushing his hair with his hand, opened the door. It was Toaraga.

“Sir,” said his General, looking very distressed, “I have urgent news.”

“Come in, Toaraga. Sit down.”

The suggestion took Toaraga completely by surprise, but the General was in no state to decline. He sat down on a couch—the hotel room Black Six was staying in was a suite—and Six sat down in a chair by the window.

“Now, sir about that news…”

“What should we do, Toaraga?”

Toaraga was yet again taken aback. “Um… well, sir, we can discuss that later, but I have urgent…”

Six interrupted him. “There’s no way out, Toaraga. I’ve failed BZ-Metru.”

Toaraga awkwardly looked away from Six’s forlorn stare. Passively he tried to vindicate Six. “You haven’t failed, sir… we… we have all failed.”

Six sighed, almost inaudibly, and diverted his stare to the window. In the distance, silhouetted against the fading sun was the Administrator’s Palace. It stood empty, a reminder of Six’s ever fracturing regime. Just the sight of it made Six wish he could tear it down, perhaps even start all over. He was not the first head admin to face rebellion, but he was the first to crack under its pressure. Reflecting, Six was amazed that he had lasted as long as it did. He had been forced t endure almost entirely by himself—all of his superiors had been deposed of. Bionicle Rex had died before the struggle even began. Dimensioneer had not been heard from in months. And even—

Six straightened up in his chair. Of course. It had been so long since that name had ran through his mind that he had nearly forgotten—the man who had sustained the site in the years before Six’s ascent.

He suddenly rose from his chair and faced the startled Toaraga, who had been nervously checking his phone. “Come with me, Toaraga. We’re getting out of here.”

Toaraga was surprised at Six’s sudden mood change. “What? Where?”

“To find an old friend… you remember Binkmeister, right?”


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Edited by Snoopy82, Oct 14 2011 - 02:36 PM.

[Snoopy82]

The BZ-Metru Story, Chapter 34
Anything for a quiet life.
Thomas Middleton

A bright winter sun beat down upon Six and Toaraga as they walked down a deserted General Discussion street. There was an unnatural calm set over the street, of which the two took notice. Every few minutes Toaraga glanced behind himself, and even the usually fortitudinous Six nervously kept a hand on his gun handle.

“It’s so… quiet!” said Toaraga, after peering over his shoulder. “This is usually one of the busiest streets in GD, where is everyone?”

“People are scared,” replied Six. “Anyone living near where the last battle took place has warned their friends, and people are worried that at any moment the BZR will come marching up their street.”

“Do they really have that little faith in us?”

“They have about as much faith as I do,” retorted Six. This response startled Toaraga. The pair continued in a grim silence until they reached the end of the road. It branched off to the left and right, cut off ahead by the wall around GD.

“Right, I think,” said Six. As they turned, Toaraga asked what had been burning in his mind since they had left.

“Sir… why, exactly, are we going to see him again?”

“Because we need help, if that wasn’t clear enough.”

“But what can he do? He hasn’t been staff in years.”

Six sighed. “He knows the key to a tool, a tool that only he and Dimensioneer know how to use—and it can help us end this once and for all.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Scarcely had the words left Six’s mouth when he realized that they had, in fact, arrived. They were in the oldest district of GD, which was therefore the oldest district in the city. The small townhouse before them showed it—its windows were blackened by dust, its frame was uneven, and the roof showed signs of serious samage.

“Here? The man who created this city lives in a rundown shack?” exclaimed Toaraga incredulously. Six approached the door and rang the bell. Moments later the door opened to reveal the proprietor of the house.

Binkmeister was older than either of the two men before him. He was considerably shorter, had a short stubble beard and showed signs of age. Toaraga estimated him to be middle aged.

“I thought you might show up,” said Bink, seeing Six. He eyed Toaraga. “Who’s this?”

“Toaraga. He’s a Deputy Admin.”

Bink considered this for a moment, and stepped back in to the house. “Come in.”
Six and Toaraga entered the ramshackle house, which appeared just as old on the inside as it did the outside. Binkmeister ushered them into the living room. He sat in an old plump armchair, while Six chose a wooden rocking chair. Toaraga sat on a couch.

Bink broke a moment of awkward silence. “If you’re here to recruit me, Six, it won’t work. I’m no soldier.”

“I have no interest in recruiting you,” replied Six. “I wanted to ask you about the server.”
“Well, that’s one thing I can help you with I guess. What about it?”

Six blinked several times as if collecting his thoughts. “When I was first being trained for duty as Head Administrator, Dimensioneer told me about some sort of failsafe that may be used when the city is in danger.”

Bink seemed taken aback—Toaraga thought he even saw him shudder. “What do you know about it?”

“Nothing, except that it’s only meant to be used in emergencies.”

“To use it any other time would be beyond reason,” replied Bink. “I am hesitant to tell you this, but if you wish to enact it after I tell you then let it be on your head. Now, I suppose we need a little background first. As you know, the official name of the server itself is Hapori Tohu—Bionicle Rex, Dimensioneer, and myself named it so. It is a very loose adoption of a very ancient language that roughly means ‘Director of the Society.’ A very fitting name, because as you know without the server we would have no power, water, etcetera.

“But we realized much too late that putting all our eggs in one basket, as it were, was a very bad thing. It simplified day to day organization, yes, but the system we set up was so integrated that if any part of it failed, the whole thing would have to be shut down to repair it. That was okay for minor repairs, and often could be undertaken at night, but we feared a long term, or worse unfixable, problem was only a matter of time in coming. Which is why we installed Hapori Dume.”

Six and Toaraga sat, dumbfounded at this last statement. Toaraga gave a small laugh incredulously

“But Hapori Dume, I thought that was a virus…”

Bink smiled and continued his monologue. “You thought wrong. You believed the hype, and the media, while they blathered on about what they didn’t know anything about. Hapori Dume was—is, I should say—no virus. It is a program, installed by the three of us, to be enacted in case of an extreme emergency or server failure. Taking from the server’s name, it means ‘Savior of the Society.’ When we installed it, we agreed among ourselves that it could only be used providing that either the future of the populace was in doubt or if the server itself was infected beyond repair. In short, when it is activated—and only one of us three, well, two, can do that—it will completely revert the city to a pristine preprogrammed condition. All members will wake up on a cool, clear morning as though they have just joined, their previous accolades and contributions gone.”

Silence filled the room. Toaraga and Six both stared off at some distant point, contemplating what had just been said. Six was the first to react. “You mean… you wipe their memories completely?”

“How will there be order? How can that possibly work?” added Toaraga.

“Not entirely. They will know that they are members of BZ-Metru, what Bionicle is, etcetera. All that is erased is their posts and the like. Their personalities and to some extent their memories remain. Now as for how order will be kept,” he nodded at Toaraga, “Only those standing in the server chamber retain knowledge of what has happened. The plan was to have us three be there, to help lead the rebooted forums.

“So what do you think, Black Six?” he finished, sitting back in his chair, “Now that you know what horror the failsafe actually is, would you dare use it?”
Silence, as Six struggled with the decision in his head. He had known in coming here that the failsafe was likely some form of reset—but he hadn’t thought that it would be so drastic. But, as he called the old colloquialism into his head, desperate times called for desperate measures. And these were most certainly drastic times. He glanced out the window. Somewhere out there, there were thousands of people ready to give their lives to defend their city and their families. So many had done it already.

But none else should.

“We’re doing it. Let’s go, before this madness is the murder of us all.”

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Edited by Snoopy82, Oct 15 2011 - 04:35 PM.

[Snoopy82]

The BZ-Metru Story, Chapter 35
Success isn't a result of spontaneous combustion. You must set yourself on fire.
Arnold H. Glasow

It was once said that, in a far away empire many thousands of years ago, an emperor named Nero fiddled while his capital burned. Dimensioneer reflected on this fact as he sat at his desk in the Administrator’s Palace. An outside observer might draw the conclusion that Dimensioneer was likewise doing nothing while his country crumbled. Here he was, sitting behind a desk while mere miles away two armies were about to fight to the death for their respective freedom.

Dimensioneer chuckled at this thought. To say he was doing nothing would be to say that Bohrok were square, or that Makuta was misunderstood. He was the one who was working the hardest of anyone. He was the one who had spend months, if not years planning for this day. He was the one who had the most at stake. He was the one who had set the fire.

But it had not been easy. He had known since the day the idea first crept into his mind that it would not be easy. It had taken much longer and required much more death than originally planned—but they deserved it. Everyone who had stood in his way deserved it. Bionicle Rex, for picking Six as his successor and not Dimensioneer. Gatanui and Screenguy, for coming much too close to finding him out. He had made sure to avoid murder unless the recipient was deserving.

And the victims of the longer than anticipated, drawn out war? He felt no sympathy. In any struggle for power, there were bound to be nameless casualties. It did not matter as long as there were even a dozen citizens to rule. When they revered him, it would not matter.
He sat back in his chair, pursuing every detail of the plan that was about to be fulfilled. Step one, he thought to himself as he reached across his desk to pick up his phone. He dialed and waited for a response.

“Mahalis? The time is now. Strike, and return to the Palace.”
He hung up without waiting for a reply. Mahalis was a loyal servant, one of his finest—one that would make a good deputy once the plan was complete. Until then, Mahalis’ part of the puzzle was fulfilled.
The remainder of the plan was shockingly simple, after such a dramatic buildup. Announce that he, Dimensioneer, had killed Ninjo and that the BZR had officially made peace. The country would at peace, he would be in control, and all it would take to finish his years of striving would be the loading of one computer program.

But there was still one task to be completed: He had to kill Ninjo. Ninjo had been a good pawn, but Dimensioneer had always known this day would come. The virus that he had implanted in Ninjo was nearing its end. Dimensioneer almost pitied Ninjo—at that moment, Ninjo was probably enduring excruciating mental duress, caught somewhere between virus and reality. In that way, Dimensioneer realized, no one could chastise him for his actions. He was only putting Ninjo out of his misery.
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled and ancient device from it. On the device was a small lit-up map of the city. On the map, in the south-east corner of GD, was a blinking dot that was inching closer and closer to the Admin’s Palace. That was Ninjo.

Dimensioneer stood up and sighed. Only one small task remained before total domination. So many things could go wrong. But it was of no matter. There were safeguards in place. It was only a matter of time before Hapori Dume was unleashed.

***

True to word, Ninjo was in excruciating mental pain. It had been a long time in coming—for months he had slowly been feeling overcome by a strange, almost foreign personality. And yet, it was one that felt natural and welcoming, almost as if it belonged there.

It was telling him terrible things. Awful things. As he stumbled across the deserted, battle-torn southern half of GD, the voice was louder than anything he had ever endured. He felt like there we two armies fighting inside of him.

Dimensioneer is a liar! it screamed. He is leading you into a trap, he is going to destroy the entire country!

No! Dimensioneer found me, without him I wouldn’t be alive—

Dimensioneer is the reason you were lost in the first place! He is what has made you commit these murders, he is what has destroyed your mind and soul!

Ninjo slumped against the remains of a crumbled wall and clamped his hands over his ears, as though that would help. No… I didn’t murder, they deserved it! I was only following his orders, and he was right! We will rule this city together!

You don’t know what you’re doing! You were given power and responsibility to serve and protect this city, and all you have done is destroy it! You killed your own mentor, the man who gave you this responsibility, you have killed many of your old friends—leave now and never come back!

He fell to his knees. The one side felt enormous pride in his actions, and yet the other was causing him extreme, painful remorse… while both felt fear of the other.

A soft crack and the sound of debris crumbling behind him filled the otherwise silent air. Quickly he stood and turned, gun raised as the one half gained control--

But he lowered his guard when he saw that it was only Dimensioneer.

“Dimensioneer… I’m going mad… please help me…”

You aren’t going mad… you’re becoming yourself again.

As this thought fleeted across his mind he shriveled in enormous pain. So much so that he never saw Dimensioneer pull a handgun from his coat pocket and carefully take aim.

And in that small moment, as Dimensioneer stood with his gun raised, he felt pity for Ninjo. It was strange. He had always known that he would have to do this… but now that he actually saw what he had created, he felt some small shred of remorse. Perhaps he could remove the virus… maybe he should set Ninjo free.

No. This was all about himself.

A single gunshot. A pained, surprised, and pleading face. A soft crack and the sound of debris.

There Ninjo lay, in the middle of a deserted, battle-torn street—blood soaking into his shirt.

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[Snoopy82]

The BZ-Metru Story Chapter 36
Worry does not mean fear, but readiness for the confrontation.
Bashar al-Assad

Mahalis heard nothing of this. Any gunshot would have seemed normal to him—for merely two miles away a battle of thousands was raging on. The air was filled with continuous explosions and gunfire. It would be impossible to distinguish Dimensioneer’s shot from any other.

And yet Mahalis knew that the deed had been done. It had been a long time in coming, and the phone call from Dimensioneer had been the warning. Mahalis realized that his role in the plan was over for the time being, and that all there was left to do was wait.

He smiled as he realized this. He was done. He had pulled everything off perfectly, without any flaws for Dimensioneer to blame on him. Surely he would be rewarded to the highest—

“Mahalis.”

He spun around upon hearing the horrifyingly familiar voice and found Bfahome, arm raised and gun aimed.

“Bfahome… what are you—”

Bfahome tilted his head. His eyes portrayed a look of malicious insanity, as though they were attempting to bore into Mahalis’ soul. “I want you to know how it feels. I want you to realize what you have done. I want to end this. That is what I’m doing.”

Mahalis let out a small chuckle as he realized what he was dealing with—Bfahome had obviously been driven mad by war fatigue. He tried seizing control of the situation, creeping slowly toward Bfahome while slowly reach for his gun. “Now now, Bfahome… let’s not get too hasty… I know you’re tired, we all are… but it’ll all be-”

A loud shot filled the air and pain seized Mahalis’ right hand. He sharply clutched at it with his left hand, causing his gun to fall to the ground. Horrified, he looked up at his attacker.

“Bfahome… why?”

A small smile appeared on Bfahome’s face, one of maniacal triumph. “Because I wanted you to realize how it hurts. How the many thousands of lives you have ordered to die felt. I once believed the same as you. I once possessed the same hatred. But I am sorry. I showed remorse, because I am human. You’re not human. You’re a freak!”

On the word “freak,” without so much as hesitation or warning, Bfahome fired two more shots head on at Mahalis. His former commander crumpled to the ground, dead before he reached it. Shaking, terrified, and yet satisfied, Bfahome threw the gun to the ground. He left BZ-Metru—some say he fled into the Great Desert and went mad—and was never heard from again.

***

Dimensioneer was getting impatient. He sat in a chair at a computer consol in the server room, drumming his fingers on the desk. In the middle of the room sat the server—towering up to the ceiling of the dome shaped cavern—at which Rama Swarm was typing last minute adjustments.

“It’s done. The whole thing, announcement, Dume and all, is set to go start midnight.”

Dimensioneer glanced down at his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until a prerecorded message of Dimensioneer announcing Ninjo’s death would fill the city. Ten minutes until Dume. Ten minutes until glory. But where the Karzahni was Mahalis?

“I don’t like this, Rama. Delay it. Something has gone wrong.”

“The announcement I can’t delay.”

“I don’t care about the announcement, that’s the least of our worries. Put Dume on standby.”

Rama obediently started typing at the computer again. Several minutes passed, no sounds but for the clicking of computer keys.

“Got it. The timer is off. Just say the word, and it’ll start up.”

Something flashed on the computer screen. Rama smiled. “The announcement.”

A loud buzzing filled the room, as it did the entire city. It was piercing enough that even those soldiers fighting on the border of GD and CoT were forced to halt their assaults in mid-combat—a bizarre sight.

The buzzing turned to words. “GREETINGS, CITIZENS OF BZ-METRU AND THE BIONICLE ZONE REPUBLIC. I AM DIMENSIONEER. LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS. I HAVE KILLED THE LEADER OF THE BZR, NINJO, AND MAHALIS HAS SUED FOR PEACE. THE TWO NATIONS WILL BE JOINED TOGETHER UNDER MY RULE. MAKE AMMENDS WITH YOUR BRETHREN. THE COUNTRY IS WHOLE ONCE MORE. THERE WILL BE NO MORE FIGHTING FOR THE SAKE OF BORDERS. AS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THERE HAS BEEN MUCH INFRASTRUCTURE DAMAGE TO THE COUNTRY. THEREFORE IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THIS”

“Cut it off!” yelled Dimensioneer.

Rama quickly typed a brief phrase into a code box. The voice was cut off between “ann” and “ouncement.”

“Why’d you do that?”

Dimensioneer slammed his fist down on the desk. “Because… I don’t know when we can run Dume. In case you haven’t realize we’re still short one man. Who’s the officer below him?”

Rama shrugged. “Bfahome, I guess?”

“Call him!”

Rama reached into the pocket of his long, black coat to grab his cellphone—but stopped when he saw something pop up on the computer screen. “Someone’s coming!”

“Don’t shoot, it might be him. Even if it isn’t, don’t do anything unless I tell you,” said Dimensioneer, seeing Rama reach into his coat for a gun. The administrator stood, facing the door of the underground chamber.

Footsteps. Voices. The door unlocked and creaked open to reveal Black Six, Toaraga, and Dimensioneer.

All five men in the room stood dumbfounded, shocked over who they had found.

Black Six was the first to speak. “Dimensioneer? Did you really…”

“Yes, yes, I killed him,” said Dimensioneer, praying that Rama would follow his lead. “The war is over.”

“Did you get Mahalis too?” asked Toaraga. “On our way here we found his body… it looked like he had tried to escape, he was so far away from the battle.”

Dimensioneer struggled to keep his composure. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…” He gulped. “Didn’t you hear the announcement? He sued for peace. Probably some fanatic.”

Black Six shook his head. “We found him before the announcement…” He stopped when he noticed Rama Swarm for the first time. “Dimensioneer… what is he doing here?”

At that moment, Dimensioneer realized that he could no longer keep up the charade. His excuses were flimsy, and Black Six he could tell was beginning to put two and two together.

“I’m sorry I have to do this, Binkmeister. You were a good friend,” he said. He waved his arm. The weapons held by the three men became heavy and fell to the ground, broken. In his long career as Admin he had learned how to harness his Administrative power to extents only imaginable to others.

“But I will have no flaws in my plans.”

In one spontaneous motion he dramatically poised both hands toward Binkmeister, who was thrown back by a jet of eerie blue light. It only took seconds—but even that was long enough for the image of Binkmeister writhing in pain on the floor to forever etch itself into Toaraga and Six’s minds.

“Did you—did you just…” stuttered Toaraga, staring in shock at the body beside him.

“He has been banned from BZ-Metru. He may never set foot inside the city walls again. Do not fear for him. He was always a resourceful man, I’m sure he will find some other country to inhabit. Now as for you two,” said Dimensioneer, noting the fear on each’s expression, “I give to you a choice. It’s an easy choice. Either go back up to the city, or die.”

Rama Swarm cocked his gun, which he had withdrawn from his coat. Six took the only chance he perceived he had—in the same gesture as Dimensioneer had made, he pointed both hands at the other admin. Toaraga cringed, expecting the same blue light.

But nothing happened.

Dimensioneer laughed. Rama Swarm smiled. “Do you really think we would be that unprepared, Six?” said Dimensioneer. “We knew that you two posed a threat to us. It was only him,” he nodded to Binkmeister, “whom we didn’t expect. As of this morning, you were stripped of your administrative power.”

Black Six suddenly felt very small. He looked at Toaraga, whose expression conveyed that he shared Six’s thoughts.

“But… why?” he whispered.

Dimensioneer smiled again. “My dear Six—why in the world should I tell you that? You are trying my patience already. I will give you ten seconds to make your choice. Ten…”

Six looked at Toaraga. He nodded.

“Nine…”

Rama cocked his gun again, smiling.

“Eight…”

Six turned back to Dimensioneer. Perhaps if he attacked one the other would be distracted long enough for Toaraga to act…

“Stop.”

And stop they did. As Bfahome’s had been to Mahalis, this voice was horrifying to hear. But not because it was unexpected. Not because it was hoarse or painful.

But because the person who had just spoken was dead.

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[Snoopy82]

The BZ-Metru Story, Finale
This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
Winston Churchill

This would have been the most opportune moment for Black Six to strike. Rama had stepped backward, his gun lowered. Dimensioneer was obviously in no state of mind to fight back—across his face was etched a flushed look of horror.

The man standing before them wore black. In his hands, aimed at Dimensioneer, was a new AK47. His clothes were not ripped, nor bloody, nor did they show signs of wear whatsoever. His faced was completely shaved, and gone were the familiar bags and bloodshot eyes that had dogged his face. He had never, thought Six, looked better in his life. It was as if he had been completely reborn.

“Dimensioneer, how good to see you again,” he said. Dimensioneer took a step back.

“No… you… I shot you!” he screamed, his voice filled with fear.

“You are mistaken, Dimensioneer,” said Ninjo, walking further into the room. He nodded at Black Six and Toaraga as he stopped next to them. “Hello, gentlemen. But yes, just as with so much else you are mistaken. You did not kill me. You killed your idea of me.”

“But… what?” whispered Dimensioneer.

Ninjo smiled. “You remember, of course, six long years ago when you infected and suspended me. You thought you had gained total control of me—again, you were wrong. The virus you gave me never truly took hold. My true self was always there, helplessly watching your creation carry out your madness. I began to fight back. I was losing that fight. And then you shot me.”

Toaraga glanced at Six, whose vacant expression gave evidence that he was just as clueless.
Ninjo continued. “Or rather, you shot your virus. You killed your own creation. With it gone I was free at last to take control of my facilities once more. And now I am here to end this madness.”

He fired toward Rama and Dimensioneer, both of whom dove behind Dimensioneer’s desk. Rama began to return fire, which prompted the remaining three to jump behind the server. There was brief silence. Ninjo handed his gun to Toaraga.

“Take out Rama. I’ll handle Dimensioneer. You,” he nodded to Six, handing him a knife from within his coat, “take him out while he’s distracted.”

Six and Toaraga nodded. Ninjo stood and walked out from behind the server. He deflected gunshots—his administrative power having not been removed—with a wave of his hand. “Come out, coward, and fight me face to face!”

The two still behind the server heard a furious yell and an explosion as they were temporarily blinded by a bright flash. They inched over to the other side—but they were met by a furry of gunshots. Rama was waiting for them.

“Fire at him. Cover me,” said Toaraga. He leaned out and fired. Six ducked out and crouched under a desk that was built into the wall. About fifty feet in-front of him he could see Rama, likewise crouched under a desk. The row of desk’s against the side wall extended until it reached the corner, where there was a gap.

Another explosion rocked the chamber. Six knew he had to hurry. He crawled along under the desks, feeling shrapnel and debris hitting his right side. He didn’t know if it was from Ninjo and Dimensioneer or if Rama had begun firing at him.

He reached the end of the wall. Rama was now merely ten feet away from him, oblivious due to the noise of his own gun. Six knew he only had one shot. He lunged forward at Rama. He landed on top of him, but the knife missed. Rama reacted by swiping his gun at Six. Both the gun and the knife went flying—it would now be a fist fight.

Toaraga had stopped firing, for fear that he might now hit Six. Rama swung a punch at Six, knocking him off of him. Six leapt to his feet and reached for the knife, mere feet from where he stood—but Rama was too fast. He too stood and punched Six square in the head. Six yelled as he felt his jaw snap, and Rama clutched his hand. Six took the brief opportunity to kick the knife to Toaraga before he lunged at and grabbed Rama’s arms.

They struggled, each grappling for the upper hand—then Six saw his opportunity. He thrust all his weight into Rama, forcing his opponent back… straight into the knife, held by Toaraga.
Rama’s eyes widened. He stumbled a few feet to the server, and, with a horrific smile, slumped across the server keyboard. On the screen a command prompt appeared. When Toaraga and Six walked over to see it, the final pieces of Dimensioneer’s plan became clear.

“Hapori Dume…” whispered Six. “The citizens will recognize Dimensioneer as their leader, remember what Bink said?”

Toaraga nodded grimly. “Take the knife and gun and help Ninjo. I’ll see if I can stop this.”

Black Six took the knife and grabbed Rama’s gun from the ground. He walked in front of the server and found Ninjo and Dimensioneer locked in combat. Blue flames emanated from their hands, each locking in the middle of the room. Chunks of debris lay on the ground around them. A ring of fire surrounded Ninjo, and a greenish tint surrounded Dimensioneer. Six tried firing at Dimensioneer, but the green haze deflected them.

Six looked over to Ninjo, who returned the gaze. That split second of lost concentration allowed Dimensioneer’s flames to overcome Ninjo. He was thrown backward. He began to writhe, just as had Binkmeister.

Shock paralyzed Six—but as he stood in pure disbelief he acted. He felt as though he were not acting of his own accord, but as though he were independent of himself. In a rush of anger, sorrow, and pure rage, he lunged forward.

Dimensioneer was caught completely off guard, being so driven to finish of Ninjo. Two blows from the knife—one to the heart, one to the stomach—felled the administrator. Dimensioneer fell dead. The flames, the tint, and the blue glow disappeard. There was silence.

Bloody, sweaty, and chest heaving, Six dropped the knife and stumbled to Ninjo. He was still breathing, but he had been assaulted long enough that he was beyond hope. With tear-filled eyes he looked up at Six, no longer as enemies but once again as old friends.

“Six…”

Six looked down at the man who had been his friend and mentor. His eyes teared as well. Ninjo spoke.

“I’m sorry for everything I did. I can only hope that this makes up for it all. Death… is the just payment for my crimes.” He struggled for breathe between words.

Six shook his head. “No… it was none of your fault… you were…”

But Ninjo had breathed his last. Six lowered his head.

“SIX!”

Six slowly rose and limped to Toaraga, who was still at the server keyboard.

“Well?”

Toaraga shook his head grimly. “This is beyond anything I know. There’s no way to stop it.”
Six slumped into a chair. “There’s no need to. It is what has to be done, Toaraga. The people of BZ-Metru have seen what no one should ever have to see. We have to stay here. We have to lead them to
a better future.” He dropped his head into his hands.

Toaraga opened his mouth to speak, but thought it better to stay silent and sit. The server started buzzing, softly at first before crescendoing into a deafening roar. It would only take minutes, Six reasoned, for Hapori Dume to do its work.

Necessary work. After almost two years of endless war, endless death, and endless despair… there was no other way to go on. Anyone who suffered as BZ-Metru had could not go on, could not shove its problems under the rug. The past must be forgotten This was the only way for all to be made right. The city would be reborn. The world would go on. Peace would once again reign, the Great Civil War nothing but a distant memory…

With only Black Six and Toaraga to shoulder its misery.

The server started to glow ominously. Six held his head up and waited. He was thrown backwards by a deafening explosion. A great blinding light filled his eyes, which quickly faded into overwhelming darkness, and Black Six knew no more.

THE END

Edited by Snoopy82, Oct 22 2011 - 09:09 PM.