A sea of movement lay before his eyes. Matoran, Toa, and countless other species wove around each other as they ran between the shattered remains of what had once been the body of their Great Spirit and the slowly rising structure of a new village. Taken over by Makuta and rendered uninhabitable in combat, the massive robot that had once housed a universe was now being evacuated so a new life could begin on Spherus Magna. It was a beautiful scene—species long thought of as enemies working together for the greater good, with the natives of this world welcoming them with open arms.
The sight filled him with disgust.
From atop a cliff overlooking the crowd, Ahkmou scowled. The Po-Matoran had long been a valuable (or so he assumed) ally to the Makuta, and had been rewarded with control over the city of Metru-Nui once the villain’s plan reached completion. Then came the day the sky was torn open, Makuta killed, and Ahkmou found himself facing very, very real danger.
Even those “noble” Toa would probably kill me on sight, he thought. I was lucky to escape before they found me. Chances are they either think I’m dead, or don’t care to see if I’m alive.
A more sentimental being might be hurt by this realization. Ahkmou only grew angry.
“I was supposed to be one of them,” he seethed. “If I had the power of a Toa, I could make them all bow to me again! I would make them suffer if my destiny hadn’t been stolen from me!”
“Destiny? You cling to destiny…”
Ahkmou suddenly felt cold. He dared not turn around to see who the harsh, contemptuous voice belonged to, merely remained still as a statue as the sound of footsteps grew steadily louder. A spear was thrust into the rock beside him, granting him view of the scaly hand that clutched it.
“Another Matoran…one who wants to be a Toa. You should have died with your Great Spirit.”
Ahkmou gulped. “I-I have no love f-for Mata Nui. I’m glad he’s g-gone.”
The stranger replied with eerie silence, and Ahkmou found himself continuing to speak. “Maybe I am a Matoran, but it’s not like I chose to be. And I certainly don’t want to be a Toa like them!”
He made a shaky gesture towards the Toa below. Seconds later, he could feel the stranger’s noxious breath battering him as a question formed: “Not like them? You are not like them?”
His anger granting bravery, Ahkmou responded, “Of course not! I hate them!”
The stranger chuckled, a terrible noise that sent a shiver down Ahkmou’s spine. “You hate them. Good, you hate them. We hate them too. Convince me that I shouldn’t hate you.”
Words spilled out of Ahkmou, relating a brief summary of his most noteworthy deeds: plotting to steal the Great Disks only to be foiled by Toa; spreading a plague among his people only to be found out and punished by Turaga; feeling not the slightest inkling of guilt as he enslaved and commanded his fellow Matoran during his great (if short) reign over Metru-Nui. He spoke of how he was, without a doubt, the most hated, treacherous Matoran in the eyes of his species, and that he was perfectly fine with that. The stranger did nothing but listen attentively.
“I don’t care what they think of me. I care that they won. Now I’m cursed to hide from them like a coward because the power I so rightfully deserve was robbed from me—stolen by Onewa and the others, and then ripped from my grasp by Mata Nui himself! I want that power back…I want to use it against them. All of them.”
When Ahkmou was finished, he waited for the stranger’s reply. Moments later, a hand grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around before he could protest, bringing him mask-to-jaws with a Zyglak. A hideous grin was spread across the creature’s face.
“Your hatred is real. You are an outcast. You are like us.”
Ahkmou attempted to hide the terror in his eyes. He was unsuccessful.
Letting go of him, the Zyglak added, “I think I won’t kill you. You are a Matoran, but not like the other Matoran…how interesting. We never expected to find something like you.”
Pulling its spear out of the ground, the Zyglak turned and took a few steps away from Ahkmou. It then paused and looked back over its shoulder.
“Perhaps I won’t hate you. Perhaps I’ll even give you a choice. Take your chances with me, or take your chances in the wild…or take your chances with them.”
Ahkmou took a long, hard look at the Zyglak, fathoming the sheer depth of his fear for the monster. Then he looked back at the settlement the Toa were building, letting his bottomless rage wash over him.
With a hateful smile, he turned and followed the Zyglak.
Edited by Pahrak #0579, Oct 30 2013 - 07:30 PM.