Stung

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

Footsteps cried out in the night, joining with the unending wailing of the wind and the steady sobbing of the sea. Varying hues of darkness painted the waters, shadows danced across the rocks in the moonlight, and a Matoran, cold, shivering, hurried over the slippery stone.

 

I have to get off this island.

 

He lost his footing and slid down a boulder and stumbled on again.

 

We should never have come here.

 

His breathing came in ragged gasps. The salty sting of the ocean air burned at his eyes and in his throat, the wind tried to squeeze all the breath out of him, and the rocks with their slimy surfaces tried to pull his feet out from under him and guide him down, down the cliff face, down into seething waters below.

 

He stopped for a breathless moment, listening. Was that—? Laughter. Was it laughter? He ran faster.

 

If only this Kakama was any good—oh, Karzahni!

 

He stopped dead and fell to his knees, panting, tired, weak. He had a Mask of Power. He had a Kualsi. The Matoran was just sport! And as soon as he was tired of the game, the Matoran would be dead.

 

“I am disappointed in you. I thought you had more spirit in you than that.”

 

The Matoran looked up. A Toa of Iron stood over him, looking down at him with a cold, disdainful glare. Yet behind the Mask of Quick Travel there was a gleam of amusement in the glowing red eyes.

 

“I trusted you,” the Matoran said, “we all trusted you! We were counting on you to protect us, so I helped you—and you’ve betrayed us!”

 

The Toa laughed. “You wish to judge me? Do as you will, I cannot expect you to understand.”

 

“The others will stop you! They’ll find out what you’re up to before—”

 

“The others!” The Toa kicked the Matoran in the mask. He kneeled down, put his hand at his victim’s throat, and smiled. “Clearly I misjudged you. I thought you were more intelligent than the others. I thought it would make matters more exciting to turn your own wits against you. But you have disappointed me. You might be the biggest fool of them all.”

 

With his hands tight around the Matoran’s neck, the Toa lifted his squirming prey into the air. The Matoran squealed in pain and fear.

 

“You think the others will stop me?” said the Toa. “The others think I am dead. The others think I have paid for my crimes, and so I will—when I have seen to it, that you have all paid for yours.” His fingers tightened and the Matoran’s eyes grew larger. “You will be the next to pay. For crimes against the Great Spirit, I hold you guilty. How do you plead?”

 

“Please—don’t—”

 

“I thought as much.”

 

The Toa ripped the Matoran’s mask from his face and hurled the Matoran over the edge and watched as his body plunged into the foam. He thought he heard a crunch as the next wave struck the cliffs, but drowned in the sobs of the sea it might have been anything. He might have imagined it. He had hardly heard the screams.

 

With a sigh, the Toa turned his back on the sea. “Another gone. How disappointing,” he whispered to himself. “Now only five.”

[Aderia]

Hehehehehe! To put this in Bionicle-ese, how "gloriously homicidal"of you. I like stories about corruption and murder. And revenge. And death. Probably why I love The Count of Monte Cristo. But anyways. As a FFC entry I can't complain that this story was too short, but i'd totally love to read more about the crazy murderous Toa.

 

Just one nitpick:

 

 

The others think I have paid for my crimes, and so I will—when I have seen to it, that you have all paid for yours.”

 

No comma between "it" and "that", I'm pretty sure.

 

But yeah, great story, as usual. Highfive!

Edited December 2, 2013 by Aderia