TNTOS

Well, good luck with the railroad line. Hope it works out for you. -TNTOS-

I know I've posted this gif like five times already, but it has to be posted again: Welcome back, Bionicle. -TNTOS-

Just added a new content block to my blog that features links to all ten of the stories from my The Biological Chronicle series of flash fiction. Been meaning to do this for a while, but just been too busy and lazy to take the time to do it. You'll have to scroll down to see it, however, as it's at the very bottom of my blog. -TNTOS-

Do it. Or I'll come to your house and play it for you . -TNTOS-

I was only seven-years-old at the time, so unlike some people, I don't remember where I was on that day. But still, it was a tragic event that I hope is never repeated here in the US--or any other country--ever again. I hope also that the families and friends of the victims are doing well after all this time. -TNTOS-

And just as I finished my fanfics. Thanks a lot, LEGO . It's not you. I'm seeing a lot of old faces I haven't seen in years coming out of the woodwork. With so many old members returning and the inevitable influx of new members joining, I'd say BZP is going to see a ton of activity, maybe even more activity than we've had in the four years since Bionicle ended. -TNTOS-

There is only one gif good enough to describe my feelings about this right now: http://i.imgur.com/7drHiqr.gif Also, the title of this topic reminds me of "HOENN CONFIRMED!" which this thing is kind of similar to actually. -TNTOS- Edit: Please link to images over 750 kB. -Wind-

I know I posted this gif elsewhere, but you said it, so: -TNTOS-

http://i.imgur.com/7drHiqr.gif ALL ABOARD THE HYPE TRAIN! -TNTOS- Edit: Please link to images over 750 kB. -Wind-

THE HYPE TRAIN IS OFF THE RAILS. YOU CAN'T DENY IT NOW. Unless you're a spoilsport, of course, but CHOO CHOO AWAY ANYWAY! -TNTOS- Edit: Also:

I forgot you were writing a sequel to Cenotaphs. So I was a bit surprised when I saw this on the forums this morning, but it was a pleasant surprise. So far, this epic is off to a great start. I like how you're writing about Jovan and his team. I don't know of a lot of fics that do that, so this should be interesting to read. The only issue I really have so far is how you fail to capitalize the name of the element in the titles of Toa. For example, you write "Toa of water," even though the correct capitalization is "Toa of Water." A small problem with an easy fix, but it really stands out to me and I don't see any reason why you'd write it that way (although if you do have a reason for it, then ignore this). Anyway, I'll definitely be following this epic. Are you going to have a regular release schedule for each chapter, like a chapter a week or something? Just curious. -TNTOS-

Good luck. If you need any tips on good resources for self/indie publishing (like the best programs to format ebooks, where to find good covers, etc.), feel free to drop me a PM sometime and I'll be happy to help. I've sometimes wondered whether I would be more well-known if I had gone to the various LEGO fan conventions (BrickFair, Brick Fiesta, etc.) that everyone on BZP seems to go to and befriended the members who attend. I've been planning to go to Brick Fiesta at some point, seeing as it's in Texas, which is where I live, but due to a severe lack of funds I doubt I'll be able to do that for another year or two at least. *Shrug* Like I said, attaining universal popularity has never been the primary motivation for writing. I will admit, though, that I have, at times, gotten jealous of other writers' success in the popularity department. It's silly, but it's also true. I've seen other writers--even newer writers--post a story and suddenly get a lot of attention from everyone and I'm just sitting here thinking, "What are they doing that I'm not? Don't I write at least as well as them? Haven't I written anything good enough to be that popular?" Sometimes, they're more popular because they write better than me. Sometimes it's because they've written on a subject that interests a lot of people. Sometimes it's because they've taken an old idea and written about it in a new way. Sometimes it's because the staff featured their story on the front page. And sometimes it's a mixture of all of the above, with a bit of luck thrown in for good measure. No real way to tell what will and won't be a success right off the bat, but it's clearly never happened to me. All I know is that jealousy is a highly toxic emotion, especially for writers. I know that jealousy has caused me to think unfair things towards genuinely good writers who, for reasons generally outside of their control, suddenly became popular. I know enough not to let my jealousy influence my decisions or feelings toward those writers (thankfully), but it still sucks to feel jealous of other people, especially if they happen to be your friends. Another bad thing about jealousy is how it causes you to lose perspective. None of my fics have been breakout hits within the Bionicle fandom, which depresses me sometimes, but then I remember that I've received loads of positive comments and praise from a bunch of different people over the years and feel better about myself. If I let jealousy control me, I'd never write at all and never believe that anyone likes my work, which would be both false and an insult to the people who have honestly enjoyed my work. I go a step further by saving everything I've written (yes, including previous drafts) on two separate thumb drives. In fact, I've made a habit of backing up my work after every writing session, just so I don't lose anything to a freak power outage or computer meltdown or whatever. I know of one professional writer who backs up all of his work on two thumb drives (which he carries on his body at all times) and on a third one that he stores outside of his house in case of a house fire. You can never be too safe with your work, in my opinion. Exactly. This just happened to me with a fanfic I've been following. It's especially annoying when the fic in question has more than ten chapters. I wonder if this problem could be mitigated by fanfic writers including a brief "Last time on ..." at the beginning of each chapter. I never did it myself, but it seems to me that including something like that could really help bring new readers up to speed and help old readers remember what happened last time, assuming there is a big gap between the last chapter and the newest one. But ... that's what makes fanfics so fun. I have a feeling that if people started writing fanfics based on my works, I might just encourage them to write the craziest ones they could purely for the lulz. I'd never read them (for the reasons I mentioned in the post), but I'd at least know people were having fun anyway. -TNTOS-

Joan Rivers, a well-known comedienne and TV icon, just passed away. I've never been a huge fan of Rivers and only really know about her because of her time on the Celebrity Apprentice, but this is sad news just the same. First Robin Williams, now Joan Rivers. Dang. -TNTOS-

Thanks . I was aiming to make it feel settled, as you said, and it looks like I succeeded. Sorry, but this is my last epic, at least for the foreseeable future. I'm currently trying to put more focus on my original, non-Bionicle works in order to become a professional, full-time fiction writer. Since fanfiction doesn't make me any money, I'm not writing it anymore. Basically I'm just going to be writing original stuff from now on, which is what will help my career in the long run. But glad you liked it anyway. Really appreciate it. BTW, if you're interested in reading some of my original works, you can just send me a PM and I'll point you to the ebook stores where you can buy them. -TNTOS-

Just checked it out. Looks like more silly fandom drama to me. Nothing to see here. -TNTOS-

I'm afraid to ask, but is there any specific incident you're thinking of? Or are you just talking in general? -TNTOS-

(NOTE: I'd recommend grabbing some popcorn and a soda because you're in for a long read. A long read.) As of yesterday, I posted the epilogue to my final Bionicle epic, In the End. Y'all know that already, of course (or at least my regular readers do, anyway). And I did it all before reaching my eighth year anniversary as a BZP member, which will be in October, which is next month. Coincidentally, I started writing Bionicle fanfics eight years ago, too. Eight years ... dang, that's long. During that time, I wrote over 50 epics, comedies, and short stories combined. Some were good, some weren't, but all taught me something about writing that I would never have learned otherwise. Through writing fanfiction, I have learned what my strengths and weaknesses as a writer are, thanks in no small part to the comments and critiques I received from my readers and fellow writers. And I am of course still growing and learning because the learning never ends in writing no matter how long you keep at it. I sometimes like to think of myself as the most prolific fanfic writer on BZP, though I honestly have no idea if that's true. I don't know of any other writers on here who have written and posted over 50 fanfics on this site, so until someone proves me wrong, I feel pretty comfortable holding that title*. At the same time, I've never been a very well-known writer. In spite of my longevity and prolific career, I still feel more or less unknown to the general BZP community. None of my works have really been breakout hits. I've never had even one short story featured on the front page (granted, most BZP writers haven't, seeing as they've only started featuring fan projects there fairly recently, but I still haven't had anything featured and probably won't, now that I'm done with fanfiction). I do have some regular readers, true, and I am thankful for every one of them, but it sure seems like most BZPers have no idea who I am. Which isn't a problem, really, as I write for the love of it and not for fame, but my apparent lack of fame does cross my mind from time to time. *Shrug* Whatever. It's just fanfiction. No big deal. I've been fairly active within the BZP fanfiction community, not just posting stories, but entering contests (though I never won any), judging in contests (granted, that was only once, but I still count it), being a member of the ECC (that was fun in spite of the drama), entering that comedies awards content expo thing we did a while back, and participating in several discussions about the Library. I've made a lot of friends through fanfiction, which I always thought is one of the best things about it (the other best thing being that you can mangle correct canon as much as you like and get away with it). Early on in my fanfic career, I followed the same writing/posting method that most fanfic writers did (and that most still do today): Write a chapter as fast as I could, look it over once or twice for basic spelling and grammatical errors and minor continuity errors, and then post it. Then I would start work on the next chapter and repeat the whole process again until I reached the end of the story, whether that took 100 chapters or ten. Nothing wrong with writing fast; nothing wrong, even, with performing only a light copy edit. The problem was that I could go on a writing spree in which I wrote tons and tons of work, and then go weeks without writing even one word of the next chapter. Posting schedule was always erratic and unpredictable; depending on the length and difficulty of the chapter and my level of inspiration, weeks could go by without me posting a new chapter, which annoyed some of my readers back then. Although that kind of writing and posting schedule is extremely common within most fanfic communities, I never did like it. Though every finished and posted chapter felt like a victory, anxiety would always follow because I would then have to come up with ideas for the next chapter and I often had no ideas right away unless I was on a roll. And since I never outline my fics, I could never be certain just how long the finished product would be, which meant that I could never be certain how long it would take me to finish the story. Also, even back then, I had dreams of becoming a professional, full-time fiction writer someday. I knew that the pros didn't publish books one chapter at a time, sometimes weeks apart, without any guarantee that they will not just get bored of it at some point and abandon the whole project. If I ever had any hope of going pro, I knew I would have to change my methods at some point. Another motive that spurred me to abandon the "write chapter, do light copy edit, post, repeat" method was my own personal dislike of writers who did that. I hated--and still do hate it--when I would discover an awesome new fanfic by a fantastic writer, read everything posted so far, and then learn that the last chapter was posted six months ago and the author left a note four months ago saying that the next chapter was "coming right along" and would be posted "any day now." (SHORT RANT TIME: If there is one thing I, as a reader, absolutely despise about the fanfiction community, it has to be this. Worse than bad spelling and grammar, worse than implausible shipping fics, worse even than Mary Sues, is the feeling of never knowing for sure when or if your favorite fanfic will ever get updated again. "Next chapter will be done any day now!" the writer's last post, dated two years ago, says. "Just be patient!" No, I will not be patient, Mr. New Favorite (but soon to be Mr. Newly Forgotten) Fanfic Writer. Even if you're the best writer in the world, if you aren't going to post your story on a consistent, regular schedule, then I'll go read the writers who DO post on a regular schedule, thank you very much, because I have no interest in investing my time and attention in a story and characters that won't go anywhere.[/endrant]) In spite of understanding the importance of writing the whole story and posting it a chapter at a time on a regular basis, I didn't actually put that method into practice until a BZP hacking (not the Dataclysm, but one before it that deleted a lot less content) resulted in the deletion of the original version of Tapestry of Evil, which I had not saved or backed up (which is another mistake I've never repeated). Since I hated how the original Tapestry of Evil had been turning out, I transformed a tragedy into an opportunity and redrafted the whole thing, not posting even one word of it until the whole thing was finished. Ever since then, I've always made sure to write the entire story out before posting it. Whenever I started posting it, I would make sure to keep a regular schedule, always a chapter a week, and whenever any outside forces delayed a chapter I would always make sure that my readers knew. I don't know if any of my readers appreciated it or not, but I think this method helped me as a writer more than almost anything else I've done in my fanfic career. It gave me a better understanding of how long it takes me to finish a novel-length story, which is crucial knowledge for any aspiring novelist, and probably made my readers less anxious about whether I'd ever post the next chapter or not. Having said all of that, I must now look ahead to the future, uncertain though it may be. Because while my fanfiction career may be over (it still feels strange to type those words), I haven't stopped writing at all. I've merely moved into the realm of professional fiction writing; more specifically, I've started indie publishing my work through my own publishing company and distributing it through Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and all of the other major ebook sites. Currently I've only published three books, but I have a couple more in the pipeline, as well a few short stories that I need to find covers for. Actually, I've been writing original fiction in tandem with my fanfiction for years now. Even finished several novels, but none of them were ever quite as good as my fanfiction, so I never showed them to anyone. It's only been within the last year that I feel that my original work has become as good as my fanfiction, which is why I am moving onto original fiction (that, and you can't make any money off fanfiction unless you get permission from the copyright owners of the work you've based your fics on, though I can't see LEGO ever paying me to write Bionicle stories, even though that would be beyond freaking awesome if they did). Unfortunately, I am not going to link to my original work on here, nor will I tell you what it is. That's because I publish under my full name, which I haven't revealed here on BZP and which I don't really want to (though I think several members here already know my full name, but I've never publicly posted it anywhere on the forums or this blog to my knowledge). If you want to buy my original works, however, just send me a PM telling me what ebookstore you prefer to buy from (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, Smashwords, etc.) and I'll be happy to send you a link to it. I'm going to miss writing fanfiction, mostly because it really is a ton of fun. If I ever build up a large enough audience for my original work that people start to write fanfiction off it, I will feel totally honored. I know that some writers don't like fanfiction, but to me, as long as you are not claiming you own the original story or trying to make money off it, I don't have any problem with it. Granted, I probably won't be able to read any of it (don't want to be accused of stealing someone's ideas), but I would allow it. As I've always said, my ultimate goal is to become a professional, full-time fiction writer. That is a very difficult goal, even with the advent of easy self-publishing that offers writers far better royalty rates than what most of the big publishers are offering (which means more money for the writer y'all). And there is no guarantee that I will ever actually achieve that goal of mine. Plenty of writers try and fail to make a living at their writing, more than those who succeed sadly enough. While I have confidence in my work, I admit that failure is always a possibility. But no one ever said that making it in a multibillion dollar international business was going to be easy. While luck plays a part, hard work can help even the odds, so I've been working hard every day to get closer and closer to that dream. I'm not making tons of money just yet, nor do I expect to for a while. I just know that if I keep writing, publishing, and improving, eventually I'll make it, no matter how long it takes. Now this doesn't mean I'm leaving BZP entirely. I'm still gonna stick around, though I'm going to be a lot less active probably. With a possible return of Bionicle next year, I still have a reason to hang around, at least as a lurker if nothing else. Way I see it, if I'm going to make it as a writer, I must put more time and effort into my writing, at least the same amount of time I would put into any other small business (which is what writing is, at least when you're attempting to make a living off of it). That means cutting things that take away too much time with too little return, and BZP, sadly enough, fits that description to a T, at least for me. It's a great site, but hanging out here won't get me any closer to my dream, so I have to start focusing on the things that will help me (like writing a lot, for instance). Overall, I am pretty pleased with how my fanfic career turned out. I wrote a lot of fics, received a lot of helpful and positive comments from a lot of good people, made some good friends, and had a lot of fun to boot. What's not to like about that? *If someone in the comments proves me wrong, I will edit this section to reflect that correction. -TNTOS-

As of a few minutes ago, I posted the epilogue to my last Bionicle epic, thus officially ending the Shikaverse and my career as fanfic writer (at least for the foreseeable future, anyway). Unlike with every other week, I'm not going to quote an excerpt from this chapter because I do not want to spoil anything, not even a couple of lines of dialogue. So just go ahead and read the entire epilogue here for yourself. Or, if you haven't been following since the beginning, I suggest starting from the prologue and reading from there. With the entire epic posted, you can now read the whole thing at your own pace if you want. Tomorrow I'll do one more blog post regarding the Shikaverse and fanfiction and stuff, but for now, I just want to thank all of my readers for faithfully tuning in each week to read the newest chapter. I honestly expected In the End to sink into obscurity, maybe get a couple dozen views a week or so, if even that much, so to see it average 100 views a week just blows my mind. That number will probably decline now that the full story is completely posted, but it was just so fun to watch each chapter average 100 views every week. That that very number remained steady, week after week, tells me that I was doing something right. Granted, the vast majority of those readers never commented, but people don't come back week after week to read stories they hate or find boring. I think that, in terms of page views, In the End was my most successful epic (though I haven't really looked at the page views of all of my other epics, so I don't know that for sure). Knowing I had some readers--even if most of them lurked--who came back week after week really helped me get over some doubts about my writing ability I've been harboring recently. You guys rock. -TNTOS-

Epilogue Three months later. . . . “Sure has been quiet around here recently, hasn't it?” “It's always quiet around here, Barc. Except for the occasional bar fight, that is.” Barc, the Roffican bartender of the Tarakava's Fist, shrugged as he set Kafor's glass of arang juice on the counter before her. “True, but ever since you came back from that crazy adventure, it seems like there's been even less activity around here than usual.” Kafor took a swig from the glass. “Maybe you have a point, but is that really such a bad thing? I like the peace and quiet. After everything that's happened, I'm more than ready to settled own into a quiet, peaceful life away from all of the action.” Barc nodded, yet Kafor could see the disbelief still etched in his eyes. When Kafor returned from Wyoko three months ago, she had returned here to this bar and told Barc – who had just gotten out of the hospital – everything that had happened to her after Night and Heavyweight had kidnapped her. He didn't believe a word of her story until the Almighty Ones appeared a day after her return, claiming that they wanted to apologize for Masqouth's actions. After that, he didn't question it, but every now and then, Kafor caught him shaking his head or rolling his eyes whenever she mentioned it. Not that she blamed him. Even she barely believed it. The primary reason she didn't doubt it was because she was still in contact with Night, Kiriah, and Jetrupi. Or was in contact with them, anyway. It had been many months since she'd last spoken with any of them, mostly because their lives had gotten extremely busy upon returning to Spherus Magna. She didn't miss any of them, necessarily, but she did find herself thinking about them every now and then, wondering how they were or what they were doing nowadays. “Hey,” said Barc, looking up at the telescreen. “Isn't that exclusive interview with Masqouth on Channel Nine supposed to be on in a few minutes?” “In half an hour,” said Kafor, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Why?” “Well, don't you want to see him?” said Barc. “I mean, this is the interview of the century. The greatest revolutionary leader of the new century turned himself in and is giving an interview before his execution by the government. This is history in the making, it is.” Kafor swished her juice, bored. “You know Masqouth already told me why he's turning himself in. I don't really want to see him again.” “But I do,” said Barc. “So I'm gonna turn on the telescreen.” Barc picked up the remote on the back counter and pressed the 'ON' button. The telescreen immediately flickered on, showing an advertisement for used airships in New Atero. As soon as the telescreen turned on, the front door of the Tarakava's Fist opened, causing Kafor to look over her shoulder to see who it was. She was surprised to see Night, cloak and all, enter, looking as surly as ever. He took a seat next to her just as Barc slid up to him eagerly. “Look, it's Night,” said Barc, rubbing his hands together in delight. “The hero of the day. Order whatever you want. It's all on the house.” Kafor rolled her eyes. When she told Barc about how Night slew Atuje, the bartender seemed to consider the ex-Dark Hunter a hero. He had even gone so far as to tell Kafor that if anyone should bare the title of Toa, it would be Night, a statement Kafor had not share with the Skrall, knowing as she did exactly how he would react to being told he would make a good Toa. To his credit, Night looked a little uncomfortable with Barc's overenthusiasm. “The usual, please.” “The usual,” said Barc, winking at him like it was some kind of in-joke. “Coming right up. I'll have it done in a jiffy.” Whistling an old Roffican tune that Kafor didn't know the lyrics to, Barc disappeared into the kitchen behind the bar. As soon as he did, Kafor turned to Night and said, “Hey, Night. Long time no see. How have you been?” Night leaned his elbows on the counter and sighed. “I've been all right. I've been staying with Grandfather, helping him tend to his garden. He's getting on in years, so he needs my help.” “So you haven't been arrested yet?” said Kafor in a conversational tone. Night glared at her. “And why would I be arrested?” “Because you have a full ten years of crimes committed as a Dark Hunter on your record,” Kafor said. “I don't know much about those Will folks, but if they fight for justice like they say, I'm surprised you're still walking around free.” “They wanted to arrest me,” said Night. “But apparently their leader heard about how I killed Atuje and convinced the government to pardon me of my crimes. They even offered me a position in the organization. They seem to think my skills would be well-suited for their group's actions.” “Really?” said Kafor. “What did you say?” “I haven't decided yet,” Night said with a shrug. “Right now, I just want to help Grandfather. I haven't seen him in ten years and I have a lot of catching up to do. After that, I might join, if only to give me something to do.” Kafor smirked. “Night, hero of justice? Sorry, but I can't see it.” Night rolled his eyes. “What about you? You seem as sarcastic and cynical as ever.” “Me? I've just been hanging out here with Barc,” said Kafor with a shrug. “I haven't had much to do, to be honest.” “Any Shadowed One loyalists come knocking?” Night said. “I've been lucky. So far, Grandfather and I haven't had to deal with anything worse than hungry Kinloka that keep eating our vegetables.” “Nope,” said Kafor. “That's the weird thing. I thought for sure someone would try to kill me, but the past three months have been rather peaceful. Maybe there weren't as many loyalists as I thought or maybe they don't know where I am. Either way, I'm not complaining at all.” Night nodded. “Did you hear about Kiriah?” Kafor made a face. “What about her?” “She is retiring from her job as Time Stone guardian,” said Night. “I don't know who her replacement will be yet, but that's what I heard.” “What is she going to do in retirement?” Kafor said. “Twiddle her thumbs?” “I actually heard she is going to join the Toa Tanjo,” said Night. “Evidently they're pleased by this because, if she joins, she'll be the oldest and most experienced member of the team. She considered becoming a Turaga, but I guess she still thinks she's not that old yet.” “Good for her,” said Kafor. “By the way, how is that other guy, the Gadarian with black armor?” Night made a face very much like the one Kafor wore at the mention of Kiriah. “You mean Jetrupi?” “Yes, him. What's he doing? Is he still hanging around here?” “He returned to his home dimension a while ago, I think,” said Night. “Kiriah told me that he's going to make amends with his father and some of his old friends. I have no idea what that means, but frankly I'm glad he's not here anymore. I never really liked him all that much.” “And I didn't even get to say good bye,” said Kafor. “Then again, I never knew him very well in the first place, so it's really not that sad if you think about it.” The two sat in silence for a minute, the only sounds being that of the dishes clinking in the kitchen. Kafor wondered what was taking Barc so long to get Night's order, as 'the usual' was not a particularly difficult or complicated dish to make. Then Night said, “So . . . did you see Rubella the Red Star's arena match last night?” Kafor shook her head. “No, I've never been interested in Glatorian matches. What's so special about this one?” “Becuase it's her dramatic return to the arena,” said Night, as if Kafor was dumb. “This is her first match in three months.” “Huh,” said Kafor. “What happened to her?” “She was taking a break,” said Night with a shrug. “Apparently, she was recovering from an injury she received during the invasion of New Atero and also wanted to spend some time with her partner, Toa Niham. Anyway, her return match was great, probably the best one in the season so far.” “You know, I really could care less about it,” said Kafor, sipping her juice again. “So-” Her words were interrupted by the appearance of the Channel Nine News reporter and interviewer, Gosfa, on the telescreen. The Po-Matoran was reclining in a soft chair, with a notebook and pen in his hands, as he looked up at the screen toward the viewers. “Hello, Channel Nine viewers,” said Gosfa with a warm smile. “On this very special installment of Channel Nine News Interviews, I have been given the rare opportunity of interviewing possibly the most infamous being of the new century, the powerful revolutionary and false messiah, Masqouth.” “The interview's starting already?” said Barc as he stepped out of the kitchen with Night's meal in hand. “Did I miss anything?” Kafor shook her head as the camera on the telescreen panned to show Masqouth sitting in the chair opposite Gosfa. Except, unlike Gosfa, Masqouth was tied down to his chair with energy chains and he was missing his mask, which had been replaced with what appeared to be a powerless Mask of Shielding. On either side of the Echo stood two bulky, intimidating-looking Toa of Iron, probably members of the Nuva Corps based on the thick armor they wore and long swords sheathed at their sides. “As you at home can no doubt tell, our guest has been restrained by the two members of the Nuva Guard here,” Gosfa said, gesturing at the two Toa. “This is primarily done for the safety of us here at Channel Nine News, even though it makes this interview a bit more tense than past ones.” “It's an unnecessary precaution, Gosfa,” said Masqouth, who didn't look uncomfortable or even annoyed by the chains. “I plan to sit out this interview right in this chair. I have no desire to run away and I have not asked my followers to stage a breakout, either.” “Yes, of course,” said Gosfa, sounding wholly unconvinced. “Well, let's begin the interview, shall we? The government has only allowed me five minutes in which to talk to you, so I shall make my questions brief and to the point.” “Fire away,” said Masqouth with a yawn, like he was ready for a nap. “All right,” said Gosfa as he glanced at his notebook. “First, the question on everyone's minds: Why did you turn yourself into the government and renounce your position as leader of the revolution?” Kafor smirked. A loaded question right off the bat. She so loved telescreen interviewers, who seemed to understand how to generate drama far better than any playwright or storyteller did. Masqouth, though, didn't skip a beat. “Because I realized the revolution was not good.” “So you think that the Skakdi and Skrall deserve their servitude, then?” “I didn't say that,” said Masqouth. “I think it's great that the Skrall and Skakdi want to be free, but when I started the revolution, well, I wasn't intending for that to happen. To tell you the truth, I was just hoping to see tons and tons of people die.” If that had come from the mouth of anyone other than Masqouth, Kafor certainly would have wanted to see him dead. But knowing as she did why he wanted that to happen, she found herself feeling a strange mixture of understanding and hate instead. A glance at Night told her nothing, as the Skrall's face was as hard-to-read as usual. Gosfa jotted something down. “So you get a sick thrill from seeing people die.” “No,” said Masqouth, shaking his head. “I just thought that it would make me more like my parents, who also killed a lot of people.” “Your parents? May I ask who they are?” “Their names are unimportant,” said Masqouth. “All you need to know is that I completely misunderstood why they did what they did. I dearly wish I had known it earlier. Then maybe there wouldn't have been as much bloodshed on both sides.” “Indeed,” said Gosfa. “So you turned yourself in because you realized your motives weren't pure?” “Yes,” said Masqouth, nodding. “I didn't really know or care about the plight of the Skrall and Skakdi. I only cared about how much destruction they could cause.” “They certainly are quite destructive, aren't they?” said Gosfa with a smirk that Kafor wanted to slap off his face. “I assume you know about the Slaughter at New Atero? Where the army slaughtered the incoming army composed of Skakdi, Skrall, and Kra-Matoran?” “Yes, though I wasn't there when it happened,” said Masqouth. He turned to the camera and said, “I just want to say to anyone out there who had a friend or family member in that slaughter, that I am sorry. I am sorry for leading your people into a battle they couldn't win. I am sorry for deceiving you all. I didn't even understand that I was doing that. If you hate me, then it's just what I deserve. I'm sorry.” Gosfa looked taken aback as Masqouth turned his attention back to the Po-Matoran. “That was a . . . heartfelt apology, Masqouth. I did not expect that.” “It's only what I should have done,” said Masqouth with a shrug. “And I know it's not enough but it's the only thing I can give those grieving people right now.” “How very compassionate of you,” said Gosfa. “You know, you remind me of the Great Spirit Mata Nui. Which is ironic, considering how much you hate him.” “Hate him?” said Masqouth. “I don't hate Mata Nui. I never have. I only exploited the hatred for him that's already in the heart of every Skrall and Skakdi on this planet. After all, how can I hate a being whom I have never even met?” “Ah,” said Gosfa. “I suppose I should have seen that coming. Next question: What do you think about the Kra-Matoran army?” Masqouth hung his head. “A big mistake on my part. Unlike the Skrall and Skakdi, they didn't care about getting freedom and rights. They just wanted to take over the world. I'm sorry I helped bring them into this world at all and I'm even sorrier for tricking the Skrall and Skakdi into allying with them.” “The government has been cracking down on them ever since the end of the War for Spherus Magna,” Gosfa said. “Most have gone into hiding or escaped into League lands, but the government claims to be close to capturing all of them. What do you think about that?” “I don't know,” said Masqouth, shrugging as best as he could with the chains constricting his body. “I'd say they deserved it, but for some reason that doesn't seem like the right thing to say, so I won't.” “I'd certainly say they deserved it,” said Gosfa. “Killing innocent people, spreading widespread mayhem and destruction, pillaging towns and cities . . . I know I won't be the only one going to sleep tonight with the knowledge that their time is numbered.” Kafor glanced at Night. “You seen any Kra-Matoran around, Night?” Night's eyes were glued to the telescreen, but he said, “A Kra-Matoran named Siklo turned up on Grandfather's property a couple of weeks ago. He told us he's not like the others and that he's willing to work for Grandfather as a servant. So far he's been helpful, but we've been keeping an eye on him just the same.” “Are you going to turn him in?” Kafor said. She leaned in closer and said, “I heard the government is handing out a thousand widgets to anyone who brings in or reveals the location of a Kra-Matoran. Sounds like a good way to make some quick money, if you ask me.” Night frowned, but still didn't look at her. “We're not lacking for money. Besides, I don't care much for the government. They've been treating the Skrall even harsher than usual since the Slaughter. I'm not going to give them what they want.” “Then maybe I will,” said Kafor. “I know where you live and besides, I could use the-” Night looked at her with such anger that Kafor actually leaned away. “We may be friends, but that doesn't mean I won't beat you upside the head if you do something stupid.” Kafor gulped and, attempting to escape his gaze, looked back at the telescreen, where Gosfa was now saying to Masqouth, “Well, it looks like we don't have much time left. Any last words you want to share with our viewers?” “Yes,” said Masqouth. “I just want to say that, despite everything I did, I do believe in Zarsk's vision of a new century of peace, hope, and equality for the Skakdi and, if I may, for the Skrall as well. It's a truly beautiful vision that I hope both peoples accomplish long after I'm dead. I'm only sorry I did more to hurt the cause than I ever did to help it.” His tone was genuinely mournful and sorrowful. His demeanor was so different from the Masqouth that Kafor knew that she had a hard time believing they were the same person. Not for the first time, she wondered what the Almighty Ones had told Masqouth that had caused him to take a complete 180 on this topic. For that matter, she wondered why the Almighty Ones were allowing him to be executed like this, knowing as she did how much they loved him. She supposed it was none of her business. “That concludes this week's edition of Channel Nine News Interviews,” said Gosfa, closing his notebook with a small snap. “Thank you for answering our questions, Masqouth. Much to my surprise, I find that I'm actually sorry to see you executed. You seem like a truly wonderful person who might have done a lot of good if destiny had given you a different path to walk upon.” “I've never been a big believer in destiny, to be honest,” said Masqouth. “The highest powers in my life have always been my parents, who have always taught me to take responsibility for my actions. So that's what I'm doing, even though I'm not looking forward to the execution, to be honest.” With that, the telescreen went to commercial. Kafor didn't pay attention to the advertizement, however, because she didn't really care. Watching Masqouth's interview caused all kinds of conflicting feelings to rise inside her, feelings she hadn't even realized that she was keeping bottled up until now. “This is the end of an era, isn't it?” said Barc, snapping Kafor out of her thoughts. “Hmm?” said Kafor, looking up at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean that life isn't going to be the same anymore after this,” said Barc. “Did you hear? There's this new group of Skakdi freedom fighters in New Zakaz who are calling themselves the New Centurians, based off Zarsk's 'new century' ideas. They say they want to try to achieve equality for the Skakdi and Skrall through peaceful means, though, rather than armed rebellion.” “Huh,” said Kafor. “That's new. I wonder how long it will take for them to throw away those nice-sounding principles when reality comes crashing down all around them.” “I don't know,” said Barc with a shrug. “There was this one Zarsk quote I like. I think it goes something like, 'In the end, only those who refuse to play the game can change the system.' I think that means that change is possible only when you decide to do something different, rather than repeat what everyone else has already done.” Kafor shrugged. “Whatever. Night, what do you-” Her words trailed off when she saw that the Skrall was gone. His bowl and cup were empty, too. Somehow he had eaten his entire meal without her noticing and had also disappeared without her noticing. That briefly disconcerted Kafor before she reminded herself that Night was never one to give formal goodbyes anyway. “Did you see where Night went?” Kafor asked Barc. Barc scooped up Night's empty dishes and said, “No. Didn't see him leave. He's too much like a shadow sometimes, in my opinion.” Kafor shrugged. “He is what he is. Anyway, could you get me some more arang juice? I'm still thirsty and I'm all out.” THE END. Review Topic

Yeah, I sometimes look up pictures of certain voice actors if I decide I want to know what they look like, but that's extremely rare. I'm actually more likely to look up a live-action actor whose appearance I can't recall perfectly for whatever reason. Your last point is probably good. Still, I think most of these expectations tend to be subconscious because I only ever face them when I'm forced to. So it's hard to root them out once they've nestled down in your brain (that's a weird mental image, now that I think about it). Yeah, radio announcers are another group that I get surprised whenever I see them. Oddly, with radio announcers, once I actually see them, I imagine them sitting in their studios speaking into a microphone every time I hear their voices on the radio and it never bothers me in the slightest. Sometimes I imagine bloggers sitting at their keyboards typing their posts, but I never, ever imagine voice actors recording their voices while listening to their voices, even if I know what they look like and have seen footage of them at work. Guess it's just a weird thing with me or something. -TNTOS-

When one of your favorite bloggers (not necessarily BZP bloggers, just bloggers in general) posts a video in which they speak and you hear their voice for the first time. Their voice never matches the voice I read their blogs in. Never, ever, ever. I mean, it's just bizarre how sometimes bloggers (and writers in general, honestly) can have these passionate, powerful writing voices that force you to think deeply the issues they blog about, yet when you hear their verbal voices, you'd never expect that they are the same person who wrote that great blog post you come back to again and again. In fact--and this is probably just me because I'm paranoid--your first reaction to hearing them speak is usually something like, "No. You're not my favorite blogger. You're too different from what I imagined the blogger would sound like in real life. You're someone else." It's like seeing your favorite voice actor's face for the first time. If you're anything like me, it is almost always a surreal experience to hear a voice you know and love well coming from the mouth of a real human being. Granted, you do get used to it eventually, but the initial experience always takes me off-guard. Maybe it's just me, but it's happened to me with three of my favorite bloggers so far and each experience has been almost exactly like how I described it above. -TNTOS-

One more week. Just one more week, and I'll post the epilogue and this will be all over. As usual when I get near to completing an epic, I both dread and anticipate it in equal measure. Until then, here's an excerpt from this week's chapter: Read the rest of Chapter XX here. And don't forget to tune in next week for the epilogue! -TNTOS-

Chapter XX Ten years ago. . . . After a long night of hard work, Night Vision was just about ready to go to sleep. He planted the shovel with which he had been digging into the ground and made his way up from Grandfather's vegetable garden to Grandfather's hut, which was on a small hill not far away. In the distance, Solis Magna was just beginng to peak over the horizon, its rays already too bright for Night Vision's taste. As he approached Grandfather's hut, the smell of fresh arang juice cooking wafted into his nose from one of the open windows and made his stomach rumble. He guessed that Grandfather was already awake and getting breakfast ready. As tired as Night Vision was, he figured he could stay up long enough to eat some of Grandfather's cooking. It was some of the best food he had ever had, far better than the crud they served at the Bunker, anyway. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Night Vision entered the hut and found himself standing in the kitchen/dining room. A pot of arang soup (not juice, as he had thought) was cooking on the wood stove Grandfather had owned forever, but it obviously wasn't done yet. It reminded Night Vision of the time when, as a small child, he tried to eat some arang soup while it was still cooking. Just the memory of it was enough to make his tongue burn. He wasn't the only one up this morning. Grandfather was awake, sitting at the table with Heavyweight and Blaze. Based on the empty breakfast plates in front of them, these three had been up longer than he first assumed. He was surprised to see Heavyweight and Blaze up so early; then again, both of them had had trouble sleeping since leaving the Bunker. Night Vision didn't have the same problem as them, but he understood anyway because every time he thought about their current situation, he too wondered if he would ever sleep in peace again. While Heavyweight and Blaze looked tired, Grandfather seemed to be bursting with energy. Not surprising. For as long as Night Vision had known him, Grandfather had always been a morning person, getting up at the crack of dawn every morning make breakfast, get the chores done, and squeeze in a little combat training before his afternoon nap. Even before gaining his shadow powers, Night Vision had never been much of a morning person and he could never understand how Grandfather always seemed to have enough energy to get up and do things so early. Night Vision plopped down in his chair and began eating from the plate of food in front of him. Blaze flashed a brief smile at him, then returned her attention to Grandfather, who was entertaining her and Heavyweight with one of his many stories from the Core War. Night Vision had already heard all of them a thousand times over, but Heavyweight and Blaze never had and so were attentive listeners, which Grandfather seemed to enjoy quite a bit. “. . . And then we ducked and the monster went flying over our heads and over the cliff,” Grandfather said, actually ducking his head to demonstrate what he meant. “When Commander Stronius and I looked over the edge, we saw it lying on the ground in a pool of its own blood. After that, it took us only a few days to rejoin our troop and return to the main army.” “Interesting,” said Blaze. “So you never found out where the monster came from or what it was?” “Personally, I always thought it was a mutated Snaj,” said Grandfather, reclining in his chair. “The pool of energized protodermis was near there, after all, and it looked kind of like a Snaj, too. It probably tried to get a drink of water and ended up transforming. Commander Stronius didn't let me look at its body, though, so I'll never know for sure.” “Did you ever tell them about the time you went toe-to-toe with Commander Ackar himself?” said Night Vision as he chomped on a piece of fried sandbat. “Yes, he did,” said Heavyweight with a sigh. “He gave us the extended version, complete with sound effects and voices.” “They were necessary in order to fully immerse you two into the story I was telling you,” Grandfather insisted. “Your impressions of the female characters were rather awful,” Heavyweight said. “Those were completely necessary on my part,” said Grandfather. “I don't know about you Vortixx, but among us Skrall, there is a certain honor given to those who can tell good stories. As you can probably guess, I gained most of my honor from telling stories. Not enough to earn a name, however, but I'm sure one of these days that Lord Majas will come down here and say, 'Faithful and loyal Skrall, for your years of duty to the Skrall tribe, I now give you a name.'” He said that with the confidence of a telescreen weather Matoran predicting the weather. Of course, Grandfather had been making this same prediction for as long as Night Vision had known him and it still hadn't come true. There were times when Night Vision wondered if Grandfather kept predicting because he actually believed it would happen or if it was simply a habit by now. While Grandfather launched into another one of his Core War stories, Night Vision's attention wandered and he found himself thinking about their current situation. That just made him feel depressed. After escaping the Bunker about a week ago, Night Vision had led Heavyweight and Blaze out of New Atero and into the Bota Magnan countryside, where Grandfather lived by himself in a hut several miles away from the nearest village. It had been easy to convince them to come. New Atero and the other big cities were probably already plastered with their wanted posters because Night Vision could not see Ignika Industries letting bygones be bygones. Until they could figure out their next move, the ex-elementalists needed a place to lay low for a while. Grandfather was delighted to have guests over. He gave Night Vision his old room back and allowed Heavyweight and Blaze to sleep in his room. Grandfather spent most nights sleeping on the dining room/kitchen floor, which didn't seem to bother him at all, and was always the first up in the mornings with fresh breakfast for everyone. Even after they told him why they were here, he let them stay. Grandfather didn't even seem perturbed by his grandson's new shadow powers. For that, Night Vision was grateful. He had been overwhelmed by anxiety over the past week, not knowing what he and the others should do next. He knew they had made one too many enemies in the Bunker that night they escaped and it was only a matter of time before Ignika Industries tracked them down. There was no way in heck that Ignika Industries would let this slide. Of that, Night Vision was certain. He spoke with Heavyweight and Blaze often about this. The two were in complete agreement that at some point they would need to move on, but exactly where they should go, they didn't know. Ignika Industries was an international company that supplied biological chemicals and weapons for countless countries. They debated going to the League of Lords, which might be outside II's influence, but none of them had ever been outside of a Republic country before and the idea of integrating into a new culture sounded exhausting and tedious to Night Vision. So far, they had been lucky. The only people who came to visit were Grandfather's neighbors, none of whom knew anything about Ignika Industries, elementalists, or anything of the sort. Most of them, especially the older ones, had known Night Vision as a kid and were on good terms with Grandfather. They would never think of betraying Night Vision or his friends, not even Blaze, who as a Matoran got some curious looks from the neighbors but who was nonetheless treated with the same respect as anyone else. That didn't stop Night Vision from looking outside every day, jumping at the sound of a twig snapping, feeling uneasy whenever Heavyweight or Blaze went outside alone, or becoming anxious at the sound of someone knocking on the door. He was convinced that any day now, someone hired by II would come by and take them down. He just didn't know when. Night Vision also felt guilty for dragging Grandfather into this. True, Grandfather had been a proud warrior in his younger days and was definitely not afraid of fighting to protect his grandson and his grandson's friends, but without knowing what II was going to do, Night Vision was stressed out. What if Grandfather was killed? It would certainly be honorable for him to die in battle, but the idea of losing Grandfather did nothing to ease Night Vision's nerves. All in all, the future was uncertain and Night Vision did not know what to do. Grandfather was wonderfully encouraging, true, but every time Night Vision thought about the future, he almost panicked. In many ways, he felt like a kid again, about to participate in his first tournament, hoping that Grandfather was right about everything working out in the end, but suspecting that maybe that was just not so. A sharp knock at the door snapped Night Vision out of his thoughts. Everyone turned to look at the door, but no one got up to answer it even when the knocking became incessant. “One of the neighbors?” Blaze said, in a low voice so whoever was knocking wouldn't hear her. Grandfather shook his head. “Probably not. Around here, neighbors don't knock on each other's doors. They just come in when they want something.” “Someome from II?” Heavyweight said with a gulp. “Not sure,” said Grandfather. “Grandson? Did you see anyone while you were working last night?” Night Vision shook his head. “No. I was alone all night long. Not even the Rahi bothered me.” The visitor was still knocking, causing Grandfather to say, “I'll answer it. You three, hide behind the table. If our visitor is from Ignika Industries, well, I'm sure you understand why you should stay out of sight.” The three former elementalists got up from their seats and crouched behind the table as Grandfather stood up. He made his way to the door, saying, “All right, all right, I'm coming, I'm coming,” as the knocking somehow managed to grow even louder. When he reached the door, he cracked it open just a little and said, “Hello. Who are you?” “A visitor,” said a voice on the other side of the door, a voice as old as Grandfather's armor. “I simply wish to speak with your grandson. And his two friends, too, of course.” “Oh,” said Grandfather, his tone cheery but his body quite rigid. “I've never seen you around before, so I don't know how you found out about them. May I ask why you wish to speak with them?” “Because my employer knows all about them,” said the voice. “In particular, my employer is interested in the idea of a Skrall wielding an elemental power. Very much unheard of, as I'm sure you know.” “I'm sorry, but your employer's got his facts wrong,” said Grandfather. “My grandson is a normal Skrall, like me. I have never seen him use any elemental powers ev-” The click of a gun's hammer suddenly caused Grandfather to cease speaking. “Don't play dumb with me,” said the voice. His tone was as sharp as a sword now. “I may be old, but I am not yet senile. I have been staked out by your house for several days now and I've seen your grandson and his friends use their elemental powers more than a few times. If you lie to me again, I'll put a bullet through your brain, although that would be an awful waste considering how close to death's door you appear to be already.” “What . . . do . . . you . . . want?” said Grandfather. It sounded like something was pressed against his neck, although from his current position Night Vision could not tell what it was. “Like I said earlier, I simply want to talk to them,” said the voice. “That's all. No fighting or killing, which I imagine must sound awful boring to you Skrall. My employer has a job offer for them that he does not think they can refuse.” “And just who is your employer anyway?” said Grandfather. “Is he someone I might know?” The voice chuckled. “Hardly. Few people know him personally, mostly because he usually kills anyone who gets too close. You have probably heard of him, though. Everyone has.” Night Vision glanced at Heavyweight and Blaze. The two looked as confused as he did. Who was this guy talking about? “Well,” said Grandfather, “I suppose it couldn't hurt if you'd just like to talk. I mean, that's all you want to do?” “That is all,” the voice said. “I don't want to cause any trouble. If I could have a civil conversation with them about the opportunity my employer is offering them, then I will leave quietly like a good houseguest and never return unless they accept the job.” Grandfather didn't look at the elementalists as he said, “All right. If you could remove the barrel of your gun from my neck, I'll be happy to let you in.” A moment later, Grandfather stepped aside and a new being entered. The being looked nearly as old as Grandfather, although he was not a Skrall or any other species Night Vision could identify, though the mechanical creaking of his joints immediately pegged him as a former inhabitant of the old Mata Nui robot. Despite his age, the newcomer didn't look weak at all. Perhaps that was because of his deep crimson armor or the sniper rifle he not-so-subtly carried over one shoulder. Either way, Night Vision didn't plan to let his guard down around the visitor while he was anywhere near them. Night Vision, Heavyweight, and Blaze slowly rose from behind the table as Grandfather said, “Welcome to my home, stranger. Here are my grandson and his two friends. They were hiding because . . . well, if you already know their history, then I think an explanation is quite unnecessary.” The newcomer's eyes swept over them like a tidal wave. Lying was immediately out of the question. There was no way to hide anything from those old eyes. “Hmph,” said the being, scratching his chin with his left hand. “For a handful of murderers and arsonists, I thought you would look far more threatening. Your wanted posters are highly misleading in that regard.” The being took a step forward, causing Night to say, “Stop right there. Tell us who you are, who your employer is, and what he wants with us.” The newcomer stopped, one foot hovering in midair, and then gently lowered it to the ground. “That is reasonable enough, I suppose. My name – or rather, my codename – is Raider. And my employer is the Shadowed One.” There was a sudden temperature drop in the room that had nothing to do with the temperature. Everyone in the room, except Raider, became tense. Night Vision automatically reached for the hilt of his sword before remembering that he had left it in his room. Thankfully, Raider didn't seem to notice the movement. Or if he did, he didn't say anything about it. “So you're a Dark Hunter,” said Heavyweight, breaking the silence. “Are you here to kill us?” Raider smiled. “No. If everything works out, then no one will have to die.” Night Vision's hands were obscured by the table, but he didn't dare try to summon any shadow energy. “I can't imagine the Shadowed One would have any benevolent reason for sending you after us, Raider. So forgive us if we're a little skeptical.” “Young Skrall, there is no such thing as a benevolent reason for anything,” Raider said. “Besides, it wasn't the Shadowed One himself who sent me. I was hired by your former employers, Ignika Industries, to hunt you three down and bring you in dead or alive. It wasn't difficult. I picked up on your trail three days after you escape the Bunker and it took me only a day to track you down here. I've been watching you from the trees around here ever since in an attempt to confirm what I'd been told about your powers.” “I knew it,” said Night Vision. “Dark Hunters are never up to any good. They are just a bunch of thugs who work for whoever has the best offer.” “I think you sell us short,” said Raider. “You see, the Shadowed One does not want you dead. I mean, he did give me orders to kill you three if you resisted, but when the Shadowed One heard of your unique abilities, he decided to change my assignment.” Heavyweight raised an eyebrow. “Won't Ignika Industries be angry about that?” “You're assuming we are going to let them know,” said Raider. “You see, the Shadowed One is a murderer, a tyrant, and a thief, but he's also a collector. He loves the idea of having a Skrall who can control shadow, a Vortixx who can control gravity, and a Matoran who can control fire under his command, as parts of his 'collection,' so to speak.” “We're not display pieces,” said Night Vision, folding his arms. “We're not going to let the Shadowed One stuff us into stasis tubes and put us in his vault.” “You are taking this too literally,” said Raider. “The Shadowed One doesn't want to do that to you, either. Instead, he has tasked me with offering you three a place in the Dark Hunters as his agents.” “You mean, he wants us to become Dark Hunters?” said Heavyweight. “The Shadowed One is offering us a job in that organization?” “Indeed,” said Raider, nodding. “While the jobs can be difficult, the pay is good and you rarely have to worry about being harassed by your enemies due to the size of the Dark Hunters. Even if II found out about it, I am certain they would leave you three alone for the rest of your lives.” Night Vision leaned forward, putting both hands on the table. “You Hunters are all about theft, immorality, and cowardice. You strike from the shadows, rather than fight in the light. No honorable Skrall would ever accept an offer to join you people, not even one as disgraced as I.” “Heavyweight and I are not interested in your offer, either,” said Blaze. “We may be on the run from II, but that doesn't mean we feel an affinity for thieves and murderers like you Dark Hunters.” “How disappointing,” said Raider with a sigh. “I guess I must have forgotten to tell you what will happen to you if you refuse. Otherwise, I doubt you would have been so hasty in rejecting my offer.” “Are you going to fight us?” said Night Vision. “Because I think we've got you outnumbered here.” “I am a much better fighter than you give me credit for, Night Vision,” said Raider. “But that is not the point. You see, Ignika Industries currently does not know of your location. Your trail was rather obvious to me, but the folks at II evidently know nothing about the finer aspects of tracking, which is why they hired me.” “What are you getting at?” Night Vision said. “My point is this,” said Raider. “If you say no, I will leave this place. And then I will inform II of your location. They may dock my pay for failing to bring you three in, but that won't stop them from sending in a less merciful mercenary after you. They may even send some of their own elementalists. I heard that you got into a fight with some of them before you escaped the Bunker. I have a feeling there are more than a few of your former friends who would be more than happy to take you three down, and not painlessly, either.” Night Vision remembered the six elementalists who tried to stop them when they escaped the Bunker. “You wouldn't.” “But I would,” said Raider. “If you do not want to be dragged half-dead – or even wholly dead – back to Ignika Industries's labs, then I suggest you take the Shadowed One's offer. If you join the Dark Hunters, you will gain protection from your enemies and will be able to live a life of relative peace.” “No grandson of mine is going to become a Dark Hunter,” said Grandfather. “For that matter, I would be unhappy if Heavyweight and Blaze became Dark Hunters, too. It's a disreputable organization, it is, based on lies, treachery, deceit, and-” Raider moved so fast that for a moment Night Vision wasn't even sure that he had. But the results of Raider's actions were clear: Grandfather was lying on the ground, his arms around his abdomen, like he had been punched in the gut. “Grandfather!” said Night Vision. He looked at Raider and growled, “Why you-” Raider pressed the barrel of his gun against the side of Grandfather's head. “I may not kill you, but I never said I would spare your grandfather. Perhaps you do not care if II sends more elementalists after you. Surely, then, you must care about whatever might happen to your grandfather if you say no. A bullet to the head would kill him quickly, perhaps quicker than if II got ahold of him. Either way, rejecting our offer will lead to a tragic end to this noble warrior's long life, wouldn't you say?” Night Vision pushed himself off the table and looked at Heavyweight and Blaze. “What do you two think?” Heavyweight shrugged in helpelessness. “What can we do? Raider's got us. We say no, your old man will be dead, and we'll have to run again before Ignika Industries sends someone else after us. If we say yes, though-” “But I don't want to be a Dark Hunter,” said Blaze, her hands on her face. “I'd rather be a slave working in the exsidian mines than a Dark Hunter.” “What do you three have to lose?” Raider said, his finger never wavering from the gun's trigger. “II has already created a campaign making you three out to be ruthless murderers who must be stopped ta all costs. If you join the Dark Hunters, I doubt it would do much to harm your public image.” Raider was right, Night Vision realized, but that didn't mean he liked it. He looked for a way out of it, any way at all, but it rapidly became clear that the three ex-elementalists had little choice in the matter. “All right,” said Night Vision. “You win, Raider. For Grandfather's sake, I'll become a Dark Hunter.” “As will I,” said Heavyweight. “Doesn't mean I like it, though.” Blaze was silent. Her silence made Night Vision feel uncomfortable, mostly because even he did not know what was going through her head. Maybe she was thinking of a way to get out of this or maybe she was thinking about how terrible their situation was. Then Blaze raised her head and, staring directly into Raider's eyes, said, “No. I refuse.” Raider met her gaze without flinching. “I expected at least one of you would say no. Should have expected it to be the Matoran. You villagers are really obstinate.” Before Night Vision or Heavyweight could do anything, Raider moved the barrel of his gun from Grandfather's head, aimed, and fired at Blaze in one smooth motion. The bullet was totally silent, but the results were plain as day. Blaze fell backwards on the floor, a small dark hole in her forehead where the bullet had entered. She did not move or speak. Night Vision couldn't speak. He looked at Heavyweight and saw the brokenness in her eyes. He then reached out toward Blaze's corpse, but Raider said, “She's dead. I've killed plenty of Matoran in my day, so I know exactly where to shoot them.” By now, Raider had returned the barrel of his gun to the side of Grandfather's head. Grandfather looked shocked by Blaze's murder, but he continued to lay still, probably to avoid the same fate as her. Night Vision's hands shook as he looked at Raider. “You . . . you monster. You said you wouldn't kill us if we agreed to join.” Raider shrugged. “I only said I wouldn't kill your grandfather, who by the way has been a very good hostage. As long as you two don't try anything stupid, all of you can continue to live. Doesn't that sound grand?” It did not sound grand, but Night Vision didn't know what to do. If Raider could easily kill Blaze so quickly, the Dark Hunter could probably make short work of him, Heavyweight, and Grandfather. He doubted either he or Heavyweight could move fast enough to stop Raider before he killed Grandfather. Dang it, Night Vision thought, anger and sorrow burning in his heart. What is the point of having elemental powers if you can't use them to save the people you love? “I can tell you two aren't going to try anything,” said Raider. “Doesn't surprise me. Vortixx are savvy businessmen by nature and Skrall do not sacrifice one another unnecessarily. If you would just come along with me to New Odina, then, no one else will need to die today.” Night Vision's inherent knowledge of honor goaded him to rip Raider apart, to avenge Blaze's death. But he resisted it, knowing as he did the uselessness of that action. So Night Vision and Heavyweight exchanged one last look (they couldn't look at Blaze's body again, not so soon) and walked around the table to Raider. The Dark Hunter removed his gun's barrel from Grandfather's head, but Grandfather didn't get up. Night Vision felt the disappointed eyes of Grandfather on his back as he left, which he couldn't see but which he had no trouble imagining, having seen them once before when as a small child he had done something so very foolish. It was not a look he wished to see again. - Present day. . . . “Give up, Atuje,” said Night, standing at the head of the group, his sword held in front of him. “You're outnumbered and outmatched.” Atuje stood behind his two remaining Echoes, Wavica and Asroth, all three of them wearing expressions of equal shock. Night briefly wondered what had happened to Jeran before he noticed the Echo's body lying at the foot of Atuje's throne. That told him all he needed to know and perhaps more than he wanted to know. “Masqouth,” said Atuje, in the least convincing pacfistic voice Night had ever heard. “What are you doing with the people who murdered your parents?” “They didn't kill my parents,” said Masqouth, shaking his head. “You did. I know the truth now, Atuje. Night told me. You've been manipulating me this entire time. You don't care about me or my parents. You just want to kill us all to satisfy your need for revenge. You're a big meanie.” Night had to glance at Masqouth after he'd said that. “Really? 'Big meanie' is the best insult you could come up with?” “Hey,” said Kafor. “I'm the one who is supposed to make sarcastic remarks around here, remember? Night does have a point, though.” Atuje's expression changed from shocked to anger in an instant. “Then I guess there is no need to pretend any longer. Yes, I did try to kill your parents, but they got away before I could finish them off. If they ever choose to turn up again, however, I will most certainly-” Without warning, the eastern wall of the throne room exploded, causing everyone to duck for cover as chunks of wall flew everywhere. Barely a second later, a group of five robed beings flew through the gaping hole in the wall and landed in front of it like they did that sort of the every day. Masqouth's smile became as wide as the sea when he saw the newcomers. “I can't believe it. You guys are alive.” When Night got a good look at them, he saw that they were indeed the Almighty Ones. They looked like they had been in a fight, but otherwise it was impossible to mistake them for anyone else. “It is good to see you again, Masqouth,” said the Almighty Ones when they spotted him. “In fact, it is good to see all of you. We thought you were all dead.” Oggak, who was standing near Kiriah, muttered, “Who are these people and what is going on?” “I'll explan later,” Kiriah muttered in response. “Now you're really outnumbered, Atuje,” said Jet, gesturing all around at everyone in the room. “Sixteen against three. And five of our number, in case you hadn't noticed, are the Almighty Ones.” Though Atuje gave off an aura of unshaken confidence, Night sensed that the King was afraid. He knew this because Atuje had taken a step ever-so-slightly backwards, as if he was ready to run. His Echoes were not that subtle. Wavica looked just about ready to give up, while Asroth shook so badly that she looked like she was going to fall apart. “You know what?” she said. “I didn't sign up for this. Not even the throne Atuje promised me if I went along with his silly little plan is worth this. I'm out of here. Bye.” Wavica grabbed Asroth's arm before her comrade could flee. “And where do you think you're going? Atuje told us to protect him, not run away.” Asroth ripped her arm out of Wavica's grasp. “Have you lost your mind? We stay here, we'll get killed. Or, at best, we'll be thrown in prison for the rest of our lives. And I don't know about you, but I'm not very old and would rather not spend the rest of my life in a tiny jail cell, thank you very much.” With that, Asroth opened a dimensional portal and jumped through it. She did it so fast that no one could catch her and by the time anyone realized what she'd done, the portal closed, leaving behind only Atuje and Wavica. Wavica turned to Atuje and said, “My lord, I would never betray you, like Jeran, or abandon you, like Asroth. I am a true and faithful Echo, through and through. I will protect you to the death, if I must.” “A noble sentiment,” said Atuje. “But I can no longer trust anyone who serves me. Therefore, I no longer require your services, Wavica.” Atuje snapped his fingers. The sound of his fingers snapping was lost in the loud crack that sounded through the throne room and the next moment Wavica fell to the floor. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, causing Kiriah to reflexively reach for her own neck, like she was afraid it might snap next. “You just made the odds worse for yourself,” Kafor said. “All of your minions are either dead or have abandoned you. All sixteen of us are against you. You are screwed.” Atuje's eyes went back and forth over the large group like a trapped beast. “No . . . this cannot be. Not after everything I have worked for. This is impossible.” “That's what you deserve,” Masqouth said, his chest heaving with repressed anger. “So for almost killing me and my parents, I'm gonna kill you myself.” Even before the words left his mouth, Masqouth's mask had already changed into the Mask of Speed. Then he zoomed toward Atuje before anyone could stop him, moving so fast no one could see him, yelling at the top of his lungs a battle cry so fierce that Night Vision was thankful he was now on their side. Then Masqouth reappeared in front of Atuje, both fists raised. He never got to bring his fists down on Atuje, however, because the King immediately seized Masqouth by the neck and slapped him across the mask. He then held Masqouth against his body, both of them facing the others, his hands wrapped around the Echo's neck in such way that if Masqouth made even one false move, Atuje would break his neck instantly. “Don't move,” said Atuje in a low voice. “One false move and I will kill Masqouth faster than you can blink.” “Go ahead,” said one of the Will agents. “We don't need Masqouth. None of us care about him.” “No!” said the Almighty Ones. “Don't kill him. He's our son.” “Ha,” said Atuje with a satisfied smirk. “You Almighty Ones are pathetic. You now have an opportunity to finish me off once and for all, but you hesitate because of sentimentality. I wish I had known how much you loved Masqouth years ago. I might not have died otherwise.” Night gritted his teeth. His eyes met Masqouth's. The Echo seemed perfectly at ease, despite the recent turn of events. He simply nodded at Night, which told the Skrall all he needed to know. He lowered his sword and gestured for the others to do the same, which they did. Perhaps they had seen Masqouth's nod or maybe they didn't think they could defeat Atuje in a fight. Either way, the collective lowering of their weapons didn't escape Atuje's notice. “What's this? All of you are giving up? I honestly didn't expect that.” “No,” said Night. “We're not giving up. We're just about to win.” The puzzled expression on Atuje's face lasted only a second before Masqouth's Kanohi shape-shifted into the Mask of Intangibility. The next moment, Masqouth's entire body turned intangible, causing Atuje to stumble forward through him, completely off guard. Now behind Atuje, Masqouth's mask once again transformed, this time into the Mask of Repulsion. When the mask flashed, Atuje went flying through the air toward the astonished crowd of his enemies, only managing to let out a yell of anger and surprise. This was just what Night had been waiting for. While everyone else watched the flying King in shock, Night dashed forward, pulling the trigger on his sword as he did so. When the flames exploded into existence around the blade of the sword, they felt even hotter than usual or perhaps Night's lack of rest over the last couple of days made it seem that way. That didn't matter to Night at all. As Atuje flew overhead, Night raised his flaming sword. The hot flames sliced through Atuje's body as easily as a knife through butter. The King of Life didn't even get a chance to scream in pain as both halves of his now-severed body landed on the floor and rolled to a stop before the feet of the others. Night skidded to a stop, breathing hard as he let go of the trigger, causing his sword to return to normal. He looked up at Masqouth, who looked both tired and pleased. For once, Night smiled at his former enemy. “Good job. Perhaps you're a better warrior than I gave you credit for.” Masqouth looked at his feet bashfully. “Well, you know, I really didn't want Atuje to get away again. I wanted to finish him once and for all.” Night nodded. “Same here.” Then the Almighty Ones suddenly appeared around Masqouth. Their sudden appearance caused Night to start, but Masqouth took it in stride. He tried to embrace all five of his parents as best as he could, while they all hugged him back. None of them spoke or said anything. It was such an intimate moment that Night had to look away. He saw the Will agents, plus Jet and Kiriah, examining the remains of Atuje. They looked like they were trying to make sure he was dead. Night didn't see how anyone could possibly survive being sliced in half, but when he remembered how Atuje had cheated death once before, he understood their need to know for sure. Then Kafor walked up to him, her hands behind her back, and said, “Well. That was a rather terrible way to go, but I'd say he had it coming. I'm just relieved it's all over, to be honest.” “Same here,” said Night. “In a way, though, it's not. We still have to return to Spherus Magna. And I can't see the Dark Hunters welcoming us back with open arms.” Kafor looked at Night in annoyance. “Thanks for the reminder, sunshine. You really know how to brighten up my mood.” “I was just pointing out Spherus Magna isn't much safer than Wyoko,” said Night. “In case you forgot.” Kafor looked from the Will agents, who were now moving Atuje's remains, to the Almighty Ones and Masqouth, who had not moved an inch since starting the group hug. “Everyone sure looks happy, don't they?” Night nodded. “What is your point?” “Just that you look rather unhappy,” Kafor said. “Is it because of Heavyweight?” That flood of emotion that Night had been certain he had squashed out earlier came roaring back. He tried to keep a neutral expression, but he was all too aware of the tears trying to stream from his eyes and the way his body shook ever-so-slightly. “It's because what I said earlier,” said Night as he turned away, hoping Kafor wasn't astute enough to see through this rather obvious ruse. “The Dark Hunters probably want us dead. Hard to be happy when you realize you're on the hit list of some of the most murderous, crazy bounty hunters in the world.” “Sure,” said Kafor, though her tone told him that she wasn't fooled at all by this excuse. “Well, I can give you a few tips about running and hiding from the Dark Hunters. I'm practically an expert at it.” Night chuckled bitterly. “Skrall don't run. But thanks for the offer. When we get back, I'll figure out what to do then.” Review Topic

X-Men: First Class. Really good movie. Probably my favorite X-Men movie. Now I just need to see Days of Future Past, which I've been told is very good. -TNTOS-

Thanks . -TNTOS-