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Allison It is the morning that is most special to me. Not that I am a morning person - oh no. I am up at odd hours and dread the ringing clock that calls me to wake up and face the sun that burns my eyes and warms my skin beyond what I would prefer. No, I am not a morning person, but the morning (once my eyes no longer are hurting) is the most special time of day for me. It is pure, new, without the struggles of the coming day. She made the morning special, mainly because she wasn’t part of my morning. She was the signal that the time has come to put the (eye burning) peace of the sunrise aside and begin the long fight toward the death of nightfall. The morning makes the fight all the more important, all the more desperate, for if I must leave the peace of the innocent sunrise behind I must make sure I can see it again. I had to make sure that she can see it again. Where did it all begin? The afternoon of my life? It all began with her, the day she walked into the band hall, and I knew that I had to step out of the morning to hold hands with the night. Literally all eyes were on her, Mr. Hryorchuk was introducing her to us after all, but not all eyes were on her face, which was turned down to stare into the air near the ground. No. The eyes that could see were on the long, virgin white bandage that wrapped neatly around the forearm clamped tightly against her side. Few noticed the French Horn that dangled in her left hand. The French Horns noticed, and as their section leader I rejoiced that we now had a third member, but even my eyes were drawn immediately to the three, even, broad, bright red lines that stained the inside of the bandage, revealed only briefly when Mr. Hryorchuk slapped her back as he asked the band to welcome her to the class. I don’t even remember what went through my head while the band murmured a half-hearted welcome to this stranger named Allison who quickly, efficiently, and quietly took her place as my third-chair. We played our songs, Allison catching on quickly and the bell coming (too soon, looking back) to snap the tension of a classroom into the freedom of lunch. “French Horns always eat together,” my second chair, Gabie, beamed at our newbie. Gabie was the embodiment of morning to me. When I was to leave, she would step up more than I ever would have hoped when it came to being a leader in the band. Allison gave the smallest of smiles, and followed us as quietly as a predator moving through the night. The moment I knew would come as soon as I saw the lines – the moment I had hoped there would be sense enough, decency enough, to avoid – came. A boy, a trumpet (wouldn’t you know it?), whose name isn’t worth mentioning brushed past us three with a single word. “Cutter.” I could have punched the runt. Arrogant sophomore, he had no clue what kind of whirlwind he might have gotten if she hadn’t spoken first. “If you really think so, maybe you should let me demonstrate.” For the first words any of us had heard from her, these were not the ones that could have left the best first impression. The fact that they had come out in a low hiss with a long smile most of us had only seen in the movies did not help. The trumpet blanched and moved off, and we French Horns made our way (silently now) to the lunch room to take our place with the saxophones. As soon as we sat down with food, we broke the awkward silence to talk shop. How long had she played? What chair was she at her last school? Did she play anything else? Where was she from? Scores last year at Solo & Ensemble? All the gossip usual to band geeks. She even smiled at the end, until one of the saxes, one of my classmates, leapt onto the elephant we were so contentedly walking around. “What happened?” He asked, pointing at her arm, unconsciously relaxed on the table such that the lines, somewhat more ragged now than they had been. Allison immediately snapped her arm back to her chest, wincing. Her eyes went to the apple in her hand and she smoothly, almost mechanically answered, “Nothing a knife couldn’t cure.” My mind wanted a coin to flip. Fifty-fifty shot at whether she was ashamed or not. I honestly couldn’t tell at that point that the only shame she had was what was having to be “cured” and not how the “cure” was obtained. In any case, her words had the effect of silencing the table as she took one last bite at the apple in her hand and rose to leave. Gabie, my little morning child, sprang to assist and guide her around the school. I had a few words with the saxes, hoping to give Allison a chance before she exiled herself. I didn’t see Allison at all until school rang out for the day, out in the parking lot beneath that merciless sun. Her bandage had been changed, it was pure white now as she slipped on a jacket against the chill wind. I was making my way to my car and offered a ride. The ride to her family’s apartment was silent, for the most part. There was a mild discussion about fingerings between MLK Street and Anderson Street, but it wasn’t until we arrived that she said anything real. I wished her a good day, and a hope that she wouldn’t have to seek a cure tonight. I received back more than I had bargained for. She went slack, hunched over in my passenger seat, and began to speak. She asked me to imagine having to be the 11th grader who was in her third high school, knowing that your step-father’s inability to work would send you to another at the end of the year. She asked me to imagine waking each morning to a kitchen of beers and cold pizza a week old, to come home to a silent mother cleaning up the night in preparation for the evening. She asked me to imagine sleeping to dream the dreams of memories best forgotten, that you wished were forgotten, only to wake to find the memories of creeping hands and heavy breath resurfacing with renewed intensity from a childhood marked by nothing else. She asked me to think of only being able to say you truly owned one thing, and could only control one thing in your life. And so she left, and when I got home I sat in my car and stared into the distance, imagining. I never could think clearly, and now the tears that my control disallowed to be free clouded my mind like mocking voices to condemn me. How dare I wish what I wished her? And so I was handicapped all afternoon, until the sunset came: orange in the sky but red upon my arm. The night passed in clarity and confusion, in desperation and prayer. Silence and speech between age and youth. The morning is special to me. It brings a time to think with the previous day gone, dead. It brings a time to see forward on the day with nothing yet written on the slate. So I, with a virgin white bandage on my arm marred by a jagged line of red, bowed to my mother and left to school with a mind on the day ahead, catching Allison only just before she entered the junior wing. I touched her shoulder, my own bandage hidden by my jacket, and smiled before heading to my own classes. Band was fourth period. There would be time to speak, time to imagine, with morning now over. The new girl was known already among all the students I knew. On every tongue, for what seemed would be ages but was truly only a small while, was the bandage, fresh with the red life of its wearer. I could only speak of her being a French Horn. I never could speak well; translate my hesitant thoughts with my stupid mouth. Band came and went, lunch arrived and passed. Allison, she confessed too late, knew of the words spoken and held her head high during the next week. Then her name slipped out of the common gossip. She was a fixture of the school now, the girl who was proud until she spoke, quickly looking to the floor to keep the anger or sorrow from being read in her eyes. Though she wore her bandage openly, defiantly to those who could not know, my own bandage was never seen by any other than myself and my parents, nor did I need it ever again. I could now imagine, and because I could imagine my days became the fight to regain the morning, the special time when I did not have to imagine. I still gave Allison rides home, and eventually she gave me more to imagine, not knowing why she did. I didn’t know why she did, but I imagined, and I dreamed until I woke up in the morning where the sun could burn from my eyes the images of my imagining. Soon I began picking her up from school, and I no longer had to imagine some things, and my mornings ended too soon as she slowly transformed herself from night to day. Limps smoothed out on the short walk to my car, stray hairs combed into place before my car door was opened, wrinkled sleeves ironed away by unerring hands to cover the perpetual red lines. Ever polite, ever proud, ever effacing herself behind the mask of Allison, who had no bags beneath her eyes or purpled marks at the base of her throat. And so from the first step of hers towards me in the time before the afternoon I imagined and thought my clumsy thoughts. My father is a doctor in our city, and he leads the EMS, and I told him about the things I imagined and thought when the morning was over. He was silent as he departed my room that night so long ago when the sunset was twice red, and every day told me, “Just wait a little while more.” And so I waited a little while more, until the day Allison did not come out to my car, the day I did not touch her shoulder and did not eat with her at lunch. Not until the end of the day did I see her walk proudly into the school with her silent mother to get the work she had missed. It was several weeks before she would give me another thing to imagine, speaking strictly of band and choir and music theory during lunch and while riding home. Winter break was to come soon, and before school let out our band always held chair competitions so that those eager for it could be leaders. Allison was gunning for my chair, obviously, but I was not worried about that. Two weeks before school let out, I offered her the guest room at our house, offered the pure, soft mornings where no imagining had to take place. She declined, and again walked home from school. I saw her rarely during the break, dressed still in our school uniform, now with an ever present jacket to cover her arms I never again saw bare, whether her sleeves were long or short. On New Year’s Eve I heard a call go out over the EMS channel for an ambulance at Allison’s address. That night my father informed me an arrest had been made, and took me to give a deposition to the police at the hospital, standing at the foot of the wide bed where Allison lay like a broken bird, her mother gently sobbing into her hands. It made the headlines, but the inky lines did not contain what I had been told to imagine, to dream, to wonder, and to fight through until morning came. I have not seen Allison since, and I do not know where she is. There was no news, only rumors when she and her mother just left in the night. For ages her name was again on the tongues of the school, but eventually her story became a fixture of the school. The girl who came and went and left nothing behind: nothing but a note in locker 574 by the band hall telling Gabie goodbye and a stained, white bandage wrapped around a small, dull knife in locker 567 that I have kept ever since.
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I know this write-off happened weeks ago, but hey, I decided I liked this enough (and like it as it is and as short as it is) to see what others think. There is two changes between this and the original 15 minute spurt of typing. I added the "-" in "stone-workers" and changed "losing" to "risking" in sentence 6. Enjoy. ------------------ Throne The throne was ugly. Flat slabs of stone that had been laid close to each other, joined by whatever device the stone-workers had implemented. Grey, rough, unpolished stone cut at right angles with no curves to ease your body into. The guard carefully watched at the townspeople lifted the throne with ropes onto a wooden stage, also rough and unstained and (in some areas) with bark still attached to the planks. The whole thing was heavy with the scent of pine. You probably couldn't walk across it barefoot without risking a toe or two from infection by splinter. The throne was placed in the middle of the dais on a large rock that extended beneath the platform and into the ground. The ropes were yanked from underneath just as the procession neared the town square. “Hail the king!” someone cried, and everyone fell silent. Before their eyes a middle aged man, ragged and limping, was herded into the square by a group of guardsmen. He stumbled, hobbled, and walked dazedly, but as soon as “Hail” had been cried he stood straight up, startled, began to walk towards the platform. He reached the base of the steps up, and hesitated. A guard lashed out with a gauntleted fist and knocked the man down, kicking him until he scrambled up giving small sounds of pain as he tried to move gently across the wood to sit in the stone throne. “Hail the man that would be king!” the head of the guard cried, taking a brand from one of his fellows and thrusting it beneath the platform. Within minutes the structure was licked from side to side by flames, and the man in the middle could be seen to be huddled on the throne, sweating profusely. Heavy with resin, the structure burned remarkably fast until all that remained was the scorched rock in the middle, the withered man whimpering from burns, hunger, and thirst. “Hail, the man who is king! May the reign of the Throne of Fire be long!” The head guard called, dismissing the crowd to go silently home as their king was lowered from the ugly throne.
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This is my entry into the BBC Contest #63, Laris. I posted her in an earlier incarnation on the old forums. In this updated form she is a fire elemental. I based her head off of Kayru's 'Kayru Kitsune' MoC. Anatomical Poses against the grass bg like the one for the Pose are coming. The only changes between the two are a filling in of a gap you will see at the top of the tail.Posehttp://www.brickshel...is/imag0927.jpgFronthttp://www.brickshel...is/imag0909.jpgBackhttp://www.brickshel...is/imag0871.jpgArmhttp://www.brickshel...is/imag0873.jpgLeg and Tailhttp://www.brickshel...is/imag0875.jpgVarious PosesIn the Gardenhttp://www.brickshel...es/imag0899.jpgResting in the Sun (You can see the fill in on the tail in this picture)http://www.brickshel...es/imag0902.jpgIn the Darkhttp://www.brickshel...es/imag0893.jpgPlaying Pianohttp://www.brickshel...es/imag0895.jpgCandle Profilehttp://www.brickshel...es/imag0921.jpgChillin'http://www.brickshel...es/imag0907.jpgAnatomy Gallery - http://www.brickshel...ry.cgi?f=505204Poses Gallery - http://www.brickshel...ry.cgi?f=505206C&C is welcome, I will have the grass bg anatomical poses up as soon as I can get them off my phone...which may be a couple days.
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Stalking Shadows Detective Case File 257 - Status - Closed, Personal File of Toa Spawn of Teridax- "I really, really despise having to go through the courtroom process," Tomana groaned to Hanahlii over the videoscreen.- Ordinarily the Toa of Lightning would have felt a twinge of sympathy for her boss, but not this time.- "You send me out to Ta-Wiki all the time, and Xondahis testifies on all of our cases. You barely ever go, unless you are summoned or required by law." She grinned, "Get over it. If you didn't want to go, you shouldn't have handled the entire case by yourself."- As the founder and lead Investigator of Ko-Wiki based The Detective's Company, Tomana (the Detective of the company name, under whose license the others operated) had pulled rank and done all the work himself, forensics and ground-work, to uncover and bring down a smuggling ring. Consequently, he was tied up at the Great Courthouse until the trial was over.- "Remember," Tomana changed the subject, "we weren't able to satisfactorily link the group I took down with the Ringmaster, as our mole said we should have, nor were we able to find that Toa."- When Hanahlii had vindicated a candidate for, and now current holder of, the office of Le-Wiki District Attorney some months before, she had been able to information from a now deceased source that the Ringmaster had been funding the ring Tomana had brought down. Spawn had gone after the sniper that had shot the mole, but his quarry had disappeared just like Tomana's kidnapper had. Spawn could only say that the two were the same Toa. The Shadow Toa rockstar was about to start throwing Shadow bolts first and not bother with asking question, not when it might mean getting his man.- "Give Spawn full freedom to search for that Toa," Tomana said grimly, "I want him in the interrogation rooms at our Ta-Wiki office before I'm done with this trial. I have questions."- There was a loud whoop behind Hanahlii, followed by the sounds of Spawn grabbing his special pack and slamming the door as he ran out.- "He was always a bit enthusiastic about playing "Hide and Seek" while we were Matoran wasn't he?" Tomana smiled, and then slowly began to double over in laughter, Hanahlii joining in.* - * - *- "Have the Detectives been able to find anything?" Twilav drank the glass of water that Eleven handed him. Tomana had assigned Eleven, Toa of Air and Cheif of the Le-Wiki Police, to keep the Toa Effigia apprised of what they knew about the Ringmaster, which wasn't much.- "Tomana is in court testifying against a crime ring we suspect was funded and organized by the Ringmaster, but we can't get them to make a deal." Eleven grimaced at how little they knew about this master criminal. Even the species that the Ringmaster belonged to was a mystery.- "And the mysterious Toa?"- "Nothing, but Spawn is on the case. Tomana has given him full autonomy on this one. The Effigia have any leads?"- "Nothing that you don't know. Lord Oblivion and Biostane have done their best but-"- "They're oblivious?" Eleven grinned.- The two Toa looked at each other silently for a moment, then simultaneously let out a long "YEEEEAAAAAAAH!", their laughter echoing around the well-lit Onu-Wiki cavern the Effigia used as a headquarters. It was owned by Lord Oblivion, under his real name Xetrax of course. He had been wealthy as a Matoran, owning a mining company that had excavated the cavern roughly a year before the Detectives and Effigia had become Toa. When the Effigia had developed their extra powers, Xetrax had allowed them to practice there and eventually it had become their home.- "I sent Shad after the Toa last week. I don't expect to hear back from him for a while," Twilav said when they had calmed down.- "Ummm..." Eleven rubbed his Miru, "Spawn doesn't know Shadonix is out there... And you know how those two get."- "Oh..."- "This is going to be..."- "Bad, but interesting. Whoever catches interrogates?"- "Deal!"* - * - *- Shadonix, Toa Effigia of Shadow, used his secondary power of Explosions to send the door of Apartment 153 flying. Blanketing the rooms in Shadow, he rushed in shouting "Weapons down and hands up! Toa Effigia Snapdragon would like to have a word."- A ball of Fire came hurtling out of the darkness. Shadonix neutralized it by enveloping it in Shadow, letting the cover of dark fall away. The Skakdi he was hunting fired another volley out of a gun-shaped device. Shadonix dodged and snapped his fingers, causing the device to explode in its owner's hands.- "Put your hands over your head." Shadonix commanded, glaring at the Skakdi. The Skakdi took a step towards a sword hung on the wall. Shadonix held up a hand with his fingers poised to snap, saying "Step away from the weapon or it'll be your leg armor next."- The Skakdi paused and slowly moved to the center of the room he was in, raising he hands.- "Now," Shadonix pulled a sketches that Xetrax had made using Tomana's description and Spawn's camera shots, "I want you to give me information about this Toa." He walked over and held them up in front of the Skakdi's face.- "And why should I?" Shadonix's captive crossed his arms.- "I won't knock you out to leave you to be handled by the Wiki Nui police, with evidence of the crimes you've committed for the Ringmaster, courtesy of the Toa Effigia."- "Hmph," the Skakdi shook his head, "That Toa won't be let the likes of you get anywhere near her. The Ringmaster doesn't let just anyone into his inner ring."- "Inner ring, eh? Where can I find him."- "Him?" The Skakdi laughed, "The Ringmaster doesn't exactly let us common criminals know where he stays. For all I know he could be right downstairs in Apartment 53."- "I meant the Toa."- "Oh, I have only ever met her at-" he stopped as he heard sirens.- "Go on," Shadonix urged, "Someone had to have reported the explosion."- When the Skakdi explained, Shadonix put away the sketches. "I know that place," he grinned. "Tell the police that Toa Effigia Snapdragon ran through here, pursuing some criminal Toa."* - * - *- Spawn stepped down into the De-Shelek, a Ta-Wiki music club that he and Shadonix had debuted their old band in. He hadn't been in there since he had become a Toa. All over the large open room sat musicians with instruments in hand, silent at the moment as they listened to an old band called the Gukko play a long-time hit of theirs, Hotel Wiki Nui. When the all-male group of Vortixx finished, the whole club clapped and slowly began to slip into the chaos of several dozen musicians rehearsing.- "Angelus!" the owner called to Spawn by his stage name, "long time no see. Looking for fresh talent for the band? I know a few promising ones I can send over."- "Studio doesn't open for another month, Norak," Spawn smiled beneath his black Hau, "but go ahead and send some of the good ones to me when it does. I'm here on Detective business," Spawn pulled out the sketches Xetrax had made. "I'm looking for information on this Toa."- "Hmmm.... back of the room, right corner, tuning an old-fashioned acoustic guitar."- "The Water Toa?"- "No, can't you listen?" Norak, a De-Matoran, had learned to by instinct to listen to anything he wanted. The downside was that he thought everyone else should be able to as well. "She's just listening to how the instrument sounds, it actually belongs to the Matoran in front of her. I meant the Toa in shiny black armor with gold filigree. She's a regular, and a Toa of Light despite her armor."- "And she will know about this guy?"- "No," Norak grinned up at Spawn, "she is the Toa you are looking for."- Spawn looked at the Toa and then at the drawing. She was.- "Grab her!" Spawn yelled over the din of the practicing players.- A trio of Skakdi near her saw who had yelled and who he meant, but as they moved to catch the Toa of Light she ran towards the back door. Spawn ran at her, the sea of people parting for him as instantly as he took off, he was a minor legend outside the club but a major legend inside it. Spawn threw a bolt of Shadow at his target, catching her in the shoulder. She made it to the door, but as she opened it Spawn tackled her, falling through the open doorway and into a vortex of energy. They crashed to the ground, but not in the street Spawn knew to be beyond the De-Shelek backdoor.- The Toa at whose feet they had slammed backpedaled.- "Spawn?" a shocked Shadonix nearly yelled.- "No," Spawn grunted, "I'm Makuta himself. A little help?"- Shadonix moved to help, but hesitated. He wasn't in his Effigia armor, public action without activated armor on was the the top of the Forbidden list for an Effigia, and unless something distracted the people staring at him, Spawn and the Toa he had been heading across town to arrest he wasn't sure he was able to do anything.- His hesitation was all the Toa needed to push Spawn off and then down everyone around with a blast of Light.- Spawn rolled to his feet and took off after her, drawing a disc from his pack and throwing it at the fleeing Toa. It grazed her mask, shooting out wires that grappled around her head, making her stumble. Spawn caught up and snapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.- Shadonix took the advantage of people being distracted to activate the tech inside his armor, shifting it to "Snapdragon Mode". Clapping his hands he sent a wave of explosions down the street and around Spawn and the Toa. He ran down the street amidst the cries of "Look, it's Snapdragon!" and dove into the hole in the street he'd made.- "This is personal," Shadonix grunted as he rolled across the floor of the underground tunnel, ending up close enough to snap a second pair of cuffs around the ankles of the unconscious Toa of Light, "and I'm not letting you best me again, buddy." He grinned at Spawn, who was slowly getting up from beneath some light rubble. "Besides, as I understand it, our catch, our interrogation."- Shadonix touched the side of his Avohkki, turning on an embedded transmitter so he could talk to Cryptod. "Biostane," he said, enunciating so that each word would be understood, "I have apprehended a suspect. Report to my position and take her back to home base. She's a Light Element, High Priority."- "Hands off my arrest," Spawn stumbled to his feet.- "Really?" Shadonix kept grinning as Crptod appeared, "Two on one, one power against five?"- "Hey!" Cryptod looked up from kneeling beside the Toa, "You remembered the Shape-Shifting. By the way, she's a Toa of Light?"- "Yeah. It seems she like to play with her armor like we do."- "I said 'Hands off' ," Spawn pushed Cryptod away from the Toa, "Now lets do this the easy way and have you two leave before I just go Angelus on your-"- "Haha!" Shadonix laughed, "I'd like to see how Tomana would react to that one."- "Then I'll just Nova and-"- "You'd destroy the entire city!" Crytod's eyes went wide.- "Would I? Would I really?" Spawn smiled, his voice playful. "We can always find out."- Shadonix knew that tone of voice. It meant Spawn was about to try the impossible, and even when they were Matoran failing at the impossible wasn't one of Spawn's strong attributes.- "Get us out of here," Shadonix grabbed Cryptod by the shoulder. His partner nodded, and as the air around Spawn grew dark with the Shadow energy he was absorbing, the two Effigia teleported far beyond the boundaries of Wiki Nui to a small islet.- Spawn just smiled.* - * -*- In Ta-Wiki, in the offices that Tomana had rented in the Great Courthouse the Toa of Light and personal agent of the Ringmaster, Laria, sat in a darkened interrogation room bound with chains that drained her Elemental powers. She had been there alone she didn't know how long. The door banged open, making her jump. No light entered with the sound of footsteps. A cold voice spoke to her out of the darkness.- "We have a lot to talk about," Tomana sat down in the chair across from her, instinctively knowing where it was.- "And we have plenty of time to talk about it all," Spawn said from behind her.- It was time for answers.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Well Guys and Gals here is the next installment of the Heads and Tails story series. Written and posted, as usual, out of order, this one references two stories you haven't heard yet, one in the past and one in the future. The reference to the future isn't bladfaced, so make sure to look at who the characters are, and if you don't know their RL counterparts, look them up on here or over at BS01. I'm sure you can find something on them!Make sure you read the other stories in the H&T series, you can post about any of the old ones in the new story topics, or maybe I will eventually set up a library for that. Either way, read up and catch up!
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So I am going to post the end story, and then fill in the middle between my first few stories and this one, and then move ahead in time past this. It'll be fun, and I hope you all enjoy the ride as much as I do building it! ---- Twelve Steps - Twelve more steps. That is all I have to take. Twelve steps until I can finally rest in peace once more.- I am the Ringmaster. I run the largest crime ring on Wiki Nui. It was a masterpiece if I do say so myself. I once had rings within rings going, and wheels spinning within wheels. I was the center spike, the engine, the bottom line. I kept it all going, in order, and out of sight. Wiki Nui was my fiddle, and when I scraped my bow across its strings, my organization, the whole of it would sing to my tune.- My personal playing never happened often. To do so would cause far too much notice to be drawn to my quarter. A cog here or there lost to the impotent police of Wiki Nui was replaceable. A wheel taken out by the Toa Effigia or their legal counterparts, the self styled Detectives, was repairable, but if I was to be removed the whole mechanism would be shattered.- Eleven more steps.- I am the most powerful person in Wiki Nui. More powerful than Swert even, as some of the Sectra are on my payroll. Of course I didn't start out in this position. No, no. Faber est suae quisque fortunae. For those of you who don't pay attention to dimensional science, that's Latin, the dead language of some dimension an associate of mine discovered in a freak accident. It means "Every man is the artisan of his own fortune".- Ten more steps, ten more until I can embrace my future.- I won't bore you with the details of my life before I turned to crime. I will only tell you that I made masks. I had an idea one day, and from that idea blossomed my first heist. The Mask of Travel, a Kanohi dedicated solely to my purposes and my genius. I contacted a partner of mine, and he placed special crystals I created into the doorframes of my apartment, a bank, and a bathroom at the bank. We bled that bank dry, took the crystals back, and slowly used our newfound funds to begin building our crime ring. A few thousand here, a few thousand there and suddenly I had my own gang going, though I didn't tell anyone besides my inner ring about my Masks.- Nine more, eternal steps.- One day we did a job for a bigger crime ring, but found I didn't like the pay. I am more brilliant than their boss ever was, so why should he have been ordering me around? I killed him, the Agori piece of slime. His own people don't know that he is dead, even today. I can do it because he was paranoid, and only I was able to figure out who he was. Hehe, he ran his operation from the dark and there he died. Even my closest partner doesn't know I did it, he just knows I took control of that ring, and that from there we have grown more and more.- Eight left. I have worked it all out. Eight more steps and I will be done. The beginning of the end starts in eight steps.- I killed my original partner, and blamed it on a street thief. Slowly, I got rid of the first inner ring I had carried with me. I was in charge, and they were baggage. I crafted a new group of cunning people like myself, but only two know the secret of my Masks.- Seven slow, soft, stealthy, sovereign steps.- And so I am now the protosteel spike holding the Wiki Nui underground together, the cog that turns the wheels of the machine that is crime in this city. I am the target of every crime-fighter in the city, the target without a face, without a name. It was the press that gave me my name, the Ringmaster. I like it. My rings within rings attached to rings and wheels turning wheels within wheels.- Six steps to destiny. My goal is not far away.- It was like conducting an orchestra. With a mere wave of my hand the screams of the murdered would chorus out as a delicate, haunting melody to my ears, the scrape of steel would ring the harmony, the Ringmaster's Requiem in D minor. The wheels turn, the rings spin, and so my plans fall into place in dissonant chords that work so well to the advantage of my ears. Bliss.- Five steps more.- Until that Agori Agram was caught. A mere spoke for a wheel on the outer rings of my criminal empire, but nonetheless the investigation into him was dangerous to me. I personally oversaw getting his appeals through, the result of my Toa Sectra allies, and by the time he was convicted and the evidence had to be handed over, I had my plan in place, but bringing Tomana into my web did not suit in the end. The Agram evidence has been burned; I had a pair of officers paid off. I thought I had been safe, but the famous Detective Toa Tomana never stopped sniffing.- Four final, fatal steps.- That Toa thought he could bring me down, and he nearly has. But he is not me. I will solve this problem tonight. I will end the nuisance. I am not far from being able to do so with ease.- Three steps to serenity.- I have a network of crystals in doorways throughout the city, and I can use my mask to travel between them all. My genius will prevail.- Two steps.- And now I am here, in Tomana's quarters, knife in hand. I shall sleep with in peace, his death on my hands.- One more step.- The Effigia after the Detectives. I can finally be free.- No more steps. I have arrived. The time is–- Pain. Exquisite pain. The feeling of ice penetrating my armor.- I have been tricked.- I am....- I....- ....- I hear the Detective Toa speaking. I am under arrest. I hear ambulance sirens, and police sirens.- I will not be captured. No. Faber est suae quisque fortunae. I will escape.- Morior invictus.