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  1. Orkahm ran a hand through the gukko’s feathers. The Rahi produced a garbled sound through its beak, watching him in case he gave an order. The sound of footsteps could be heard, making Orkahm sigh. “I already told you, I’m not going through with your cross-wired, half-thought-out, crazy—“ He was cut off by a raspy laugh. “Did you really speak-say all that, Orkahm?” The Matoran turned around. His eyes went wide as he realized who was there. “Turaga Matau! I-I-I’m sorry! I thought you were—“ “Kongu, right?” Matau said. He shuffled towards Orkahm, using his staff for support. “He and some of the other flight-riders were celebrating in the square. Something about a new dive-trick Kongu had test-proven?” Matau patted the gukko as Orkahm replied, “Yes. He got a thought-plan about the volo lutu launchers used in dodge-racing…said if we leap-jumped off our gukko in mid-flight and shot-fired at a branch, we could swing using the pull-force, just like a vine.” The Turaga nodded. “Yes, he explained. Sounds brave-daring!” “Sounds foolish,” Orkahm mumbled. “If you’re fall-diving, how can you steady-aim? I convinced them to use catch-nets for their practice. Do you know how many of them would have crash-died if they hadn’t?” Orkahm shook his head. To himself, Matau chuckled, “Stubborn as ever, I see…” “What?” “Er, nothing! I’m ever-glad you were able to convince, them, Orkahm. You have my true-thanks. Le-Koro would be in great dark-trouble if so many of its wind-riders perished.” Orkahm lit up. “So, you agree with me?” “Not so quick-fast,” Matau said, pointing at Orkahm. “Though I agree-think you need a catch-net while practice-testing the trick, I see nothing wrong with practice-testing it in the first place.” His expression deflating, Orkahm muttered, “Oh…” “Kongu is definitely a bit mad-crazy—I’m right-sure he only thought of this to show-off. But once the Gukko Force learn-masters this move, it may just save their lives. How many times has a Nui-Rama quick-grabbed a rider and thrown him off? There are certainly no catch-nets in those situations. Being able to fast-save yourself with a tool you’re already hold-carrying will do a lot of good, right?” “I…hadn’t thought of it that way…” Matau put a hand on Orkahm’s shoulder. “Orkahm, I’m going to be plain-frank. You’re as stubborn as a Kane-Ra protecting its pack-family. But you know, that’s exactly why we like-value you as a member of the Gukko Force. You never give up! The others would never admit-say it, but you’re a real inspiration to them at times. For that, never quit-stop being stubborn. But even when you’re stubborn, it doesn’t pain-hurt to be a tiny-small bit flexible sometimes.” He paused to laugh. “True-trust me, I know! First-hand mistakes taught me the rough-hard way!” Orkahm nodded. “…You think I should test-try it, don’t you?” “With the way you tight-ride, I don’t think you’ll ever use-need it. Still, you never true-know. It’s your decision to say-make, Orkahm. Anyway, I just wanted to quick-stop by—I need to go see-check some other matters.” Matau shuffled away. Looking back to his gukko, Orkahm said, “I don’t know…what do you think?” *** From Ka’s back, Kongu oversaw the training session, watching as several riders practiced diving with the volo lutu launcher. It was going better than the day before, that much was certain. Much as he hated to admit it, Orkahm had been right: things would have gone very badly without the net. Orkahm and his gukko hovered just below the canopy. There were plenty of tree branches reaching out into the small clearing, but enough open space that three or four riders could practice the maneuver at once. He looked down to make sure that the net was being held high enough above the ground, also scanning the masks of the riders holding the corners to make sure they were paying attention to their job. “Orkahm!” Kongu called. “If you’re just going to sit-watch, we have other maneuvers you can practice.” After considering this for a moment, Orkahm shook his head. Gripping his launcher tightly, he stood up in his saddle and wobbled back and forth. “He’s never going to leap-jump,” Kongu muttered. Ka squawked in agreement. Orkahm stared down at the net. A short chirp from his gukko snapped him out of it—the creature seemed eager to see whether or not he was going to act. “Oh, alright,” he grumbled. Spotting a sturdy-looking branch nearby, Orkahm took a deep breath and, holding the launcher in both hands, jumped. As soon as he felt his feet leave the saddle, the Le-Matoran twisted in mid-air, trying to point himself towards the branch again. It was impossible to be sure, but he did not have time—he fired the launcher, shooting a sphere that arced towards the branch and stuck to it. Yes! Pulling the trigger again, Orkahm felt himself being pulled up towards the sphere. However, due to the way he had positioned himself, the force hit him at an odd angle, wrenching the launcher from his grasp. No! Orkahm continued to spin as he fell. He hit the net hard, nearly tearing it from the hands of the Matoran holding it. The launcher, no longer sensing pressure on the trigger, cut off its attraction function and fell to the jungle floor. Kongu laughed. “You need to work on your pose-form, Orkahm! Nice try, though!” Pulling his limbs out of holes in the net, Orkahm found himself thinking only one thing: Never again.
  2. Nuhrii paced up and down the sidewalk, glancing around for any sign of Vakama. He should’ve been here by now. With a sigh, Nuhrii stopped pacing. Vakama had definitely asked him to be here at this precise time to tour the Kanohi shops, as they had often done ever since Nuhrii had begun training him. Lately, however, Nuhrii was becoming hesitant to agree to these trips. He advanced so quickly, the mask-maker recalled, as if he was born a veteran of the craft. Vakama was so soon able to put my work to shame… Nuhrii kicked a rock down the road. It was easy for him to tell when someone was better than him at something, but he was never happy to see this occur. Not only that, but there were very few who could best him in his life’s work, and this was the first time his student—his own student—had risen to that level. On one hand, Nuhrii wondered if this meant he was an excellent teacher. On the other, he was terribly, terribly jealous of Vakama. “Nuhrii!” Vakama came running down the street, pausing in front of his former mentor to catch his breath. “I was getting worried,” Nuhrii said. “Was there a chute leak again?” Vakama shook his head. Gasping for air, he stood up and looked at Nuhrii with a huge smile. “Nuhrii…the Turaga…he said…” Nuhrii held up his hands. “Don’t get ahead of yourself; I’ll be patient.” It took Vakama about a minute more to stop panting. When he did, he excitedly said, “Turaga Dume came to my workshop. He’s asked me to forge the Mask of Time for him!” Nuhrii went stiff. …Turaga Dume…the Turaga personally went to his workshop… Vakama cocked his head. “Nuhrii…?” He wants Vakama to make a Legendary Kanohi? The Turaga wants Vakama to create the Great Mask of Time?! “Um…well, I wanted to thank you, Nuhrii. If it hadn’t been for your teaching—“ “Shut up,” Nuhrii whispered. “What?” “Don’t patronize me!” Nuhrii shouted. “I already know you’ve surpassed me. You don’t have to rub it in my face like this!” Vakama recoiled at his outburst. “…But…Nuhrii…” Nuhrii threw his hands up. “I give up, alright? Congratulations on your great honor, Vakama. Now I know I’ll never be able to beat you.” He left, heading back for his forge. Vakama stood there, dumbfounded, wondering what he had done wrong.
  3. Tehutti rolled his eyes as Mavrah came running into the study. “Tehutti! Come—come see this!” Mavrah tried to pull Tehutti from his seat, but Tehutti refused to budge. “Calm down!” Tehutti snapped. “What are you going on about now?” Mavrah beat his hand against the table in excitement, saying, “I’ve found it! I’ve found a remarkable specimen! You have to see it!” Tehutti could not bring himself to care about Mavrah’s ramblings any more than usual. His job of going over these tablets, however, had become so tedious that the lines appeared to be running together. After quickly making sure there were no Rorzakh around, he set down the tablets and got out of his seat. Mavrah dragged him down the hall to an elevator and pressed the button to summon it, bouncing excitedly as they waited. “You’re embarrassing yourself,” Tehutti said. “You know that, right?” Unfazed, Mavrah’s eyes continued to gleam with energy. “You’ll understand once you see it! Oh, Tehutti, it’s so magnificent! It’s unbelievable!” What’s unbelievable is how you can jump continuously like that without gears flying out of your body… The two of them stepped into the elevator when it arrived. Mavrah pressed the button for the lowest available sublevel; his movement calmed a bit so as not to rock the lift, but his foot was rapidly tapping. Just as the noise was about to drive Tehutti insane, the doors opened, and Mavrah dashed out. The leader tugged on Tehutti’s arm hard, creating a sharp pain and nearly dislocating his shoulder. “Ouch! Hey, careful with that!” “Sorry! Just hurry! It’s this way!” Tehutti shook his head and ran faster to avoid having his arm torn off. Mavrah always did this whenever he discovered something: he would get overexcited, grab the nearest friend he could find, and drag them away to join in his elation. Usually, he turned out to be mistaken. Even though he had been right a few times, Mavrah hadn’t even been able to secure an exhibit with his name on it yet, but oddly enough he did not seem discouraged by this. That didn’t make sense to Tehutti. An Archivist wasn’t really an Archivist until he had at least one exhibit to his name—that was just how things worked in Onu-Metru. Of course, there was only a limited amount of history to study and Rahi to catalogue. It was very difficult to pass the criteria for a new exhibit these days. His frustration now amplified, Tehutti asked, “Just how much farther is this, Mavrah? How much time do you think I have to waste?” Mavrah grumbled, “It’s not a waste of time…not much farther, okay?” “At least tell me what it is.” “No, you have to see it!” “Sometimes, Mavrah…” The sublevels were extremely bare, especially compared to the rest of the Archives. A few doors lined each tunnel, but most were locked, and even some of the Archivists who had the keys still weren’t sure what was inside each chamber. It took a few minutes before Mavrah finally came to a stop before a bend in the tunnel. “Alright, are you ready?” “…No. Maybe you should drag me around a bit more until I am.” “Oh, shut up. Just take a look at this!” The Onu-Matoran both stepped around the corner. Trapped beneath a transparent container (with a pile of rocks on top to keep it from being moved) alongside the tunnel’s side was a Fikou. However, this was a Fikou unlike any Tehutti had ever seen. It was about the size of his fist—not an entirely uncommon size—but a spiked tail extended from its rear, and even from this distance it could be seen glowing with an eerie magenta light. “…Oh,” was the first word that came out of Tehutti’s mouth. Mavrah beamed with pride. “See?! What did I tell you?! A bioluminescent Fikou with a tail! Nobody’s ever recorded one of these, which means I discovered it! And that’s not all—take a closer look.” Tehutti cautiously approached the trapped creature, which stood its ground and thrashed its tail back and forth in response. Further observation revealed that the Fikou had scales covering its body, and its head looked more like an ice bat…well, a three-eyed ice bat. “Remarkable…” Tehutti said. “Can you even still call this a Fikou? It’s like an entirely different species.” “I guess we will need a new name, won’t we?” Mavrah mused. “Maybe the ‘Mavrah spider’? I sort of like the sound of that! Haha, this will get me an exhibit for sure!” The Fikou kicked the glass, but the Matoran paid its aggression no mind. Turning back to his friend, Tehutti said, “I guess so…congratulations, Mavrah.” “Don’t be jealous, Tehutti, I’ll give you a footnote in my report. Help me get this thing to the upper levels, alright?” Tehutti sighed as Mavrah began to clear the rocks off the top of the container. He turned around just as the last stone was removed, and watched as the Fikou suddenly backed up against the side opposite of where Mavrah stood. The container slipped out of Mavrah’s grasp and over a ridge in the ground, causing its edge to bounce up and provide just enough space for the Rahi to slip free. “Grab it!” Mavrah shouted as he lunged. The Fikou evaded his grasp, causing him to hit the ground and dislodge his mask. Before he could replace it, the Fikou spun around and used its tail to deal a blow to the Onu-Matoran’s temple, sending him sprawling. Tehutti stepped forward and kicked the Rahi into the wall. While it was still stunned, he grabbed the container and slammed it down, capturing the creature once more. Keeping one hand firmly in place, he grabbed Mavrah’s mask and placed it back on his friend’s face. “Mavrah? Mavrah, are you alright?” Mavrah stirred. He sat up slowly, muttering, “Tehutti…? Ugh, what happened?” “The Rahi escaped,” Tehutti explained. “It struck you in the head…does it hurt?” Rubbing his wound, Mavrah said, “Rahi? What Rahi? How did we get here?” Mavrah’s eyes settled on the Fikou. He reacted with awe, shouting, “What the…?! Wow, amazing! A bioluminescent…Fikou? Or is it something different? Incredible!” He scurried up to the container, observing the Rahi with fresh interest. Confused, Tehutti said, “Um…you don’t remember it?” Mavrah shook his head. “Last thing I remember is…sorting some receipts and ticket stubs with Whenua.” “…Mavrah…that was yesterday.” “Yesterday? But it feels like I was just there…” It was then that Tehutti noticed venom dripping from the Fikou’s tail. As he figured out what was happening, he knelt and looked directly into Mavrah’s eyes. “Mavrah…I think, when this Rahi attacked you, it injected you with some venom that wiped some of your memory. About 24 hours worth, I would guess.” Mavrah thought for a moment. “…Oh…then we’d better be careful in transporting it upstairs.” Tehutti shook his head. “You still want to get it upstairs?” “You don’t? With a discovery like this, you’d really make a name for yourself!” “Hm?” “You found a remarkable specimen, Tehutti! I’m sure they’ll want to put it in an exhibit right away. Wow, your first exhibit…I’m a little jealous.” Tehutti’s gaze drifted to the Fikou. That’s right—he doesn’t remember discovering this thing. Now he thinks I’m the one who found it… After a few moments of silence, Mavrah asked, “Tehutti? Something wrong?” Tehutti grinned. “No…nothing at all. You’re right—we should get this upstairs. Thanks again for offering to help me.” “You owe me for taking a hit, though.” “Of course, Mavrah.” The two of them began to carefully move the container, goading the Fikou along. Tehutti found it difficult to concentrate. He was far too excited that he was finally, finally going to get an exhibit with his name on it. *** Mavrah walked in to find Tehutti with his head in his hands. “What’s wrong?” Tehutti didn’t respond. A message from the Head Archivist was lying on his desk, so Mavrah quietly pulled it closer. TEHUTTI We thank you for submitting the Fikou specimen for further review. I must inform you, however, that earlier we received a correspondence from a Ga-Metru school. Apparently, a group of students was conducting illegal experiments with energized protodermis and created several mutant Rahi, including a bioluminescent lizard-Fikou that found its way out into the city. We believe this specimen you discovered to be the escaped subject. Given this new information, I am afraid we cannot put the Fikou up on display, as it is both unnatural and the result of illegal activity. It is my dearest hope… Not needing to read the rest, Mavrah set the tablet down and looked back to Tehutti. “I’m so sorry, Tehutti. Maybe you’ll have better luck next time.”
  4. Blood-soaked fingers clutched the tablet firmly. A chisel was brought along its surface, carving an X over an image of a Kanohi Faxon. Now there are only five of them left… Setting the slab down, Vhisola went to clean her hands. She absent-mindedly mused over how much this project had expanded since she had begun so many months ago. Overcome with frustration one night, she had sat down and made a list: crude carvings of the Kanohi and names of all the Matoran who she held grudges against. There was some variety in the cause—stealing her Kanoka launcher, copying her notes, tripping her up in an akilini match—but most of her enemies shared in one particular sin. She ground her teeth together. They just won’t stay away from Nokama. Vhisola wiped the last of the blood from her hands and examined the rag. It was stained far too badly to disguise, so she merely tossed the evidence into her glowing fireplace and sat down before the tablet once again. They swarm her after class, and I can’t get a word in edgewise. Taking up her time with “tutoring sessions” and “scholarly debates” and whatever other excuse they can come up with. Did they really think I would be fooled? I know their true objective… She turned her head up, facing one of the many pictures of Nokama decorating her home. “They just want to keep us apart…” Her voice cracked slightly. Shaking her head slightly, Vhisola pounded her fist against the table and grunted. At some point in lamenting over these despicable acts, she had thought about the possibility of removing her enemies from the picture. How exactly, she did not know, but a change was necessary. That was when she started planning. Elimination was no easy task within Metru-Nui, with Vahki hiding around every corner and inside every chute. But Vhisola was persistent. She did not care how much effort it took, how elaborate her plans needed to be—this was to protect Nokama from the influence of the fiends seeking to corrupt her, and that was worth any cost. Vhisola’s eyes ran over the hit list. Every little X, all 43 of them, brought a shred of recollection to her mind and a smile to her face. Some methods had been crude, such as “accidentally” shoving a Matoran into a protodermis purification canal. Others, like trapping her victims in abandoned corners of the Archives with escaped exhibits, were personal favorites and had seen much use. Though results were the most important aspect, it was alright, Vhisola had decided, to attempt a little variety in her methods to further her enjoyment of the task. Her pleasant expression reversed as she reached the masks that remained unmarked. Just thinking about those fools still walking around, still spreading seeds of darkness in Nokama’s mind, made Vhisola so angry she could just— She paused. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and paced to the other side of the room, moving just slowly enough that she could admire every individual image of Nokama as she went by. It was a short distance, but her walk took a very long time to complete. Remember what Nokama says, Vhisola: you have to be patient. Just be patient, and wait for each plan to work. It’ll be fine. They can’t escape me. After all, there are only five of them left. There was a knock at the door. Moving swiftly but not frantically, Vhisola jogged back to the desk and slid the list into the bottom drawer beneath some seaweed samples. She next went to the door, leaned against it, and looked carefully through the hole she had carved into it. A Ga-Matoran with a Kanohi Volitak was waiting. “Vhisola? Are you home? I didn’t get the time wrong, did I…?” Vhisola smiled to herself. And soon, it’ll be down to four.
  5. Ehrye pushed open the crystalline door and strolled into the room. “Nuju, I have a delivery for you!” Not taking his eye off the telescope, Nuju said, “I have told you before, Ehrye: you must learn to knock.” “Well…do you want the delivery or not?” Nuju sighed. The scholar turned and snatched the tablet from Ehrye’s hand, noticing that its cloth covering had been unfolded. He gripped the item tightly. “You opened it.” Ehrye tried to back away slightly. “Well, I was curious. If I’m going to be a scholar someday, I need to start learning as much as I can. It’s some fascinating research you and Jaa are working on! I was wondering—“ Nuju held up his hand to silence the messenger. Very slowly, he walked over to his desk, set down the tablet, and then tapped his fingers a few times. Before long, he leaned down to open the bottom drawer and pulled out a stack of dusty tablets. He set them on the table, turned to Ehrye, and pointed to them. “Take these to Tower 19.” Ehrye’s eyes widened. “19?! You’re kidding!” Nuju said nothing. Remembering that the scholar never liked to repeat a request, Ehrye sullenly gathered the stone slabs into his bag and headed out the door. Tower 19 was far from Nuju’s tower, all the way at the border to Onu-Metru. But it wasn’t the long trip that bothered Ehrye. This particular Knowledge Tower had been designated as storage for things the scholars no longer saw any use for, with the intention being that they could be safely preserved until someone had use for them once more. However, in Ko-Metru, things with no further use for the future were considered little more than trash, and Tower 19 had become a thing of disgust. Nothing that went through its doors was ever seen again, earning its reputation as “the graveyard of ideas.” Scholars made use of it due to encouragement from Turaga Dume, but rarely travelled there themselves, leaving it a derogatory task assigned to messengers as punishment. This would be Ehrye’s tenth visit…or perhaps twelfth? He had lost count after dropping off Jaa’s disproven Spirit Star Theory. Regardless, it never became any less humiliating. When Ehrye stepped through the doors, he immediately spotted the tower’s caretaker asleep on his desk. He kicked the piece of furniture, providing enough vibration to jolt the old Matoran awake. “Huh?! Oh, Ehrye. Back so soon?” Ehrye scowled. “I have some old prediction logs from Nuju. Where do you want me to file them?” The caretaker mumbled to himself and went over some notes he had hastily chiseled down. The process took longer than Ehrye had hoped, but eventually he was directed to the far corner of the first floor, where an ancient cabinet topped with a pile of relics stood. Ehrye tried the door. It was stuck. He pulled harder to no avail, and then decided to give a violent tug. All he succeeded in doing was burying himself in a rain of debris. “Clean that up!” the caretaker shouted. “If it’s so difficult, then just leave the tablets there and I’ll put them away myself.” Ehrye dug himself out and sat up. A dizzy feeling overcame him, alerting him to the fact that his mask had been dislodged in the avalanche. Blindly grasping for it, he cut himself on the jagged edge of some glass object. Oh great. When at last he found his mask, Ehrye reattached it and sighed with relief. He took a good look at what he had cut his hand on: half of a broken globe of black glass with ancient star charts printed on it. Despite himself, Ehrye chuckled. This artifact was more infamous in Ko-Metru, for it was something else that became no less humiliating over time. Ages ago, an eccentric scholar had theorized that the world they inhabited was round and floated inside a shell imprinted with stars, which spun as the stars changed. Once the domes were discovered, that particular scholar had disappeared rather quickly. It seemed like a good place to start. Picking up the shattered globe, Ehrye stepped towards the ladder granting access to the top of the cabinet, but something made him pause. A tiny tablet could be seen inside the remains of the globe. Fishing it out, Ehrye squinted—tiny lettering had been carved into the piece of stone. Ehrye had trained himself to read small print (through reading the many detailed tablets of scholars that he had been tasked with delivering), so he was just barely able to make out the words: “In Ko-Metru, find where sky and ice are joined.” Ehrye frowned. What is this supposed to be? He absent-mindedly turned the stone over. On the side opposite the riddle, there was an image of a Kanoka with the code 429. A Great Disk. Gradually, the confusion gave way to surprised awe. Is this…a clue to finding Ko-Metru’s Great Disk?! The caretaker yawned loudly. Remembering that he was being watched, Ehrye tucked the stone into his bag and hurriedly cleaned up the mess. Once he was back on the street, he slipped into an alleyway and took another look at the small tablet. Ehrye was unsure how to proceed. If this really was a clue to the Great Disk’s location, he could easily rise to the rank of scholar—maybe even higher. But was a hint such as this really so reliable? It was likely planted by that eccentric scholar, and if he could be so wrong about one thing, perhaps he was wrong about this as well. He cast a glance back up at Tower 19. Cracks ran all along the crystal’s length, and there were places where entire chunks had been torn out. Ehrye smiled. If it’s wrong, no one will know. I’m not going to miss my chance. He ran off towards his next stop, already wondering which Knowledge Tower his office would be placed in.
  6. (Chronicle of Heresy has been officially cancelled. This collection will be left for organizational purposes, but it will not be expanded or followed up on.) I've been doing more brainstorming about Chronicle of Heresy. Spoiler alert: Ahkmou and the other Great Disk Matoran are going to become Shadow Toa. Ahkmou got a starring role in the short story that this story will be continuing off of, and I did write a Vhisola story a while back, but I got to thinking. Really, none of these characters (except maybe Ahkmou) have all that much screentime, so it would probably be a good idea to take some time and make at least one short story each fleshing out how I want to represent them in the story. So this will be a collection post for those stories. Not sure yet if they'll all be canonical with Chronicle of Heresy, but they'll be related, at least. And since I really am working uphill on this, feel free to offer suggestions on how you'd like to see these Matoran represented. -Bond of Heresy, focusing on Ahkmou -Abyssal Obsession, focusing on Vhisola -Cheatsheet, focusing on Vhisola -Hint to Greatness, focusing on Ehrye -Shattering the Mask, focusing on Nuhrii -Opportunity for Ambition, focusing on Tehutti -Jumping Off of a Perfectly Fine Gukko, focusing on Orkahm
  7. [On a different website, it was brought up that Vhisola had some tendencies similar to a quality referred to as "yandere" in Japanese media. I then took that idea and ran with it.] ABYSSAL OBSESSION Vhisola sat quietly, eyes fixated on the tiny tablet she held in her hand. Etched into the stone with loving detail was an image of Nokama, the teacher she had come to care so deeply about. The Ga-Matoran slowly drew her fingers down the side of the tablet. It’s all for you, Nokama…everything I do is for you… The sound of footsteps caught her attention. Carefully tucking the carving into her bag, Vhisola moved into a crouch and peered above the edge of the bulky fountain she was hiding behind. Being on the outskirts of Ga-Metru, the plaza was very rarely visited, so Turaga Dume saw no reason to assign any Vahki to guard the location. It was a perfect spot for Vhisola’s purposes. Through the darkness, she spotted another Ga-Matoran—Hara, a fellow student at the Ga-Metru schools. Hara had joined class only recently and had been struggling to keep up, so Nokama had offered to take some extra time to tutor her in order to help her catch up with the rest of the class. She’s trying to steal Nokama away from me. In Vhisola’s mind, any time Nokama spent with Hara was time the teacher could be spending with Vhisola. Her time with Nokama was precious, and Vhisola would not let anyone take it away. Hara would have to be the example. Using a Weaken Kanoka, Vhisola had broken into Hara’s desk and planted a message luring her to this location, then fixed it with a Regeneration disk to reduce suspicion. If the desk looked fine, Hara would assume the message came from someone who knew the combination to the lock—probably a friend or faculty member. The trap had worked, and the Matoran was now right where Vhisola wanted her. Just loud enough that Hara could hear, Vhisola croaked, “Help…please, help me…” Thinking another Matoran was in danger, Hara immediately bolted towards the fountain. Vhisola unlimbered her disk launcher, took aim, and fired. Aiming was often unnecessary with Ga-Metru disks, which flew according to the user’s thoughts, but Vhisola wanted to be sure there were no mistakes. The Kanoka struck Hara square in the mask and unleashed its freezing power. Her head now encased in a block of ice, Hara crawled toward the fountain as Vhisola stepped out of her hiding place. Vhisola mercilessly bashed her launcher into the back of Hara’s head, slamming her into the fountain and shattering the ice. Hara’s body went limp. After kicking her a few times, Vhisola was positive she was unconscious. “You shouldn’t have tried to come between me and Nokama.” Attaching the weapon to her back, Vhisola grabbed Hara’s ankles and dragged her across the plaza to a sealed trapdoor that served as an entrance to the Archives. As quietly as possible, Vhisola pried open the covering, checked to make sure no one was watching, and unceremoniously tossed Hara over the edge. She quickly climbed down on her own and verified Hara was still out. Taking hold of her by the ankles again, Vhisola dragged her deeper into the tunnel. It was not long before Vhisola spotted her goal: an old Kavinika exhibit that even the Archivists had forgotten was there. The sight filled her with savage excitement. In an earlier visit she had broken the outer shell—easily the most difficult part of this scheme—and now needed only to graze the inner layer to awaken the Rahi. Kavinika are so vicious, they’ll attack just about anything that moves. Groggy as she is, there’s no way Hara will be able to get away from it. Vhisola came to a stop a short distance away from the stasis tube. Letting go of her captive, she readied her disk launcher again and began backing up. When she was as far away as she could get while still having a clear shot, the crazed Matoran came to a halt and began to wait. Eerily still she stood, carefully watching both Hara and the wolf that would be her demise. It seemed like an eternity, but Vhisola remained patient—no effort was too great to protect her relationship with Nokama. At last, Hara stirred. Vhisola fired a disk, watched it strike the tube, and then turned and sprinted for the exit. Hissing filled the air as stasis gas leaked out, quickly replaced by the furious snarling of the Kavinika as it woke from its long rest. The Rahi broke its way out of the tube and looked around, eyes settling on Hara. Now conscious, the unfortunate Ga-Matoran sat up and clutched the side of her head. A low growl alerted her to the Kavinika’s presence. As she sealed the tunnel entrance, Vhisola could not help but smile at the faint screams that reached her ears. *** The next day, Vhisola happily walked into Nokama’s class as if nothing had happened. When class was over, she approached the teacher and asked if she would like to play some akilini. “Well…” Nokama muttered, looking out over the classroom, “I did have an appointment with Hara, but she doesn’t seem to be here today. I’d like to wait a few more minutes and see if she shows up, but if she doesn’t, I’d be delighted to join you.” Grinning, Vhisola returned to her desk and watched the clock patiently. She had nothing to worry about, after all. Hara wouldn’t be coming to steal Nokama away ever again.
  8. A sea of movement lay before his eyes. Matoran, Toa, and countless other species wove around each other as they ran between the shattered remains of what had once been the body of their Great Spirit and the slowly rising structure of a new village. Taken over by Makuta and rendered uninhabitable in combat, the massive robot that had once housed a universe was now being evacuated so a new life could begin on Spherus Magna. It was a beautiful scene—species long thought of as enemies working together for the greater good, with the natives of this world welcoming them with open arms. The sight filled him with disgust. From atop a cliff overlooking the crowd, Ahkmou scowled. The Po-Matoran had long been a valuable (or so he assumed) ally to the Makuta, and had been rewarded with control over the city of Metru-Nui once the villain’s plan reached completion. Then came the day the sky was torn open, Makuta killed, and Ahkmou found himself facing very, very real danger. Even those “noble” Toa would probably kill me on sight, he thought. I was lucky to escape before they found me. Chances are they either think I’m dead, or don’t care to see if I’m alive. A more sentimental being might be hurt by this realization. Ahkmou only grew angry. “I was supposed to be one of them,” he seethed. “If I had the power of a Toa, I could make them all bow to me again! I would make them suffer if my destiny hadn’t been stolen from me!” “Destiny? You cling to destiny…” Ahkmou suddenly felt cold. He dared not turn around to see who the harsh, contemptuous voice belonged to, merely remained still as a statue as the sound of footsteps grew steadily louder. A spear was thrust into the rock beside him, granting him view of the scaly hand that clutched it. “Another Matoran…one who wants to be a Toa. You should have died with your Great Spirit.” Ahkmou gulped. “I-I have no love f-for Mata Nui. I’m glad he’s g-gone.” The stranger replied with eerie silence, and Ahkmou found himself continuing to speak. “Maybe I am a Matoran, but it’s not like I chose to be. And I certainly don’t want to be a Toa like them!” He made a shaky gesture towards the Toa below. Seconds later, he could feel the stranger’s noxious breath battering him as a question formed: “Not like them? You are not like them?” His anger granting bravery, Ahkmou responded, “Of course not! I hate them!” The stranger chuckled, a terrible noise that sent a shiver down Ahkmou’s spine. “You hate them. Good, you hate them. We hate them too. Convince me that I shouldn’t hate you.” Words spilled out of Ahkmou, relating a brief summary of his most noteworthy deeds: plotting to steal the Great Disks only to be foiled by Toa; spreading a plague among his people only to be found out and punished by Turaga; feeling not the slightest inkling of guilt as he enslaved and commanded his fellow Matoran during his great (if short) reign over Metru-Nui. He spoke of how he was, without a doubt, the most hated, treacherous Matoran in the eyes of his species, and that he was perfectly fine with that. The stranger did nothing but listen attentively. “I don’t care what they think of me. I care that they won. Now I’m cursed to hide from them like a coward because the power I so rightfully deserve was robbed from me—stolen by Onewa and the others, and then ripped from my grasp by Mata Nui himself! I want that power back…I want to use it against them. All of them.” When Ahkmou was finished, he waited for the stranger’s reply. Moments later, a hand grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around before he could protest, bringing him mask-to-jaws with a Zyglak. A hideous grin was spread across the creature’s face. “Your hatred is real. You are an outcast. You are like us.” Ahkmou attempted to hide the terror in his eyes. He was unsuccessful. Letting go of him, the Zyglak added, “I think I won’t kill you. You are a Matoran, but not like the other Matoran…how interesting. We never expected to find something like you.” Pulling its spear out of the ground, the Zyglak turned and took a few steps away from Ahkmou. It then paused and looked back over its shoulder. “Perhaps I won’t hate you. Perhaps I’ll even give you a choice. Take your chances with me, or take your chances in the wild…or take your chances with them.” Ahkmou took a long, hard look at the Zyglak, fathoming the sheer depth of his fear for the monster. Then he looked back at the settlement the Toa were building, letting his bottomless rage wash over him. With a hateful smile, he turned and followed the Zyglak.
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