To say that Completely Off Topic had changed since the Great War began was an understatement. Once a welcoming home for any BZ-citizen who had lost interest in BIONICLE, full of coffee shops for discussion and parks for peaceful retreat. As soon as the war began, all that changed. Citizens rarely entered the streets alone, fearful of the abusive BZR guards who took any chance they could to harass citizens. The cityscape was soon dotted by hundreds of manufacturing plants, churning out guns, ammunition and… Bohrok?

With massive war comes a need for massive forces. Private talks between Dimensioneer, Ninjo, and Rama-Swarm had resulted in what would be deemed the greatest achievement of decade, even after the war: robot infantry. Ever faithful to BIONICLE, Rama had designed them to be exact replicas of Bohrok. The vast majority of them held standard Cordak blasters, capable of shooting sixty shots per minute. A select group had been ordered by Dimensioneer to be in the model of a Lehvak, so that they would shoot acid out of their shielded hands. They were put on special guard duty at the Admin’s Palace, unbeknownst to Black Six.

And while Toaraga’s intelligence had been correct in saying that there was no credible human fighting force in CoT, he did not account for the some twenty thousand Bohrok infantry. Each regiment was under the command of a human member captain, who each reported directly to the self proclaimed Lord of CoT—Kex.

On the morning of December 26, 2010, Kex lamented the fact that he hadn’t slept all night. Just before he was about eat his Christmas feast with his family the last night, he received a call from Ninjo ordering him to mobilize his troops—BZ-Metru was on its way. Feast had gone uneaten and family was evacuated.

Now he stood on the edge of a hastily constructed battlement, just outside the northeastern edge of the city. Unlike most forums, which were mostly countryside and the majority of the population living in one or two cities, CoT was almost entirely city. A shallow river ran along its north, east, and west walled-borders, on the non-city side of which was grassland. To the south was a vast desert, stretching to lengths no member knew.

Kex turned to his captain Zeddy, whom had been assigned to him by Ninjo. Kex didn’t particularly like Zeddy, but he would have to do. “Are all of the troops assembled?”

“Yes—sir,” said Zeddy, the last word spoken with slight contempt. “Twenty thousand Bohrok, divided into twenty regiments, led by twenty captains.”

“Excellent. I will be in the capital building, keep me updated.

Before Zeddy could object to the unexpected order to stay in battle, Kex walked past him to the stairs of the battlement. Kex swirled around to see before him a sight that would make any man cringe: thousands of Bohrok, each motionless, the lines of which seemed to extend for miles unbroken, only occasionally interrupted by a human member.

“God help us all,” muttered Kex as he passed through them into the city.



“And in short,” finished Bonesiii, “I expect a fast and clean fight.”

He turned from addressing the assembled troops—eleven thousand in number—and began talking to Black Six and Toaraga.

“Are your troops prepared?” he asked Toaraga, who nodded vehemently.

“They’re currently stationed about four miles north of here. On my signal they’ll cross the river and storm the north gate.”

“And you’re sure there are no fighting troops?”

“Nothing to be concerned about. As I said, my intelligence said there are next to no human troops. About one thousand security troops, and less than twenty army officers.”

“Good,” said Bonesiii. He turned his head to Black Six—who himself was donned in fighting gear. “Six… are you sure you want to do this?”

“For the last time, yes,” said Six. “You’ve put enough restrictions on me as it is. I’m to remain here until the battle is hand, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”

“If you say so, sir. Alright, Toaraga, let’s get this done. Head back to your troops, I’ll call you when to give the signal.”

Toaraga nodded and took his leave. Bonesiii turned to his aide and ordered him to give the signal to march—two sharp drum taps. As one body, the assembled Army of BZ-Metru marched forward, led by Bonesiii.

Black Six stood to the side, impressed with the show, yet uneasy. No battle should be this easy. Ninjo wasn’t stupid—that was for sure—so why would he leave such a valuable forum undefended like this?

At the time, Black Six was the only BZ-Metruan to realize this very important truth. The others would not find out until it was much too late.



The first casualty of a battle is often forgotten, his identity forever hidden by the horrors of a battle. Such was the case in the Battle for Completely Off Topic—the first BZ-Metru soldier to fall has been lost to history, just another name among thousands.

The first several columns of troops to cross the bridge over the river were shot down easily. They were completely unprepared for the one thousand Bohrok lying in wait outside the walls of the city, which were initially hidden by the battlements built to blend in with the city walls behind.

Once the first few regiments had fallen, the troops behind became alert to the situation. They hastily armed themselves, wondering what they were up against. They fired blindly into the city walls—many missing—many dying before getting a shot off.

It was not until the first fifth of the army column had been dismantled by Bohrok was Bonesiii able to take control of the situation. He began barking orders to his captains and nearby troops, some of which were heard and followed, some of which went unnoticed.

“Storm the right of the gate, that’s the weakest defense point—scatter the formation, but keep together—we easily outnumber them, press into the city—remember, the city is the ultimate goal, we don’t have to get all of these out here!”

His troops did as he commanded, with startling success. As more and more troops were able to approach the city gate, the Bohrok seemed to let up fire. Artillery, armored by heavy protosteel, was gradually placed into position in front of the gate and a heavy barrage of fire began.

Within moments, the gates and large chunks of the surrounding walls had been destroyed. Bohrok streamed through the newly formed holes in the wall in retreat, chased by BZ-Metru troops. Bonesiii quickly halted his troops and ordered the formation to reorganize.

“They’re just Bohrok,” he yelled to his troops. “Fight for God and country, charge!”

With a massive yell, he stood to the side of the now gateless gateway as his beloved army charged forward into the city. The battle hadn’t been easy, but now that they were prepared for Bohrok it would be easy—after all, they still vastly outnumbered the Bohrok.

Needless to say, Bonesiii’s troops had charged into a veritable slaughterhouse. Those who were not immediately shot down were forced to branch off down alleyways and side streets. As Bonesiii charged in with one of the last regiments of troops, his eyes widened with shock and horror.

The sight that met him was not pretty. Hundreds of troops lay motionless on the cold ground, a far greater number than remained standing. Any soldier that had not yet fallen was in the process of being overtaken by as many as five Bohrok. Screams of terror and rapid fire Bohrok gunshots filled the air.

A crackling in Bonesiii’s ear distracted him for a brief moment. He dashed off down an alley, catching peace behind a dumpster.

“What is it?” he shouted into his mic piece.

The faint voice of one of his captains—Mysterious Minifig—crackled into his ear: “Sir, there are too many. I’ve martialled all the troops I can find into a small pedestrian square, but we’re being surrounded and escape chances are fading. Course of action?”

“Where are the other captains?” yelled Bonesiii.

“Dead. None of them are answering their mics.”

Bonesiii gulped. “I have the universal mic, I’ll order a retreat to your location and then give further instructions.”

He paused for a brief moment, formulating an entire battle plan in a matter of seconds. Mahalis’ army was behind him, the Bohrok army in front of him, and a wall to the south. There was only one thing he could do.

He pressed the red button on his jacket sleeve, which enable him to give orders to every troop fighting. “Retreat to GD. The north gate is heavily fortified and will allow a safe entry. Abandon the dead, abandon the wounded. The cause is lost, retreat to the north gate!”

Bonesiii got up from his crouch and sprinted down the alleyway, periodically checking over his shoulder for following Bohrok. He was ashamed at what he had just done—no general should ever order retreat, he had always reasoned. But the screams in the air told him that it was necessary. And he only hoped Toaraga hadn’t decided to enter the fray.



At that very moment, Toaraga was in the middle of making a decision that would ultimately save thousands of lives.

“Something isn’t right,” he remarked to his lieutenant, Eeko. “Bonesiii hasn’t contacted me yet, my line through to him isn’t working.”

Eeko shrugged. “It’s up to you then sir. We await your command.”

Toaraga looked off into the distance. If he charged into the city, and something had indeed gone horribly wrong, he would risk both his and Bonesiii’s troops. On the other hand, if he changed positions, he could be better able to aid a retreat into friendly territory…

“Eeko,” he said determinedly, “Sound the orders and inform Black Six. We march to GD, to defend the north gate. If something has gone wrong, and Bonesiii is in trouble, he will retreat to there. On the double!”



Upon arriving at the square, Bonesiii found just how ravaging his casualties had been. Of the eleven thousand troops who entered the city, scarcely five thousand remained. Half of that number was wounded and barely able to hold a gun, and the other half was without either gun or ammunition.

The Bohrok seemed to have paused in their assault, as if to give Bonesiii a chance to give a final speech before death. The general ascended to the base of a statue of Kex, as all eyes were glued to him.

“Soldiers of BZ-Metru,” he began, “we have lost. The war is over.”

Ripples of whispers spread throughout the crowd. Bonesiii raised his hand to silence his troops. “I will spare you the indignity of death. We will make an honorable retreat to GD, where I will advise Black Six to surrender.”

He turned away and ran a hand across his face.

“March to the north gate.”

The assembled troops did not move. They wondered why their commander had given up so easily, so cowardly…

“NOW!”

The shout got the attention of all, and what few officers remained led their regiments out of the square. Bonesiii leapt off the statue, remarking that even if the retreat were cowardly, at least it were peaceful.

In a final twist of irony, as this thought ran through his mind a bullet whizzed past his head. He turned to see the massive armies of Bohrok massing in the streets behind, charging forward.

“RUN!” Bonesiii yelled, aware that that single command would throw his troops into chaos—which it did. As one body they streamed down the narrow street, chased by a hail of bullets. A brave few turned to return fire, but they were quickly shot down.

What met Bonesiii when he came within view of the gate into GD was perhaps the one thing that saved him from utter despair: He hadn’t told the troops one vital bit of information, that the gate would most likely be closed. He had only ordered the retreat to delay the inevitable. But what he saw caused his heart to leap from its self dug grave.

The gate was open—and heavily guarded by Toaraga’s forces.

The fragmented BZ-Metru army poured into the city, covered by fire from Toaraga’s troops. As soon as the last person—Bonesiii—entered the city, the gate was closed and reinforced.

That night a meeting was held to discuss the future of the war—but when it came time for Bonesiii to speak, well, as much as he had controlled himself to that point… he wept.



Kex, Ninjo, and Bfahome walked slowly through the carnage, each taking a different perspective on the ravages of death around them. Kex saw it as a personal triumph. After being kept in the south to command an army of robots, maybe this massive victory would lead to bigger assignments… and a higher position of power once the war was over.
Ninjo had mixed feelings about it. He felt as though he were being divided in two, with one part—the more dominant—telling him that it was good. These strangers now lying on the ground dead around him had died for one ultimate purpose, a purpose that was good: to put Dimensioneer in power. But there seemed to be a voice in his head, a small, insignificant voice that had been plaguing him for weeks, that said “this is wrong.”

As for Bfahome… he kept a straight face through it all, that much is certain. But when he arrived at the private living quarters assigned to him for the night… he, too, wept.