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  1. NEW CHAPTERS EVERY WEDNESDAY Credit to TBK PRIOR READING Prelude - Book 1: Isolation - All Hail the King PREMISE Having survived a conference where nearly 200 Matoran were killed, a small group of survivors bands together with the residents of BZ-Koro, the island city where the conference was located. Hunted by operatives of the White Council and fighting against the mysterious forces of Project Mayhem, they must not only survive this latest onslaught, but also prepare for war. CHAPTERS Story Here Prologue - C1 - C2 - C3 - C4 - C5 - C6 - C7 - C8 - C9 - C10 - C11 - Epilogue THE ROLES This series is based on the Mafia games in the Games & Trivia forum; as such, some of the roles from those games are used as baselines within this tale. Pro-Town Matoran x12 - Ordinary Matoran; they vote, don't do much else. Medic x1 - Can protect one other person each night from death. Detective x1 - Can learn the role of one other person each night. Mayor x1 - Has double votes at the lynching. Armed Matoran x1 - Can kill one other player during the game. Anti-Town Mafia x5 - A group of Matoran trying to hunt everyone else down on the orders of a higher power. Cryo x1 - A Matoran who wields ice powers; kills one other person each night. Pyro x1 - A Matoran who wields fire powers; kills one other person each night. THE CHARACTERS Based upon members of BZPower; this is the main cast. Bolded links indicate that the character is a narrator in Book 2. Survivors of Bionicle Mafia: Book 1 - Isolation Luroka - Ehks - Portalfig - Sumiki - Lhikevikk - Pulse - Kayn - Locke - TBK - Voltex - Taka Nuvia - Automaton - Xaeraz - Burnmad - RG Newcomers in Bionicle Mafia: Book 2 - Extraction Shockwave - Tyler - Baltarc - Fishers/Agent 64 - Canis - Kaithas - Squishy - Vinylstep - Valendale - Hero - Meta - Xonar - Phantom Terror - MT - Fighty - White Thirteen So... you may review now! Share your thoughts!
  2. ---[Present Day]--- ---[Agent 64]--- Her midnight blue cloak fluttered behind her as she stalked through the hallway, ignoring the whispered conversations emanating from the slightly open doorways. Her armor, once sleek and white, had long ago been modified into an equally sleek but now midnight blue set to match the cloak, enabling a level of stealth usually not possible during the night. Her eyes glinted dangerously from behind her Kanohi Kualsi as she took in the world around her, analyzing her surroundings and storing the information away for later use. Halting before a plain white door with a plaque upon it, labelled with the number six, she knocked twice; pressing her thumb to the keypad on the side when a voice called “come in”. The door slid open with a faint hiss and gently clicking shut behind her once she was inside. The room she had entered was round, unlike most rooms inside the Coliseum. Everything in the room was also round; the desk, the chairs, and even the single diagram on the stark white wall. It all adhered to the tastes of the figure sitting at the desk, clad in a pure white cape and a set of matching armor. He beckoned her into the chair opposite him and she complied, studying him – despite his reputation as a Turaga, he seemed too... youthful in appearance to be one. They all appeared too young in appearances - especially compared to the likes of the other Turaga she had encountered in her various travels. She filed that particular train of thought away for later as he spoke: “You’re early.” “I was... in the vicinity when I received your summons,” she explained. “I figured the task I was performing could be delayed for our discussion.” “You thought correctly,” he said, nodding in approval. “I have heard rumors that you are working on another contract right now.” Alarm bells rang in her mind. She forced them down. “I was offered another contract and accepted it. It does not conflict with our current... agreements, or I would not have accepted.” “What can you tell me of this contract?” “I was paid to keep quiet about the details,” she said quietly, shrugging. “What did they pay you?” the White Turaga asked, sighing. “Two million.” “I shall plug three million into your account to override your agreement, then,” he said with a small smile. “I must admit, while it is useful, it is also quite a shame that your loyalties can be bought so... swiftly.” She shrugged again. “I’m a bounty hunter. I’m loyal to whoever pays best, and for awhile, that has been you.” “You would do well to keep that in mind,” he said, as a holographic display opened between them. Swiping through several screens, he input several commands and then nodded in satisfaction as the display vanished. “The three million has been added – please, enlighten me.” “I was hired by the Shadowed One,” she said, not caring in the slightest that she had just spoiled an extremely covert operation. “He is attempting to locate one of his Dark Hunters that has gone AWOL.” “Why does he need you?” the Turaga asked. “Surely his own Dark Hunters could be of more use?” “He doesn’t trust them to succeed,” she said. “The Dark Hunter in question is a De-Matoran codenamed ‘Vinylstep’; apparently his morals conflicted with those of the Dark Hunters and recently an argument with the Shadowed One escalated. He’s been missing ever since.” “I know of the Matoran,” the Turaga said absently. “Please continue. You have not explained why the Shadowed One would require an outside source.” “He described Vinylstep as his best agent,” she explained. “Despite his attempts to stop it, Vinylstep managed to learn the identities of every Dark Hunter barring the Shadowed One himself. He knew how every single one of his colleagues worked and was the most effective of them in every assignment. The Shadowed One told me that Vinylstep knew precisely how the organization worked, sometimes better than the Shadowed One himself. He attempted to have Vinylstep trailed, but the Matoran killed every Dark Hunter sent his way and has since vanished entirely. He believes that it would be impossible to capture Vinylstep with any of the Dark Hunters... hence me. He believes an outside source will be more effective.” The Turaga nodded, opening another display and inputting a couple commands; the display vanished and then flashed up on the wall, revealing a detailed file on the De-Matoran Vinylstep. “As you can see, Vinylstep has been upon our watch list for... quite some time,” the Turaga said. “You were in Ta-Metru?” “Yes,” she said, keeping her worry hidden. “He has not been there in months,” the Turaga said dismissively. “He is hiding in BZ-Koro.” “How do you know?” “We are the White Council,” the Turaga reminded her. “How we know something is of no importance to you. You must simply be able to realize that we do know.” “Yes sir.” “As such, your new contract does go against our... what did you call it?” the Turaga asked, pausing to think. “Ah yes, our agreement... I’m sure that you will not deny that this is an issue.” “Yes sir.” She said stiffly. “I do agree.” “You are lucky that it was I who summoned you,” the Turaga warned. “I am far more forgiving than some of my peers. Had it been, say, Turaga White One or Turaga White Ten, you would not be leaving this room. Disloyalty, even unintentionally, is not tolerated.” “Yes sir.” “I am overriding your contract with the Shadowed One,” the Turaga said. “You will receive fifteen million for each of the tasks I am going to have you complete.” “The Shadowed One will hunt me down,” she pointed out. “I will contact him – compensate him and promise him Vinylstep once we are finished with him,” the Turaga said, waving the issue away. “Both tasks are located on BZ-Koro. The first, of course, is to locate Vinylstep and deliver him to us – alive if possible, although I would be perfectly willing to see him dead.” “Of course, sir. The second?” The Turaga leaned forward. “Are you aware of the conference that was recently held on the island?” “I am,” she admitted. “Rumors have been... circulating about what is going on.” “We are lying to the public to avoid a catastrophic panic,” the Turaga said quietly. “The terrorist Xaeraz has, by design, overtaken the conference hall for the past three days. He killed nearly all of the two hundred-plus Matoran present; at our last count, there were twenty-three survivors that he has held hostage in some sort of twisted game of murder. One Matoran managed to escape the conference – a Su-Matoran by the name of RG.” “RG? Isn’t he that reporter for the Metru-Nui news network that blew up a chute on his first assignment?” she asked. The Turaga nodded. “Yes... we have held him in custody for the past several days as a... safety precaution. However, before we had him detained, he sought out the Ta-Matoran Burnmad.” “Is that an issue?” “It is. Burnmad disappeared from the public eye several years ago after we hired him as the leader of a covert force of law. Recently, we have had trouble with the entire group; Burnmad himself has disobeyed several orders in recent weeks, we had to execute a member for spilling our secrets to a dangerously powerful Matoran, three other members were killed in a skirmish with members of a group calling themselves ‘Project Mayhem’, and the final member, Voltex, had to be removed from play... although I fear our attempt was unsuccessful.” “You believe they are attempting a conspiracy against you?” “It is very possible,” the Turaga said gravely. “Xaeraz is living proof of it, and we have reason to believe that Burnmad may have been involved with him before... but that is none of your concern. What does concern you is your second target.” He waved his arm towards the display on the wall, which distorted before clearing again, this time revealing a face that she recognized immediately. “And what am I to do with this one?” she asked. “I want him dead,” the Turaga said coldly. “Give him no mercy.” “Yes sir.” Opening his mouth to speak again, the Turaga was interrupted as the door behind her hissed open. She whirled around in her seat to see another one of the Turaga, appearing exactly the same as the one seated at the desk minus the mask, skidding to a halt. “Hey Six, I-” the Turaga stopped short as he spotted her. “Greetings, Turaga White Four,” the Turaga at the desk said, stressing the second two words. “What do you need?” “I apologize, White Six, Agent 64” White Four said, bowing slightly. “I was unaware that your meeting had begun.” “It is of no matter, we were merely ironing out the final details of the new contract,” White Six responded tiredly, waving the issue away. “What did you need?” “Turaga White One has called each of us for a meeting,” White Four said. “The shadows have fallen away at Scenario Alpha.” White Six was on his feet to a flash, stalking over to White Four and placing a hand on the other Turaga’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. They both seemed to have forgotten that she was even still present in the room. “Where is Burnmad?” White Six asked, his tone urgent. “Where is he?” White Four shook his head. “He’s already gone – the tails we placed on him are dead.” Turaga White Six closed his eyes, stepping away with a defeated sigh. “That is most unfortunate. What about RG, and the other Matoran we had under watch?” “Burnmad collected them all,” White Four said grimly. “They’re going to extract the survivors.” “Agent 64, you are dismissed,” White Six said, turning to her. “I will have a pilot waiting for you down below with a helicopter. You are to leave for BZ-Koro immediately.” “Yes sir,” she said, standing to her feet. “Is there anything else I should know?” “Nothing that matters,” White Six said, pushing her out into the hallway lightly. “You are free to go.” Nodding, she stepped out into the hall, walking away without glancing back and going over everything that she had heard from the two Turaga. Something big was happening... something out of the control of the White Council. She had a feeling that Vinylstep would be the easier of the two targets she had been given. Considering his skills, that was a problem. She shook her head as she entered the elevator that would take her down to the grid, where her ride would be waiting. There was work to do. PROLOGUE ---[11 Years Ago]--- ---[burnmad]--- He double checked and triple checked his bright red and scarlet armor, his head pounding with anticipation. He could hear the roar of the crowd out in the stands, and not for the first time he wondered in the prep rooms were as sound-proof as Fighty claimed they were. Pre-fight jitters were the worst, he decided; especially the ones you got right before the final match of the season. The championship match, where the final two fighters battled it out to become the latest champion of Bionifight and become showered in fame and praise by the media and the fans... and even sponsors, sometimes. Although it was only the fourth season of Bionifight, it was easily the biggest method of entertainment in Metru-Nui, and ranked fifth overall in the universe, having rapidly expanded its viewership to islands such as Xia and Stelt. The effects of Bionifight had been profound; as a Matoran-only league of combatants beating the snot out of each other and having to recover quickly in order to keep up, medicine had been advancing rapidly. Matoran all over the known universe were being treated with more respect of all races as Bionifight showed what they were capable of – Toa were no longer forced to act as protectors of the Matoran, and could move onto other occupations with a higher survival rate. Burnmad, for his part, had been a member of the league right from the very beginning. He knew that he was one of the most popular fighters out there – as well as one of the most hated (mostly by his rivals and their fans). Those things came along for the ride with success... and he knew success. Out of four championship matches (if the one he was about to fight was counted), Burnmad had fought in three of them. The first match he had fought was in the second tournament; he had lost to Windrider, one of the older fighters with a unique style that no other fighter seemed able – or willing – to replicate. During the third tournament, he had analyzed Windrider’s style and modified his own style to work well against it. His gambit had paid off and he had beaten Windrider, becoming the new champion. Now, he was battling for the championship again at the end of the fourth tournament – but this time against a fighter with no name. The media, the fans, and even the other fighters had taken to calling his opponent “Orange”, after his pure orange armor. Nobody knew where his opponent came from, or what he was doing in Metru-Nui. All anyone knew for certain was that Orange would be retiring from Bionifight at the end of the season. On the bright side, at least if he lost, Burnmad would not have to spend another six months training himself against another combat style. A year ago I was facing off against Windrider, he thought, silently chuckling. How far things have come in a year.... Shaking his head, Burnmad tried to toss those thoughts away – while Bionifight had certainly exploded in a very good way, there were other rumored changes in Metru-Nui that he was not entirely sure that he approved of. Best not to think about it – he could not afford to be distracted. Not during this fight. He glanced up as his trainer-and-manager, poked her head into the room, calling: “Hey Burnmad, you’ve got five more minutes!” Managing a brief smile, he nodded to let her know that he had heard. Once she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, Burnmad stood from where he had been seated at the bench, stretching both of his arms and his legs slowly as he made his way over to the wall, where his weapons were propped up. Five minutes until show time, he thought. It’s a championship match, so the arena is in default mode. No obstacles, no modifications. Just an open, flat surface of sand underneath my feet and an orange Matoran to beat down. He strapped his health gauge onto his wrist, pressing a button to magnetize it so that it would not fall off during the fight and then pressing another button to activate it. The device currently read “100%”, with a fully green bar on its small screen. During the match, two large screens at either end would display the information on the health gauge of himself and his opponent to the audience. Next up was the armor – the week before each championship match, both fighters met to discuss and decide upon which equipment and weapons would be legal. Orange had wanted them to use nothing more than body armor and shoulder platers – Burnmad had agreed on the condition that they could use their regular weapons. With his armor in place, he grabbed his weapon – a rather nondescript red sword that, at first glance, was perfectly ordinary. By this point, everyone and their brother knew that was not the case; Burnmad needed to focus only a little for the sword to burst into flames, and it would remain on fire until he doused it in water. The sword had saved him in a tight situation many times – although the other fighters knew that it could burst into flames, in the heat of a duel it would often shock them just long enough for Burnmad to recover his wits first and take the advantage. Placing his sword into its fireproof sheathe and tying said sheathe around his waist, Burnmad turned to the mirror on the opposite wall that stretched from ceiling to floor and examined himself as his trainer entered the room again. “Are you ready?” she asked. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, flashing a nervous smile. “You’ll be fine,” she said, walking up and straightening one of his shoulder pads. “I like to think that I’ve done a good job if you’re the first Bionifighter to reach the championship match three times; and if you lose, then the fans will be all over on your side next season for a little ‘return to glory’ scenario.” “I guess you’re right,” Burnmad agreed, placing a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Should we go?” “Are you fighting today?” “...well, yeah.” “Then yes, we should go.” Rolling his eyes, Burnmad followed her out into the hall, where they took an immediate right, walking down a straight hallway towards the entrance into the arena, which was guarded by two Ko-Matoran armed with Kanoka launchers. “Good luck Burnmad,” said the guard on the right, giving him a little nod. “Thanks,” he managed, tightening his grip on his sword as they paused before the closed door. “Remember that losing isn’t the end of the world,” his trainer said softly, “but... if you do lose, I will take away your dessert privileges for a week.” “That’s not fair,” Burnmad muttered. “Life’s not fair,” she said brightly, opening the door to the blindingly bright arena. “Now go on out there and kick that Matoran around the block.” The door was swiftly shut and locked behind him as he entered the arena. The roaring in the stands grew louder as the first members of the audience spotted him and he took a deep breath, smiling and striding forward confidently for the camera into the center of the arena, where Orange was already waiting. “Sorry I’m late,” Burnmad said. Orange shrugged, as if to say ‘no big deal’ as a Matoran clad in silver armor descended from the stands on a floating platform powered by levitation disks, coming to a stop in between both fighters and glancing first to Orange, and then to Burnmad, with a questioning look in his gaze. Burnmad nodded imperceptibly and the Matoran – Fighty, creator of Bionifight – looked away. “Matoran of Metru-Nui; audiences of the universe!” Fighty yelled, his voice echoing around the arena and being broadcast to audiences across the universe. “I welcome you to the final battle of the fourth Bionifight tournament, between returning champion Burnmad, and a mysterious newcomer, whose name we do not even know – but he has taken up the title of ‘Orange’!” Burnmad stared at Orange, who stared back at him, neither of them reacting to whatever Fighty was spewing from his mouth. It was all for the audience. “Are you ready?” Fighty asked, not waiting for an answer as his platform slowly rose into the air again. “The fight begins in five... four... three... two... one!” The crowds grew silent as the fight began – or rather, as they waited for it to begin. Burnmad gripped the hilt of his sword with his left hand, and Orange reached back with his right arm for his battleaxe. The two slowly circled each other as the audience waited with bated breath. “Go ahead,” Burnmad said. “You first.” Orange shook his head, nodding back at him, and Burnmad let loose a sigh. Orange rarely made the first move in any battle, and it often cost his opponents the fight. Burnmad was determined not to let that happen to him too. So he shrugged, and said: “Have it your way. I can wait all day for you.” His opponent seemed to consider his words for a moment – and then the attack came, so fast that Burnmad almost failed to react, managing to dodge the swing of the battleaxe at the last second, drawing his sword to parry another blow less than a second later. The crowd started to scream out in support and jeers for both fighters and Burnmad automatically tuned them out, focusing only on his opponent as he matched another swing. His arms were vibrating from the blows, and Burnmad knew that he would have to disarm Orange before he lost control. He yelled and lunged forward, pressing the attack and swinging his sword rapidly, forcing Orange to play defense as Burnmad struck him with blow after blow, slowly starting to deplete Orange’s health gauge. Orange kicked at his leg and Burnmad jumped back to avoid it, both of them backing away and panting for breath. It was almost like it happened in slow-motion; he became hyper-aware as Orange lunged forward, stabbing at him with his battleaxe. He raised his sword to defend, realizing too late that Orange had counted upon him doing that – the battleaxe twisted, ripping his sword from his grasp before slamming into him. As he tumbled back, Burnmad kicked the battleaxe out of his opponent’s hand before collapsing. The health gauge still had him near full health, and he shrugged the blow off, standing back to his feet and looking for his sword. “Looking for this?” It was the first time he had heard Orange speak – and when he glanced over, he saw his own sword in his opponent’s hands. Burnmad slowly grabbed the battleaxe, which felt heavy and awkward in his hands. Not good. Orange leaped forward again, and now it was Burnmad forced on the defensive, trying to parry a multitude of lightning fast blows that he could not keep up with. His own sword slashed at his arms and legs again and again as he failed to master the new weapon in his hands. Knowing he was rapidly losing the fight, Burnmad made one last desperate move – he threw the axe. His opponent sliced upwards and deflected it with ease. Burnmad watched as the sword burst into flames and Orange stepped forward, thrusting the sword towards him. Burnmad felt the burning blade pierce his armor and cut through his side with a hiss, and he groaned in pain as Orange pulled it out again, stabbing the sword into the sand. Burnmad was vaguely aware of his health gauge beeping to announce his defeat as he sank to his knees and medical personnel rushed onto the arena. “Good fight,” Orange said, crouching beside him. “Good fight...” Burnmad mumbled, as the darkness over took his vision. --- He woke up a couple hours later, as something was shaking. He could feel it through the darkness the surrounded him – a great shuddering of the earth. Or perhaps it was him.... He could hear something – or someone – talking, although it was muffled, as though he were underwater. He focused on the sound and it slowly became clearer the longer he listened. “...need to wake up now, or we’ll be late,” the voice was saying. “You said you had that super important business meeting, right?” Forcing his eyes to open, Burnmad blinked at the harsh lights the shone down upon him, twisting his head to glare at the Matoran of Plantlife seated beside his bed in the medical bay. “What’re you doing here, Squishy?” Burnmad asked, his voice scratchy. “Trying to wake you up,” the other Matoran said. “You have that meeting at the bar in Ta-Metru in... thirty minutes, I think.” That was enough to wake him – the Ta-Matoran was sitting up in a flash, his legs swinging off the bed. Ignoring Squishy’s sound of protest, Burnmad hopped off the bed and landed on the floor, reaching out to grip Squishy’s shoulder when his legs almost gave out beneath him. “Help me out,” Burnmad said. “I can’t miss this meeting.” “Of course not,” Squishy grumbled. “Will you go by chute, or...?” “Chute,” Burnmad affirmed. “Nothing else is fast enough.” “The station is about five minutes away.” “Not a problem.” They limped along in silence, as the strength slowly trickled back into Burnmad’s limbs. As they reached the chute station, he finally spoke: “What happened after I passed out?” “Orange helped the medical team carry you out of the arena,” Squishy said. “He refused the victory speech and the trophy – just vanished out of there without a trace. I don’t think he plans on coming back.” “He spoke to me,” Burnmad muttered, flashing back to the scene in his mind. “Only a little, but he did speak....” “Well, I guess we can be sure he’s not mute,” Squishy said with a smile as they came to a stop before the chute. “Technically we’re supposed to wait here until the station opens officially, but....” “I don’t have time for that,” Burnmad said, turning to the Bo-Matoran. “Stay safe on the streets there, pal. We should catch up over coffee or something.” “Sounds like a plan.” “I’ll message you,” Burnmad said, walking towards the chute. “See ya!” Without waiting for a response from Squishy, Burnmad dove into the chute and was immediately sucked to the left, quickly speeding around a bend towards Ta-Metru. The particular chute he was riding in was faster than most, designed specifically for the staff and fighters in Bionifight in case of more serious medical emergencies, as BZ-Metru had no hospitals staffed well-enough to deal with the situations Bionifight created. While most chutes would have taken a full hour to travel the distance this chute covered, it would take Burnmad only fifteen minutes – leaving him plenty of time to make it to his meeting. If he was honest with himself, he was worried and, maybe, a little scared. He was meeting with three other Matoran to discuss an issue that could, possibly, end with all four of them being imprisoned. Or killed. Nearing the Ta-Metru station, Burnmad shook the thoughts away as he leaned to the side, skimming the surface of the chute before pushing through and somersaulting through the air to land on his feet, stumbling forward as he gained his balance. Ignoring the glances from the other Matoran nearby, he set his gaze on the White Wolf Pub & Inn across the street and made his way towards it. The White Wolf was older than most of the buildings around it, still constructed out of a dark, oaken wood rather than the protodermis that was so common nowadays. Burnmad pushed on the door and a bell hanging above jingled lightly as it opened, although it was nearly impossible to hear above the roaring of the Matoran crowded around every table in the pub. Not a single seat open, Burnmad thought, noting that there seemed to be entire groups forced to stand. It’s rather busy today... although I can’t say I’ve ever seen it empty. “How may I help you today, sir?” a voice asked from beside him. Turning, Burnmad saw the owner of the pub standing beside him with a dishrag in his hands. He was idly wiping down a mug, though his attention seemed occupied everywhere else. “I’m looking for a table reserved for, uh... ‘FAX’,” Burnmad said. “Follow me, then,” the owner said, turning away. “They’re in the back.” ‘FAX’ was a stupid acronym, representing the names of three Matoran (Burnmad still was not sure why they could not add a ‘B’ for ‘Burnmad’ into it) – the three Matoran that he was meeting with tonight. “Here you are,” the White Wolf owner said, stopping beside a door. “Let me know when you lot are done with it.” “I will,” Burnmad promised. The owner nodded, satisfied, and returned to the main pub – Burnmad, meanwhile, stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it. “You made it,” said a Matoran who looked as though he had been cobbled together from a junkyard. “We were beginning to think that you’d be out cold all evening!” “Not a chance, Xaeraz,” Burnmad chuckled, grabbing the final seat at the small table in the center of the room. “Hey Fighty, hey Agni.” “’Sup,” said Agni, a Ta-Matoran like himself. “Heard you got beat down pretty bad.” “Maybe I did,” Burnmad said, before deciding to deflect the conversation. “Xaeraz, what happened to you?” “Don’t ask,” the Fe-Matoran muttered. Alright. New topic. “So I’m going to assume all four of us know why we’re here?” “We do,” Xaeraz confirmed. “Fighty?” The silver-clad owner of Bionifight leaned forwards. “Rumors are abound all over the city that a... transfer of power has taken place without the population being made aware. Black Six has not been sighted since early last week; Tufi and Dimensioneer both missed the opening of a new museum in Ga-Metru just yesterday.” “A hostile takeover, then?” Burnmad asked. “I’m not sure,” Fighty admitted. “My sources are telling me that it is hostile – that this new group plans to subvert the entire city to their will, and eventually extend that control to the known universe. My plan is to stop them before they can accomplish any of that.” “We might be too late already,” Xaeraz growled. “If they’ve taken over Metru-Nui and kicked the rightful rulers out, that means they have the law enforcement on their side.” “You’re right,” Fighty said, sighing. “So we need to scout around a little bit. Gather some followers, get a group going. And once we fight back...” “You sound like you assume that this new group is going to be some team of villains,” Burnmad muttered. “Maybe they are,” Agni guessed. “Who else takes over a city without telling anybody?” Burnmad decided to concede it to him. “You have a point.” “It’ll be a guerilla war,” Fighty warned them. “Lots of attrition. Low on any supplies we gather. And we’ll need total secrecy – nobody can know that we’re in charge of this thing. If they do, it could reach this new group, and, well... I’m not too eager to find out what happened to Black Six.” “Do we know when this group struck exactly?” Burnmad asked. “It’s tough to say,” Fighty said. “Black Six disappeared last week, but Tufi and Dimensioneer didn’t vanish for a few days afterward. We know that Matoran stopped seeing Zatth out in public days ago, and we all thought the retirement of Janus a few weeks ago was more than a little suspicious... but then, Deevee, Sumiki and Takuma are all still active.” “Does Sumiki even count?” Burnmad asked. “I mean, he’s the CEO of Hat Enterprises. The only connection he has is that he’s an official funder of city projects.” “That still leaves Deevee and Takuma active though,” Agni pointed out. “If the others are dropping from the public eye, why aren’t they?” “I know that Takuma was visiting Stelt last week,” Xaeraz said. “And Deevee has been overseeing that ambassador project in Xia. They might have been deemed too risky to target at this time.” “There are a few others still active,” Fighty said, “but it’s hard to say if any of them realize that something is wrong. I know that Windrider approached me yesterday, and he didn’t say much, but... it was enough.” “Should we try and get to them before this mystery group does?” Burnmad asked. “Would that be possible?” “I’m not so sure,” Fighty said, sighing again. “I mean, Takuma... maybe we could get to him. But Deevee? He’ll be on Xia for another few months yet, assuming he doesn’t disappear – and the likes of Sumiki and Windrider are too risky to put into hiding.” “So we get the general public,” Burnmad decided. “We form a resistance, and we make sure everyone knows that Metru-Nui will not be overtaken without a fight.” “Sounds like a plan,” Xaeraz agreed. “All in favor?” “Aye,” the other three said in unison. “Then it’s decided,” Xaeraz said with a grin, a glint in his eye. “Let’s get started.” REVIEW TOPIC
  3. ALL HAIL THE KING [TRANSMISSION FROM CONTROL] [MESSAGE FROM WHITE FOUR TO AGENT 64] [NEW MISSION: ASSASSINATE KING OF ILIAS. PARTNER WITH AGENT 19 FOR MISSION. MAINTAIN STEALTH AT ALL COSTS. MAKE CONTACT WITH BA-MATORAN DRAXAS, CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD. PAYMENT WILL BE THE USUAL.] She deactivated the holographic display of her communicator and re-attached it to her belt, frowning slightly as she stood from her crouching position. Her midnight blue cloak fluttered lightly in the breeze as she gazed across the landscape of Odina, and the Dark Hunter fortress in the distance. It appeared that her current bounty would have to wait – orders from Control were so secret that she had never breathed a word of them to any other employer... mostly because they paid more than all of her other employers combined. Never had she wondered where they received all of those funds from – not that she would have cared about the methods if she found out. It was all business; nothing more. With a small sigh, she pulled a small device from her cloak and pressed a button, activating it and dropping it to the ground at her feet with a thud. Electricity crackled around the device before rapidly expanding and swallowing her form whole – and then she was gone. --- Stepping out of the electrical energy field and narrowing her eyes behind her Kualsi, she made her way briskly out of the chamber, ignoring the surprised stammering of the Onu-Matoran on transport duty. If she knew Control, he would be silenced by the morning. As she approached the mission control center, she pulled out her communicator and rapidly tapped in a message to her partner and sending it. [MESSAGE FROM AGENT 64 TO AGENT 19] [MEET ME IN MISSION CONTROL CENTER IMMEDIATELY. NEW MISSION ASSIGNED FROM WHITE COUNCIL.] “I’m here, tell me what’s going on,” she ordered as she entered the control center. “Hold up,” a voice said from behind her as a Matoran of Plantlife staggered into the room, gasping for breath. “You can’t just start without me! I’m your partner for the mission.” “I don’t need you here to complete the mission, Nineteen, or even to know what is going on,” she said. “Always such a pleasure to work with,” Agent 19 grumbled, turning to a Ta-Matoran leaning on a table in the center of the room. “So what are we working with?” Agent 64 stalked forwards as the Ta-Matoran spoke: “Your mission is to go to the island of Ilias. It’s a smaller island, probably about half the size of Ta-Metru in both size and population. But they all serve a king – Turaga Rone.” “What’s the mission?” asked Agent 19, his forest green armor clinking as he shifted. “To assassinate Turaga Rone,” Agent 64 said curtly, before the attendant could answer. “We’re to establish contact with Draxas, the Captain of the Guard, and work our way into the castle to kill him.” “And what’s the reason this time?” “He officially declared the island of Ilias hostile towards the White Council last week,” the Ta-Attendant explained. “Control received the transmission this morning.” “Why did I only receive it now, then?” Agent 64 asked, leaning over the Ta-Attendant, who cowered slightly. “I... I think Control was debating whether to give the mission to you,” the Attendant stammered. “The White Council hasn’t requested specific agents before... it’s unprecedented.” “Obviously Control deemed it fine,” Agent 64 muttered, not bothering to contain her irritation. “It was still a waste of time, though.” “Did Control deem it fine?” Agent 19 asked. “Or was it something else?” “Like what?” The Bo-Matoran’s eyes flicked to the Attendant and around the room before he shook his head and sighed. “Never mind – I’ll fill you in later.” Rolling her eyes behind her mask, Agent 64 turned back to the Attendant – only to find him having carefully placed himself on the opposite side of the table. Casually she flicked out her knife before slamming her fist on the table, blade sticking in the air and lighting on fire. “Finish explaining so that I can do my job,” she ordered. The Ta-Matoran gulped, but flicked a switch on the side of the table, upon which a hologram of a small crescent shaped island rose up. It displayed the image of a large castle dominating the center of the island, with a town and a few small farms spreading outwards from the castle. “As I said, Turaga Rone declared Ilias hostile to the White Council last week,” the Attendant said. “The two parties have been exchanging the typical passive-aggressive political talk ever since, but it’s becoming clear that Rone is standing firm in his decision. All the White Council told Control was that they were tired of his insolence, but it’s obvious that they need Ilias to remain at least neutral towards them.” “Otherwise nothing’s stopping other powers from turning on the White Council too,” Agent 19 said. “That’s probably correct,” the Attendant said, before zooming in towards the castle on the hologram. “Over here, the eastern wing – that’s where you’ll enter the castle. Commander Draxas is supposedly housed in the southeastern section of the castle, so you shouldn’t have too far to go. After that... well, there weren’t really any specific instructions beyond what was in the transmission. The White Council doesn’t seem to have any other results in mind for this mission.” “What a relief,” Agent 19 said drily. “Such a blessing.” “Shut up and have more respect for our employers,” Agent 64 snapped, returning her knife back to its place within her cloak and stalking to the door. “Let’s go – weapons bay might have some tools we’re lacking... although I doubt it.” --- In a burst of light, both agents appeared on the shoreline of Ilias, having been teleported directly from Control. Presumably, their quick entrance would aid with maintaining the secrecy of the mission. “Don’t you feel like Control is doing it wrong?” Agent 19 asked, breaking the silence immediately. “Doing what wrong?” Agent 64 asked. “All of this,” Agent 19 said, waving his arms to indicate the expanse of land in front of them. “We’ve been sent here to assassinate a king and put another party into power, one that supports what is admittedly a group of tyrants. This is work for the Dark Hunters - Control has never stooped so low before. We’re supposed to be a vigilante justice group.” “Our job is to follow the orders that Control gives us,” Agent 64 said curtly. “If you are unable to follow those orders….” “I’m perfectly able,” Agent 19 snapped. “But I’m also perfectly able to refuse those orders. I can take them back to Control and lodge a complaint - at worst, it’ll delay the mission a few weeks.” “That sounds an awful lot like directly disobeying orders,” Agent 64 said quietly. “You risk the wrath of the White Council and Control… and worst of all, you risk bringing me down with you. I cannot allow that.” Before Agent 19 could react, she was already moving; whipping an electrical rod from her hip, she activated it and clubbed her partner in the neck, shocking Agent 19 and blasting him to the ground on his knees. She pulled out her communicator. “What are you doing?” Agent 19 asked, attempting to stand. She kicked him back to the ground, touching the rod to his neck again. “Getting permission.” [MESSAGE FROM AGENT 64 TO CONTROL] [REQUEST PERMISSION TO ELIMINATE AGENT 19. BREACH OF SECURITY PROTOCOL AND CONTRACT WITH WHITE COUNCIL.] The reply came less than a minute later, as Agent 19 woozily began to shake his head. [TRANSMISSION FROM CONTROL] [REQUEST GRANTED.] Wordlessly, she deactivated the electrical rod and attached it back to her hip, pulling out a customized Nynrah Blaster and firing once. The specialized projectile handed control of Agent 19’s body over to her, and her partner quickly stood before walking into the ocean. He ducked into the water, and did not reappear. Agent 64 left without glancing back. --- “I was expecting there to be two of you,” Draxas said as he let her in at the gates. “Where is your partner?” The Captain’s armor was a midnight blue, the exact same shade as Agent 64’s cloak; it was a stark contrast to her shining white armor. Draxas’s Kanohi Hau gave an appearance of one who would defend the virtues of honor and integrity until death came to take him… although that obviously was not the case. “His contract expired,” she said. “Where is your King? I want this done now.” “He is currently situated in the court; many Matoran are present.” “I need a vantage point to snipe him from afar.” The Captain of the Guard looked as if he were going to argue before changing his mind and nodding along, pointing up at one of the towers. “That one will give you your vantage point. How long do you need?” “Five seconds to get up, fifteen to set myself up, five to find the king and end his life,” Agent 64 listed. “After that I’ll vanish and you won’t ever see me again.” “As you wish,” Draxas said. The Captain stepped back into the shadows, his eyes glinting in the darkness before he vanished completely. Agent 64 remained where she was for a brief moment longer before pulling out an oddly shaped blaster and firing a small disk up into the tower; a second later she vanished from where she had been standing and reappeared in position. Once she arrived, she pulled out what at first glance was merely a tube of metal - however, with the push of a button pieces began to slide out and click into place, until she was holding a sniper rifle in her arms. Here goes, she thought. Zooming in, she swept the crosshairs across the King’s court, smiling grimly when she found Turaga Rone standing five feet away from his throne. Before circumstance could ruin her shot, she fired; the crack echoed into the sky and down below Matoran began to scream as Turaga Rone collapsed, his mask shattering and his head a bloody mess. Agent 64 clicked the button again, causing the sniper rifle to collapse back into the tube from before as she threw down a metal pad on the floor and spoke into her communicator. “This is Agent 64. Mission complete, requesting evac.” She could hear guards racing up the stairs towards her. The teleporter pad began to glow with a white light and she stepped onto it, vanishing in a flash of light and reappearing back at base, where the Attendant was waiting. “Where’s Agent 19?” the Attendant asked. “Dead,” she said. “Expired contracts tend to be fatal.” The Attendant scurried off, leaving her with a moment to send off a message. [MESSAGE FROM AGENT 64 TO CONTROL] [MISSION COMPLETE. TURAGA RONE DEAD. AGENT 19 CONSIDERED OFFICIAL CASUALTY.] She had only just sent the message when she received another transmission: [TRANSMISSION FROM WHITE COUNCIL] [MESSAGE FROM WHITE FOUR TO AGENT 64] [THE WHITE COUNCIL IS PLEASED WITH YOUR EFFORTS THUS FAR. REQUEST A PRIVATE MEETING IN ONU-METRU IN SIX DAYS TIME. WE HAVE A VARIETY OF JOB OFFERS TO MAKE YOU. DO NOT INFORM CONTROL.] The Ko-Matoran narrowed her eyes, reading the message over twice before allowing it to sink in. Once it had, she smirked and continued on her way, sending one final message: [MESSAGE FROM AGENT 64 TO WHITE FOUR] [YOU CAN COUNT ON MY ARRIVAL.] It was time to move up in the world. End. As a whole, I'm not entirely certain that I like this piece; nonetheless, this short story is a part of the Bionicle Mafia epic series that I have been writing, All Hail the King serves as a companion to the upcoming Bionicle Mafia: Book 2 - Extraction, where Agent 64 will be one of the points of view. "Agent 64" is the representation of fishers64 in-universe, although this is one where I took a little more artistic liberties than usual with the character's lifestyle. Despite any differences, fishers/"Agent 64" has so far been one of my favorite characters in the series to write for; compared to most characters her true morals, thoughts and opinions are often either unsure or conflicting, and that makes it interesting as an author. She plays a very important role in the upcoming epic, though I won't spoil what it is. Three out of six(?) points of view revealed! As for the other characters in this short story (Agent 19, Draxas, the Attendant, and sort of Turaga Rone), don't worry about seeing them again. You probably won't. Anyway that's enough out of me. I need to get back to writing that epic.
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