Vice and Virtue

[Gamfa]

Steltian Species hierarchy

 

Nobles (Sidorak's race)

(Lieutenants (Blue and grey beings)

Scientists (Green insect like beings)

 

Military species

Police species

 

Foreign Species

Matoran

Commoners (

 

Damara (low level workers)

Bruisers

Slaves

Untouchables

 

 

VICE AND VIRTUE

 

Chapter One: Two Thieves on the beach

 

~20,000 years ago

A tall, tan armored being, his height stretching almost ten feet in the air sat on a beach. His green eyes surveyed the Southern Steltian coast, taking in the gossamer white sand, clear blue waves, and the dimming of the Steltian Sunstone. From the shore, he could see incoming airships and boats, loading and unloading cargo and travelers on the island. Behind him, a silver and green Gantai crouched down, packing weapons into a sack.

 

 

“Interesting isn’t it, Pabra?” the being said.

 

 

 “What?” said the Gantai.

 

The brown armored being was a Damara named Ryaris, one of the lower species on Stelt. They were ranked right above the bruisers, and two spaces above the slaves. Damara were a unique species, one known for their incredible stamina. They could go for days doing menial labor without food, water and sleep without needing a break. When the hierarchy laws on Stelt went into effect, their race became lower class beings, becoming housekeepers and factory workers, among other jobs.

 

“You can only experience this at night. Night, years ago… that meant crime, violence, muggings, kidnappings… Horrible things happened at night. All heralded by this beauty. I’ve seen this thousands of times; it never gets old.”

 

“Like what we’re going to do?” Pabra asked.

 

“A ship raid isn’t horrible, especially if you’re hired to do it. No one gets killed, though a few of them are going to get pretty banged up. The crew is going to have a deviation of its plans.”

 

Pabra sighed, he picked up the sack, and loaded it into a small speed boat. “There you go on again, about plans and all that nonsense

 

“Everything is planned, my friend,” said Ryaris, “The Great Beings, when they laid the foundation of the Matoran Universe, planned an island located near the center of the Matoran Universe, one with open sea routes, as a universal port. They called it Stelt, translated from an indigenous language: ‘Port of many nations.’ To reflect that, they filled it with a diverse number of different native species; Matoran, bruisers, Damara, slaves, nobles, and such. They sought for the races to live with freedom and equality. The plan has a deviation when one realizes that one species holds all the power and the rest are subservient to them.”

 

Pabra shook his head.

 

“What does that have to do with anything, Ryaris?”

 

 “You asked about what we’re going to do. You never liked doing this, Pabra, I know you too well to doubt that. They were tasked to design and create a free and open society for all beings to trade. Instead they created the most unequal and strict islands in existence. If they can so greatly deviant from their plans… Why does it matter if we do the same?”

 

Pabra walked towards the shore, lightly stepping on the salty sand.

 

 “Shall we get started?” he asked.

 

Ryaris jumped into speed boat, as Pabra pushed it out into the ocean. Ryaris turned on the motor, and headed for the cargo ship. Pabra placed his feet into the tidal water, focusing his muscles. He began jogging in place, warming up his leg muscles, before he took off.

The Gantai species gave its members different powers, depending on the assigned duty they were to fulfill for their society. Pabra was a messenger, given super speed to help in his task. On his native land, Pabra used his abilities to become a smuggler, bringing in contraband to the harsh and oppressive homeland. After years on the wrong side of the law, Pabra was forced to leave three years ago when he was wanted for attempted murder. He fled and came to Stelt, the land where exiles, outcasts and renegades go in need of refuge.  Three years ago, he met Ryaris, a member of a lower species. On Stelt, Ryaris was expected to serve Pabra if he asked him to, no matter what. But in the underworld, what the island was known for, the two were equals. They became criminals for hire, working as thieves for various syndicates.

 

Ryaris turned west, heading towards the ship’s cargo bay where their bounty was. Pabra headed to the ship’s head, leaping from the seas, and crashing into the boat.

 

“Put your hands up!” the Gantai shouted, “No one move! Nobody move!” Pabra said, taking the projectile strapped to his back. The weapon was torn from his hands by a Skakdi’s telekinetic power. The ship’s cockpit popped open, Kanoka disks coming Pabra’s way.

The Skakdi and Steltian crew closed in on Pabra. The Gantai breathed heavily, watching as they all raised their wicked looking weapons. The beings locked their unforgiving eyes on the one who was foolish enough to try and steal from them, never knowing that Ryaris was at work, loading the shipment of Xian weapons into escape pods in the bottom of the ship.

 

The guards were ready to fire, when a silver and green blur dashed around the room. Their weapons vanished from their hands. Pabra stood in the center of the room, with their weapons in hand. 

 

In the bottom of the boat, Ryaris crouched down, planting a small, green cylinder. Ryaris looked at his work, six of these cylinders across the room. They were cyclone bombs, a new weapon developed by the Xians after studying elemental air energy. As their name suggested, when detonated, the bombs would release powerful twisters. Ryaris smiled. He left the room, and entered an escape pod.

 

Above, Pabra was easily fighting off the crew. He dodged energy blasts left and right, his speed powers matching the number and strength of the crew. An electric bolt struck Pabra, and he fell. A bruiser jumped in the air, his hammer-like fists slamming into the ground. The bruiser looked confused, as he peered to see Pabra not beneath him. He heard a rushing sound of air parting, before everything turned white, as Pabra struck the bruiser in the face with a beam he tore from the wall.

 

 Pabra raced around the room, and grabbed the Ga-Matoran captain, throwing her at the head of another bruiser, who fell cold.

Pabra stopped, noticing all that was left was a Vortixx.

 

“You’re not getting away with this, Gantai scum. How dare you come try and steal the weapons I made? Do you have any idea who these weapons are for, Gantai? If we go, we’re taking you with us-“

 

Pabra sped to the Xian, looking him in the eye with the Vortixx.

 

“Gladly!” Pabra grabbed the Xian. The world went to a blur for the Xian as he was grabbed by Pabra. The Gantai took the Vortixx and used him as a battering ram, slamming him into each wall and door in their path.

 

The two burst out the ship, falling into the ocean. The Vortixx was barely conscious as he freely fell into the warm ocean. Pabra flipped in the air as he dropped, focusing his mind. He could feel the dampness of his metallic feet, and then… he took off.

The surrounding sea was lit by the escape pods holding the stolen bounty. Pabra headed in the same direction as Ryaris, as the raced to the shore.

 

Something erupted from the waters. Pabra turned his head to see the ship, with its cannons aimed right at the thieves from the beach.

Ryaris sat in his escape pod, hearing the bullets and bolts ricocheting off the metal plating. He looked up through the window, seeing the waves Pabra made as he seamlessly cut through the water. Ryaris held up a small device, turning its handle.

 

“Get them!” The captain yelled, “Don’t let them out of your sight! Catch them!”

 

“Captain, they are too far too-“

 

“I don’t care, fire everything! I want those yuruzu dead! You hear me! Dea-“

 

A roaring sound of wind exploded from the ship’s cargo bay. The two Matoran turned their heads to see six twenty foot tall tornadoes ripping the ship apart.

 

Thirty minutes later

Pabra and Ryaris stood in a small hut in West Stelt, waiting for the Nynrah Ghost to finish analyzing the weapons supply they just stole.

 

“Okay. That’ll be 200,000 widgets.”

 

The Nynrah Ghost took the weapons and handed over a case filled with widgets, before showing them to the door.

 

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” the Fe-Matoran said, smiling.

 

“He’s a rare one,” said Ryaris, “rare that a Nynrah Ghost is so friendly.”

 

“Where do we go now?” said Pabra.

 

“You and I are both 100 grand  richer. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

 

Review Topic

Edited October 23, 2014 by Gamfa

[Gamfa]

Chapter 2: Possibilities

 

Temple Grounds Station-next stop, Mavrah Street

Finally. Toa Garia sighed as she at last reached her destination. The Toa of Water’s normal commute took her from her home by the Dzuna Street Station to Temple Grounds on the Chute. It was a journey she made every day, which normally took about fifteen minutes, but today it took over an hour, after a Chute Station was closed because of a riot. To make matters worse, the Streets were closed, and she could not walk. Garia had to go around the Chute System to reach work.

 

Garia was rather angry, as she left the Chute and exited down to the street level. Garia never liked having to change her plans, especially for something so trivial. Riots were a common occurrence but she had always been lucky to never have to deal with it.

 

The Mask of Possibilities has failed me today, she thought. She crossed the Street, and passed by the Kini-Raxa, the island’s main temple. The surrounding neighborhood was calle Temple Grounds, a neighborhood filled with Matoran and Turaga, and one of the safest places on Stelt.

Garia walked around the corner to a silver Hau-shaped gate of a small, marble building. The Toa of Water stood in front of the gate:

Scanning. Scanning. Identifying- Toa Stelt Garia.

 

 

The door to the building slid open, and Garia walked through.

 

Inside, a Toa of Magnetism sat at his desk, reading an investigation tablet given to him by the police. His eyes scanned it carefully, studying the image of a seven foot tall, lean, streamlined silver and lime-green Gantai, when he heard the sound of someone coming up the stairs.

 

“She’s here,” he said.

 

“No fair, you can’t use the Mask of Sensory Aptitude, that’s cheating you have to turn it off.”

 

“Sister,” said a Toa of Psionics, “Certainly, you know that mask is always on at a low level.”

 

“And certainly you know that you are an hour late, Garia.”

 

At the front of the room, standing up, giving off an air of incredible discipline and focus was Yunua, Toa Stelt of Earth and leader of the team. He walked over to the Toa of Water with a smile under his Rode.

 

“Let’s get started shall we?”

 

Garia looked around the room. At a desk near the front was Komutu, the second in command of the Toa Stelt. He was a Toa of Ice, known for being unusually extroverted for his type. Across him was Toa Sukama and Toa Vonui, the Toa of Plasma and Lightning. Garia smiled at Vonui as she walked by her, then turned and gave the same smile to Toa Cerelia of Psionics. They were the only other females on the team, and when Garia joined the team, Cerelia and Vonui volunteered to train her. Next to Cerelia was Dero, Toa of Sonics, who, along with Lekenda, the Toa of Air, were busy writing tablets. Finally, his hand lightly patting a seat to his right, indicating it was reserved just for her, was Farun, the Toa of Magnetism. Only one was missing.

 

“Okay, we will brief our sister on the earlier cases later. When you’ve been a Toa for over 80,000 years, you don’t want to lose your place; you will never find it again.”

 

 

The Toa of Earth drank some water and continued, “Last night, a ship was attacked by an unknown assailant. He broke into the ship, attacked the crew, and badly injured several Skakdi, a couple Steltians, and a Ga-Matoran and a Vortixx. He left the ship and ran on water. When the two sole conscious members of the crew tried to shoot at them, six Cyclone Bombs detonated and destroyed the ship. An investigation took place, and it was discovered that some cargo was missing, along with the ship’s escape pods. The Police believe the suspect is either a Gantai, or a Steltian, there is some confusion. Who wants to take it?”

 

“That ship’s been blacklisted,” said Farun.

 

Eight hundred years ago, a deadly turf war between five Steltian crime syndicates came to a peaceful end in a ceasefire known as the Great Partition. The Great Partition called for an end to fighting and divided Stelt into five equal parts, with one syndicate controlling all underworld activities in their region. The Vaza controlled Central, the Mistresses of Xia ruled the north, the Black Rings ruled the east. In the south, the Diama-Nairax Organization had absolute control, and the Western Syndicate, as its name suggested, ruled the west. Since that day, the murdere rate dropped to its lowest point in history, and the island saw relative peace, which allowed this particular Toa Stelt team to be the longest serving in Steltian history, having been fully operational and active for 800 years.

 

The Toa had an unwritten rule for investigating certain crimes involving syndicates. Having Toa to protect the public was always a benefit, one that could be taken away by one of the syndicates. Toa Yunua set up a system to determine which crimes could and could not be investigated; it was important the Toa not appear to invade in the tumultuous peace among the syndicates. 

 

 

 “Farun, for Artahka’s sake,” said Vonui, “Everything is blacklisted, or closed, or a waste of our time, can we at least pick something.”

 

“I think,” Dero said in an almost whisper, “We have nothing to do.”

Yunua looked confused. He couldn’t remember the last time there was nothing the Toa needed to do. Yunua shrugged and turned.

 

“I guess we can sit here, maybe something will come up. You all are to go outside but please try not to leave the Temple Grounds.”

 

“I have something,” a yellow and red Toa of fire, wearing a Kualsi said, in Yunua’s ear.

 

“Mata Nui, Takako, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Yunua said.

 

 

“Five more times. That should be enough.”

 

“What do you have for us?” asked Cerelia.

 

Takako lifted up a tablet.

 

“Yesterday, break in at a healing station in Central. The usual stuff that’s taken, medical supplies, anesthetics, and something else which is currently unknown. Our friend in the unit is going to hold the scene, and then we can access it tonight.”

 

Yunua looked at Takako, and turned to the other Toa. The Toa of Fire vanished, and appeared next to Farun and Garia.

 

“Farun, Garia, you and the fire spitter will go do the investigation later.”

 

The Toa nodded, but Garia looked perplexed, and faced Takako “You do understand that we still don’t have anything to do in the meantime?” said Garia.

 

 “Oh I never said I had something right now,” said Takako.

 

Cerelia shook her head, “Sister, what have Vonui and I taught you about the subtleties of language?” she said laughing

 

Yunua sat in his chair, reading a tablet, smiling beneath his mask as he watched his team  laugh and joke for a few minutes.

 

They have no idea how lucky they are.

 

South Stelt

A twenty foot concrete wall stretched around a compound, the top covered with Zakaz dagger plants and vines that secreted acid on touch. Inside the compound, a Skakdi of Ice named Nairax, donning ivory white and sand blue armor, sat on a throne, favoring the throne of a Zakaz warlord. Around the room sat two beings, one pitch black and robbed. To his left was a shorter, muscular gunmetal grey being. The two were Commander Shadow and Lieutenant Dread. Across from them sat a Ce-Matoran by the name of Aysu. Aysu was the advisor and confidant of Nairax, and perhaps the most trusted being in the whole room.

 

Nairax’s burning red eyes turned down the table, across from him. There sat a Steltian, a member of the ruling class, clad head to toe in shining silver armor. Before, in an earlier age, he was a being named Platorak, a noble down on his luck and reduced to poverty. Nairax found him, and made him his second in command. Since that day, he was known as General Silver.

 

Nairax was the leader of the Diama-Nairax Organization, ruling over all the crime in Southern Stelt. For the past month, his syndicate has had numerous shipments stolen from them. One month ago, a weapons shipment vanished as it was arriving on the Chute from Xia to Stelt. Then, the next week, a slave ship carrying wards to be sold to an arena vanished. It resurfaced four days later with no slaves. Commander Shadow, one of Nairax’s most disciplined soldiers, found the slaves in an arena in west Stelt, sold for twice what the Organization would have got.

 

The last two weeks showed the most blatant disrespect of the Organization. Three more weapons were stolen, one happening just yesterday. To make matters worse, many of his men found themselves harassed as they entered Western Stelt, complaining about the Western Syndicate shouting obscenities at them. Then there was the leader of the Western Syndicate, a Ko-Matoran named Sawandu, who came to the south, uninvited, to negotiate a deal with a corner crew, just a few blocks from Nairax’s compound. A highly disrespectful act, in Nairax’s eyes.

 

“Today, I have announced the plan of action to deal with these trying times. We are reaching a level of increased tensions between our brothers in the west not seen since before the Great Partition. As I promised yesterday, I will give a final decision on how to respond. We are not going to retaliate.”

 

Only one being frowned at Naira’s announcement: General Silver

 

“You are dismissed,” said Nairax.

 

Aysu, Commander Shadow, and Lieutenant Dread left the building and exited the compound. General Silver walked up to Nairax.

 

“’Not going to retaliate?” asked General Silver, “After how they disrespected our Organiza-“

 

“My organization,” Nairax said sternly, “You talk of disrespect, but perhaps you are the disrespectful one, Platorak.”

 

General Silver shook his head. Nairax walked up a flight of stairs, with his second in command strolling behind him.

 

“I meant no disrespect, leader,” General Silver hated when he had to call him that to remain in good graces. Nairax was less a leader, and more an obstruction in the General’s mind, too willing to compromise for Silver’s taste.”

 

“Platorak, if we strike at the Western Syndicate, what do you believe will happen? Do you think they will surrender from a show of might? That they will cower as we gallantly ride in to the west? No brother, they will fight back.”

 

“You want us to become the laughing stock of the syndicates? To become weak and pitied as they take our money from our land?”

 

“I don’t want to have to appease those Piraka, that scum. But we have no choice. You and your kind, you thrive on war, and you want war, that is all you will get: war. My people were destroyed by war, by fighting, Platorak. You have seen nothing of it yet; so don’t go out looking for it.” He said with every ounce of sternness his voice could muster.

 

“What happens when they escalate, Nairax? What happens then? What happens when, Mata Nui forbid, one of us is gunned down? If one of us is kidnapped?”

 

“Then we will strike. The Western Syndicate would have made their bed at that point, and we will respond justly. But there is a saying; don’t start a fire then complain when your home burns down.”

 

Nairax entered his private quarters, and shut the door behind him. 

 

Review Topic

Edited October 23, 2014 by Gamfa

[Gamfa]

Chapter Three: Shattered Glass

 

Takako crouched over a pile of broken glass, a small flame lighting the room for him. Garia was busy talking to a witness, who heard the sound of broken glass, but was too afraid to look out her window. Farun was somewhere else in the clinic, looking for clues to lead them to a suspect.

 

Farun came from the corner and approached the Toa of Fire.

 

“Whoever did this did a bad job of entering, but an expert job at escaping,” Takako said.

 

Farun went to examine the broken window which the thieves used to enter.

 

“When they broke in, a silent alarm went off and notified the police. They got here in four minutes to an empty building with millions of widgets worth of equipment gone.”

 

“Not to mention biomedical waste.”

 

“Is that what they took?” Garia asked from across the room. Farun nodded. Garia asked if she saw anyone carrying what appeared to be trash, to which she shook her head.

 

“I doubt it was a petty thief who did this.” said Takako.

 

“Maybe it was someone with ties to the Brotherhood. They’re the only ones who would have use for used up syringes and contaminated viral samples.”

 

“The Makuta of Stelt, among other things, is the head of the Brotherhood Infectious Diseases Unit. If he wanted waste to go look for a virus, I’m sure he would have had any easier way to get it.”

 

“How about Dark Hunters?” asked Garia.

 

“That’s what I was thinking initially,” said Farun, “But I’d hate to think what the Shadowed One would do with hazardous waste at his disposal. Hmm… What do you think Takako,” he turned to face his brother. Takako wasn’t there. At the corner of his eye, a yellow and red figure suddenly appeared.

 

“Mata Nui! How many times do we have to tell you not to do that?”

 

“It amuses me, brother. You Magnetic types are usually so stoic; it’s fun to see a little bit of fear in your eyes,” said Takako flashing a wicked smile.

 

“Pray a Matoran doesn’t see this, brother,” said Garia, “I’d truly hate for you to be reduced to desk duty.”

 

“I’d expect that from an air type,” said Farun. Takako headed for the door.

 

“He’s so immature,” said Farun.

 

“He is entertaining,” said Garia, patting Farun on the shoulder, “And he is one of our best investigators.”

 

Farun had to give Takako credit. Whenever Farun reached a dead end in an investigation, Takako was the one who always found the missing piece of the puzzle. Farun, most of the time, did not even have to ask; Takako had an almost preternatural sense of when the Toa of Magnetism needed him. But Takako was known for his sense of humor and his flashy style, something that Farun, who hailed from a conservative and humble Fa-Koro found too unorthodox for his taste.

 

 

“At least we got somewhere,” said Garia, “Tomorrow we’ll just have to-“

 

“Shhhh” said Farun. Takako turned and teleported to his teammates.

 

“What’s going on?” asked Takako.

 

“I’m hearing something from next door.” He said, his  mask of sensory aptitude shining.

 

A tall, ebony armored Vanreza, with 9 thin horns at each side of his head jutting back, carefully carried a stack of black Protosteel, airtight boxes from the basement of a small warehouse, next to the healing facility. He set them on the ground gently, hoping not to shatter its contents.

 

“Freeze,” said Garia, pointing her Deep Sea Trident at the Vanreza. By her side was Farun, his Magna Axe and Blaster at the Toa. Takako teleported behind the Vanreza, with his Flame Claw burning with energy.

 

The Vanreza raised his hands. There was something small in his hands, something shining.

 

“Put it down, Vanreza,” said Farun. The Vanreza smiled, as electric bolts shot out of the device, striking Farun and Takako. The Vanreza fired more electric bolts at Garia, who blocked them with a blast of water.

 

Garia looked at the ground beneath the Vanreza, focusing the moisute in the air at that point, forcing water to explode beneath the the assailant.

 

He shot up several feet in the air. Garia created a jet of water at the Vanreza, slamming him against the wall.

 

She pointed her Water Cannon at him, “I said freeze! Drop you weapons, now!”

 

The Vanreza dropped the small dagger like weapon and smiled.

 

“Why are you smiling?”

 

“Could you move a little to the left?” he asked, “I want to make sure your friend is still okay.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Garia, no!”

 

Garia heard a beeping noise, and then an explosion of fire erupted. Garia closed her eyes, bracing herself to be injured by the flames- when Takako transported himself in front of the flames, absorbing the blast into himself.

Takako gasped. He never had to absorb so much heat and fire at one time before. It was strange, a Toa with so much experience, feeling something he never felt before.

Farun magnetized the floor around the Vanreza and he fell.

 

“What was that?!” asked Garia

 

“What?”

 

“You had him, you could have easily pinned him down as soon as you saw he had something in his hand, Farun.”

 

“I’m sorry I-“

 

Garia frowned beneath her mask, “You have to be quick with these things. You could have been killed by that shock. All of us could have.”

 

“Guys, I think you all should take a look at this,” said Takako.

 

“Did you cuff him?” asked Garia.

 

“Yes- But that’s not the problem.”

 

The two Toa looked at the Vanreza, who was covered in marking and carvings depicted various crimes the being one committed. Around his heart light and eye was a v, stylized. They saw a trademark member of the Vaza

 

Farun examined the boxes. “It’s made of Protosteel. The Toa manipulated his magnetic abilities and unlocked the box. He saw small crystal vials.

 

“They’re viruses.”

 

Garia and Takako looked at the Toa, with a look of panic in the Toa of Water’s eyes.

 

“What are the Vaza planning to do with these viruses?”

 

The Vanreza began laughing, “You’re dead, Toa? You know that? Dead, all of you.”

 

None of the Toa Stelt slept for long that night. 

Edited October 23, 2014 by Gamfa

[Gamfa]

Chapter four: Flight

 

Nairax was unable to sit still in his Airship flying over South Stelt. He paced across his small suite on the ship, occasionally stopping to look out the window to look at the busy streets below. During the day, vendors would make shop out here and at night, occasional, people would gather to party and watch arena fights.  Nairax usually took solace from a flight, especially since it was just him and the captain, who was busy in the cockpit. Nairax had too much on his mind, and his worry had robbed him of that peace. It was unheard of for a syndicate boss to show emotional vulnerability in public, but Nairax wished he had someone to talk about his worries. Anxiety was beginning to take hold, and Nairax had no means of dealing with it.

 

Nairax was once a powerful and wealthy figure on Zakaz, known for settling even the bitterest feuds on the island during its golden age. But when Makuta Spiriah came to the island and experimented with the natives, the population soon had a newfound lust for blood. War flourished, and Nairax, one of the few with control over his increasing aggression, was forced to leave after a ceasefire he tried to implement failed. He came to Stelt, leading a legitimate life for six months. But when the Skakdi began craving the lifestyle of affluence he had back home, he soon found that crime was the only means to regain it.

 

Nairax became a smuggler, bringing in weapons and slaves from his native land, using what little loyalties he had left, and became rich selling them on the black market. Nairax and his crew soon gathered the attention of Vaza, Dark Hunters, Makuta, Toa… and a man named Diama

Diama was a Straza, a species that had been at war with neighboring Matoran for as long as anyone could remember. Turaga sent Matoran fighters into the Straza homeland, where they defeated by Straza assassins and guerillas. Diama was one such assassin, leaving his life as a poor fruit farmer to become of the best warriors the Straza had known. However, the Turaga struck back, sending Toa into the land. What resulted was a brutal war that killed thousands of Straza, and tens of thousands more fleeing. Diama was among those who fled. Diama became a crime boss, one who supplied the south with gambling, moonshine, and other immoralities. He was also known as a brutal man, his foot soldiers razing through anyone who dared challenge his authority.

 

At one point, the two met, and thus the Diama-Nairax Organization was born. In honor of their military backgrounds, they gave each member a rank, and often thought of their cartel as more of an army than a syndicate.

 

Nairax watched as countless syndicates rose and fell over the course of many millennia. The Organization was one of just five who stood the test of time. The syndicate had street corners and vice dens strewn throughout Stelt, mostly concentrated in the south. However, tensions began rising when each syndicate accused the others of encroaching in their territory, and war broke out.

 

Not to say Nairax was unprepared for the war; his minions weren’t just soldiers in name only. They were trained as warriors, prepared for an armed conflict such as this. However, their military prowess was insufficient. The organization lacked the Vortixx weapons of the Mistresses of Xia, the sheer size of the Vaza, the cunning of the West, and the political connections of the Black Rings. The war quickly came to a stalemate, which drove up the civilian loss of life.

 

During the four years of war, some twenty thousand civilians would perish, along with untold numbers of gangsters and Dark Hunters. The fighting was spread throughout Stelt, but no other place was it as extreme as southwest Stelt, where the Diama-Nairax Organization and the Western Syndicate engaged in constant battle.

 

Nairax remembered the two worst weeks of fighting in southwest Stelt. Diama went to visit veterans of the Matoran-Straza war who came to the island. Western Syndicate thugs were there, and ambushed him. Diama was nearly killed in the assassination attempt. Two days later, while still hospitalized, he ordered his best fighters to enter the west and eliminate the Syndicate’s leadership. They were pushed south, and for two weeks, the region was embroiled in constant fighting. The conflict even spilled into Nairax’s home, where he saw his personal assistant kidnapped before him. The next morning, his dead, chopped remains were scattered across Nairax’s compound.

 

There was no end in sight for the conflict. The Turaga of Metru-Nui even sent airships and Toa to evacuate Matoran who lived there. The Makuta of Stelt, a man who witnessed countless labs and lairs destroyed in fighting, ordered the sides to meet in his base and negotiate a ceasefire. Diama and Nairax both attended the meeting, along with the Vaza leaders’ inner circle, Sawandu, the Western Syndicate boss, Obsidian, the leader of the Black Rings, and the Mistresses of Xia. They were in the lair for some ten hours, with all beings in the room agreeing to divide Stelt into five territories: with the exception of Diama. As a result, the Organization had to abstain from making a final decision.

 

After the meeting, Nairax pleaded with Diama to change his mind. The two had a bitter argument, one ripe with obscenities, insults, and threats of a schism. The Makuta would have none of that, and would always summon the delegates back to his home to renegotiate. And each time, Diama refused to agree to the terms.

 

The other four crime syndicates grew war-weary, and began making threats if the Organization did not agree to the truce. Nairax began fearing for his life, as he watched Diama’s self-destructive stubbornness endanger everything the two had worked so hard for. Nairax was considering betraying Diama to the Makuta, or defecting and joining another syndicate. He had close ties to both the Vaza and the Black Rings; perhaps they would take him in.

 

Nairax found that he had no need to act, for fate would act on his behalf. Diama realized he was no longer safe on Stelt, and fled to Metru Nui, the one place he felt no one would try looking for him. As soon as he arrived, he tried to recreate the vice dens he set up back home, and created a gambling ring in Po-Metru, and hired Le-Matoran to smuggle contraband into the city. Diama, however, underestimated the determination and resolve of the Matoran to maintain their standard of living, and was turned into the authorities. He was jailed somewhere deep in the Archives, awaiting action by Turaga Dume. The Turaga found himself in a troubling predicament. Diama could not stay in Metru-Nui; once word got out where he was, those loyal to him would try and free him. On the other hand, if he was sent back, he would probably be killed upon arrival.  

 

The night before Dume’s decision, however, someone entered Diama’s cell and captured him, leaving only a message.

 

“Friends of Mata Nui have taken him. No worries, he will not be killed”

 

Nairax was now the de facto leader of the organization, with absolute power over all decisions and affairs. The next day, he agreed to the truce, and the Great Partition went into effect. Nairax was praised by all sides for ending the war; all sides except his own.

 

Lieutenant Dread and Commander Shadow did not like having to agree to the ceasefire, but did so, with every shed of loyalty they could muster. Aysu made no outward complaint to the Great Partition, but she even brought her concerns to Nairax. “Do you know how it looks to agree to this a day after Diama’s disappearance?” But she swore loyalty to the Organization’s leadership. It was General Silver that Nairax had always hated the Partition.

 

General Silver was once Platorak, the only red armored noble that found himself in debt and poverty that Nairax had ever heard of. Platorak was a young being, outcast by his kind, desperate for money. Nairax brought him in front of Diama, who took an immediate liking to him. They two sides of the same widget: headstrong, boisterous, and ambitious.

 

Nairax gave a sigh of fatigue and surrender. He was tired, tired of war, and those who promote it for their own gain. Nairax’s face was by the window, so deeply enveloped in his own thought.

 

Nairax swore. He looked around the ground, not seeing the hustle and bustle of Central Stelt. No, Nairax looked to see the Matoran filled slums trademark of West Stelt.

 

Nairax grabbed his blade and went to go speak to the captain. The captain was one of many Matoran who fled the city during its civil war. Most went back once the war ended, but a few found themselves in poverty, debt, or crime, and were never able to leave. His pilot was a little bit of all three.

 

“Why are we in West Stelt?!” he asked the Le-Matoran.

 

“Detour,” he responded.

 

“There’s no detour! I was cleared for a direct fli-“

 

Nairax’s eyes saw a green flash, before he was struck by something. He fell to the floor, his muscles suddenly becoming immobile. The Le-Matoran captain walked to Nairax, his armor turning black and his eyes turning red. His frame stretched rapidly, becoming seven feet. His arms grew bat-like wings on them. The Skakdi needed no introduction to who this being was.

 

Triglax

 

“The ruler of Stelt’s southern coast now helpless and alone. But given enough time, all kings fall,” said Triglax, reciting a Skakdi saying.

 

Triglax ripped the control panel of the ship. The humming sound of Kanoka disks bouncing off one another went mute, and the ship started to drop. Triglax flew to a corner of the room, tearing open an oxygen canister.

 

“I hope you know this wasn’t personal before you die, Nairax,” Triglax said as he flew out of the ship’s escape hatch.

 

The airship crashed into flames in a small market place in west Stelt. The explosion was heard for mios, and Matoran and other species rushed with sand bags and water buckets to put out the fire. Two Ko-Matoran stood, their eyes fixed on the wreckage. They both understood what had happened on that ship.

 

“Nairax was killed on our territory, Bramba,” the older Ko-Matoran spoke softly.

 

“What do we do, Boss?”

 

The Ko-Matoran looked to the ground with a hardened look underneath his Kanohi.

 

“Go tell the others in the Syndicate what has happened,” Sawandu said, “Tell them that war is coming.”

Edited October 25, 2014 by Gamfa

[Gamfa]

Chapter five: Mourning

It was a rare occasion to see so many top Vaza bosses in one place. Custom which became an unwritten protocol forbade more than six Vaza leaders from gathering in the same place. It brought unwanted attention, which opened them up to attack and arrest. But there were times when the situation called for a break in the rules, like when a leader of a syndicate died. And given the way Nairax died, no one would dare try and attack them in an Airship.

 

Southern Stelt was a sharp contrast to the hustle and bustle of the more developed Central City. The Vaza boss codenamed the Warlord looked over the markets and slums of the south where Nairax and Diama ruled their organization. Now, it seemed that General Silver would be at the helm of the powerful Syndicate.

 

The Warlord swore under his breath at the thought of that. Though none of the Vaza would say it out loud, they hated General Silver. When negotiations for the ceasefire and the partition were under way, Diama was at one point willing to concede with Nairax, and sign the agreement. He would have too, had the Steltian not called him to conference in the hall of the Brotherhood Base, where the two had a brief conversation. What they said is unknown to anyone but the two, but the Straza returned and demanded the Organization leave, swearing and cursing at the assembled beings, though he stopped shorty of cussing out the Makuta of Stelt. Later that evening, two Vaza, one the Warlord himself brought from Zakaz, were ambushed outside a tavern. No one was ever caught, but everyone knew that was General Silver’s style to attack on the home turf.

 

The Warlord turned away from the window, with a frown wrought with disgust. He turned to see a Turga of Fire, covered head to toe in Vaza markings with a Le-Matoran at his side. The Elder was playing with a stone carving of a Toa of Earth.

 

“Yunua, Toa of Earth, who learned from the mistakes of the past so he could create a better future. I wonder which of his team he will see parish first.”

 

The Turaga was named Maxis, something that was common knowledge in the world, though only those with a suicide wish would dare call him that. He was known by most as the Elder, and despite his age, was one of the cruelest and deadliest gangsters of all time. He had a private detail of Dark Hunters who carried out assassinations and kidnappings on his behalf, as he relaxed at his estate in the Temple Grounds.

Maxis looked at the statue, burning it.

 

“The Toa Stelt, silently agreeing to stay out of our business, to watch over the safety of the Matoran. If only they knew Matoran weren’t so innocent.” Maxis said, shaking his head. To his left sat the Veteran, a Le-Matoran who fought in Civil War of Metru Nui. It was by mere chance that he had been detained in an enemy camp the day before the Archives Massacre, and was spared. However, he was released to a society unforgiving of his crimes, and was unable to assimilate back into Metru-Nui. He came to Stelt, where the Vaza took him in. He was now one of their top figures.

 

“The Toa did not even keep their arrangement,” the Veteran said, shaking his head, “They had the audacity to attack one of our boys.”

 

“What we are going to do for the next few weeks does not need attention from Toa,” the Warlord said, “In the coming weeks, they will be out in the open, trying to stop tensions from rising. That’s when we strike.”

 

Three Mistresses of Xia stood in the yard of Nairax’s compound. One Vortixx looked around, her eyes darting back and fourth among the crowd. The other Vortixx had their eyes locked on a male Xian, with Vaza markings.

 

“Disgusting!” one of them said, never taking her burning, hateful eyes off the man.

 

“”You know what his name is? The Gunsmith; that’s what they call him. Apparently, after breaking the laws and leaving his land, he went to those Nynrah Ghosts to learn weapons making.”

 

“Traitor. How is even allowed to live here? I thought we had a deal with Steltians signed millennia ago.”

 

“You know how lazy and corrupt the Steltians are; he probably had the Elder bribe them.”

 

“Kamba, are you seeing this?” one of them said to the Vortixx who seemed lost in the crowd.

 

“Oh-Oh I’m sorry sister. You know I don’t do well in crowds” Kamba responded. The Vortixx kept looking over her soldier, at the wall behind her. She knew, each time she turned her head, that only the wall was there, no beings suddenly popping out. She knew that… and still she turned ever three minutes of so, just make sure.

 

“No worries sister. We apologize for this, but sending only two mistresses to the funeral of a boss would have been disrespectful. You know, formalities. Sadly, everyone else was busy. Shall we go view the body?”

 

Kamba and the two other Mistresses walked into the central building of the compound, which was surprisingly empty for a room that held the body of such an important being. Skakdi warlords were the only beings in sight, paying tribute to their fallen warrior. To the side stood a black armored titan, with some twelve of the deadliest Dark Hunters surrounding him. On his right hand was one single ring, black as the night sky. The ring was a beautiful piece of art, with a black jewel in the middle and the words prosperity and progress etched out. She had never seen him before, but Kamba immediately recognized the man as the leader of the Black Rings, Obsidian.

One mistress named Yeneri moved to the body, “Why is everyone outside?”

 

“Skakdi tradition,” a being said. Yeneri and the other Mistresses turned to see the Warlord, walking in with other Vaza commanders and, of all beings, the Shadowed One, “Only those equal to you or above you in life can witness you in death,” the Warlord said, quoting an old Skakdi saying. As long as Nairax’s remains were in plain view, only the top tiered beings could come enter. Yeneri had wondered why General Silver and the other leaders of the Organization seemed to wait outside.

 

Kamba approached Nairax. Nairax was an Skakdi of Ice, with brilliantly white and sand blue armor he kept polished and shining. His armor had been burned in the crash, with dents and tears from the crash which showed pieces of his flesh. To top it all off, the Skakdi had a hand blasted off from the explosion. No attempt was made to hide his disfigurement. Kamba knew of that tradition, to not make up the body or cover up any injuries. It was said to be an insult to his pride.

 

A Fe-Matoran walked in, his head hung low. Everyone in the room knew that this was Fereke, the second in command of the Western Syndicate, and Sawandu’s personal advisor. He walked in to the front of the room, looked at the body, bowed, then left. He did not say a single word.

 

“The nerve of some beings,” said Obsidian, “Sawandu always has to send someone else to do his dirty work.”

 

“You know, Sawandu sent a message to General Silver. Not a word of condolence, mind you, just telling him ‘I did not do this’,” she said in a mocking voice, “Talk about nerve.”

Qarafina, the other mistress turned to face Yeneri. Kamba was in the back, next to the body.

 

“I don’t think he did it,” said Qarafina, “Why would he?”

 

“Power is a drug to these types, sister. Sawandu had ordered his thugs to steal from the Organization for weeks, but he is not the one to escalate a conflict like that. I myself had my doubts, but not showing up in person is the mark of a coward. And showing cowardice in the presence of a syndicate boss is disrespectful.”

 

Yeneri turned to see the Makuta of Stelt come in, in full regalia, with an honor guard of his most disciplined Rahkshi and his best Toa Hagah lining in. The Makuta smiled at the sight of Obsidian and the Shadowed One in the corner, joining their conversation.

 

“Still. Sawandu was always the type to sneak around. Ask any of these people. They all have had something stolen from them by a Matoran who just happened to live in West Stelt.” Yeneri said shaking her head.

 

About thirty minutes later, the casket was closed and dozens of people flooded the hall. The three Vortixx sat in the second row, near some twelve Vaza, the Shadowed One, Obsidian, the Makuta, Skakdi leaders, Steltian leaders, and businessmen and women. The first row was filled by the leaders of the Organization. Lieutenant Shadow and Commander Dread sat near each other, with the Ce-Matoran sitting to their right. General Silver walked in, and sat in the middle.

 

As the king is lowered in the grave, the prince sprouts from the earth. Yeneri knew of the old traditions of the Steltian crime lords. As of this moment, as the syndicates came together in mourning, General Silver was now leader of the Organization. General Silver’s name was synonymous with lies, cheating, stealing in the mind of the Vortixx. He was now officially her “brother.” Yeneri wanted to spit.

 

Mata Nui help us.

-------------------------------------

Review here   To clarify this, the red star doesn't have the reviving function that it does in the main universe, so this story, and some other epics of mine will have funerals and things like that.

Edited October 25, 2014 by Gamfa

[Gamfa]

Chapter Six: Late Night Walks

On a clear, calm Steltian night like this, it would be hard to imagine anyone not going and enjoying the weather. However, for a Toa to do so, especially without notifying his brothers and sisters would be to court death. Surprisingly, Toa Sukama did this almost every week.

 

Sukama was not a known risk taker. Quite the opposite, Sukama seemed to always be caught up in his own worries, and found himself always overanalyzing his decisions. Yet the decision that came naturally was the one of exploration. Plasma wielders were known for being quite inquisitive and passionate for learning new things. Walks were Sukama’s way of leaving his Toa life temporarily and experiencing something new, even though he always walked the same route. It was much like his life as a Toa Mangaia in the Tren Krom Peninsula; forced to work and fulfill his duties from the shadows. As Sukama looked back, these walks were nothing compared to that.

 

But Sukama always knew the risks he took. The best case scenario would have Yunua catching him on a walk, which would result in a fierce (but tolerable) reprimand from his leader. At worst, the Toa would be killed, maybe his rotten corpse not found for weeks, if it was found at all. The Toa knew the streets like the back of his hand, though he was ashamed to admit. He started this habit about two years ago, and with all bad habits, it started as an occasional thing before spiraling into a recurring activity.

 

Sukama stopped. He read a street sign aloud. Kuuma Street. After this, he would go north on Kuuma street, until he reached a dark alley, where he would walk through to reach Mata Nui Avenue. Then, across that street would be the Citadel, the base of the Toa Stelt.

Sukama walked up Kuuma Street, a somewhat well-lit road. As he walked, he would hear the scurry of Stone rats and tense up. He had little to fear; his power of plasma would make short work of any muggers and his Mask of Flight gave him an escape. He just needed to make sure no one was seriously injured; the last thing the Toa Stelt needed was a dead body on their hands. He turned into the alley, and headed to Mata Nui Street.

 

This was always the tensest part of his journey. On top of the fact that he might be seen by his teammates coming out of a dark alley at night, this alley was the darkest street he had to pass on his journey. Anything can happen on a dark street at night. Sukama was counting the paces till he reached the avenue.

 

Five…. Four…. Three… Two-

 

A sensation of cold metal raced up the back of Sukama’s neck. He stopped in his tracks, too afraid to turn around.

 

“Don’t move,” someone said behind him. There was something unusual about the voice, something that distorted it. The Toa of Plasma could not tell if the being was male or female.

 

“Make no attempt to use your powers, Toa. My blade is designed to absorb your elemental powers. Don’t use your Kadin either. I’ve already put a trace on you. If you flee, I will send someone after you. Someone much worse.”

 

Sukama swore under his breath, “Listen. I’m a Toa, we are not allowed to carry money. I don’t know what you want but if-“

 

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m an ally. A friend. I’m here to give you a warning. You and the Toa need to leave Stelt. Now.”

 

“What?” Sukama asked.

 

The being, cloaked head to toe in a black shroud shook his head.

 

“The Toa Stelt have fallen victim to the Steltian tragedy: being at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Vaza have been secretly smuggling viruses into Stelt. Three of your friends caught one of them in the act, and now the Vaza are worried that their plan is going to be exposed. They’ve marked you all for death. Please. The Toa Stelt are the only wall of light holding by a rampage of Shadow on this island. Leave. My friends and I are working on it; you will be allowed back once it’s safe.”

 

“…Friends…who are you? How could you know all this?”

 

Sukama turned to see nothing but darkness. He continued out of the alley and on to Mata Nui Avenue.

---------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Toa Chasso knelt in a swamp of the Tren Krom Peninsula, fighting the dense humidity in the muggy afternoon. Beneath him lay a Skakdi, who just seconds before was spewing obscenities and attacking the Toa. A vine with thorns laced with a neurotoxin, thankfully, made short work of the Skakdi.

 

The Skakdi was a criminal, one who had been wanted for assault and armed robbery on four islands, including Stelt. Chasso was a bounty hunter, hired by Nynrah to track him down.

 

The Toa bound the being’s hands and feet with vines, not that they would be needed; the Skakdi was thoroughly paralyzed, though still conscious and able to feel pain. The Toa stood up after feeling a pulse radiate from his mask. His Elda had alerted him to the presence of another being.

 

“We meet again,” Chasso said smiling. Behind him was a member of the Steltian Police Race, “Officer Detana.”

 

Detana was clad head to toe in white and black armor, with a projectile launcher and a sword strapped to his back.

 

“Toa Chasso,” Detana replied.

 

“How may I be of service today?” The officer looked at the paralyzed criminal, tied up next to the Toa.

 

“I see you caught another one.”

 

“Yep. Used a pretty potent toxin to shut down motor system, rendering him immobile. But he can feel pain, most definitely.” Chasso slapped the Skakdi on the back, “I actually discovered the toxin myself.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. You see when you’re a Toa, you get a bigger bang for your buck when it comes to elemental powers if you study how your elemental powers work. Like a Toa of Magnetism studying magnetic fields. So, Officer Detana, you care to answer my question.”

 

The officer sighed, walking over to the Toa.

 

“We have a bounty that needs to be collected,” he said, pulling out a tablet with a Gantai etched into it, “The Gantai elders have called in a favor that the police owe to them. This man, Pabra. He’s a wanted criminal who fled the Gantai homeland and has been living on Stelt ever since.”

 

“Why can’t you do it?” Chasso asked, looking Detana dead in the eyes.

 

Detana shook his head, “He’s hard to trace, he has super speed powers and they-“

 

“Detana, please. Spare us both the excuses. You know that I can’t return to Stelt. Even if I could, this is too dangerous. If the Gantai wanted him arrested, they could have done so themselves. You don’t need me; you want the Toa Kiruz.”

 

Chasso stretched his hand, and a flower rose up from the dirt.

 

“I know what’s been going on. Nairax was assassinated two days ago. Even in a secluded swamp like this, things like that, that information, will always find you. For Mata-Nui’s sake, you found me here.”

 

Detana frowned. He was not the type to waste time dealing with something that was a lost cause, no matter how much it was needed. Detana was head of the West Stelt Organized Crime Unit, one that oversaw the rising tensions in the past few weeks. The officer remembered when he was first reassigned to the west, during the turf war. A third of those he worked with would become victims of the war, collateral damage that often happens to those that try to stop warring syndicates.

 

“Thank you for your time, Chasso”

 

Detana slowly walked out of the swamp. Chasso looked around, picking up the Skakdi from the ground, holding his blade closely to his throat.

 

Brother, what do you think that was about?

 

No idea, sister. Chasso replied, Azima, I want you to follow him. Something’s happening on Stelt, and we need to find out what.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

For a neighborhood filled with criminals, Whisper Alley did not typically fit that mold. At all hours of the day, Whisper Alley was unusually silent and calm. That was to expected, for a neighborhood populated mostly by De-Matoran.

 

The De-Matoran, in need of a segregated community due to their super hearing, created the gated community in Western Stelt. It soon became a rather wealthy neighborhood, eventually becoming home to many of the top Matoran gang leaders.

 

Several Matoran gangsters gathered in a large compound, in dead silence, watching an arena match on the telescreen. There was a knocking on the door, a loud one. The De-Matoran all moaned in discomfort. A Le-Matoran went to go answer the door.

 

“You’ve got some nerve to come bang on our doors at this time of night!”

 

He looked and saw a small black box. He went to pick up the box, when a sudden force erupted from it. A deafening sonic blast exploded from the box. The Matoran inside screamed in pain from the sheer deafening force, some of them knocked out cold. The boom could be heard for mios.

 

Several Dark Hunters entered the compound. The De-Matoran were knocked out cold, and the others were still reeling from the blast. The assassins pulled out their weapons.

 

“Spare no one,” General Silver’s voice echoed in the transmitter.

 

“You heard him. Let’s get to work.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Review here

Edited October 25, 2014 by Gamfa

[Gamfa]

Chapter 7: Prayers

Somewhere in North Stelt

 

Yunua stood on a cliff, watching over a barren, rocky field that was now a construction site. From afar he watched as Po-Matoran laid down bricks and cement with Damara. The big, white and blue laborers did the heavy lifting, moving massive iron support beams and putting them in place. The green insectoid scientist species were the architects and engineers overseeing the construction. One of them was talking to a Lieutenant, who relayed their words to the foreman, a Noble who sat in an elaborate chair that almost mimicked a thrown, with another Lieutenant nearby, barking commands at the builders.

 

Yunua could tell the foreman was one of the more old fashioned types, the kind who did not let lower species disgrace him by talking to him directly. He never said a word to anyone other than those two Lieutenants.

 

The hierarchy was just one facet of society that a younger Toa Yunua had hoped to abolish when he first became a Toa. Unlike the other Toa Stelt, who once lived their lives as Matoran, Yunua was created as a Toa, and immediately enlisted in the Hand of Artahka. He remembered his time as a member, a time of recklessness and indiscipline.

 

It was some 150 after the universe’s creation, when the League of Six Kingdoms ruled and Miserix commanded the Brotherhood of Makuta. The Hand of Artahka had started a base on Stelt and Yunua was the head of operations and the head recruiter. Within hours, hundreds of desperate Steltians came to the Hand of Artahka, looking for employment. The hierarchy laws went into effect seventy years before, creating wealth inequality that drove Steltians into the arms of those who could help them make ends meet. Of those that came, Yunua hired fifty of them.

 

The Hand of Artahka had gained a notorious reputation for being well intentioned peace keepers, who often caused more harm than good. Many of the members were poorly trained and reckless, and often caused more damage than the threats they fought. The fifty Steltians were no different, and Yunua often had to send more skilled operatives like Axonn to clean up the mess they made. The Hand also failed to resolve many of the islands problems, like crime and political instability. Soon enough, the island turned against the Hand of Artahka and they were forced to leave. Ten years later, the hand disbanded.

 

Yunua sipped from his canteen and watched the workers pack up for the night. All that was left were the Damara and the laborers, who continued their task. The Toa would always have guilt in his heart, watching them work in the dark while “better” species got to return to their homes. Yunua remembered trying to use the faction as a political instrument, hoping to put pressure on Stelt’s government to abolish the racist laws of the island.

 

However, when it was time to leave, Yunua made no attempt to stay. He resented this place, hating that sensation of not being wanted. He looked and saw a land of ingrates who deserved their situation. Years later, Yunua would volunteer to come back. He would return to an island in shambles.

 

Yunua still remembers the Steltians he hired. They were ecstatic to finally have a stable job, even though it was only temporary. The Toa always wondered what became of them, along with the other members. He knew of one who became a Vaza, and another who became a Dark Hunter. But others, like Axonn… They seemed to vanish from existence. But he always remembered them, even for a fleeting moment.

 

There was a Steltian, a noble he remembered. Unlike the others of that race, he did not seem to hate the other species; it was almost the opposite, and he was quite fond of them, if they served a purpose. He was one of the best, cautious in his ways, efficient. Yunua never knew if he had military training, but he certainly had some type of training. He was one of the few that could deal with Stelt’s top gangsters and warlords. But, the Steltian was known for always seeking promotions through the ranks. He had a thirst for power in his eyes, which Yunua could see. Helryx always told Yunua to be careful with those types.

 

Yunua went into a brief, but deep recollection. He was trying to remember this being. Platorak. That was his name, if he recalled correctly.

Yunua looked at a clock in the distance. He got up, and made the journey back to Central.

-------------------------------

West Stelt

 “They have the audacity to murder my best men in cold blood. We will respond in kind. It is the only appropriate thing to do.”

 

“What shall we do, Sawandu?”

 

The Ko-Matoran stood up, examining a stone board at the front of the room. Carved on it were the faces of General Silver, Commander Shadow, Lieutenant Dread, and Aysu. Sawandu picked up a small, freezing dagger, and tossed it, the blade landing on the image of Aysu.

 

“The General is probably in hiding, along with the lieutenant and the colonel. But the Matoran… she probably acts as his messenger. If we can find her, then we can get her to talk-“

 

Jahmpa raised his hand. “If she was so easily broken, Nairax and Diama would not have used her as a personal confidant. Capturing her would be futile.

 

“It would send a message, however,” said Fereke. Bramba and a Vo-Matoran both nodded in agreement.

 

Sawandu shook his head. Assembled in his room were his top men, a group of Matoran and others who were native to West Stelt, the poorest region on the island. It was home to the highest murder rate in the entire universe, and from the poverty and despair of its inhabitants came an alliance of different crews and gangs and cartels that became the Western Syndicate. Sawandu became the leader some two millennia ago and saw many of his close friends killed by Organization fighters.

 

“We do not send messages, Fereke. We ensure they know we are not to be trifled with.”

 

“And then what will you have to show for this war, Sawandu?” Sawandu turned to see the Noble Mask of Stamina that the Elder wore. “Your top earners, dead in the streets. Your home burned to the ground. The end of the organization is all that will come from this, Sawandu.”

 

Sawandu nodded, and went to shake the Elder’s hand. “It’s good to see you brother.”

 

“Indeed. Yet I never thought I would hear such foolish and reckless talk from you Sawandu. Certainly, you know the consequences of a war with the Diama-Nairax Organization.”

 

“Which reminds me, given that Diama is missing and Nairax is dead, shouldn’t it be General Silver’s Organization now?” asked Jahmpa.

 

“What that idiot chooses to call his crew of bwesina is irrelevant. What is important is that we strike-“

 

“Strike them with what, Sawandu? How do you intend to defeat General Silver?” asked the Elder

 

Sawandu looked at the Elder, and swore silently beneath his Akaku. He motioned to Fereke to hand him something.

 

“I assume you have heard that the Vaza will not stand for the destruction of the eight hundred year truce, brother. We will do everything in our power to stop it, as will the Black Rings. And if you choose the path of war and aggression, Sawandu, you will face not just Silver’s wrath. But mine as well.”

 

The Elder turned and left the Syndicate’s headquarters. Sawandu continued.

 

“Boss,” said Bramba, “are we honestly gonna let some old Fire spitter tell us how to run our syndicate?”

 

“No. but we will not be the first to strike. General Silver will launch an attack. But we will be ready. I want someone on every block on the lookout for any outsiders. Keep your ears to the streets. The moment he strikes, we will be ready. And we will finish him.”

-------------------------------------------

Central Stelt

 

To Sukuma’s surprise, he was not reprimanded by his leader or his teammates for walking around alone at night. Instead, he was greeted by a heavy silence in the room, as the beings in it looked to each other.

 

“Lekenda…” Yunua said softly. They were in Toa Council, where all Toa were expected to give their opinion on a certain matter. The Toa convened to discuss the threat against their lives, and the course of action they would take. Lekenda was the last Toa to give his opinion.

 

Lekenda and Garia had just started their patrol when Yunua ordered them to come back to headquarters immediately. The two Toa enjoyed their infrequent shifts together. Lekenda was a well-travelled man, who enjoyed telling stories to Garia, who was the only Toa who never left the island. They both were also former healers, Lekenda being a particularly skilled one who had come to Stelt many times as a Matoran. He was a respected healer, his people giving him a golden Great Mask of Healing.

 

Lekenda was the sole Toa of Air on the team, one who lacked many of the hallmarks of an air type. While he was fun loving and jovial, he lacked the foolhardiness and outgoingness of his element. In fact, Takako and Komutu, his best friend on the team, respectively held more of those traits then Lekenda ever could.

 

Lekenda looked at Yunua, and said, “We should stay. We must. No question.”

 

Yunua nodded, “We have all said our piece. Yet if anyone changes their mind… feel free to leave.”

 

“You hired us because of our experience, Yunua,” said Garia, “You picked us to join the Toa Stelt because we knew this wasn’t some far off Koro where we’d have to save Matoran from Ash bears. This is Stelt.”

 

“I concur,” said Vonui, “We all knew that eventually, this peace would not last. All eras come to an end, and you made a point to make sure all of us recognized that fact, Yunua, before you hired us.”

 

“And given the ongoing tensions between the Organization and the Syndicate, we would be violating our sworn duties as Toa.”

 

Yunua dismissed his team and returned to his room, sipping from his canteen. He turned his head and faced the temple, praying softly to himself.

 

Mata Nui. They know not of the darkness they have surrendered them to. They are good Toa, willing to stay and protect your virtues. I knew from the start that they would not agree to leave.  Please…. If it happens the a Toa's life must be given, let it be mine. Please…. They don’t deserve to die.

 

-----------------------------------

Review here

Edited October 25, 2014 by Gamfa

[Gamfa]

Chapter 8

 

“Wise One, you need to come down. Can you do that for me? Can you calm down?”

 

There wasn't a Toa Stelt who did not absolutely dread the Great Market shift. It was the largest market on the island, with thousands coming in from all over to buy and sell each day. It was also a dangerous hot spot for criminal activity. With the rising tensions between gangs, Yunua thought it necessary to station three Toa there each day.

 

Vonui, Toa Stelt of Lightning, and Lekenda, Toa Stelt of Air, were attending to an injured Turaga while Farun used his heightened senses to search for the assailant. Minutes earlier, a bruiser tore through the Turaga’s stand, stealing thousands in widgets and injuring the Turaga before storming through the crowd. Miraculously, no one was killed. Lekenda used his Kanohi Bhafa to heal the Turaga while Farun scanned the crowd searching for him.

 

“Got him!” said Farun.

 

Lekenda was the first to respond, using his air powers to thrust himself into the air. Vonui followed suit, her Calix allowing her to leap over the market and into the alleys that the bruiser was headed for. Farun used his magnetic powers to levitate and followed suit.

 

The three Toa landed in the streets, Lekenda upfront. The Toa of Air was the fastest and most agile of the three, gracefully hopping fences and leaping over walls to keep up. Krekka’s species were known for their brute strength and size, but not speed. The laborer turned a corner, with Lekenda trailing right behind him. The other Toa were not too far off. Vonui was a few steps in front of Farun, with her Bolt Blade and her Lightning cannon at the ready. In a fraction of a second, she and Farun turned the corner when they heard a scream that would send chills down Karzahni’s spine.

 

“Lekenda!”

 

The Toa of Air dropped to the ground, with a spear dripping acid lodged in his chest. He fell over dead, with a gaping hole going right through the middle of him. There was still acid dripping on the streets, eating away the concrete. A Vaza with a wicked looking sword walked towards them. Vonui and Farun turned around, running out of the alley. A shot was fired at that them, and they saw some five Dark Hunters and two Vaza shooting at them.

 

Farun used his magnetic powers to create a barrier, reflecting the Protosteel bullets being fired. Vonui turned around and trapped the Vaza chasing them with an electric field. She redirected the electric energy sending a shockwave through the Vaza. Vonui turned on her Calix and leapt high into the air. She wanted to scream. The image of her dead comrade was still flesh in her mind. Behind her was Farun, who was a few feet off the ground, redirecting more bullets. The Toa of Lightning landed on a building and jumped to another rooftop.

 

“Vonui!” yelled Farun, who was closer to ground level.

 

Before either Toa could react, Vonui felt something strike her mid leap. She was knocked onto the ground. The frazzled Toa saw the large, fast hulking figure of Gladiator stride over. Her mask had been knocked off and the Toa was powerless. The Dark Hunter put a foot on Vonui’s head. He looked at her briefly then smiled.

Gladiator turned to Farun.

 

“Cross the Vaza’s path and this what you get Toa. Gladiator turned to Farun and ran. The Toa focused his power on a nearby warehouse, tearing out entire walls of the building and throwing them at Gladiator with his power. The Dark Hunter was slowed by the attack, but was able to make short work of the walls. Not that it mattered anyways, Farun had already escaped him.

 

Farun had never felt so afraid before in his life. He was running throw the alleys, dodging bullets and energy blasts. He spotted a small, personal airship and jumped in.

 

“What the… What the Karzahni?” the Le-Matoran pilot said. He looked at Farun, and saw he was a Toa.

 

“Oh no, you all aren’t getting in my ship, after all that’s been happening! Get out!”

 

 “Please! You have to help me, you have to-“

 

The space between the Matoran’s head and Farun’s was split by a bullet. Blasts of pure energy violently rocked the airship. Farun withdrew his Axe and touched it to the pilot’s neck.

 

“Fly,” he said.The ship levitated in the air and lurched forward. Farun saw missiles flying from a rooftop, launched from a Dark Hunter’s cannon. The Toa used his magnetic power to make the missiles go haywire, harmlessly crashing into each other. The Toa never moved his blade from the Matoran’s neck.

 

“Faster,” Farun said. More missiles were fired. Farun made them crash, but then the ship was shook by a blast, and the vessel filled with smoke.

 

A missile ripped through the ship. Farun grabbed the Le-Matoran, injured, a piece of shrapnel piercing his abdomen and his arm covered in burns. The two fell into a free fall, with Farun using his power to create a cushion of magnetic propulsion, slowing their descent to the ground.

 

The two landed on the street. The Matoran looked at the Toa. He nodded, and walked away.

 

Farun watched him walk away, still crouching on the ground. He was exhausted, defeated, weak. He tried catching his breath, for a moment forgetting that two of his teammates died and that he was the victim of an assassination attempt. The Toa was at peace, though his mind would soon force him to remember all that happened that day.

Farun stood up, when he felt something pierce his bag. That sharp sting went from his back to his chest, piercing his heartlight. Behind him was the pet bull of the Dark Hunter, who struck the Toa with its horn. Tracker was not far off, watching his pet make the kill.

 

It all came back to Farun; everything that happened that day, everything that he had forgotten. There was a second of panic.

 

Then he was gone.

---------

A tall Vortixx woman sat at the chute station, waiting patiently. There were dozens of being coming in and out of the Chute at the Mokusi Building. She did not mind the waiting, but she hated the crowds. Even in her territory of Northern Stelt, she still did not feel safe around so many unfamiliar faces.

 

“Kamba!” a woman called with a thick Xian accent.

 

Kamba smiled at her friend, Xheni. It was nice to see her kind. Kamba was not just a female Vortixx, but a member of the Mistresses of Xia. The two embraced, and left the chute station and entered the main section of the building. The building was swarming with the movement of Xian weapons dealers, Steltian traders, Matoran businessmen and others going to and fro. The two walked towards the elevator, heading towards the top floor.

 

When they arrived, the approached a black wall, with a black marble door, and two Dark Hunters standing before it. They saluted, and parted, the door opening behind them.

“Sister Xheni, how nice of you to join us,” Yeneri said, “We feared that you would not make it, given how unreliable those airships from Xia to Stelt are.”

 

Xheni smiled, looking around to see the other sixteen members of the Mistresses of Xia. They were Stelt’s smallest Syndicate by membership, but ruled over its entire Northern region. They were fearsome beings, known for their brutal executions, carried out by paid minions and slaves they owned.

 

Kamba sat at the front of the table, smiling.

 

“Sisters, I did not have enough time to brief fellow Mistress Xheni on the situation, so I will take the time to do so now. Within the past few weeks, tensions have risen between our brothers in the West, and the Diama-Nairax Organization. Earlier this week, Nairax was assassinated, believed to be caused by the West Stelt Syndicate. Two days ago, the Organization retaliated. Things are going to get ugly. While our sisters in Xia will no doubt to claim immense profit for themselves and our people, we will not get involved.”

The mistresses nodded their heads in agreement. Kamba continued.

 

“So sisters, we have decided to remain neutral. The Vaza are trying, in vain, to intervene. Knowing General Silver as well as I do… Let’s just say that they will regret getting involved soon.”

 

“What of the Black Rings,” Xheni asked.

 

“They are trying to call a truce… But like I said, it won’t end well for them. Sawandu, the Vaza command, Obsidian. All will fall in a few weeks. General Silver will be in the morgue with them. We just have to wait to pick up the spoils.”

[Gamfa]

Chapter 9: Allegiance

 

“Pabra, hand me the Kanoka launcher,” said Ryaris.

 

Pabra sighed, “You know I could just-“

 

“No, no, no. I need to see what happens,” said Ryaris as he loaded a disc of intangibility into the launcher and fired it at the vault door. The door shimmered with energy briefly, before reverting to normal.

 

“I know that not everyone is blessed with the ability to use Kanohi but it seemed like you just wanted to waste a disk, brother.”

 

Ryaris smiled at his friend, and crouched down, crawling through a door half his size. Less than a minute later, he walked out, with four swords strapped to his back. He took one, unsheathed it, swinging it in the air.

 

“How Nairax and General Silver ever got their hands on these I will never know.”

 

“What is it?” asked Pabra.

 

“Years ago, the blue prints for an energy generator was stolen from Nynrah and brought to Xia. The Xians, being the inventive people they are, reverse engineered these swords. The Calibrax Swords are what they are called.”

 

Ryaris handed Pabra one. Pabra plunged the blade into the ground, the sword glowing bluish white and vibrating with power. He pulled the blade from the earth, where it left a crater almost five feet deep.

 

“We really should get going,” said Pabra.

 

Ryaris sheathed the blade and walked out of the underground chamber. Pabra turned to Ryaris as soon as the reached the surface level.

 

“Ryaris, I’ve been thinking. Given everything that’s been happening lately-“

 

“I’m one step ahead of you, brother,” said Ryaris.

 

The two had been thinking the same thing. Ryaris and Pabra were contractors for the Western Syndicate, a well-paying job that helped them make ends meet and have some disposable income at hand. While they were not official members of the Syndicate, they were considered allies with close ties to them.

 

Ryaris and Pabra were in a tavern yesterday, watching an arena match on the telescreen when a bulletin flashed. A Matoran businessman with ties to the Syndicate was the victim of an attempted assassination, his airship shot at by two unknown Dark Hunters. Ryaris and Pabra left the tavern that night without saying a word, but as they returned home, the thought of a simple businessman being a victim lingered in their minds.

 

“I truly hate switching allegiances like this; it’s unbecoming,” said Ryaris.

 

Pabra paced a few steps ahead of Ryaris. Ryaris knew his friend would always walk faster when he had not used his power in a long time, a sign of great restlessness.

 

“I feel we are in need of a temporary switch, until things die down,” said Pabra.

 

 

Ryaris looked at his, surprised, “Why not just cut off all ties anyone all together? No need to switch sides.”

 

Pabra kept walking bristly. It had been days since he last ran at super speed, and his muscles were practically begging him to start running.

 

“Pabra, if you want to run, start running,” said Ryaris.

 

“I can’t… Someone might see me!” he replied.

 

“Brother, for the thousandth time. The Gantai elders don’t have spies that are watching you, the police aren’t looking to arrest you, and we have plenty of bribe money.”

 

“I’m sorry” the Gantai said

 

“Mata Nui! All this paranoia,” Ryaris said. Ryaris sat on a cinderblock, stretching out his long legs. He picked up a stick, and made small, abstract markings in the dirt.

 

“Listen, Pabra. If you want, we can join the DNO. But you need to know the commitment we’re making here. Both sides stand to lose a lot, and regardless of who wins, both syndicates end up in shambles. But, this is an ideal situation for us, and it is the most likely. Should the Western Syndicate win, we can go back to being contractors for them. If General Silver wins…. We’re stuck being his lackeys for life.”

 

Pabra shook his head, nodding.

 

“He won’t win then. We get out as soon as things get too heavy.”

----------------

 

The room, a lavish, darkened chamber lit by red fire torches, was filled with crimson armored beings, frozen with fear and anxiety as they waited in silence. The beings were members of Stelt’s ruling species, assembled together. Scattered in the room were the various clans of Stelt, and their leaders. It was rare that such a gathering would take place so amicably; all those in the room had bad blood with one another due to past tensions. However, their host would not take lightly to fighting in his presence. It was seen as disrespectful.

 

“He’s late,” a man said. A man across from him nodded gently, not trying to draw attention to himself.

 

A few barked at the being, telling him to be quiet. The Steltian known as Sidorak huffed.

 

“If he will not honor the agreed upon time then why even bother having this meeting?”

 

“Because we have arrangements which must be made, for this island’s sake. As someone who seeks leadership position within Stelt and the Brotherhood, you could at least feign interest in such a meeting of such importance. At least in my presence, Sidorak.”

 

Coming from the void like shadows behind Sidorak was the calm, smooth, dark baritone of the Makuta of Stelt, Falsalo. Emerging from the shadows, the olive green Makuta took casual strides to the front of the room. All eyes were focused on him. The Makuta was eight feet tall, somewhat bulky, with two spiked tentacles on each side of his back that flowed behind  him like an elaborate cape. He faced the room, his mask covered in spikes with a fangs jutting slightly out of his mask’s mouth.

 

Falsalo was the closest thing the island had to a leader, having cut deals with clans, companies, syndicates, Toa, and the military for secret control of the island’s affairs. He was said to have secret spies in every echelon of Steltian society, watching for any sign of dissent.

 

“I will make this brief, given how desperately Sidorak wishes to go party and gamble with his Vortixx friends while the rest of his do our jobs.”

 

Sidorak’s clan leader, Voporak, shot his lieutenant a look of burning hatred.

 

“As many of you know, a war has started between two syndicates. Now I know there are those affiliated with these organizations, and I know there are those who would rather stay neutral. I want you all to understand that if you seek to maintain the way of life you have this cannot be an option. Yesterday, several buildings in Stelt were destroyed in battle, and countless innocent bystanders were injured. To make matters worse, the Toa, the peacekeepers of this island, saw three of their kind murdered. Now, allow to make clear that I do not care for Toa, but they are the sole enforcement of law that has legitimacy and the confidence of the people.”

 

“What do you propose we do,” said Voporak.

 

The Makuta of Stelt sat in his chair, his olive green Mask of Distortion hiding a look of deep thought. The Makuta stretched out his hand focusing his illusory powers. In seconds the image of six Toa appeared in the center of the room.

 

“I recommend we call outside help: the Toa Kiruz. Years ago, the Toa Kiruz were hired by the police on Stelt when they sought a dangerous criminal. They are fast, efficient, and skilled. To my knowledge, a Police detective has hired one to collect a bounty. We need the other five, if we hope to stabilize the situation. That is where you all come in.”

 

The nobles of Stelt looked at one another, shaking their heads in confusion.

 

A Steltian woman named Draras was the first to respond.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Falsalo arose from his seat and walked towards the gathered Steltians.

 

“Years ago, a crime was committed to a member of the Kiruz, an unspeakable one. They have come for retribution.”

 

Review here

[Gamfa]

Chapter ten: Grief

The Kini-Raxa, the most sacred building in all of Stelt, was unusually quiet and somber today. As to be expected, the temple was usually quiet, filled with Matoran and Turaga who spent their day meditating and studying in solace. But on this day, the temple was eerily empty and void of sound. Yunua was in the main hall of the temple, with Komutu standing behind him. In front of the Toa of Earth were three caskets. Yunua stood over the casket of Toa Farun, his eyes never moving from the casket of Toa Vonui. All three caskets were draped in the flag of Stelt, a black flag with a red region about a third of its size on its left side and a gold stripe to separate the two. In gold in the red side was the head shape of a noble, surrounded by a circle made of seven stars. The caskets were made of black crystalline protodermis.

 

Yunua was the only Toa Stelt who saw the bodies of their comrades. Farun was the first body he saw, and the least grisly. Yunua winced as he remembered seeing Lekenda’s remains, with a giant hole in his chest, laid out on an iron slab. Yunua was not a stranger to identifying remains of his friends, from his duration in the Hand till now. Yet he would never forget seeing Vonui….

 

He gasped when he first saw his sister, and grimaced at the recollection. Komutu put his hand on his shoulder. Komutu looked around the temple, scanning it with his Mask of Analysis to check for anything hidden. Yunua’s Rode was on a low level, detecting them to any hidden threats. Even in this sacred place, both Toa knew they weren’t safe, even though both Toa could handle a threat. Yunua had 80,000 years of experience, and Komutu had 50,000. The two had seen war and genocide in their careers. But something about being targeted specifically made them fearful, especially Komutu.

 

“You said there might be a day where I’d have to lead the team,” said Komutu.

 

“Yes. You are not just my deputy, but my successor should something happen to me,” said Yunua.

 

“How does one deal with things like this? With threats of violence, with war?”

 

“I cannot say. That can only be said by experience. Though should the day come, I know you can handle it, brother.”

 

“No, I can’t. Lekenda could handle it and now… I always knew, he should have been second in command” the Toa of Ice stopped. Yunua could see tears in his eyes.

 

Komutu turned and walked to a corner to go talk to some friends. Yunua never moved. A Turaga named Onumeh approached him.

 

 

“Toa Yunua,” the Turaga said, bowing.

 

“Rise, wise one,” Yunua replied, “No need for formalities today.”

 

“Merely condolences. They were good Toa, dedicated and hard working.”

 

The temple began to fill up with more beings. Vo-, Fa-, and Le- Matoran flocked the temple, with Turaga and  others filing in behind them. Among that group were the friends, comrades, and teammates of the deceased Toa, coming from their homelands to pay their respects. Komutu looked worried, the scope on his mask scanning the large crowd. The Toa of Ice was a rarity among his kind; he actually liked crowds and being in large groups. But he was afraid, and fear made him hate the thing he loved.

 

“Does he know?” asked Onumeh

 

 “Yes. We are just about to leave.”

 

The priest shook his head and frowned, facing the Toa, with an immense sadness on his face.

 

“I wish you all could stay, but for safety’s sake. If someone wants to attack the Toa Stelt here, in this house of worship…”

 

Yunua stretched his ebon hand, with the Turaga stretching out his own, their two fists meeting in the middle.

 

“I understand, brother.”

---------------------------------

Garia sat in a corner, Cerelia’s arms wrapped around her body, with Farun’s mask in her lap. The Toa of Water had been crying for hours, never leaving that corner from when she heard the news. Cerelia had been up with her, forgoing sleep to comfort her friend. Sukama and Dero were in the other room, and Takako was by the door, his Flame Claw in his hand. It was his turn to watch.

 

Yunua suspended all activities indefinitely as soon as he heard the news. Sukama had not personally seen Yunua since he warned him of the threat. Dero sat in silence, watching a telescreen coverage of the funeral. He set the screen to the lowest volume; he did not want Garia to hear it. Sukama watched the screen in rage.

 

“He’s an idiot, you know,” the Toa of Plasma said.

 

“Who?” Dero asked.

 

“That brakas Yunua. He should have listened to me, he should have-“

 

“He did. We called a Toa Council on it and we unanimously decided to stay. You were included and you yourself agreed to stay.”

 

“He should have been the leader! He should have listened to me! He should have demanded we leave! None of us could have known this was going to happen.”

 

Dero turned off the telescreen. He got up and walked to go talk to Takako. The Toa of Fire hadn’t taken his eyes off the entrance to the Toa’s headquarters in five hours.

 

“Sukama is angry brother,” said Dero.

 

“He was just doing his job,” Takako said softly.

 

 

“…I’m sorry?”

 

“Farun. He was just doing his duty. When a Toa hears something suspicious, they go investigate. When someone attacks a market, the Toa goes and arrests him…. He did nothing wrong.”

Dero poured some water for his friend.

 

“I was supposed to be at that market shift, Dero. Not him. But I wanted to do another investigation on Nairax’s death, which I’ve still not done. He died in vain. All of them did.”

 

“Takako, don’t talk like that,” said Dero as he handed the Toa a glass of water.

 

“You know what keeps the Dark Hunters, Vaza and civilians who want us dead out? Yunua explained it to me the day he installed the gate. A scanner reads for Toa energy, and then opens a gate made of six inch Protosteel plates charged with elemental energy. Then there’s me. And after that, nothing.”

 

“Takako, I think it’s time for you to switch.”

 

The Toa of Fire looked Dero dead in the eyes.

 

“That Vaza that we caught. Komutu saw him, before the threat, walking around freely. Farun, Vonui, and Lekenda don’t get to walk… I should have killed him when I had the chance-“

 

“Takako, I advise that you listen to your brother,” said Yunua’s powerful baritone voice. The two Toa stood and saluted him. Sukama came outside of his room.

 

“Sukama, please keep watch. I need to go speak to Garia.”

 

Sukama looked at Yunua, frowned with anger, then turned without saying a word.

 

Review: here