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Old Endings, New Beginnings

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(This is my take on the events that happened before Bionicle 2015, assuming the mask is the Mask of Creation, which makes the most sense. Also the most I've written in quite a while.)

 

Old Endings, New Beginnings

 

“In the time before time, the Great Beings ruled this planet in peace and harmony,

Then the selfish desires of the people split everything apart.

A mission was begun to repair the damage, and a people were created.

They needed a ruler, a creator, and so my brother and I fought over the right,

Not a war of blades, but a war of minds.

I emerged victorious and retrieved my right to be that ruler.

My brother was always jealous, but he is gone now.

Everything is gone.

But I’m still sitting here!”

 

The room shuddered as the massive green being pounded on his throne. His pedestal was the only lit thing in the room, though gleams of crystals and metal along the walls revealed it to be much larger.

 

“These Toa believe they have the right to the glory! They believe they have the right to the people! Was it not I who created them? Was it not I who gave them the tools to save the Great Spirit?” The green being was standing now in an indignant fury, his throne and surroundings forgotten. He raised his hand as if expecting something to fall into it, then his mask glowed and stones from around the room fused into a rough puppet. The face had a round mouth edged by lines, and the eyes were narrow slits. Its only defense from the being’s fury was a pathetic-looking flaming sword.

 

At the sight, the being threw the puppet across the room in disgust, and it shattered against a pillar. “They believe I will be safe here. As if there is any power that can defeat me!” His mask glowed again, and crystals in the shadows shuddered and slithered along the ground.

 

“I am Artahka! The Great Creator, Wearer of the Legendary Mask of Creation! Nothing can…” All his anger ebbed away as he looked down to see a massive drill shoved through his heartlight. “No,” was all he could say.

 

“There, there, Artahka. Let’s not get too excited. That’s right, just sit down.”

 

The light that was blazing in Artahka’s eyes moments ago was fading as the titan weakened and collapsed back into the throne. “It’s…you, isn’t it? I remember you. You were the mad one who decided to watch.”

 

“You think me mad? Could a mad Matoran bring down the Great Creator?” The little brown Matoran stepped into the light, a smug grin on his mask. His hunched, broken look gave him an extra feeling of malice.

 

“You were never a Matoran. You’re much more than that.”

 

“You’re right. I never was a Matoran. This body was though.”

 

“Why are you doing this? You are destroying your very creations!”

 

“Oh, Artahka. You’ve been watching just as I have. Haven’t you seen the petty disputes? The deactivations? These machines have gone too far.”

 

Artahka could hardly sit up anymore. “They are more than just machines. You made sure of that.”

 

The Matoran took a casual step away, turning his back on Artahka as if acknowledging he was no longer a threat. “That is true. But at journey’s end, they are still just cells. Little creatures going about their way, never realizing that they are living in and even serving a greater creature, far greater than they could even imagine! They are broken, confused, forced from the life they always knew.”

 

“I have faith they will adapt.”

 

“And if they don’t?” The Matoran turned around, his mask almost showing genuine concern. “Artahka, they need a leader.”

 

Artahka could barely muster the words, but he spit them out anyways. “Not…one like you.”

 

Suddenly, the Matoran jumped up onto the throne, showing agility no one would expect from his form. He forced Artahka’s head back, making the titan gasp in pain. “But I will be the only one left,” he whispered, mask to mask with his victim. The crazed grin on his face showed Artahka he was serious. And seriously insane. Artahka weakly raised a hand, his mask glowing almost imperceptibly. The crystals in the shadows shuddered again.

 

“Oh, don’t try calling your ‘pets,’ Artahka. You are far too weak. You should have stopped me when you had the chance.” The Matoran hopped down, retrieved his drill, and began walking away. “Oh, wait, you never had a chance.” The last sound Artahka heard was the Great Being’s crazed laughter ringing down the halls.

 

As the titan fell, the shadows were ready to greet him. The Legendary Mask of Creation, forgotten entirely by the little assassin, fell off and bounced into the waiting claws just out of the light. The creatures in the shadows pronounced their work good and scuttled off with the one of the most powerful masks in the universe. 

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