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BIONICLE MAFIA: BOOK 2 - Extraction


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---[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.

 

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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.”

 

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CHAPTER ONE

 

---[17 Years Ago]---

---[unknown]---

 

If he was honest with himself, he did not want to be here. If he was really honest with himself, the only reason that he did not want to be here was because he had no idea what was going on. He was fairly certain that it was his fault – they had been discussing the meeting for weeks – but... that changed nothing.

 

“Hey,” the deceivingly black and blue Matoran sitting beside him said, nudging him lightly. “You look spaced out.”

 

He glanced around the circular wooden table they were all seated at, in the middle of a room with gray walls. They were underground, and this room was located underneath a deserted building in a deserted village on a deserted island.

 

They had no idea why it was deserted – nor did they care.

 

“I’m not really sure what we’re doing here,” he admitted. “I, uh, may not have been listening at any of the previous meetings.”

 

The Av-Matoran beside him (they were all Av-Matoran, really; just different preferences about their armor color) face palmed with a sigh, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless.”

 

“Shut up, Kar,” he snapped.

 

Kar gave a small chuckle before the dark blue and gray Matoran across the table smacked a hammer down upon the wooden surface, silencing the other twelve Matoran in the room. If he was remembering correctly, the Matoran with the hammer was called “Void”. Bets had been made by some of the others that it was not a real name, but of course nobody ever found out the truth.

 

“Alright everyone, listen up and remain silent,” Void ordered. “As you all know, it was... difficult, shall we say, to organize this meeting. The universe is changing, and it grows difficult for even just thirteen Av-Matoran to gather outside of our native Karda-Nui without attracting attention.”

 

“You’re right about that,” an orange and red Matoran muttered.

 

“I’m sure some of you-” Void sent a glance his way, and he looked away before Void continued, “have no idea why we are here. Is that correct?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Kar said from beside him.

 

Void nodded. “We have gathered here to form a council – the White Council. Today, we shall shed our names and our armor colors, and we shall unite under one banner. Thirteen members, thirteen numbers – that is all the world shall know of us from this point forth. Our aim is to take hold of Metru-Nui at some point in the future as the governing body. Once we have done that, we shall act upon further plans that were discussed at the last two meetings. Does everyone understand?”

 

He understood nothing, and was beginning to wish he had paid attention – but he nodded along with the others regardless. Void smiled grimly, before pointing to himself; Void’s armor colors faded away, until he was pure white.

 

“From this point on, I shall be known as White One,” he said, before pointing to the black and purple Matoran beside him. “Rexus, you know what to do – and you shall, from this point forth, be known as White Two.”

 

Rexus complied, and his armor faded into a pure white much like the newly-christened White One’s had. White One pointed to the next Matoran, colored blue and green, who did the same. He repeated the process with each Matoran in order; white and gray, burnt orange and tan, green, black and blue, black and orange, blue, orange and red, yellow and blue, brown, and finally himself – silver – each became pure white.

 

“Welcome to the White Council,” White One said, opening his arms. “You are White Two, White Three, White Four, White Five, White Six, White Seven, White Eight, White Nine, White Ten, White Eleven, White Twelve, and White Thirteen.”

 

He shifted at the sound of his new name – White Thirteen – ignoring the distaste he felt with the name. It would begin to feel normally eventually (he hoped), and until then he would just have to deal with it.

 

“The Council is dismissed for today,” White One said. “White Nine, please remain behind to help me set up the gas.”

 

“What are you doing with gas?” White Thirteen asked, before he could hold the question back. Kar – no, White Seven – sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

“We must burn the building down,” White One answered, waving him away. “No trace must remain.”

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

His black armor and silver Volitak shining in the sunlight, and his dark cloak flapping in the wind stirred up by the spinning rotor blades above him, the Ba-Matoran Voltex waited silently as the bright red Ta-Matoran before him waved for the others to join him.

 

The Ta-Matoran was Burnmad – the leader of a covert team of six Matoran (of whom Voltex was one) serving secretly under the White Council, the current governing body of Metru-Nui. Burnmad had led an extraction team and two helicopters from Metru-Nui to the neighboring island-city of BZ-Koro, where Voltex and several other Matoran had been stranded within a conference hall for days, forced to partake in a bloody game of murder organized by the most wanted criminal in Metru-Nui’s history.

 

Build the wall, Voltex thought to himself, repeating the mantra again and again within his head as if thinking the words enough would stop the tide of anger that threatened to wash over him. They have done nothing to deserve it, just push it down....

 

A red-armored hand being waved in front of his face snapped him out of his thoughts and he shook his head to clear it, blinking as he turned to Burnmad and frowned. “What?”

 

“You were out of it,” the Ta-Matoran replied, looking worried. “Did something happen?”

 

“Many things have happened,” Voltex snapped before he could stop himself. “I... it has been a long week, that’s all.”

 

Burnmad nodded, his gaze sympathetic. Voltex fought the urge to smack him as the rotor blades above them began to slow down, reducing the volume level of the area back to normal. Both Matoran observed the blades until they finally whirred to a halt, at which point Burnmad pointed over to the other helicopter as the side slid open and three Matoran stepped out.

 

“Say hello to the extraction team,” he said.

 

Voltex said nothing, instead fighting back a snort of derision as the familiar faces hopped out of the other helicopter one by one. An electric blue Matoran sprinted over to them with a wide grin on his face, and before Voltex could react he had been swept up in a massive hug.

 

“You’re alive!” the Matoran exclaimed, setting him back on the pavement and clapping his hands together. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it!”

 

“Yes, I’m still alive,” Voltex said drily, dusting himself off with his hands and rolling his eyes. “I’m sure it’s a pleasure to see you too, RG.”

 

“It’s not much,” Burnmad said as the other two stopped beside them, “but it’s what I was able to get on last minute notice. The White Council had me on watch for the last week and we barely made it out of Metru-Nui with the window we had as it was.”

 

“Automaton and Taka Nuvia,” Voltex said, sparing the Le-Matoran and Av-Matoran each a glance before returning his attention to Burnmad. “A conspiracy theorist, an artist, and a reporter known for blowing up a chute during his first day of work... is that really the best you could do?”

 

“Is this a bad time?” RG asked nervously.

 

“Never mind,” Voltex said with a sigh, shaking his head and turning away. “Come on, follow me... I’m sure everyone else is glad to see you.”

 

“And you aren’t?” he heard Automaton mutter from behind him.

 

Clenching his fists at his side and desperately trying to avoid any thoughts involving the Repulsor Arm – a device invented by the late JiMing that was now a permanent fixture on his right arm – Voltex started walking away, forcing Burnmad and the others to follow as he made his way over to the other survivors of the conference hall incident.

 

“What was it like in Isolation?” RG asked.

 

“...what?” Voltex asked, confused.

 

“Isolation,” RG repeated, before quick saying, “it’s what everyone is calling the conference hall incident. Because y’know, you were isolated from the rest of the world when those weird shadow walls came up and everything-”

 

“You don’t want to know,” Voltex said, cutting the electric blue reporter short.

 

“Oh,” RG said, deflating. “Okay then.”

 

“Why aren’t you being swarmed with police?” Burnmad asked, breaking the silence before it could become awkward.

 

“I don’t know,” Voltex snapped, sighing and rubbing his eyes. “I just got out. Pulse thinks something is wrong with BZ-Koro.”

 

“I’ve heard rumors of the sort, but I didn’t really think they were true,” Burnmad replied, ignoring the Ba-Matoran’s argumentative tone. “I suppose they are.”

 

“Rumors?” Voltex asked, curious despite his misplaced anger.

 

“Rumor has it that a group calling themselves ‘Project Mayhem’ popped up awhile ago,” Burnmad explained. “They’ve been committing acts of vandalism and other various crimes, though if the rumors are true, nobody really knows why they’re doing it. I’d know more, but... word also has it that Metru-Nui and BZ-Koro aren’t exactly friendly with each other, so communication has been limited.”

 

Voltex gave a noncommittal grunt, shrugging as an orange and white clad Su-Matoran sprinted over to them.

 

“Pulse,” Burnmad said from behind him. “So you made it, then?”

 

“Yeah,” the Su-Matoran said, turning to Voltex and handing him a small round device.

 

The Ba-Matoran glanced down at the device. “What is it?”

 

“Telescope, press this button,” Pulse said, pointing to said button on the side. “Ehks just whipped it up – turns out he’s rather good with technology too.”

 

“What a surprise,” Voltex said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

“Anyway,” Pulse continued, “take a look – we’ve got three police cruisers heading our way, finally. So BZ-Koro does have some semblance of normality or whatever.”

 

Voltex pressed the button and the telescope rapidly extended in his hands before all of the parts clicked into space, and he raised it to his eye. Pulse guided him until the telescope was pointed at the three cruisers, which were quickly getting closer.

 

“Let’s hope they’re friendly,” Voltex said, inwardly sighing. “They should reach us in a minute.”

 

“How’re you doing?” Pulse asked softly, so that the extraction team could not hear. “I can tell that something’s up with you.”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the Ba-Matoran responded, collapsing the telescope and handing it back to him. “If you would please get out of my face about everything, I would really appreciate it.”

 

Stomping off, he tried to ignore the strange looks being sent his way as the other Matoran stared at him. Swerving another direction entirely to avoid the other survivors, he found a large rock with a flat top and climbed on top before sitting down on the edge. The edge of the island was less than twenty feet away, and the liquid protodermis lapped up against the shoreline quietly, the otherwise silent area soothing his nerves and calming him down. Rubbing his eyes again, Voltex sighed.

 

He sat there for a full five minutes before footsteps from behind alerted him to the approach of one of the other Matoran.

 

“Leave me alone,” he snapped.

 

“If I could, I would,” a voice he was less familiar with snapped back.

 

Turning to put a face to the name, Voltex recognized the Po-Matoran TBK – a comic maker with a rapidly growing fanbase that had refused to help the White Council with propaganda work.

 

“Of course you can leave me alone,” he said, glaring at the other Matoran.

 

“Nah,” TBK said, shrugging. “The police arrived.”

 

“So?”

 

“So they want to speak with you,” TBK said slowly, as if explaining it to a Rahi.

 

“Don’t patronize me,” Voltex snapped. “There’s no need for me to speak with them. Someone else can deal with it.”

 

“Burnmad has already explained why he landed two helicopters on the island without permission,” TBK said. “They wanted to speak with the survivors of the incident, specifically their leader.”

 

“I’m not the leader,” Voltex said.

 

“Coulda fooled me,” TBK said, snorting. “You organized us against Kayn, you were the one to take down Unit, it was you who had that little sparring match with Sumiki, it was you that Luroka tried to kill, it was you that met Burnmad when he arrived... need I go on?”

 

The Ba-Matoran waved it off, shaking his head. “Ehks was the one who organized the lynching of Scanty though, even if he was incorrect at the time.”

 

“But he did that on your orders,” TBK pointed out. “It’s all you.”

 

“That’s a load of Karzahni,” Voltex snapped. “I’m no leader!”

 

“Well, you are now!” TBK snapped back. “I don’t know what Luroka did to you, Voltex, and I’m not sure what has you so bloody riled up, and quite frankly, I don’t really care. All I want to do is get off of this godforsaken island and go home and have some peace and quiet! So grow up, deal with it, and go talk to the officer!”

 

Voltex was on his feet in a flash, stalking over to the Po-Matoran with his cloak fluttering behind him as he stopped right in front of TBK, staring the Po-Matoran down. TBK met his glare, holding it defiantly.

 

“I was one of the best fighters in Bionifight,” Voltex said quietly. “Do you really want to be on the receiving end of my abilities?”

 

“Go ahead,” TBK said vehemently. “Keep in mind that you’ve already committed murder on this island – one more will just give the law enough proof to pin it all on you.”

 

Clenching his fist as his throat tightened, Voltex shut his eyes and stepped back, turning away to face the sea again before slumping. “I didn’t want to – it was the only way for us to get out.”

 

“I know that,” TBK said, more softly this time. “Look, Voltex... I’m not sure what happened, and you don’t need to tell me – but whether you like it or not, you are our leader right now, and... if you start giving in to whatever is trying to drag you down... we’re all going to collapse with you.”

 

Sighing, Voltex nodded. “Alright then – I’ll talk... for a little bit. Where is he?”

 

“Right here,” another voice said. “I heard some raised voices and decided I’d come on over and investigate, seeing as I’m in charge of this investigation. You’re Voltex, I assume?”

 

“I am,” Voltex responded, not facing the newcomer. “What did you hear?”

 

“Nothing important – I might be a Sonics Matoran, but I don’t eavesdrop. I’d appreciate it if you could face me, however – it’s generally more respectful.”

 

Fighting the urge to snap at the newcomer, Voltex turned to face him – he wore black and silver armor, and though there was a handgun holstered to his hip, he seemed relaxed. Deeming it unlikely that a physical confrontation would take place, Voltex relaxed in turn, leaning against the rock as TBK excused himself and began walking back to the rest of the group.

 

“So who are you?” Voltex asked.

 

“Sergeant Canis, but you can just call me Canis,” the De-Matoran said, crossing his arms. “I’m in charge of investigating anything that could be related to Project Mayhem – so naturally, I’m here. Can I ask what’s on your arm?”

 

The Ba-Matoran glanced down to his right arm – he had been fiddling with the Repulsor Arm again. Clearing his throat, he said: “It’s called the Repulsor Arm. JiMing – one of the Matoran that was at the conference – built it before he was killed. It’s... difficult to explain, but basically, I can do this.”

 

Raising his arm to the sky, Voltex fired a beam straight into the air before lowering his arms and crossing them, giving a shrug to Canis, who, alarmed, had taken a step back and had a hand resting upon his holster.

 

“Don’t worry,” Voltex said. “It’s like... I can control it. It fires when I want it to. It’s wired right into me.”

 

“It’s pretty advanced,” Canis noted warily.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s just a prototype, though – the blueprints JiMing had... it’s supposed to be armored on the outside, probably to protect the circuitry and everything. But it’s worked well enough for me this far.”

 

Canis nodded. “While we’re on the topic... I’d like to ask you what happened. We’ve been trying to get into the conference hall for several days now – needless to say, we have been unable to.”

 

“Why did it take you so long to get here?” Voltex asked, ignoring the question.

 

“We had... other issues to attend to,” Canis said, before prompting, “the conference?”

 

“Right...” Voltex said, trailing off. “Basically, Xaeraz seized control, and a Makuta blocked the entirety of the conference hall with shadow from the outside. He forced us to partake in this ‘game’ after killing all but twenty-three of the Matoran at the conference – five of us were traitors selected by Xaeraz to kill the others.”

 

“And that is why there are only seven of you now,” Canis guessed.

 

“Yeah... we had to execute each of the traitors, and we got some wrong,” Voltex continued. “But there are more survivors – although none of them are nice. One of the traitors had designed this device that helped him come back to life, and he’s gone missing since then. The other two – Makuta Luroka and Sumiki – disappeared before we could execute them, right after the shadows came down. All three of them are probably still on BZ-Koro, but... where they are is anyone’s guess.”

 

“And they were in league with Xaeraz?” Canis asked.

 

“They were,” Voltex affirmed. “Kayn probably still is, but the other two... they broke the rules of his game in surviving like that, and Xaeraz doesn’t take things like that kindly, from what I’ve seen. I doubt they’re still working with him.”

 

“Good,” the De-Matoran sighed, his hand sliding off the holster as he crossed his arms again. “A rogue Makuta is still nothing good, but one allied to Xaeraz... that would be a nightmare.”

 

Irritation pricked at the back of Voltex’s mind, but he walled it up – he could be angry later, preferably while alone and where nobody could find him. For now he needed to be normal – or as normal as was still possible, at any rate.

 

“Well, I guess we’ll leave you to that, then,” Voltex said, standing straight and stretching. “Sorry about the, uh, bodies... but I think we should get back to Metru-Nui as soon as possible.”

 

“Bodies?” Canis asked, as Voltex began to stride briskly away.

 

“Yes,” Voltex said, tossing the words over his shoulder. “There are about two hundred of them, if I recall... some of them more gruesome than others.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” the BZ-Koro Officer asked, catching up with him as they drew near to the helicopters again.

 

Voltex waved Ehks away, shooting him a look warning him to back off as Canis pulled him to a stop ten feet away from their rides off of the island. “What do you want, Canis?”

 

“I want the truth,” Canis said. “What’s going on here?”

 

He was about to answer when the sound reached his ears. “What is that?”

 

“What’s what?”

 

“That ticking,” Voltex said irritably, looking around. “Don’t you hear it?”

 

The De-Matoran was silent for a second as he listened, before nodding. “Yes, I do. It’s getting louder.”

 

“Faster, too,” Voltex noted. “What is it?”

 

“Never mind that,” Canis snapped. “I want to know what’s going on.”

 

Voltex never had the chance to respond – because that was when, ten feet away, both helicopters exploded into twin balls of fire, and he and Canis were flying through the air, and the world went dark.

 

---[5 Years Ago]---

---[Xaeraz]---

 

The apartment complex towered above them, stretching so high into the sky that even the clouds were below the top. Not for the first time he wondered if what they had planned was actually possible, but he pushed those thoughts aside – if anyone knew that he was having doubts, the whole operation would collapse upon itself.

 

Ta-Metru was busy today, which had helped to provide his team some cover. After all, four Matoran bent under the weight of their bags was never an ordinary sight, especially not since the White Council had taken over – while it was done grudgingly, nobody could deny that the White Council had pushed advances in technology significantly the past few years.

 

It was a shame that most Matoran had no idea why they were truly pushing said advances.

 

“So how are we doing this?” the Ta-Matoran on his left asked.

 

“You tell me, Altros,” Xaeraz said distractedly, still taking in their surroundings. “You’re the one who used to work here – that’s why you were chosen for this mission.”

 

“I know,” Altros muttered, adjusting his pack slightly. “Well, assuming that the employee entrance is still located around back, that might be our best bet.”

 

“Will we be too inconspicuous going around the building?” Xaeraz asked.

 

Altros shook his head and Xaeraz nodded, turning to face the other two members of their team who were standing across the square. He pointed towards the alleyway leading to the back of the complex and both of the other Matoran complied, moving into position. Turning back to Altros, Xaeraz patted the Ta-Matoran on the shoulder and began walking around the building.

 

“These things are heavy,” Altros huffed from behind him.

 

“You’ll make it,” Xaeraz said idly, not really paying attention.

 

Their mission was one of the more... covert operations that the Resistance had pulled off in a while – not to mention one of the most important. Rumor had it that somewhere between two and four different members of the White Council lived in the apartment complex that they were about to break into; and whether those rumors were true or not was unimportant. If the Resistance left this complex standing and some of the White Council did live here, then they had missed an opportunity that might not come again.

 

He was not expecting all of the team to come back from this mission alive – the job was too big, the building too large, the operation too covert. Xaeraz knew that there were a million different things that could go wrong and end with one or more of them killed.

 

Of course, this was not shared with the rest of the team (who, he admitted, were probably not as tactically intelligent as he was). Although that was probably for the best ; the last thing he needed was some stupid Matoran being unable to cope with their incumbent doom.

 

He pushed the thoughts away as they rounded the corner and skirted around a garbage chute, meeting up with the other two members of their squad right next to a deprecate door that might have once been white. Despite its appearance, right next to the door was a keypad that looked as though it had been installed recently.

 

“That’s new,” Altros muttered, crouching in front of the keypad. “This wasn’t here when I left.”

 

“Delar, can you hack it?” Xaeraz asked, turning to the De-Matoran beside him.

 

“Maybe,” Delar replied. “It’s just a nine digit keypad; should be pretty simple. Let me take a crack at it.”

 

“How long will you need?”

 

“...tough to say. Sixty seconds, maybe.”

 

Pushing Altros away, Delar handed the Ta-Matoran his package and set to work on the keypad. Altros groaned and buckled under the weight of the bags before Xaeraz, rolling his eyes, stepped forward and grabbed Delar’s pack, shouldering it and turning to face the street, narrowing his gaze. Something was off, but he could not figure out what it was.

 

“Is your motion tracker activated, Sogam?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, but it’s kind of haywire right now,” the Po-Matoran said, putting a hand up to the pitch black helmet he wore. “It’s still picking up movement from the streets and the chutes. Once we’re inside it should be better. Why, is something up?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Xaeraz said slowly.

 

“Done!” Delar announced, stepping back as the door clicked and swung open, revealing a dimly lit room with two doors within.

 

Handing the De-Matoran his pack, Xaeraz stepped inside. As the others followed, he turned to face the door on the right. According to the floor plans that Burnmad had recovered the week before, this should work as a shortcut down to the basement generators.

 

Perfect, he thought.

 

“Let Burnmad know that we’re in,” he ordered.

 

Nodding, Sogam complied, speaking to Burnmad through his helmet radio. Once he was done he nodded, and Xaeraz opened the door, revealing total darkness. What little light there was revealed a narrow staircase, or at least the first few steps of one.

 

“Alright, let’s do this quickly,” he said. “As much as I’d like to bludgeon the White Council to death, this should hopefully take out a couple of them quickly, and prove to them that we are a threat.”

 

“I’m not sure I want the White Council to see me as a threat,” Altros muttered.

 

“Shut up and get down there,” Xaeraz ordered.

 

The Ta-Matoran flashed him a quick salute and began his descent, nearly tripping in the door way and staggering down the steps while trying not to drop his bag. The other three cringed until Altros called up from the bottom, and Xaeraz waved Delar and Sogam down as well.

 

“Sogam, leave your bag down there and return up here,” he said. “I want you on watch while the rest of us place the bombs.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

Xaeraz set his bag down on the floor and waited until the Po-Matoran’s helmeted head popped back into view before shouldering the pack again and turning to the stairwell.

 

“If someone is entering from outside, just duck into the stairwell and close the door,” he said. “If they spot you, toss them down the stairs and I’ll... ah... convince them not to say anything. If it looks like serious trouble is on its way... well, find some way of letting me know.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

With that, Xaeraz descended into the darkness, the steps creaking underneath him. After a minute he hit the bottom, where another door was shut – pushing it open, he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light of the generator room.

 

“Hey boss,” Altros greeted, from where he was crouched, going through one of the bags. “We’ve already started setting the charges.”

 

“How many generators are there?”

 

“We counted eight,” the Ta-Matoran said. “Half a bag of charges per generator, I think.”

 

“Congratulations on the basic math,” Xaeraz said drily, placing his bag next to the Ta-Matoran’s to rest for a moment. “Did you start with the close ones, or the farther ones?”

 

“Farther ones,” Altros said. “We figured you’d yell at us if we didn’t.”

 

“I wouldn’t yell,” Xaeraz said, exasperated. “I’d just smack you around for being stupid.”

 

Not waiting for a response from the Ta-Matoran, Xaeraz grabbed his pack and trekked over to the fifth and third and fourth generators, getting to work. The three Matoran toiled in silence for several minutes with only the occasional beep from a charge or the groaning of the generators to break the quiet.

 

Something still felt off.

 

After twenty minutes of work, Delar jogged over to him. “My charges are all set, sir.”

 

“Good,” Xaeraz said. “Here – I’ve got two more and then I’m done. What about Altros?”

 

“I think he’s almost done too.”

 

“Alright – find him and let’s get out of here,” Xaeraz said, grabbing the activation pad and pressing the button. “Once I let this go this building is gonna collapse. I’d rather be far away from here before that happens.”

 

Delar nodded and jogged away to search for Altros, as Xaeraz turned to leave. Before he could do so, he was stopped cold in his tracks.

 

“Xaeraz!”

 

The De-Matoran’s voice was panicky, and as Xaeraz sprinted over, he already knew what he would find – his suspicions proven true when he skidded to a halt beside Delar and found himself staring down at the body of Altros, slumped into one of the generators. A knife stuck out the Ta-Matoran’s back.

 

“Whatever you do,” Xaeraz said quietly, “don’t you dare panic.”

 

“This is really bad,” Delar whispered. “Do you think Sogam’s dead?”

 

“Either that or worse, he’s been taken prisoner,” Xaeraz said darkly. “Well... let’s go.”

 

“What?”

 

“We can’t just sit here, and we can’t take him with us. Dragging a dead Matoran through the streets is never a good idea. They obviously know we’re here – and if it’s at all possible, I’d rather avoid blowing myself up.”

 

Without another glance back, Xaeraz ran for the stairwell, with the reluctant Delar trailing behind him. He swung the door open and sprinted up the stairs two and a time, stumbling to a halt at the top in the empty room.

 

“W-where’s Sogam?” Delar asked, panting as he reached the top.

 

“I don’t know, but I have a few ideas,” Xaeraz muttered, “and none of them are good. Come on.”

 

He pulled open the door to the outside and they stepped into the sunlit back alley – where they both froze, as Xaeraz stepped right into a gun pointed at his chest.

 

“Sorry sir,” Sogam said, not sounding sorry at all. “The White Council pays me; you don’t.”

 

I’m about to pay you in bullets, Xaeraz thought.

 

“Why don’t you shoot?” he asked.

 

“I would, but the White Council wants one of you alive, and they would prefer it to be you,” Sogam said. “But just in case I need to... uh, make a point... I’ll keep you both alive.”

 

“Bad move.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

Fast as lightning, Xaeraz smacked the gun up to that it pointed at the sky, grabbing the Po-Matoran’s arm and twisting it until Sogam dropped the gun, before kicking him in the chest and causing the traitor to stumble backwards.

 

“I knew something was up about this operation,” Xaeraz said, clenching the activation device in his fist. “Delar, shoot him. He’ll only get in our way if we keep him alive.”

 

The De-Matoran seemed reluctant, but a glare from Xaeraz was enough to make Delar grab the gun and point it at the traitor.

 

“I’ve already alerted the White Council,” Sogam said. “Killing me is pointless.”

 

“Nothing that gives me satisfaction is pointless,” Xaeraz snapped.

 

BANG.

 

The Po-Matoran fell silent for the last time as Xaeraz turned away. “Keep the gun – we’re going to need it.”

 

BANG.

 

The second shot pierced the air like a hawk and Xaeraz flinched as something stung the fringe of his arm, before whirling around at the sound of Delar collapsing. A hole was visible in the back of the De-Matoran’s head.

 

Sniper, Xaeraz thought.

 

“You’re alone, Xaeraz,” a voice said.

 

Turning again, Xaeraz sneered at the newcomer. “Pure white armor and condescending... I’m disappointed, White Five.”

 

“Not as disappointed as I am,” White Five said with a chuckle. “I expected a greater fight from you. I just wish dear Sogam over there could have given us the names of your fellow Resistance leaders... but then, I’m sure you can, too.”

 

“I’ll bring the building down on top of us,” Xaeraz threatened.

 

“I invite you to do so,” White Five said, shrugging. “I’m sure it will injure us both.”

 

“Or kill us.”

 

“Perhaps,” White Five acknowledged. “It is either that or you come with me quietly. Which would you prefer, Xaeraz?”

 

As if there was really a choice.

 

The last thing he remembered before the world went dark was activating the charges, and the staff in White Five’s hands swinging towards his head faster than a Turaga should be able to move.

To Be Continued.

Edited by Voltex Oblige
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CHAPTER TWO

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

“I think he’s waking up.”

 

“Well, why don’t you just yell it louder? I’m sure some of the Matoran down the hall didn’t hear you.”

 

“Was that for real?”

 

“No, it wasn’t.”

 

Voltex sighed, trying to block the voices out – to no avail, unfortunately. Sighing, he blinked his eyes opened and blearily sat up, ignoring the pain that lanced through him. “Where am I?”

 

“BZ-Koro General Hospital,” the first voice said. “I think you’re lucky to be alive.”

 

“I don’t feel very lucky,” Voltex muttered. “Who are you?”

 

“I’m Xonar,” said the second voice, as a black and purple Ba-Matoran (jealously twinged somewhere in his chest) stepped into view. “The stupid one behind me is called ‘Phantom Terror’, although we call him PT for short.”

 

“I’m not stupid,” PT protested, also moving into view. He was clad in dark blue and gold armor – a Ce-Matoran.

 

Remembering how the last Ce-Matoran that he had encountered had ended up, Voltex shuddered, deciding to move past the introductions. “You know who I am, obviously – where is everyone else?”

 

“Either in recovery or meeting in the lobby,” Xonar told him. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

“Of course I do,” Voltex snapped. “My ride off this stupid island exploded.”

 

“BZ-Koro isn’t that bad,” PT protested. “I think it’s quite nice!”

 

“I’m not you,” Voltex growled, moving to get off the bed.

 

“Whoa, whoa, hold on there, buddy,” Xonar said frantically, pushing him back. “Don’t start moving too quickly! Your friends told us you’d already been out for awhile before the explosion and now you’ve been out for twelve hours-”

 

Twelve hours?!” Voltex screeched, smacking the other Ba-Matoran’s hands away, “That’s half a day!”

 

“Yeah, it is,” Xonar agreed, “which means you’re probably too weak to stand right now.”

 

“I defy ‘probably’,” Voltex said.

 

“Alright,” Xonar said, shrugging. “Then you are definitely too weak to stand right now.”

 

“Are you a medical professional?” Voltex snapped.

 

“No,” Xonar conceded, “but Taka Nuvia is. Well, either that or she’s really good at faking professional documents.”

 

“Whatever,” Voltex muttered, flopping back onto the bed with a defeated sigh.

 

“That reminds me,” PT said brightly, turning to the filing cabinet in the corner and rifling through it. “Somebody came by earlier with a parcel for you.”

 

Suspicion pricked at his mind. Voltex mentally swatted it away. “Who?”

 

“Don’t know,” PT said, shrugging and handing him the package. “He didn’t give a name. He looked weird, though.”

 

“Yeah,” Xonar agreed. “Almost like he’d been put together with scraps from the junkyard....”

 

Oh, no... Voltex thought, staring at the package in his hands. Is this a bomb? Is it poison? Maybe it’s a poisonous bomb. Or maybe it’ll throw a knife in between my eyes. Is the paper razor sharp?

 

“Are you going to open it?” Xonar asked. “He said to tell you that it’s safe and that he likes you too much to... uh... ‘mess with you’.”

 

“Well isn’t that a relief,” Voltex muttered, dripping with sarcasm, turning the package over with shaking hands. “Well... here goes nothing.”

 

He ripped it open, tossing the spare piece of paper aside as he reached inside and grabbed the letter, which was wrapped around something that felt suspiciously familiar.

 

“...could you give me a minute? Alone?” he asked. “This... uh... this might be private.”

 

“Of course,” Xonar said, grabbing PT and dragging him to the door. “Let us know when you’re ready again.”

 

Voltex waited until the door had clicked shut behind the two Matoran before returning his attention to the paper in his hands, unfolding it and flinching as a gun fell onto his lap. Frowning, he checked the chamber – two bullets were inside.

 

What is going on here? He wondered.

 

He grabbed the letter and glanced it over – it was more of a note, with only four words:

 

Use it wisely. – Xaeraz

 

“Use it wisely?” he whispered. “What are you planning, Xaeraz?”

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door, followed by the sound of Xonar’s voice: “Hey Voltex, you ready yet?”

 

“Uh, gimme a minute!” he called back, forcing himself off of the bed and staggering against the wall and collapsing to the floor with a groan as his legs gave out.

 

“What was that?” Xonar asked from the other side of the door.

 

“Nothing! Just knocked over a lamp!”

 

“...there aren’t any lamps in there, though.”

 

He needed more time. Grunting with effort, Voltex heaved himself back up and he lunged to the door, his fingers fumbling for a moment before he managed to twist the lock into place with a click. As if reading his mind a few seconds too late, Xonar began to jiggle the handle on the other side, attempting to push the door open.

 

“Voltex, open the door!”

 

He needed to get out of here. The confusion from recently awakening was wearing off and he could feel his cloudy mind becoming more crisp by the second – and as his mind returned itself to working order, he could feel the rage beginning to pummel him from the inside out again.

 

I’m going mad, he thought, clawing his way over to the bed and leaning on it, panting.

 

“Voltex, open the door right now!”

 

“Just gimme... a minute...” he yelled back.

 

I’ll blast my way out, he decided.

 

“Voltex, we will blast down this door!” Xonar threatened.

 

Ignoring the other Ba-Matoran, Voltex grabbed his cloak and threw it on, strapping the gun to his waist and pointing his palm at the wall opposite the door. He willed it to fire and a laser shot out of the Repulsor Arm, blasting a hole in the wall. The force of the blast sent him stumbling back against the bed as Xonar began hammering on the door.

 

“Voltex, you need bed rest!” Xonar screamed. “Whatever you’re doing in there, stop it!”

 

“Shut up,” Voltex muttered, fighting the urge to turn around and blast a hole in Xonar’s Kanohi. “I don’t need to listen to you.”

 

Stepping carefully through the hole he had created and into the empty office on the other side, he leaned against the wall briefly, until the wave of dizziness that had hit him went away. Glancing around, he spotted the door, which thankfully did not join the same hallway as his room – pulling it open, he stumbled into the hall and narrowed his eyes at the harsh white lights, lurching forwards.

 

Now to find Ehks... he thought. The two of us need to have a little... ‘chat’....

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Ehks]---

 

The last thing Ehks could remember was a rotor blade from one of the helicopters flying through the air and stabbing him in the stomach before everything had gone dark in a world of pain. Truthfully, he had not expected to wake up, so when he finally did, he was surprised.

 

That did not stop it from hurting like Karzahni, though.

 

“Holy Muaka,” he groaned, slowly sitting up and grimacing as pain lanced up his side.

 

“Whoa there buddy, slow down,” a voice said. “You, uh, do you remember what happened?”

 

“I think I got stabbed,” Ehks muttered, placing a hand over his side gently and deciding that talking hurt a lot.

 

“Yeah... um... a rotor blade kind of... almost killed you,” the voice, which he now recognized as Locke’s, continued. “So uh, luckily the extraction team had these things on hand, so you’re still alive, but... yeah. You should be healed up fine in a couple hours. They work pretty fast.”

 

“Where... where am I?”

 

“BZ-Koro General Hospital,” the voice of Pulse cut in. “It’s on the outskirts of the city. You almost died, but you didn’t, so be sure to thank Taka Nuvia afterwards.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She had these weird healing sphere things,” Locke said. “Something about them being an experimental new healing technology designed to speed the recovery of participants in Bionifight and Day Run? Anyway, the extraction team brought them and she figured out how to activate them.”

 

“You can open your eyes, you know,” Pulse said.

 

Ehks sighed and complied, slowly opening his eyes and blinking in the harsh light. Whoever had decorated the room had rather poor taste – everything was white. He hated white. The color was so ugly and pure – though he doubted anyone else in the room would use that description of it.

 

Speaking of those in the room.... “Would you mind introducing me to the strangers that I don’t know?” he asked.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Pulse said, stepping back to reveal two blue Matoran seated in chairs against the wall – the one on the left lighter and the one on the right a shade of navy with yellow highlights. “On your left is Baltarc – his home was apparently destroyed during an attack from some terrorist group recently, so he’s been lending his medical knowledge to the hospital. On the right is Shockwave – uh, yeah, he hasn’t shared much.”

 

“There was no need,” Shockwave said quietly, standing and striding over to where Ehks lay. “Baltarc and I were placed in charge of you – Pulse and Locke were merely here to help your awakening feel more comfortable. It is our understanding that you’ve been through a tough time.”

 

“You could say that,” Ehks said.

 

“Well, don’t worry,” Shockwave told him. “I’m not much for talking, so I’ll allow Baltarc to handle that while I go sort out the paperwork.”

 

The Vo-Matoran left without another word. Ehks glanced over to Pulse, who shrugged, and then to Baltarc, who sighed and stood.

 

“Shockwave is the quiet type,” the Ga-Matoran explained. “Listen; you should be fine to leave in a couple hours or so – Taka Nuvia is busy with some other Matoran right now, but once she’s back we’ll activate another healing sphere on you and it should fix you good as new.”

 

I wish I’d had these things before, Ehks thought, before pushing the memories away.

 

“Who else was injured?” he asked.

 

“You and Voltex were the worst,” Pulse said with a sigh, continuing, “which isn’t going to help his moodiness at all. Canis took a bit of beating, but he was actually mostly shielded by Tex... other than that, as far as I’m aware TBK, Lhikevikk, Burnmad and RG all took a hit, but I think all four of them are back on their feet already.”

 

“So Voltex and I were the only ones to suffer serious injuries?” Ehks asked.

 

“Kind of,” Baltarc admitted.

 

“That’s stupid. Why can’t someone else get injured for a change?”

 

“Get used to it,” Baltarc said grimly. “BZ-Koro isn’t exactly the... ah... friendliest place to be right now. I don’t know who the White Council was trying to kid by hosting a conference here, but Project Mayhem has been rendering this place inhabitable bit by bit.”

 

“What is Project Mayhem?”

 

“They’d be most easily described as a terrorist group, but rumor has it that their motives are a little more pure,” Baltarc said. “Nobody is sure how many Matoran are a part of it, nor does anyone outside of the group have a clear idea of their motives. The only things the public knows for sure are that the BZ-Koro Police Force has managed to capture a couple confirmed members, but that’s it.”

 

“Who leads them?”

 

“Nobody knows,” Baltarc said, before lowering his voice to a whisper and leaning in so that the other three had to fight to hear him. “But rumors say that it’s led by a Le-Matoran called T-”

 

He broke off as the door burst open to reveal Shockwave, now with the Av-Matoran Taka Nuvia in tow. Ehks narrowed his gaze as he spied the glowing blue spheres bundled in the messenger bag that Taka Nuvia held.

 

“Are those the healing spheres?” he asked.

 

“They are,” she said, pulling one out and activating it, causing it to glow a soft pink. “This is probably going to feel like I’m cutting into you with a knife that’s on fire.”

 

Ehks grimaced. “Could we skip it?”

 

“Sure,” Taka Nuvia said, shrugging. “But only if you want to be bedridden for several weeks.”

 

“...I’ll do the sphere.”

 

He had barely finished speaking before Taka Nuvia flashed forwards, slamming the healing sphere right into his stomach, where it phased through the bandages and split apart throughout the wound. Clenching his fists, Ehks groaned from the pain, battling the urge to swipe Taka Nuvia’s hand away.

 

“Someone hold him down before he hits me,” Taka Nuvia ordered.

 

Ehks swiped at Pulse, who dodged the punch and then grabbed his wrist, holding it down. On the other side, Shockwave did the same to his other arm.

 

He was on fire – that was the only explanation. Every muscle interwoven within him was searing, and a thousand knives were digging into his armor. His head felt like it was splitting open, and he could feel his Kanohi shaking as if about to explode. He heard someone cry out, and barely registered as both of his legs were restrained.

 

“How much longer?” someone asked.

 

Ehks shook his head in a daze and missed the answer. The world was turning red and black. Was this what dying felt like?

 

This hurt more than being shot.

 

“How’re you doing?” someone – Baltarc? – asked.

 

“Aaaauuugh....”

 

That was when the world blinked out.

 

---[Present Day]---

---[burnmad]---

 

Burnmad was beginning to regret coming to BZ-Koro. It had been evident from the moment they touched down that something was not right, even when forgetting about the fact that they were there to extract the survivors of a terrorist strike.

 

He was shaken from his thoughts as the door swung open, revealing Canis and two other Matoran. One he recognized immediately, but the other was unknown to him. The three Matoran sat down at the other four chairs around the plain brown table. Burnmad was thankful that Automaton stood behind him.

 

“This is Hero, the Mayor of BZ-Koro,” Canis said, pointing to the Ta-Matoran on his right before gesturing to the Ko-Matoran on his left, “and this is Officer Kante, a member of my squadron.”

 

“What’s with the helmet?” Burnmad asked, knowing it was the right question to ask.

 

Even if I already know what it is because I’ve used one before when I was –

 

“It’s a mandatory piece of equipment,” Canis explained, interrupting his thoughts. “All officers must wear one. They contain radios, motion trackers, heat seekers, x-ray vision, night vision... they are quite possibly the most valuable piece of equipment that we can have out on the field.”

 

Burnmad nodded along as though the subject was new and interesting before turning to the other Ta-Matoran in the room. “Good day to you, sir. I’m Burnmad.”

 

“And you already know who I am,” Hero said. “I really hope you aren’t going to ask me why I’m not a Turaga, because quite frankly, I’m sick of answering that question.”

 

“Nah,” Burnmad said, shrugging. “Turaga, Matoran, Toa... anybody can be the leader of a city. Turaga are just the... stereotypical image, that’s all.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you think that,” Hero said, sighing. “Unfortunately, not everyone does, and recent events have been... well... difficult, to say the least.”

 

“Why?”

 

“For one, there is Project Mayhem,” Hero said. “They have been ‘upping the ante’, so to speak, with their attacks in recent months. Our banks have been all but destroyed, and I’m afraid all transportation off of BZ-Koro is nothing more than ashes.”

 

“You think Project Mayhem destroyed my extraction helicopters,” Burnmad guessed.

 

“We do,” Canis said, nodding. “We have a couple members in captivity but they’re still refusing to talk.”

 

“So you have nothing that you can use to leave this island?” Burnmad asked.

 

“I’m afraid not,” Hero said. “Which brings me to issue number two: we are on the verge of war with the White Council. If Project Mayhem had not interfered like this, we would be battling them for full independence from Metru-Nui already.”

 

“Understand that we are telling you this only because you appear to be the leader of this group of Matoran,” Canis warned. “If the public knew this information, there would be riots on the streets.”

 

“I understand,” Burnmad said, standing. “Although I don’t think the survivors of that conference would recognize anyone except one of their own as a leader. I just got the extraction team.”

 

“I was curious about that,” Hero said. “How did you know to bring a team in the first place? Our records show you dropping off the grid quite a while ago.”

 

Well... Burnmad thought, that certainly didn’t take long.

 

“I’ve just been busy,” he shrugged. “Voltex and I have kept in touch over the years, and I did the same with Automaton. Voltex thought he might need some help at the conference, and he turned out to be right.”

 

“I see,” Hero said, the tone of his voice indicating that the conversation was far from over. “Well, I had nothing else to talk to you about, so if there was anything you were needing to do....”

 

“I should probably meet with my team and the survivors,” Burnmad said, standing to his feet and preparing to leave. “It was nice meeting you, sir.”

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Ehks]---

 

“...wake up Ehks, come on....”

 

“I dunwanna....”

 

“Wake up....”

 

“Lemmego....”

 

Everything ached, as if an airship had slammed into him mid-flight. With a groan, he blinked his eyes open on the harsh white lights of the ceiling. Orange and white clad hands gripped his shoulders, helping him into a sitting position.

 

“How’re you feeling?” Pulse asked.

 

“Like I’ve been run over by an airship,” Ehks admitted.

 

“Is that normal?” Baltarc asked, turning to Taka Nuvia.

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “They’re a prototype... we’re not technically supposed to be using them.”

 

“What happened?” Ehks asked.

 

“We activated a healing sphere on you,” Taka Nuvia said. “You’re all healed up, but the process was painful. You passed out.”

 

“Lovely. How long?”

 

“Fifteen minutes,” she answered. “The sphere finished its work soon after you were gone, so we’ve just been trying to wake you up.”

 

“No more hole in my body?”

 

“There’s a scar,” she warned, “but otherwise, you’re good to go.”

 

“Wicked.”

 

He remembered the last time that he had been this injured – no, no, stay away from that. Searching for something to distract his thoughts, he had just opened his mouth to begin rambling when the door burst open again, providing him with the perfect distraction.

 

And also the last Matoran I wanted to see right now, he admitted to himself.

 

“Hey Voltex,” Pulse said, turning to face the newcomer, his eyes narrowing. “You look like you’ve run a marathon.”

 

“You shouldn’t even be running around!” Taka Nuvia exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

 

“Rules are for wimps...” Voltex gasped, heaving for breath. “I came to speak to Ehks.”

 

The Ba-Matoran stumbled, and would have crumpled to the floor if Baltarc had not caught him. “Easy there pal, you took more than a couple beatings,” the Ga-Matoran said.

 

“I need to speak with Ehks,” Voltex insisted, straightening himself. “Alone.”

 

“Do we really have to?” Ehks asked.

 

The glare he received was answer enough.

 

Well, there goes the rest of my life, he thought. Maybe I can survive the jump out the window.

 

---[1.5 Years Ago]---

---[Voltex]---


“Still looking at those scraps of paper?”


The Ba-Matoran glanced up from the numerous paper cuttings strewn across the benches of the locker room, all of them listing various details about his opponent’s fighting style and weapon preferences... among other details. Grimacing, he waved to the newcomer, offering to let him in, and his companion accepted it.


“Voltex, you’re worrying about nothing,” the newcomer (a Matoran of Lightning) said. “Nothing is going to go wrong in this fight; you’ve been training for this for months. Heck, you’ve beaten him in this fight before.”


“You don’t know that for sure, Blade.” Voltex said absently, still inspecting the scraps of various papers. “I didn’t do all this once, with Voxumo... and that caused me to miss out on the championship round.”


“You were a rookie back then, though. You’re top of the line now – the best fighter in the league,” Blade said.


“Shadowhawk is top-notch right now as well, and he’s still finding ways to blow through any weaknesses in my style,” Voltex said, pointing towards a clip detailing a duel between himself and Shadowhawk that had taken place three weeks prior.


Blade grimaced before changing the subject. “Have you accepted that offer to join the up and coming news network as a writer?”


“Of course not,” Voltex said, snorting in derision before his eyes fell on a picture of Shadowhawk and his laughter turned nervous.


“But you’re a writer!” Blade exclaimed. “You’d be perfect! Didn’t they want you to write a historical account of Metru-Nui or something?”


“You’re a pretty good writer yourself,” Voltex noted, “but you wouldn’t accept it either.”


Blade mumbled something about not being a so-called retired writer under his breath as another Matoran clad in red armor stepped into the locker room and stopped beside them. Flinching at the unexpected arrival, Voltex knocked several of the papers out of sight by accident. The red Matoran immediately grabbed the nearest bunch of clippings, dumping them all unceremoniously into the garbage by the door. Voltex and Blade said nothing, as the red Matoran spoke.


“Are you ready?”


“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Voltex muttered, as the red Matoran handed him a sealed envelope.


“What is that?” Blade asked.


“Must be an invitation of some sort,” Voltex said, “or I’m the target of an assassination.”


“...should you just leave it, save it for after the fight?” Blade asked, before realizing that Voltex was already opening it. “Voltex! What if it’s to distract you from the fight?!”


“Oops,” the Ba-Matoran said. “Well, it is an invitation, actually. Apparently I’ve been summoned by the White Council to a private discussion once the fight is over. At least I’ll avoid the press afterwards.”


Voltex sighed and flopped onto the bench, tossing his envelope and invitation back to the red Matoran. His gaze met Blade’s and Voltex sighed again. “Should I go?”


“It’s dangerous to refuse the wishes of the Turaga,” Blade said. “They aren’t the most benevolent of rulers.”


“Then it’s settled,” Voltex said, standing and turning to the red Matoran. “Are the fans ready for me?”


“They’re always ready.”


“Good,” Voltex said. “Let’s go – I’ve got a fight to win.”


The three Matoran stood to their feet. Voltex shook hands with Blade before they exited the locker room and went their separate ways – Blade heading back for the path to the stands, and Voltex being escorted towards the entrance into the arena. Right before the doors the red Matoran stuck out his arm, blocking Voltex from proceeding and offering a small cup to him.


“What is this?” Voltex asked, accepting it.


“Something for your nerves,” the Matoran said. “I know this isn’t the easiest of fights at the best of times... and with all the pressure and your rivalry... we figured you could both use a bit of help.”


“He has it too?”


“Shadowhawk does have emotions too,” the red Matoran said. “Drink up – you should feel the effects soon.”


Accepting the cup, Voltex swung his head back and gulped down the fluid, which burned as it went down his throat. Coughing, he handed the now steaming cup back to the red Matoran, who spared him a small nod before hurrying off. Voltex watched the retreating form for several seconds before one of the guards at the door coughed, and the Ba-Matoran turned back to the doors.


Here goes nothing, he thought. Just one more victory and I can make history.


The stone doors swung open before him without a sound, and he blinked in the harsh sunlight as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Once they had, he stepped onto the arena, his limbs feeling like jelly. Gripping the hilt of his sword and pulling his shield off of his back; it clicked into place on his left arm.


“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!” the voice of Burnmad boomed, easily heard everywhere in the arena. “This is the final battle of the twenty-third Bionifight tournament – and this year our combatants are, once more, fan favorites Voltex and Shadowhawk!”


As he met the Shadow Matoran in the center, Voltex could hear the crowd roaring its approval. He tightened his grip on his sword, pulling it out of his sheathe and praying that Shadowhawk had not noticed his trembling. He thought he noticed a smirk on Shadowhawk’s face, but he was distracted by Burnmad as the Ta-Matoran host floated down to hover on a platform several feet in the air above them.


“Are you both ready?” Burnmad asked.


“I am,” Shadowhawk said quietly. “What about you, Voltex?”


His mouth felt dry, and his Kanohi was itching. Not trusting himself to speak, Voltex just nodded, noticing a look of concern flash across Burnmad’s face before it vanished just as quickly. Fighting back a cough, Voltex stepped back into a fighting stance.


I’ve never felt like this before a fight, he thought. What the heck is going on? Did I take something?


He tried to think back, but his mind seemed determined to fight him – recall was proving exceptionally difficult, and his current location was not helping matters.


“Three...” Burnmad started.


Voltex shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.


“Two...”


He wavered as he opened his eyes again, fighting a wave of dizziness. Was it too late to call the match? Was it too late to re-schedule?


“One...”


Shadowhawk was definitely smirking. Something was wrong, but Voltex’s brain had gone fuzzy, and he could barely even think.


“FIGHT!”


The Ba-Matoran clumsily ducked away from Shadowhawk’s halberd, smacking it away with his shield and then swinging his sword. The shadow Matoran easily knocked his sword away, and Voltex felt it slip away from his fingers, although he did not hear it hit the ground. Shadowhawk’s mouth seemed to move, but all Voltex could hear was the rushing of the wind; he felt lethargic and dizzy, and when the halberd pierced his stomach, he felt nothing as darkness claimed him.

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CHAPTER THREE

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

He was ready to pass out as he staggered further into the room, coming to a halt at the end of the bed and leaning against it, closing his eyes in the hopes that the world would stop spinning around him. Despite his objections, he knew that Xonar had been correct – he should not be up and about right now. But at the same time... he did not know if this opportunity would arise again.

 

“Get out,” he ordered.

 

Opening his eyes, he was relieved to find the world standing still as it was supposed to, and he glared at the Matoran in the room, satisfied to see a flicker of fear in some of their eyes. He watched as Locke pushed Pulse out of the room. A Vo-Matoran followed them, seeming unimpressed (breakhimbreakhimbreakhim) as he left the room. Taka Nuvia stepped closer and he inched away.

 

“Back off.”

 

“You shouldn’t be up right now,” she repeated, eyes narrowing. “I can tell you’re about to pass out, Voltex.”

 

“Worry about that when I’ve passed out, then.”

 

“Voltex...” the Ga-Matoran beside him trailed off. “We have your best interests in mind.”

 

Breakthembreakthembreakthembreakthembreakthem

 

Voltex sighed, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “I need five minutes. That’s all I need. Just five minutes.”

 

“You go ahead,” the Ga-Matoran said to Taka Nuvia. “I’ll wait here.”

 

“Are you sure, Baltarc?”

 

“I don’t want either of you in here,” Voltex snapped.

 

“Well I don’t want you in here,” Ehks muttered from the bed, “but hey, I’m not complaining.”

 

“Fine,” Voltex muttered.

 

The Ga-Matoran – Baltarc, according to the others – waved Taka Nuvia away and the Av-Matoran complied, exiting the room and closing the door behind her. Baltarc retreated to the chair in the corner as Voltex walked around the bed and over to the window, observing what appeared to be an office building across the way.

 

“Who are you?” he asked after a moment of silence, turning to face the Matoran on the bed. “I still don’t know what you did to me, and I doubt I’ll ever understand, but I do know that what you did could only be done by a Matoran of Light.”

 

“Are you sure you want to know?” Ehks asked. “My past... it’s... well, it’s not the most pleasant of things.”

 

“I want to know.”

 

“Then I’ll start by asking you a question,” Ehks said, sighing. “How many members of the White Council are there?”

 

“Twelve,” Voltex said. “Everyone knows that.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Ehks said. “There are thirteen... or rather, there were.”

 

“What happened to the thirteenth?”

 

“White Thirteen was an Av-Matoran like the others,” Ehks said, shrugging. “He took over Metru-Nui with the others and was, for all intents and purposes, one of them – but he became disillusioned.”

 

“How?” Voltex asked, suspicion pricking the back of his mind.

 

“I don’t know how,” Ehks said, evading the question. “But I ran into him awhile ago and I... uh, well... I tortured him. We used to be best friends, until he was a member of the White Council... and I found him just sitting there; so I tortured him. I... I experimented on him and he... I took whatever powers he had, so to speak.”

 

Liarliarliarliar

 

“You’re lying. You would never torture someone like that.”

 

“Oh really? All you know of me is what you saw at the conference,” Ehks snapped. “I played a joke on you by playing dead.”

 

Voltex smacked away the hand that Baltarc tried to rest on his shoulder, ignoring the Ga-Matoran as the rage that had been building up inside of him began to boil over, his exhausted mind and body no longer able to resist as he lurched towards Ehks.

 

Killhimnowkillhimnowkillhimnowkillhimnow

 

BANG!

 

The crack echoed through the air and into the room as the window shattered and Voltex stumbled forwards as something impacted his left shoulder, collapsing face-first onto the bed before pushing himself back up, cursing in pain.

 

“Voltex, get down!” Baltarc yelled.

 

He ignored the Ga-Matoran. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he slowly lowered his gaze to his shoulder, where a brand new hole glistened crimson with blood.  He touched his hand to it, staring, fascinated at the ruby droplets upon his fingers.

 

Clarity. The red haze of fury upon his mind lessened. He could think again.

 

I was shot, he realized.

 

He turned towards the window to see where the shot had come from – just in time for the second shot to drill right into his left shoulder as well, this time from the side. Someone – maybe him – screamed. His vision went dark as he collapsed, staring out the window across the way, where a white, helmeted figure stood just inside an open window – and then they were gone.

 

Clarity.

 

He felt normal for the first time since Makuta Luroka had blasted him with that cursed shadow attack as he sank to his knees, blood pouring from the two wounds. Compared to the fuzz of anger that had plagued him before, he now felt as though he was operating faster than the universe could keep up. He felt the dull thud as he collapsed onto his side, and was vaguely aware of Baltarc crouched over him, yelling at someone – or something – that he could not see as darkness took over.

 

Everything was black.

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Xaeraz]---

 

Nocking another arrow onto his bow, Xaeraz raised the weapon and pulled the bowstring back before letting the arrow fly. It zipped across the room and sank into the middle of the target and he sighed in disappointment, shaking his head.

 

“Not improving?” a gray armored Av-Matoran asked, entering the room.

 

“Unfortunately not,” Xaeraz replied. “I am able to hit the body just fine, but the arms, legs and neck are proving to be a consistent issue.”

 

He reached into the quiver strapped to his back and pulled out his final arrow, nocking it and aiming briefly before letting it fly. It sank into the chest of the target with a thunk. With a frustrated huff, the Fe-Matoran walked over to the dead Matoran’s corpse that he was using as a target and began absentmindedly retrieving his arrows, observing the blood that oozed out of the wounds.

 

“You wanted to speak with us?” the Av-Matoran asked from behind.

 

“Indeed I did,” Xaeraz said, pulling out his final arrow and replacing them in his quiver before returning to the Av-Matoran and hanging his bow and quiver on hooks on the wall. “Elittra managed to intercept a message sent from the White Council to one of their operatives on the island. It is troublesome.”

 

“Have you, uh... done your thing?” the Av-Matoran asked.

 

The Fe-Matoran paused in the doorway and gestured towards the corpse on the wall. “Of course I have – I always make sure to do so before something important.”

 

“Just checking,” the Av-Matoran said. “Never can be too careful, you know?”

 

“MT, I think you’re looking for trouble.”

 

At that, the Av-Matoran fell silent. Xaeraz grabbed a ratty brown cloak, flung it on, and they continued on their way. Xaeraz could make out the music that was pumping in the main room of their basement base of operations, despite the thick concrete walls. Stopping beside a door with scratched up green paint, he twisted the door knob and pushed the door open, not surprised to see a Huna-wearing Le-Matoran already seated in one of the three armchairs inside.

 

“Do you understand what this meeting is for?” Xaeraz asked, taking the seat farthest from – and facing – the door.

 

“I have my suspicions,” the Le-Matoran answered.

 

“Elittra intercepted a transmission from the White Council earlier today,” Xaeraz explained, reaching into the only pocket remaining on his cloak and pulling out a folded up piece of paper, tossing it onto the small wooden bench sitting in the center of the chairs. “It is a list of names for the so-called ‘players’ of a game that is inspired by my actions at the conference a few days ago. Five of these Matoran are a Mafia hit group hired by the White Council to take out the rest; one is that pyromaniac that has been causing trouble for both us and the BZ-Koro Police Force; and one is a so-called ‘Cryo’.”

 

“And all of them are working for the White Council?” MT asked.

 

“So it would seem,” Xaeraz said.

 

“Doesn’t seem like the odds are in favor of the others at all,” MT said. “I guess this shouldn’t be surprising though, considering what you said about the White Council.”

 

“I have taken certain matters into my own hands,” Xaeraz said. “I have inserted my own role into this game – an ‘Armed Matoran’ with the ability to kill two of the other players.”

 

“How can you be sure that they’ll choose the right targets, though?” MT asked.

 

“Voltex is smart,” Xaeraz said. “Or at least, he does a good job of appearing to be so. Of course, they also have a talented medic on their side – and as the mayor of this town, Hero’s influence should prove... well, influential. But alas, the outcome is clear – if the White Council wants these Matoran dead, then we want them alive. The only question is... who is most likely to join Project Mayhem willingly?”

 

“Not Hero or Canis,” the Le-Matoran said, glancing down the list and frowning. “Wait – I’m on here, and neither of you are.”

 

“They do not know that I am still on this island,” Xaeraz dismissed. “And we faked the death of MT after the bank heist to provide us with a strategic advantage. Unfortunately, that list does seem to indicate that someone has not only discovered your identity, but found enough proof to give it concretely to the White Council. On the other hand, they could simply be acting paranoid regarding the rumors.”

 

“Still... I do not like what this list implies,” the Le-Matoran said.

 

“Could we contact Burnmad?” MT asked.

 

“Unlikely,” Xaeraz said. “He no longer trusts me... which, I suppose, considering several of my actions, is an apt conclusion. I, likewise, no longer trust him. I do believe that Voltex will be a useful ally for our cause, although he may take some convincing.”

 

“TBK has expressed dislike for the White Council in the past,” the Le-Matoran said. “Automaton and Taka Nuvia both joined that ‘Anti-White Council’ conspiracy group... outside of that, there are quite a few White Council sympathizers in this group. Have you seen Kayn since the conference?”

 

“I have not,” Xaeraz said, frowning. “He broke no rules, so I would hope that he understands it is safe for him to return before it is too late. I hunt only Sumiki and Luroka.”

 

“Any updates on either of them?” MT asked.

 

“I believe I may have tracked one of them down,” Xaeraz said. “If I am correct, then they will be very sorry.”

 

“Be careful,” the Le-Matoran warned. “That’s a Makuta you’re hunting, Xaeraz.”

 

“Don’t you worry, Tyler...” Xaeraz said, cracking his knuckles. “I am more than prepared to take care of our friend from the brotherhood. He will walk right into my trap knowing that it is a trap, because he does not believe that a Matoran could possibly end him... and that is precisely what I will do.”

 

“Let’s focus on the present that is occurring, rather than a possibly hypothetical future,” Tyler said, looking over the list again. “I suppose you want me to socialize with them.”

 

“That might be useful, as dangerous as it is,” Xaeraz admitted. “Drop some hints to Voltex, get him interested.”

 

“Valendale is on the list.”

 

“Yes, that is problematic,” Xaeraz said with a sigh. “Again, get Voltex interested in Project Mayhem – he’ll naturally turn to Canis, with the Detective being in charge of the investigation on us. Hopefully, Canis will direct him to Valendale.”

 

“Valendale won’t talk, though,” MT said, frowning. “Not unless we tell him to.”

 

“I’ll pay him a visit,” Xaeraz said.

 

“I don’t like the idea of going into public,” Tyler said, putting the list down. “Part of our success so far has been keeping my identity in the shadows, shrouded by uncertainty. Send MT out to be our public face and we can prioritize my security.”

 

“Gee, thanks,” MT muttered. “Sure, I’d gladly die for you!”

 

“You would gladly die for Project Mayhem,” Xaeraz corrected, glancing over to Tyler. “Very well – you do have a point. MT, you shall be our representative in this group, and we shall do our best to keep Tyler in the game for as long as possible... preferably until the end.”

 

“Is there anything else?” Tyler asked, standing to his feet. “I have places to be, and my timetable to be at those places has just grown smaller.”

 

“No, I believe that is all,” Xaeraz sighed, rubbing his head. “You’re both free... MT, if you would please bring me one of our prisoners.”

 

“Same place as usual?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The gray armored Av-Matoran was out the door in a flash, and Xaeraz fought off the frustration at his haste. He spared Tyler a short wave, and the Le-Matoran nodded before exiting as well. The Fe-Matoran remained seated for a moment, rubbing at his head and sighing again before rising, stretching as he walked out the door, turning in the direction of the room. As he walked through the halls his frown grew deeper, and he began to hiss as he neared his location.

 

Stay away, stay away, stay away, stay away... he repeated the mantra in his head, growling as it failed (like it always did).

 

There was only one thing that could hold them off – and even then, it was never for very long.

 

---[Present Day]---

---[burnmad]---

 

They were gathered in a dingy, dimly lit room inside of a decrepit abandoned building on the outskirts of BZ-Koro. Each Matoran was seated on various objects in what was roughly a circle. While the environment was less than desirable, Burnmad was hoping that it would give them the secrecy that a meeting such as this required.

 

That said....

 

“There are Matoran here that I don’t know,” Burnmad whispered furiously to Automaton, who was seated right next to him. He gestured over to Locke, who had just accepted a drink from a Ce-Matoran that reminded him of Scanty. “I mean, who the heck is that?”

 

“I couldn’t help it,” Automaton replied. “They overheard about the meeting! What was I supposed to do? ‘Hey, I don’t trust you not to kill me, so I’m going to ask you to wait behind while we make plans about who to kill!’ Yeah, that sounds like it’d go over real well.”

 

“There’s this thing called tact, Automaton,” Burnmad muttered. “Y’know, for someone who deals in information, I would have thought you’d be better at it.”

 

“We can’t all be perfect.”

 

“Whatever,” Burnmad said, before turning and addressing the group as a whole. “Alright, we don’t have all night and I don’t know who you all are. Let’s go around clockwise and share our names quickly before we move on. I’m Burnmad, obviously.”

 

“I’m Automaton,” Automaton drawled.

 

“Kaithas.”

 

“RG.”

 

“Portalfig.”

 

“Lhikevikk.”

 

“Phantom Terror... or PT.”

 

“Locke.”

 

“Meta.”

 

“Xonar.”

 

“And again,” Burnmad said, “I am Burnmad. I wish it were under better conditions, but you know, I’ll take what I can get. Anyway, we’re here to discuss several things. Chief among them is the fact that I came here to extract the survivors of the conference and bring them to safety... and the helicopters I arrived in exploded before we could take off. We were sabotaged.”

 

“By who?” the Matoran on his right (Xonar, he remembered) asked. “Did you leave them alone?”

 

“No,” Burnmad said. “And that’s making me think that someone wanted us to arrive... they just don’t want us to leave.”

 

“Who would want that?” asked Kaithas.

 

“Xaeraz,” Portalfig said darkly.

 

“Or the White Council,” Automaton said. “They aren’t exactly sunshine and daisies, you know.”

 

“If it weren’t for Xaeraz, we wouldn’t need the White Council,” Portalfig replied.

 

“You’re wrong,” Burnmad said. “The White Council came first. Xaeraz came... afterward. In fact, I’m willing to bet that the White Council are directly responsible, although I don’t have solid proof.”

 

“Xaeraz is the reason nearly two hundred Matoran died at that conference,” Portalfig pointed out. “Out of two hundred participants, only ten survived – and that’s only because one was a Makuta, one was with said Makuta, and the other had some weird armor that let him vanish entirely.”

 

“The White Council organised the conference,” Burnmad snapped. “And my sources have told me that it wasn’t exactly all that it seemed.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Portalfig asked.

 

“I... I can’t say,” Burnmad muttered, backtracking. “You know what? Just forget I said anything. Yeah.”

 

The Onu-Matoran was opening his mouth to say more – undoubtedly in defense of the White Council, Burnmad thought – when RG interrupted.

 

“Hey,” the electric blue Su-Matoran said, glancing around. “Uh... does anyone else smell smoke?”

 

Every Matoran froze, sniffing the air. Lhikevikk was the first to move, followed closely by Locke and Burnmad himself. Burnmad met the eyes of the other two Ta-Matoran and nodded; he would recognize the smell of smoke anywhere. He opened his mouth to warn the others when the wall next to him exploded in a ball of fire, flames licking at his armor. Painfully aware of the fact that he was less sensitive to the now intense heat than the others, Burnmad grabbed Xonar and hauled him away from the wreckage as the sounds of more firebombs going off echoed through the air.

 

“Everybody move!” he yelled. “Get outside now!”

 

He pushed Phantom Terror forward, watching as Lhikevikk and Kaithas helped Portalfig escape. Realizing that he was now alone in the room, Burnmad was about to leave when he heard a low moan.

 

“Who’s there?” he asked, cringing as another wall collapsed into the flames.

 

“...help...”

 

Burnmad glanced down towards the sound, narrowing his eyes to see through the smoke and flames. He could see a shape through the pluming smoke. Coughing, he stepped closer and crouched down, recognizing the form of Automaton, trapped underneath the burning remains of what had once been part of the ceiling. The Le-Matoran was still moving, but barely.

 

“Hold on Automaton!” he ordered. “I’m going to get you out!”

 

He grabbed the largest chunk of wood, ignoring the flames licking at his palms, and tossed it aside before wrapping his arms around Automaton’s chest and heaving him out of the wreckage. The burning wood crashed to the ground as Burnmad stumbled, losing his balance. Automaton’s eyes were closed; he seemed barely conscious.

 

Which way is out?

 

Trying not to breathe in the fumes, Burnmad stumbled blindly forwards, half-carrying and half-dragging Automaton behind him. After a collision with the wall, Burnmad fumbled his way through a doorway and into the entrance room, where the flames had just started to reach. He grunted and forced himself forward just in time to avoid being buried another portion of the ceiling crashing down behind them. As he reached the doors, Burnmad shouldered them open and threw Automaton out onto the street, where the Le-Matoran landed next to Lhikevikk. Burnmad took a step before collapsing to his knees in a coughing fit, partially blinded by the harsh light of the flames under the dark night sky.

 

“What the heck was that?” Kaithas was asking. “Those were bombs!”

 

“Someone wanted us dead,” Portalfig said.

 

“Some Pyromaniac has been giving the city trouble recently,” Xonar said. “They must have seen us enter the building and thought that we would be easy targets.”

 

“Automaton needs medical attention, and fast,” Lhikevikk was saying. “Get Burnmad back on his feet if you can!”

 

“I’m fine,” Burnmad muttered, coughing once more before standing, shrugging off RG’s arms. “Is he – whoa, whoa, Locke! Locke!”

 

Locke had just collapsed against Portalfig, who was struggling to remain upright as the Ta-Matoran clawed at him with a look of absolute terror all over his face. Burnmad raced forward and pulled Locke to his feet, but a second later he and Portalfig were the only things keeping the other Ta-Matoran upright.

 

“Locke!” Burnmad said again. “Locke, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

 

All he could see in Locke’s eyes was pure terror. The Ta-Matoran’s legs had given out completely and his arms were trembling. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out – and then a moment later he coughed, spewing up blood all over the ground.

 

“What’s happening to him?” RG asked from behind them, sounding horrified.

 

“I-” Burnmad choked, “I don’t know....”

 

He watched Locke’s limbs alternately stiffen and give out completely in his and Portalfig’s arms, as the Ta-Matoran gurgled pitifully, coughing up blood and unable to speak. Burnmad was barely aware of the building they had been in moments before collapsing in upon itself; he did not register the heat wave that followed. All he and Portalfig could do was watch as Locke died in their arms.

 

Outside of his arms and half of his mask, not an inch of Locke’s body was distinguishable from the blood that now coated it. The Ta-Matoran turned his gaze to Portalfig and raised and arm, grasping at the Onu-Matoran’s mask and shoving it away towards the others before pointing a shaky finger. Burnmad turned his gaze to see who Locke was pointing at – it was the Ce-Matoran from earlier, Phantom Terror.

 

When he turned back, Locke was gone.

 

Burnmad gently laid the body of Locke to the ground as Portalfig took off. Even as Burnmad stared down at the other Ta-Matoran, stunned, he heard a cry of pain and the sounds of a scuffle from behind him. He whirled around to see Portalfig being restrained by Kaithas and RG, and saw Phantom Terror on the ground before him.

 

“Portal, what are you doing?” Kaithas asked, grunting as the Onu-Matoran nearly threw him off.

 

“Portal, enough,” Burnmad ordered, realizing what had happened. “You and I both know that killing without an explanation will solve nothing.”

 

He stepped forward, pointing to Phantom Terror. The Ce-Matoran stood to his feet, glaring right back at him.

 

“You killed Locke,” Burnmad said. “I saw you giving him that drink earlier – it was poison, wasn’t it? Who are you working for?”

 

“I didn’t poison him,” Phantom Terror scoffed. “Tell them I didn’t, Xonar!”

 

“I’d rather you left me out of this,” the purple clad Matoran muttered, stepping back.

 

“Come on!” Phantom Terror protested, retreating towards the wreckage as Burnmad advanced toward him. “You can’t seriously believe that I would be foolish enough to poison him in front of you all. I mean I know that sometimes I might seem kinda dumb, but this isn’t one of those times, I swear!”

 

“Give it up,” Portalfig said, shrugging Kaithas away. “We know it was you.”

 

“Who do you work for?” Burnmad asked. “Are you with Xaeraz?”

 

“Xaeraz?” Phantom Terror scoffed, laughing derisively. “As if!”

 

The Ce-Matoran grabbed the armor on his left shoulder and ripped it away, showing it to the group. Burnmad could make out the letters ‘w’ and ‘c’ aligned vertically on Phantom Terror’s shoulder. The letters were a stark white against the Matoran’s dark blue arm.

 

“Xaeraz has no idea what he’s in for,” Phantom Terror continued, sneering. “In fact, none of you have any idea at all-”

 

A flash of blue-white flew out of nowhere, speeding through the air past Burnmad with a woosh and impaling itself in the center of Phantom Terror’s Kanohi mask with a crunch. The Ce-Matoran wordlessly collapsed to the ground, dead before he even finished falling. A perfect triangular cone of ice protruded from both the front and the back of his head. Ruby red blood oozed out of both wounds, staining the glass-like surface.

 

Kaithas was the first to gather his wits and turn in the direction that the projectile had come from. The Matoran of Plantlife frowned. “Where did that come from? I don’t see anybody.”

 

“Of course you don’t,” Meta replied. “Who in their right mind would stick around after doing that?”

 

“Hey,” Lhikevikk called, drawing the attentions of the rest of the group. “Automaton still needs help... just in case you were all wondering, or anything.”

 

Burnmad rushed over to the Le-Matoran, guilt flooding through him as he kneeled beside Lhikevikk. He was about to ask the other Ta-Matoran to help him lift Automaton when a dark shape knelt on the other side of the Le-Matoran, pulling a small glowing blue sphere out of their black cloak and revealing what looked like suspiciously familiar black and silver armor.

 

“Who are you?” Burnmad asked.

 

The figure did not respond, activating the sphere and causing it to flash a vibrant magenta, crackling with energy before the unknown Matoran shoved it into Automaton’s chest, where it fazed through the Le-Matoran’s body. Lhikevikk lurched forward towards the newcomer but Burnmad pulled him back, staring at the Matoran.

 

“Healing sphere. He’ll be fine by morning,” the figure said, their voice crackling through a filter, leaving Burnmad unable to match an identity to it.

 

Before any of them could react, the Matoran had vanished back into the dark of night, their black cloak making them impossible to spot by the time any had recovered their wits. Burnmad shared a glance with Lhikevikk.

 

“What do you think?” Lhikevikk asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Burnmad said, looking down at the still unconscious form of Automaton. “I guess we’ll have to wait until the morning.”

To Be Continued.

 

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CHAPTER FOUR

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Ehks]---

 

The room he was in was dimly lit and the walls were a drab gray, barely reflecting the light. All in all it was not the most comfortable workshop that he had ever been in, although he could certainly recall making do with less than this.

 

He had, predictably, been confronted by Lhikevikk and Portalfig several hours before, and the two Matoran had interrogated him regarding the death of Locke (or, more precisely, why he had saved Automaton and not the Matoran that had survived the conference with them). He had explained the choice to them as easily as he could: simply put, he had not been present.

 

The other survivors had grown so used to the idea of Ehks being the “Medic” that they seemed incapable of understanding that he was not medically qualified at all – his protection during the conference had consisted of providing Matoran with body armor that would stop a direct attack, not using some fancy serum to bring people back to life.

 

That was not to say that he was not trying; in fact, as soon as he had known that Voltex would recover from the attempted assassination, Ehks had locked himself into the first workshop space he could find to begin building. There were two projects that he had been forced to put on hold for far too long, and now that he finally had the tools to build both of them, he was afraid that time had already run out.

 

Behind him, someone hammered on the iron door from outside the room. The sound blasted off of the walls and Ehks covered his ears until the banging stopped before turning and opening the door to reveal the mask of Detective Canis.

 

“What do you need?” he asked wearily, stepping back to let the De-Matoran into the room.

 

“Just wondering what you’re up to in here,” Canis said. “The other survivors say you can be trusted, but... well, let’s just say that I’ve learned not to be too careful.”

 

“I understand,” Ehks said, waving his arm and pointing to the schematics on the table. “I have two projects in progress right now. The first one, which I’m building right now, I’ve dubbed the ‘Reanimator’. If I’ve designed it correctly, we should be able to revive certain Matoran from beyond the grave.”

 

“Certain Matoran?”

 

“Yeah,” Ehks said, shrugging. “You know, depends on how they died. We can’t revive someone who’s turned to ashes or been flattened or ripped apart, but maybe they just took a bullet to the chest. I’m not sure how it’s going to work or if it’ll even work at all.”

 

“And the second project?”

 

“Not one that I think I’ll have time to finish,” Ehks explained. “But if built... well, it’s portable, so whoever wields it would be able to go anywhere.”

 

“How?”

 

“It teleports, but it specifically teleports to one place....”

 

“...where?”

 

“I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t believe me, and even if you did... well, let’s just say that it would be really bad for morale. I don’t know if I’ll even build this one, so don’t worry about it.”

 

“I worry about everything,” Canis said. “That’s my job.”

 

“I think you should lighten up,” Ehks said. “We have enough drama as it is.”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Canis muttered, glancing back one last time as he stepped out the door. “Hey... if you need anything, don’t be afraid to call.”

 

“I won’t need help, but thanks anyway,” Ehks replied.

 

The door slammed shut as he turned his attention back to the half-built Reanimator prototype, glancing over the schematics once before rapidly continuing to put it together.

 

---[4 Years Ago]---

---[burnmad]---

 

“Alright,” Burnmad whispered, glancing around to all seven members of the team. “On my mark, Squishy, you open the door.”

 

It had been nearly a year since Xaeraz’s team had been betrayed on that operation and the Fe-Matoran had been taken prisoner by the White Council. While Xaeraz had clearly managed to keep their identities secret up until this point (Burnmad doubted any of them would still be alive if he had), that did not mean that the Resistance could afford to be without their best offensive tactician any longer. It had taken them far longer than Burnmad had hoped to achieve this window of opportunity, and if it was wasted....

 

“Burnmad?” the voice of Automaton broke the silence. “Uh... when are you...?”

 

“Now,” Burnmad ordered.

 

Squishy entered the final line of coding and successfully hacked open the doors. Burnmad and two of the other Matoran lunged into the chamber, unloading disk after disk into the guards throughout the room. The rest of the squad followed them in, and Automaton pointed up in the air in the center of the room.

 

“What is it?” Burnmad asked, searching for any more guards.

 

“He’s up there,” Automaton said.

 

Glancing up to where the Le-Matoran was pointing, Burnmad cursed as he saw Xaeraz hanging from the ceiling in chains. “Get him down safely, and do it quickly.”

 

Turning to Squishy, Burnmad pulled the Bo-Matoran aside. “How much longer do we have?”

 

“Maybe three minutes in here?” Squishy said. “If we’re lucky, their systems will stay down for fifteen. Once we’re out of the compound, we should be okay.”

 

“Find us a route to their vehicle storage,” Burnmad ordered. “I want two hovercraft; we can separate and use one as a decoy to distract their forces. Xaeraz is in no condition to be traveling the chute system.”

 

“Of course.”

 

While the Bo-Matoran rushed over to the terminal by the entrance, Burnmad turned back to the rest of the team just in time to catch Automaton as he fell off of the ladder. Before he could scold the Le-Matoran, another member of the team called out and Xaeraz was dropping through the air. Burnmad dove forwards and caught the Fe-Matoran before he could hit the ground, stumbling before Automaton helped him catch his balance.

 

“He looks terrible,” Automaton said.

 

“Yeah, well, he’ll get better,” Burnmad said. “Hopefully.”

 

“Let’s go,” Squishy called. “Vehicle storage is five minutes from here! We better hurry!”

 

Transferring the body of Xaeraz to two Po-Matoran, Burnmad stole a blaster from one of the guards and led the way out of the chamber, matching pace with Squishy as they snuck back through the halls. They reached the vehicle bay without incident and the Ta-Matoran smiled as he saw multiple hovercraft vehicles waiting in a line.

 

“Load Xaeraz into one and divide into two groups,” Burnmad ordered. “Xaeraz comes with me. Squishy, you’ll lead the second group as a distraction if we need it.”

 

“Yes sir,” the Bo-Matoran said, climbing into one of the hovercrafts.

 

“Automaton, you’re with me,” Burnmad said quietly. “I want you to keep an eye on Xaeraz, make sure he’s okay. You’re as close to a medic as we have until we get back to base.”

 

“Of course, Burnmad.”

 

The team split up and within a minute Burnmad was driving out of the hangar, with Squishy right behind. As the hangar doors shut behind them, the sirens began to wail in the compound.

 

“That’s our cue to hurry up,” he muttered, picking up speed and swerving into a backstreet. “Automaton, how far?”

 

“Far enough to worry,” the Le-Matoran answered. “Kastrana?”

 

“We’ll have White Council forces on us in three minutes,” the Ce-Matoran said. “Burnmad, I’d recommend starting that distraction now.”

 

Nodding in affirmation, Burnmad activated the radio. “Squishy, you there?”

 

“Right behind you,” the Bo-Matoran said.

 

“Get Xaeraz out of here,” Burnmad ordered.

 

“Got it.”

 

The other hovercraft sped past them and then turned left at an intersection, knocking over a sales stand and causing a variety of Rahi bone decorations to cascade to the ground. Burnmad continued to pick up speed, daring to hope that they might make it to base unchallenged –

 

BAM!

 

An entire Vahki enforcement squad slammed into them from the side, knocking them off-course and causing them to plow right through a bakery and an antiques shop (Burnmad could have sworn he heard Automaton sob) before he managed to get them back on the road.

 

“He’s waking up!” Automaton shouted.

 

“Keep him safe!” Burnmad yelled, cursing as they were nearly spun out by another Vahki squad.

 

“How many are there?” Kastrana asked, sliding up into the front beside him.

 

“Three squads of seven,” Burnmad muttered, glancing back to try and catch a glimpse of Xaeraz. “Is he-”

 

BAM!

 

Several Vahki rammed into the hovercraft from the front, and were immediately plowed over for their troubles – but they did cause the vehicle to screech to a sudden halt. Burnmad raised his arms to block the glass and Vahki parts that flew at his mask and heard the other three Matoran in the back tumbling around before they came to a stop.

 

“What happened?” Automaton asked woozily, clawing his way to Burnmad. “Where’s Kastrana?”

 

The Ce-Matoran was nowhere to be found.

 

“She’s dead,” Burnmad said shortly, trying the ignition. “And we’re about to be as well. We don’t stand a chance against Vahki. How’s Segrolf?”

 

Automaton glanced back at the Po-Matoran, making a face. “If impaling your face on the metal frame of a seat is, uh, fatal, then....”

 

“Xaeraz?”

 

“Still alive,” a voice groaned from somewhere in the back. “Where am I?”

 

“Automaton, help him out,” Burnmad ordered. “I’ll see if I can hold off the Vahki.”

 

“You’re going to last about ten seconds.”

 

“Then it better take you less than that to get outta here.”

 

As the Le-Matoran scrambled back to help Xaeraz, Burnmad forced his door open and crawled out onto the street, collapsing immediately as the butt of a Vahki staff slammed into his head. He fell to his hands and knees, using a nearby street sign to haul himself to his feet.

 

“Surrender or run,” the robotic voice of the Alpha Vahki said.

 

“Neither,” Burnmad panted. “I choose neither.”

 

“Surrender or run,” the Alpha Vahki repeated. “Criminal, you have ten seconds to comply or suffer-”

 

The Alpha Vahki exploded before it could finish giving him the directive, followed by the other remaining units behind it. Burnmad shielded his eyes from the blasts as Automaton helped Xaeraz stumble out of the hovercraft.

 

“Need help?” Squishy asked. “The entrance is just around the corner, by the way.”

 

Accepting the Bo-Matoran’s offered disk launcher, Burnmad sighed. “Kastrana and Segrolf are dead. How many of your half made it?”

 

“Just me,” Squishy muttered. “We ran into White Ten. I barely escaped, and he’s probably tracking me down right now. The faster we disappear, the better.”

 

“Automaton, do you have Xaeraz?” Burnmad asked.

 

“Right here,” the Le-Matoran muttered, joining them with Xaeraz hanging off of his shoulder. “Don’t tell me we’re all that’s left.”

 

“We’re all that’s left,” Squishy said, turning away. “Come on.”

 

Helping Automaton to carry Xaeraz, Burnmad followed Squishy as the Bo-Matoran rounded the corner and ducked into an alleyway. As they followed, Squishy pulled open the doors into what, to most Matoran, would appear to be an ordinary cellar. They ducked inside and Squishy pulled it closed behind them, leaving them in the shadows.

 

“Does anyone have a light?” Automaton asked.

 

“I do,” Burnmad said. “Squishy, take Xaeraz for me – I’ll lead the way.”

 

Switching places with the Bo-Matoran, Burnmad pulled a torch out and lit it, the flames flickering out and licking at the wall as he stepped down the first few steps of the stairwell and into the Archives, where the main force of the Resistance was hidden. They walked in silence for several minutes until reaching a guarded gate, where the Onu-Matoran waiting nodded and let them through in silence.

 

“I’ve got it from here,” Burnmad said. “You two go get some rest, start writing up the report. Make sure to detail how the others died, see if the White Council tried out any new kill tactics on us.”

 

“Yes sir,” the other two said in unison, leaving Xaeraz with the Ta-Matoran.

 

“How’re you doing, Xaeraz?” Burnmad asked.

 

The Fe-Matoran’s gaze met his and Burnmad flinched away involuntarily, recognizing the pain and the fury in Xaeraz’s eyes.

 

“I’ll... uh, I’ll bring you to Fighty and Agni,” Burnmad said, turning away. “Do you still need help, or...?”

 

Xaeraz answered him by stalking forwards alone, and Burnmad remained where he was for a moment in stunned silence before remembering what he was supposed to do and hurrying after the Matoran of Iron.

 

When they reached the room, Burnmad slowly pushed open the door, revealing Fighty and the Ta-Matoran Agni. He stepped aside to let Xaeraz in the room.

 

“Welcome back,” Agni said.

 

Nothing could have prepared Burnmad for what happened next. Xaeraz lurched forwards, catching Agni and slamming the Ta-Matoran into the wall before gripping both sides of the Ta-Matoran’s head and crushing it in his hands before dropping the deceased Agni to the floor.

 

“I... what?” Burnmad croaked.

 

“Xaeraz, what’s going on?” Fighty asked stepping forward. “Why are you-”

 

“Shut up,” the Fe-Matoran whispered harshly, his eyes wild. “All of you shut up! Why are there so many of you?!”

 

“There are only two of us,” Burnmad said. “Xaeraz-”

 

“I SAID SHUT UP!” the Fe-Matoran bellowed, clutching his head and falling to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why won’t you stop talking?

 

“Xaeraz,” Fighty said.

 

With a roar, the Fe-Matoran leaped at the silver clad creator of Bionifight, shoving him backwards. Fighty collapsed to the ground and Xaeraz landed on top of him, ripping the other Matoran’s chest armor off with his bare hands.

 

“Xaeraz, stop!” Burnmad cried.

 

It was no use – blood poured from Fighty as Xaeraz ripped an arm off and punched his Kanohi so hard that it split in two. Pulling a knife from Fighty’s hip, Xaeraz stabbed the other Matoran no less than six times before tossing the knife aside, and crawling away, clawing his way back to his feet and staring at the unmoving, bloody corpse, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

 

Horrified, Burnmad began to back away, freezing when Xaeraz’s gaze flicked up to meet his.

 

“Go,” the Fe-Matoran ordered. “You saved me... I’ll let you go just this once.”

 

“I-I don’t understand-”

 

“I said GO!” Xaeraz yelled.

 

Burnmad stumbled over to the door and slipped out, slamming it shut behind him and staggering around the corner, where he would have collapsed if Automaton had not been there to catch him. The Le-Matoran stared at him in concern as Squishy joined them.

 

“Burn, what’s wrong?” Squishy asked.

 

“I-it’s...” Burnmad stuttered, too horrified to speak properly. “They’re dead....”

 

“Who?” Automaton asked.

 

“Need to get out of here,” Burnmad said, straightening and pushing the images to the back of his mind. “We need to leave now. Not safe anymore. They did something to him... did something to Xaeraz... he’s gone insane.”

 

“Oh, no...” Squishy said softly. “We’d better hurry. Come on.”

 

“Wait,” Automaton said. “What about everyone else?”

 

“No time,” Burnmad whispered. “He gave me one chance to walk away and save myself. Can’t waste time. Resistance is gone.”

 

“You can either stay here and be killed, or escape and live to see another day,” Squishy said.

 

“What are you three up to?” a familiar voice asked.

 

With a yell, Burnmad whirled around and punched Xaeraz in the face, sending the Fe-Matoran sprawling. Without waiting for a response, Burnmad grabbed both Squishy and Automaton and hauled them away, and together the three Matoran sprinted for the exit.

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]—

 

When he awoke once more, it was to the sensation of what felt like four hands full of fingers trying to strangle his right arm.

 

Without a second thought, he willed the Repulsor Arm to fire, and to his satisfaction, it did – and whatever had been on his arm immediately vanished. Opening his eyes, Voltex sat up and winced as pain shot through his left shoulder, reminding him of what had happened before he lost consciousness.

 

It felt like a wall of anger had been erected within his mind again.

 

“What were you doing?” he asked, turning to face the two Matoran still frozen in place beside him and glaring at them. “Who are you? Wait, I know you – you’re Baltarc. Who’s the new guy?”

 

“I’m known as Vinylstep,” the Matoran closest to him – another Matoran of Sonics, Voltex noted with a touch of distaste – said quietly. “We were attempting to remove this device from your arm.”

 

“Well don’t,” Voltex snapped. “It’s mine, and if you keep interfering with it, I’ll blast you both and kill you. Don’t think I won’t do it, you know – I shot my own friend in the head with it when he... when he...”

 

Mata-Nui what have I done? He thought.

 

He flashed back to a memory, one of a communication tablet and the Fe-Matoran shown on it:

 

“If I told you to kill one of the Matoran you’re trapped with right now, would you do it?”

 

He had killed one of his best friends in cold blood, rather than searching for another solution. He had watched two more of his best friends get shot without feeling any sort of remorse, and the one revenge kill he had taken had been on the one Matoran who had actually apologized for their role and tried to fight against it.

 

What had he done?

 

“Whatever you did after the conference,” Baltarc said, interrupting his thoughts (and causing a burst of frustration within him again), “just know that we forgive you for it. That situation hasn’t been encountered before and none of us can possibly imagine what kind of stress you were under.”

 

“And before you kill us,” Vinylstep added, “you might want to know that Phantom Terror and Locke have been killed, and an attempt was made on Automaton’s life.”

 

“What? By who?” Voltex asked.

 

“We aren’t entirely sure,” Vinylstep said. “But there is a primary suspect....”

 

The De-Matoran trailed off, and Voltex glared at both him and Baltarc as they remained silent. “Who is it?”

 

“A Ko-Matoran inventor,” Baltarc said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “He showed up out of the blue with a gun in his hands, but Canis put him out of commission quickly.”

 

Voltex’s gaze narrowed, and he could feel the rage boiling over. “Take me to him immediately. I know this Matoran... he escaped my wrath once. He will not do so again.”

 

The room they led him to was empty except for Detective Canis and another Matoran - one that Voltex immediately recognized as the Ko-Matoran Kayn, who had somehow revived himself and vanished before he could be caught again. Voltex was not sure how he felt about that - on the one hand, it meant less blood on his hands... but on the other, Kayn himself was responsible for the death of Scanty and had attempted to kill Ehks.

 

"Long time no see, Voltex," the Ko-Matoran said as he entered the room, sounding bored. "Please tell me that you, at least, believe me. If you don't, you're truly insulting my intelligence."

 

"Explain."

 

"Simple," Kayn said with a shrug. "I disappeared when I was guilty - so if I had killed Locke, why wouldn't I just remain hidden? I have an entire island at my disposal to hide, Voltex - it would be simple enough. Your comrades here only found me because I wished to be found."

 

"And why did you want to be found?" Voltex asked, his patience running thin.

 

"To help," Kayn said. "I offer my assistance in peace. Rumour has it that my employers are searching you out."

 

"Who are your employers?"

 

"So you don't know... unfortunate," the Ko-Matoran said, shrugging. "I'm afraid that if you don't know who they are yet, it's not my place to tell you."

 

"Then I have no more use for you," Voltex said, turning to Canis. "Execute him immediately. He was killing on Xaeraz's orders and probably has something on him right now."

 

Movement from Kayn set off every alarm bell in his body - on instinct Voltex lunged forward, tackling Canis into the wall as a blast of lightning hit the wall behind where they had been standing. Canis pulled out his disk launcher as they stood and aimed it at Kayn, but found the Ko-Matoran already prepared for the standoff, with weapons in both hands - one pointed at Baltarc and Vinylstep, and the other at Voltex and Canis.

 

"I tried to be reasonable, I really did," Kayn said. "But my employers will be understanding, I think, when I return to them empty handed. You're clearly not ready yet... but you will be. And when you are, I will be there."

 

"I should have made sure you were dead," Voltex growled.

 

That earned him a laugh.

 

"Oh, I was dead, alright," Kayn said, smirking. "I'm a master of technology - I just found my way back, that's all. And you, Voltex... you're becoming a thorn in too many sides."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

He did not have the chance to find out - before Kayn could answer, three gun shots echoed within the small space as three bullets hit the Ko-Matoran in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards to collapse against the wall.

 

"What was that for?!" Canis cried, turning to Vinylstep. "Why?"

 

"He dodged death once," Vinylstep said, stepping forward and grabbing Kayn's body. "Help me take it outside to burn. We can't have him dodging it twice."

 

Furious and confused, Canis muttered something about discussing it later, but nonetheless moved to help Vinylstep with the corpse. After a moment Baltarc joined them, and as the three left the room, Voltex glanced to Vinylstep, and their eyes met.

 

This is my trust, Vinylstep seemed to be saying, and my faith. Do not break it.

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Xaeraz]---

 

“I was not expecting for you to actually show up,” Xaeraz said casually, glancing over to the hulking form of the Makuta that had entered the room, the door hissing shut and vanishing out of view as it blended with the wall. “I thought you would remain in hiding... or that perhaps you were already long gone.”

 

He held an arm in his lap, and blood dripped from the detached limb if he jostled it enough. The limb had a dual purpose; the first was to help him, and the second was to cover up the specialized weapon so that Makuta Luroka could not see it.

 

First they would talk, and then Luroka would perish.

 

“I would offer you a seat,” Xaeraz continued, “but I doubt you could do anything but crush the chair.”

 

Luroka grunted and stalked forward, knocking the chair aside and halting in front of the small table that sat between the two of them. Xaeraz ignored the way the shadows seemed to grow around the Makuta. Brushing his fingers along the weapon concealed in his lap, Xaeraz spoke again.

 

“You’re awfully quiet today.”

 

“I have never been the most outspoken of Makuta,” Luroka growled, his voice deep, guttural, and ruthlessly cold. “Others speak enough as it is. And often, I have others to speak my words for me.”

 

“That is true,” Xaeraz agreed. “Although Sumiki isn’t here right now....”

 

“He holds no illusions as to your intentions,” Luroka said. “You would kill him before he could set foot in this room.”

 

“And you do not believe I would do the same to you?”

 

“I stand here as proof that you would not do the same to me... and I am a Makuta. You have no hope of overpowering me. My cooperation with you thus far has been entirely of my own accord, and it shall remain that way.”

 

Deciding to leave that particular issue of loyalty alone for the moment, Xaeraz pushed on. “You know, I thought I could trust you and Sumiki. I thought you were working for me... or at least with me. But you broke the rules of my little game... you refused to follow my agenda... and to me that suggests that you both have an agenda of your own.”

 

The Makuta regarded him silently, and under the table Xaeraz clenched his fists to avoid allowing his anger to show on his face.

 

“I take it,” the Fe-Matoran said, “that your silence means I was not the only one you were working with. Who else has your attentions? Please, enlighten me – after all, I will surely not be walking away from this meeting.”

 

“Your cause has long been a lost one,” Luroka said. “I know of your bloodlust and what brought it forth. I understand the depths of your madness perhaps even more clearly than those who afflicted it upon you, for it was I who gave them the idea in the first place. Before you ever contacted me, I was working alongside the White Council, and that shall not change. You are lost.”

 

Xaeraz sighed. “I was afraid you would admit this, but I am not surprised, Luroka. I suppose this is where our alliance truly ends and we sever all ties.”

 

He pushed his chair back, staring into Luroka’s eyes. They were pitch black. “Unfortunately for you, Makuta, I have absolutely no intention of dying tonight... nor do I ever allow a traitor to survive without punishment for going against Project Mayhem.”

 

“If I so much as think about it, I can turn you to dust,” Luroka growled.

 

The Fe-Matoran stood, the arm falling to the floor as he revealed the weapon in his arms, aimed right at the Makuta’s chest. Xaeraz chuckled as he activated the portable cannon and it charged up.

 

“What a shame.”

 

With a whoosh, the bright blue laser was blasted at Luroka, striking the mighty Makuta in the chest. The black titan stumbled back, turning his gaze towards his chest in shock as it began to rapidly turn a brownish-orange and fragment away.

 

“This weapon is a prototype,” Xaeraz explained. “It doesn’t even have a name yet. But when fired upon a target made of metal... it causes the target to rapidly turn to rust and crumble away. I’d estimate that you have about five minutes before all of your armor is gone... but then, that would be assuming I only shoot you once.”

 

He did not.

 

Luroka collapsed as three more shots landed in his chest, his shoulder, and his leg, causing both affected limbs to fall away even as his body caved in upon itself.

 

“I am made of antidermis,” the Makuta growled. “This will not kill me!”

 

“Oh, I realize that,” Xaeraz said, halfway through the door already. “It’s just to make you vulnerable.”

 

The Fe-Matoran stepped out of the room and pulled what looked like a detonator from his hip, flicking the switch upon it. Inside he could hear Makuta Luroka howling as the defense systems concealed within the walls blasted him with electricity, frying the Makuta’s essence. It lasted thirty seconds before abruptly cutting out, leaving total silence in its place.

 

As he exited the building, Xaeraz did not look back.

To Be Continued.

 

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CHAPTER FIVE

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

“How’s the shoulder?” Portalfig asked as Voltex slowly took a seat, being careful not to agitate his left arm.

 

“It’s fine,” Voltex said. “Taka Nuvia says it should be all fixed up within an hour, assuming I don’t go knocking it around again. I didn’t make any promises.”

 

“Probably for the best,” Portalfig replied.

 

He glanced around the table while Portalfig shut the door, taking note of the empty space that only Lhikevikk and Ehks currently occupied. Frowning, he said, “is this it? What about TBK and Pulse?”

 

“TBK’s off doing his own thing right now,” Ehks replied. “He said he needs some time alone. I guess Locke’s death hit him pretty hard. They’d apparently been considering a collab comic before the conference, gotten pretty close.”

 

“And Pulse?”

 

“Busy trying to get clearance for us to actually enter the city,” Lhikevikk said. “He’s not having much luck. Hero and Canis are… reluctant, to say the least.”

 

“So is there a point to the four of us gathering in one place, aside from making ourselves easier to kill?” Voltex asked, removing his cloak.

 

“We thought that it might be useful to discuss what’s been going on,” Portalfig commented. “You know, since we all just survived a traumatic experience and it’s now turning out that we’re still being hunted down.”

 

“I can defend myself,” Voltex snapped. “They won’t kill me.”

 

“We understand that,” Portalfig said. “All of us can defend ourselves. We simply thought it might be useful to plan.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“What’s gotten into you?” Lhikevikk asked. “Why are you so aggressive all of a sudden?”

 

Voltex snorting, glaring over at Ehks. “Should I fill them in, Ehks? Tell them what Luroka really did to me?”

 

The silver Matoran shrugged, not rising to the bait. “If you want.”

 

The Ba-Matoran turned back to Lhikevikk, leaning closer. “Luroka didn’t try to kill me… he tried to corrupt me. Turn me evil. And he very nearly succeeded, although Ehks here managed to stop it before I could fall to darkness completely. That said, he still did a rubbish job.”

 

“But if he saved you, then why are you so irritable?” Portalfig asked.

 

“Am I not allowed?!” Voltex cried out, before slumping down onto the table. Not paying attention, he missed the sound of the door opening behind him as he continued. “I… it’s driving me mad. I can feel it. I’m turning into this mindless freak, and the only time I feel like myself again is when I see blood. I’m craving the sight of it, just so I can feel normal. I want to kill everything all the time.”

 

“I know how to fix that,” a new voice said.

 

Startled, Voltex jumped from his chair and whirled around, firing a blast off from the Repulsor Arm wildly. The two newcomers ducked under the laser and it sailed through the open door and down the hallway.

 

“Watch it!” yelled the Ta-Matoran, who was the one that had spoken before. “We come in peace!”

 

“What do you want, Hero?” Voltex asked.

 

“I have decided to grant you all access to the city,” the Ta-Matoran said. “But Vinyl and I couldn’t help but overhear your predicament… and I’m happy to say that I know how you can be cured.”

 

“How?”

 

“There’s a machine in the parliament building that was designed to draw out shadow energies,” Hero explained. “If you can make it there, you would be able to save yourself.”

 

If he makes it there?” Lhikevikk asked.

 

“BZ-Koro isn’t safe anymore,” Vinylstep said. “It’s been infiltrated by agents of the White Council, and on top of the issues with Project Mayhem… the city is going to become a warzone within the week.”

 

“So I’ll never make it there,” Voltex said.

 

“You can if you have weapons to defend yourself,” Hero said.

 

“All I have is this thing,” Voltex said, gesturing to the Repulsor Arm. “I mean, it’s useful, but as far as combat goes… I feel like it might be a bit of a nightmare.”

 

“Then take this,” Vinylstep said, unclipping a sheathe from his waist and handing it to him. “It’s a Katana, engineered from energized protodermis on the island of Nynrah. How they did it is beyond me, but it’s lasted me for years.”

 

Voltex stared at the Matoran of Sonics incredulously. “Are you sure?”

 

“Take it before I kick you for making my arm hurt,” Vinylstep said.

 

Grabbing the sheathe, Voltex stood up, clipping it on and grabbing his cloak. “Let’s head out now. I’d like to be fixed as soon as possible.”

 

“Hold on,” Hero said. “Before you go, you need to gather three others to activate the machine.”

 

“There are more than three of you here,” Voltex said slowly. “I think I’m fine.”

 

“No,” Hero said, shaking his head. “It’s a machine to draw out shadow - in order to activate it, you need three Matoran of Light.”

 

Sagging, Voltex sighed. “I only know of two - Taka Nuvia and Meta. And that’s two more than most Matoran will know in their lifetime.”

 

“Actually, you know three,” Ehks said, slowly standing to his feet as well and holding out his hand.

 

Voltex turned to face him, watching as the silver arm slowly turned white and gold. “What…?”

 

“I’m an Av-Matoran as well,” Ehks said, looking for all the world like he hated that fact. “I’m a Matoran of Light.”

 

---[4 Years Ago]---

---[White Thirteen]---

 

He typed as fast as he could, his fingers flying across the holographic keyboard with blinding speed. The 200, 000 word report on the Resistance - or rather, now that they had allowed Xaeraz to be released, lack of it - was due later that day, and he was only halfway done. At this point he would already be making excuses to White One regarding why he had not finished it on time, but the more he had ready the better.

 

Xaeraz… the name struck a familiar chord in his memory. The Fe-Matoran had been a guard in the Coliseum when the White Council took over, and while every other guard had been taken prisoner or killed, Xaeraz had managed to escape.

 

He remembered the incident because it had been he who ran into Xaeraz in the office of Black Six. It had been him who toppled out of the window with Xaeraz in tow, leading the other members of the White Council to temporarily pronounce both of them as dead. He was the one who had survived a fall that should have killed him, and him that had seen how mangled Xaeraz’s body had become from the landing.

 

The Fe-Matoran should have been dead; the fall should have been deadly to any Matoran not on the White Council. While White Thirteen’s advanced armor could protect him from almost anything, Xaeraz did not have that advantage. The Fe-Matoran’s legs had both been bent at odd angles, as had his right arm. Most of his armor was either crumpled, cracked, or in pieces on the ground around him. Yet Xaeraz had still been alive, still been awake. He had vowed revenge on the White Council before summoning a Coliseum transport bike and speeding away.

 

White Thirteen wondered if Xaeraz’s occupation was surviving things that should kill ordinary Matoran. They had, after all, spent the better part of a year trying to kill him in the most painful ways possible without success.

 

He was interrupted by the hiss of his office door opening to reveal White Seven, who sighed,

 

“Aren’t you done that yet? You’ve had a week.”

 

“I’ve been busy,” White Thirteen replied, scowling. “Give me a break.”

 

“Well, you’ll have to come up with excuses later,” White Seven said briskly. “White One wants us in the Deep.”

 

Sighing, White Thirteen stood. “How many times do we have to argue over whether or not to execute them? Nobody even knows that the old leaders of Metru-Nui are still alive. We can leave them there forever.”

 

“You sound weak,” White Seven commented. “I think we should kill them. Then we don’t have to stress about how they could possibly escape.”

 

“Because escaping from the Deep undetected is so likely,” White Thirteen muttered.

 

The Deep was located several stories underneath the Coliseum - a custom prison with only one exit. Escaping would trigger just about every alarm in the Coliseum, and activate defense systems that would kill the escapee before they had even made it halfway out the door.

 

“White One’s right. You need to be more ruthless,” White Seven said, pulling out a metal plate and tossing it on the floor. “Step on.”

 

“I know how teleporters work,” White Thirteen snapped. “I designed them.”

 

He stepped on beside White Seven and they vanished in a flash of light, appearing down in the hallway outside the Deep, where most of the other eleven members of the White Council were waiting.

 

“White Thirteen,” White One said softly. “So happy you could make it.”

 

“I have a report to be working on,” White Thirteen said, brushing off the greeting. “Spit out what you need and stop wasting my time.”

 

“Still hostile? We’ll see if this changes anything,” White One said, opening the door. “Why don’t we go inside?”

 

The group stepped inside, with White Thirteen pushing ahead until he was the furthest inside. Ignoring the prisoners locked in stasis tubes, he turned back to face White One. “You know my opinion on this issue, White One. It hasn’t changed.”

 

“Why not, I wonder?” White One asked. “First you lie to us, saying that Xaeraz died in that fall… he went on to form a Resistance group so powerful that, had they realized their own strength, could have waged an actual war with us and quite possibly won. Then you never hand reports in on time, and your security checks were so horrid that I had to remove you completely. And you refuse to allow us to execute prisoners that are better off dead.”

 

“We all know where they’ll end up,” White Thirteen said. “Do you want to worry about them up there, or down here, where they’ll never move?”

 

“I am always up there, except for when matters of importance drag me down here,” White One said. “I will see them ended forever.”

 

“And that is both pointless and overly cruel,” White Thirteen snapped.

 

“We’re the White Council,” White Nine said. “We’re attempting to seize control of the universe. That’s not exactly what nice people do.”

 

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’re all that stupid,” White Thirteen said. “Two? Three? Four? Six? Seven? Ten? Eleven?”

 

“Is the universe not worth it?” White Six asked. “Are you not attracted to the power?”

 

“I think Metru-Nui is fine,” White Thirteen said. “We took over Metru-Nui and were nearly beaten. Taking over the universe is stretching ourselves too far.”

 

“So you seem to believe,” White One said. “Your lack of confidence in our endeavours is obvious, and your lack of strength even more so. I will give you one more chance to prove yourself, White Thirteen. Kill the prisoners now, yourself.”

 

“Or?”

 

“Do not push me,” White One said darkly.

 

White Thirteen crossed his arms. “I’ve made my opinion clear. So go ahead - kill me.”

 

“Not yet,” White One said. “I hereby revoke your place on the White Council and exile you to the southern islands. You will be given a one-way teleport, and be forced to survive down there on your own forever. And should you find your way back to me… I shall make it the most painful experience you can imagine.”

 

“I hated being a number anyway,” the former White Thirteen said. “Someday, you’ll pay.”

 

“Everyone does eventually,” White One said, tossing a teleporter pad on the ground. “Go now, before I decide to kill you.”

 

With one final glance to White Seven, the former White Thirteen shrugged and stepped onto the teleporter pad, vanishing in a flash of light and appearing  on the shores of a desolate landscape, water lapping at his ankles.

 

No more White Council, he thought. Alright… time to find my way back to civilization. It’s high time I did something to fix what I’ve done to the universe.

 

He glanced down and watched as his armor changed color from pure white to a rustic silver. Squaring his shoulders, he began his journey inland.

 

Of course, I’ll need an alias to go by….

 

---[Agent 64]---

---[Present Day]---

 

She spotted the lone Po-Matoran sitting atop a large rock by the shoreline, outside the wreckage of the conference hall. Here and there, pieces of what used to be two helicopters were strewn about; but the area was, for the most part, clear. Adjusting her hood to make sure that it blocked view of her mask, she crept nearer. Once she was a few feet away, she slowly drew out a blaster and activated it; the sudden humming of the gun startled the Matoran, who started to turn around.

 

“Stay where you are,” she ordered, “and tell me your name.”

 

“People call me TBK,” the Po-Matoran said, facing the sea again, where Metru-Nui could be faintly seen upon the horizon. “Who’re you?”

 

“That’s not important. I just need some information.”

 

“And if I don’t give it to you?”

 

“Then they will find your corpse in the morning, if I leave it here at all.”

 

TBK let out a laugh. “Your death threats don’t scare me… not after what I’ve been through. I guess it depends on what you need. I’m not exactly the most knowledgeable of my group… but then, to get to those who are, you’re going to need to get through a lot of Matoran.”

 

“Where is the Matoran known as Vinylstep?” Agent 64 asked, cutting straight to the chase.

 

The Po-Matoran shrugged, shaking his head. “Sorry. Heard of him, haven’t met him yet. He’s supposedly guarding the mayor, although I don’t know where the mayor is either.”

 

Her eyes narrowed, but she could hear the truth in his words. Sighing irritably, she considered questioning him on her second target - was there even a point?

 

Perhaps not, she thought. He is, after all, quite prominent….

 

“Do you need anything else, or are you just going to shoot me?” TBK asked.

 

“No, we’re through…” she said, trailing off and stepping closer. “There’s just one more thing I need to do.”

 

“What-”

 

She cut the Po-Matoran’s question off, swinging the blaster and clubbing TBK in the head, knocking the Po-Matoran out instantly. Agent 64 remained where she was for a moment, watching TBK collapse to the ground, before departing.

 

---[Voltex]---

---[Present Day]---

 

The evening had long since faded into night by the time Voltex arrived at the entrance to the office tower. Above him, a street lamp flickered, struggling to provide light to the dark streets of BZ-Koro. Once bustling with activity, at night the city now felt like a ghost town; disturbing, silent, and empty. The Ba-Matoran shivered, flinching as the sidewalk suddenly burst into view; when he had recovered, he realized that the light was emitting from the office tower itself.

 

I guess we’re waiting inside.

 

He pushed open the door, ignoring the ding, dong that echoed throughout the lobby.

 

“Hello?” he called.

 

“Voltex!” a voice called back - Hero’s head popped out of what looked like a maintenance room. “Glad you could make it! Took me forever to find the lights, but I did it!”

 

Ding, dong.

 

Voltex turned to see the De-Matoran Canis entering.

 

“We’re too visible out here,” the officer said by way of greeting, one hand on the holster at his waist. “Let’s find an area that’s more secure.”

 

“I know just the place,” Hero said. “I would prefer to meet somewhere else, but I left the things that I require here earlier during a meeting that was unfortunately interrupted by the forces of Project Mayhem. We’ll need to be quick.”

 

The Ta-Matoran led them behind the lobby desk and through a door marked “employees only”, into a small room with three more doors. He took them into the one labelled “airforce”, where he crouched underneath a small desk and pulled open a filing cabinet, grabbing a folder and tossing it to Voltex before briskly exiting the room and leading them back out into the lobby. This time they entered a different door marked “employees only”; it was a staff lounge.

 

“Alright, grab a seat,” Hero said, flopping down on the floor and nodding to Voltex. “Open the folder - it has all the documents, signed and sealed by myself and Vinylstep as a witness.”

 

“A witness to what?” Voltex asked, opening the folder and skimming the documents inside. “You… you can’t be serious here. You can’t just sign away control of an entire island to me!”

 

“I’m the mayor of BZ-Koro, and it is within my rights to appoint an interim leader in the case of my eventual demise.”

 

Voltex shared a glance with Canis, who shrugged. He turned back to Hero. “I already told you that I’m going mad. Why not give it to Burnmad?”

 

“Because you are the leader of those Matoran,” Hero said. “Also, I feel like I know you better… and something about you reminds me of White One, the few times I was ever ‘privileged’ to be in his presence.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“The two of you have a similar way of expressing yourselves, if you can believe it,” Hero said. “But he has clearly managed to brainwash half the universe… so if you can lead in a similar manner for the forces of good, then I believe we might be able to win this war.”

 

“This isn’t black and white, sir,” Canis said. “This is shades of gray.”

 

“I never said it wasn’t,” Hero said patiently. “Look, I know this seems soon, but I needed to make sure you understood what was going to happen as soon as possible.”

 

“Why?” Voltex asked.

 

“Because as the mayor of BZ-Koro, and one of the longest standing enemies of both Project Mayhem and the White Council, it is a wonder that I am still alive at all,” the Ta-Matoran said quietly. “I do not expect to outlive this week.”

 

“I thought Vinylstep was guarding you,” Voltex said, his eyes narrowing. “Why isn’t he here now?”

 

It seemed both he and Canis came to the conclusion at the same time - but they were far too late. As Canis yelled something along the lines of “get down” and Voltex realized that there was a window putting them in plain view of the street, a crack echoed from outside and Hero’s head jerked to the side as the Ta-Matoran collapsed.

 

Ding, dong.

 

“Hero!” Voltex yelled.

 

“We need to get out!” Canis said urgently, pulling him away before he could fling himself at the former mayor of BZ-Koro. “Come on! Thanks to him it’s now officially my duty to keep you alive, so let’s get away from here and stay alive.”

 

Click.

 

Something triggered in Voltex’s mind as he pulled away from Canis and stumbled after the Detective out into the lobby. “Wait… I heard the entrance open.”

 

“Yes you did,” said a voice next to him.

 

The Ba-Matoran turned just in time to see the fist speeding towards his face. The punch sent him sprawling over the lobby desk, as Canis dove over it to avoid the spear of ice that was fired at him. Pushing himself back to his feet, Voltex took aim with the Repulsor Arm and fired, before ducking underneath the blast of ice that was fired at him. He heard the blast dissipate against the wall and cursed.

 

“Voltex! The stairs!” Canis yelled.

 

He glanced over to the exit - it was blocked, coated thickly in ice. Without hesitating he turned and sprinted towards where the De-Matoran was waiting, leaping over a patch of ice that appeared on the floor and landing beside Canis, who pulled the door shut behind them.

 

“Blast it, fuse them together,” Canis said.

 

Voltex did so and the two Matoran jogged up the stairs, finding themselves in a hallway that seemed to wrap around the building.

 

“Just a meeting room and elevators on this floor,” Canis explained, “as well as another stairway going up.”

 

“Alright,” Voltex said, stopping in front of one of the elevators. “Uh… do you smell burning?”

 

Canis’s eyes went wide. “Oh no.”

 

“What?”

 

“Pyro,” was all the Detective said, grabbing Voltex and hauling him down to the floor as a firebomb hit the elevator doors behind them, melting a hole right through.

 

“You take the stairs, I’ll get up the elevator shaft,” Voltex said, as the sound of ice shattering came from below - no doubt the other attacker had frozen the doors. “We’ll take them at the rooftop.”

 

Canis nodded in agreement and sprinted away as a Matoran shrouded in a maroon cloak, a gas mask and oxygen tank visible, crashed through the window. The Pyro spared Voltex a glance before racing after the Detective; meanwhile, a blast of ice froze Voltex in place.

 

“Who are you?” he asked, facing the newcomer.

 

“Cryo,” the figure said, their voice garbled through the helmet they wore.

 

Voltex fired the Repulsor Arm, sending the Cryo flying backwards. He fired at his feet to destroy the ice holding him in place and then dove through the hole and into the elevator shaft, firing the Repulsor Arm to wall-jump up. Down below the Cryo followed, creating platforms of ice to step on as they followed after him.

 

He had made it up two floors when, in a burst of fire, Canis flew into the shaft, crashing into him and causing them both to nearly topple into the Cryo’s grasp before Voltex fired the Repulsor Arm blindly, blasting them back into the flaming third floor. As they landed Voltex punched the Pyro and dodged away from the axe, while Canis rolled away and fired several shots at the Cryo as they too climbed out of the shaft.

 

“Voltex, look out!” Canis shouted.

 

Spinning around, Voltex blasted himself away from the Cryo just in time, for they held a glittering katana of ice. He fired at the Cryo, but another firebomb from the Pyro was fired into his blast, causing an explosion that sent all four fighters crashing into the walls. Coughing in the smoke, Voltex fired a blast of blindly and heard a muffled curse from the Pyro. Spotting Canis through the smoke, he leaped over and hauled the Detective to his feet, drawing his katana and swinging it at the Cryo, who met it with their blade. Pushing the Cryo away, Voltex grabbed Canis and fired, blasting the Detective and himself away. As they landed, the building shook and the Pyro laughed.

 

“Why’s he laughing?” Voltex asked.

 

“I… the Pyro’s levelled buildings in the past…” Canis said, coughing. “But never one of this size….”

 

“We need higher ground.”

 

Voltex fired right at the floor beneath their feet, sending them flying into the ceiling, which they crashed through, speeding up through the floors. Down below the Pyro appeared to be using some sort of airblast from their flamethrower to propel themselves upward; a glance out the window revealed the Cryo ascending the side of the building.

 

As they reached the fifty-seventh floor, the Repulsor Arm sputtered and died out, dumping them both to the floor. His right arm burning and sparking, Voltex caught the gun Canis threw to him and fired it out the window several times, forcing the Cryo to throw up several walls of ice in defense and take a longer route back inside. As the Pyro rocketed up out of the whole in the floor, Voltex jumped away and tossed the gun back to Canis, rolling behind a desk as Canis fired upon the Pyro. The Cryo crashed through the wall in front of him and Voltex ducked underneath a spike of ice, swinging his sword up to meet the Cryo’s.

 

“Behind you!”

 

At Canis’s yell, Voltex rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the Pyro’s axe. He fired the Repulsor Arm and flew into the air, tossing his sword to Canis, who began duelling the Cryo as the building shook ominously once more. The Pyro advanced upon Voltex with the axe in hand, gripping it tightly. Voltex fired the Repulsor Arm and caught the Pyro in the chest, sending them crashing backwards.

 

Then the building began to collapse.

 

The Ba-Matoran ducked as his katana flew by his mask, jumping over the Pyro and tackling the Cryo, tossing them away before grabbing Canis and firing the Repulsor Arm, flying through the wall and across the street, crashing into an office.

 

“Voltex, it’s falling this way!” Canis yelled. “Voltex!”

 

Blindly, Voltex pushed himself to his feet once more and fired - and as they crashed through walls and were hit by debris, he did not stop until he faded into the darkness at last.

 

---

 

He was in a world of hurt. Something underneath him was hard.

 

Slowly, he blinked his eyes, coughing. The world was a haze of smoke and rubble. He could not tell what he was on top of, but he could feel something pinning his legs. A glance to his right revealed Canis, who was not moving - but something in front of him was. The Cryo stumbled out of the smoke, halting when they saw the two Matoran.

 

They fired at Canis; a single spike of ice impaled the Detective in the stomach.

 

Then they were gone.

 

The world faded away again.

To Be Continued.

 

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CHAPTER 6

 

---[burnmad]---

---[1 Year Ago]---

 

The bell above the door jingled lightly as the Ta-Matoran entered the White Wolf Pub, and although it was not as crowded as usual, he doubted that anyone other than he had heard it. He had asked the owner before about why they kept it; he had received a stern gaze in response, and resolved to never bring the topic up again.

 

He approached the center of the pub, where a massive square pillar of oak was surrounded on all sides by a wooden counter, manned by an assortment of Matoran. Burnmad approached one who was free.

 

“What can I get for you today, sir?” the server, a Matoran of Magnetism, asked.

 

“I was supposed to meet someone here,” Burnmad said.

 

“Name?”

 

“Turaga White Seven,” a voice said from behind Burnmad, prompting the Ta-Matoran to turn around and nearly smack said Turaga in the face by accident. “We will be needing a private room, please.”

 

“Of course sir,” the server said, bowing slightly and procuring a key from a compartment underneath the counter. “If you’ll follow me….”

 

“So, dear Fahler, how has work been as of late?” White Seven asked casually as the server led them down an empty hallway, away from the hustle and bustle of the main tavern.

 

“Um, uh,” the server stuttered, clearly overwhelmed by the fact that a member of the White Council had singled him out for conversation. “It’s uh, it’s been uh, it’s been good. Yeah, it’s been great. You know. The usual.”

 

“I would ask you to enlighten me, but unfortunately it appears that our conversation is over,” White Seven said as they came to a halt outside one of the private rooms. “This will do very nicely, Fahler - I do thank you. You shall receive a large tip from me on my way out.”

 

“Oh, uh, that’s very kind of you s-sir, b-but you really don’t need to,” Fahler stammered.

 

“I insist!” White Seven said loudly, clapping his hands together. “You should be able to see the funds in your account tonight! Now I must ask you to leave us be; Burnmad and I need to have a very important discussion privately. Thank you.”

 

The server nodded rapidly, bowed once more, and then scurried away. As he did, White Seven turned to Burnmad and smiled thinly, waving him into the room. Fighting back both the anger and fear he felt, Burnmad stepped inside, his instincts screaming at him not to. He took a  seat in the lone chair in the room, allowing White Seven to sit upon the bed. Although he - like the other leaders of Metru-Nui - went by the title of “Turaga”, White Seven seemed to be in suspiciously good shape - almost as if he were a Matoran that had undergone significant upgrades.

 

Whatever the story was, Burnmad was sure it was not pretty.

 

“I do hope he enjoys the extra money before he perishes,” White Seven said thoughtfully, glancing around the room. “Unfortunately, our meeting tonight is so secret that no one can know that we were here - Fahler shall have to be dealt with. But let us move on; I did not summon you here tonight to talk about some foolish server. I summoned you here to talk about… well, you.”

 

Uh oh, Burnmad thought. Remain calm.

 

“If this is about those concerns regarding the fight - or lack of it - between Shadowhawk and Voltex the other day, I assure you sir, we’re looking into it,” Burnmad said. “We’re doing our best to determine if Shadowhawk made any illegal plays or if it was a fair game.”

 

The booming laugh that White Seven let out caused Burnmad to flinch, and the Ta-Matoran silently cursed himself as the laugh faded into chuckles until finally, White Seven spoke again. “No, this has nothing to do with that battle. Although it does have to do with Bionifight… mostly in that we would like you to step down.”

 

“Why?” Burnmad asked.

 

Maybe there was a way he could get out of this - he needed to keep Bionifight alive and under his watch. He was all the late Fighty had left, and he needed to see the silver clad Matoran’s vision through until the end.

 

“It’s a tough thing to explain,” White Seven said, “so forgive me if it seems convoluted. We do not want you to step down officially… it’s more that we want you to vanish from the public eye entirely. To disappear. We will help you with this.”

 

“Pardon me for asking, but could you actually explain the reasons?”

 

“We want you to work for us,” White Seven explained, leaning forward. “We want you to lead a small, covert team of five other Matoran as a ‘special forces’, so to speak; we have many enemies, and the Vahki and Toa that we have are too conspicuous to infiltrate them. But Matoran, on the other hand… well, our greatest enemies and allies alike are Matoran. It would be the job of your team to infiltrate our enemies, and help us put them in a position to be detained.”

 

Oh, no. There was no possible way he could refuse this. The fact that the White Council somehow did not know about his history with the Resistance was already breaking the rules with luck. Refusing would earn him a prison sentence at best and execution at worst.

 

“You want me to lead them? Why me?”

 

“Because you have been in charge of Bionifight for quite some time now,” White Seven replied, sitting straight again. “None of our other candidates for the team have experiences leading, and we need to know that we can trust whomever we appoint to the position to do it well and to do it right. So what do you say?”

 

Burnmad pretended to think it over for a moment, knowing full-well that there was no way he could refuse. Fate had backed him into a corner.

 

“I suppose I can give it a shot,” he said. “When do I start?”

 

“You start now,” White Seven said, handing him a small metal disk. “Use this to teleport into the Coliseum. Officially, you have now gone missing - and you will not be found.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I have a visit to make to the bank,” White Seven said, “as well as a poor Matoran named Fahler to attend to.”

 

---

 

Over the next few days, Burnmad adjusted to the fact that he technically had ceased to exist. He watched as the news of his disappearance spread like wildfire, and the organizers of Bionifight that had once worked underneath him scrambled to find a new Matoran to take his place (an organizer of the Day Run called Portalfig eventually volunteered). He was educated by White Seven and White Nine on the various “ins and outs” regarding his new job, and at the end of the first week, he began interviewing each of his fellow special ops Matoran one by one.

 

The White Council had requested that the rest of the team not ever discover the identities of those on the team besides him; for the moment, Burnmad was happy to oblige. But when the final member of the team walked through the door and sat down, Burnmad found himself speechless… as did the other Matoran.

 

It was the other Matoran who gathered his wits first.

 

“What are you doing here?” Voltex asked. “I signed up to get away from things I knew.”

 

“You signed up of your own free will? When?” Burnmad asked.

 

“White One visited me in the hospital after I lost,” Voltex said. “Offered me a chance to escape the beatdown and humiliation I was about to receive from the public - I took it. I figured it was time to start trying something else out. Something where I’m less likely to have my face plastered on billboards.”

 

“I was just told to disappear. I’m supposed to act as if I don’t exist outside the Coliseum,” Burnmad muttered. “You still get to go out in public?”

 

“Yeah, not that I do it much anyway,” Voltex said. “The few times I have, I’ve gotten smothered. This noob JiMing keeps bothering me about re-joining Bionifight and it’s getting hard to avoid him. But yeah - you’re the only one that stays here, you know. The rest of us have to go out into the world and interact. That’s part of how infiltration works. Although right now since I’m not on a mission I’ve been living in an alley in Ta-Metru.”

 

“...you’re homeless.”

 

Voltex shrugged. “Everyone expects to find me hiding out in some apartment. Instead, I’m hiding in a box in an alley.”

 

“Well… anyway, do you know what you’re doing?” Burnmad asked. “Because none of the others did….”

 

“White One filled me in on all the redundant details,” Voltex said. “Am I free to go?”

 

“I guess so,” Burnmad said. “I’ll call if I need you.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Voltex muttered, standing. “See you around… well, I guess not. Have fun not actually existing anymore, whatever that means.”

 

---[Former White Thirteen]---

---[1 Year Ago]---

 

Ever since that day three years ago, running was all that he had known. White One, so certain that he would perish, had forgotten his skill with technology; it had barely taken him three days to use the parts from his teleporter pad to build a new one that would take him somewhere else. Unfortunately, when he appeared in the middle of the shipyards in Stelt, news of his sudden showing had spread throughout the known universe; within a week the White Council had mobilized to hunt him down using whatever forces necessary.

 

That brought him to where he was now - he had joined the Dark Hunters under the codename of “Sidian”, and he was paying for it now. When a slip up had caused the Shadowed One to realize that he was harboring a fugitive on the run from the White Council, the Dark Hunter leader had exiled him immediately and ordered his execution. The Av-Matoran had fled, and the Shadowed One had dispatched two agents to find him and kill him.

 

The first, Silence, was a deadly foe. He had been on a mission with Silence once before; the Dark Hunter could deaden all sound around him in a field of up to three feet, making him a perfect assassin… and a nightmare to flee from. The second was another Matoran like himself, and one of the few Dark Hunters to go by their real name - a De-Matoran by the name of Vinylstep. He suspected that this particular assignment was a test; Vinylstep was notorious for his ideals clashing with those of the Shadowed One, and it was a miracle that the Matoran had not gotten himself killed yet.

 

Coming to a halt at the top of the rocky cliffs where the island of Odina ended with a sudden plunge into the sea below and kneeled, grabbing the prototype weapon he had stolen from where it was attached at his hip and fiddling with it. Activating what he liked to call its “boomerang capabilities” (which would cause the weapon to return to him if disarmed), the former White Thirteen then activated the weapon, which drew upon his powers as an advanced Av-Matoran to create a blade out of solid light which erupted from the hilt he held. The light glowed a soft blue, and if the blueprints had been correct, it could cut through most materials with ease.

 

The steady hum of the blade reassured him, and he took a moment to breathe in deeply before he felt something shift. Standing to his feet, he gazed at his surroundings, trying to figure out what was wrong. He took a step back before stopping, a feeling of dread filling him.

 

He could not hear his blade.

 

With a yell that made no sense, the former White Thirteen dove to the side, rolling back to his feet and swinging the light sword at the Dark Hunter Silence, slicing through the freeze disk that the Dark Hunter fired at him. Running forward, he cut the double-edged blade off of Silence’s right arm, kicking the Dark Hunter in the chest and sending him tumbling backwards. He moved to gain an advantage but instead had to dodge to the side, cursing as several razor sharp metal disks cut his arms and legs as they flew past.

 

Vinylstep had arrived.

 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” the Av-Matoran quipped, slicing several other disks with his light sword. “Come closer!”

 

The De-Matoran did not reply, instead falling back and vanishing behind a series of large rocks. He had no time to try and find him; he turned just in time to duck underneath another freeze disk fired by Silence. He lunged forward and swung the light sword in an arc, cutting the double edged blade off of Silence’s left arm. The Dark Hunter fell back, firing a freezing disk that caught the Av-Matoran in the knee. The Av-Matoran cursed and stumbled backward, barely managing to maintain his balance. Another disk cut through his mask and into his face and he hobbled away, ducking under another disk.

 

“Come out and face me!” He called, attempting to draw the two Dark Hunters out.

 

He received a glancing blow to the shoulder from another disk for his troubles and a clawed hand closing around his throat from behind. Briefly panicking due to the sudden lack of air supply, he quickly came to his senses and swung the light sword behind him; he felt it cut through something before the hand released him and he staggered, collapsing onto the ground thanks to his frozen leg. He turned frantically, swinging the light sword wildly, only to watch two halves of Silence fall off the cliff in two different directions.

 

Handy, he thought.

 

“I guess you win,” the voice of Vinyl said from somewhere behind him. “Good on you.”

 

The Av-Matoran pushed himself to his feet, grunting with effort. He turned to face the De-Matoran. “What do you mean, I win? You’re still here.”

 

“Yes, but I don’t care about seeing you dead,” Vinylstep said, shrugging. “I’ll tell him that you killed Silence before I killed you. Both of you fell off the cliff and your bodies couldn’t be found. It’s an unfortunate fate, but at least you’re gone.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” the De-Matoran replied, turning away. “And the White Council is no good at all… so they are my enemy. Which means you are not.”

 

The De-Matoran left the Av-Matoran standing alone there at the edge of the cliff to ponder what he had said. He stood there for a long time, staring across the island - until suddenly with a flash of light, a familiar face appeared and grabbed him. In another flash of light, the world disappeared.

 

---

 

He pushed White Seven away as they reappeared in what the Av-Matoran guessed was the Coliseum. Turaga White Two and White Five were also present, although the others seemed to be taking the day off… or they were busy with other things.

 

Scowling, he said, “what do you want?”

 

“We’ve found you at last,” White Two said, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “White One will be so pleased. You frustrated us with your little teleporter stunt, you know. We’ve been trying to get you to visit us ever since.”

 

“Yeah, I wonder why I never showed up,” the Av-MAtoran muttered.

 

“We have an offer to make,” White Five said. “An offer to rejoin the White Council. One last chance to redeem yourself.”

 

“No way,” he spat.

 

“Thirteen, come on-” White Seven started.

 

“No,” the Av-Matoran said, whirling on his former friend. “No - my name is Xaron. Just as yours is Kar, and White Two is Rexus, and Five is Valkr. Enough with the numbers!”

 

“We have no names!” White Five snarled. “Not anymore! We are the White Council! One through twelve!”

 

“Really? This is what you’ve become?” Xaron asked, his voice laced with disappointment. “The twelve of us used to be such close friends in Karda-Nui before White One - whatever his real name is - came along. Don’t you remember when we journeyed on our own to Stelt? Or when we visited Voya-Nui in secret?”

 

“I remember nothing of those times,” White Five spat. “I was not the same Matoran that I am today.”

 

“No, I guess you’re not,” Xaron said, sighing. “Look at yourselves. We went on a few adventures, became stars to the others in Karda-Nui, and then when White One arrived, we left them and turned our backs on our universe for the sake of greed and power. We betrayed ourselves. Why can’t any of you seem to realize that?”

 

“Thirteen, please-” White Seven started.

 

“My name is XARON!” Xaron yelled, jabbing a finger at his former friend. “SAY IT!

 

The three enhanced Av-Matoran glared at him; White Seven remained silent.

 

“Say my name,” he ordered quietly. “Do it.”

 

“Xaron,” White Seven whispered, turning away.

 

“This is your final chance,” White Two said, stepping forward. “Re-join our ranks.”

 

“Never,” Xaron snarled. “You’ll have to kill me.”

 

“We shall do that in time,” White Two said, shrugging. “Until then… enjoy your time in this city while it lasts. Consider yourself imprisoned in Metru-Nui.”

 

The room vanished in a flash of light.

 

---[Voltex]---

---[Present Day]---

 

How many times had he woken up inside a hospital in the past week? He could no longer remember. He was losing track.

 

He was losing track of a lot of things.

 

The sound of a door swinging open on his right caused him to flinch, and he scowled as Taka Nuvia stepped into the room. The Av-Matoran was frowning, staring at some sort of schematics (or perhaps she too was losing count of how many times he had been in here).

 

“You’re an Av-Matoran,” he said, his mouth running several steps faster than his head.

 

“Yes,” Taka Nuvia said slowly. “I hope you’re not about to jump up and try to get yourself killed again, because you’re wasting my healing spheres, and I only brought so many of them with me.”

 

“I need your help,” Voltex said. “Where’s Canis?”

 

“Why don’t you look to your left?” she suggested.

 

He complied and glanced over, finally noticing the second bed in the room. Canis’s body was mostly covered by a blanket, although his mask was visible.

 

“He wasn’t in good shape when we found you,” Taka Nuvia said. “Well, both of you were in rough shape, but he took a chunk of ice to the chest. You, on the other hand….”

 

“I’m trying to fix it,” Voltex said. “And that’s why I need your help. I need to talk to Ehks immediately.”

 

Not wanting to deal with any protests, Voltex jumped out of his bed and immediately collapsed onto Taka Nuvia upon landing; the Av-Matoran grunted as she caught him and held him up.

 

“Idiot!” she muttered, holding him steady until he could stand on his own. “Stop over exerting yourself!”

 

Voltex ignored her, stepping out the door with wobbly legs. Leaving a cursing Taka Nuvia to continue caring for Canis, the Ba-Matoran limped down the hall. He was just passing the room where Ehks had previously been staying when he nearly collided with Portalfig - or rather, the Onu-Matoran nearly collided with him.

 

“Voltex!” Portalfig exclaimed, seeming out of breath. “Glad I caught you. I need to give you this.”

 

“What is it?” Voltex asked, as Portalfig handed him an envelope.

 

“A letter,” the Onu-Matoran answered. “It’s from Hero. He gave it to me before you left; said it was just in case he didn’t make it back. It’s like he knew he was going to die….”

 

“I have a feeling that he did,” Voltex said, staring at the parchment in his hands. “He had come to terms with his fate; I’m sure he could have saved himself if he’d wanted to. But if I understood him correctly, he felt taking down the White Council was more important.”

 

“Everyone wants to take down the White Council,” Portalfig sighed.

 

“You don’t?”

 

“I think we should focus on Xaeraz and Project Mayhem first,” the Onu-Matoran said. “Anyway, I gotta get going - Lhikevikk wants to make sure that TBK is, you know, still alive.”

 

“That’s fine. Any idea where Ehks is?”

 

“He’s just down the hall, actually. Shouldn’t miss him.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Voltex watched as Portalfig hurried on his way before ripping open the envelope and unfolding the paper within. His mind felt like slush.

 

Voltex,

 

Yes, this is one of THOSE notes. Which means if you’re reading it, I’m dead. Cliche, I know, but I had to write this just in case. I know how you are right now and I have to be realistic; I will prioritize what I tell you tonight. I don’t have much time to write this, so I’ll just share the most important fact with you.

 

It is located in the parliament buildings, in the basement. Center of the city.

 

Good luck.

 

-Hero

 

Maybe there was hope for him after all.

 

---

 

“Oh… it’s you,” Ehks said, opening the door for him nonetheless.

 

“We need to get to the center of the city,” Voltex said, stepping inside and glancing around at the various in-progress projects strewn throughout the room. “Wait, what’s all this?”

 

“Stuff I’ve been working on,” Ehks said shortly. “What about the center of the city?”

 

“That’s where the machine is located,” the Ba-Matoran said. “The one that can save me.”

 

“Oh yeah, about that…” Ehks said, returning to his worktable and searching through the various bits and pieces before pulling out a small, glowing white crystal that fit neatly into his palm and handing it to Voltex. “Take this.”

 

“Don’t be cryptic,” Voltex snapped. “What is it?”

 

“I created it. It’s a specially modified lightstone. While it won’t permanently help you, as long as it’s touching you, your mind should remain clear,” the Av-Matoran explained. “It’ll prevent Luroka’s corruption from driving you mad and theoretically stop any other side effects. How do you feel?”

 

“...great, actually,” the Ba-Matoran said, surprised. “Everything feels great.”

 

Great was an understatement - it felt amazing, holding the crystal in his hand. Everything was clearer, much like when he had seen his own blood days before. As an experiment, he tossed the crystal into the air and immediately staggered under the weight of shadows. With a cry, he shut his eyes tightly, and he nearly dropped the crystal as it fell back into his hand.

 

“Hold onto it,” Ehks warned. “If you start going back and forth, I can’t predict what it’ll do to your mental state, but I assume nothing good.”

 

“Right,” Voltex said, nodding and tucking the crystal inside his armor, turning to the door. “Let’s go and get-”

 

The door slammed open to reveal both Pulse and RG, panting and out of breath. The electric blue Matoran managed to catch his breath first.

 

“We’ve been looking for you,” he said. “But… uh… are we interrupting something?”

 

“No, we’d just finished planning,” Voltex said. “Actually, we could use some help - I’m bringing you two with us.”

 

“Where?” Pulse wheezed.

 

“To gather Meta and Taka Nuvia,” the Ba-Matoran replied. “We need to get to the center of the city and save me from going insane.”

 

“That might be a problem,” Pulse muttered.

 

“Why?” Ehks asked. “What’s happening?”

 

“It’s Burnmad,” RG said. “He’s about to have Meta lynched.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Thinks he’s in league with the White Council,” Pulse muttered. “Burnmad’s insisting that he saw the letters ‘WC’ on Meta’s shoulder like they were with Phantom Terror….”

 

“Then we need to hurry,” Voltex said grimly. “Let’s move out.”

To Be Continued.

 

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CHAPTER 7

 

---[burnmad]---

---[Present Day]---

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’m certain,” Vinylstep said.

 

Burnmad looked away, still hesitating - this was second hand information. How did he know he could trust Vinylstep? Or, for that matter, how could he trust Hero? He was no longer sure of anything.

 

“Voltex trusts us,” the De-Matoran added. “As does Ehks. We both know that they’re the only ones equal to you in power.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“On the contrary, it means a lot,” Vinylstep said drily. “Get it into your head - I’m on your side. Hero was planning to wage war on the White Council as soon as possible. Take a look at the Matoran surrounding you, Burnmad. Several of them are working for the White Council, and they want you and your allies dead. Who supports the White Council? Who would you least suspect?”

 

“How do I know they’re working for the White Council?”

 

“I don’t think I need to explain that to you, of all Matoran. So who would you never suspect?”

 

“Someone close to us,” Burnmad whispered. “Someone we wouldn’t think to not trust.”

 

Vinylstep nodded, seeming satisfied. “You know what to do, then….”

 

“I do.”

 

---

 

“What are you thinking right now?” Squishy asked quietly from where he sat at the table, staring at the wall where Burnmad had scribbled the names of every Matoran he had met on BZ-Koro so far.

 

“Narrowing my list down,” the Ta-Matoran answered, crossing out the names of both Voltex and Vinylstep. “I know that I can trust certain Matoran, which in turn leads me to those that I can’t trust.”

 

He crossed off Squishy, himself, Ehks and Hero.

 

“So who are you thinking about right now?” the Matoran of Plantlife asked.

 

“It’s gotta be either Meta, Xonar, or Baltarc,” Burnmad said, turning to face Squishy. “What do you think?”

 

“I doubt Xonar would try to kill anybody, but I could see Meta doing it, if for the wrong reasons,” Squishy said slowly, considering it carefully. “As for Baltarc… well, he’s quiet, I’ll say that. I don’t know much about him; it’s hard to say either way with him.”

 

“Then let’s go hunt down the Meta,” Burnmad decided. “Sorry Voltex… your number one fan is done.”

 

Beckoning to Squishy, he kicked the door open and strode out into the lobby, where almost all of the Matoran save a few were gathered. Clearing his throat, he halted with all eyes on him and pointed to Meta, who was seated next to Lhikevikk and Shockwave.

 

“You’re working for the White Council,” Burnmad announced. “Care to defend yourself?”

 

“Me?” Meta asked, looking confused. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You killed Hero,” Burnmad said. “Or maybe PT wasn’t lying to us and it was you who killed Locke… regardless, I know that you’re working for the White Council, Meta. I know that they hired you to wipe us off the map.”

 

“Prove it!” Meta snapped, standing to his feet and stalking over. “Show us proof!”

 

“The proof is on your shoulder,” Burnmad said quietly. “Right underneath your armor. Just like with Phantom Terror.”

 

In the blink of an eye, the Av-Matoran had sprinted halfway to the exit. With a yell, Lhikevikk barreled across the room and tackled Meta to the floor, wrestling the Av-Matoran until he held both of Meta’s arms behind his back and was kneeling atop him. Burnmad turned to TBK, who had been watching silently.

 

“Would you like to do the honor of revealing Meta’s loyalties once and for all?” Burnmad asked the Po-Matoran.

 

TBK did not verbally respond, but he did step forward, approaching Meta slowly. Despite the fact that Burnmad knew there had to be others loyal to the White Council in the room, none stepped forward to help Meta - perhaps they realized that the rest would swat them down like flies.

 

The Po-Matoran crouched down next to Meta, who continued to struggle to no avail, trapped in Lhikevikk’s sturdy grip. With a grim smile, TBK gripped the armor covering Meta’s left shoulder and pulled hard, ripping it off and revealing the letters “WC” in stark white underneath.

 

“That’s what we’re looking for,” Burnmad said. “All in favor of execution?”

 

Almost every hand in the room went up - other than Meta, Burnmad noted that Lhikevikk, Portalfig, and TBK himself did not raise their hands. He would have to check in with them later - but for now, he had a traitor to execute.

 

“Someone pass me a gun,” he ordered, striding forward.

 

Shockwave handed him one, and Burnmad stood beside the still struggling Meta, aiming the gun at the Av-Matoran’s head.

 

“WAIT! BURNMAD, NO!” someone yelled.

 

Too late.

 

BANG.

 

Someone groaned and fell to the floor in his peripheral view - Burnmad glanced over to see Ehks, who had collapsed to his knees.

 

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Ehks whispered.

 

“We just executed a servant of the White Council,” Burnmad said, as Lhikevikk stood.

 

Voltex sprinted into view, skidding to a halt beside Ehks and nearly toppling over him. The Ba-Matoran glanced around, confused. “What’s going on?”

 

“Voltex,” Ehks started, standing and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s-”

 

It was too late - the Ba-Matoran had noticed Meta’s body.

 

“You killed Meta,” he said, his voice empty of emotion.

 

“He was serving the White Council,” Burnmad replied. “We had to. We can’t take any chances.”

 

“I-” Voltex faltered, shaking. “He was my last chance….”

 

“Your last chance for what?” Burnmad asked. “Surely our hopes weren’t riding on someone on the other side.”

 

“He was my only chance to save myself,” Voltex explained shakily, turning away to leave, “and now that’s gone.”

 

---[Voltex]---

---[6 Months Ago]---

 

He felt uncomfortable inside the stark white hallways of the Coliseum, which were a direct contrast to his black and purple armor. Although he would never admit it, he had become rather comfortable with the various abandoned buildings that he had sheltered inside ever since joining the White Council’s secret task force. When he was alone, he could pretend that the public had given up on pestering him to return to Bionifight. He could ignore the stressful nature of his existence as a spy, as dangerous as it was.

 

When he was in the Coliseum, he was reminded of everything that had ever gone wrong.

 

The Ba-Matoran came to a stop at the end of the hall, waiting at a door that was almost indistinguishable from the walls. There he stood for thirty seconds until there was a small ding and the door slid open with a hiss, allowing him inside.

 

“Welcome, Voltex,” said White One, who was seated beside White Four on the opposite side of the lone table in the room. He gestured towards the chair nearest to Voltex. “Please, take a seat.”

 

“Yes sir,” Voltex said, doing as ordered. “I don’t have long… Manducus might suspect something if I vanish for an hour or more.”

 

“That is fine,” White One said, waving the issue away. “We shall not need that much time.”

 

“Very well.”

 

“We called you in to discuss the arrest of Kaiser Manducus,” White Four explained. “We wish for it to take place tomorrow evening.”

 

“So soon?” Voltex asked, surprised. “I thought there would be a little more time to prepare, with all due respect.”

 

“We are accelerating our plans,” White One said curtly. “We need Manducus imprisoned by the end of the week; the sooner the better. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good,” White One said, nodding with approval. “You shall request to meet Manducus privately tomorrow evening to discuss reworking the details of your contract with him. When you are there, you shall arrest him - we will provide you with a special set of cuffs for the job. The rest of the equipment necessary will be upon you to find. We will have two Toa on standby ready to take him to his new ‘home’; you must simply make sure he is already subdued.”

 

“Yes sir,” the Ba-Matoran said.

 

“Good…” White One muttered, holding his hand out to White Four, who gave him several pieces of paper. “We called you in for another reason as well… something far more important than Manducus, although it does hinge on the success of your arrest.”

 

“What is it?” Voltex asked.

 

“We have designated it as ‘Scenario Alpha’,” White One replied, handing him the papers. “It is one of our master plans, one that we have been working on for several years in an effort to protect this city from our enemies. We wish to remove them all in one fell swoop; but we require your help with this.”

 

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” Voltex said, skimming the notes he had been given. “What can I do?”

 

“You can do many things,” White Four answered. “The problem with us being in charge of this city is that, inevitably, we become disconnected from it. Our time is consumed with keeping it in working order; making sure the city is safe, and the population happy. But as a result, we are unable to keep a connection built with all but a few. You, on the other hand, are simply a citizen employed by us.”

 

“In essence,” White One interrupted, “you shall be an advisor for us; any suggestions you give shall be considered and most likely integrated into the final plan. We would expect you to focus on this; you will not receive any major integration jobs until this is finished. Your current line of work is admittedly dangerous - this would provide you with a six month reprieve.”

 

“Sure, I can do it,” Voltex said, shrugging. “I’ll glance over them once the arrest is made, if you don’t mind - I want to make sure the arrest goes perfectly.”

 

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” White One said. “You are dismissed - but watch out for Xaeraz. His activity is beginning to pick up again, and we still have no way of predicting where he’ll show up next.”

 

“I will,” Voltex promised, standing to leave. “Thank you.”

 

“Oh no, Voltex… thank you,” White One said, smiling.

 

---[Agent 64]---

---[Present Day]---

 

[TRANSMISSION FROM WHITE COUNCIL]

[MODIFYING PRIORITY TARGETS. TARGET ONE REMAINS. TARGET TWO NO LONGER REQUIRED. LEADER OF PROJECT MAYHEM DISCOVERED. FIND AND ELIMINATE IMMEDIATELY. PICTURE ENCLOSED.]

 

The message had been broadcast to her several hours earlier. She did not know (or care) why her second target had changed, outside of acknowledging that someone had been granted a reprieve by the White Council, even if it meant the demise of another. So here she was, holding a gun to the back of a head that her helmet’s display registered as Xaeraz.

 

“Let’s not be hasty now,” the Fe-Matoran said slowly. “I have no idea who you are. Perhaps you do not want me dead?”

 

“I think you are,” she replied, her voice being distorted by her helmet’s voice changer.

 

Xaeraz chuckled. “If you have been sent to execute the leader of Project Mayhem, my dear Agent 64, I’m afraid that you are sadly mistaken. They would never allow one such as me to run the show.”

 

She ignored the fact that he had somehow aquired her identity - or as much of her identity as anyone knew. “My intel says otherwise.”

 

“Your intel is wrong!” Xaeraz snarled. “I know who you work for! And I’m willing to offer you a deal before the forces Tyler commands blow this building to the sky. A way out.”

 

“What is this deal?”

 

“We have acquired many of the White Council’s plans,” Xaeraz said. “We know that Scenario Beta is active right now, and that Scenario Gamma - the signal - is nearing completion. Scenario Delta is, as it always has been, active up above; although I will admit I have kept that particular plan of the Council’s to myself. It will provide me with a bit of an edge, I think.”

 

It seemed the White Council had lost far more than they let on. Unsurprising. Of course, this altered her planned course of action very little; she had always intended to join Project Mayhem, after all.

 

“I wish to join Project Mayhem,” she said. “But I require one thing….”

 

“And what is that?” Xaeraz asked, examining a bloodstain on the wall.

 

“You must allow me to execute the De-Matoran Vinylstep and the Ba-Matoran Voltex.”

 

---[Voltex]---

---[Present Day]---

 

“Voltex?”

 

The Ba-Matoran glanced up from where he was crouched beside a window overlooking BZ-Koro to see the Po-Matoran TBK standing in the doorway. Sighing, he beckoned TBK in, granting him entry. The Po-Matoran comic maker tentatively stepped inside.

 

“Ehks says that you shouldn’t give up too soon; he and Taka Nuvia were speaking with Canis earlier, and Canis mentioned that they had an operative of Project Mayhem in prison. His name is Valendale. Canis suspects that he’s holding onto valuable information. He might be able to lead you to the leader of the group.”

 

“Why does it matter?”

 

“Because whether you can get to that permanent cure machine or not, you can’t give up,” TBK said. “You have a lightstone that’s allowing you to be the real you - and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from you since we met, Voltex, it’s that you never give up. It’s part of what makes you so easy to follow. And I know that, for all your sulking right now, that’s still true. You haven’t given up. But you also can’t take the time to mourn about your imperfections. You just need to deal with them.”

 

“You know, if that came from most Matoran, I’d probably punch them,” Voltex said.

 

“Good thing I’m not most Matoran,” TBK said. “So, are you coming?”

 

“You bet I am,” Voltex said.

 

“Good,” TBK replied, gesturing to the door, “because your team is waiting.”

 

He turned around to see Taka Nuvia, Pulse, RG and Officer Kante waiting outside in the hall. With a small smile, the Ba-Matoran stood.

 

“Let’s get going,” he said.

 

“Where to first?” RG asked.

 

“We have a prison to check,” Voltex said, before turning to Kante. “You look like you have something to say.”

 

“I have information that is pertinent to you and you alone, sir,” the Officer said. “I would advise we speak and strategize about it in private before making it public.”

 

“Very well,” Voltex replied. “You can fill me in on the way - let’s head out.”

 

---

 

Voltex re-checked his gun and turned to the helmeted Ko-Matoran beside him. “Are you sure he’s in there?”

 

“Positive,” Kante said, “considering I just remote deactivated a mine buried underneath the doorstep.”

 

“Well, he’s dedicated, I’ll give him that,” Voltex muttered. “Any other traps?”

 

“None that I can tell.”

 

“And you’re sure the others won’t be able to find us? I don’t want any of them walking in on me, well, you know… murdering what they might think at first glance is an innocent Matoran,” Voltex said.

 

“They won’t be able to find us, but we’ll be able to find them,” Kante replied. “Don’t worry, sir - I’ve been personally hunting him down on the orders of Canis since before the conference. He’d managed to link him to both Xaeraz and the White Council thanks to evidence from Vinyl.”

 

Voltex nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go then.”

 

Leading the way up the walkway, Voltex carefully stepped onto the doorstep, letting out a sigh of relief when he was not blown sky-high. He kicked open the door and entered the small house, experimentally flicking the nearest light switch. He was not surprised when it did nothing.

 

“I’ll go first,” Kante whispered from behind him. “Just in case there are any traps.”

 

“So that you die and I don’t?”

 

“No,” the Ko-Matoran officer said, stepping in front of him. “So that if there are any traps, I can warn you before you’ve already hit them.”

 

“What a gentleman.”

 

Together the two of them slowly swept through the entirety of the house, until predictably, only the basement was left. A little disappointed that one of his greatest foes would back himself into a corner like this, Voltex started down the stairwell.

 

“Wait up,” Kante hissed. “I’m supposed to go first-”

 

A faint hiss. Voltex threw himself to the floor, groaning as he smacked his head on the edge of the stairs. He glanced up and saw a multitude of arrows being fired from both walls, impaling themselves on the other side.

 

That was a close one, he thought.

 

“Good thing we ducked,” he said aloud, standing up once the arrows had stopped. “Eh, Kante? Kante?”

 

As he turned, Voltex realized that he should have expected this outcome. The Ko-Matoran had become a wall decoration; there were so many arrows pinning him to the side of the stairwell that Voltex could not even count them – but it was obvious that the officer was dead. The only thing that had not been touched was Kante’s helmet.

 

I suppose it’ll come in handy,Voltex thought.

 

The Ba-Matoran unlocked the helmet and pulled it off of Kante’s head, revealing a Kanohi Hau. Sparing the Ko-Matoran one final glance, Voltex put the helmet on and locked it into place, standing still to keep himself oriented as the helmet’s display activated.

 

Once he was used to the display, Voltex jumped the last few steps and landed in front of the door, kicking it open and pointing the gun straight ahead. As he entered the room, however, he faltered – Sumiki was seated at an oaken desk, facing him, and totally unarmed.

 

“Welcome to my final resting place,” the former CEO of Hat Enterprises said, opening his arms. “Why don’t you take that helmet off? I’d like to see the face of my killer before I die.”

 

“You know who I am,” Voltex said.

 

“Perhaps,” Sumiki said, shrugging. “But don’t I get one last wish?”

 

Voltex kicked the door shut behind him, pulling the helmet off and dropping it to the floor. Sumiki smiled, appearing satisfied, and sat back in his chair.

 

“So this is what you’ve become,” Voltex said, glancing around. “The great CEO of Hat Enterprises, who managed to cheat Xaeraz and become the richest Matoran in Metru-Nui, reduced to an office chair and a desk inside a basement in BZ-Koro, waiting for his demise.”

 

“I am not perfect, nor am I some sort of god,” Sumiki said, shrugging. “I made mistakes and they have landed me here. I have made peace with my incumbent death, Voltex – but have you?”

 

“It’s you who’s dying tonight, not me.”

 

“Oh, we can both agree on that,” Sumiki replied. “But will you be ready to accept your fate when it comes? Do you even know what you are dealing with?”

 

Voltex glared at him. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

 

“No? Enlighten me.”

 

“I’m fighting Xaeraz and Project Mayhem,” Voltex spat. “I’m fighting you, the White Council, the Cryo and the Pyro. I’m fighting against myself, and even with this special lightstone that Ehks made, I’m still going mad.”

 

“Not all of them must be your enemy,” Sumiki said quietly. “You know, the whole time I was working with Xaeraz, I was secretly working for the White Council as well. That was where I met Luroka, and how I introduced the Makuta to Xaeraz. That is the only reason I was never arrested as well. But they clearly felt that I was a threat, and once I escaped the conference, I realized... that to the White Council, everyone except for themselves are merely tools. But by then, I had already long spoiled my chances with Xaeraz. So I came here, and I waited for one of you to arrive. I’m surprised none of my traps harmed you, however.”

 

“The arrows took out Kante,” Voltex said, “but that stuff would never kill me.”

 

“I suppose not,” Sumiki said wearily. “I would never expect you or Xaeraz to fall to a trap such as that. You’re both too... determined.”

 

“Where’s Luroka?”

 

“Oh, Xaeraz has already killed him,” Sumiki chuckled. “That Makuta was foolish. He refused to believe that the White Council wanted him dead, and he refused to believe that they and Xaeraz had the means necessary to destroy him... he went to meet with Xaeraz and never returned.”

 

Silence fell, and both Matoran remained that way for several minutes before Sumiki spoke again. “Well? Are you going to kill me?”

 

“You don’t seem upset.”

 

“My reaction confuses you.”

 

“A little.”

 

The Fe-Matoran shrugged. “I know exactly where I am headed, Voltex, which is more than most beings can say when they die. And because I know where I’m going, I also know that I stand a better chance of surviving it. And if I can survive it... well, then perhaps we shall meet again.”

 

“We’re still enemies.”

 

“For now,” Sumiki said. “But I have a feeling that in the long run, we’ll be allies.”

 

Voltex was silent for a long time before he replied, “you know, back during the conference, I was trying to stay ahead of you. Predict every move you made, and all that sort of stuff.”

 

“How did that go for you?”

 

“Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t,” the Ba-Matoran said. “So I told myself, ‘stop trying to predict Sumiki, because he’s unpredictable’. And you know, after that, we won.”

 

“And?” Sumiki prompted.

 

“And I had this whole conversation in my head, how it would go,” Voltex continued. “I tried to predict you again and I failed.”

 

“Well, I do like to keep up tradition,” Sumiki said, chuckling.

 

“I don’t know what to think,” Voltex admitted.

 

“Then don’t think at all,” Sumiki said, turning to him. “Do you want to know something?”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m just like you and Xaeraz,” the Fe-Matoran said. “I’m absolutely insane. But you know how I deal with it? How I’ve managed to avoid mindlessly rampaging through the streets, how I have avoided killing everyone I meet?”

 

“How?”

 

“I dream of farm animals,” the former CEO said. “And look where it got me. I appear more sane than you, and even if you’re about to kill me, I know that where I’m going, I’ll be given a second chance. And I’m going to take that for all that it’s worth.”

 

“Farm animals,” Voltex repeated.

 

“Farm animals,” Sumiki confirmed. “So now I say, shoot me.”

 

Voltex raised the gun. “Unpredictable until the end.”

 

“I try my best.”

 

They remained like that for longer than Voltex would ever admit - one still seated, calmly accepting his fate; the other aiming a gun with a shaking hand that had lost the will to fire - until Voltex reached a decision.

 

He would not kill Sumiki. Not here, not now.

 

“Hey Voltex, there you are-”

 

The sound of the door slamming open again, revealing Pulse, startled the Ba-Matoran; he flinched, his finger twitched.

 

BANG.

 

Voltex slowly turned around, dropping the gun to the floor as he did so. Blood dribbled down Sumiki’s face. The former CEO of Hat Enterprises was dead. He stumbled back, right into Pulse, who grabbed his shoulder to hold him up.

 

“We need to go,” the Matoran of Plasma said. “Voltex, we can’t stay here. The rest of the group is outside - and we’ve got a bigger problem than you executing a maniac to avenge Kante.”

 

“What… what is it?”

 

“We’re being hunted.”

To Be Continued.

 

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CHAPTER EIGHT

 

---[Voltex]---

---[Present Day]---

 

“What do you mean?” Voltex asked quietly. “Hunted by what?”

 

Pulse shook his head, pulling Voltex back up the stairs. The Ba-Matoran shook him off and stomped up the stairs himself, passing the orange and white clad Matoran.

 

“We don’t know,” Pulse replied from behind him. “It’s more than one person, though - we know one of them is the Pyro, because they burned down an entire street trying to kill us. We think one is another traitor hired by the White Council. And as for the third… well, we don’t know. They use ice?”

 

“That’s the Cryo,” Voltex said grimly, halting at the front door and turning to face Pulse. “Canis and I fought them. If the Pyro hadn’t caused half the building to collapse, we both would have been killed. Neither Canis or I could match the Cryo in a fight for more than a few seconds, and I have a nasty feeling that we didn’t see all of their abilities….”

 

“No idea who they are?”

 

“None.”

 

“Awesome,” Pulse muttered, sighing. “We should leave. The others are waiting outside.”

 

“Hold on a second,” Voltex said, turning back and sprinting down the stairs, entering the room where Sumiki’s body remained in its final resting place.

 

“What are you doing?” Pulse called.

 

“Looking for something!” Voltex yelled back.

 

He approached the desk where Sumiki sat, walking around to the opposite side and opening a drawer. His suspicions were confirmed - the former CEO of Hat Enterprises had indeed been concealing a weapon from him. But why had he not used it?

 

Well, it’s mine now, he thought.

 

Grabbing the flintlock pistol from the drawer (it seemed that even with his weaponry, Sumiki had an impeccable sense of style) and pulling its holster from a rack on the wall, Voltex sprinted back up the stairs to where Pulse was waiting, stopping only to grab Kante’s helmet on the way.

 

“Another gun?” the Su-Matoran asked.

 

“You never know,” Voltex said, shrugging as he attached the holster and placed the gun inside. Once it was secure, he pulled the helmet on. As its display flashed up, he continued, “when you’ll need an extra bit of firepower.”

 

“Don’t you have that arm device?” Pulse asked.

 

“Yeah, but they’ll expect that. Now let’s get moving - if we’re being hunted as you say, then I fear that we may have remained in one place for too long already.”

 

He pushed the door open and stepped out onto the street, where TBK, Taka Nuvia and RG were waiting.

 

“Kante?” TBK asked.

 

“Dead.”

 

The Po-Matoran nodded; Voltex assumed that he had been expecting the answer.

 

“So where to now?” RG asked quietly.

 

“We need to move, and we need to move fast,” Voltex said. “Unfortunately, there aren’t any vehicles that I can see… which means we’re going on f-”

 

He was cut off as the house that Sumiki had been residing in burst into flames, followed by each of the houses on either side. A split second later, Sumiki’s hiding place exploded, erupting into a giant ball of fire as burning pieces of wood flew in every direction - the group dove to the ground to avoid the wreckage, although a piece did hit Pulse in the shoulder.

 

“Are you okay?” Taka Nuvia asked, glancing over.

 

“No time!” Voltex snapped, pulling RG to his feet. “We need to move now, before he can land a clear shot!”

 

TBK helped Pulse to stand and the group sprinted away; at Voltex’s signal they ducked into the back alley as houses burst into flames all around them.

 

“How does the Pyro have this much power?” TBK asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Voltex said, frowning. “Perhaps there’s someone else at work here.”

 

“White Council?” RG asked.

 

“No,” Voltex replied. “White Council. Let’s rest here.”

 

They ducked into an open garage to rest; Voltex sat by the entrance while RG helped Pulse to sit down. The Su-Matoran was barely touching the floor before Taka Nuvia was inspecting the injury he had received.

 

“How is it?” Voltex asked.

 

“It should be fine,” Taka Nuvia said, stepping back. “Normally I would treat it right away, but I only have one healing sphere with me. Considering what we’re up against at the moment, I don’t feel like it should be wasted on a minor burn.”

 

“It stings a lot,” Pulse muttered.

 

“You’ll get over it,” Voltex replied, glancing out into the alley to stare at the houses burning in the distance. “Doesn’t look like any more homes are going up in flames - dare I mention that we might have lost the Pyro?”

 

He had not even finished speaking before the display on Kante’s helmet began flashing red, an alarm that only Voltex could hear alerting him to the presence of another individual.

 

“Voltex, watch out!” RG cried.

 

The electric blue Matoran dove into Voltex, causing them both to tumble out into the alley as a massive flare scorched the floor where Voltex had been seated a moment before. The Ba-Matoran rolled into a kneeling position and fired a blast from the Repulsor Arm at a house farther down, where the Pyro stood. The Pyro dodged the blast easily, vanishing from view.

 

“Everyone on your feet!” Voltex ordered. “Be alert!”

 

A whoosh came from somewhere behind him, and Voltex whirled around just in time for the Pyro’s axe to catch him in the side of the head. He felt the armored plating of the helmet give way to the blade, as the display sparked and died. The Pyro jumped away, leaving him to collapse onto his hands and knees, trying to make sense of what was going on. The world was spinning. With a groan, he reached up and unlatched the helmet, yanking it off. The world slowly stopped spinning as he gasped for breath.

 

Get a hold of yourself, you aren’t dead yet, he thought.

 

Pushing himself to his feet, the Ba-Matoran turned to see the Pyro advancing upon Taka Nuvia; without thinking, Voltex threw the ruined helmet directly at the Pyro; it collided with his enemy’s head. The Pyro turned to face him instead, a muffled laugh echoing from their gas mask.

 

“This is the last time you bother anybody,” Voltex whispered.

 

The Pyro charged, spewing fire from a flamethrower attached to their wrist that Voltex had to leap away to avoid. He fired off several shots from the Repulsor Arm, but they all missed their mark; the Pyro swung the axe up and slammed the handle into Voltex’s head, dazing the Ba-Matoran as he staggered back and collapsed against a fence.

 

Voltex struggled to stand as the axe was raised, fumbling with the pistol in its holster. The axe came down -

 

“NO!”

 

A flash of electric blue consumed Voltex’s vision as RG dove in front of him, shielding the Ba-Matoran’s body with his own. The Pyro’s axe imbedded itself into RG’s chest, causing him to collapse against Voltex and slump to the ground.

 

“RG,” Voltex whispered, before turning to the Pyro, clawing onto the fence to get back on his feet. “You die now.”

 

In a flash, he had the flintlock pistol out of its holster and fired; it pierced through the Pyro’s rusted armor, revealing dark green underneath. That was soon replaced by red. The Pyro’s hands clutched powerlessly at the bullethole.

 

“Let’s see the face under that mask,” Voltex said, stepping forward and removing the gas mask with ease now that the Pyro was distracted.

 

“Kaithas?!” TBK cried out in surprise. “But… you’re a Matoran of Plantlife!”

 

“Well, I outsmarted you,” Kaithas said weakly, coughing as he fell to his knees. “You have no idea what you’re in for… the White Council….”

 

“The White Council what?” Voltex asked, crouching beside the Pyro as he collapsed. “What about them?”

 

It was no use - Kaithas was dead.

 

“...Voltex…” the voice of RG weakly rasped from behind him.

 

The Ba-Matoran was at his side in a flash, with TBK right behind him. He glanced over to Taka Nuvia - she was helping Pulse to his feet.

 

“Don’t get her,” RG muttered, closing his eyes. “I gotta… it’s fine for me.”

 

“We can keep you alive,” Voltex replied. “You don’t have to die!”

 

“S’okay,” RG mumbled. “I know what to do….”

 

“RG?”

 

The electric blue Matoran was still. TBK sighed; Voltex just shook his head. Taka Nuvia and Pulse finally reached them, staring down at RG’s body. It was TBK who broke the silence.

 

“We need to keep moving. The Cryo is still out there, as well as the White Council’s other servants.”

 

“You’re right,” Voltex agreed, standing. “Let’s move-”

 

Click.

 

“Not so fast,” a voice said.

 

They froze.

 

“Turn around slowly,” the voice continued.

 

The four Matoran did as they were ordered, turning to face Shockwave, who had a crossbow aimed right at them. The Vo-Matoran let out a dark chuckle, glancing at the bodies of Kaithas and RG on the ground and shaking his head.

 

“This scene sure is a piece of work,” he said casually. “Oh, and you can drop the gun, Voltex - I know there was only one shot in there. And if you throw it at me… well, we’ll see how your friends like becoming pincushions.”

 

The Ba-Matoran complied.

 

“Are you the Cryo?” Taka Nuvia asked.

 

“Me? Nah,” Shockwave said. “No idea who that nutcase is. But I do know that I have orders from the White Council… and they would like all of you to be dead.”

 

“Who else is working with you?” Voltex asked.

 

Shockwave laughed. “You must think me to be some sort of rookie. Big mistake.”

 

“Is it?” Voltex challenged, stepping forward. “Or is it-”

 

He was interrupted by Shockwave firing a bolt right into Pulse’s stomach. The Su-Matoran groaned and collapsed, although TBK caught him before he could hit the ground. Shockwave sighed.

 

“You disappoint me,” the Vo-Matoran said.

 

“Yeah? Well you disappoint me too,” Voltex snapped, raising his arm.

 

The White Council servant realized what was happening just in time to save his skin - he twisted at the last second to dodge the first blast from the Repulsor Arm, although the second took off half his face. He cried out, staggering backwards and dropping his weapon to the ground.

 

“Whatever,” he gasped, retreating. “I’ll kill you! Mark my words!”

 

Voltex fired again; Shockwave dodged it and threw a sphere at the ground, which exploded into smoke upon impact with the ground. When it cleared, the Vo-Matoran had vanished, leaving behind only scattered pieces of his Kanohi mask.

 

“Don’t you dare pull it - AUUUGH!”

 

He turned to see TBK holding a bloody crossbow bolt and Taka Nuvia hunched over a cringing Pulse, who was lying on the ground and in what was obviously an extreme amount of pain. Before Voltex could ask what was going on, Taka Nuvia activated a pink sphere and shoved it into Pulse’s wound. The Su-Matoran’s eyes widened for a split second before unconsciousness claimed him.

 

“He should wake up in a few minutes,” Taka Nuvia said. “What do you want to do? He’s in no condition to travel… even getting him back to the hospital stands a good chance of aggravating his injuries.”

 

Voltex glanced to TBK, silently asking the question that both knew was on their minds. The Po-Matoran nodded.

 

“You take Pulse back, let Ehks know what’s going on,” Voltex said. “TBK and I will continue on towards the jail, find Valendale, and get the information that we’re looking for.”

 

“Are you sure?” Taka Nuvia asked.

 

“Positive,” Voltex replied. “You’re the only medically trained Matoran we have, and there’s no way Pulse will make it back to base on his own. Just have Ehks send backup; TBK and I might be able to avoid the Cryo, but if it comes to a confrontation I’m not confident about our chances.”

 

“Alright,” the Av-Matoran said. “You two can go now - I’ll be fine here until Pulse wakes up.”

 

“We’ll see you later then,” the Ba-Matoran said, before turning to TBK. “Ready?”

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” the Po-Matoran muttered. “Let’s head out.”

 

---

 

Darkness everywhere.

 

Everything dying.

 

Decaying.

 

Rusting away.

 

Gone forever….

 

Scenario Alpha. Beta?

 

Splitting apart.

 

Do not kill them.

 

Tick.

 

Tick.

 

Tick-

 

“Voltex! Snap out of it!”

 

He came to with a start, the familiar face of TBK looming over him. Seeing that he was awake, the Po-Matoran sighed and stepped back. Voltex groaned and rubbed his head, glancing around.

 

“Where are we? What happened?”

 

“You just totally blacked out,” TBK responded. “I think your lightstone got knocked loose fighting the Pyro. It messed you up pretty bad; I’ve been trying to wake you up for at least an hour.”

 

Voltex sighed, accepting the hand TBK offered and standing. “I can’t afford for that to be happening to me during fights… the sooner I can be fully healed, the better. Assuming it’s even possible.”

 

“Well, you shouldn’t have to, uh, worry too much…” TBK replied, laughing nervously. “It might hurt, but I kind of stabbed it into you a little bit. Just to keep it a little more secure, you know.”

 

“Thanks,” Voltex said. “I don’t care if it’ll hurt - if it’s going to stay in place, that’s all that matters.”

 

TBK opened his mouth to reply, but froze as a frigid breeze blew by. Both Matoran started to shiver, and Voltex glanced around the street they stood on, noticing nothing out of the ordinary - or so it seemed.

 

“Something’s wrong,” TBK whispered.

 

“It’s too cold,” Voltex said. “I think it might be too late to evade the Cryo….”

 

“You would be correct,” said a distorted voice, crackling through a filter.

 

There was a shimmering in the middle of the road - it became more obvious as the Cryo deactivated their cloaking device, revealing the figure to have a blaster in each hand aimed at both Voltex and TBK. The Cryo slowly made their way towards the two Matoran; Voltex fought the urge to flinch at the helmet that looked so much like Kante’s.

 

“Let us make this as simple as possible,” the Cryo said. “One of you is going to die - that is inevitable. I will allow the two of you to decide which one I shall kill.”

 

A blast of ice turned Voltex’s right arm into an ice cube below the elbow, rendering the Repulsor Arm useless before he had even considered trying to use it.

 

“Who are you?” TBK asked.

 

“That is none of your concern,” said the Cryo. “Suffice it to say that I serve my own agenda.”

 

“Also known as the White Council,” Voltex muttered.

 

“The White Council is of little concern to me, outside of the fact that they exist,” the Cryo responded. “Although you remind me of their leader, White One - you have a similar presence. Both of you are very demanding, and are prone to anger when you do not get your way.”

 

That shut Voltex up fast, sending his mind reeling back to a conversation with  the late Mayor of Bz-Koro….

 

“I already told you that I’m going mad. Why not give it to Burnmad?”

 

“Because you are the leader of those Matoran. Also, I feel like I know you better… and something about you reminds me of White One, the few times I was ever ‘privileged’ to be in his presence.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“The two of you have a similar way of expressing yourselves, if you can believe it, but he has clearly managed to brainwash half the universe… so if you can lead in a similar manner for the forces of good, then I believe we might be able to win this war.”

 

He did not like being compared to the being responsible for bringing about the creation of a group of tyrants determined to rule over the entire universe.

 

“My patience runs thin,” the Cryo said. “Decide now or I shall decide for you.”

 

We’ll fight, Voltex decided. I don’t care if we both die… whoever this is, they need to pay.

 

He was just getting ready to try and club the Cryo in the head with his frozen arm when TBK stepped forward, sending him a small, sad smile. The Ba-Matoran hesitated, confused, before realizing what was happening.

 

“No, TBK, no! I’m not letting you! You’re not dying for me!”

 

“Voltex, you and I both know we won’t make it out of here if we fight,” the Po-Matoran said. “You’re our leader - I trust that dying for you is worth it. Lead the others back to Metru-Nui, and defeat the White Council. I know you can do it.”

 

“Please don’t do this,” Voltex whispered.

 

“I’m sorry,” TBK said. “But something RG said makes me think this might be the best course of action after all. See you on the other side, maybe.”

 

The Cryo fired, and a spike of ice flew through TBK’s chest, leaving a gaping hole. He was dead before he hit the ground.

 

“No,” Voltex whispered.

 

“We shall meet again, Voltex,” the Cryo said. “And when we do, you may not be so lucky.”

 

The Ba-Matoran ignored the Cryo as they vanished, staring down at the corpse of the late TBK, and wondering what he had done to deserve all of this. Something was very, very wrong.

 

---

 

Night had fallen by the time he reached the BZ-Koro Jail, in all of its dark and imposing glory. There was a vaguely foreboding aura to the facility as he slowly opened the door and slipped inside into the dimly lit lobby. The place was deserted - undoubtedly thanks to the current state of affairs in BZ-Koro, most prisoners and guards had either died or had been absorbed into Project Mayhem.

 

But of course, one prisoner remained - checking the security feeds, Voltex discovered a Ko-Matoran that he presumed to be Valendale in an isolation cell. Whether the Ko-Matoran had been forgotten or had chosen to stay, he would have to find out.

 

He made his way through the silent halls and down to the isolation chamber where Valendale was being held, and opened the door. The Ko-Matoran glanced up, regarding him silently. After a moment, Voltex spoke.

 

“I’m Voltex. I was informed that you’re a member of Project Mayhem.”

 

“I know who you are,” Valendale said quietly. “There aren’t many who don’t, not here. You’ll either be one of Project Mayhem’s greatest allies or worst enemies. Why should I trust you with information I refused to give to the police? What makes you so different?”

 

“If you agree to introduce me to the leader of Project Mayhem, I’ll help you out of here,” Voltex said. “I don’t know why you haven’t escaped already like everyone else, but I also don’t care. You’ll get your freedom back if you help me.”

 

The ghost of a smile played upon the Ko-Matoran’s face. “I was ordered to remain here until you came… my leaders are very curious about where your loyalties might lie.”

 

“Right now? Nobody except for my friends, and myself,” Voltex said. “So where do I find Project Mayhem?”

 

“That is a question that many have asked of me in recent weeks,” the Ko-Matoran replied. “I have yet to deem anyone worthy of an actual answer.”

 

“And your freedom isn’t worth it?” Voltex asked.

 

Valendale shrugged. “I have survived within my cell for long enough, without anyone to bother me. I think I could stand to remain here a little longer.”

 

“It’s only locked from your side. You have no idea when somebody might be coming.”

 

“That is true,” Valendale said. “But why do you want to learn about Project Mayhem and its leaders? What is so interesting to you about them?”

 

Voltex thought back to a scene in an office, six months prior.

 

---

 

“How about this – I promise to step back and not stab you for a few minutes if you promise not to shoot me.”

 

The Gravity Matoran considered it for a moment before relenting. Both Matoran warily released the pressure, with Xaeraz taking several steps back to sit on top of Manducus’s wooden desk.

 

“You do realize that you can’t kill me here, right?” Voltex asked.

 

“I won’t,” Xaeraz corrected.

 

Voltex frowned. “You won’t?”

 

“I won’t,” Xaeraz repeated, nodding and twirling his knife in his hands idly.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I don’t want to,” the Fe-Matoran said simply.

 

The Ba-Matoran’s frown deepened as he considered the statement. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice that Xaeraz had disappeared into the air vent until the Fe-Matoran coughed loudly to grab his attention.

 

“We both know you can’t stop me because I’ll just kill you in retaliation,” the Iron Matoran said brightly. “I’ll let you take Manducus as a consolation prize.”

 

“He’s the main prize,” Voltex said. “I came here tonight to arrest him, not you.”

 

“So you did,” Xaeraz acknowledged, “but it’s me that you really want. Consider yourself lucky.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because he hired me as tonight’s security specifically to kill you,” Xaeraz said, “but now isn’t the right time for that. I have big plans for you, Voltex. Just remember that. I won’t visit you in the middle of the night – if I was going to you’d be dead already – but when I put my plans into action, you’ll be right at the center of it all, drowning in blood.”

 

---

 

“What do you know about Xaeraz?”

 

“I know enough,” Valendale smirked.

 

---

 

“Now, I know you must all be feeling a little panicked right now,” Xaeraz said with a smile. “Don’t worry – you should be! You see, I have a quick little test for you all. Those that can survive the next ten minutes get the chance to compete in a game that will earn them the right to leave this building. The rest of you will die. Please enjoy the last few minutes of your lives.”

 

---

 

“He killed nearly two hundred Matoran at that conference. Not to mention his involvement in Operation Rainfall.”

 

Xaeraz specifically never did anything during Rainfall,” Valendale replied. “As for the Conference… no, he did not kill almost two hundred Matoran. He allowed them to kill themselves. But I wonder - I’ve heard tell of your involvement in planning that conference, Voltex… have you made sure to place some of the blame on yourself?”

 

---

 

“Xaeraz made me the Detective for a reason, Blade.”

 

“So?”

 

“It was my job,” Voltex said, looking Blade in the eye. “He chose me because of my job. Because of what I do for a living.”

 

“But you don’t do anything,” Blade said, his voice laced with confusion. “I know you don’t like us saying it, but you’re about as homeless as homeless gets.”

 

“That’s just my day job,” Voltex said. “It’s a facade, designed to hide what I’m truly doing.”

 

The Vo-Matoran’s gaze narrowed. “And what are you ‘truly doing’, Tex?”

 

He took a deep breath, inwardly preparing himself for whatever verbal tirade or physical contact was sure to follow. “I work for the White Council.”

 

Dead silence met his words.

 

“I-I’m not the only one,” he said quickly. “I’m part of – or at least, I was a part of – a covert force six Matoran strong led by Burnmad, used by the White Council to infiltrate their most powerful enemies and the greatest threats to their rule, the ones that they can’t just beat down or arrest. Since we’re just Matoran, we’re inconspicuous – we sneak in, gain their trust, and then arrest them for treason.”

 

“You must be lying,” Blade breathed, his mouth hanging open.

 

“I’m not,” Voltex said, shaking his head. “Remember when Manducus was put behind bars, but they could never figure out who made the arrest? That’s because it was me. Why do you think Pulse is here? He got one of my team mates to blab everything and learned too much.”

 

“Wait just a second,” Blade said, slapping a hand over his mouth. “What did you just say about Pulse?”

 

Voltex realized his mistake far, far too late to do anything about it. With a gulp, he said: “I... uh, said that one of my team mates blabbed everything to him and he knew too much, so... he was removed.”

 

“He was removed?” Blade asked, his voice barely a whisper. “How much do you know?”

 

His throat was dry as he explained. “For the past couple months, the White Council have had a couple Matoran such as Pulse and I helping them with various stages of a – a plan. They called it Scenario Alpha.”

 

“I don’t give a stone rat’s fart what the name of the plan was,” Blade snapped. “What did you help them plan, Tex? What is Scenario Alpha?”

 

---

 

“I’m trying to fix the mistakes I’ve made,” Voltex said quietly. “Luroka did something that started turning me mad, and as of now, I still don’t have a permanent cure. But I am currently sane enough to regret my actions. I killed my own friend in cold blood, executed Matoran without a second glance. I feel horrible. But at least I’m trying to fix it. At least I’m trying to fix me.”

 

Valendale nodded, seeming satisfied. “You have passed. I shall take you to meet my leaders.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“I had to be sure of your true motives,” the Ko-Matoran explained, standing to his feet. “Now link arms with me. I was granted a teleportation pad by my friends in Project Mayhem recently, and I shall take you to our headquarters.”

 

The Ko-Matoran revealed a round metal disk; he activated it and tossed it onto the floor, where it latched on and began to glow. Voltex glanced at him suspiciously, and Valendale shrugged.

 

“I shall go first,” the Ko-Matoran offered. “You may follow.”

 

He was gone in a flash of white light. Voltex hesitated for a moment before realizing that the last thing he wanted to do was stay in the dilapidated prison alone. So the Ba-Matoran stepped onto the teleportation pad tentatively, and the world disappeared from his eyes as a brand new set of surroundings slammed into his vision.

 

“Welcome,” Valendale said as he staggered away from the pad. “Yes, they are a bit rough the first time you use them… you get used to it eventually.”

 

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Voltex groaned. “Where are we?”

 

“Look up.”

 

He did, his eyes rising to stare at the flickering lights of a sign reading “Kikinalo Bar”. The establishment was in rather shabby condition.

 

“Let’s go inside,” Valendale said. “They will be waiting.”

 

The Ko-Matoran held the door open for him as he stepped inside, glancing around the room. It was empty aside from a sole occupant behind the counter - a female Vo-Matoran idly scrubbing a tall mug and staring right at him.

 

“I see you finally broke yourself out,” she said to Valendale.

 

“And I have brought company with me,” the Ko-Matoran replied. “Elittra, this is Voltex.”

 

The Vo-Matoran’s eyes sparked with curiosity, and her mouth twisted into a grin. “Is he now? He’s far less impressive than I was led to believe. I suppose you’ll want him downstairs, though?”

 

“Please.”

 

She shrugged and beckoned for them to follow her; she walked through a door marked “employees only” and down a small set of stairs, where another door was shut.

 

“One piece of advice,” she said casually to Voltex. “Try not to be too noisy. Yeah, I get that it’s going to hurt. But there’s no need to be a baby about it.”

 

That does not sound promising.

 

Elittra twisted the handle and pushed open the door to the sound of a Matoran’s voice booming in the room within. Valendale gripped Voltex’s shoulder and started dragging the Ba-Matoran inside; he shook the Ko-Matoran off and stalked further in on his own, right to the center of the circle that had gathered around a single Le-Matoran.

 

“And the final rule, of course,” the Le-Matoran yelled, his eyes meeting Voltex’s and gleaming with satisfaction. “If this is your first night here, you have to fight.”

To Be Continued.

Edited by CHRIS PRATT
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CHAPTER 9

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Ehks]---

 

He heard the voices crying for his name from the lobby of the hotel, even though he had locked himself into his workspace behind a thick metal door. He ignored them until he could feel the multitude of fists hammering upon the door behind him, attaching the last two pieces of his Reanimator prototype together.

 

“EHKS, OPEN UP!” the voice of Burnmad bellowed. “We need medical aid!”

 

I’m not a doctor, Ehks thought, before glancing down at the prototype lying upon the table before him. But then… I could use an opportunity to test this thing out.

 

Strapping the Reanimator prototype to his back, the Av-Matoran pulled the door open and blinked at the sudden burst of light from the hallway, where the Ta-Matoran Burnmad was waiting, arm still raised and about to continue knocking.

 

“There you are,” Burnmad muttered, lowering his arm. “Come on.”

 

“Just to remind you, I’m not a doctor,” Ehks said, following the Ta-Matoran as he whirled around and began speedwalking back down the hallway. “But I did need an excuse to try out the Reanimator, so… what’s up?”

 

“Pulse was burned and got shot, or so Taka Nuvia says,” Burnmad answered. “Our supply of health spheres is also apparently dead. We wanted to test out your machine and see if it works.”

 

“And if it doesn’t?”

 

“Let’s just hope it does.”

 

They rounded the corner and entered the waiting area, where Taka Nuvia was crouched beside Pulse. The Su-Matoran was lying across several seats, the impact mark from a bullet still visible.

 

“I thought your healing spheres got rid of that stuff,” Ehks said, pointing to the mark.

 

“It malfunctioned,” Taka Nuvia said shortly. “Can you heal him? I don’t think it removed the bullet.”

 

“It should work,” Ehks said. “I’m almost at the final stage… let’s try this out.”

 

He activated the Reanimator, and a beam of blue light shot out, connecting with Pulse and enveloping him in a glowing blue bubble. Before their eyes, every injury both major and minor was healed; the scratches and dents in Pulse’s armor were fixed. The Su-Matoran slowly sat up, the bubble still surrounding him, and blinked.

 

“How are you feeling?” Burnmad asked.

 

“Amazing,” Pulse muttered. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time. What is this stuff?”

 

The Ta-Matoran shrugged, glancing to Ehks questioningly.

 

“I dunno,” Ehks said, deactivating the Reanimator. “Don’t ask me. I just built the thing.”

 

“That was awesome,” Pulse whispered.

 

“Can you do that to Canis?” a voice asked, making them all jump.

 

Ehks turned to see Automaton, who had approached unnoticed. Smiling nervously, he shrugged. “I… guess I could give it a try, yeah. We can see if it works.”

 

Automaton nodded. Ehks stood up; after checking once more that Pulse was fine, he left the group and headed for the room where Canis was being kept. As he walked away, he glanced back; Automaton was still staring at him.

 

---

 

“RG is dead.”

 

Ehks turned to see the De-Matoran Vinylstep entering the room. The former Dark Hunter offered him a grim smile before sitting on the other side of Canis, who remained unconsious. A softer blue beam than the one that had connected to Pulse was currently latched onto the Detective.

 

“How do you know?” Ehks asked.

 

“I talked to Taka Nuvia. She said it’s just Voltex and TBK. They’re still being hunted by the Cryo - you know, the one that brought him-” here, Vinylstep gestured to Canis, “-within an inch of death.”

 

“You want to go after them.”

 

“Voltex was pretty battered after that fight, and I mean no offense to TBK, but he won’t be worth anything in a fight that can leave Voltex knocked out and Canis as good as dead,” Vinylstep said. “You know my reputation, I think. I can at least give them a fighting chance.”

 

“Why not ask Burnmad?” Ehks asked. “I’m… not really in charge at all. The hierarchy is pretty much Voltex, and then Burnmad, and then anarchy.”

 

“They both hold you in high regard, as do the other survivors of the Conference,” Vinylstep replied, before commenting, “your machine is sparking.”

 

Ehks glanced down. So it was. He looked at Canis, examining the Detective’s body; determining him to be fine, he shut down the Reanimator, resolving to repair it later. He glanced back up at Vinylstep.

 

“Sure, I guess,” he said. “But if I get in trouble, I’m blaming you.”

 

“I would expect nothing else,” Vinylstep said drily, standing up. “Once you’re done here, Lhikevikk was looking for you.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

---

 

An hour later, after fiddling with the Reanimator for a bit and double-checking to make sure that the recovery of Canis had sped up (before Taka Nuvia sent him away), Ehks entered a small conference room, grabbing a seat at the round table within. Lhikevikk, Portalfig, and the newly recovered Pulse were already inside.

 

“You guys wanted to see me?”

 

“We wanted to meet with each other,” Lhikevikk replied. “You know, as the survivors of the Conference… our numbers are dwindling.”

 

“Kayn and Sumiki executed, Luroka missing, Locke murdered by Kaithas,” Pulse listed, ticking each one off with his fingers. “Chances are that Voltex or TBK is going to be killed by the Cryo… which leaves five, maybe six of us alive. Out of over two hundred.”

 

“RG was at the conference too,” Portalfig interrupted. “So… boost that number by one. It’s still a horridly small number, but… well, you know.”

 

Pulse rolled his eyes. “RG got killed by Kaithas as well, you moron.”

 

“Hey,” Lhikevikk said, holding a hand up in warning. “We get it - it’s a disappointingly low number and we’re on the verge of war. Who do we trust outside of this group?”

 

“Taka Nuvia for sure,” Ehks said. “Vinylstep and Canis.”

 

“Squishy can probably be trusted,” Portalfig said with a shrug.

 

“Shockwave is working with the White Council,” Pulse told them. “He’s the one that shot me. We need to kill him as soon as possible.”

 

“I don’t trust Automaton,” Ehks said. “He’s been too quiet, lurking in the shadows. It’s exactly what Unit and Luroka did in the conference, and he was giving me weird looks earlier.”

 

“There’s definitely an enemy working close to Burnmad,” Lhikevikk agreed. “Whether it’s Automaton or someone else is another question entirely, but we need to assume the worst. With Voltex getting himself shot every ten minutes along with Canis, Taka Nuvia busy healing everyone and us sticking together… Burnmad’s the only one really associating with anyone from BZ-Koro. The White Council must have a spy.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Xaeraz had someone near Burnmad working for him as well,” Portalfig added.

 

“So how do we find out who they are?” Ehks asked, trying to push his last encounter with Xaeraz out of his mind.

 

“In here you were playing my game, by my rules – and rest assured, I will hunt down those who broke my rules and I will make them pay the consequences. Perhaps I was your enemy – perhaps I still am. But I think it is more likely we are about to become allies.”

 

“Are we really?”

 

Xaeraz nodded. “You know why we are all here. And I do believe that you know what is about to happen when that extraction team arrives.”

 

“And what would make you think that?”

 

“The fact that you are still here speaking with me and not out there waiting with all of them,” Xaeraz said. “They believe that it is all over, Ehks. What do you believe?”

 

He inhaled, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s just beginning.”

 

The Fe-Matoran smiled, seemingly satisfied. “That is precisely what is happening. Now run along – and mind you don’t spill all of your dark secrets to the wrong person, Ehks... I’d hate to have my men clean your corpse off the streets.”

 

He shuddered, although the other Matoran did not mention it if they noticed, for which Ehks was thankful.

 

“I think we just need to be really careful,” Portalfig said. “Outright accusations will get us nowhere - even if someone is innocent, tensions are high. It wouldn’t surprise me if we managed to turn our allies against us by accusing them of things they haven’t done.”

 

“Besides, if we did accuse any traitors, they’ll only become more violent,” Pulse added. “The time for stealth will have ended, and that’s going to mean more blood spilled.”

 

“Have any of you stopped to consider what happens next?” Ehks asked.

 

The others glanced at him, confused. It was Lhikevikk who finally spoke. “What do you mean?”

 

“Let’s assume that we win whatever it is here on BZ-Koro,” Ehks said. “We beat Xaeraz and the traitors or whoever, and we get off this island… where do we go next? If we’re enemies with the White Council, there’s no way we’ll be welcome on Metru-Nui.”

 

“There is if we play our cards right,” Portalfig said. “If the White Council doesn’t know who exactly survived the conference - or if they’re planning on all of us being killed by their little mafia group - then we have the benefit of lacking bad press. When they can just say that Xaeraz killed us all, there’s no need to ruin our public image. Lhikevikk and I could easily gather support, and I’m sure Voltex could as well. Even Burnmad if he played his cards right.”

 

“There are Matoran who liked me, despite what my critics believed,” Pulse added. “Probably not as many as the others, but it would help, especially if they see that I’m allied with you lot.”

 

“You’re saying we go to war,” Ehks realized.

 

“Of course,” Lhikevikk replied. “Is there really any other option? How much influence does the White Council hold now? Can we even be sure we’d be safe on a different island, assuming we’ll even make it there?”

 

“Lhikevikk is right,” Portalfig said, nodding. “We need to fight. I’ve taken down a criminal organization before… I believe we can do this.”

 

Ehks shook his head with a sigh. “Turning Metru-Nui into a warzone is a bad idea.”

 

“Of course it is,” Pulse snorted, rolling his eyes. “But everything else is worse.”

 

The silver clad Av-Matoran had no response for that.

 

---[5 Months Ago]---

---[burnmad]---

 

The Ta-Matoran glanced up from his desk at the sound of a knock on his door. He pressed a button underneath his desk and the door slid open to reveal a familiar Ba-Matoran, who looked more than a little nervous.

 

“What’s up, Voltex?”

 

“Not much,” Voltex replied, waiting for the door to close. “Is this private?”

 

“As private as can be guaranteed,” Burnmad responded, shrugging. “Which is to say… privacy is never really guaranteed. Although I think if the White Council knew everything that was said in this room, I would be dead by now.”

 

“I’ll chance it,” Voltex said.

 

“Why? What happened?”

 

“It’s not so much anything specific,” the Ba-Matoran said, trailing off and growing quieter as he continued: “it’s more just… in general.”

 

“What is it, exactly?”

 

“I’ve been having doubts,” Voltex explained. “About the White Council. What their real motives are. I’m not so certain that I’m fighting for the right side anymore.”

 

Burnmad could not help it; he let out a dry laugh, confusing the Ba-Matoran even further. The look on Voltex’s face only made him laugh harder, until the grim reality of their situation killed his sense of humor once more. Sighing, he decided to clarify things for the Ba-Matoran.

 

“Voltex… the White Council aren’t good. At all,” he said. “In fact, they are far from it. Tell me, can you recall when they came to be in control of Metru-Nui? A specific date or announcement?”

 

“Not really,” Voltex muttered. “But then, my memory gets really fuzzy the further back I go. I hit my head or something, got amnesia. I forgot everything, and anything I do remember is hazy.”

 

“Alright, so you’re the worst Matoran to talk to about this, then,” Burnmad said, grimacing. “Regardless - my point is, nobody can. There is no specific date; there’s a time frame of about a week, but the day that they took over is unknown to all but the White Council themselves. They didn’t come to be in power naturally; they seized it.”

 

“So what happened to the old leaders of Metru-Nui?”

 

“I don’t know,” Burnmad said, sighing. “I’ve tried looking for them - if they’re even still around - but it’s hard to get anywhere in the Coliseum without the White Council noticing.”

 

“So we’re helping tyrants,” Voltex said slowly, his expression hardening. “Why are you doing this willingly? At least I was deceived!”

 

“Hey, whoa, calm down,” Burnmad said quickly, holding his hands in the air. “I’m not. I was a leader of the Resistance a few years back, alongside a few other Matoran. When the Resistance imploded… I survived, and managed to go undetected. And when the White Council approached me for this job… not only could I not refuse, I saw it for what it was.”

 

“What was it?”

 

“The perfect opportunity - to strike at them from the heart. Unfortunately, I have neither the information or the firepower necessary. It’s slow going.”

 

A look of guilt flashed upon Voltex’s face and the Ba-Matoran spoke. “I should probably tell you something, then.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“A month back, right before I detained Manducus, the White Council approached me,” Voltex explained. “White One was there in person. They hired me onto a project they’re calling Scenario Alpha. A gambit to wipe out all of their enemies in one fell swoop.”

 

“I wish you had told me about this sooner,” Burnmad said quietly. “It’s going to take me at least six months to muster a force strong enough to stop this from going down. Please tell me I have that long.”

 

“Five months,” Voltex said.

 

Rubbing at his eyes, Burnmad shook his head and sighed. “You’re dismissed. I need to think about this, and get in touch with some of my contacts.”

 

The Ba-Matoran nodded and got up, exiting the room. Burnmad’s face dropped into his hands as he took several deep breaths to calm himself before starting a video conference call, glad to see that both the Matoran he was attempting to reach were online.

 

“Hey Burn,” Automaton said onscreen. “What’s up?”

 

“You got lucky,” Squishy said by way of greeting. “I just got back. What do you need?”

 

“How is it on BZ-Koro?” Burnmad asked. “Any trouble?”

 

“None,” Squishy said. “Activity from a group calling themselves ‘Project Mayhem’ is starting to pick up a bit, but I think it’ll be a non-issue in the long run. Playing undercover right beneath the White Council’s noses is working for you?”

 

“As well as anyone could expect,” Burnmad said grimly. “Look, I need you two to be keeping your eyes open; Voltex has been hired by the White Council for a secret project, and I’m worried he hasn’t shared all of the details with me.”

 

“What’s this project about?” Automaton asked.

 

“Something about getting rid of all of their enemies in one strike,” Burnmad replied. “Keep your eyes out, see if anything seems amiss. You know, unexplained construction of things you don’t recognize, or large gatherings of troops loyal to the White Council, or something. I don’t know what we should be expecting, but if the White Council succeeds… well, it’ll take a miracle to shut them down.”

 

“It shouldn’t be too much of a problem here,” Squishy said. “BZ-Koro and Metru-Nui have got a bit of a rough relationship at the moment, but I’ll keep an eye on things.”

 

“As will I,” Automaton said. “Anyway, I’ve got to go - appointments with conspiracy theorists and the like.”

 

“I should go as well,” Burnmad said regretfully. “The White Council will grow curious why I have stayed in my office all day… I’d like to avoid repeating the last incident with White Nine.”

 

He shut down the video feeds, taking a moment to mentally prepare himself for confronting the different members of the White Council again. He needed to organize Takua’s next mission with White Two, and before the end of the day, he needed to discuss the security precautions being taken regarding Pulse’s new assistant with White Eight.

 

The sooner he could betray them, the easier it would be.

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

“Well?” the Le-Matoran asked, stepping towards him, his arms open wide. “Who shall you fight?”

 

Voltex remained silent, casting his gaze around the room to find an opponent - but he could not find any that he was certain he could beat. His eyes met Valendale’s, and he contemplated the possible results of fighting a Matoran nearly twice his size.

 

He threw a punch, but the Ko-Matoran blocked it with ease, twisting his arm. He kicked Valendale in the stomach, causing him to let his arm go before rolling to the side and kicking out again, hoping to trip the Ko-Matoran. Valendale dodged easily before body slamming him, holding him in a chokehold until he gave up.

 

Not Valendale, then. Perhaps Elittra?

 

He never even had time to react as the agile Vo-Matoran flipped through the air and landed behind him, sending a roundhouse kick into his face that knocked him out instantly.

 

No, definitely not.

 

Part of his success in Bionifight had come from his ability to read his opponents, predicting how they would fight and where they would move; when combined with the studies of his opponent’s techniques, he had been lethal in the arena. Except there was not a single Matoran in the room that he could get any sort of a read on.

 

So if my chances of success aren’t guaranteed, maybe I can get through on sheer audacity, he thought.

 

“I’ll fight you,” Voltex decided, addressing the Le-Matoran.

 

Several snickers floated up from the crowd surrounding them. The Le-Matoran glanced at him as if to ask “are you serious?”, before shrugging. “Alright. Let’s begin.”

 

Unprepared, the first punch caught Voltex entirely by surprise, smashing against the side of his face and sending him reeling. The second punch knocked him to the floor. Grimacing, he rolled to the side and managed to avoid a kick, heaving himself to his feet and immediately tackling the Le-Matoran. The next several seconds were an incomprehensible blur, as the two Matoran each wrestled to get a good hold on the other while attempting to stop the same from happening to them. It ended when the Le-Matoran managed to land a good hit on Voltex’s shoulder, stunning the Ba-Matoran enough for the Le-Matoran to toss him to the other side of the circle.

 

Karz, that hurts, Voltex thought, letting loose a groan as he pushed himself to his feet. Is this even worth it?

 

He dodged another punch, grabbing the Le-Matoran’s arm and pulling his opponent towards him, flipping the Le-Matoran over his shoulder. Whirling around as the Le-Matoran slammed down on his back, Voltex straddled his opponent and began raining down punch after punch upon the Le-Matoran’s mask, refusing to allow his opponent even a second to gather his bearings, until -

 

Tap tap.

 

The Ba-Matoran froze, having notice the green hand tapping the floor out of the corner of his eye. Below him, the Le-Matoran coughed, a small smile appearing.

 

“I’m out,” the Le-Matoran said, his voice raspy. “Well done. Welcome to Project Mayhem.”

 

Voltex crawled off, panting.

 

---

 

He spent the rest of the night seated at the edge of the room with Elittra, Valendale and the Le-Matoran (who he quickly learned was named Tyler). He watched Matoran beaten within an inch of their life, only to come back up grinning like Mata-Nui himself had blessed them.

 

“What’s the point of this?” he asked, gesturing to the latest bout.

 

“Project Mayhem began as a solitary ‘fight club’ in Onu-Metru known as the ‘Pit’,” Elittra responded.

 

“It was to give Matoran a space in which they could fulfill their violent fantasies,” Tyler said. “When the White Council took over, Xaeraz took an interest in the Pit - together, we expanded so that there was one in each Metru.”

 

“From there, it sort of grew,” Elittra continued. “After the Resistance fell, nothing was in the way of the White Council - so together, Tyler and Xaeraz formed Project Mayhem, and we’ve been causing them trouble ever since.”

 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Voltex replied. “BZ-Koro was on horrible terms with the White Council, and yet it seems to be the focus of your operations, while the White Council controls Metru-Nui relatively unimpeded.”

 

“The Matoran of BZ-Koro hate the White Council more than anyone,” Tyler said, “because the White Council wants to annex this island and rule over it as well. We focused our operations here because it would be easier to gather an army here - and we were right. There are very few Matoran left in BZ-Koro that are not either a part of Project Mayhem, the police force, or both.”

 

“Was it you who killed Hero?”

 

Valendale, who had remained silent until now, laughed - but it was again Tyler who answered: “Absolutely not. The last thing we wanted to do was execute the leader of BZ-Koro while they were an enemy of the White Council. No, that was orchestrated by someone else… and now that BZ-Koro lacks a public leader, we have to accelerate our plans.”

 

“I need to meet with Xaeraz,” Voltex said. “I was there when Hero died - I know who replaced him, and why they haven’t stepped up to the plate yet.”

 

“Are you sure you want to meet Xaeraz?” Tyler asked.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

Tyler turned to Valendale. “Close up shop for the night - let everyone know that we’ll be meeting an hour earlier tomorrow evening. I want both you and Elittra to remain behind and wait for us to be finished.”

 

The Ko-Matoran nodded; he and Elittra stood and began wading through the crowd of Matoran, while Tyler beckoned Voltex over to a door in the corner.

 

“Prepare yourself,” Tyler said. “I don’t know everything that he is going to tell you, or share with you - but I need to go find a friend that I think you’ll find very useful. In the meantime… trust Xaeraz for now.”

 

“For now?”

 

The Le-Matoran was already gone, vanishing through another door. Sighing, Voltex took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping inside and closing it quickly. The sounds of the fighting vanished immediately. The room was lit by a solitary light bulb that flickered dimly from where it hung in the center.

 

“Well, well, well,” a voice said from the shadows on the other side of the room. “The prodigal son returns!”

 

Voltex remained silent as the rusted, cobbled-together form of Xaeraz slowly stood and made its way towards him. The Fe-Matoran stopped less than a foot away, and the orange eyes met the red. Xaeraz smirked, casually spinning a dagger in his right hand.

 

“Tell me something,” Xaeraz whispered, his left hand rising to Voltex’s chest and fiddling with the armor that covered it. “How does it feel to be just like me?”

 

Before Voltex could respond, the Fe-Matoran’s hand closed upon something and yanked - and then all he knew was a furious, screaming pain.

To Be Continued.

 

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CHAPTER 10

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Ehks]---

 

“Let me get this straight,” Burnmad said quietly, staring at Ehks and Lhikevikk with disbelief in his eyes. “You want me to believe you when you tell me that the White Council has an agent planted right next to me?”

 

“Yes,” Ehks said. “I know it’s hard to accept, Burnmad-”

 

“It’s not just hard to accept,” the Ta-Matoran interrupted. “It’s downright impossible - insane. Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting?”

 

“Burn, we’ve all been betrayed in the past few weeks,” Lhikevikk said. “You might not know what that’s like….”

 

“I know plenty of what betrayal is like,” Burnmad snapped. “But the only Matoran that you could possibly be implying are Squishy and Automaton.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Ehks shifted uncomfortably when Burnmad turned his gaze to him and shrugged. “Automaton’s been a little suspicious lately, Burnmad. That’s all we’re saying.”

 

“What does Voltex think?”

 

“Voltex doesn’t even know,” Ehks said. “He hasn’t exactly gotten to spend a lot of time with us since the conference, you know.”

 

“Man,” Burnmad muttered, smiling sadly. “I don’t even get why you all listen to him… because if you’re right, you don’t even need a leader. You’re way too efficient - especially since Voltex seems to have gone more than a little off the deep end.”

 

“No,” Lhikevikk said, shaking his head and ingoring the jibe at Voltex. “I think we’re just starting to get a little genre savvy. When you keep getting betrayed by everyone… well, you start to learn who you can trust.”

 

“And you can trust each other?” Burnmad asked. “All of the survivors trust each other?”

 

“There aren’t exactly many of us left,” Ehks reminded him. “Voltex, TBK, Pulse, Portalfig and the two of us are all that’s left. That doesn’t leave much room for any traitors, and we know that the White Council wanted everyone at the conference dead, which means none of us are working for them right now.”

 

“How do you know the conference was meant to eliminate everyone there?” Burnmad asked. “I thought that was classified information. Nobody knew about it.”

 

“Voltex told me.”

 

“That’s so unlike him,” Burnmad muttered.

 

“He’s been out of sorts, like you said,” Ehks responded. “And I mean, I’ve kind of been the only one able to help him with his little ‘corruption’ issue.Maybe he was feeling grateful.”

 

“That… also doesn’t really sound like Voltex.”

 

“Before you two continue on this tangent, there’s something else I wanted to say,” Lhikevikk interrupted.

 

“What is it?” Burnmad asked.

 

“Before the conference started, I was approached by a Vo-Matoran… her name was Elittra, I think,” Lhikevikk explained. “She’s a member of Project Mayhem. Tried to get me to join up, but I refused and went to the conference instead. I was wondering if she had contacted either of you?”

 

“No need for her to contact me when Xaeraz is doing a fine job himself,” Ehks muttered.

 

“Xaeraz has contacted you?” Burnmad asked.

 

“He stopped by to… threaten me or something,” Ehks replied. “It was a confusing and not entirely informative visit, to be honest. He didn’t seem particularly bloodthirsty either, which was also, you know, confusing.”

 

“This whole situation is confusing,” Lhikevikk muttered. “We have no idea who we can trust, and whenever our enemies aren’t murdering us one by one, they want us to join them. I’m willing to say that ‘confusing’ is an understatement at this point, actually.”

 

“I agree,” Ehks said wearily. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.”

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

He awoke chained to a wall and immediately began to thrash about in an attempt to free himself, the metal chains clicking and clacking against the wall. He pushed and pulled to no avail, unable to free himself or even loosen the bindings. He felt hazy, as though some sort of wall were blocking him mentally. He was about to scream when the door opened and the form of Xaeraz entered the room, smirking.

 

“How do you feel?” Xaeraz asked.

 

He growled in response. Xaeraz chuckled.

 

“I must admit, I am somewhat enjoying this,” the Fe-Matoran said. “Seeing Voltex reduced to nothing more than a snarling animal is quite the sight! But alas, I must also admit that this was not entirely my intention.”

 

Voltex remained silent, struggling in the chains. He wanted to kill this insolent Matoran in front of him, rip him to shreds, tear him limb from limb-

 

“Ahem.”

 

He paused, glancing back up - Xaeraz was seated in a wooden chair less than a foot away. Still too far to reach, but infuriatingly close. The Fe-Matoran was inspecting him curiously.

 

“Can you speak?” Xaeraz asked.

 

He growled in response. All he knew was instinct.

 

Instinct said that he needed to kill.

 

“Interesting,” Xaeraz murmured. “I had heard about your lightstone, and seeing as we share the same issue, I wondered what it would do for me… however, in my less than adequate mental state, I of course forgot to take into account what side effects you might incur from separating from it. I do apologize. Well, a little bit. I feel far too good right now to truly regret my actions.”

 

The Fe-Matoran reached up to the necklace he was wearing and took it off - half of a glowing white stone was attached to it.

 

“I’ll be keeping the other half,” Xaeraz said, shuddering as his contact with the stone on the necklace stopped. “But you can have this back. It’ll be good enough until you can find a cure… probably. And if you do find a cure, I want you to share it with me. Mata-Nui knows I need it.”

 

The Fe-Matoran carefulled slung the crystal around Voltex’s neck before stepping back; Voltex gasped as the crystal touched him, and then -

 

Clarity.

 

“Feel better?” Xaeraz asked.

 

Shame filled Voltex, as he realized what he had been reduced to without the small crystal - it was soon replaced by anger, and he glared at the twisted Fe-Matoran standing before him. “Let me go.”

 

“In a moment,” Xaeraz said. “I want to know why you’re here.”

 

“I was searching for answers.”

 

“Depends on the answers you’re looking for,” Xaeraz said. “If you want the leader of Project Mayhem… well, technically, it’s me. If you want the Matoran that everybody thinks is the leader, including said Matoran himself… well, Tyler should be by shortly.”

 

“Tyler?”

 

“Tyler Durden,” Xaeraz said. “Le-Matoran, wears a Huna.”

 

“I fought him.”

 

“Yes you did,” Xaeraz said, chuckling. “Now… perhaps you could tell me the truth?”

 

“How about you tell the truth,” Voltex said. “Admit it - you want to know what information I have… and you must also be aware that I will not share it until I’ve been freed.”

 

“And what information do I need, pray tell?”

 

“You want to know who replaced Hero as the mayor of BZ-Koro,” Voltex explained. “I know who it is… so why don’t you unchain me, and perhaps I’ll let you in on the secret.”

 

The Fe-Matoran stared at him for a long moment before silently conceding defeat, and procuring a key to unlock the chains. Once they were gone, Voltex rubbed his wrists and winced. For a brief second, he considered firing the Repulsor Arm, but thought better of it - if he was going to fight the White Council, he was going to need an army… and Project Mayhem would suit his needs nicely.

 

“Cut to the chase,” Xaeraz ordered. “Who is mayor?”

 

Voltex grinned. “I am.”

 

---[Present Day]---

---[burnmad]---

 

Burnmad glanced around at the Matoran that had gathered - Squishy, Xonar, Automaton, Baltarc, Taka Nuvia, Pulse, Portalfig, Lhikevikk, and the healed Canis had all gathered for the execution of Shockwave, who had been incriminated as a servant of the White Council during an attack.

 

“Any last words?” Squishy asked.

 

Shockwave sneered. “Not to you. You’re all fools. You might not know it yet, but the White Council has already won.”

 

“You servants of the White Council have proven time and time again that you’ve got a lot of bark, but no bite,” Burnmad replied. “Sure - some of you have killed innocent Matoran, but in the end, you don’t seem to be making much of a difference.”

 

“Look at you, so high and mighty!” The Vo-Matoran snapped back. “Just you wait, Burnmad. The White Council will emerge victorious eventually.”

 

“And when is ‘eventually’?” Burnmad asked. “Because I thought it was supposed to be the moment they took over Metru-Nui. But that wasn’t the case, was it? Admit it, Shockwave - you’ve chosen the losing side, and now you’re going to pay for it.”

 

“You… you… I…” Shockwave slumped, falling silent; his head fell, and his shoulders started to shake.

 

Squishy turned to Burnmad, confused. “Is he… laughing?”

 

“No,” Portalfig said from behind them. “He’s sobbing.”

 

The sounds became clearer as the minutes passed; Shockwave slowly back up into the wall and slumped to the floor, bawling. The other Matoran glanced at each other, each of them entirely perplexed by the sudden change in character. It was Automaton who finally stepped forward, crouching next to the Vo-Matoran nervously and laying a hand on his shoulder.

 

“What is it?” Automaton asked.

 

Burnmad steadfastly ignored the looks sent his way by Pulse, Portalfig, and Lhikevikk. He stepped forward hesitantly as Automaton waited for an answer, but the Le-Matoran shot him a look that clearly meant for him to remain where he was.

 

“I can’t do it anymore,” Shockwave whispered, the sobs subsiding.

 

“I don’t understand,” Automaton replied. “Can’t do what?”

 

This,” Shockwave stressed, as if that explained anything. “I… no… I can’t do it anymore. They’ll find me. Death is the only escape.”

 

“What?”

 

“Not even death,” Shockwave continued, no longer even acknowledging the other Matoran in the room as he stood, his eyes vacant. “There is no escape. Not from the White Council. Not here, not there, not even in death. They see everything, they know all.”

 

“What’s going on?” Taka Nuvia asked, clearly unnerved.

 

Burnmad shivered. “I don’t know.”

 

Shockwave lurched forward, and for a split second it looked like he would face-plant into the ground; but at the last second he grabbed onto Xonar, clawing back up using the Ba-Matoran and breathing heavily. Xonar shoved him away into Squishy, who stumbled under the weight of the Vo-Matoran before Shockwave hopped away.

 

“Shockwave?” Lhikevikk asked, stepping towards him.

 

“Don’t,” Canis warned, holding out an arm to stop the former comedian. “We don’t know what’s going on with him. Don’t risk it.”

 

Shockwave ignored them all, mumbling rapidly under his breath before suddenly freezing. The room went still; the eeriness was almost tangible.

 

Then the Vo-Matoran whirled around to face Burnmad, his eyes wide.

 

“You know,” he panted. “You know! You know him!”

 

“What?” Burnmad asked, stepping back as Shockwave lurched towards him.

 

“You know him!” Shockwave repeated, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell us?! How could you? You know! You knew who he was!”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Burnmad cried, trying and failing to push the Vo-Matoran away. “Get off!”

 

“You knew where he was from! He could help us! He can help us! How could you?!”

 

BANG!

 

Shockwave slumped forward in Burnmad’s arms, and the Ta-Matoran immediately stepped back, allowing the Vo-Matoran to collapse to the ground with a thud. Blood oozed out of the back of his head from the bullet hole; across the room, Automaton slowly lowered the gun. The group remained standing where they were for a long time before any of them departed.

 

---

 

“Hey Burn, what’s up?” Squishy asked.

 

Automaton had executed Shockwave hours ago, and with the suspicions of the other Matoran still ringing in his ears, Burnmad had not recovered. His voice shook as he turned to his old friend with a sigh.

 

“I think Automaton is working for the White Council,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Man, I don’t know what to do, Squishy.”

 

“Where did you get that idea?” Squishy asked, sounding confused.

 

“The others suspect him,” Burnmad said miserably, “and it’s like… he just killed Shockwave like that. That’s not the Automaton I know! What if I’ve got it all wrong?”

 

“We all make mistakes,” Squishy said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But hey - I think you’re getting worked up for nothing. There’s no way Automaton has betrayed you.”

 

“He’s been trailing Ehks for no reason.”

 

Squishy was silent for a long time, until he finally heaved a great sigh. “Maybe you’re on the right track after all.”

 

“What do we do?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

“Explain,” Xaeraz said.

 

“Hero, Canis and I met together,” Voltex explained, taking the seat offered to him.

 

As soon as Voltex had confessed that he was now the major of BZ-Koro, Xaeraz had grabbed him and down a hallway, into a dimly lit room with four chairs and a wooden stool in the center. Now, the Fe-Matoran was leaning forwards, hands clasped tightly together as he stared at Voltex.

 

“And?”

 

“At first, I wasn’t sure why we were meeting,” Voltex explained. “But then Hero gave me a folder full of paperwork that had already been filled out entirely, naming me as his interim replacement should he be murdered. Well… he died about thirty seconds later. Canis and I barely escaped with our lives - he’s still in serious condition.”

 

“I heard that the Pyro toppled another building,” Xaeraz said. “That was you?”

 

“Yeah… he’s dead too. But someone else was there as well,” Voltex continued, narrowing his eyes as he thought back. “They called themselves the Cryo….”

 

“I have a proposal for you,” Xaeraz said. “Join with us - unite with Project Mayhem. If you wish to, you and those who follow you can remain separate; but together, we could theoretically storm the Coliseum. We have numerous forces waiting for a chance to strike hidden throughout Metru-Nui. We could go to war with the White Council, and take the battle to them.”

 

Voltex thought about it for a long moment before slowly nodding. Xaeraz sat back in his chair, letting out a sigh of relief before tossing a gun over to the Ba-Matoran, who flinched but caught it nonetheless.

 

“There’s someone I want you to meet, now that we’re on the same side and all,” Xaeraz said. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of her, but… well, she seems to want you dead. Just in case she doesn’t remember her promise… you have my permission to kill her. The only useful allies are loyal ones.”

 

Grimly, Voltex nodded, following Xaeraz out of the room. The jumbled Fe-Matoran paused before they entered the basement room where he had battled Tyler in the crowd of Matoran.

 

“Let’s hope this goes well,” the terrorist said.

 

Xaeraz pushed the door open and Voltex followed, barely noticing the worried looks on the faces of Tyler, Valendale and Elittra before he realized who the Matoran kneeling in the middle of the floor with a loaded pistol pointed at his head was Vinylstep. In the blink of an eye Voltex had his own gun pointed at the midnight blue Matoran standing above Vinylstep.

 

“Step away,” he ordered.

 

“Tyler, I thought I asked for you to make sure the introduction would go as smoothly as possible,” Xaeraz said in a resigned tone of voice, sighing.

 

“Nobody decides what I do,” the midnight blue Matoran snapped.

 

“Voltex, this is Agent 64 - she was, up until very recently, a bounty hunter working for the White Council,” Xaeraz explained. “I made her an offer that she couldn’t refuse, and here we are.”

 

“She has my friend at gunpoint,” Voltex said quietly.

 

“You can speak to me directly, you know,” Agent 64 snapped, her eyes flickering over to glare at him.

 

“Then step away,” the Ba-Matoran ordered. “Or I’ll unload six bullets into your skull - and even if you do kill him, I’m willing to bet you’ll be even more dead that he’d be.”

 

“My original orders were to kill him, and to kill you,” Agent 64 said coldly. “Regardless of whom I might be serving with now, I never miss a target. Both of you must die.”

 

“Then you’re going to step away right now and try again later,” Voltex snapped. “Because I will kill you.”

 

They remained standing in a tense standoff for several seconds before, with a snort of disdain, Agent 64 kicked Vinylstep to the floor and shoved her gun into a holster at her hip, her glare never leaving Voltex. For his part, the Ba-Matoran remained alert and on guard, keeping his gun aimed at the bounty hunter.

 

“Your idea of an introduction is lacking,” he said to Xaeraz.

 

“Oh, put your gun down,” Agent 64 said scathingly. “I won’t kill you this instant.”

 

He hesitated for a second before slowly lowering the gun, although he clutched it with a death grip in his right hand.

 

“So, what now?” he asked.

 

“Now we need to head to your base of operations and announce our truce,” Xaeraz said. “I was thinking of having Tyler, Valendale and Elittra accompany you - I’d come myself, but I feel as though meeting me would be best left until after everything has been explained in detail.”

 

“Probably,” Voltex conceded, glancing at the other three Matoran. “But… um… would you happen to have any Av-Matoran?”

 

“You have rather specific needs,” Xaeraz commented.

 

“I…” Voltex’s gaze flickered over to Agent 64. “I just need one.”

 

Xaeraz’s grin was wolfish. “Then you’re in luck - Elittra, looks like you’re with me… but first, go and find MT, would you? It would appear that he is going to be taking an unscheduled trip.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

As the female Vo-Matoran left the room to go search for MT, Voltex approached Vinylstep and crouched beside the De-Matoran, helping him to his feet. For the first few steps, Vinylstep leaned heavily upon him; but soon, the De-Matoran appeared to have recovered, and was able to stand on his own by the time Elittra returned with a silver-clad Av-Matoran in tow.

 

“This is MT,” Xaeraz said.

 

Voltex turned, pausing, his mouth opening. MT stood still, staring in shock.

 

“...is something wrong?” Vinylstep asked.

 

“When you said ‘MT’, I assumed it was some sort of code or nickname,” Voltex said weakly. “I didn’t think that….”

 

“Didn’t think what?” Xaeraz asked.

 

“He didn’t think he’d be meeting a friend lost long ago,” MT answered, stepping forward and offering his hand to the Ba-Matoran. “Hello, old friend. It is good to see you again.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

 

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CHAPTER 11

 

---[Present Day]---

---[Voltex]---

 

As they approached the hospital, Voltex turned back to the rest of the group - Vinylstep, MT, Tyler, Valendale, and Agent 64 - and held up his hand, signalling for them to stop. Once they had all done so, he spoke.

 

“Let Vinyl and I go first,” he said. “We need to let them know about TBK.”

 

“I’d rather not waste time,” said Agent 64, frowning. “If they attack us, I can easily immobilize them. Without killing them, before you protest.”

 

The Ba-Matoran narrowed his eyes, glaring at the midnight blue Matoran for several seconds before sighing and nodding curtly. “Fine. Just… try not to be overly aggressive.”

 

Together, they approached the building. Once inside, Voltex strode across the lobby and over to the reception desk, activating the intercom system and tapping the mic as a quick test before clearing his throat.

 

“I need everyone still alive down here at the entrance please,” he said. “I’m going to warn you all now that anyone who gets aggressive will be struck down. What is about to happen will require patience from all of you. And I promise that you will receive the answers that you seek.”

 

As he deactivated the intercom, the entrance doors swung open, revealing both Xaeraz and Elittra. He groaned in frustration, shaking his head.

 

“What are you doing?!” he seethed. “You’re not supposed to be here yet! They are going to rip us apart if they see you!”

 

“You better hope that they don’t,” Xaeraz said darkly. “We’ve just received word that White Ten is inbound with three airships full of soldiers - I sent out a summons to both Project Mayhem and the BZ-Koro Police Force, and they should arrive soon. Whatever we’re doing here, we need to do it quickly.”

 

“What the karz?” a voice asked quietly from behind him. “Voltex, what is Xaeraz doing here?”

 

He turned to Ehks, holding his hands out. “Just wait! Remember what I said! Don’t kill him!”

 

“Me? Kill Xaeraz?” Ehks barked out a harsh laugh. “No… that’s something I don’t think that I would ever be able to do.”

 

“Alright,” Voltex said, sighing with relief before turning to face the others. “Okay - we need to prepare. Elittra, Valendale, Vinyl - watch the entrances, make sure that everyone who enters stays away from Xaeraz. MT, I want you guarding him. Ehks, I want you guarding me. As for you, Tyler and… whatever your name is, Agent 64… I guess you two can guard the entrance?”

 

The others moved into their positions, just in time to catch both Portalfig and Baltarc as they entered the reception area. Taka Nuvia and Pulse were next, followed closely by Lhikevikk. Xonar, Automaton and Squishy entered next; they each put up a bit of a fuss upon seeing Xaeraz, but were easily contained. Burnmad, upon entry, was clearly furious - although he merely glared at Voltex before crossing his arms and standing next to Squishy.

 

“We’re missing one,” Voltex said after a minute had passed. “Where’s Canis?”

 

“Right here!” the Detective called, stepping through the doors and immediately freezing, a look of horror on his face. “Wait - what is this? What are you doing?”

 

Oh no, Voltex thought.

 

The De-Matoran raised a shaking arm, pointing at Tyler. “You’ve brought the leaders of Project Mayhem here? With some of their most loyal supporters and allies? What were you thinking?”

 

“Let me explain!” Voltex snapped, stalking into the center of the room with Ehks at his side. “Listen closely, because we don’t have much time. The White Council has forces en route to our location as we speak, and we need this settled before they get here.”

 

“Hurry it up then,” Burnmad prompted.

 

“When Hero died, he named me as the interim mayor of BZ-Koro, handing me control of the city and its police force,” Voltex explained. “When I found Valendale in the jail, he took me to Xaeraz and Tyler - the leaders of Project Mayhem. We worked out an agreement to ally together and unite as one single army, to take on the White Council. The plan is to go to war - and while I will fully understand if some of you do not support this, you do need to understand that we need your help for this next battle if we’re going to survive at all.”

 

“Where’s TBK?” Pulse asked.

 

“He was killed by the Cryo,” Voltex said quietly. “Now, who’s with me?”

 

“That’s it?” Automaton asked. “You’re just gonna speak to us for ten seconds and then expect us to just follow you? After you’ve started going crazy? After you’ve started working with Xaeraz?”

 

“I’m not going crazy anymore,” Voltex replied, “and like I said - you don’t need to agree with me. I just need your help for the battle coming.”

 

Squishy stepped forward, shoving Valendale aside and walking up to Voltex, stopping a foot away and staring at him intently. Ehks stepped forward, glancing between the two Matoran nervously until the Matoran of Plantlife spoke.

 

“You want us to fight against the White Council with you,” Squishy said quietly, “while working alongside Xaeraz? I’m afraid that I will have to disagree.”

 

In the blink of an eye, the Bo-Matoran lunged forward, a knife flashing into his hand and glinting in the light; Squishy swung at Voltex, but the Ba-Matoran was pushed aside. As he fell to the floor, Voltex watched as Squishy drove the knife into Ehks’s chest just below the silver-clad Matoran’s neck and then ripped it back out. Ehks stumbled back and collapsed to the floor. Voltex was at the Av-Matoran’s side in a flash, his eyes wide with horror.

 

“Ehks, man, you gotta live!” he cried. “Come on, man!”

 

“No use,” Ehks groaned, shaking his head weakly. “L-listen, I’m… I left behind a project… finish it. Find me.”

 

Anything else Ehks wanted to say was lost as Voltex was thrown aside; he landed face-first on the floor with a grunt. He started to push himself up but was pushed back down and kicked onto his back; he stared up at Squishy; a sadistic smile was on the Bo-Matoran’s face as he idly spun his bloody knife in his hand.

 

“There’s no hope for those who fight the White Council,” the Bo-Matoran said. “I’m doing you a f-”

 

He was abruptly cut off by a spear made of what looked to be ice suddenly sprouting from his chest. The knife clattered to the floor as Squishy groaned, slowly turning to face his attacker; Agent 64 stood there.

 

“Idiot,” she said.

 

Another blast of ice froze Squishy’s head entirely; the Bo-Matoran collapsed and his head shattered upon contact with the floor. Voltex stared up at Agent 64 in horror.

 

“You’re the Cryo,” he whispered.

 

“I am,” she said, staring back at him.

 

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Voltex roared, shooting to his feet and leaping at the midnight blue Ko-Matoran who dodged away.

 

“Try harder, fail more,” she said, sprinting towards the exit.

 

“Stop her!” Voltex yelled.

 

It was too late - the Cryo had vanished out of the hospital. With another furious roar, Voltex sprinted after her; however, what he saw upon exiting had him skidding to a halt, immediately forgetting about Agent 64.

 

“Uh oh,” he whispered.

 

In the sky above the area outside the hospital, three airships emblazoned with the signature stark white “WC” of the White Council hovered, each one slowly descending towards the ground. Voltex remained where he was as the rest of the Matoran exited the hospital, each one stopping behind him except for Xaeraz and Burnmad, who both stopped on either side of him.

 

“When is our backup arriving?” Voltex asked.

 

“Apparently not soon enough,” Xaeraz said darkly.

 

“We need a plan,” Burnmad said, glancing to them. “So?”

 

“You said that it’s White Ten coming, right?” Voltex asked, looking to Xaeraz, who nodded in confirmation. “Alright. Let me talk to him - and when I give the signal… you guys make sure that all of Karzahni breaks loose.”

 

“What’s the signal going to be?” Burnmad asked.

 

Voltex narrowed his eyes, glaring at the airships as they each touched down. “Trust me… you’ll know.”

 

The airships were each facing the other direction; as the rear hangar doors each hissed open, Voltex stepped forward, approaching the transports while Burnmad and Xaeraz retreated to inform the rest of the group about the plan. The Ba-Matoran stood at the halfway point between the hospital and the lead airship with his arms crossed, tapping the Repulsor Arm as the first hangar door clanked, hitting the ground. A squadron of Matoran soldiers clad in gunmetal green armor marched out, with an all white figure at the head. White Ten held up his hand once they were all out of the airship; the soldiers remained where they were as the Turaga approached Voltex alone.

 

“Ah, my dear Voltex,” White Ten said, a smile appearing on his face, his arms opened wide. “How good to see you! And what a welcome you have prepared for us, too! Leading the rest of our enemies to me right now like herding sheep to the pen… even if you seem to have confused some of our allies into the mix as well. Bravo, I say, bravo!”

 

“What are you here for?” Voltex asked firmly.

 

The White Turaga frowned, his gaze darkening. “We are here to claim BZ-Koro for the White Council. With its mayor dead, this city is in need of a new leader.”

 

“They have a new leader,” Voltex said, stepping forward. “You’re speaking to him. And I will not allow you to annex my city. You have one chance to leave now before I make you regret coming here.”

 

White Ten chuckled. “So much like White One, you are… and yet, you lack the capacity to follow up on your threats. That is the key difference between the two of you, it seems. BZ-Koro is ours - and we will be taking those that stand behind you as prisoners. I shall allow you to walk free as a reward.”

 

“Not happening,” the Ba-Matoran replied, shaking his head. “Take your bribes elsewhere - and since you’ve made your intentions clear, I’ll have you know that to BZ-Koro, you have made a declaration of war.”

 

“War, eh?” White Ten whispered, grinning crookedly. “Very well. If it is war you want… then war we shall have!”

 

The White Turaga began to turn, moving to signal his soldiers - and that was when Voltex made his move. Silently, he swung his arm forward, aiming; and willed the Repulsor Arm to fire. The blast caught White Ten in the back of the head, sending him sprawling into the dirt. He did not move. Behind Voltex, a rallying cry could be heard rising from the other Matoran as they charged forward.

 

“Oh yeah,” Voltex whispered, grinning as he charged forward.

 

It took White Ten’s forces a moment too long to realize that waiting for orders was no longer an option; Voltex took aim with the Repulsor Arm and fired several blasts at all three squads, sending almost every single soldier flying or scurrying for cover. With what appeared to be roughly ninety troops scattered, the others were able to infiltrate their ranks, and those that lacked weapons stole them, immediately attacking. Voltex smirked, watching the battle unfold, until he was tackled to the ground.

 

“What the-”

 

He was cut off as his face slammed into the ground; he rolled aside, throwing his attacker off and narrowing his eyes, recognizing Agent 64. The midnight blue Ko-Matoran frowned, rolling so that she was kneeled on one knee and aiming a blaster in his direction, firing; the Ba-Matoran ducked under the blast, taking aim with the Repulsor Arm and firing. While Agent 64 dodged, he jumped back to his feet and lunged towards her, grabbing her ice katana and activating it as she threw him away.

 

“This is for killing TBK!” he yelled.

 

“Revenge will get you nowhere,” she said, activating another ice katana. “But very well - let’s duel, you and I.”

 

With a cry, the Ba-Matoran charged forward, swinging the katana in a wide arc that Agent 64 easily parried, kicking him in the stomach and causing him to stumble back. He quickly shifted into a defensive maneuver as she pressed the attack, blasting at her with the Repulsor Arm to buy himself time as he dodged away and re-oriented himself, panting for breath. With his mouth set in a grim line, he once again attacked, pressing Agent 64 up one of the ramps into an airship.

 

Her eyes widened, looking at something behind him. “Look out!”

 

Instinctively, he turned to look, realizing even as he did so that he had made a grave error. He had not even completed the turn when his katana went skittering across the airship and a solid sphere of ice crashed into the side of his head, sending him sprawling across the ground. As he slowly pushed himself up, shaking his head to clear it, Agent 64 approached, taking aim again.

 

“You’re not ready,” she said, although it sounded more like she was speaking to herself. “Perhaps Control was correct after all.”

 

He shut his eyes, preparing for the end.

 

It did not come. Something thudded to the ground beside him and his eyes flashed open just in time to see MT rolling away from Agent 64, having tackled her to the ground. The midnight blue Ko-Matoran fired a blast of ice directly at the silver Av-Matoran, but Voltex destroyed it with the Repulsor Arm. Realizing that she was facing opponents on two sides, Agent 64’s gaze narrowed before she threw a sphere of ice at the ground directly beneath her and vanished as a blinding surge of snow exploded out. Voltex was sent flying through the air, tumbling across the ground. He blinked, slowly staggering to his feet.

 

“You have made a grave mistake,” a voice growled from behind him.

 

Voltex turned to see White Ten - very, very angry, and very very alive.

 

---[burnmad]---

 

Burnmad stood next to Automaton, both of them with their backs to the side of one of the airships, both with the barrel of a gun pointed at their chest. Xonar glanced from one to the other with a smirk, shaking his head, a laugh bubbling out of him.

 

“You know…” the traitor said, “I honestly wasn’t expecting to be the last one left alive. I really wasn’t. When I poisoned Locke and he went and croaked minutes later, I thought I was screwed - you have no idea how relieved I was when PT took that bullet for me. Of course, since then, I’ve tried to lay low; bide my time. Make sure that I stay alive, you know? But for Squishy to die before I did… it reminded me that I haven’t really been doing my job. So I suppose it’s high time I started.”

 

The Matoran of Gravity shrugged. “As for why you two… no particular reason, I guess. Other than that the others no longer have a reason to suspect Automaton, and it’s always nice to get rid of the leaders - and since Ehks was taken care of, and Voltex will be lucky to survive another five minutes, that just leaves you, Burn.”

 

“They have Xaeraz,” Burnmad said.

 

Xonar laughed then. “I pity you - I truly do.”

 

His gaze darkened immediately.

 

BANG!

 

Automaton slumped to the ground; Burnmad dared not make a sound or a move to mourn his fallen friend, lest the triggerhappy psychopath in front of him shoot first and ask questions later. Xonar stared at the Le-Matoran’s body for several seconds before sighing.

 

“They all look so empty after they’re gone, don’t they?” he observed. “Rather a shame. I’d rather be able to enjoy a last tortured look of horror, but they tend to die too fast, especially when you use bullets. I much prefer poison.”

 

“Well, I hate to disappoint you,” a new voice cut in, “but there won’t be any ‘last tortured look of horror’ on your face, either.”

 

BANG!

 

The traitor did not have time to even make a sound as the bullet flew through his head, exiting right between his eyes and missing Burnmad by inches. The traitorous Matoran of Gravity fell to the ground with a thud, revealing the De-Matoran Vinylstep.

 

“Thanks,” Burnmad said, letting out a breath he had not realized that he was holding.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Vinylstep replied, turning away. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

 

As Vinylstep vanished back into the fight, the Ta-Matoran cast a quick glance around the battlefield, pausing as a bloodied Tyler, limping badly, met his gaze and staggered towards him. As the Le-Matoran approached, he fell; Burnmad caught him and helped him back to his feet.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

 

“Xaeraz,” Tyler gasped.

 

As if summoned by the sound of his name, the jumbled form of Xaeraz appeared with a feral cry, ripping Burnmad and Tyler apart; the Fe-Matoran kicked Burnmad away before turning to Tyler, holding the Le-Matoran up by his head with one hand. With a yell, Xaeraz squeezed, crushing Tyler’s head and then tossing the leader of Project Mayhem aside, his eyes already dark. Panting wildly, his eyes wide and deranged, Xaeraz whirled around to face the still stunned Burnmad, lying on the ground. As the Fe-Matoran lunged towards him, Burnmad kicked his former friend away and scrambled to his feet, grabbing a White Council soldier and pushing them towards Xaeraz. The Fe-Matoran ripped the other Matoran apart with ease, but it bought Burnmad the time he needed to grab a shotgun from a fallen soldier and take aim. Xaeraz paused.

 

“Don’t make me do this,” Burnmad said quietly. “Come back, Xaeraz. Whatever has happened to you, come back.”

 

“No… nobody can help me!” Xaeraz screeched. “It’s all gone!”

 

The terrorist leaped into the air, pouncing at Burnmad; the Ta-Matoran stepped back, shifting his aim quickly, and fired at point blank range, blowing Xaeraz’s head apart. He shoved the Fe-Matoran’s body off as it landed on him and turned, firing another round into a White Council soldier. As the soldier dropped, he was momentarily granted a view of Voltex brawling with White Ten at the entrance to one of the other airships. He moved to approach, but was blocked by another soldier, who disarmed him. Frowning, Burnmad punched the soldier in the face and tackled them to the ground.

 

---[Voltex]---

 

Voltex staggered back further into the airship at the impact from the blow, just barely dodging another punch and swiping with his foot in an attempt to trip White Ten that failed. The White Turaga landed another punch in his stomach and the Ba-Matoran grunted as he fell onto a bench at the side. He pushed himself away and shoved White Ten forward, causing the White Turaga to dive headfirst into the wall, buying him enough time for his head to clear. As White Ten turned back to him with a snarl, he fired a blast from the Repulsor Arm that White Ten dodged at the last second.

 

“What was that name I saw in your files by accident that one time?” he asked casually, in an attempt to infuriate the White Turaga further. “I think it was ‘Zed’? Do you mind if I call you Zed?”

 

“My name is White Ten!” the White Turaga spat. “I gave up that name long ago!”

 

“Zed it is, then,” Voltex said with a grin.

 

With a roar, White Ten lunged forward, tackling him to the floor. Voltex threw him off, sparing a quick glance outside to see the BZ-Koro Police Force and several members of Project Mayhem joining the battle.

 

“Look at that!” he called. “Our backup has arrived! You’ve lost, Zed.”

 

White Ten halted where he stood, following Voltex’s gaze outside. With a sneer, the Turaga backed away quickly, a door hissing shut behind him.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Voltex muttered, racing after him.

 

He blasted the door apart and shouldered his way through the debris, sprinting after White Ten as the Turaga ran through the tiny hallway and skidded to a stop in the cockpit, rapidly pressing buttons and pulling levers. Somewhere beneath them, the engines began to rumble to life; Voltex turned and aimed the Repulsor Arm, blasting the mechanism that had started to shut the hangar door. It broke apart, leaving the hangar open, and he turned back, sprinting to the cockpit as the airship began to lift off the ground.

 

“Not so fast!” he snapped, tackling White Ten against the console.

 

The Turaga threw him off and increased the thruster power; Voltex landed on top of the steering controls and the airship pitched to the side. Hurriedly, the Ba-Matoran pushed himself off and the airship righted itself, rising higher into the sky as he punched White Ten with all his might, sending the Turaga once known as Zed sprawling.

 

“Computer,” White Ten called, “set a course for Metru-Nui!”

 

[ACKNOWLEDGED]

 

As the airship turned towards its destination and began to hover in that direction, Voltex stepped forwards and kicked White Ten in the face as the Turaga began to stand, knocking him back to the floor. With disgust on his face, Voltex waited as White Ten shakily stood back to his feet until punching him again, slamming White Ten to the floor.

 

“You leave those loyal to you for dead,” he snapped, shaking his head. “No. I will not allow that. You do not get to leave this island.”

 

He turned back to the controls and grabbed the square steering device and spun it to the left; the airship tilted as it began to turn sharply back towards BZ-Koro, the manual input cancelling out White Ten’s order. Voltex turned and kneed the Turaga in the head as he opened his mouth to reverse the change before focusing again on the controls and pushing a lever forwards.

 

Through the glass windshield hundreds of feet below, the hospital of BZ-Koro could only just be made out. The airship pitched forward into a dive, throwing both Voltex and White Ten back; the Ba-Matoran grabbed White Ten in a headlock and threw him back into the cockpit before jumping after him, firing a blast at the windshield with the Repulsor Arm and shattering it. Landing on the controls, he grabbed White Ten by the neck and threw him out; however, the Turaga grabbed his ankle, dragging the Ba-Matoran with him.

 

The wind whipped at them as they began to fall through the sky, the airship plummeting beneath them. The two figures brawled in the air, tumbling towards their doom.

 

The airship crashed down below.

 

As the ground rushed up to meet them, with only seconds left, Voltex twisted until he was on top; one hand wrapped around White Ten’s face, and the other with the Repulsor Arm ready to fire.

 

Three…

 

Two…

 

One!

 

Just as White Ten’s head hit the ground, Voltex fired a blast as strong as he could at the Turaga’s neck, severing it and beheading White Ten while also blasting himself horizontally through the air. He slammed into the airship and was knocked aside, tumbling across the battlefield until he finally flew up into the air one final time and then slammed down on his back. Everything went dark.

To Be Continued.

 

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Edited by Voltex Oblige
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EPILOGUE

 

---[burnmad]---

 

The Ta-Matoran stood in the cockpit of the airship, piloted by one of the Matoran from Project Mayhem that used to transport goods for the White Council. Behind him stood Taka Nuvia and Elittra; the former the only other remaining member of the extraction team, and the latter nominated by Voltex as the new leader of Project Mayhem after the battle. The Ba-Matoran had seemed disappointed when Burnmad revealed Xaeraz’s fate, although he had not been surprised, noting that he had expected it to happen sooner or later. Whether Voltex was merely bluffing, Burnmad did not know - but it had seemed to unsettle the Ba-Matoran, as though Voltex believed that it could happen to him as well.

 

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Taka Nuvia asked.

 

“Who, Voltex?” Burnmad replied, shrugging when Taka Nuvia nodded. “Who knows… he’s got Vinylstep and Valendale there to help him. And after what he’s gone through… if he trusts somebody, so do I. They’ll be fine. Voltex will activate the Reanimator, and get us a bunch of allies back from the dead… hopefully.”

 

“And if he fails?” Elittra asked, uncharacteristically subdued.

 

Burnmad turned to face them. “Then we’ll make do. I know there are many Matoran in Metru-Nui unhappy with the White Council - members of Project Mayhem, fans of Voltex, even some Matoran from the old Resistance. We’ll gather them all, and once we have our army, we’ll storm the Coliseum and take Metru-Nui back.”

 

---[Voltex]---

 

Voltex stood at the entrance to the Conference Hall, staring at the airships as they slowly turned towards Metru-Nui. Everyone that was still alive from Project Mayhem and BZ-Koro (of whom the number was depressingly small) had piled inside, and now they were enroute to the city of legends, with the intent of launching a war campaign against the White Council.

 

Well, almost everyone.

 

The Ba-Matoran turned to face the once-majestic Conference Hall, nodding at both Vinylstep and Valendale to follow him as he stepped inside. Adjusting the Reanimator upon his back, Voltex slowly glanced around before passing the Reanimator over to Vinylstep.

 

“I… I need a few minutes,” Voltex said. “You guys search around, test any of the bodies you find. There’s a couple things that I need to do.”

 

He waited until the De-Matoran and Ko-Matoran were out of sight before heading off.

 

---

 

First, he visited Unit, standing over his former friend’s body. The head was gone; Voltex was fairly certain that it had been entirely obliterated by the blast from the Repulsor Arm. He stood there in silence for several minutes before sighing and turning away, shaking his head.

 

---

 

Eventually, he made the rounds to Zakaro and JiMing, staring down at their bodies on the floor. He crouched next to the former, resting a hand on his mask.

 

“I’m so, so sorry, Zakaro,” he whispered. “What I did… regardless of your actions, was ruthless and cruel. You should not have died - I should have found another way. There must have been another way.”

 

He turned to JiMing.

 

“As for you…” he trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing. “I’m sorry you died. I truly am - you didn’t deserve any of this. And the Repulsor Arm… it’s saved my life more times than I can count - and occasionally the lives of others, too. In a way, I guess you’re kind of living on through it. I-”

 

He paused, staring at the body of JiMing. Narrowing his eyes, he slowly rolled the Ta-Matoran onto his back and froze. There, in the center of the Ta-Matoran’s chest, his heartlight was pulsing. It was faint, and barely noticeable - but still there nonetheless.

 

JiMing was alive, some way or another.

 

“I think it’s time we brought you back, then,” Voltex whispered, reaching forward. Carefully, he gathered the Ta-Matoran in his arms. “I hope you’re ready to go to war.”

 

---

 

When he found Vinylstep and Valendale, they were crouched over the corpse of Shadowhawk. Voltex carefully laid the body of JiMing at their feet, pulling the Reanimator from Vinylstep’s grasp and activating it on the Ta-Matoran. He ignored the De-Matoran’s attempts to get his attention, staring at JiMing as the Reanimator healed the Ta-Matoran’s wounds.

 

It took two minutes for JiMing to start stirring. It took five more for him to open his eyes, staring up at Voltex with confusion.

 

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

 

Voltex grinned, deactivating the Reanimator and tossing it to Valendale, who stumbled but caught it nonetheless. He offered a hand to JiMing and pulled the Ta-Matoran to his feet.

 

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” Voltex said, smiling. “It’s good to have you back. I’d love to fill you in on everything now, but I’m gonna have to ask that you trust me when I promise that you’ll learn everything in due time.”

 

JiMing nodded, and the Ba-Matoran finally turned to Vinylstep. The De-Matoran pointed down at Shadowhawk.

 

His heartlight pulsed once.

 

“Let’s put him out of his misery,” JiMing said, stepping forward.

 

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Voltex said, blocking the Ta-Matoran with his arm, staring down at Shadowhawk. “Remember that you’re aren’t up to speed yet - as much as I dislike the idea, we will need Shadowhawk. He was one of the best fighters in Bionifight for a reason. We could use his skills. We need his skills.”

 

“Shall we revive him, then?” asked Vinylstep.

 

“Do it,” Voltex ordered, shooting a warning glance over to JiMing, who glared at him but retreated nonetheless.

 

Valendale stepped forward and activated the Reanimator; the blue beam connected to Shadowhawk, and the four Matoran watched as the bullet wound in the Shadow Matoran’s stomach healed over and he began to breathe once more. After a moment, Shadowhawk’s eyes opened; he blinked once before glancing to Voltex, a glint in his eye.

 

“Hello there,” he said.

 

“That’s an interesting tool you have,” a voice said from behind them.

 

The four Matoran standing whirled around to face the newcomer; Shadowhawk pushed himself up into a sitting position in order to follow what was going on. Voltex stepped forward as a very familiar Matoran clad in silver armor stepped into the light.

 

“No way,” JiMing whispered. “That’s impossible.”

 

“No…” Voltex said, disbelief in his tone. “No, you’re dead. You’ve been dead for years.”

 

“Indeed I have, and indeed, I still am,” said Fighty. “We have much to discuss.”

 

---[Agent 64]---

 

She stood outside the office, seated upon a couch that she had always felt was far too comfy, even though she knew its purpose. If those visiting with Control directly were relaxed and comfortable, they were liable to slip up and reveal things they should not - and Control had always operated on information that they should not know.

 

A small intercom next to the door crackled to life. “Come in.”

 

With a deep breath, she removed her helmet, revealing her Kanohi Kualsi. Leaving the helmet upon the couch, she slowly stepped into the room; the door slid open to let her in and slid shut once she had crossed the threshold. A fire popped and crackled in the fireplace situated within the wall opposite her; seated in a large armchair facing the fire was Control. Even within this office, she had seen Control so few times that she had difficulty remembering their face. Undoubtedly, that was the intention.

 

“It has been many months since we heard from you last, Agent 64,” Control said.

 

On the wall to her right, a calendar flashed to life, splitting into the last three years, revealing every date that she had communicated with control. It began when she had first been hired on by the White Council; and as time went on, a clear trend had developed. She was indeed speaking with Control less and less, culminating now in what appeared to be a five month gap.

 

“This is… disappointing, to say the least,” Control continued. “I do believe that we authorized the removal of Agent 19 so that you could complete one of your assignments more effectively, and thus garner more trust from the White Council?”

 

“Yes,” she said stiffly.

 

“Agent 19 was one of our best agents,” Control said. “He ranked within our top five - until you killed him, of course. It was all supposed to be part of the plan. Part of our grand scheme. But that plan relies on communication, Agent 64. You were meant to serve the White Council - you were not meant to help them win. And that is precisely what you have done.”

 

“With all due respect, there wasn’t much I could do,” she replied. “Not unless you wanted the White Council to execute me.”

 

“That would be a loss that I should prefer not to take,” Control agreed. “However, your actions on BZ-Koro have cost us both time and allies. This war must be allowed to start; if it does not, we shall never be sure of an opportunity to initiate the next step of our plan. While the White Council and their enemies are distracted with battle… that is when we shall step in. Have I made myself clear?”

 

“Crystal.”

 

“Good. From now on, I require you to contact us at least once a week - and if you must kill anyone, you will receive permission from me first. If I deem them too valuable to kill… then you will have to start being more creative.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Control said. “Go now, Agent 64 - after all, there is a role that you must continue to play, and you shall be playing it for quite some time, I expect… but sooner or later, the time shall come. And when it does, we shall strike.”

 

---[Ehks]---

 

://CODING

://ACTIVATING REVIVAL SEQUENCE

://TRANSPORTING <XARON>

 

At first, everything went black - and before he had fully registered what Squishy had done to him, Ehks knew he was dead.

 

Then, as he had known all along, he vanished somewhere else.

 

He reappeared in a room with reflective, black walls, lying on a silver floor. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, glancing around and flinching at the sight of the Fe-Matoran Sumiki leaning against the wall three feet away.

 

“Hey,” the former CEO of Hat Enterprises said casually, waving at him. “So you’re stuck here too, huh? I’m sure they’ll be by to pick us up shortly.”

 

“Who’s ‘they’?” Ehks asked.

 

As if on cue, a hidden panel in the wall opposite them slid open to reveal two familiar white figures. The door hissed shut behind them.

 

“Well, well, well,” White One said, his face covered by a helmet as usual. “Would you look at that? I must thank you for gracing us with your presence, Thirteen. Welcome aboard.”

 

“Welcome aboard what?” Sumiki interrupted, seemingly not intimidated by the White Council leader’s presence. “Where are we?”

 

Ehks sighed, answering in White One’s stead. “It’s called the Red Star. It’s where we go when we die… usually. The system is supposed to revive us back down below, but… a few years ago, the White Council hijacked it.”

 

“Indeed we did, and a good thing too, or White Ten here might not have gotten past entrance security,” White One replied. “Now, for you, Sumiki… I’m afraid you have disappointed us a few too many times. I shall have mercy on you - you shall be allowed to survive… for now. You shall be offered a wonderful spot in one of our maximum security cells.”

 

“How lovely,” Sumiki deadpanned.

 

“As for you, Thirteen…” White One continued, and Ehks could almost hear the sadistic grin through the White Council leader’s helmet, “we have one final offer to rejoin our ranks. And before you refuse, please remember that death up here is permanent. Once we kill you - if we kill you, that is - you will not return.”

 

Ehks considered the options, although they were all terrible. Joining the White Council was the best of the lot, however - if he could figure out a way to escape, he might be able to provide valuable intelligence to the Resistance. Gulping, he asked, “what do I need to do?”

 

White Ten smiled then, stepping forward as the panel slid open behind them again, and two guards tossed a familiar Ta-Matoran to the floor.

 

“Your task is simple,” White One said, tossing a gun to him. “Prove your loyalty to us - kill this Matoran right here. Right now.”

 

“We heard that the two of you were starting to form a sort of friendship on BZ-Koro,” White Ten explained, laughing darkly. “We thought you might like the privilege of ending that budding friendship prematurely.”

 

Locke coughed, slowly glancing up to Ehks, who stared back, horrified - although on the outside, he kept his features neutral, knowing it meant the difference between survival and death..

 

“Well?” White Ten prompted, eyes narrowing. “We don’t have all day, Thirteen.”

 

I’m so sorry, Ehks thought, staring at Locke.

 

Betrayal shone in the Ta-Matoran’s eyes. Locke reached up towards him, starting to beg, to plead -

 

BANG.

 

Locke’s body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud, blood oozing from a hole right between his eyes, still shining with a final betrayal. Ehks - no, White Thirteen - hardened his gaze, refusing to let any emotions show through as he glanced over to White One and White Ten, who was smiling in satisfaction.

 

“Very good,” White One whispered.

 

White Ten smirked. “Welcome back to the Council, White Thirteen.”

 

“Thank you,” White Thirteen said, swallowing thickly. “I’ll do my best.”

END.

 

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