The DISTORTION Anthology

[Voltex]

 

A tall, thin Toa of Water with jagged armor pitted and scarred from a thousand battles walked through the stark white halls, her feet clicking upon the floor with every step that she took. Every so often she would pass by gaps - entrances blocked by shimmering barriers of otherwise invisible energy impervious to harm. There were no signs, no directions; anyone who was supposed to be there knew how to get where they needed to be, and those that did not belong (on the rare occasion that it occurred) would be quickly dealt with.

 

She did not slow her pace as the hallway narrowed and various scanners extended from the walls and the ceiling. They scanned over her mind, her mask, her eyes, her weapons, her posture, everything. Double, triple, quadruple checking every single little piece of her, verifying her identity.

 

At the far end of the hallway, the only doorway inside the narrow section flashed green before the field blocking access to it vanished; behind her, a new field shimmered into place, blocking anyone else from following (not that any would have dared to do so).

 

“Give me a status update,” she ordered, striding into the room.

 

“No… you give one to me.”

 

The Toa of Water paused, her head turning to the side as her gaze narrowed on the Matoran of Shadow who had spoken. The bonds that had been holding him to the operating table (one of many present in the room, most of them filled) were gone, torn to shreds. Both of the operatives that she had assigned to look over the bodies were slumped against each other on the floor, blood oozing out of their necks.

 

“You play a dangerous game, Shadowhawk, and you play it callously,” she warned, stepping closer. “I do not take the deaths of my operatives likely.”

 

“Yeah?” the Shadow Matoran responded, his voice a guttural snarl. “Well I don’t take kindly to being some idiot Toa’s lab experiment. So we’re even. Who the Karz are you?”

 

“Do you truly wish to know?” she asked, her head tilting to the side as she stared at the Matoran. “For if I tell you… you shall be sworn to secrecy, or else killed.”

 

Shadowhawk barked out a harsh laugh. “You can try, lady. Nobody seems to be having much luck.”

 

“I have my methods.”

 

He shrugged, tapping the blade of a knife strapped to his thigh - it shifted, glinting in the light. Her eyes hardened into a glare.

 

“I am Helryx, the oldest Toa in the universe,” she said. “I lead an organization - the Order of Mata-Nui. We operate deep within the shadows - so deeply that none outside of our organization except White One have learned of our true nature.”

 

“True nature? What a bunch of baloney,” Shadowhawk muttered. “You’re just like Control - thinking you’re oh-so-special with all of your fancy gadgets.”

 

In the blink of an eye, Helryx lunged forward; she easily disarmed the Shadow Matoran, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him up against the wall. He struggled in her grip for a second before relaxing - whether due to resignation or some other sinister plan, the Toa could not tell (not that it mattered).

 

“Let me make one thing clear, Matoran,” she whispered, her voice cold and as sharp as a blade’s edge. “We are far more dangerous than Control. They were weak, sloppy, and short-minded.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Shadowhawk croaked. “Well they seemed to know… what was going on… in Metru-Nui. But… you don’t.”

 

“We know enough,” she said.

 

Helryx tossed the Shadow Matoran aside; he bounced across the floor before slamming into the wall and sliding back down. He remained in that position as he spoke again, sounding both exhausted and furious.

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

“A service,” she said, turning to face him.

 

“No,” he spat. “Kill me now, Toa, before I do it myself - I’m done doing jobs. Everything I had… everything I built… I’ve lost it all. Those Matoran…”

 

He trailed off, raising a shaking hand and pointing at the corpse of a Ta-Matoran sprawled across the operating table nearest to him - JiMing. There was undisguised hatred in the Shadow Matoran’s eyes.

 

“...they took everything from me. And it didn’t matter what I did, or who I turned to, they always. WON!”

 

He slammed his fist into the floor for emphasis; a loud crack was heard as both his wrist and the floor fractured from the impact, but Shadowhawk ignored it as he shoved himself to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes as he stalked over to stand beside JiMing, staring at Helryx.

 

“You are angry,” she said, speaking calmly. “I am merely suggesting that you focus it.”

 

“On what?!” he snarled.

 

“Thirty Matoran escaped the Coliseum,” she said, gesturing towards JiMing. “All of them allies with him. Working for the Matoran you all call ‘Voltex’, although he is an enigma we shall discuss later. They have travelled far away, through dimensions - I want you to hunt them down.”

 

“And kill them,” he said, starting to calm down.

 

“Do whatever it takes,” she said. “I want some of them - any of them - brought back alive for questioning. But it is your mission, should you choose to accept it.”

 

“Then I accept,” the Shadow Matoran whispered. “I’ll hunt them all.”

 

Helryx allowed a small smile to appear on her face.

 

“Good,” she said. “Then come with me… and let’s get started.”

 

The pieces were slowly falling into place.

 

It was time for the endgame to begin.

 

WELCOME TO THE DISTORTION ANTHOLOGY.

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Edited December 12, 2015 by Lucina

[fishers64]

Chapter 2: After the End
 
LETAGI
 
Of this being, his mind yawns open, 
Much curiosity to fill,
But his eyes divide and section
Leaving beauty beyond him still. 
 
His perspective is a eyelet, a turning winner's ball,
That turns him from misfortune,
Lest at the hand he fall. 
 
And yet he stands for nothing,
He has no interest in, the vices of the others,
The faults that bring their ends. 
 
Principles, without reason - for as of yet he has little to threaten his innocence, seeing that alone appears to be the cause of his good fortunes. 
 
---------------
 
It is, upon this reflection, that I am not quite as bitter as you may expect. While the passing of a dear friend is cause for much sorrow, and I have had much time for that, and there is the destruction of the city, which I must admit that I am not so fond, as this place has become bitter, a source of dust and ashes. 
 
It seems that I and Letagi share this same quality of innocence, although I must admit that I grew into this way over the revenges of time. It seemed that fishers was keen to recognize this, that we had not fallen into the ways of fighting and killing as all of the others did. It seems to be something she sought out in others, even as the blood marked her hands from the beginning. 
 
But alas, I know what the others do not. 
 
TEKULO
 
This being’s eyes, the world despise, and when he rise,
He colors it in a cheerful fiction,
A lighthearted spirit, filled with nonsense, covering his dissatisfaction.
 
Light shines on his face,
Cloaking the depths below,
A splendid disguise,
For a deadly foe.
 
In one day,
I did laugh.
Another day,
I wanted him to be free,
But I could not break his chain.
 
I am tempted to break this tablet, for I know that he is dead. But I suspect that many will rise like him in the coming days, in the wake of all of this destruction. Although – I suppose that free of the tyrannical rule of the White Council and the menace of Control, perhaps we can pick up the pieces and repair things. Perhaps, there might be bright days once again.
 
Let this story be a reminder that cheerfulness can arise from the darkest of places.
 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
I looked up from the tablet in my hands to see him standing at the door. He is tall, with a face that looks innocent, like you could tell him anything and he would keep it a secret for you. He probably would, actually – it’s what he would do with it that I have to say wouldn’t serve much – his bearing suggests that would be bad.
 
His name is Trinuma. He is here to know the truth, but I’m not sure I want to tell. He’s a disciplinarian – he uses whips instead of nods of understanding.
 
“Who are you?” he says. Most impolite – no small talk, just straight to the point. He should never consider a career as a sad old man’s personal life counsellor. Um-
 
“I’m an old scholar,” I answer. “I study the stars and make predictions.” I take my tablet and put it in my desk.
 
“Do you have a name?” he says. So negative-
 
“Kurhu,” I said, forcing myself to enunciate. “My name is Kurhu.”
 
“Do you know what happened here?” he says.
 
“Yes,” I said. “A big red star crashed here, leveled a third of the city, and sunk the Archives. But I suspect you want details.” I begin to walk out my door, only to see a Matoran I know to be FF trying to lift a Knowledge Tower back into position.
 
“That’s FF,” I said. “He’s a old friend of mine.”
 
FF snorted. “Yeah, right.”
 
“What did you say?” Trinuma said.
 
“Nothing, nothing,” FF said. “Just moving Voltex’s little Naming Day present off of the main thoroughfare. Just go ahead and watch, and don’t even try to help.”   
 
Trinuma sighed. But I moved on toward the sea, instinctively walking down toward the docks, like I have been for the past several years. “Who is Voltex?” Trinuma said.
 
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I think he killed one of my old friends who went bad. His name was Tekulo. He used to be so happy before, but then he tried to kill me, and he wasn’t happy anymore.”
 
We arrived at the dock. “There was a fisherwoman who used to live here, and then she died.” I looked down at my feet. “Tekulo killed her, I think, but he used someone else. He never did his dirty work himself.”
 
“Where is he?”
 
“Like I said, he’s dead now. Voltex killed him.”
 
“And how do you know all this?” Trinuma said.
 
“Word gets around,” I say, my voice flat. When you’re like me, you can go places and no one will care. Unless your name happens to be fishers. But she wasn’t looking for me. She was trying to forget I ever existed.
 
Except fishers never forgets anything. Unlike me – I forget a lot of things. But I still remember the important things.
 
“Come on,” I say, “there’s some people I want you to meet.”  
 
----------------------------------------------------
 
It’s bright and cheerful in Jed’s coffee shop. He pours me a cup and I try not to look at the holes in the walls, the imprint made by what I know used to be weapon racks.
 
“This place is a little worn down.” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “Jed, meet my new buddy Trinuma.”
 
“Hello,” Jed said, looking a little confused. I could see Sony edging out the door, trying not to be seen, and I really tried to ignore Nato sitting at the counter, knowing that it wasn’t coffee he was drinking and that neither of us were really up for a boxing match with a kangaroo.
 
Fortunately, Nato wasn’t really in the mood to show how drunk he was – he hopped on his kangaroo and rode away, looking like it was the happiest day in his life.
 
It was then – as I watched Nato ride off toward the door, I saw a junior Order Agent walk in and whisper something in Trinuma’s ear. Trinuma looked baffled, but walked out the door after him.
 
I smiled, finishing my coffee. “Nice work,” I said to Jed.
 
“It wasn’t my doing,” Jed said. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
 
I saw that he was telling the truth. “Well, somebody must have done something,” I said.
 
“You act as if we have something to hide,” Jed said, grinning at me.
“Not all of us,” I said with a grin. “Some of us are just old scholars.”
 
“And some of us just run beat up old coffee shops,” Jed said.
 
How long could it go on? I wondered. How long will there be a distortion of the facts, and when, finally, will we all be able to face up to the truth?
 
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[fishers64]

Chapter 3 – Before the End

 

It is upon these events, and these thoughts, that I have set out to record these words. Perhaps the truth may come forth once an undefeatable ambassador leads the way.

 

This story begins when I walked into a barlike establishment in the Southern Continent. It was a long time ago – before the White Council, before the menace –

 

I was walking with my friend Tekulo, and my other friend Jed. The two of us were happy to let Tekulo do most of the talking, even though the time of my silence had not yet come. The bartender, a rough-cut Southern Continent dweller named Nato, poured the three of us a glass. He was smart enough to know that me and Jed only drank water, and daft enough to joke about me being a learned man.

 

While that was indeed true, and my work on in the Knowledge Towers previously had been of high caliber, I had frequently found myself wandering the streets in trying to figure out if my star predictions actually came true. I found that in some sense, they were, but the details were often wrong. It was in so doing, I learned to write observations of the people around me, learning that in so doing I could make more accurate predictions.

 

However, this was not widely accepted in Ko-Metru, and I quickly became a laughingstock for my “crazy insight into the minds of others.” For some odd reason, this did not bother me, because…I predicted it. At least, I think that is the right answer.

 

“I still have plenty to learn,” I said to Nato, sipping my water.

 

“Yes, indeed,” hissed Nato. “Like the fact there is a sword coming for your head.”

 

I ducked, only for a Matoran I didn’t know to stand up behind me, meeting the sword with a large clang.

 

“Sony,” the Matoran said, nervous. “I uh-like your theories.” He stabbed at his opponent, forcing him away from me.

 

Jed pulled out his staff, but I waved him off. “There’s no need for violence here.”

 

“Excellent theory,” Tekulo said.

 

I sighed – just as a boomerang flew past me to smack my assailant in the face. It was then I recognized him as the nasty Matoran Cyrix, famous for being able to talk you out of your last penny and making you think you enjoyed it. Attempting to attack me with a sword wasn’t really his style. It seemed that he was trying to trick me into something. But if so, what?

 

I looked around the room, expecting to see a bomb or a weapon or something I might have overlooked. I suspected that the purpose of the attack was to draw my attention away from something else. Or draw someone else’s attention away from something else.

 

It was then I saw something through the dim bar window. “Pancakes, eggs and bacon,” Tekulo grumbled, as we all ran out of the way as a huge train smashed through the side of the bar and into the other side.

 

It was then I realized that the whole thing was a setup, to try to kill me or worse. But why? I looked at Cyrix, grinning on the floor at the end of the point of Sony’s blade. Then he shoved Sony aside and ran for the train, jumping aboard.

 

“Holy kohlii,” Tekulo said.

 

“I’m going to find out where it goes,” I said, running to hop on a flatbed car that was empty. My two buddies followed me.

 

It was then I realized that this whole thing was a setup…this train was on rails. The whole thing was designed to take us somewhere.

 

Somewhere bad.

 

“You guys run on ahead!” I shouted. The three of us barreled through the passenger cars, looking for Cyrix, when the train plunged into darkness. Lime-green lights flashed all around us.

 

My audio receptors prickled as I recognized the change in pressure. We were descending belowground. The three of us ran on to the front of the train, only to notice an unfamiliar figure with a scythe piloting the train. Later, I would know him as Voxumo, but now, I did not know him.

 

Jed pulled out his staff, only for Tekulo to wave him off. I understood – we weren’t going to get off this train and just go back to the bar in the Southern Continent.

 

We were stuck, for better or worse, going to our unknown destination.

 

* * *

 

After some time, we emerged from the depths of the ground and into an oddly enclosed building. Several menacing creatures emerged from the shadows and began to unload the few cargo cars on the train. We hid in the first passenger car behind the engine, terrified.

 

“…treasure…the Shadowed One will be pleased.”

 

“Where are the dead bodies?”

 

“Search the train. We cannot leave without them. Otherwise we will have to report a failure.”

 

I looked at my two friends. We headed toward the door furthest away from the voices, we thought, near where Voxumo was, keeping ourselves low to the ground. It was a vain exercise, however, as Voxumo himself walked in at that moment.

 

All three of us froze in terror as the door opened behind us. Jed hit the floor and pulled me down with him, but Tekulo pulled out a sword and slashed at Voxumo. Voxumo parried the slash with his scythe, knocking the sword out of the latter’s hand. Tekulo dived for the sword and as a result evaded having his head cut off by Voxumo’s next strike.

 

Tekulo slashed at Voxumo’s legs, only for the latter to jump back toward the door. My companion pressed his ground, kicking Voxumo out of the train car. It was then, for a moment, I thought we might have a chance. I got up, only for a throwing knife to shatter the train car’s window. It is fortunate that Jed pulled me down again in time, otherwise I would have been impaled.

 

The knife, as it were, hailed a worse menace, as a large and burly individual burst through the back door. Tekulo whirled to face him, only to get kicked through the open door behind him like so much trash. Me and Jed did not move from our terrified position under the car, until we were picked up and violently dashed against the floor. 

 

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[fishers64]

Chapter 4 – At the End

 

I fully expected to die, but that is not really what happened next. I remember the blur of motion, an unfamiliar room, and someone asking me a question, and me saying “I am a scholar.” I think I said a lot of other things too, but I don’t remember what they were. The Dark Hunters seemed to know a lot about me after this, so I always thought I must have told them.

 

Not that it really mattered to me. I had nothing to hide from them or from anyone else. At least, I didn’t then. I’m not so sure about now.

 

What happened after that, I’m not sure. All I know is that my spirit was either separated from my body or fused to it, or empowered. Maybe an odd mixture of all three. I remember this feeling nothing, of feeling everything, of being stronger, and then weaker. And pain. So much pain I would have gladly chosen death than endure further, and yet I could not die.

 

When I awoke, I did not understand myself. I touched my hand, and I could not feel the warmness of it. I felt numb in places, and every movement felt as if I was floating. I saw a being standing in front of me, a being tending the fire with energy wheels, causing it to flare hotter by turns.

 

I opened my lips, and found I could not speak. I tapped on the table, and touched my throat, trying to see if I had been damaged, and I came away with blood.

 

* * *

 

My throat bleed for weeks. They bound it up with cloths, but it still hurt, and told me not to speak. Instead, they shoved a tablet in my heads, and told me to write down what I heard. I did exactly as they said.

 

At any other time, I would have been more than happy to write of the goings and comings of people, but instead I was writing tales of torture, of executions, of treasure lost and treasure gained. Vile things, I wrote of, but I thought of it all as observations of the Dark Hunters around me.

 

I saw Tekulo sometimes. He told me that Jed had been set free and was now in Metru Nui. He also told me of the people that he had killed, and the things that he had stolen. I looked on the being that I called my friend, and wondered what had happened to him.

 

He made more jokes as time went on, making light of things that I hated, covering all of the horror with a sense of drama. I wanted to tell him of why he was wrong, that he was going towards destruction.

 

But alas, I could not speak.

 

Eventually, the day came when he told me he was going to help me escape. I nodded. He said he was going with me, and I thought he might have something good left in him.

 

My room, as it where, was near the Shadowed One’s throne room. I had not occasion to venture out for many long years for any leisure, so I was baffled as to how he would do it. Indeed, he came at a rare time when the Shadowed One was sleeping, and even then, he came with a strange device that made him invisible.

 

I remember him taking my cold hand in his and leading me through a maze of stone without a single word, taking me out and down to the coast. I had never been so excited in my life to see the stars.

 

A black, twisted being waited for us on the shore, near a boat. “Go,” Tekulo said, and the vile, wretched thing slunk off toward the fortress. Tekulo passed it something, and it vanished from my sight.

 

I got on the boat, deciding I did not wish to know of the wretch that had taken my place.

 

* * *

 

There were many places I could have gone at that moment, but instead I went home, living as best I could by the Ko-Metru docks. Or should I say, not living. I found I had no need for an energy recharge, and no amount of heat would ever get me warm. So instead, I sunk into my undead state and wandered about, making observations on tablets as I had done before.

 

That was, until the day I died. When I awoke in the ice fisherwoman’s boat, I found that I could indeed speak, for in dying, I had been restored. My hands were warm again. The vile criminal Cyrix, it appeared, had finally finished what he started, except his ignorance did not serve him.

 

It was in this time I went to see Control. For that was the name Tekulo had taken for himself. He jumped out of his chair at my presence and pointed a weapon at me. I raised my hands.

 

“I killed you,” he said. “I know I killed you…I saw it.”

 

I looked him. “I can never die, Tekulo. You know that.”

 

“I wasn’t informed of that little detail,” Control said. “I need you to stay away from me and my operatives. Do you understand?”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Agent 64 thinks that you’re dead. That’s why she’s here.”

 

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

 

He looked legitimately panicked. “Please, Kurhu, I’m trying to run an operation and stop the White Council and the Rebellion from destroying everything. Please, just don’t come back here again. I don’t want you to see this. I know you hate this sort of thing. For an old friend?”

 

“You’re trying to stop evil…by doing more evil,” I said steadily. I didn’t even mind the weapon pointed at me now. Maybe I would get powers the next time I was shot. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“It’s better than being killed and oppressed by a bunch of tyrants,” Control said. “We’re just trying to maintain the balance of power in the universe.”

 

“You’re no better than they are,” I said calmly. “I thought you were my friend, but I guess I was wrong.”

 

A long moment passed. I then realized that I had said all that I wanted to say.

 

“I’ll be leaving now,” I said. “Say hello to fishers for me.”

 

His eyes burned with rage. I knew that I had guessed correctly.

 

* * *

 

I went back to my hut by the docks. In time I would learn that truth from the lady herself, but I doubt she ever believed I was alive. It’s a difficult truth to accept.

 

I’m burying this where I am confident no fools can find it. I hope that you, dear reader, are wise enough not to look for goodness where there is truly none to be found, as I did.  

 

It is not alone I stand here. I see the light shining in from the sky above me. I know the truth, and just maybe the truth will serve.

 

“We’re going out there,” I say, looking on. Maybe we can finally escape this world of darkness and killing and tyranny. Maybe there is hope for wisdom, for knowledge, and finally, for something I’ve always wanted to do.

 

Start over.

 

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Edited January 16, 2016 by fishers64

[Pahrak Model ZX]

Reflection
 

Part 1

 

The Onu-Matoran named Underscore ran through the crowd, fighting his way against the current as fast as he could.  Being surrounded by so many Matoran made his task a difficult one.  So many eyes watching him, so many unpredictable entities who could take any action, a million fearful variables who could interfere with him.  How he wished they would disappear.

 

Darn Vahki!  I can’t miss this opportunity!

 

He narrowly avoided a collision, ducking aside before springing forward again, and angled his view upward: the arena was just ahead, wedged between two larger office buildings.  Matoran on ladders were peeling off the posters hung on its walls.

 

Oh no…don’t tell me…!

 

Finally jumping up the stairs, Underscore grabbed the door and pulled.  It was locked.

 

“Rats!”

 

He put his hands on his hips and sighed heavily.  Through the windows he could see a screen in the darkened lobby, with flashing letters that read: “TECHNIC COLISEUM FINAL TOURNAMENT MATCH, KOPAKA VS MILLENNIA: THE CHAMPION IS KOPAKA!”

 

“If only it weren’t for that Vahki checkpoint,” he said, looking mournfully at his ticket.  “The White Council is really overdoing it with all these ‘public safety’ measures…”

 

“Careful who hears that.”

 

Underscore’s heartlight jumped as he spun around.  Another Onu-Matoran was behind him, moving a ladder with help from a Po-Matoran.  He watched Underscore with eerily calm eyes from behind his Noble Shelek, making it difficult to tell what he was thinking and leaving Underscore with little indication of what he had meant.  His left arm looked slightly warped—Underscore tried not to stare.

 

“Uh, hahah!” Underscore laughed, scratching his head.  “Did I say the White Council was overdoing it?  I meant the…Fight Council!  They’re overly strict with deciding the times of these matches.”

 

The other Matoran stared at him.

 

“Come on, it’s not that bad a save.”

 

“I don’t think ‘Fight Council’ is a thing, so, eh, not a fantastic save,” the Po-Matoran said, adjusting his brown Great Matatu.  “But if they are a thing, then I really do need to a have a word with them; any chance you can get me in touch?”

 

Underscore chuckled.  “You miss a match too?”

 

“Nah, but I run them.”

 

Underscore blinked.  “…Run these?  The Technic Coliseum?”

 

The Po-Matoran nodded.

 

“You’re Pahrak?  Sorry, I didn’t recognize you.  You’ve changed masks since that article publicizing the Coliseum.”

 

Pahrak shrugged.  “I got tired of the Arthron look, figured I’d try something a little more classic-ish.  Anyway, what’s your name?”

 

“I’m Underscore.”

 

“Underscore, alright.  Well, Underscore, sorry you missed the match—I wanted to run it later but there were some scheduling conflicts on the network we were broadcasting on.”

 

“No, I would’ve made it if I didn’t get stopped by some Vahki on the way here.  You know the drill: show us your identification, what are you up to, you’re not planning to set a tack on the chair of a White Council member riiiiight?”

 

Pahrak laughed.  The other Matoran did not.  Shifting his weight, Underscore said, “Don’t think I recognize you, though.”

 

“My name is Nevermore,” he said, voice still totally calm.  “I saw Pahrak taking down posters as I was leaving and offered to help out.”

 

“Nevermore?” Underscore said.  “I should’ve guessed from your raven-black armor!”

 

As before, Pahrak thought it was funny, Nevermore didn’t seem to share the opinion.

 

“Guess I need to work on my material.”

 

“No, it was good,” Nevermore said.

 

“But you didn’t laugh.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I dislike the joke.”

 

“Laughter is usually the way one gauges the effectiveness of a joke.”

 

“Oh.  I apologize.”

 

“No, you don’t have to apologize…”

 

Pahrak cleared his throat.  “So, anyway, Underscore.  I feel bad that you missed the fight, so if you’d like, I can give you discounted tickets for next week’s match.  I’ll even make ‘em good seats!”

 

“Huh?” Underscore put his hands out and shook his head.  “No, you don’t have to do that!”

 

Edging forward, Pahrak said, “Come on, it’s Lava RoboRider vs Mark Surge!  Burnt rubber against lightning-swift justice, digital against mechanical, Wheel Talismans against, um…modified Zamor/Thornax Launchers!  Well, actually, I don’t think he’s programmed with one of those right now, so that won’t really…”

 

Nevermore looked at him sideways.  “You just want to boost your numbers.  Tickets for the first match after a tournament are always slow-selling.”

 

Pahrak stood still for a moment, and then leaned back.  “Well, I gotta do something, that article was months ago, my five minutes of fame are pretty much up.”

 

“Fifteen minutes of fame.”

 

“Nah, it was more like five.  Wait, are you jealous?  No need: for helping out like this, I can make your tickets free.”

 

Nevermore set up the ladder and climbed towards a poster.  “No thank you.  Slizer matches are the only ones I really look forward to.”

 

Pahrak put a hand to his face.  “Hm, Slizers…I think Flare is fighting Jet next month, you want passes to that?”

 

“…Possibly.”

 

“Not enough?  How about I add in a free t-shirt?”

 

Nevermore shook his head.

 

“Your pitch needs work,” Underscore commented.  “After offering the tickets you need to say ‘but wait, there’s more!’, and then describe the shirt with some exciting adjectives and say it’s a thirty dollar value, before reminding him that it’s absolutely free!”

 

Pahrak nodded.  “Mm-hm.  These are good points you make, Underscore.  I need adjectives like ‘innovative’ and ‘outstanding’ to sell things.”

 

“Patented?”

 

“Yes, patented, of course!  That will sell millions of shirts!”

 

“I thought the shirts were free, and it was the tickets you were trying to sell?”

 

Pahrak paused a moment, and then hung his head and shrugged.  “In my defense it was a big day, you know, lots of tickets to count, holographic projectors to calibrate, I had to reorganize my entire fantasy kolhii team this morning…”

 

Underscore put a hand over his heartlight.  “Such a struggle.  I’m with you, brother.”

 

Pahrak grinned and prepared his retort, but Nevermore interrupted, “Pahrak, we have a few more.”

 

“Oh, right, sorry!”

 

Leaping up the ladder, Pahrak said to Underscore, “If you have time, come by here tomorrow morning, we can find an upcoming match you want discounted tickets for so you can tell your friends what a great guy I am and bring in more business for me!”

 

“Sounds great.  I think I may take you up on that.”  Glancing at Nevermore, he added, “Don’t be surprised if you find me rapping at your chamber door.”

 

Pahrak snorted.  Nevermore looked at Underscore, silently nodded, and went back to work.  Underscore frowned.

 

“...Okay.  Bye.”

 

***

 

Nevermore glanced up the street as he followed the sidewalk, slipping from the reach of one light post straight into the brilliance of the next.  Craning his neck, he spotted a screen half-way up the building he was passing, and saw the time scroll along its surface—9:02 PM.

 

Seems that checkpoint took up more time than I thought.

 

Surveying the area revealed a familiar alleyway across the street.  Normally he had no problem taking the long way around, but on occasion, if time seemed short, this alley provided a very useful shortcut.  He saw no reason not to make use of it now.

 

After checking for traffic, Nevermore crossed into the alley.  It was wider than it looked, and not terribly cluttered either, with only two or three trash cans shoved against the wall.  At the other end he could see a tiny sliver of the street he lived on.  Stepping around the garbage, he made his way forward at a relaxed pace.

 

When he was almost through, someone else stepped into the alley behind him.  Slowing his feet a bit, he observed the figure without trying to hide it; they didn’t respond at first, but then moved forward, allowing just enough light from an overhead window to fall on their armor.

 

Nevermore stopped.  “Underscore?”

 

He reversed course.  The other Onu-Matoran waved sluggishly, saying, “Yes…it’s me…”

 

“I don’t recall seeing you in this area before.  Have you become lost?”

 

Underscore shook his head very slowly.  “No.  I’m not lost.”

 

“Is something wrong?  You seem far less animated than earlier.”

 

He shook his head.  “No.  Nothing’s wrong.”

 

Stopping a few paces away, Nevermore asked, “Do you have some sort of business nearby, then?”

 

“Yes.  I have business with you.”

 

“With me?  What would that be?”

 

Underscore smiled a bit.  “Another joke.”

 

Nevermore blinked.  “You followed me out here to tell me a joke?”

 

“You didn’t laugh earlier.  But this one…I think you’ll like very much.”

 

“…You take this quite seriously.  What is the joke?”

 

Underscore nodded, folding his hands behind his back.  “Knock knock.”

 

“Who’s there?”

 

“Kill.”

 

“Kill who?”

 

“Kill you.”

 

There was a blur of motion.  Nevermore reacted instinctively , twisting his body and stumbling away; his hands flew to his abdomen and clutched the wound that had appeared.  His eyes widened, fell to the wound for only a moment, and then looked back up, seeing Underscore brandishing a knife.

 

“Isn’t it funny?” Underscore said, his voice a monotone.  “Come on.  Laugh for me.”

 

He swung again.  Nevermore was able to dodge this time, but Underscore let his momentum carry him forward and spun, kicking his victim in the shoulder.  Nevermore rolled a bit, then flung himself to his feet and staggered towards the main street as fast as he could. Underscore tackled him from behind—they skidded to a halt just shy of the alley’s exit.

 

Leaning down to Nevermore’s ear, Underscore said, “Laugh.  This is funny.  Even you should be able to appreciate the humor here.”

 

Nevermore grunted as he felt the knife sink into his shoulder.

 

“Do you still not get it?  I’d really hate to spell it out.”

 

Underscore twisted the knife slightly.  Again, Nevermore grunted, but he refused to shout.  When the knife was finally withdrawn, he tried to shake his assailant off, only to find that Underscore was deceptively strong.

 

Underscore raised his knife.  “Seems someone needs to take a look at your sense of humor.  Allow me to examine you.”

 

He was about to plunge the weapon when he heard a sound.  Leaping off of Nevermore, he narrowly avoided a trash can lid as it flew by, and then turned to see a Fe-Matoran rushing down the alley with a dagger of his own.

 

“Maybe you should let a professional medic take over!”

 

Underscore parried the newcomer’s blade and scowled.  The Fe-Matoran kicked at his legs, so he jumped, kicked off the wall, and rolled across the ground to the other side of the alley.  Nevermore had his strength back and was making a low rush at him while the Fe-Matoran swung from the side.

 

Sneering, Underscore said, “Seems no one told you the rules.”

 

Neither of his foes was entirely sure what happened next.  Underscore’s body seemed to contort, and then he leapt straight up, making it all the way to the roof of the building behind him and grabbing onto its edge.  Nevermore collided with the wall.

 

“I’ll concede this time,” Underscore called down.  “Congratulations.  Use this opportunity wisely.”

 

And then he was gone.

 

The Fe-Matoran waited a few seconds, and then sheathed his weapon and leaned over Nevermore.  “Are you alright?  Let me see your wound.”

 

Nevermore pulled himself into a sitting position.  Even now his face was difficult to read, but the stranger didn’t remark.

 

Smiling, the Fe-Matoran said, “Checkpoints everywhere, but when you actually need Vahki they’re nowhere to be found.  Don’t worry, this isn’t bad; I’ll just patch it up and get you to the hospital.”

 

He pulled on a glove made of a gunmetal-colored mesh and held his palm over the wound.  The glove shone a bit, and the armor surrounding the wound started to rustle, painlessly stretching itself so that each edge could reach over the wound and lock together, forming a makeshift clot.  The Fe-Matoran sighed deeply as he removed the glove.

 

“That should do for now.  Can you stand?”

 

Gently, he helped Nevermore to his feet.  “Thank you,” Nevermore said.  “I’ll be fine from here.”

 

He exited the alleyway and started down the main street, the Fe-Matoran staying just a few steps behind.  “I think I should accompany you to the hospital just to be safe.”

 

Nevermore nodded and kept walking.

 

“I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself.  My name is Tomana.”

 

“I am Nevermore.”

 

“Did you know that Matoran who attacked you?”

 

“I encountered him earlier.  He told jokes, and I did not laugh.  When he attacked, it seemed my lackluster response to his humor was his motive for attempting to murder me.”

 

Tomana stumbled on his next step.  “…I see.  People have done more for less, I suppose.  If nothing else that should make it easy to turn him in to the Vahki.”

 

Nevermore hummed.  “But, it’s all rather peculiar.”

 

“You think there’s more to it?” Tomana asked, taking a few longer strides so he was walking beside Nevermore.

 

“If there is, then the Vahki will most certainly not find it.”

 

Tomana chuckled.  “No doubt.  But, the alternative?”

 

Finally turning to look at him, Nevermore said, “There are a few favors I can call in.”

 

***

 

The street leading to the Technic Coliseum facility was much less crowded today, Underscore was pleased to see.  The door was unlocked, so he stepped into the lobby, noticed Pahrak behind the desk, and called out.

 

“So, what fabulously discounted tickets are you ready to offer me?”

 

Pahrak looked up like a gunshot had gone off.  After his initial shock passed, he smiled awkwardly and greeted, “Ah, Underscore, you made it…uh, come in, come in, right this way, I think we should chat in my office, if you don’t mind.”

 

At the end of a short hallway was the door to a spacious, sparsely decorated office.  The lack of décor proved quite a boon, however, as it freed up plenty of space for the three other Matoran already waiting for them.

 

Underscore tensed as he entered the room.  Pahrak shut the door behind him and gestured, saying, “Please have a seat.  Hope you don’t mind, but these folks showed up earlier, and they have some news that, ah…well, it’s a bit disconcerting, you see, so I think we should probably address it.”

 

With a jerky nod, Underscore claimed the only open seat.  He looked at the others as Pahrak moved behind his bulky wooden desk: he recognized Nevermore, but the Fe-Matoran and Bo-Matoran did not look familiar.  Each watched him very closely.

 

Underscore wrung his hands together.  “I’m getting the strangest feeling there’s going to be a lynching.”

 

Pahrak spun in his swivel chair.  “Eheh, let’s hope not…so, um, this here is Letagi.”

 

He waved his arm towards the Bo-Matoran, who quietly pulled the case he was carrying onto his lap.

 

“Friend of Nevermore’s, I think?  Was that right?”

 

Nevermore nodded.

 

“Right.  Okay, anyway.  You know Nevermore, and I think you were supposed to know this guy too?”

 

Underscore turned to the Fe-Matoran and shook his head.  “Sorry, I must have forgotten.  Where did we meet, Mr…?”

 

“Tomana,” the Matoran said.  He seemed confused.  “As for where we met, we’ll get to that in a moment.”

 

“I apologize for the sudden inconvenience,” Nevermore said.  “We’d like to ask you some questions, Underscore.  And, if you don’t mind, we’d like you to answer them while connected to Letagi’s lie detector.”

 

Underscore eyed the case.  “Yeesh, this is getting pretty serious…”

 

He looked back to continue, but then he noticed the bandage on Nevermore’s side.  “You okay?  What happened?”

 

Nevermore looked to Tomana briefly before saying, “I’d prefer we do the questions first.”

 

Underscore blinked.  “…Okay.  I have no clue what’s going on, but I guess I can play along for now.”

 

Letagi opened his case and pulled a few wires from it, attaching them very precisely along Underscore’s right arm.  He flipped a switch and the technology in the case came alive, showing three fluctuating red waves on the screen that filled up most of one half of the bag.  He asked, “What is your name?”

 

Underscore laughed.  “You need me hooked to a lie detector for that?”

 

Letagi smiled and responded, “The first few questions are just to calibrate the device.  What is your name?”

 

“Underscore.”

 

Letagi twisted a dial.  “What is your Element?”

 

“I’m an Onu-Matoran.”

 

“How long have you lived in Metru-Nui?”

 

“It’s been two years now.  I’ve lived in BZ-Metru for the last seven months.”

 

Letagi turned to check a notebook, and then nodded.  “It’s ready.”

 

Nevermore locked eyes with Underscore.  “Where were you last night at around 9 PM?”

 

Underscore cocked his head.  “Huh?”

 

“Please answer the question.”

 

“Okay…let’s see, about 9?  I was probably at the library.  I’m not exactly sure when I got off the chute from Onu-Metru, but I think it was around that time.”

 

Letagi silently nodded to Tomana.

 

“Is there someone who saw you there?  Someone we can talk to?”

 

Underscore rubbed his neck.  “It’s not like I was meeting anyone.  I’m sure one of the librarians saw me, though.”

 

Pahrak quietly stepped out of the room.

 

“We’ll look into that,” Nevermore said.  “Have you ever met Tomana before?”

 

“Not that I can recall, no, but I’m sure you’re a wonderful Matoran and we’d make great friends.”

 

Letagi nodded again, and Tomana rested his head on his fist.

 

Underscore shifted in his seat.  “So, any chance I can get an explanation?”

 

“We’re nearly done,” Nevermore said.  “Tell me: do you know how I received this wound?”

 

“I just asked about it.  Isn’t my answer obvious?”

 

“Please repeat it.”

 

Turning toward Letagi, Underscore sighed, “No, I have no idea where you got that wound.”

 

With one final nod, Letagi said, “It’s all completely true.  I didn’t pick up anything to indicate he was lying.”

 

“The mystery deepens, then,” Tomana muttered.  “Thank you, Letagi, I think you can unhook him now.”

 

As the wires were being removed from his arm, Underscore said, “Great, I’m telling the truth.  So can you tell me what it was you thought I was lying about?”

 

Nevermore leaned back in his chair.  “Last night, I was attacked by someone who looked and acted exactly the same as you.  They even answered to your name and had knowledge of our encounter outside this facility.  Their stated intent was to kill me, and likely would have if not for Tomana’s aid.”

 

Underscore stared at him for a moment. Then he started to laugh. “Okay, good one.  I like the absurdity of it.  But you didn’t do all this just for one punchline—what’s really going on?”

 

“I’m afraid he is not joking, Underscore,” Tomana said.  “The person I saw attacking Nevermore looked exactly like you.”

 

There was a period of silence.  Pahrak came back into the room, saying, “One of my employees is headed to the library now, they should be able to…sorry, did I come in at a bad time…?”

 

“Hang on,” Underscore said, “for real?  This person was pretending to be me?  You actually thought it was me?”

 

“The resemblance was well beyond uncanny,” Nevermore said.

 

“In the dark?  Come on, do I really seem like the kind of guy who would attack an innocent Matoran?“

 

“I admit to having doubts.  That is why I chose to ask Letagi to help us intercept you here rather than alert the Vahki.  However, even now we don’t understand what’s truly going on.”

 

“Maybe it’s an Underscore from an alternate universe?” Pahrak suggested.

 

Letagi chuckled, “Pahrak, that’s incredibly unlikely.  Even assuming the multiple worlds theory holds up, the barriers between the worlds must be incredibly difficult to traverse in order to maintain—“

 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Pahrak said, looking dejected.  “I just wanted to contribute to the conversation was all…”

 

Underscore crossed his arms.  “At least we know that it isn’t me.”

 

Tomana shook his head.  “Not necessarily.  It’s possible that you don’t remember making the attack.”

 

Underscore gritted his teeth.  “You saying I’m crazy or something?”

 

Tomana calmly replied, “I would never mean that.  We need to consider all options, and if you do have a condition that is causing this, we’ll be sure to get you treatment.”

 

“Great.”  Underscore stood.  “While you track down my medical records, I’m going to go someplace people don’t think I’m a murderer.”

 

Pahrak blocked the door.  “Hey, no one here thinks you’re a murderer…now.  Now that we have the lie detector test in and everything, I mean.  But, listen, there might be something to the mental condition thing, and if there is, we need to keep a close eye on you.  And, really, even if you don’t, and this isn’t you at all, just someone trying to frame you for whatever reason—do you know anyone who would want to frame you?  A-Anyway, if it’s something like that, then you’re probably safer here anyway.  Go out there and someone else who got attacked by Not You might see you, call the Vahki, and, well…”

 

Letagi put a hand on Underscore’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry for all this, Underscore.  But for now, maybe you, Pahrak, and I should stay here in the Technic Coliseum.  We’ll be able to take care of things much more quickly this way.  Once it’s settled, you’ll be free to go, and we’ll try to find some way to make it up to you.”

 

“…You’re not going to take no for an answer,” Underscore grumbled.  “Where will you be keeping me?”

 

“I have some barrack-type rooms in the south wing,” Pahrak said.  “They haven’t been used much, holograms don’t really need barracks, so just give me a little time to tidy them up before I show ‘em to you.  You and Letagi feel free to look around in the meantime—we’ve got plenty of stuff to do around here, even if there’s no fight going on.”

 

Pahrak left again, leaving the door open this time.  As Nevermore and Tomana stood up, Underscore asked them, “If you’re not going to be pitching in with the jail keeper duty, then what are you doing?”

 

“I’m going to review some medical files,” Tomana said.  “I expect to be back once I’ve compiled all the relevant materials so that I can begin a proper evaluation.”

 

“I will be, essentially, acting as bait,” Nevermore said.  “If this is a separate individual, they will likely wish to make another attempt on my life.  I will offer them an opportunity.”

 

The two of them left, and then Underscore and Letagi finally abandoned the office as well.  “So,” Underscore asked, “what do you want to do first, pal?”

 

“I know you aren’t enjoying this, but please don’t think I’m against you,” Letagi said.  “I’m a scientist: all I want is an explanation, and I’ll be totally objective in finding it.”

 

“Right.  Let me ask you a science question, then.  If a tree falls in the middle of the forest…”

 

***

 

Tomana tightly clutched his briefcase as he exited the chute station.  Procuring the necessary files had taken far too much time, and the streets of BZ-Metru were already dark and nearly deserted.

 

It’ll take about twenty minutes still just to reach the Technic Coliseum.  Underscore might be asleep by now…best not to disturb him.  I suppose I’ll just spend the night there as well, and then begin my evaluation first thing in the morning.

 

He heard a crash from a nearby alley and paused.  No other sounds followed, so he continued on his way, a bit more slowly now.  When he reached an intersection he looked back over his shoulder—someone stepped behind a mailbox just as he looked back, so far away that that was enough to obscure them from view.

 

…I suppose this means getting these files was pointless.  It really is someone else.

 

Tomana crossed the street and thought fast, eyes scanning the road ahead for anything that might give him an advantage.  His gaze caught on the street sign.  A memory flickered in his mind, and after taking a deep breath, he turned down an alleyway and slowed to a crawl.

 

He stopped when his pursuer entered the alley.  Facing them, he asked, “Is that you, Underscore?”

 

The other Matoran advanced slowly.  “Yes.  It’s me.”

 

Tomana inched towards the opposite side of the alley.  “Really?  What have you been doing all day?”

 

Underscore smiled.  “Preparing some new material.  I’ve got some new jokes that I’m sure will kill.”

 

Tomana took another step back and chuckled.  “Was that before or after you visited the Technic Coliseum?”

 

“…After.  I met Pahrak there and got some tickets, and then I spent the rest of the day tracking you down.”

 

Tomana shook his head.  “Your cover’s blown.  Nevermore and I met him there—Underscore’s been detained ever since.”

 

Underscore frowned, stopping in his tracks.

 

“That rules out some of my theories.  You’re trying to frame him, then?  Are you carrying some sort of grudge?”

 

Underscore looked at the ground.  He mumbled, “How unfortunate…well…I suppose there’s no need to hold back now.”

 

He started to move forward again.  Tomana maintained the distance.  “There’s no need for this.  Just tell me who you really are and—“

 

“I have a better idea.  Why don’t I tell you who you really are?”

 

Underscore smiled viciously.  His eyes gleamed, and his body seemed to liquefy as he chanted:

 

“Mirror, mirror, make thy call: which of them is next to fall?”

 

Tomana froze in horror as Underscore’s melting body swelled and reshaped itself, coming back together in the form of another Matoran, one whose armor was metallic gray and burnt orange.

 

The attacker, now identical to Tomana, continued in the same rhythmic tone:

 

“Wishes to heal do fill your heart, stemming from its darkest part.”

 

He raised one arm.  The armor dripped off of it, revealing the metal bones beneath.  Tomana’s jaw dropped.

 

“Metal and flesh are much the same, thus curses follow your Element’s name.”

 

The flesh that had fallen then curled back up, slinking its way into “Tomana”’s hand, where it reformed into a pulsing heartlight.

 

“Save as many as you can…”

 

“Tomana” squeezed until the organ crumbled.

 

“Yet still you hold life within your hand.”

 

The disfigured heartlight melted away, using itself to patch the bare bone it had originated from.  As the doppelganger came forward, Tomana found himself locked in place at first, unable to move, unable to even form a clear thought.  The attacker had cut the distance between them in half when a single thought finally came to Tomana.

 

No.

 

The Matoran turned and ran.  With a grin, his reflection gave chase.

 

 

REVIEW TOPIC

[Pahrak Model ZX]

Reflection
 

Part 2

 

Underscore sat on a bench in the lobby, staring blankly at the main screen as it cycled between the same eight advertisements.  Pahrak was behind the counter, half-watching him, half-mashing buttons on his keyboard.

 

A frantic knock at the door made them both jump.  Tomana beat his fist against the glass, breathing heavily with a frightened look in his eye.  Pahrak gave a curious glance to Underscore, and then unlocked the door, letting Tomana barrel in.  He locked the door again and then turned to ask what was going on.

 

“It’s not Underscore,” Tomana panted.  “It’s a shapeshifter.”

 

“…Oh, okay,” Pahrak said, nodding slowly.  “Sorry, Underscore, guess we sort of jumped the gun.”

 

“I told you it wasn’t me!” Underscore said.  “Gosh, I can’t believe I lost a whole day to this…”

 

“Yeah, but I mean, to be fair: how were we supposed to know?  Look, we’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

 

“It’ll take a lot to make up for accusing me of murder.”

 

“Well, attempted murder, if you want to get technical…”

 

Tomana gaped at the two of them.  “...It seems you don’t understand.  There’s a murderous shapeshifter out there who is looking for me and Nevermore.”

 

“No, yeah, I get that,” Pahrak said, “but it’s not like they’re here right now, y’know?  So why worry?”

 

There was another knock at the door.  He turned to see another Tomana standing outside.

 

“Oh, that’s probably them, huh?”

 

The shapeshifter slowly looked over the three of them.

 

Backing away, Underscore said, “S-So, what do we do?”

 

Pahrak scratched his head.  “Ah, well…there’s still no real reason to panic, right?  They’re out there, we’re in here, it’s all good!”

 

The shapeshifted lifted one hand, made a fist, and punched the door.  The glass shattered instantly.

 

“Although, I guess they could do, you know, that…so maybe a little panic is actually justified…but—“

 

Underscore clamped one hand over Pahrak’s mouth and pulled him back.  “Stop!  Don’t start a running joke, just run!”

 

The shapeshifter stepped around the glass.  The Matoran shuffled away from them, watching closely in case they made a move.

 

Drawing their knife and examining it, the shapeshifter said, “Well-played, Tomana.  You nearly lost me when we passed that Vahki Hive.  But, now that I’ve taken your form, I have your memories.  It was obvious you would be making your way back here.”

 

They smiled.  “What’s more, your medical knowledge will be incredibly useful.  Knowing everything about how the Matoran body works, how best to disable it, how much pain it can endure…quite useful indeed.”

 

Leaning towards Underscore, Pahrak whispered, “Hey, uh, are we just going to stand here and listen to their whole speech, or are we—“

 

He cut himself off when the shapeshifter looked at him.  “You shouldn’t have gotten involved in this.”

 

Pahrak shrugged.  “Eh, you know, someone who helped me thought they were gonna get murdered by someone I was about to see, it only made good sense to—“

 

He slammed his fist onto the counter, hitting the intercom.  “It’s a shapeshifter and it’s in the building!”

 

As his shout was transmitted over the speakers, the shapeshifter rushed forward.  Tomana and Underscore could only stumble out of the way in shock.  Pahrak managed to jump clear, flinging himself against the wall as the shapeshifter broke the intercom; he elbowed one of the panels and it slid aside, revealing a silver blade that he pulled out to parry the next dagger attack.

 

Underscore tried running for the door.  The shapeshifter grabbed his shoulder and threw him down the hallway, where he rolled onto his feet and ran further in.

 

“No, we need to stick together!” Pahrak called.

 

The shapeshifter kicked him in the side, sending him half-way across the room, and then turned to Tomana.

 

“What could drive you to this?” they asked.  “You seemed so dedicated to becoming a healer, and now you’re a murderer.  Or, was this your goal all along?  Was this the reason you had such zeal?  I’m guessing that’s what they’ll assume when they hear what you’ve done.”

 

“N…no one will believe that you’re me,” Tomana whispered.

 

“They will.  Didn’t you know?  Everyone’s already afraid of you, Tomana.  Someone of Iron is always to be feared.”

 

“No!  You’re just…you’re only saying what you think will…”

 

The shapeshifter lifted their dagger.  That was when Pahrak sprang up, jabbing the pommel of his weapon into the enemy’s mask.  They stumbled about, disoriented; Pahrak gave Tomana a small shove and they both ran down a hallway, slipping around a corner before the killer recovered.

 

Readjusting their mask, the shapeshifter smiled.  “Good.  It should be more interesting this way.”

 

***

 

Letagi advanced as quietly as he could.  The lights had been turned down to save power, but he could still make out the general shape of the hallway.

 

This is a difficult situation.  If it’s a shapeshifter, then I can’t be sure who’s who.  I suppose I could leave and get the Vahki, but they might just knock us all out and find out who the shifter is later.

 

He heard footsteps.  Slowing in response, he continued forward until he saw Underscore run out from around a corner; the Onu-Matoran spotted him, jumped, and skidded to a halt.

 

“Letagi!” he said.  “Come on, help me find a way out of here!  The shapeshifter was at the main door, but there has to be another exit, right?”

 

Letagi watched him silently.

 

“…W…what is it?”

 

Hesitantly, Letagi said, “I don’t know that you’re really Underscore.”

 

“What?  Of course I am, who…”

 

He paused, sighing in frustration.  “I’m not the shapeshifter, alright?  They were back in the lobby!”

 

“But that could be a lie,” Letagi said.  “From what I’ve heard, it sounds like this shifter wants people to let their guard down so they’ll be easy to kill, so you’ll forgive me if I’m cautious.”

 

Underscore groaned.  “So I’m still being blamed for things I didn’t do!”

 

Suddenly Underscore scrambled against the wall.  Letagi was confused until he saw Nevermore emerge from the hallway, his steps not making a single sound.

 

“H-Hey, stay back!” Underscore said.

 

Nevermore glanced him over.  “…Of course.  With a shapeshifter about, any one of us could be the killer.”

 

Letagi nodded.  “Without a way to verify our identities, I don’t see a way to break this stalemate.”

 

“Can’t we just ask each other questions or something?” Underscore suggested, quickly looking between the both of them.  “I mean, you two are friends, right?  You should each know stuff about each other.”

 

“That’s not reliable either,” Letagi said, watching as Nevermore took a half-step to the side.  “I read about shapeshifters once, while I was doing some research in the Archives: some species capable of it obtain the memories of their target in addition to physical attributes, making their imitation more effective.”

 

“Then I suppose we simply stand here,” Nevermore said.

 

Underscore dug his fingers into his head.  Nevermore eyed him, and then quickly looked back to Letagi.

 

SPLAT

 

They jumped at the sound.  A few seconds later, laughing could be heard, causing the three Matoran to look around in a panic.

 

“Where would be the fun in that?” asked a coarse voice.  “If you insist, I’ll give you a push.”

 

SPLAT

 

Looking up, Letagi saw an air vent in the ceiling.  Globs of some substance he could not identify were seeping through the openings, dripping onto the floor in the middle of the three of them.

 

“Mirror, mirror, make thy call: which of them is next to fall?”

 

As more of the slime fell, it began to shake and merge into a single pile, taking on a blue-green color as it grew larger and started to shape itself.

 

“A body that may never die, and yet still you fear me—why?”

 

The slime continued to drip, coming together in a Matoran shape.  Nevermore watched wide-eyed, while Underscore pressed his back against the wall.  The torso formed, and when one arm was completed it was raised, reaching out and offering its hand to a shaking Letagi.

 

“Or open arms they may well be, calling out to death and me: ‘Take from me this lonesome life, unite me with friends long-lost to strife.’”

 

When the shifter finally finished transforming, Letagi looked at the reflection before him, trying desperately to think of the most rational way to respond.

 

The mirror smiled softly.  “You can see them again, Letagi.  I’ll take you to them.  Your friends are waiting for you.”

 

Letagi gulped.  “I…I guess you do get our memories, then.”

 

The mirror stepped forward.  Holding his ground, Letagi continued, “But, come on.  Do you really think this is going to work?  I’m not going to be convinced to let you murder me.”

 

Nevermore drew the blade he was carrying and lunged.  The mirror ducked under his swing and backed their elbow into the wound in his abdomen, causing him to stumble and nearly drop his weapon.

 

“Murder.  You all seem to like that word.  This is sport.”

 

Letagi scowled.  “Sport?  You’re just here to kill us for fun?”

 

The mirror’s grin widened, taking on a savage look.  “The Rahi in the wilds simply pose no challenge to me anymore.  You Matoran are fascinating, in your own limited way.  You’re more resourceful, better able to adapt and to solve problems.  Hunting you is much more fun.”

 

They spun and kicked Nevermore across the floor.  Next they turned to Underscore, who immediately broke into a sprint.  The mirror ran forward and intercepted him, using their whole body to pin him to the wall.

 

Quickly, Letagi said, “S-So, why are you sticking to our forms?  I’m sure there are plenty of Rahi you could turn into who are much better equipped for killing.”

 

Underscore shouted, “Don’t give them ideas!  I don’t want to die!”

 

The mirror looked back at Letagi.  “Even if you’re more interesting than Rahi, using every form I know would make this end too soon.  This handicap makes it more challenging…almost fair.  And…”

 

They went back to Underscore.  “The look on your faces is priceless.  Seeing another you, being taunted with your darkest fears, having to watch yourself kill your friends…you Matoran are so easy to terrify!”

 

Nevermore was back on his feet.  He moved forward, sword in hand, but the mirror turned and held Underscore out, turning his thrashing prisoner into a shield that convinced Nevermore to hang back.  The mirror laughed as they drew their knife.

 

“Of course, you’re a bit less fun, Letagi.  You’ve never been afraid of what you might end up doing if you lost control.  Such an orderly, reasonable mind you have.  And Underscore here…he’s already broken.”

 

Underscore shouted out.  With a short chuckle, the mirror threw him at Letagi; Nevermore responded immediately, running and making a wide swing.  The mirror parried and thrust their free hand forward, ripping Nevermore’s mask from his face.

 

“Time to start on you.”

 

Nevermore slumped, and the mirror held the Kanohi over their own face and began to change.

 

“Mirror, mirror, make thy call: which of them is next to fall?  Frightening as a silent blaze, left alone for all his days.  For how long will he scream, trapped here in a waking dream, this Matoran standing at my door?”

 

They slid the mask aside, showing Nevermore’s face clad in a terrible smile.

 

“Quoth the Rahi: ‘Nevermore’.”

 

Having set Underscore aside, Letagi rushed his foe.  He twisted around the dagger and snatched Nevermore’s Kanohi, and then spun and kicked the mirror, sending them rolling back down the hall.

 

Getting to their feet, the mirror said, “Oh.  I’m impressed.”

 

Letagi returned the mask to Nevermore and picked up the sword.  “Nev, you keep an eye on Underscore, I’ll…”

 

Turning, he realized that Underscore had run off.

 

“…Well, regardless, I’ll take the lead.”

 

Nevermore picked himself up.  “Seems I need to polish my skills a bit.”

 

The mirror walked forward.  Letagi swung, and they parried.  They tried getting in close, but Letagi drew the sword back and smacked the guard into their wrist.  Retreating, the mirror feinted with a stabbing motion and then swept their free arm in; Letagi compensated quickly and cut the shifter’s arm, then pressed his advantage and drove them back with a flurry of strikes.

 

“Now this won’t do,” the mirror said, their wound already healed.

 

Shifting to Letagi’s form, the mirror blocked the next swing and leaned forward.  Letagi found himself off-balance, and the mirror swept his feet out from under him and brought their elbow down in the center of his chest.  They readied their dagger to follow-up, but Nevermore was able to slip in and bash his fist into the shifter’s face, sending them reeling.  Letagi came to his feet and nodded to Nevermore.  Retrieving the sword, he advanced on the shifter, but found himself hesitating—costing him dearly when the dagger was thrust into his thigh.

 

“Predictable,” the mirror lamented.  “You’re rather good, but it’s just too strange fighting yourself, isn’t it?”

 

“Hey!”

 

The mirror turned.  Pahrak and Tomana were coming down the hall fast, each with his weapon drawn.  Bounding away from Letagi, the mirror transformed into Tomana and laughed as the four Matoran grouped together.

 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” Pahrak said.

 

“You’re trying to intimidate me with silly lines like that?”

 

“Well…yeah…that’s kind of all I’ve got, really, I’m not so good with coming up with one-liners on the fly.  That’s actually really difficult, it turns out.  Or, it could just be me…ah, who knows, that’s not really the point.”

 

Tomana stared at the mirror for a moment, but soon snapped out of it, put on his glove, and began patching Letagi’s wounds.  The mirror lunged, but Pahrak redirected their strike with the tip of his sword and rammed his shoulder into them, knocking them against the wall.  He slowly strafed while they got up.  Laughing, the mirror moved in low and then sprang up, forcing Pahrak to roll backwards.  They were able to stab his arm, and Pahrak returned the favor by grabbing their arm, swinging them around, and hurling them down the hallway into a concession stand.

 

Resting his sword on his shoulder, Pahrak said, “Looks like they…um…now, they’re all…”

 

He sighed.  “Yeah, I got nothing.”

 

The mirror vaulted over the counter and brushed popcorn off of themselves.  “I underestimated you.”

 

“I’ve gone a few rounds in some local tournaments, nothing huge,” Pahrak said, advancing.  “Wasn’t able to stick with it, though, I do have some commitment issues I still need to work out.”

 

He stopped a few steps away from the mirror.  They smiled at him, saying, “Is that so?  I think I’d like to know more.”

 

The mirror’s body twisted, swirled together into a sphere, and then unfolded again, ending up in Pahrak’s form.  Pahrak’s eyes widened.

 

“Mirror, mirror, make thy—“

 

Pahrak cut the mirror off with a punch to the gut.  As they doubled over in pain, he kneed them in the face, making them stumble back, and then swung his sword with such force that it flew from his hands after slicing through the shifter’s torso.  The mirror retaliated, their knife sinking into Pahrak’s shoulder, but he seemed not to notice—he simply grabbed them with both hands, raised them into the air, and smashed them headfirst into the floor.

 

Scrambling away, the mirror said, “I didn’t know you were one for cheap shots.”

 

Pahrak was upon them again, and the mirror was surprised by the intense rage filling his eyes.  They endured his vicious punch and stabbed him in the side, but he pushed the shifter down and punched again, and again, and again.  The mirror was eventually able to knock loose Pahrak’s Kanohi, giving them a chance to kick him in the ribs and take a few steps away.

 

“Well well, what an unexpected outburst.  But, when I have the face of the person you hate the most, you can’t help but become vicious, can you?”

 

Pahrak fixed his mask and grabbed his sword.  He made another attack, but this time the mirror ducked and swung their fist upward, the motion combining with Pahrak’s own momentum to flip him over the shifter and send him flying into the wall.  They moved to follow up, only to be thwarted by Letagi knocking the knife from their hand with the flat of his blade.  Tomana grazed them as they were retreating.

 

Picking up their knife, the mirror transformed into Letagi again, saying, “That’s enough fun here, then.”

 

They bolted down the corridor, becoming lost in the darkness before anyone could stop them.  Pahrak picked himself up with a heavy sigh.

 

“They must be going after Underscore,” Nevermore guessed.  “Now that they have Pahrak’s knowledge of the facility, his chances look quite slim.”

 

Tomana went over to Pahrak.  “Are you alright?”

 

The Po-Matoran smirked.  “Yeah, you know, just a few cuts here and there.  Don’t even worry about it, you should save your MP in case of emergencies.”

 

He took a step, but Tomana stopped him.  “Pahrak…we saw that.”

 

Pahrak frowned, looking oddly serious.  “I’m fine.”

 

Slipping away before another question could be asked, he opened another panel in the wall and withdrew yet another sword.  “Hey, Nev, you’ll be needing another one of these!”

 

Catching the weapon, Nevermore asked, “Just how many are hidden in this place?”

 

“…A few.”

 

Letagi shook his head.  “And now they know where each one is.”

 

“Which is why, I think, we should get a move on instead of stopping to comment on this rather unfortunate situation that, let’s be honest, it would be extremely difficult to see coming, right?  So, did you see which way Underscore went?”

 

***

 

Underscore peeked out of the dark hallway, his hands shaking.  Before him lay the facility’s arena chamber, completely empty and pitch-black save for a few spotlights dotting the wide floor.  The Matoran gulped.  He looked one way, then the other, then over his shoulder, and then across the arena to the exit on the opposite side.

 

That goes right to the lobby, and there’s no way they made it back there already.

 

He edged forward onto the arena floor.  He slowly wove his way through the blackness, trying to steer clear of the lights just in case the mirror was watching.  When he made it half-way across without hearing a single sound, he began to relax.

 

A figure appeared at his side.  He jumped and screamed, falling back into a spotlight and holding his hands up defensively.  The figure loomed over him, its form wavering and flickering…

 

A hologram.  It was just a hologram, like the dozens of others he had come to watch fight each other here.  Underscore leaned back and put a hand over his chest, trying to steady his breathing, and then started getting to his feet.

 

I guess one of the projectors is broken.

 

The hologram suddenly disappeared.  Next, all of the spotlights—except for the one over him—shut off all at once.  And when he heard a laugh echo over the intercom, his heart began to beat even faster than before.

 

“Hello, Underscore…and welcome to the Technic Coliseum!”

 

It was then that all the projectors seemed to turn on at once.  A sea of hazy images formed and unformed: Toa, Skakdi, Matoran, and a myriad of other beings, phantoms from countless worlds dancing around him, laughing, shouting, arguing in garbled voices.  Underscore spun around frantically, too scared to leave the perceived safety of the spotlight.

 

“Mirror, mirror, make thy call: which of them is next to fall?”

 

The spotlight shut off.  Now consumed by the void, unprotected from its specters, Underscore screamed and stumbled about chaotically.

 

“Fragile and overcome with fear, even before arriving here!  Overwhelmed by your disgust, laughing off all your mistrust.”

 

Underscore ran.  Managing to ignore the illusory warriors, he pushed past them as he continued his mad dash towards freedom.

 

“At arm’s length they must all stay…”

 

One of the illusions reached out and grabbed him.  The ambient light of the projections reflected off of the mirror’s armor, outlining them as they, in Underscore’s form, held their victim by the throat.

 

“But, at least you’ll have your way.”

 

Underscore flailed.  The mirror lifted him off the ground, saying, “This place actually uses a very simple interface.  What, did you think that recording was really me?  Why would I stay up in the booth when my prey was down here?”

 

The mirror stabbed him.

 

“I’d really like to take my time, but unfortunately I’ll have to be quick.  That should mean less agony for you, so there’s really no need to scream.”

 

They drew their knife up, slicing a long gash in Underscore’s side before finally withdrawing it.  Dropping him, they rolled him over with a kick, raised their knife, and plunged it.

 

Letagi burst from behind a hologram, tackling the mirror to the ground.

 

Nevermore grabbed Underscore by the shoulders, trying to steady him.  “It’s alright.  We’re here to help you.”

 

Letagi wrestled with the mirror a while before being thrown off.  The holograms faded away as the mirror stood up, though the projectors remained lit, casting a small bit of light on the field.

 

“Seems I wasted too much time,” they said.  “And it looks like Pahrak got up to the booth.  Is Tomana with him?”

 

Letagi moved in to attack when the mirror shifted to his form.  He hesitated, but that was when Nevermore jumped in and cut the mirror’s shoulder.  Wincing, the mirror turned and stabbed Nevermore, giving Letagi time to recover enough that he could slice through one of their legs.  The mirror fell to one knee and was kicked flat by Nevermore.  Taking on his form, they sprang up and wrapped their arm around his neck, positioning the captive in front of him to keep Letagi at bay.

 

“Haha, you see?” the mirror laughed.  “You Matoran—so weak, yet you can still manage to prove a challenge!  I wonder, how will you react to this?”

 

Letagi watched closely but could do nothing more.  Without warning, the lights in the arena came on, blinding him temporarily.  He recovered well before the Onu-Matoran—or the shapeshifter currently with the body of one—and so was able to leap forward and drive his blade through the chest of the mirror, forcing them to let go of their hostage.  They stumbled back and gasped a bit before liquefying their body, pulling away from the weapon, and reshaping as Tomana.

 

Letagi flicked the red from his sword.  “Give up.  You’re outnumbered.”

 

The mirror turned and looked up.  “Isn’t this a sight, Tomana?  Matoran brandishing weapons at you, terrified of the threat you pose and ready to strike you down because of it.”

 

Shifting to Pahrak, they said, “And how about you, Pahrak?”

 

The intercom flared with static, followed by some incoherent shouting.  Nevermore moved towards the mirror, who locked eyes and took on his form.

 

“You have no connections to anyone but yourself.  You drive them all away with your flat reactions, leaving them all confused and—“

 

Letagi interrupted them with a kick.  “Shut up.”

 

Nevermore looked to Letagi and, for just a moment, smiled.  The mirror also faced the Bo-Matoran, taking on his form and putting a hand to their chin.

 

“Oh, and then there’s you.”

 

Letagi raised his sword.  “Like you said, you can’t toy with me.”

 

The mirror shrugged.  Then they lashed out and stabbed Nevermore, sending the Onu-Matoran to his knees from the pain.

Letagi started forward.  “Nev!”  He stopped, not sure what would happen if he got too close.

 

The mirror held on and kept pushing; they smiled at Letagi, saying, “How about now?  This is what it looks like when you stab an old friend—an old friend who has not a single other friend in the world—and for what?”

 

“Stop it!”

 

“Letagi, the Mad Scientist.  It’ll make for a nice wanted poster, don’t you think?”

 

Letagi tried making a move.  The mirror let go of Nevermore and stuck their elbow into Letagi’s throat, stunning him before they slashed right beneath his heartlight.  The scientist stumbled, but he maintained his grip on his sword, glaring defiantly at the shifter.

 

They shrugged.  “Well boys, this hunt has gone on long enough.  It’s high time I slaughtered you all and moved on to find new prey.  Thanks for the laughs.”

 

The mirror moved to leap forward.  However, they found that something had clamped around their ankle, tripping them and nearly making them fall to the ground.  While trying to regain their balance, they saw Underscore, both hands clasped firmly around their leg, eyes filled with fear and hatred.

 

“You wretched—“

 

Taking advantage of the opening, Nevermore thrust his sword upward and through the mirror’s heartlight, making them gasp.  Their body jerked and their eyes went wide.

 

“…That…won’t be…enou—“

 

Letagi’s ran his sword through the mirror’s head.  They were still for a moment, and then the dagger fell from their hands and clattered on the floor.  The three Matoran each released their grip, and slowly the shapeshifter sank, ultimately laying sprawled out at their feet.

 

Nevermore and Letagi sighed in relief.  Underscore continued to stare at the corpse.

 

A few seconds later, Pahrak and Tomana came through the doorway and stopped short, the latter remarking, “You…you really did it!”

 

“Well, okay, that’s finally over,” Pahrak said.  “Next is clean-up, though…uh, what exactly are we supposed to do with the body?”

 

Underscore picked up the mirror’s knife and leaned over them.  After a moment, he began to stab the dead body, grunting with each thrust.  The others backed away.

 

“Underscore…they’re already dead,” Letagi said.

 

Underscore ignored him, continuing to assault the corpse in a blind fury.

 

***

 

Tomana entered the café and looked around, quickly spotting the table Letagi and Nevermore were sitting at.  He made his way over and took one of the open seats, saying, “Good morning.  Thanks for meeting me here.  How are the both of you?”

 

“Quite well, thank you,” Nevermore replied.

 

“That’s the whole reason you wanted to see us, right?” Letagi said.  “You seem like the kind to make frequent check-ups.”

 

“Well, it really hasn’t been that long—it’s important we figure out how to cope with this before more permanent damage starts to be done.  That shapeshifter rather enjoyed the psychological aspect of the whole thing.”

 

“I’m shaken, of course, but I can put it behind me,” Letagi said.  “Safe to say I know myself pretty well, so they weren’t able to make me doubt.”

 

“Some of what they said does bother me,” Nevermore said, “but I have elected to take action to change those things.  Letagi has been helping me to improve my interpersonal skills, and he’s also been helping me train.  If a time comes again when I have to fight, I’d like to be able to.”

 

Tomana smiled with relief.  “I’m glad to hear it.”

 

“What about you?” Letagi asked.  “It must’ve been difficult for you too.”

 

“Well, those fears are something I’ve learned to live with already,” Tomana said.

 

“If I may, I don’t think prejudices against Iron Matoran are quite as prominent as the shifter claimed,” Nevermore offered.

 

“You’re probably right.  Still, it’s difficult to shake the nagging thought in the back of my head…but I’m sure that’s something I’ll figure out in time.”

 

Nevermore nodded.  “Alright.  Have you talked to Pahrak?”

 

“I tried to.  He insists he’s alright, and that he has no time to say anything else on the subject because he’s far too busy verifying all the matches scheduled for the upcoming season and securing sponsors for the next tournament.  Subtlety does not seem to be a strength of his.”

 

Letagi chuckled.  “Eh, he’s a Po-Matoran.  He’ll keep himself busy, and maybe when he gets mad he’ll split a boulder and that’ll be the end of it.”

 

“I certainly hope that’s all.”

 

They stared at their drinks for a minute.

 

“…And Underscore?” Letagi finally asked.

 

Tomana shook his head.  “I’m…beginning to doubt that I can get through to him.”

 

***

 

Underscore quickly stepped inside his apartment, locking the door behind him and checking a few times before setting down his bag.  He slowly walked into the next room and flipped on the lights, turning to look around.  A mirror hung on the other side of the room.  He gazed at the reflection for a while before finally crossing the room, picking up a chair, and smashing it into the mirror’s surface.

 

Looking over the mountain of shards at his feet, Underscore laughed.

 

It stopped.

 

He dropped the chair and looked out the window.  Matoran filled the street below, each one a total unknown whose intentions he needed to be wary of.  He had never liked dealing with them.

 

But if you kill them…they stop.

 

Underscore took a step forward and winced.  The glass had cut his feet, leaving a few red-lined nicks along his armor.

 

I don’t want anything to do with them.  I just want them all to stop.

 

 

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[Voltex]

1 AI (AFTER ISOLATION)

 

---[TIRAGATH]---

 

He dug through the rubble, broken bits and pieces of rock crumbling apart in his hands as he scraped his fingers deeper and deeper into the pile. A cloud of dust drifted up into his face; he coughed, choking on the dry air.

 

There was a crackle in his ear.

 

“Status report.”

 

He coughed again. “N-nothing yet. Just rubble.”

 

“Impossible.”

 

“It’s been a year, sir. It shouldn’t exactly be a surprise.”

 

“Metru-Nui has not even been capable of forming anything resembling a proper hierarchy since the White Council fell. All of the reports tell me that the city has become a ghost town, every Metru fending for itself.”

 

“Well, it might not have been the citizens of the city, but someone cared enough to come by and clean all of this up,” the Po-Matoran muttered, turning and collapsing somewhat painfully onto the rubble.

 

“What was that?”

 

The Po-Matoran did not bother to inquire what exactly his boss had heard over their communication link. “Just sitting down for a breather. I’ve been digging through the Coliseum for a week now, sir. It’s a little exhausting.”

 

“Hmmph. You say it has been cleared out?”

 

“Yes. No bodies, no armor, no weapons… heck, not even any traces of those special Vahki that the White Council were so fond of. Half the Coliseum collapses, but I’m pretty sure most of what did fall is missing. Somebody got here first, sir.”

 

“Impossible. I have multiple agents stationed all across the universe. Everyone has been too terrified to make any sort of moves.”

 

“And I’m telling you that somebody wasn’t,” the Po-Matoran snapped. “Someone faster than the Dark Hunters – someone cunning.”

 

“Troubling… your point is noted. Report back now – we are abandoning the recovery. If your suspicions are correct, then we must prepare ourselves to wage war against this new enemy.”

 

The Po-Matoran opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted as the rubble shifted again. He fell backwards as the piece he was seated on collapsed underneath him. He coughed, reaching out blindly to stop his fall. Everything stopped and the Matoran remained frozen in place, limbs shaking.

 

“Agent?”

 

“One moment,” he whispered, slowly twisting his head to look around.

 

A glimmer in the darkness further below – faint. It disappeared into the shadows before popping back into view for a split second. The Po-Matoran gradually released his hold; the rubble remained still around him as he slowly twisted to stare at the source of the light.

 

“Agent, what is happening?”

 

“I… I found something,” he said quietly, astonished.

 

“What did you find?”

 

He reached out with a trembling arm, his hand closing around the source of the light. He held it up to his mask, staring at the small yellow light in his palm with disbelief.

 

“A heartlight,” he replied. “Still pulsing. It’s… it’s weak, but… whoever this is… they’re still alive. Somehow….”

 

“…bring it with you, agent. Report back to headquarters immediately.”

 

“Of course, Shadowed One,” the Po-Matoran said, pocketing the heartlight. “I’ll be there soon.”

 

“I look forward to it.”

 

END.

 

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