A thousand specks of green light moved all across the screen, each representing a Matoran occupying themselves somewhere in the City of Legends.
It watched all of these specks with interest, sending rapid commands to the Vahki forces all across the city. Short and curt orders were issued such as "pacify" or "neutralize" and still it watched the specks--some being pursued by other specks, these marked in red.
Vahki. It paused a moment, allowing itself the respite of running only a few thousand processes. It hadn't felt this way in such a long time--it 'remembered' the formation of the Vahki. Remembered when Turaga Dume had first drafted the designs for his mechanical enforcers, and remembered the groups of Matoran who dismissed the idea entirely.
"This is hardly feasible, Turaga" snorted one Onu Metru engineer. "Without a central controlling processor this plan is the stuff of dreams!"
It remembered the Turaga's expression that day. Not anger or even disappointment, simply a deep, thoughtful consideration, tinged with sadness. It remembered how his aged voice cracked when he spoke next.
"Our city is being overrun with crime…with disease…with violence," he said slowly. "And the Toa are too busy fighting off every creature in the surrounding area to even be bothered to care!" he shouted, his aged eyes flaring with anger.
"Let me ask you, all of you," he said, flinging his arms wide to indicate the entire room, "what use is saving a city when its people are already lost?"
A persistent beeping brought it out of its reverie. A new colour had appeared on the screen, this one marked in the vibrant blue of a Toa. It felt something like anger welling up in it, and before could consciously send the command, hundreds of Vahki were woken from storage and sent to deal with the interloper to its city--to the Turaga's city.
It--the Matoran once known as Velun--paused a moment, studying the screen carefully inside its cocoon of technology. It remembered the damage done to it by the rogue Toa; remembered the searing agony as half its body was sheared brutally in half. Remembered the looks of shock and anguish on the faces of its compatriots, remembered the face of the Turaga.
It hadn't taken much work to create: a safe point inside the coliseum where the station could be set up, and some minor 'modifications'. Granted, it hardly resembled a Matoran anymore. It hardly felt like a Matoran anymore, either. Velun was a thing of the past--and the Vahki? The Vahki were the future, its future. It and the Vahki were two sides of the same coin.
As if to confirm its thoughts, a second blue dot appeared to help the first escape from the torrential wave of red that swarmed it. With a single thought, more Vahki were dispatched to take care of it.
One directive carried those machines to their destination:
"We are the Vahki. Surrender or Run."
