“Bah. Another Pakari.”
The four-armed being threw the blue mask across the beach he stood on, letting it land somewhere in the sand. He cast a look of distaste at the dead Toa of Water laying at his feet, as if it was the corpse’s fault for not wearing a better mask.
“Seriously, what is the obsession with Pakaris? I’ve already got, like, at least three of each color. Earth types especially seem to like them. I swear I’ve seen at least two Onu-Matoran and even one Ba-Matoran wearing a purple Pakari.”
“You’re one to talk about obsessions, Collector,” said the other Dark Hunter standing beside him. Triglax pointed at the twin bandoliers made of Kanohi masks that wrapped around Collector’s spiked spines and crossed in an x-shape over his chest. “Seriously, how long did it take you to get all of those?”
“None of your business,” Collector snapped. He stepped over the Toa of Water’s body and trudged on ahead through the beach full of dead Toa. He stopped by the body of a Toa of Stone and bent down to look at it only to quickly straighten back up and resume his journey.
“Another Hau,” he muttered to himself. “Of course.”
Triglax sighed as he shook his head, walking after the four-armed Dark Hunter. Despite having known Collector for a long time, he had never quite gotten his partner’s obsession with Kanohi masks. As far as he knew, Collector’s species weren’t even capable of wearing masks, let alone using their powers. Yet he always carried his collection around with him everywhere he went; he wouldn’t even let Dark Hunters who were capable of using Kanohi take one from his bandolier if they were in the middle of a battle. It had earned him more than a couple of reprimands from the Shadowed One, especially when such refusals had cost the Dark Hunters valuable prizes. Those had done nothing to deter Collector from adding to his collection though, or at the very least digging through a grave of Toa in search of masks he didn’t yet own.
It was honestly quite disturbing, even for a Dark Hunter.
In fact, Triglax still didn’t have any idea why there even were this many dead Toa; from the looks of it, they had already been dead long before he and Collector had arrived at this remote island. All he knew was that there was a unique device of Xian design that the Shadowed One wanted his hands on hidden somewhere on this island. The leader of the Dark Hunters had said nothing about any Toa, alive or dead. Triglax wondered if the Shadowed One had even been aware of such Toa; it was strange that there even were this many on a remote, seemingly uninhabited island like this one.
The two Dark Hunters continued to walk along the beach until they came across a cave, where two more dead Toa laid at its entrance. After a brief exchange of glances, Triglax and Collector ventured into the cave, digging out lightstones from their satchels to illuminate their path. As they navigated their way through a maze of razor-sharp stalactites and stalagmites, Triglax started to pick up on what sounded suspiciously like someone sobbing. No sooner had he noticed this that he and Collector spotted the distinct shape of a Matoran up ahead in the distance, hunched over as they cradled their head in their hands.
Oh good grief, Triglax thought, rolling his eyes at the pathetic display. It’s gonna be one of those types of missions.
While he had no love for Matoran, Triglax had come to find himself feeling… exasperated with having to kill or injure Matoran that got in the way of missions. It was one thing if they were actively trying to get in the way of things, in which case he had no problem with ridding himself of them. But when they were innocent bystanders, he couldn’t help but take pity on them. He wasn’t sure why he had come to feel this way, and he didn’t dare bring it up to the Shadowed One or any of the other Dark Hunters lest they find him weak and eliminate him accordingly. Just for once, he wished to have a mission that didn’t involve any Matoran whatsoever, unless they were mutant Matoran that could be recruited into the Dark Hunters’ ranks.
As he and Collector closed in on the Matoran, Triglax realized they were an Onu-Matoran wearing a black Pakari. He wasn’t sure if Collector took masks from Matoran as well as Toa, but he was at least confident that Collector wouldn’t be bothering with this one, seeing as how they wore a mask that Collector had just complained about having too many of.
Upon noticing the arrival of the two Dark Hunters, the Matoran looked up at them with wide green eyes, holding up his hands defensively. “Please! Don’t hurt me!”
Triglax sighed. “Relax. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re just looking for something.”
He was thankful that he had chosen a form that closely resembled a gray-armored warrior, as the Onu-Matoran seemed to relax as he looked Triglax up and down. “Are you… are you a Toa?” he asked.
“Er, yeah. Sure. Of course. My name is Toa Triglax.” He gestured at Collector, who was a lot more fearsome in appearance and definitely could not pass off as a Toa. “This is my friend Four-Arms. Don’t worry, he won’t bite.”
The Matoran eyed the four-armed Dark Hunter carefully. “Why is he wearing all those masks?”
“Oh, those are mine,” Triglax said, which caused Collector to noticeably twitch. “My Suva got destroyed, so I have to have someone carry around my masks for me. But Four-Arms here doesn’t mind. Right, Four-Arms?”
Collector responded with a hand gesture that was considered very rude on Stelt. Triglax ignored him.
“Anyways,” he said to the Matoran, “any idea what happened here? I saw all of those dead Toa outside and was wondering what had happened.”
“Oh, Great Spirit, it was awful,” the Matoran moaned, covering his face with his hands again. “I was accompanying these Toa on their adventures — I was supposed to be their Chronicler — when they came across this weapon invented by the Xians. One of them, a Toa of Fire, I don’t know, he just snapped and started killing the others. He left me stranded here and I have no idea where he is now.”
Triglax exchanged a look with Collector. “A Xian weapon, you say. Care to give us a description of this Toa? Maybe we can find him.”
“He wears red and gold armor,” said the Matoran. “Lots of armor, at that. He was probably the most heavily armored member of the team.”
“What kind of mask does he wear?” Collector asked. Triglax refrained from rolling his eyes; of course that would be the first thing on his partner’s mind.
“I believe it’s called a Kanohi Olmak,” the Matoran replied. “It’s not a mask I’m very familiar with. I believe it might be one of a kind.”
Triglax glanced at Collector, watching as the four-armed being’s blue eyes widened in shock. Doing his best to not show his exasperation, Triglax turned back to the Matoran and put on a fake smile.
“Thank you, villager. We will do our best to track down this Toa and bring him to justice. Do you need help returning to your fellow Matoran?”
“Actually, I think it might be best I stay here for now,” the Matoran said. “Just to be safe, you know; in case things go wrong or something.”
“Wise choice.” Triglax turned to leave, giving Collector a quick tap on the shoulder. “Come along, Four-Arms. Adventure awaits.”
It took the other Dark Hunter more than a couple of minutes to snap out of his reverie and follow Triglax out of the cave.
There was an old saying that Triglax had heard some time ago; something that went along the lines of “Where there’s smoke, there’s a Toa of Fire.”
Regardless of whether or not that was a paraphrase, he deemed it to be appropriate enough for the present moment. A column of smoke was rising in the distance, coming from a small village that laid several kios ahead. The two Dark Hunters picked up their pace as they headed in the direction of the smoke. Triglax was half-tempted to take a Mask of Speed from Collector’s bandolier but thought better of it, instead shifting into the form of an Energy Hound to allow himself to cover greater distances in a shorter amount of time.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the village, Triglax was greeted with the sight of several dead Matoran strewn all about, their bodies stained with scorch marks. Also scattered around the village were burnt suits of armor colored in tan and blue, though Triglax could not make out what they were. All that remained of the Matoran’s homes were burning husks of wood and stone. It was as if the entire settlement had been consumed by an uncontrollable inferno… which, given what they were dealing with, probably was the case.
As Collector finally caught up with him, Triglax slowly stalked his way through the macabre scene, scanning for any sign of their Toa quarry. The air was choked with the smell of smoke, which only grew worse as Triglax moved deeper into the villager.
It was at the center of the village that he finally found what he sought.
Clad in the red and gold armor that the Matoran had described, the Toa of Fire sat upon a large piece of debris, hunched over as he cradled his head in his hands. Triglax had never seen a Kanohi Olmak before, so he could only assume that the wide golden mask with sharp edges adorning his face was the mask in question. He was sure Collector would be able to tell, but he wasn’t in the mood of asking him.
The Toa had yet to notice him, giving Triglax the chance to morph back into his “fake Toa” form before they looked up. The Toa of Fire continued to look down even as Triglax approached him and cleared his throat to make his presence known.
“Excuse me,” the Dark Hunter said.
The Toa of Fire slowly lifted his head out of his hands, peering at the gray “Toa” through the narrow slits of his mask. His green eyes had a hollow and haunted look to them, as if he had just been forced to live through his worst nightmare… and was perhaps still living it.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice coming out in a croak.
“My name is not important,” Triglax replied. “What is important is the crime that I hear you have committed.”
The Toa released a harsh cough from his lungs. “What are you… talking about?”
“I think you know.” Triglax gestured to the grave of Matoran surrounding them. “When I arrived on this island, I wasn’t expecting to find so many dead Matoran… not to mention those dead Toa on the beach.”
“That… wasn’t me,” the Toa coughed again. “I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve been set up. Framed.”
“A likely story. One I would love to believe.” Triglax tapped his face, which he had morphed to look like a mask. “But my Mask of Mind Reading tells me otherwise. Admit the truth, brother, or face the consequences.”
The Toa of Fire narrowed his eyes. “This is another trick, isn’t it? Another illusion. I’m not falling for it. Not this time.”
“There’s no need for a confrontation, brother. I’m sure this can be settled—”
“You’re no brother of mine.”
The Toa’s mask glowed and the ground opened up beneath Triglax’s feet. Before the Dark Hunter knew it, he was falling through the portal and plummeting towards his certain (and messy) demise….
Collector watched as Triglax got sucked into the ground. He could barely bring himself to care as his eyes were still focused on the mask adorning the Toa of Fire’s face.
As the portal closed, the Toa slumped back down onto the debris he was sitting on before lifting his gaze towards Collector. His eyes roved over the Dark Hunter’s body, no doubt noticing the chains of masks that were wrapped around it.
“Nice collection,” the Toa muttered. “How many did you kill to get all of those?”
“Not enough,” Collector growled. “I’m still missing some powers and a lot of colors. Your dead friends on the beach didn’t have anything good.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the Toa said bitterly. “Maybe I can drop you into an alternate universe where you can have all the masks and colors you want.”
“No thanks. That would be a cheap cop-out. I’d rather finish my collection in this universe before starting one in another. Besides, I would have to compete with my other self in that universe.”
“Fair enough. Of course, you can’t complete your collection without the mask I’m wearing, can you?”
Collector shook his head. “Is it one of a kind?”
“One of two, actually. It was generously gifted to me long ago, in a time I barely remember anymore.”
The Toa looked down at his hand. He snapped two fingers together and a tiny flame burst out from one of them. It flickered for a second before going out entirely, leaving behind a wisp of smoke.
“I helped save the universe with this mask, you know,” he continued. “Have you ever heard of the Toa Valmai?”
Again, Collector shook his head.
“I’ll grant you, it was a long time ago. The Great Spirit was sick and the universe was dying. There was a place — the World that feeds the World, they called it — that we could only get to through my mask. The people who gave us our mission were pretty vague about the whole thing. I’m not sure even Jovan understood what was going on half the time.”
The Toa paused to look at Collector.
“You don’t care, do you?”
“Not really.” The Dark Hunter drew swords in each of his four hands. “I’m just here for your mask.”
The Toa sighed. “Of course you are. Do you really have to kill me, though?”
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like you’re just going to give it to me.”
“Maybe I will. You haven’t asked for it yet.”
This gave Collector pause, though he quickly shook himself out of it. “Nah. You’re just trying to stall.”
The Toa shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
His mask glowed again and Collector stepped right into the portal that materialized beneath his feet. After he fell through and the portal closed, the Toa let out a sigh which quickly turned into another coughing fit.
“They never learn….”
Not for the first time in his life, Triglax thanked the Great Beings for giving him shape-shifting powers. After realizing that the Toa had teleported him into the sky, he had quickly changed shape into a Gukko bird and flapped his wings to make his descent through the air a slow and steady one. He then darted back down towards the island, setting his sights on the charred village.
As he drew closer, he saw that Collector was still standing in front of the Toa, all four of his blades drawn. Triglax was about to wonder why his fellow Dark Hunter hadn’t received the same treatment as he had when the Toa created a new portal and Collector stupidly stepped into it. No doubt he had been too focused on the Toa’s mask to even think about avoiding that trick.
Just as he had predicted before even starting this mission, it was up to Triglax to finish the job.
Folding his wings back, Triglax dove towards the Toa nose-first. The Toa of Fire looked up just as the shape-shifted Gukko collided into him, knocking his mask off and sending him falling to the ground. Triglax then shifted into a large, one-eyed beast as he grabbed the Toa and pinned him to the ground.
“No more games, Toa,” Triglax snarled. “Hand over the weapon.”
“Weapon?” The Toa coughed, sounding even more weak now that he had been deprived of his Kanohi. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t toy with me! The Xian weapon you used to kill those other Toa.”
“I… I already told you: That wasn’t me. I was framed. He… he was the one who used the weapon—”
“I don’t care who used it!” Triglax snapped, pushing the Toa deeper into the ground. “Just tell me where it is and then I’ll be done with you!”
The Toa opened his mouth but it was only to gasp for air. Growling in frustration, Triglax lifted himself off of the Toa before throwing his fist down into the red and gold warrior. There was a sickening crunch and the Toa did not move or speak again.
After taking a moment to compose himself, Triglax turned to look for the mask the Toa had been wearing. If he failed to find the Xian weapon, then perhaps the Shadowed One would accept a rare Kanohi as compensation. It would at least be better than returning to Odina empty handed.
However, when he looked, the Kanohi Olmak was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the force of his collision with the Toa had been enough to send it flying into the grave of dead Matoran that laid nearby. Since he was in no mood to dig through a bunch of corpses for a stupid mask, he decided to forget the matter entirely and instead focus on what he had came here for.
If Collector ever returned from whatever dimension the Toa had sent him to, he was more than welcome to have it.
When Triglax returned to the cave that he and Collector had found the Onu-Matoran in, the Xian weapon that the Toa of Fire had allegedly possessed was already waiting for him at the mouth of the cave. The Dark Hunter was no doubt befuddled by this, given everything he had been told and had just went through, but did not voice any of the dozen questions he was surely asking himself. Without a word, he took the weapon and made a swift departure from the island, leaving its mysteries far behind.
Once Triglax was gone, the Onu-Matoran within the cave emerged from his hiding spot and morphed into his true form before taking to the sky, making his way towards the desolate village. Upon his arrival, he was greeted with the sight of the many dead Matoran that Toa Sidrona had killed in his madness. From the Toa’s perspective, the Matoran had been nightmarish creatures that he was forced to kill with an all-consuming inferno that had exhausted most of his elemental energy, leaving him vulnerable to his Dark Hunter attackers. It was only after the massacre that the illusion had worn off and Toa Sidrona realized what he had done.
The power of illusion was a great thing. Especially when one had a few Rahkshi of Illusion scattered around the village to help maintain that illusion.
Walking past the burnt tan and blue husks that had once been those Rahkshi, he arrived at the resting place of Toa Sidrona himself. The Toa of Fire had been practically embedded into the ground and his mask torn from his face. However, after spending a good couple of hours scouring the burnt village, the Kanohi Olmak itself was nowhere to be found.
Makuta Tridax frowned. He had been watching the Dark Hunter Triglax closely enough when he had taken the Xian weapon to know that the mask had not been in his possession. His mask-collecting partner was also nowhere to be seen, leaving Tridax to assume that the four-armed Hunter was either dead or had been dealt with by Sidrona. Additionally, Tridax was pretty certain that Collector’s species was incapable of using mask powers, meaning that he couldn’t have used the Olmak to teleport himself away.
The Makuta of Nynrah cursed to himself. He had been pleased with himself for arranging all of this; he had lured Toa Sidrona and his team to this island, using the Xian weapon to kill most of Sidrona’s teammates. The Toa of Fire had then used his mask to travel to the local settlement and warn the villagers there of what had happened. Not wanting word of his actions to spread, Tridax had sent his Rahkshi of Illusion to keep Sidrona and the Matoran “busy” before summoning the Dark Hunters here to finish the job, all while keeping his direct involvement a secret. While he had succeeded in covering his tracks, he had ultimately failed to retrieve the very item that had been the reasoning behind everything he had done since setting foot on this accursed island.
Filled with anger and shame, Makuta Tridax spread his wings and took for the sky, leaving his failures far behind.
Epilogue
Daxia
“I always did think we should have taken this mask back after he and his team had fulfilled their destiny,” said Toa Helryx as the Kanohi Olmak once worn by Toa Sidrona was locked away in a vault deep within the Daxia Fortress. “To be honest, I’m surprised it took this long for a Toa of Fire like him to lose control.”
“Indeed,” said Botar, the agent who had delivered the mask to her. “However, I have the suspicion that someone else was behind him ‘losing control,’ perhaps for the purpose of acquiring his mask.”
“In any case, it is for the best that we keep it here for safe keeping,” Helryx said. “Mata Nui knows what a being with ill-intentions would be capable of doing with a mask such as this one.”
“Let us pray that we never find out.”
Another place and time entirely
Collector breathed heavily as he rummaged through the pool of Kanohi masks. He dug deep into the infinite pile and grabbed onto a mask, feeling it with his fingers. Its sharp edges did not call any familiar shapes to mind and he eagerly pulled it out to see what kind of mask it was.
It was another Pakari. A white one this time.
He tossed the mask aside and dug again. He grabbed a mask that felt very round and smooth. Perhaps it was a Hau, or even a Rau. He already had plenty of those, but he was also missing a few colors.
He drew out his arm and saw that it was an orange Pakari.
He dug some more and pulled out more Pakaris. A purple one, a red one, another purple one, a brown one. Every single mask he pulled out was a Pakari.
In fact, he only just now realized that all of the masks in the infinite sea of Kanohi he had found himself in… were Pakaris.
Every. Last. One.
No one was around to hear the Dark Hunter as he released his rage in one loud, deafening scream.
